A Christmas Miracle

‘They were just teenagers. Anyone would have done the same.’

Sadly, Reid knew that wasn’t true. Over a decade in the military had taught him that most people did nothing. But not this woman. This woman had taken on three people—guys—in defence of his grandfather. He took a moment to look a little closer at his grandfather’s guardian ninja.

She wasn’t exactly big and strong. There were fine lines around her eyes and on her forehead and he thought she might be about thirty. She didn’t look tough, especially not with a mouth that could have been perfectly at home on a catwalk model.

She looked...tired.

But he’d definitely picked up on an inner resilience. The kind that people in war zones displayed. And he knew enough about the world to know that war zones came in many guises.

What kind of war zone had made her so tough? Crappy childhood? Dangerous relationship? He slid his gaze to her left hand. No ring. Not even a white line or indentation where one might have been.

Not that lack of tan line meant anything necessarily.

But he had a feeling in his gut about her. Something told him her resilience had come from bitter experience. And Reid always went with his gut.

‘Reid,’ he said, reaching out his hand.

She eyed it warily before slipping her hand into his. ‘Trinity.’ She shook briefly—firm and sure—before quickly withdrawing.

‘And you’re Oscar, right?’ Reid said, turning his attention to the kid.

Oscar nodded and held out his hand for a shake. Reid smiled but obliged, shaking the kid’s hand. Also firm and sure considering he looked as if a puff of wind would blow him over.

He glanced at the woman. ‘Well, Trinity, it seems I am in your debt.’

Her eyes, tawny brown with flecks of amber, widened as she drew Oscar closer. Most women he knew would have flirted with him over that but she looked as if she wanted to bolt.

‘No, of course not,’ she dismissed, her gaze darting towards the car again. ‘It’s fine.’

Reid frowned. ‘Be that as it may, how about I take you guys out to lunch as a thank you?’ He checked his watch. ‘What d’you reckon, Pops? You hungry?’

‘I could eat a bear,’ he said. He made claws with his hands and gave a little roar for Oscar’s benefit. Oscar giggled.

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘Really. I don’t need to be thanked. C’mon, Oscar.’ She reached for his hand again. ‘Say goodbye to Eddie.’

‘Oh, but I want to go with Eddie and eat a bear.’

The kid looked as if he could do with a bear-sized meal. So did she. ‘Sorry, we really must be going. We have plenty to do today.’

Oscar’s eyebrows practically hit his hairline; he was clearly surprised at the announcement of such a full day. Reid suspected that was because there wasn’t one. But the kid didn’t push, just sighed and shuffled over to Pops.

‘See ya later, alligator,’ he said, his voice chirpy despite the resigned slump to his shoulders.

Pops stuck out his hand and they shook. ‘In a while, crocodile.’

She said a quick goodbye too, ignoring Reid as she bundled her son into his safety seat in the back of the car. It was possibly the oldest car Reid had seen in a long time—about thirty years if his guess was right. Back in the days when cars were heavy and solid and not made to crumple. The paint job was faded and peeling around the edges and there were several small dings in the panelling where rust had invaded like cancer.

He’d noticed it parked here yesterday afternoon as he and Pops had gone for some fish and chips at Bondi. It had still been here on their way back last night. And as he’d left this morning.

It was rare to see bomby old cars in this street. Reid doubted there was a car in the entire neighbourhood that was more than three years old. He glanced inside as Trinity buckled Oscar in. The car was bulging with black garbage bags. On the back seat, in the foot wells and along the back dash. It was a similar situation in the front, the passenger seat and foot well crammed with plastic bags.

It looked as if everything they owned was in the car.

His scalp prickled some more. He was starting to get a very bad feeling about Trinity’s situation.

She backed out of the car and shut Oscar’s door. ‘Goodbye,’ she said, the cheerfulness forced as she smiled at Pops and flashed him a quick glance of acknowledgement before sliding into the driver’s seat and pulling the door closed. Her seat belt was on quicker than he could blink.

Reid almost laughed out loud. This was a first. Women didn’t usually object to spending time in his company. Not even the tats turned them off. In fact, these days, that usually drew them like a magnet.

But this chick couldn’t get away from him fast enough.

