Sweet dreams? Oh, she was having dreams, all right. But sweet wasn’t the word, because if there had been any real sugar involved, it would’ve caramelized in the first thirty seconds.

Her body had still been tingling as she crawled between the sheets. Hanna had refused to go over every second of the date, or let her mind linger on the hand holding, or how good it felt to have him with her all morning.

Although it had turned out to be impossible to push the kiss from her mind. In fact, that’s what she had to have been thinking about as she fell asleep because…

Dreams. Hot ones. Ones where all of her clothes magically disappeared, and she was no longer in her bed but in Brad’s, and from there things got a little hazier in detail, but the heat remained—flaming hot, achingly hot.

Maybe there was something good about the heat, though, because eventually as her limbs relaxed, she fell into a deep sleep. The sensation of big, careful arms holding her felt far too comforting.

When she woke, Hanna rolled and eyed the clock. She had fifteen minutes before she needed to crawl out of bed, so she stretched lazily, feeling a snap crackle pop along her spine.

It was nice to not have to rush. It was nice to feel as if she’d accomplished some good things that morning, even though, as Brad had pointed out, now she was at the hurry-up-and-wait stage.

She slipped into the washroom, brushing her hair and examining the dark circles under her eyes. She was a vision of beauty these days.

The door on Brad’s side of the bathroom opened and she twirled, hands rising to cover her body. “Stop. I’m in here—”

Only it wasn’t Brad. Instead, a man with blond hair stood in the doorway. His eyes dropped over her but Hanna didn’t see anymore. She screamed and swung her brush at his head. The instant the heavy-backed object made contact she let go, racing out the opposite door and through her bedroom.

Two steps into the main hallway she slammed into another body, swinging her fists and fighting until she recognized Brad’s voice.

“Hanna, stop. What’s wrong?”

She went limp in his arms, clutching his waist. “There’s a man in my room. Our room. The bathroom,” she finally got out, clinging tightly to his torso but squirming behind him like a child in hiding.

Brad straightened to his full height. He pushed her door open just as the man came out of Brad’s room.

Hanna clutched at Brad’s hips. “That’s him.”

“Mark?” Fury threw the name from Brad’s lips. “What the hell are you doing in my room?”

“Checking out the decorations. Figures. As soon as you knew the place was yours, you started hauling in women.”

“You’re disgusting,” Brad said. He stepped forward, keeping his body between Hanna and the other man, forcing an opening for Hanna to be able to reach her bedroom door. “Hanna, go get dressed.”

She vanished into her bedroom, closing the door and locking it behind her. She raced across the room to the bathroom and did the same to that lock, and only then did she take a breath.

Out in the hallway, shouting continued. Not on Brad’s part—his comments were now few, deep and controlled. It was the other man who’d raised his voice, making comments about favouritism and floozies.

That was a new one. She’d never been called a floozy before. She’d heard slut and whore, which, compared to floozy, were whole lot nastier.

A crash rang out as a body slammed into one of the walls. Mark, from the sound of the curses that followed.

Hanna’s hands shook as she pulled on her clothes, moving determinedly because there was no getting around it. She had to go into the main part of the house to get her keys so she could grab her daughter.

Things had gone suddenly quiet. She stole down the hallway on tiptoes, peeking around corners before committing to step into the front foyer.

Brad waited for her at the front entrance. He checked her over carefully, even as he shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Who was that?”

“My brother.”

“The one who likes to fight with Patrick?”

Brad nodded. “I took his key away. There’s no way he can get back in the house unless he breaks something, and I told him if he did that I’ll not only call the police, I’ll call an ambulance.”

The implication was easy to understand. Mark would need the ambulance—

The knot inside Hanna loosened, although she didn’t like to think about why the violence was so reassuring. Obviously, she was far more bloodthirsty than she’d imagined.

Brad’s arms went around her, and she stepped against him, shaking as she took a deep breath then relaxed. “He surprised me, that’s all. He didn’t do anything.”

