A Hero Grinch for Christmas Read Free

battlefield every day. No one knew what killing someone felt like. No one could understand the terror of losing a buddy in combat, the moment when enemy fire struck a fellow soldier and he stopped breathing in your arms. Hunter lived with the guilt that his entire unit had been slaughtered. Analyzing every move, every decision. Wondering what he could have done differently, if he could have saved his comrade’s life.
    He lifted his head and stared in the mirror hanging over the sink.
    They’d given him a medal for Christ’s sake. A damned decoration for doing his job. For doing his duty. For living and leaving his brothers behind.
    He closed his eyes. There weren’t enough drugs in the world that could shake the memories or dull that pain. Not that he would take pills. He’d never filled the prescriptions the doctors gave him. He did try to numb his mind with alcohol, yet all he managed to do was get drunk on his ass, memories intact. When he learned of his uncle’s death, it shattered his heart, leaving a hole the size of the Milky Way. Darkness filled the void where hope had once been.
    He’d missed his chance to move in with his uncle. To share the man’s dream, to give him the only thing he’d asked for. Time. Hunter had seen too many deaths. Too much mourning. So he finished his enlistment, separated from the military, and then headed for Colorado.
    And what did he end up with? An empty house and a broken heart.
    He decided to go downstairs and look for a bottle of liquor. Denny had always kept the house well stocked, aside from the wine in his cellar.
    A few embers glowed in the stone fireplace, so he threw on more logs and watched them catch fire. Staring into the flames relaxed him. Slowly, his tense muscles eased.
    Calmer now, he went to the kitchen and checked the upper cabinets. He chose a bottle of Jack Daniels, opened it, and took a swig. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, relishing the burn. Grabbing the bottle by the neck, he padded to the fireside where he settled back in his uncle’s favorite recliner.
    Screw the holidays; all Hunter needed was the comfort whiskey offered.

Chapter Three
    A strong gust of wind rushed through the door as Clarice Shadwell hurried into the shop.
    “Oh, my heavens!”
    Dani rushed to help her close the door. The wind whirled snow in a circle, and half of what she’d shoveled this morning just blew inside.
    “Thank you, Dani. The wind is really kicking up.”
    “Are you all right, Mrs. Shadwell? I didn’t realize the gusts were so strong.”
    She pulled her scarf from her head and patted her teased up hair-do. Dani hid a smile. Talk about a bird’s nest.
    “Let me take your coat.” Dani helped her slip it off and then hung it on the brass rack near the door. “I’ll make you a cappuccino from our new machine.”
    “A what?”
    “It’s a special coffee. Come on and sit down.”
    “Wait a moment.” She stepped to the big bay window and leaned forward. “There. Who is that young man?”
    Dani looked outside. “Where?”
    “There.” Clarice pointed in earnest.
    A tall man with his coat collar pulled up stepped into view across the street. Dani would recognize him anywhere.
    Hunter.
    “Oh, he just stepped into Calvin’s. Now I’ll have to wait to find out who he is.”
    Clarice Shadwell was one of the long-standing residents of Wyattsville. The woman knew everyone, and if she didn’t, she made it her business to find out.
    “You don’t have to wait,” Dani said. “That’s Denny’s nephew.”
    “What? Why . . .” Her beady eyes narrowed with suspicion. “How do you know?”
    “He came in the shop last night.”
    “Then Fay already knows.” Clarice looked out the window again. “Poor boy. Lost his uncle and all. The man loved that boy something fierce.”
    If Dani knew how to read people, she’d say the feeling was mutual. The grief she saw in Hunter’s eyes made her want to put her arms around him and take away his sorrow.
    “I