Before she had a chance to escape, he knocked on her window. She shot him an impatient look but rolled the window down. ‘If there’s ever anything I can do for you.’ He handed over his card. ‘Please don’t hesitate.’

She took it to be polite but Reid had no doubt she’d toss it the first chance she got. He’d known her for fifteen minutes but he already knew that. She reminded him of some of the village women he’d met in Afghanistan. All he’d been able to see of them were their eyes but they’d told him plenty about their relief and resentment.

‘Thank you,’ she said and rolled the window up.

She jammed the key in and turned it. The engine didn’t roar to life. In fact the only sound coming from the front of the car was a click. Her knuckles whitened around the steering wheel as she turned the key again. And again. And again.

Click. Click. Click.

She undid her belt and Reid took a step back as she opened the door. ‘It does this sometimes,’ she said, her face tight as she reached down and pulled a lever before exiting the car. ‘It’s a battery thing.’

It sounded like a starter motor to Reid. He’d tinkered with enough engines in his life—cars, motorbikes and military vehicles—to know the sound of a dead one. Although if the battery connection was dodgy then that was possible too.

She walked to the bonnet and slid her fingers under the lip, lifting the heavy metal lid. Her biceps tensed beneath the weight of it as she secured it in place. Reid joined her. The engine looked as old as the exterior. None of the clean, sleek functionality of a modern engine. Just a greasy, blackened chunk of metal with years of built-up grime and neglect.

His arm brushed hers as he peered into the mess. He didn’t miss her sideways step as she tightened all the battery terminals.

‘That should do it,’ she announced as she unlatched the bonnet and clicked it shut, giving him a wide berth as she all but sprinted into the car.

Reid stood on the footpath next to his grandfather as she tried again.

Click.

Click. Click. Click.

‘Sounds like the starter motor,’ Pops said.

Reid smiled to himself. His grandfather was getting more and more forgetful but, a car enthusiast from way back, those memories were still fresh and vivid. ‘Yes.’

He strode over to the car. Trinity, gripping the wheel, appeared to be praying for it to work. He knocked on the window. It was a few seconds before she acknowledged him with a straight-out glare. But she rolled the window down anyway.

‘Sounds like the starter motor.’

She blew out her breath, staring at the bonnet through the windscreen. ‘The starter motor.’ The lines on her forehead furrowed a little deeper.

Reid crouched by the car door, searching for the right thing to say. A wild animal was always at its most dangerous when it was cornered. And that was how Trinity seemed at the moment—wild.

‘I’ve got a mate who’s a mechanic. He’ll fix it pronto.’

She seemed to contemplate that for a few seconds. ‘Do you know how much it would cost?’

Reid shrugged. ‘A few hundred dollars.’

She looked away but not before he saw the quick flash of dismay in her gaze. Her knuckles went so white around the wheel he was worried they were going to burst through her skin. He knew in that moment Trinity was just barely keeping her shit together.

‘I can pay for it.’

‘No.’ She shook her head vehemently.

Reid put his hands up in a placating manner. ‘Just hear me out. I said that I owed you and I meant it. Let me do this for you. As a thank you. I can arrange it right away and give you a lift home.’ He flicked a glance to Oscar sitting quietly in the back seat as if he was used to such breakdowns. ‘What do you reckon, little dude?’

‘We don’t have a home.’

Reid blinked at the matter-of-fact revelation as Trinity admonished her son with a quick, ‘Oscar!’

He glanced at the interior of the car, packed to the rafters with bulging black garbage bags. He’d suspected as much...

‘Ignore him,’ she said, her laughter so brittle he was surprised it didn’t shatter into pieces around her. ‘Kids say the damnedest things.’ Her gaze was overly bright, the smile plastered to her face so big it looked painful.

Reid didn’t know why fate had landed Trinity and her son in his lap today. But he was standing at a crossroads. He could take her assurances at face value and walk away. Or he could step in. As she’d done for Pops earlier.

Reid was a big believer in fate. His faith in any kind of God had been destroyed a long time ago but he’d seen too many incidences of people being in the right or wrong places at the right or wrong time to dismiss the mystical forces of predetermination. Trinity and Oscar had crossed his path for a reason and if he could help them in some way, he would.

Part of his job was advocating for homeless veterans—why wouldn’t he afford these two the same courtesy?