“That’s the only reason he’s still breathing,” Brad said softly. “Hurting, but breathing.”

She glanced down, lifting his hand to check his knuckles. Sure enough his right hand was all roughed up compared to when she’d held it at lunch earlier that day. “I hit him too,” she confessed. “With my hairbrush.”

A soft chuckle escaped Brad. It sounded wrong, and yet right. As if he was proud of her. “That explains why Mark’s nose was dented before I started.”

The alarm sounded on her watch—the one she’d set to warn her so she’d never be late to meet Crissy. “I have to go.”

He rubbed her back once more then released her. He cursed softly and reached for his coat, jamming his feet into his boots. “I’ll drive.”

She shook her head. “We’re going shopping.”

“So? I still need to do some Christmas shopping.” He pulled a toque on his head then motioned her out the door. “Seriously. Hanna, you can’t drive yet. You’re shaking, and I want to make sure the bastard took my warning to heart and left the mountain.”

She wasn’t about to argue. Her entire body was quivering, and she didn’t have time to settle down, considering school was nearly out.

By the time they picked up Crissy and did some shopping, it was four-thirty. They got back to the house to be greeted by the scent of frying hamburger meat and more Christmas music playing.

Tacos for supper were followed by decorating of the tree, and the day ended with another trip to the barn to visit the kittens.

Crissy turned quiet as she cuddled them, her enthusiasm from earlier muted.

Hanna stroked a finger over the soft fur-baby in her daughter’s lap. “Are you okay, sweetie?”

Crissy nodded slowly before shaking her head. “I wrote a letter to Santa. We were supposed to mail them today, and I didn’t have mine.”

Her sadness was tangible. Hanna curled her arms around Crissy and hugged her tight, pressing their cheeks together. “There’s still time,” Hanna assured her. “You know Santa uses magic mail service.”

“I know. Mrs. Fields helped me write another one already, but it was a really good letter,” Hanna complained.

This time it was easier to smile, patting her daughter on the back. “I bet your new one was just as good. Are you ready for bed now?”

“Almost.” Crissy went through all the motions of getting ready but when she was in bed and staring up at Hanna, her lower lip quivered. “You have to go to work?”

Hanna sat on the edge of the bed. “Oh, sweetie. Yes. Mr. Patrick is here to keep an eye on you. You don’t need to be scared.”

“I’m not scared,” Crissy insisted. “You’re the one who almost got burnt up. Santa took care of me.” She lowered her voice. “He told me to hide. What if he doesn’t tell you to hide?”

The bands wrapped around her chest tightened, and Hanna squeezed her little girl, not quite sure what Crissy was talking about, other than being afraid. “I am glad Santa was taking care of you, but Mommy is going to be okay.”

“Promise?”

Hanna sat back as she drew an X over her heart. “Promise.”

Crissy wiggled up on her knees and threw her arms around Hanna’s neck, kissing her hard before plopping down on the mattress. “I’ll see you in the morning,” she said softly.

“Mommy will kiss you when I get home.” She kissed her before she left, as well, heading into the hallway.

“I’ll take care of her,” Patrick promised. “Don’t you worry.”

The next moments turned out to be some of the hardest Hanna had ever faced. Leaving that warm, safe haven and going out to the truck where her cleaning supplies waited. Driving away, the homey lights of Lone Pine fading behind her as she headed down the road.

Facing the fears that she hadn’t even realized were there. Like leaving her little girl and going back into the darkness—

Hanna gripped the steering wheel tighter and kept going, because that’s what she always did. She kept struggling forward, no matter how hard.

Brad finished cleaning the kitchen, chuckling as he put away the fifth pot. This was why his mom had always been reluctant to let his dad cook. The man couldn’t fry an egg without using three pans.

The house had gone quieter after Hanna had left. The settling creaks and sighing noises from a warm house on a cold day mixed with the Christmas carols still drifting from the living room. His dad had pulled out a stack of ancient records earlier in the evening and absolutely fascinated Crissy by showing her how the magic Frisbees produced noise.

