My Kind of Christmas Read Online Free PDF Page B

of coffee. Then we’ll reassess things. However, I have to warn you, I kind of like that you find me irresistible.”
    “Did I say that?” he asked, a slight tint creeping up his stubbled cheeks. “I didn’t say that! I find you completely resistible.”
    “Touchy, huh? Maybe you should have something a little stronger than coffee.”
    He gave her a slow look, a full appraisal that made her warm, a feeling she couldn’t remember having before, and she liked it. She was growing more bold by the minute. Then with his eyes narrowed he said, “All right, we’ll have a cup of coffee. You’ll talk. Then I’ll head home and you’ll stop looking for trouble.”
    She stared at him levelly. “Do women actually find you scary?” she asked.
    * * *
    Patrick couldn’t remember ever treating a woman like that, rudely looking her over, trying to make her uncomfortable to scare her off, running roguish eyes up and down the length of her. Especially a sweet young thing like Angie. In fact, he had always been the complete opposite, a gentleman to the core. Present circumstances had put a rough edge on him. Plus, his instincts told him it would be practical if not wise if she just didn’t get too close. He was a wreck without much to offer. The only woman who had his attention right now was his best friend’s widow, that’s how sad his life had become.
    But Angie wasn’t easily discouraged. With a cup of coffee in front of him he said, “No young woman should come on to a man she doesn’t know, especially after being warned away from him by her protectors. That sort of thing could get you hurt.”
    “Oh, stop,” she said. She took a sip of her coffee. “Jack and Preacher and Mike said they know you a little bit and are friends with your brothers. They all said you were troubled by something but no one ever suggested you were dangerous—I made that up to flatter you. So guess what? I might be troubled, too. You might think I’m a little nuts, but the truth is I wouldn’t mind having a friend who also has some things to sort out.”
    He just stared at her. “And what might be troubling you, miss? Dropping out of some cushy college program?”
    “Exactly right,” she answered. “But not because I was bored or disillusioned. I was in an accident and had to take leave. It was a medical leave.”
    He was startled and it showed in his eyes. He might’ve overheard something about a hospital at the bar, but the details were vague right now. “What kind of accident?”
    “The kind that means having rods and pins put in you and lands you in physical therapy for a few months.”
    An image of Patrick’s brother, Colin, lying unconscious in a hospital bed, barely alive after a Black Hawk crash, came to his mind. He shuddered involuntarily. “What happened?”
    “Well, I had to learn to walk, of course, but—”
    “No, what kind of accident?” he asked, genuinely interested.
    “Oh—a car accident. Three cars, actually. And what happened is still being disputed—the driver at fault was killed. She lost control of her car, jumped the median on the freeway and hit two oncoming cars, the one I was in and another. There was a witness who said she was cut off by a speeding car that didn’t stop. It was raining and the roads were slick. Another witness said there was no speeding car and that it looked like her car suddenly hydroplaned, like she lost control because of a flat or broken axel or something. Someone suggested she might’ve fallen asleep, but it wasn’t like she’d just come off a twelve-hour shift or anything—she was on her way out to meet a date for dinner and hadn’t driven far. I don’t remember much. I remember lights, sirens, my girlfriend crying—she had a broken ankle, a couple of broken ribs and a really badly shattered wrist, plus lots of bad bruises and cuts. They had to pry both of us out of the car. She remembers that—the sawing and crunching of metal—but I don’t.”
    He was quiet for a