‘I’m going to call my mechanic friend. He’s going to come and pick your car up. Then you and Oscar are going to come to my house where we can talk a bit more.’

‘Oh, no, we’re not,’ she said, the plastered smile disappearing, a determined jut to her chin.

‘Trinity...’ He didn’t know why she was looking a gift horse in the mouth. He supposed a woman in her situation was wary about who to trust. ‘You can trust me. I live just down the road. In this street. The big white house that you can just see from here.’ He pointed at it and she glanced in its direction. ‘It’s my grandfather’s house, I live with him. Don’t I, Pops?’

Eddie nodded. ‘He’s a good ’un. Looks after his old grandad, real fine.’

She glanced from Reid to Eddie and back to Reid. He changed tack. ‘Look...to be honest, you’d be doing me a favour. I have to go back to work for two more hours and I won’t be able to organise someone to be with Pops at such short notice. I know you’ve already gone above and beyond and I know I don’t have any right to ask but if you and Oscar could hang with him until I get back it would be a load off my mind.’

She glanced at Eddie and her face softened a little, her chin lost its defiant jut. Bingo.

‘He’s completely independent,’ Reid said, pressing his advantage, although the thought that the dementia might progress until that was no longer true churned in his gut. ‘You don’t need to do anything with him. He just loves company.’ He flicked his gaze to Oscar, smiling at him. ‘What you say, little dude? Want to come back to my house and hang out with Eddie for a bit? We have a cat.’

‘Oh, yes.’ Oscar clapped, bouncing in his chair. ‘Mummy, can we, please? Please? Pleeease?’

She shot him a withering look. ‘Are you kidding me?’ she murmured, her incredulous gaze calling him out on his blatant manipulation.

Yeah...that had been a bit of a low move. Not quite like offering candy to a baby but not far off. ‘Look. The car will probably be fixed by the time I get back from work and you can be on your way.’

Suddenly her shoulders slumped and he knew he’d won. It didn’t give him much pleasure, manipulating a woman who probably had few choices in life anyway. But he really wanted to help her if he could and he needed a way in.

She turned her head to face Oscar. ‘Of course, darling,’ she said. Her voice was chirpy and Oscar beamed as if he’d just found a million bucks, but as she turned to face him her eyes shot daggers right through his heart.

If looks could kill, he’d be dead for sure.

CHAPTER THREE

‘DO YOU LIKE CRICKET, young man?’

Oscar’s eyes grew to the size of saucers at the massive wall-mounted television screen. It had obviously been on when Eddie had wandered away from the house.

Cartoons and cricket were Oscar’s two favourite things in the world. Maybe because one of his earliest memories was the captain of the Australian cricket team visiting during one of his many hospitalisations. Oscar had wanted to play cricket ever since.

‘I love cricket,’ he said, voice full of reverence.

‘Well, come on, then,’ Eddie said, pointing to a big, comfy recliner chair. ‘Climb up. There’s still a couple of hours before they break for lunch.’ He eased himself down very gently into a more formal, higher chair.

Back in the familiarity of his surroundings, Eddie seemed perfectly compos mentis. He was pointing to the screen and reciting some stats to Oscar, who was nodding in fascination as if Eddie were some kind of guru.

A big old marmalade cat wandered into the room, tail flicking from side to side. It jumped up on the chair beside Oscar before collapsing regally across his skinny legs.

‘That’s Ginger,’ Eddie said.

Oscar patted the cat as if she were the most precious creature on earth. Ginger, obviously approving, purred like a motor. God. How was she ever going to prise Oscar away from this paradise? Cricket on a big-screen television and a marmalade cat?

She looked around her. It was paradise. She’d grown up with thin fibro walls and then thin air during her two years living rough on the streets. Reid’s house was like a freaking palace by comparison.

She was glad he wasn’t here. That he’d left for work as soon as he’d opened the door for them. She hadn’t been able to breathe properly since she’d clapped eyes on him so it was nice to re-oxygenate her brain.

To be able to think clearly.

The fact that her car was about to be towed and fixed, which would cost money she didn’t have, was uppermost but the surroundings were distracting as well. What would it be like to have grown up in a nice house with grandparents who loved you as much as Eddie clearly loved Reid?

