Travis Carson did not know what he would do without his
next-door neighbor, Holly Baxter. And frankly, he did not
ever want to find out. The divorced single mom was always on
hand to help him out with his two young daughters. And he
did the same for Holly and her twin boys. Their kids
attended the same Fort Worth, Texas, preschool. Weekdays,
they shared a nanny. Weekends, depending on their individual
schedules, a little more.
But most of all, they were friends. And right now he needed
a friend with a mother's heartβand accompanying wisdom.
"So what's the problem?" Holly dodged a
Christmas piΓ±ata and slipped into the booth of the popular
Tex-Mex restaurant. She shrugged out of her trendy red wool
coat and gloves, then leaned across the table to be heard
above the festive strains of "Feliz Navidad,"
playing in the background. "I assume it has something to
do with the kids?"
Travis nodded. He reached into the pocket of the black down
vest he wore to ward off the chill at the construction site,
and handed over an envelope addressed to the North Pole.
"Read it and weep. I did."
Clearly debating whether to take the situation seriously or
not, Holly wrinkled her nose, and worked open the seal.
Across the aisle, a tableful of guys in suits were staring
admiringly her way. Travis couldn't blame them. At
thirty-three, Holly seemed to get more beautiful by the day.
Her long golden-brown hair was silky, soft and incredibly
glossy. Her skin held the warm glow that came from living in
a sunny climate, her five-foot-six frame the sleek, sexy
look of a woman who worked out regularly. There was a lot to
admire about her lovely girl-next-door features, but it was
the genuine trustworthiness radiating from her wide-set
aquamarine eyes that really drew him in. It wasn't just
that they were friendsβHolly seemed accessible to him in a
way no other woman ever had. Which was what made all that
ogling from that group of guys all the more annoying. Travis
turned and gave them a look.
They got the hint and turned away.
Meanwhile, Holly was transfixed by at the letter she had
unfolded. With a curious lift of her elegant brow, she read
out loud the words that had haunted him since breakfast.
"Dear Santa,
"We have been very good this year so please bring us the
only thing we want this yearβa mommy. "Hugs and kisses,
Sophie and Mia."
The bottom and margins of the page were decorated with
childish scrawls, stickers and lots of
X's and
O's.
Holly set the letter down. "Wow." She rummaged in
the canvas carryall that served as her handbag.
"It's almost as good as the letter Tucker and
Tristan dictated to me last night."
Travis kicked back in his seat, enjoying their usual
camaraderie. "You can't beat that."
Grinning, she handed over the letter. "Read it and
weep."
In the margins of the boys' letter, were crude drawings
of airplanes and trucks.
"Dear Santa,
"We want a spaceship big enough to fly away in.
"Love, Tucker and Tristan."
The waitress appeared with a basket of crisp tortilla chips,
still hot from the fryer, and some freshly made salsa. She
stayed long enough to take their orders, then disappeared.
"So what are you going to do?" Holly asked.
Travis shrugged as the waitress returned promptly with two
large glasses of iced tea. "I don't know. I was so
taken aback when the girls dictated their letter last night,
I didn't know what to say."
"Me, either." Holly sighed.
"When they get it into their headβ¦"
"β¦that something is possibleβ¦" she murmured,
continuing his thought.
"It's awfully hard to change their mind," he
finished.
"Supposedly it's a stage all three- and
four-year-olds go through." Holly munched on a chip.
"You knowβ¦. where they think they have everything
figured out and you can't convince them otherwise."
Silence fell between them.
They locked eyes and exchanged beleaguered grins, both of
them knowing how lucky they were to have these kinds of
problemsβespecially at Christmas.
"So what do you want to do?" Holly continued to hold
Travis's gaze.
"The usual dinner and a movie?" he offered with a
shrug, glad he didn't have to handle the upcoming
"explanation" alone.
Holly perked up. "Tonight?"
He nodded. "The sooner we clear this up with the little
ones, the better. And we can fit the 'discussion'
between the two events."
Holly grinned as the waitress bustled back to their table
with two plates of puffy tacos. "Sounds good to me."
There were times in every parent's life, Holly Baxter
thought, when "backup" was required. Tonight was one
of them. Which was why she was so very glad she had Travis
Carson to help her face life's problems, big and small.
