Jillian Hart by Sara's Gift (A Christmas Novella) Read Free Book Online
Authors: Sara's Gift (A Christmas Novella)
and easily, and she caught herself smiling back. "I'm likely to be the one falling and knocking Mary over."
The girl giggled, her face pink with delight.
"Goodness. Would you look at that?" Connie's airy wonder snared Sara's attention and she swung around.
She heard Gabe's "Whoa," the rustling of paper and packages, and the thud of something hitting the ground hard enough to rattle teeth. Then she saw the packages tumble into the snow.
"Gabe!" She rushed to his side, dropping to her knees. The ice was so hard, it would be no trick at all to break a bone. "Are you all right? Can you move your legs?"
"I'm fine, Sara. Just a little humiliated—that's all." He was a big man standing up, but spread out on the ground, his size and strength seemed more noticeable. Maybe it was because he was dressed in black, a stark contrast to the sugary-white snow. Or maybe it was because she saw the man he was, powerful and substantial, not just the father of her daughter.
"My pride's a bit bruised." He rubbed his elbow as he sat up.
"Here's your hat, Pa." Mary skipped close, offering the now battered Stetson. "It flew off your head when you hit."
"Thanks, smarty-pants." Shaking his head, scattering thick tantalizing dark locks over his brow, he tried to bend the hat's brim back into shape.
"You should have been watching where you were going, Pa," Mary reminded him with a giggle.
"Watch out, or I'm going to have a talk with Santa." With a rueful wink, he set the hat back on his head. Ice clung to him, along every inch that had contacted the ground.
"Pa, you look like a snowman from behind." Mary's helpful comments just didn't stop.
"That's it. You're getting only coal for Christmas." Tossing a sheepish grin Sara's way, he tried to brush off some of the more embarrassing snow chunks.
Sara felt the tickle deep in her chest and tried to stop it, but up it bubbled, growing stronger as it went. She erupted into giggles.
"A proper lady wouldn't find humor in a man's misfortune," Gabe reminded her, though he didn't scold, didn't find fault. No, his words came like a touch, tender and binding.
"You weren't misfortunate, Pa." Mary joined in retrieving the fallen packages. "You were walkin' too fast, and you didn't look where you were goin'. That's what you always tell me."
"Guilty as charged." Gabe did not see the need to mention he'd been watching Sara, noticing the swish of her dark skirts against her slim ankles, the fine set of her slender shoulders, the easy grace of her smile when she looked down at his daughter. Fine way to act now that he was in a pretty lady's company. "I'm gonna have to tell Santa all about this little incident here."
"More coal." Connie reached, but Sara grabbed the last package, straightening up carefully as her feet began to slip. "Gabe, would you mind telling me what in blazes all those men are doing standing around on my porch?"
"What men?" Over the stack of the packages, Sara stepped away from him, taking with her the scent of sweet apples and even sweeter woman.
"I should have guessed it." He took a step, readjusting his gun belt, which had twisted during the fall. "Looks like word has gotten out about Sara."
"What about me?" The rose-soft color pinkening her cheeks drained away.
"That you're stranded here." Gabe didn't mind stepping close to her to take the packages she carried. Her scent, innocent and enticing, tickled his nose, made his heart skip a beat. "Those vultures think one of them just might be lucky enough to take you out to supper."
"What?" She froze, stiff as an icicle. "Gabe, I don't think I could—" She paused, her gloved hand covering her mouth.
He could see the prospect of facing so many eager gentle-men, all sporting their Sunday best even in this frigid weather, daunted her. He liked that Sara Mercer was shy and unpretentious. "I'll handle it."
"Thank you." Her gratitude shone like sunlight through clouds, unveiled and genuine.
He tipped his hat to her, his chest tight, his
The girl giggled, her face pink with delight.
"Goodness. Would you look at that?" Connie's airy wonder snared Sara's attention and she swung around.
She heard Gabe's "Whoa," the rustling of paper and packages, and the thud of something hitting the ground hard enough to rattle teeth. Then she saw the packages tumble into the snow.
"Gabe!" She rushed to his side, dropping to her knees. The ice was so hard, it would be no trick at all to break a bone. "Are you all right? Can you move your legs?"
"I'm fine, Sara. Just a little humiliated—that's all." He was a big man standing up, but spread out on the ground, his size and strength seemed more noticeable. Maybe it was because he was dressed in black, a stark contrast to the sugary-white snow. Or maybe it was because she saw the man he was, powerful and substantial, not just the father of her daughter.
"My pride's a bit bruised." He rubbed his elbow as he sat up.
"Here's your hat, Pa." Mary skipped close, offering the now battered Stetson. "It flew off your head when you hit."
"Thanks, smarty-pants." Shaking his head, scattering thick tantalizing dark locks over his brow, he tried to bend the hat's brim back into shape.
"You should have been watching where you were going, Pa," Mary reminded him with a giggle.
"Watch out, or I'm going to have a talk with Santa." With a rueful wink, he set the hat back on his head. Ice clung to him, along every inch that had contacted the ground.
"Pa, you look like a snowman from behind." Mary's helpful comments just didn't stop.
"That's it. You're getting only coal for Christmas." Tossing a sheepish grin Sara's way, he tried to brush off some of the more embarrassing snow chunks.
Sara felt the tickle deep in her chest and tried to stop it, but up it bubbled, growing stronger as it went. She erupted into giggles.
"A proper lady wouldn't find humor in a man's misfortune," Gabe reminded her, though he didn't scold, didn't find fault. No, his words came like a touch, tender and binding.
"You weren't misfortunate, Pa." Mary joined in retrieving the fallen packages. "You were walkin' too fast, and you didn't look where you were goin'. That's what you always tell me."
"Guilty as charged." Gabe did not see the need to mention he'd been watching Sara, noticing the swish of her dark skirts against her slim ankles, the fine set of her slender shoulders, the easy grace of her smile when she looked down at his daughter. Fine way to act now that he was in a pretty lady's company. "I'm gonna have to tell Santa all about this little incident here."
"More coal." Connie reached, but Sara grabbed the last package, straightening up carefully as her feet began to slip. "Gabe, would you mind telling me what in blazes all those men are doing standing around on my porch?"
"What men?" Over the stack of the packages, Sara stepped away from him, taking with her the scent of sweet apples and even sweeter woman.
"I should have guessed it." He took a step, readjusting his gun belt, which had twisted during the fall. "Looks like word has gotten out about Sara."
"What about me?" The rose-soft color pinkening her cheeks drained away.
"That you're stranded here." Gabe didn't mind stepping close to her to take the packages she carried. Her scent, innocent and enticing, tickled his nose, made his heart skip a beat. "Those vultures think one of them just might be lucky enough to take you out to supper."
"What?" She froze, stiff as an icicle. "Gabe, I don't think I could—" She paused, her gloved hand covering her mouth.
He could see the prospect of facing so many eager gentle-men, all sporting their Sunday best even in this frigid weather, daunted her. He liked that Sara Mercer was shy and unpretentious. "I'll handle it."
"Thank you." Her gratitude shone like sunlight through clouds, unveiled and genuine.
He tipped his hat to her, his chest tight, his
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