Forty-five minutes later, Amber watched as Jace put the finishing touches on the bike. Packing Styrofoam was scattered across the floor, but they were down to the last few nuts and bolts.

By all rights, Amber should be exhausted. She never stayed up this late.

She knew Bo would be up early for Christmas.

But she was wired.

And a little afraid that if she went to bed, she'd wake up tomorrow, and this would all have been a dream.

Jace tangling his fingers with hers as she handed him the wrench.

Lifting exaggerated eyebrows as she read each step in the directions, since he'd planned to wing it assembling the bike.

The long, hot glances he kept sending her.

It seemed surreal. Her plan had worked. Her dream was coming true. They'd agreed to take things one day at a time.

Jace liked her.

She covertly moved to pinch the skin between her thumb and forefinger. Ouch!

Not dreaming.

He settled the second wheel in place and held out his palm for the nut and bolt she handed him.

He was focused on his task. Casual. "You'll have to forgive me when you open my gift in the morning," he said. "I made the purchase when you were just the nanny." He looked up, his eyes meeting hers. "I'll make it up to you."

A thrill went through her. "Not necessary."

He went back to tightening the bolt. "As soon as I find another babysitter we can trust, we're going on a date."

She smiled. "I was going to have to protest if you hired Mrs. Ritter again. Not sure how she didn’t notice him sneaking by."

"I'm just glad Bo is okay. Any ideas what caused the reaction?"

She shrugged. "There's so much junk in those corn nuts, it could've been anything."

He winced slightly. "I get it. I'll cut down on the junk food. Maybe." He winked.

He gave the wheel a spin. Was maybe a little too casually as he said, "Something you said earlier is bugging me."

Her pulse sped. "Oh?" She'd said a lot of things tonight. Been more daring than she'd imagined she could be.

"You said you didn't have family. But you must have somebody..."

Heat flushed her face.

Jace turned the bike over in his big hands and set it on its wheels, giving it a quick roll back and forth. It moved smoothly.

And then he looked up at her. His eyes were warm, curious.

But her stomach was clenched in a tight ball.

Why had he brought this up now, when everything was going her way?

She didn't want to see the warmth in his eyes fade.

She forced a yawn. Pretended to blink sleepy eyes at him. "Could we talk about this another time?"

Some of the openness in his gaze faded. "Is there something you don't want me to know?"

Yes.

She swallowed. Her throat felt tight and hot.

"I'd just rather talk about this sometime that's not early Christmas morning."

He sat back on his haunches. "I guess that answers my question." Suspicion and something else warred in his expression.

Her pulse pounded in her ears.

There was no win here. She didn't want Jace to know about her past.

She also didn't want to lose his trust.

"Jace—"

"You're right." He stood. Didn't look at her.

She followed suit.

"We should talk about this later," he finished.

But the warmth in his eyes had faded completely, and panic rose in her throat.

"There’s no family," she blurted.

He went still, tension radiating from the set of his shoulders. Her panic increased.

The words were heavy in her throat. It was hard to get them out. "I grew up in foster care. Aged out of the system. I grew up mostly in group homes.”

His expression was unreadable, and her insides twisted into a knot worse than ten strands of Christmas lights.

When she'd told the other two guys she'd dated about her past, she'd seen the judgment in their eyes. Being an orphan wasn't her fault, but that didn't seem to matter.

She started to shake. "I didn't want you to know because... I was afraid you'd think I wasn't good enough to be Bo's nanny."

Mallory had been her only reference. Her previous jobs had been slinging fast food and cashiering for a big box store. She hadn't known anything about kids before she'd started working for Jace.

She waited for him to speak, heart in her throat.

He stepped toward her and closed her in his arms.

But he didn't kiss her again.

A few minutes later, after they'd said their good-nights in the hall and retired to their respective bedrooms, she lay in bed beneath the covers, shivering.

She knew every pattern in the popcorn ceiling. In the beginning, she'd lain awake at night, praying Jace wouldn't ask about her background. Afraid that he'd ask for a resume she didn't have or demand she prove her non-existent mothering skills.

She'd woken every morning before dawn to strategize how she'd spend her time with Bo, what meals she'd cook, what chores she could do around the house to distract Jace from her background.

It had seemed to work. He'd never questioned her—until now.

If she'd known that getting close to Jace would mean revealing the truth about her past, would she have stayed home? Saved her money and not bought the red dress?

She didn't know anything anymore.

Only how empty she felt.

Now that he knew her lack of qualifications, would he demand she leave the ranch?

She couldn't bear the thought of saying good-bye to Bo—or to Jace.

Maybe if she begged, he'd allow her to stay on.

But she was deeply afraid that he would never again look at her with the warmth he'd shown tonight.

Jace had made a mistake.

He'd known it when he'd held a trembling Amber in his arms. After what she'd revealed, he hadn't known what to say to fix it. So he'd said nothing.

He knew better.

Now he forced himself up and out of his warm bed. He couldn't get to sleep anyway.

He threw on a pair of jeans and a second thermal shirt. He crept through the quiet house and paused in the mudroom to don his heavy coat and boots.

The snow hadn't let up any, and he used the line to the barn again as he crossed the yard.

He went to the pen where he'd put the dog and her puppies. Stood there staring down at the sleeping animals.

Seriously, he should be in the poem. Everyone was sleeping, and he was the mouse.

He'd been kidding himself before when he'd convinced himself he imagined Amber's reaction to the puppies.

She'd wanted one but had hidden her disappointment for Jace's sake.

And now it made sense. If she'd grown up in group homes, she’d never have owned a pet.

He still remembered being fourteen and finally talking his parents into sending him to the Triple T ranch for the first time. He'd found himself on the back of a horse. Known a camaraderie with the animal that had been special.

Amber had never had that. Had never had any kind of real security.

And tonight, he'd botched things. Probably made her feel worse.

Part of him wanted to go and wake her up, beg her forgiveness for being stupid.

The sane part of him said it'd have to wait until the morning.

She had to know what she meant to Bo. Jace's son would be devastated if she ever left.

And he'd thought he'd made his feelings plain during their time tonight.

But was that enough for someone like Amber? Someone who'd been moved around at the whims of a bureaucratic system? He hadn't told her he was falling for her. He'd told her they should take it a day at a time.

He'd be lucky if she'd give him the time of day come tomorrow morning.

Unless... could he give her a perfect Christmas morning? Deliver a present that would show her exactly where she belonged—here, with him and Bo?

He stared at the puppies a little longer, contemplating how he could pull this off.

He'd never made a big gesture with Patricia. She'd known him too well, and they'd been together since high school. He'd never had to. Maybe if they'd had more time, maybe he'd have eventually dug himself a hole so deep it would've taken a monumental gesture to get back in her good graces.

Patricia was gone. Amber was here.

And it was time to man-up. Admit to the feelings he had for her.

If that meant giving her a Christmas she'd never forget, then that's what he would do.