"What do you mean we have to write letters to
Santa?" Travis's daughter, Sophie, demanded with all
the indignation a four-and-a-half-year-old spitfire could
muster.
"We already wrote them!" her three-year-old sister,
Mia, complained.
"And we wrote 'em, too," Holly's son,
Tucker, stated in frustration.
"Or at least you wrote down what we said," his
three-and-a-half-year-old twin brother, Tristan, concurred.
Holly looked around her kitchen table. The four children
looked so much alike, with their blond hair, big blue eyes
and cherubic little faces, they could have been siblings.
Indeed, during the two years she and Travis had lived
side-by-side, the preschoolers had spent so much time
together they might as well have been.
Which was what made it so easy to deal with them in a group.
"Your daddy and I know that." Holly took the lead
with Travis's tacit encouragement. Emboldened by his
sexy, reassuring presence, she continued affably, "But
there's a problem with what you all asked Santa to bring
you. First of all, boys, they don't make toy space ships
big enough for you to climb in, and secondly, toys like that
don't fly."
"Well, they should," Tucker grumbled, crossing his
arms in front of him.
Tristan stubbornly agreed. "Yeah, how are we supposed to
get to outer space if they don't go up in the air?"
Travis gave Holly a look from the other end of her
farmhouse-style kitchen table. "They have a point,"
he mouthed.
She ignored him. If Travis made her giggle, it would be all
over.
"Second," she said, even more gently to his little
girls, "Santa Claus makes toys at the North Pole, not
people, and mommies are people."
Travis nodded as if to say,
Way to go, team!
"But," Sophie exclaimed, "a mommy is what Mia
and I want!"
"Yeah," Mia echoed. " 'Cause we don't
have one."
Actually, Holly knew all too well that they'd once had a
very kind and loving mother. When she had first moved into
this house, two-and-a-half years ago, Travis had just lost
his wife. Back then, Diana had been all he talked about.
She'd tragically succumbed to a virus that had attacked
her heart and killed her in a matter of days.
Eventually, he had come to terms with the suddenness of his
late wife's death. But the loss of the woman he had
loved more than life had continued to haunt himβjust as
Holly's unexpected divorce had haunted her.
Eventually, things had gotten better. And now life was
pretty much back to normal, Holly thought. With one
exception. Neither of them was dating, or intended ever to
date again.
"The thing is, girls," Travis interjected quietly,
"mommies aren't brought by other people."
"Then how do you get one?" Sophie asked, completely
flummoxed.
"Generally, the daddy goes out, and finds a wife. When
he marries her, she becomes a mommy," Travis explained.
"Then that's what you should do, Daddy," Mia
said, as if it was obvious.
"Yeah," Tucker agreed, waving his arms
enthusiastically. "Just go out and find one."
Tristan nodded vigorously. "There's lots of them
around. We see them all the time at the preschool."
"Most of those mommies are already married," Travis
said.
"Our mom isn't!" Tucker blurted out.
Caught off guard, Holly skipped a breath and felt her pulse
ricochet. For a second, Travis looked equally nonplussed.
But the moment passed, and Travis took command of the room
again.
"What I'm trying to say, kids, is that finding a
wife is a long process and it's not something I have
time to do today. I'm very busy downtown."
"Building the Water Tower!" Tucker yelled, excited
as always by the thought of bulldozers, cranes and all
manner of construction equipment and trucks at the site of
Fort Worth's newest mixed-use development project.
"It's called One Trinity River Place," Holly
reminded her son gently. And it was quite a coup. Travis and
four of his friends each played a role in making the
development happen. Grady McCabe had put the deal together.
Dan Kingsland was the architect who had designed the
three-block-wide, thirty-eight story building overlooking
the Trinity River. Travis's company was handling the
construction. Jack Gaines's firm was installing all the
electronic, satellite and phone systems. And Nate
Hutchinson's financial services company was taking up a
huge chunk of office space. The rest would be leased out
independently. Plus there were retail shops and restaurants
going in on the lower floors, and luxury condominiums taking
up the top floors. All in all, it was a pretty impressive
project. And Holly'd had work there, too. Right now, she
was finishing up a mural in one of the restaurants on the
ground level.
"Anywayβ" Travis looked at all four kids "βthe
point is it is December 5, and we need to write new letters
to Santa, amending what you asked for into something he can
actually bring you."
