Kisses From Heaven Read Free

of the two men, opening the door, blowing away yet another wisp of auburn hair from her face. Her features were flushed, her eyes silvery gray. There was stubbornness in the lift of her chin. No matter how desperately she needed the giant’s help, she felt wary. This character was a simple Good Samaritan the way she was a linebacker for the Detroit Lions.
    Behind her, in the two minutes it took to reach the van, Gramps was trying to tell his life story. Hurriedly, she unlocked the side of the van and swung both doors open. She waited, unconsciously lifting one foot after the other, in the slushy parking lot. It was wickedly freezing; a bitter gust of wind strained at her coat, slashing it open to reveal the powder-blue wool skirt hugging the curve of her thighs. The man who called himself Buck glanced briefly at her, then he was busy settling her grandfather in the back of the van. Gramps was still talking.
    “Buck just said he’d come to dinner, Loren. Knows all about the horses, he does, the sulkies… A good man, don’t think I can’t tell. Exactly the kind of man you nee—”
    “Yes, Gramps. ” Oh, Lord! she thought.
    “I like him, Loren. Got stranded here without a car, he did. We’ll help him out. Buck, you take care of my Loren, now…”
    Buck—or whatever his name was—finally came out of the van as Gramps was dropping off again. He turned to her, apparently waiting. Surely, he hadn’t taken any of the conversation seriously. What was he waiting for?
    “Thank you. I really appreciate your help.” He was still waiting. She tried to laugh. “Of course you must have a car,” she informed him.
    Something flickered in his eyes, an expression of humor that quickly turned grim again. “Is your grandfather likely to be ill on you?” But he didn’t wait for the answer. “Actually, I do seem to be stranded here for the moment. Why don’t we just get your grandfather home? I’ll take care of myself from there.”
    “Well…” She didn’t believe him. That man had never been stranded, but still she found herself wavering. There were times when it was no joke getting her grandfather home and into the house. She sighed unhappily. A very bad decision was probably in the making, but he was there. “Perhaps if you would just ride home with us in case he… I would pay you,” Loren said swiftly, “and I’ll also give you the taxi fare back to…wherever it is you’re going.”
    Another fleeting expression of amusement crossed his face. “I think I can manage…without your having to pay me anything.”
    “It would only be fair,” she insisted. What exactly was he finding so funny? She changed her mind completely about asking him a second and a half later. The van wasn’t particularly fancy, but there was a couch in back and carpet up to the two front seats. Ample room—at least until the huge stranger came up to sit next to her after closing the doors. He took up an incredible amount of space. His long legs barely had stretch room, and the crown of his rusty head almost touched the ceiling. She started the engine with misgivings. She must have been temporarily insane to accept this man’s unexpected offer of help with Gramps. “Listen,” she started firmly.
    “He reminds me of someone. My aunt Emma,” the man mused as he turned down his coat collar and relaxed, his eyes staring straight ahead. “I used to dread her Saturday afternoon teas. Prim and proper as England she was, until tea time. By the time she was through putting medicine in her cup, she could swear like a soldier and snore like a dragon. Just on Saturdays, mind you.”
    Unwillingly, Loren found herself almost smiling. So this hulking stranger had a little empathy and a lot more perception than most people. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who had this sort of problem.
    “Now Aunt Emma was straight-laced Boston to the core. Only on Saturdays did she suddenly get a French accent,” the man continued gravely.
    Loren did smile then,