Now his father’s canes echoed like slow drumbeats on the wooden floor as he made his way into the kitchen.

“Put on the kettle,” Patrick ordered.

Brad moved to obey the request, sliding a few Christmas cookies out of the full cookie jar onto a plate and plopping them in front of his father. “How are you feeling?”

He’d caught his father rubbing his legs earlier in the evening, a sure sign that the weather was getting ready to change.

Patrick made a face. “Oh, they ache, but they still get me where I need to go, so I don’t have much to complain about. I want to talk to you about something.”

Brad finished wiping his hands on the towel, hanging it to dry before joining his father at the table. The wind howled, shaking the windowpanes, the yard light flickering as snow whirled in front of it.

“Storm moving in?” Patrick asked.

There was another thing that made Brad smile. “You didn’t watch the news tonight. I think that’s the first time in years you haven’t been glued to the screen all evening.”

His father grabbed one of the cookies and began turning it in his fingers, fidgeting. Definitely fidgeting. “Well, yeah, I was busy.”

Busy playing with an eight-year-old who looked at him with wide eyes and delight as he’d showed her how to carefully balance a quarter on the record player needle to keep it in firm contact with the vinyl to produce the beautiful music.

Brad chose not to tease. Instead, he helped himself to a cookie, pausing to admire what had to be one of Crissy’s decorating attempts.

“When were you going to tell me that Mark showed up?” his father asked sternly.

A streak of anger rushed through Brad, but he chose to bite off the head of his gingerbread cookie instead of responding too soon. By the time he’d finished destroying the sweet treat, he was able to speak with control. “He showed up. I told him he wasn’t welcome unless invited. That’s about all there is to it.”

His father stared at him, fingers tapping on the table. “Hanna seems a lot more perky than I expected, considering.”

“I expect shock from the fire is still going to hit,” Brad told him quietly. “Crissy too. So be ready for it if it happens while you’re here with her alone.”

Patrick hummed thoughtfully. “I want you to give me some hints of what to do if that happens, but that’s not what I was talking about.”

Brad paused. “I don’t know what you mean, then.”

He got the look from his father that was usually reserved for those moments when he was being extraordinarily dull and clueless. “A total stranger barged in on her. You don’t think that might have scared her a little? Although I know Mark would never do anything to hurt her, she didn’t know that.”

“She was scared, but she still defended herself.” Brad fought for second before giving in and letting his grin show. “She didn’t quite break his nose, but she made a good attempt.”

Patrick shook his head. “I hope he grows up someday. I don’t know why he’s got to be like this.”

Brad got up to answer the whistling kettle, but he spoke firmly to his father. “It’s not your fault—his behaviour. I don’t know what Mark was doing here, but Hanna seemed to recover nicely.”

His dad waited until they were both seated at the table again before proceeding to poke into Brad’s calm and orderly world.

“I met Hanna for the first time shortly after she came to town,” he shared. “She was at the police station getting a security check done so she could do her cleaning and whatnot. I was getting mine so I could volunteer with the kiddies.”

The security that schools and other places used for volunteers was something Brad thoroughly approved. After his mom died, being a volunteer had become the number one distraction in his father’s life.

“You’ve known her for a lot longer than I have,” he pointed out.

Patrick’s gaze caught him, clear and sharp. “You’re not going to let her get away, are you?”

Blunt. “None of your business,” he said, mainly because he knew it would make his father grin.

Only Patrick didn’t smile. “That girl has got some bad memories from when she was growing up. I know we’re going through a rough spell with your brother, and all, but between me and Connie, you boys had a good upbringing. You knew we were there for you, and that you were loved.”

Brad thought back to the few cryptic moments when Hanna had spoken about growing up. She’d never mentioned her family without stopping in midstream. “You saying Hanna didn’t have that?”