"You know," Holly added for good measure,
"something he can actually fit on his sleigh."
"Like new baby dolls," Travis told his daughters.
"Or the bikes with training wheels that you boys have
been wanting since last summer," Holly said.
The kids shrugged, their excitement clearly dimmed.
"Okay," Sophie said finally.
"That's what we want," Tucker agreed with a
disgruntled sigh.
"Can we watch the movie now?" Mia asked. "I want
to see what Curious George does tonight!"
"Okay," Travis said. "But just thirty minutes.
And then we're going home and getting ready for bed.
School tomorrow."
The kids scrambled for places on the
L-shaped
sectional sofa in Holly's family room. They lined up
together, various blankets and stuffed animals on their
laps. Travis set up the DVD player. A second later, the
soothing sounds of the video about the monkey and the man in
the yellow hat started.
Travis came back into the kitchen.
From where they were standing, they could see the kids. But
the children had their backs to them, and were all focused
intently on the story unfolding on the TV screen.
"Well, I guess that went okay," Holly whispered.
He nodded, looking just as uncertain as she felt. Probably
because every time the two of them thought they had a
situation as tricky as this one handled, it turned out to be
not handled, after all. Travis gathered up the pizza boxes
and the trash sack. "I'll take this out."
Trying not to think how cozy domestic moments like this
felt, Holly forced herself to concentrate on the minutiae of
her life instead. "Would you mind getting my mail while
you're out there?" she asked. "I think I forgot
to bring it in after work."
"No problem. I'll get mine, too." Travis headed out.
Holly loaded the dishwasher.
Travis walked back in, a stack of mail in each hand.
"You want to get our trees this weekend?"
Holly nodded. It was something they usually did together. It
was easier having another adult helping when trying to
select, purchase and wrangle a tree on top of the car in a
busy parking lot.
"Saturday morning okay with you?" he asked.
"Sounds perfect." She looked up at him with a smile.
It was funny, Holly mused, how at ease she felt with him. At
thirty-six, he bore the perennial tan of someone who spent a
great deal of time working outdoors. His dark brown hair was
cut in short, casual layers that withstood the elements and
the restless movements of his large, capable hands. Like
Holly, Travis was a native Texan. He had big ideas, and even
bigger goals, and a practical down-to-earth nature she found
immensely comforting.
He was alsoβnot that it matteredβa very good-looking man.
And quite masculine as well. At six-foot-three-inches tall,
he had the big-boned, broad-shouldered build one would
expect of a construction worker. A ruggedly chiseled face.
Dark chocolate eyes that saw more than he ever said.
He dressed nicely, too. At work, he wore Levi's, canvas
shirts, vests and heavy steel-toed boots. The required
yellow hard hat. In his off time, the garments he wore were
much more expensive. Like the dark brown cashmere sweater he
had on tonight, tugged over a T-shirt, with a newer pair of
Levi's. His boots were made of really nice, soft brown
leather.
He smelled great, too. Like Old Spice and soap, baby shampoo
and manβ¦
"Earth to Holly," Travis teased in a low sexy voice,
abruptly jerking her back to reality. Startled, she met his
grin. "Do you want it or not?" he asked mildly,
still trying to hand over the day's mail.
Travis didn't know what was on Holly's mind.
It wasn't like her to lapse into daydreams, unless she
was working on a mural. Then she was likely to drift off
into that creative place in her heart and mind that brought
her so much joy.
But when they were just standing around? Talking?
Never.
He supposed it should have been expected, though.
Mrs. Ruley, their shared nanny, could do only so much in the
forty hours a week she worked for them. And with both Holly
and Travis working full-time, parenting solo, and Christmas
coming up faster than a speeding trainβ¦
She had a right to be distracted, he thought as he watched
her sort through her mail. But not⦠unhappy.
"Holly?" he asked, wondering why her hands were
shaking and her face had abruptly gone so pale. "What is
it?"
"I don't know," she whispered. She tore open the
envelope in her hands, removed the letter and began to read.
Her face paled even more. "Oh, no," she cried.
Travis glanced at the kidsβthey were still entranced by the
antics of the monkey and the man in the yellow hat.
His hand around Holly's shoulder, Travis guided her into
the mudroom, off the kitchen, where they could talk quietly
without being overheard by their brood. "Tell me,"
he insisted.
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