Rescued by his Christmas Angel Read Online Free Page A

show.”
    The crayon fell out of Ace’s fingers. “I’m going shopping with Mrs. McGuire? Me? ” Her brown eyes got huge. She gave a little squeal of delight, got up and did a little dance around the kitchen, hugging herself. He doubted a million-dollar lottery winner could have outdone her show of exuberance.
    Okay, he admitted wryly, so he had overestimated the appeal of the car show by quite a bit.
    Nate felt a little smile tickle his own lips at his daughter’s delight, and then chastised himself for the fact there had not been nearly enough moments like this since his wife had died. Slippery roads. A single vehicle accident on Christmas Eve, Cindy had succumbed to her horrific injuries on Christmas day. There was no one to blame.
    No one to direct the helpless rage at.
    Ace stopped dancing abruptly. Her face clouded and her shoulders caved in. It was like watching the air go out of a balloon, buoyancy dissolving into soggy, limp latex.
    â€œNo,” Ace said, her voice brave, her chin quivering. “I’m not going to go shopping with Mrs. McGuire. I can’t.”
    â€œHuh? Why?”
    â€œBecause Saturday is our day. Yours and mine, Daddy. Always. And forever.”
    â€œWell, just this once it would be okay—”
    â€œNo,” she said firmly. “I’m not leaving you alone.”
    â€œI’ll be okay, Ace. I can go to the car show by myself.”
    â€œNope,” she said, and then furiously insisted, “it’s our day.” She tried to smile, but wavered, and after struggling valiantly for a few seconds to hide the true costof her sacrifice, she burst into tears and ran and locked herself in the bathroom.
    â€œCome on, Ace,” he said, knocking softly on the bathroom door. “We can have our day tomorrow. I’ll take you over to Aunt Molly’s and you can ride Happy.”
    Happy was a chunky Shetland pony, born and bred in hell. Her Aunt Molly had given the pony to Ace for Christmas last year, a stroke of genius that had provided some distraction from the bitter memories of the day. Ace loved the evil dwarf equine completely.
    But Happy was not providing the necessary distraction today. There was no answer from the other side of the bathroom door. Except sobbing. Nate realized it was truly serious when even the pony promise didn’t work.
    Nate knew what he had to do, though it probably spoke volumes to his character just how reluctant he was to do it.
    â€œMaybe,” he said slowly, hoping some miracle—furnace exploding, earthquake—could save him from finishing this sentence, “since it’s our day, I could tag along on your shopping trip with Miss McGuire.”
    No explosion. No earthquake. The desperate suggestion of a cornered man was uttered without intervention from a universe he already suspected was not exactly on his side.
    Silence. And then the door opened a crack. Ace regarded him with those big moist brown eyes. Tears were beaded on her lashes, and her cheeks were wet.
    â€œWould you, Daddy?” she whispered.
    The truth was he would rather be staked out on an anthill covered in maple syrup than go shopping with Ace and her startlingly delectable teacher.
    But he sucked it up and did what had to be done, wishing the little snip who was so quick to send the notes criticizing his parenting could see him manning up now.
    â€œSure,” he said, his voice deliberately casual. “I’ll go, too.” Feeling like a man who had escaped certain torture, only to be recaptured, Nate slipped the envelope of shopping cash he had prepared for the teacher into his own pocket.
    â€œAre you sure, Daddy?” Ace looked faintly skeptical. She knew how he hated shopping.
    Enough to steal overalls to try and save him, he reminded himself. “I don’t want to miss our day, either,” he assured her.
    Inwardly, he was plotting. This could be quick. A trip down to Canterbury’s