Page 13 of Christmas in the Shadows

Gilbertcouldmake a mean spaghetti. It was one nice thing she could say about him.

But at school, he was cliquish and a brown-noser. All he cared about was winning and prestige.

Chelsea was fairly certain he’d gone to bat for some of his football players when they’d been failing certain classes. Their grades had mysteriously improved.

He’d even talked to Chelsea once about a quarterback when he’d failed his literature exam. She’d refused to change the boy’s grade, and Gilbert hadn’t been happy.

Yet the quarterback had somehow remained on the team. The principal and athletic director had allowed it.

She’d lost a little respect for all those men that day.

“Ninety-six,” Gilbert answered as if he always had the number ready in case anyone asked. “I know it sounds like a lot. Some only stayed for a day. Some for a week or a month, and others for years. I’m just glad I could offer a safe place for these kids during the hard times.”

Chelsea stole a glance at Tex, wondering what he thought of that statement.

He said nothing.

She reached for her phone looking for a distraction, only to realize she didn’t have it on her. She’d left it in the formal living room.

She stood and pointed behind her. “Let me just run get my phone before I forget about it.”

The truth was, she needed to be away from Tex a moment. Her emotions were getting the best of her, and her heart had begun to ache.

She hurried into the living room and spotted her phone on an end table. But in her haste to reach it, her foot caught on the edge of the coffee table.

She lunged forward, and her palms hit the carpet.

She gasped as pain screamed from her hand.

She jerked it back, unsure what she’d hurt herself on.

Then she saw the shard of glass.

The edge of it had cut through her skin, and now blood gushed out.

CHAPTER 4

Tex didn’t care what Chelsea said. She needed stitches.

He led her outside toward his truck.

“You don’t have to do this,” Chelsea murmured. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m taking you to Urgent Care.”

“But you’re here to see Gilbert. If you insist on me going, I can drive myself.”

“Wrong,” Tex stated. “You shouldn’t drive yourself with a cut like that. You’re losing blood, and you could get lightheaded. It would be unsafe—for you and everyone else on the road.”

Chelsea opened her mouth as if to argue, but then she shut it again.

Tex helped her into his black Dodge Ram, closed the door for her, and then ran around to climb inside himself. He cranked the engine and waited a couple of seconds for the heat to start blasting through the vents.

As the evening deepened, the temperature had dropped into the twenties. It was downright chilly.

He tugged his coat off and offered it to her. When she started to refuse, he said, “At least place it around your legs to keep you warm. My truck isn’t the quickest to heat up, and I know you’re cold.”

She shivered but then stopped as if trying to force herself not to look cold. “But?—”

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