Reid didn’t look as if he came from a well-to-do suburban background. If anything his badass biker/lumberjack look reminded her of a few guys she’d met while she was living rough.

But he was a doctor?

What the hell kind of doctor? She’d dealt with a lot of doctors these last five years—physicians, specialists, surgeons, intensive-care consultants—and by and large they were a conservative lot.

How had the medical establishment taken to Reid?

As much as Trinity was determined to stay put and not give into the urge to explore the house, the need to go to the toilet got the better of her after an hour and she followed Eddie’s directions to the downstairs bathroom.

She passed a huge kitchen and a formal lounge room as well as a bedroom, which looked as if it might be Eddie’s if the handrails she spied were any indication. The bathroom was at the end of the hallway and was bigger and whiter and cleaner than the room that Terrible Todd had demanded sex for.

Hell, if his room had been this big and clean she might just have considered it...

There was a huge shower complete with a rose as big as a dinner plate. It sure beat the crappy showers at the service station she and Oscar had used last night.

A hot wave of longing swept over her and Trinity grabbed the vanity as it threatened to overwhelm. This was too much. Just all too much. She should be grateful to have this opportunity to use these beautiful amenities and take a break from her life for a few hours but the pressure growing in her chest wouldn’t allow it. Things like this didn’t happen to her. She never caught a break.

And that panicked her more than anything.

She used the facilities and fled from the bathroom as quickly as her legs would carry her.

* * *

An hour later the cricket broke for lunch and Eddie said, ‘Who fancies a sandwich?’

‘Oh, I’ll get them,’ Trinity said, jumping to her feet. It was the least she could do. ‘You and Oscar stay here and watch all the analysis.’

Eddie’s kitchen was the kind she’d always fantasised about having. Large and open and airy, full of light from the massive bay window that jutted out from the sink. Pots of herbs sat on the ledge throwing a splash of green into the mix.

A massive central bench with a stone top dominated the space. It was beautifully smooth and Trinity ran the flat of her palm back and forth over it, hypnotised by its cool sensuality. A bowl of red apples decorated one end.

Underfoot, there were large white tiles, which carried through to the splash-back areas, where an occasional coloured tile broke up the uniformity. She could practically see her face in the sleek white overhead cupboards. Stainless-steel trim helped to break up the clinical feel.

All the appliances were stainless steel too and reeked of money and European innovation.

The fridge was a gleaming four-door with an ice and cold water dispenser on the outside and packed on the inside with an array of beautiful food. Trinity’s mouth watered and her stomach growled.

For the third time today she wanted to cry.

This was what Oscar needed. What she couldn’t give. A full fridge. Proper nutrition. She did the best she could with what she had and he’d always had a notoriously bird-like appetite, but maybe he’d be bigger and stronger if she could constantly tempt him with this kind of variety?

Trinity shut her eyes, squeezing back the tears. She would not cry. ‘It’s going to get better,’ she whispered.

Once Oscar started school.

‘Just hold on.’

She opened her eyes, tears now at bay, and grabbed things out of the fridge.

* * *

It was closer to three when Reid made it home and Trinity was as antsy as a cat on a hot tin roof. Oscar had already become firm friends with Eddie and Ginger and she was dreading dragging him away from it to spend another couple of nights in the car.

If it was fixed.

She was going to have to talk to Reid’s friend about some kind of payment plan for the repair. She hoped like hell he was open to it because she needed Monday’s payment to source some accommodation.

Trinity’s pulse spiked as she heard the front door open. She’d dozed off in the recliner with her son but she’d obviously been subconsciously tuned into the sound of a key in a lock. Oscar barely looked up from the screen despite being jostled as she practically levitated out of the chair.

She was fuzzy-headed from her nap. She never napped! She didn’t have the time for such luxuries. Her body, though, was eerily alert as she met him in the hall. On high alert, actually, as his black-leather-clad frame strode towards her and butterflies bloomed in her belly.

The man walked as if he owned the Earth. For a woman who’d spent most of her life trying not to be noticed, it was breathtaking. He was big and raw and...primal and she couldn’t drag her eyes off him.

‘Is it fixed?’ she blurted as he stopped to dump his keys and backpack on the hallstand.

‘And good afternoon to you too,’ he said, a wry smile playing on his mouth.