“I’m saying you really should talk to the woman. Make sure she knows you’re not just looking for a good time.”

Resisting the temptation to roll his eyes was far more difficult than he’d expected. “I didn’t know you were taking up a new hobby,” he mumbled at his father.

Patrick raised a brow.

“Seriously, if you want to be a matchmaker, there’re a couple of your friends who I think are well beyond the age they should make a move.”

His father laughed out loud. “Yeah, well, it’s tough to teach old dogs new tricks. But you need to walk careful but still make it clear what’s going on in that head of yours. Don’t keep secrets.”

“I’m trying not to scare the woman,” Brad pointed out. “Straight-up announcing what I’ve got planned probably lands under the category of ways to freak her the hell out.”

He didn’t think he had to mention that he had basically done that very thing only hours earlier.

“Not necessarily,” Patrick assured him. “But probably the best way for you to find out what she really needs is to talk to her.”

Which sounded like an amazing idea. Brad drained his cup and got to his feet. “You got things under control here?”

Patrick glanced at his watch. “You’re going out? Now?”

“If you’re good with it, yes.” He placed his hands on the table and leaned forward, allowing his grin to break free. “Someone gave me the very good advice that I should talk with my girl. Fortunately, I know exactly where to find her.”

As he turned and left the room, his father’s chuckle danced on the air with the music.

Brad snuck down the hall and opened the door to Crissy’s room carefully, peeking in on her. She was curled up in the middle of the bed with a pile of pillows around her, nestled like a kitten. Her breathing was soft and even, and Brad didn’t try to fight the strange new sensation curling through him as he watched her sleep.

He closed the door quietly and pulled on a thick coat before heading into the cold. The entire drive down the hill into town he mulled over the fact that, while he’d come back to Heart Falls with the intention of making it his home, he’d never expected to find someone like Hanna, with someone like Crissy, who were both so perfect for him.

He didn’t think most guys daydreamed about becoming a dad the way women seemed to obsess about having a baby, but he wanted a family. Seeing Crissy smile, seeing her sadness wiped away as Hanna spoke softly to her—being a part of the little girl’s life appealed to him as much as the other parts of finding a partner.

Oh, he wanted Hanna. There was no doubt about how much he was looking forward to moving ahead with their physical relationship.

But he wanted just as much to have Crissy in his life. To have her ask to be read books and to listen as she shared stories about what she did at school. Maybe that made him strange in the eyes of the world, but so be it.

He didn’t really give a damn what the world thought.

He pulled in behind Hanna’s borrowed truck and made his way to where she was visible vacuuming inside the local dentist’s office. He rapped on the glass door, and she jerked upright, confused until she spotted him.

She smiled for a split second before her eyes widened and she rushed forward, worry overtaking her expression.

The instant she jerked the door open he offered calmly, “Crissy is fine.”

She stepped back, hand on her chest, relief streaking across her face as he snuck inside, closing and locking the door behind him. “You scared me.”

“Sorry about that, but I didn’t know if you’d hear if I phoned, and I didn’t think a call would scare you any less. I checked her right before I came. She was sound asleep.”

Hanna tilted her head and examined him. “Why are you here?”

He offered her his widest grin. “To help.”

One brow arched higher than the other. “Because cleaning is something they teach in firefighting school?”

He brushed his fingers over her cheek. “Actually, yes. Not the cleaning part, but the bit about how it might be hard for you to be alone, back in a situation similar to when you recently experienced a traumatic event.”

She stood motionless for a turn before pressing her cheek against his hand, as if to assure him she wasn’t trying to run away. “Oh.”

He stepped closer, keeping hold of her as he leaned in and stole a kiss.

He backed up reluctantly, happy at the way her pulse pounded visibly at the base of her throat. “How’s the cleaning going?”

Hanna swallowed hard. She regrouped before answering with forced perkiness in her voice. “Great. It’s going great. I need to finish vacuuming then I can mop, and this office is done.”

“Great to hear. What can I help with?”