Matt Sanders

"Mr. Sanders?"

Matt glanced at the clock. It was just a little after 7 a.m. Aubree must have assumed he was up getting Ace ready for school. The truth was he had the process down to a science. He could get her ready, including her hair, breakfast and bag of lunch in under fifteen minutes.

"Yes, Miss Dawson?" he asked. Matt hadn't called her since the sleigh ride, since her unexpected kiss and the clear invitation in it.

He hadn't called her because he had told her things he had not expected to tell her. She was proving she could take chinks out of his armor that not a single other person had even dented.

But Aubree Dawson wanted things that Matt could not promise. After that night with Michelle and Brian, playing games, laughing, everything easy and light, he was aware of a deep longing in him, too.

To have a life like the one he'd had before. A stable life, where you woke up in the morning and trusted the day would go as you planned.

The truth? He wasn't even sure he could be the man he had been before, a man naively unaware how quickly things could go wrong in the world, naively believing his strength would be enough to protect those he loved from harm.

He was aware how vulnerable answering a longing like that had made a man.

"I'd like to discuss m last note with you."

But here was another truth. Despite his desire to harden himself against Aubree Dawson, her temptations and invitations, he could feel a smile starting somewhere in the vicinity of his chest. He relished it, that he was lying in bed under the warmth of his blanket, the phone to his ear listening to her.

He relished when she used that snippy, schoolmarm tone of voice on him. He wondered when that happened, exactly, that he had started enjoying that schoolmarm tone.

"I sent you a request to send cookies for the welcome party at the skating rink."

"I sent the damned cookies."

Silence. "We've discussed cussing."

"Ace is still in bed."

He could tell she was debating asking how he could get her ready for school in time if she was still in bed, but she wisely decided to stick to one topic at a time.

"All right," Aubree said, after a pause. "Lets discuss the damned cookies, then."

The smile was turning to laughter. He bit back.

"I'm in charge of cookies for the welcome party."

"The note said that." Plus, Ace was in excitement overdrive about the skating party to be held at the pond. Matt was going to have to give her the gift he had planned to give his daughter from Santa--the new skates--early.

"You said you missed my notes," she pointed out.

"Hmm," he returned, noncommittally. "I did say that." He realized what he missed was her.

"After she received my note, Mrs. Baker sent four dozen sugar cookies decorated individually like gift-wrapped Christmas parcels."

"Good for Gena."

"Mrs. Sullivan sent three dozen chocolate-dipped snowmen. Lacey Seward sent melt-in-your-mouth shortbread, shaped like Christmas balls, with icing ribbons."

"How did you know they were melt-in-your-mouth? Are you sampling the cookies, Miss Dawson? Tut-tut." He heard her bite back laughter.

Why were the simplest things such joy with her?

"Mrs. Berry sent--"

"Look, it sounds like you have plenty of cookies. You won't even need the box of Peek Freans I sent over."

"That's hardly the point, Mr. Sanders."

"What is the point?"

"Everyone else made the effort."

"Fine. I'll ask Michelle to whip me up a batch of brown snowmen, with ribbons around their necks, holding christmas parcels. Individually decorated."

"Your listening skills are very good, Mr. Sanders."

"Thank you." ridiculous to feel pleased she had noticed how closely he listened to her every word. However, he guess.

"However," Aubree continued, "I don't really think it's fair to ask Michelle to contribute to our class project."

"I don't know how to make cookies."

"Well, yes, I understand that. It is a situation that can be reminded. I mean, a few short weeks ago, I didn't know how to hang a coat hanger."

"You're not exactly ready to start building furniture."

"No, I suppose not."

Said a bit doubtfully, as if she might actually be considering trying to build some furniture. He reminded himself he'd have to follow up on getting her a new hammer before she wrecked something else trying to use the one she had.

"The point is," Aubree said, "I was willing to learn. If you and Ace would like to come over this afternoon after school, I would be happy to teach you how to make Christmas cookies."

His schedule had become insane because of the volunteer hours he was putting in on the set of The Christmas Angel. He still had special orders he had to come out for Christmas as well as the gate commission.

Plus, he was avoiding Aubree. And her lips. And the clear invitation he had seen in her eyes the other night after the disastrous sleigh ride. Boy, if a sleigh ride like that couldn't scare a girl off, what would?

And there was the other disastrous thing, too. Telling her about Valery and David had poked a little hole in the dam of feelings walled up behind him... He was all too aware that he might be like the little boy hoping to get his finger poked in the hold was going to be enough to hold it back.

The thing was, her voice on the other end of the phone was like a lifeline thrown to a man who had been in the water so long he didn't even know he was drowning.

The thing was, he knew it had cost her to make the move, and he could not bear to hurt her. It seemed she had experienced quite enough hurt in her life. Not at the hands of fate, either, but at the hands of the very people who should have loved and protected her.

Though there was probably a far more sensible way of looking at that. Hurt her a little now. Or a lot later.

He didn't feel like being sensible. Or maybe, closer to the truth, he was not as sure why he had been a few weeks ago about what sensible was.

"Sure," he said, as if he grabbed lifelines every single day. "What time would you like us to come bake cookies?"