Page 175 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

He smiles at me. “I don’t think you need to worry about Aidan just yet. He told me that he’s trying to make a time machine so he can visit the ankylosaurus in its natural habitat.”

He’s trying to deflect, to shift the topic from him, but I’m not done with what he told me. “So your dad was pushing you to join the family company when you were that young?”

He nods, his mouth a little firm in the corners. “From the day I was born.”

From what I read, he was running the family business at the time of his arrest. Does it still exist? Does he blame himself if it doesn’t? Did his father’s death have anything to do with what happened with that car? I’m about to ask him something else, but the smell of burning batter makes me flinch. I hurry to flip the two pancakes in the pan.

“Oh no!” Without thinking about it, I say, “Don’t worry, I’ll eat those.”

He walks over, glancing into the pan. A crease forms between his eyebrows. “Why would you?”

“Because there won’t be enough batter left for me to make new ones for both of us.”

“Then we’ll go out,” he says. “Or I’ll make more. There’s no reason for you to eat burnt food.”

It’s a small gesture, as such things go, but it makes me think of what Nicole said last night—you don’t need to apologize for existing, Mary.This is what I do, what I’ve always done. Ever since I started helping Mom make family dinners as a teenager I’ve taken the burnt parts, the imperfect pancakes, the food that fell apart before it made it to the plate, the smaller pieces. It was a habit that followed me into my failed marriage. Up until now, no one has ever commented on it.

Emotion clogging my throat, I extend my foot to the trash can pedal, step on it, and flip the ruined pancakes in.

“That’s my girl,” Jace says, and a thrill runs through me, from my chest to the tip of my head and the soles of my feet. “Now, let’s get you some pancakes.”

“But you only have shorts! It’s freezing outside today.”

“We’ll run from the car,” he says with a grin. “Nothing like some good morning cardio.” Then his gaze drifts to the drawers beside the stove. “Speaking of which, is it still there?”

I don’t need to ask him what he’s talking about. I just nod, my nerve endings all firing at once.

“Good.” He smirks. “We’ll check on it later.” Then he sweeps me off my feet and carries me to the hallway. I laugh in surprised delight as he sets me down beside the shoe rack.

But he’s barely gotten one of his shoes on when his phone buzzes. He takes one look at the display and immediately answers. After listening for a few moments, he swears under his breath, then says, “I’ll take care of it. Stay inside.”

He finishes tugging on his other shoe, the phone still pressed to his ear. Seconds ago, the look in his eyes was soft and fond, but now he seems hard. Closed off.

Everything in me tightens.

Has something bad happened? Is Ben in trouble, maybe? Guilt stabs me at the realization that I don’t know enough about Jace’s life to catalog the bad things that could have happened.

But I don’t have any time to feel guilty about that, because he hangs up with a gruff “goodbye” and stuffs his phone into his pocket. Reaching for my face, he cups my cheek, running his thumb over my bottom lip. “We’ll have to get pancakes another time,friend.”

“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Has something happened to Ben?”

Surprise crosses his face. “No.” Then he pauses. “I don’t know. I haven’t talked to my sister since two Christmases ago.” He swears again, then runs his hand through his hair. “Thatwas my neighbor. Roger. His cat escaped, and he needs help rounding her up.”

I have a sudden image of a man as big as Jace calling for help finding a cat, but that doesn’t line up.

“Why does he need help?”

“He’s in his eighties and has Parkinson’s. I can’t let him roam the streets looking for Cleo. I don’t even know that he’d be able to pick her up if he found her.”

My heart swells. I start to put on my shoes, and he shakes his head. “Mary, you don’t have to do that. I have no idea where Cleo might have gotten off to.”

“Friends help friends,” I say, lifting an eyebrow. “Besides. I have resources you don’t.” I gesture to the photo of Maisie on the wall. “As you know, my sister runs an animal shelter, and she’s trained me well. No animal left behind. Even if it is a cat.”

Once I get the second shoe on, he helps me up, looking at me with an intensity I can’t read. He doesn’t pull his hand away as we walk toward the door, and neither do I.

I open it to a tower of Amazon boxes stacked on my stoop. Did I really order that much? I only remember the duvet cover, the phone cover, the bra and panty sets, and—oh yeah, I spent another half hour buying some Christmas presents for Aidan.

He laughs, but it’s an almost delighted sound, so different from his demeanor seconds before. “This is why Amazon is taking over the world, you know.”

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