Tracy Madison - Their Christmas Angel

Whichever of the three came first, but more likely than not, the first.

A year ago, her doctor had hesitantly given her the go-ahead for one round of fertility injections, before her already-compromised ovarian function ceased to exist. It had worked, but she had only a limited number of eggs to work with, which meant she had a limited amount of time to conceive. But she wasn’t about to give up unless she had no other choice.

History had taught her the importance of always moving toward her goals and doing whatever she could to fulfill her wants today. Because tomorrow or next month or two years down the road could be too late. Life offered zero guarantees. Which was why she had gone through a round of fertility injections a year ago, despite the concerns for her health, for the possible danger of the increased hormone levels raising her risk for recurrence.

Risk versus reward. The reward, naturally, was a baby.

And oh, how she yearned to become a mother. Not only was she ready for the commitment, but with everything she’d gone through and the fears she’d faced head-on, she was a stronger woman now than ever before. She loved life. She loved her life.

All she needed to make the world—her world—complete was her child.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Nicole turned to walk in the opposite direction, having no idea which way Roscoe had lumbered off. As far as she knew, if he wasn’t safely ensconced in someone’s house or still running and exploring, he might have returned to the school and was now wandering the parking lot in search of treats, kids to play with and hands to stroke his back. Roscoe soaked in love with the absorbency of a sponge.

In her hurry, she pivoted so fast that she came close to barging into another body—a strong, tall body that belonged to none other than Parker Lennox, the handsome blue-eyed, sandy-blond widower all the teachers raved about—and her feet, which were encased in slippery-soled flats, skidded on the snowy concrete, causing her to lose her balance and topple backward.

Mere seconds before her angel-gowned behind smacked the hard, frozen ground for the second time in less than thirty minutes, Parker grabbed her by the arms and yanked her upright. The sudden change in momentum sent her tumbling forward, directly into his solid—oh, wow, very solid—chest. Strong arms came around her, holding her steady.

Security and well-being stole in, quickly followed by a strange, dizzying sensation of déjà vu. If she believed in such things, she might think that some small part of her, by his touch alone, recognized this man and had, in fact, been waiting for him to arrive in her life. To do what? Make all her dreams come true and supply her with a happily-ever-after ending?

Ha. Now, that would be a fairy tale fit for the stage.

“Tell me,” Parker said, his arms still around her and his voice somewhat amused, “are one-after-another collisions typical for you, Miss Bradshaw? Or am I a special case?”

“Nicole, please.” Embarrassment warmed her cheeks, from those out-there, happily-ever-after thoughts. She pulled free from his grasp to stand on her own, but they were still a little too close for comfort. Her comfort. Carefully retreating a few feet, she said, “And it seems you must be a special case, as no, I’m not normally so clumsy.”

“Hmm,” he said, still sounding amused. “I don’t believe I’ve knocked a woman off her feet in thirty-plus years, and now it’s happened twice in one night. Should I be flattered or concerned enough for your safety that I keep a certain distance between us?”

Laughing, she scanned the area for Roscoe and tried to ignore the attraction sizzling in her blood. Hard to do, especially when combined with the security, the stability, she’d experienced while in his arms. Something she absolutely could have used those many days and weeks she’d spent in the hospital, when—between the horrors of chemotherapy and several surgeries—she feared that fate would not grant her another tomorrow, let alone a baby.

Fortunately, she had survived. And four years later, she remained blissfully healthy.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” she said in response to Parker’s question, “but you shouldn’t feel flattered or concerned. I’ve simply had one of those days. We all have them.”

“That we do.” Tucking his arm into hers, as if he’d done so on numerous occasions in the past, he said, “But since today is one of those days for you, I will feel significantly better if I do everything in my power to see that you don’t fall down again.”

Nicole could have yanked her arm free and insisted she was completely able to walk without his assistance—which, of course, she was—but this time, instead of being smacked over the head with déjà vu, all she felt, from the tips of her toes to the top of her now halo-free head, was the safe, steady balance that Parker seemed to embody. And in a snap, her anxiety over her missing dog and being late at the school diminished to a much more manageable level.

So she allowed their arms to remain linked and said, “I suppose that’s fair. But if we don’t find Roscoe soon, I should probably go back to the school and...” Trailing off, she sighed. She did not want to return to the auditorium without her dog. “I just hope we find him soon.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Parker said with confidence. “Where have you looked?”

“The way I just came. But I didn’t knock on doors or look in backyards. I probably should have, but I thought he’d come when he heard my voice.” He normally did, even if it was only to show himself and take off running again. Darn it! She needed to find Roscoe.

That silly, overgrown dog was her best friend and her sanctuary. Now and when she’d fought for her life. Her parents and her brother had held her hand and helped in every way they could have back then, but Roscoe was the only soul she’d shared her worst fears with.

“Let’s go the other way past the school,” Parker said, leading them in that direction. “Don’t worry. He’s out here somewhere, and between his moose-like size and...uh...that pair of horns on his head, he’ll be hard to miss. Those were horns, right?”

“Yeah. Dumb idea, dressing him like a reindeer.”

Parker chuckled. “Maybe that’s why he ran away, out of humiliation.”

“Oh, not hardly. I used to...” Pausing, she swallowed the words she’d almost said, that she used to buy matching bandannas for her head and his neck, when she’d lost her hair and didn’t feel like wearing a wig. “He doesn’t mind being dressed in...anything. I’m more worried he might scare whomever he comes across, since it’s dark and hard to identify that he’s a dog.”

“Ah. Gotcha. What breed is he, by the way? I didn’t get a good enough look to tell.”

“Who knows?” she said with a forced laugh. “He’s a Heinz 57.”

“So he could be part moose,” Parker said. And while she couldn’t see his face, she could imagine his grin without too much trouble. “And you’re from Denver? I’m guessing, based on the reason most people move here, that you’re a skier?”

Nicole yelled for Roscoe before responding. “I can ski, but I’d prefer not to. Much to the dismay of my family, who are all avid skiers. My brother, Ryan, relocated here several years ago because of the skiing, and about six months later, my parents followed. They’re all about the slopes, so you were right in a way, but I moved here to be close to family.”

“I see. Well, that’s important.”

“Yep. I...didn’t have any real reason to stay in Denver and my family is one of those super-duper, annoyingly close types. Of course, I had to find a job here first, and since music teacher positions are relatively scarce—especially in smaller communities—I had to be patient.”