Christmas in the Rink Read Online Free PDF Page B

driving him to the brink of disaster. Like wanting to crush her to his chest and kiss her silly.
    She stood, but he was reluctant to move off the bench for fear his legs would give out on him.
    “Maybe next week, then.”
    What? Oh, church. “Yeah. That might work better.” Give him time to work up his courage. And to ask for the day off.
    She started to walk away, but then turned back, her head tilted to the side, doubt and hope warring across her face. “Annabelle and I are going shopping for a Christmas tree later this afternoon. Would you like to join us?”
    So she wanted to spend more time with him, even after he told her the truth about his job? A smile tugged at his lips, and his heart felt lighter than it had in years. “Yeah. That sounds great.”
    Suddenly, Christmas didn’t seem so bad.
     
     
     
     

5
     
    Conner spooned the last bite of chili into his mouth, savoring the spicy, meaty goodness before swallowing. “Mmmm. That was delicious. Thank you.” The spoon clanked inside the empty ceramic bowl. He couldn’t help that Mrs. Mitchum had insisted on refilling his bowl two more times, could he?
    “You don’t have to pretend you like it, Conner,” Carole teased, and then sipped her diet cola.
    He’d anticipated Chaney’s mother to greet him with coolness or even indifference, but she hadn’t been either. Instead, she’d pulled him into a bear hug the moment he stepped through the front door, her cheeks brimming with tears.
    Grace. Forgiveness. So not what he’d expected after he’d stomped on her baby girl’s dreams.
    “When we goin’ to decrate the tree, An Chaney?” Annabelle, who’d been incredibly patient during dinner, piped up, and then crammed an oversized spoon of macaroni and cheese into her mouth, puffing out her tiny cheeks.
    He hid his grin behind a hand. Dressed in a cherry red, striped long-sleeved shirt and cute little pants—did they call those things leggings?—with giant hearts sewn at the knees, Annabelle had stolen his heart right along with her aunt. She’d been adorable at the tree farm, shouting, “This one! This one!” until she scrambled to the next giant fir and repeated the process, her green eyes, so much like Chaney’s, aglow with excitement.
    “As soon as you finish your dinner.” Chaney smiled, love evident in the patient look she gave her niece.
    Annabelle chewed faster and shoved more gooey pasta into her mouth.
    His brows crinkled, and this time he couldn’t contain his laughter.
    “Done!” Annabelle’s fork plunked down on the table, and she scrambled to get down from her booster seat.
    But Chaney was too quick and scooped the little one up in her arms. “How about we wash our hands and face first.”
    When Annabelle’s pained look flashed towards him, he stood, collected some of the soiled dishes and stepped over to the sink next to them. “Let’s wash up, then.”
    “You guys don’t worry about the dishes. I’ll take care of them and join you in a jif,” Mrs. Mitchum said.
    “What’s a jif?” Annabelle asked, wrinkling her face as Chaney scrubbed it. At least, she’d lost that worried expression.
    “It means shortly, like in a few minutes,” Chaney explained.
    Conner ignored Mrs. Mitchum’s soft snuffle of refusal and made another trip to the sink, dirty dishes stacked in his hands.
    Chaney swung the little miss down from the counter, and glanced at her mother. “All right, Mom. If you’re sure?”
    Mrs. Mitchum waved her palm in the air, gesturing towards the family room. “Scoot. It’ll take me less time with an empty kitchen.” She turned the faucet and squirted some soap in the sink.
    “I believe she’s kicking us out.” Chaney grinned at him.
    Annabelle’s hand wrapped tight around Chaney’s, and the little one tugged her into the family room.
    Conner stopped in front of the giant fir, planting his fists on his hips and studying it. “What should we do first, Annabelle?” Conner asked.
    “Mmmm…” Clearly