God, even that was primal. Full with a sensual twist that hinted at long, hot, sweaty nights and tangled sheets.

He shrugged out of his jacket and hung it on a wall hook. ‘Pops okay?’

Trinity’s mouth went dry as her gaze took in his chest. Not because of the way his plain black T-shirt stretched across his chest and shoulders or how snug it sat against a flat abdomen. No. Because of the intricate web of ink covering both arms.

Invisible fingers trailed across her belly and the pulse at her temple fibrillated wildly. It wasn’t from fear, although God knew it should be. Or even from the kind of revulsion she’d felt when Terrible Todd had caged her in against the storeroom wall with his tat-covered arms.

It was from...fascination. Between the thick waves of his golden hair pushed back carelessly from his forehead to his beard to the tattoos she just knew didn’t stop at his arms, she couldn’t look away from him.

It had been a long time since she’d felt attracted to a man and even then it hadn’t felt like this. Oscar’s father had been her first and an ill-conceived choice at that. She’d loved him stupidly, blindly—all the way to the streets. But she’d never felt this kind of pull.

This was biology. Chemistry. She knew it in her gut. She knew it a lot lower too...

‘He’s fine. Still watching cricket with Oscar,’ she said, forcing herself to focus on getting out of here, something even more vital now her attraction to Reid was a living, breathing beast. ‘Is it ready?’ she repeated.

‘Not yet.’ He brushed past her, heading for the kitchen. ‘I’m starving, what about you?’ He made a beeline for the fridge.

Trinity ignored the question as her brain grappled with his not yet. Where would they stay the night if they didn’t have the car and just how long would it take to fix? There was no choice now, she was going to have to ring Raylene and see if she could have the couch for the night. Reid had offered to drive them home; maybe he’d drop them at Raylene’s?

‘What do you mean, not yet?’

He dragged the bread and some sandwich fillers out of the fridge and placed them on the bench. He glanced at her, his hands resting flat on the bench top. ‘Gav has to source a starter motor for you from a wrecker’s yard. Believe it or not parts that old are hard to find.’

He said it with a twinkle in his eye and dry humour in his voice but it rankled. She pulled her phone out of her back pocket of her three-quarter-length capris. It was a basic model—no fancy apps or data downloads for frivolous things like Facebook and Instagram—just a standard, cheap, pre-paid package but, like her car, something she couldn’t do without.

Being contactable and able to make phone calls was essential for someone with a high-needs child. ‘If you could give me his number, I’d like to make arrangements about the bill.’

His gaze held hers for long moments before he said, ‘I’ve already covered it.’

Goose bumps pricked at Trinity’s neck as her hackles rose. ‘I said no.’ She kept her voice low but even she was impressed with the degree of menace she managed to inject.

He shrugged. ‘It’s done. Now...’ He turned back to the fridge. ‘Would you like some wine? There’s a nice bottle of Pinot Grigio in here.’

She blinked at his back. Was he freaking kidding?

‘No,’ she said, testily. ‘I don’t want a goddamn glass of wine.’

‘You’re right,’ he said, completely undeterred. ‘I much prefer beer.’ He grabbed two bottles and set them down on the counter with a light tink. He twisted both the tops before she could stop him and sent one sailing in her direction with a deft push.

She wasn’t much of a beer drinker—not at three in the afternoon, that was for sure—but she caught it automatically.

Keeping her temper in check, she tried again. ‘I don’t want you paying my bills.’ He opened his mouth to object but she waved him quiet. ‘I know you feel like you have to thank me somehow but you really don’t. My bills, my responsibility.’

He tipped his head back and took three long swallows of his beer. Her gaze was drawn to the demarcation line between where his beard ended and his throat began. The thick brown and blond bristles of his close-cropped beard hugged the underside of his jaw line before meeting the smooth, bare column of his throat.

Trinity watched it undulate as he swallowed and leaned heavily against the counter as things south of her belly button went a little weak. There was just something so damn masculine about a big, thirsty-looking man drinking beer.

‘Look, Trinity,’ he said as he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. ‘Let’s cut to the chase.’ He reached for the loaf of bread and pulled out four slices. ‘I’m paying your bill because frankly I don’t think you have two brass razoos to rub together and, if I’m not very much mistaken, you need that rusty old car asap because you’re homeless.’