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One of Sophie’s favorite Christmas carols came on and she attempted to let the song ease her mounting nerves at just standing in the large, open area of the firehall where the men were gathered. Surely, thoughts of Santa being up on the housetop would calm her jitteriness.

But it wasn’t working. Because Cole was now Santa in her head. A Santa in desperate need of a good seamstress, which she just so happened to be.

Sucking in a deep breath, which triggered a grin from Andrew who still stood next to her, Sophie ditched him to walk over to where Ben had returned to decorating the tree. “How’s LaTonya doing?”

Ben smiled at the mention of his twin. “Living the lawyer high life in Louisville as she fights for justice for all.” Visibly proud, Ben told of his latest phone conversation with his sister.

Sophie tried to keep her attention on him, but her mind kept straying to Cole. Maybe Ben wouldn’t notice how many times she said Mm-hmm and Oh, really?

When Cole came back into the festively decorated firehall, he glanced around at the others who were watching them intently, then frowned. “We can go outside. It’s not private, but it’s better than being the main event in here for these jokers.”

“Yes. Going outside sounds like a great idea.”

Maybe she would be able to breathe better outdoors.

Sophie waved goodbye to Ben and Andrew, then smiled at Cole, grateful that she’d be able to give him the journal privately so he could tuck it away if he didn’t want the others to see.

His coworkers might already know about his time in the military, but if not, he should be the one to decide who knew about the things he’d gone through. No one else.

Which made her feel a smidge guilty at having read his journal in the first place, but there had been no name. She’d only meant to read enough to try to figure out whose diary it was, but once she’d started, the pages had beckoned to her with a call she hadn’t been able to resist.

Even after reading it completely, she’d still not found a name. All she’d known was that the author was a male Marine who’d seen and endured too much, just as her father had. Not having a name or a face to assign to the journal meant that the connection between the two men had blurred.

For a week, the intense journal had haunted her. Nightly, she’d picked it up to reread passages that had left her chilled and aching for the man who’d written the heart-wrenching words. Who was he? Where was he? Had he pieced his life back together or…or had the darkness overtaken him as it had her father?

Only when she’d found the Christmas card tucked into a crossword puzzle book that had also been in the donated box had she realized the writer’s identity. Discovering that the quiet, stoic man she’d briefly met at Ruby Jenkin’s Fourth of July party was the wounded warrior monopolizing her every waking thought had been a surprise.

Apparently, Cole was full of surprises. She certainly wouldn’t have expected to find the man whose journal she’d read wearing a Santa suit and teasing his coworkers.

Maybe she should have insisted that he keep wearing the suit. Talking to Santa Cole had to be easier than talking to Gorgeous Fireman with a Tormented Past Cole.

Her stomach was a fluttery tangle of nerves.

She shouldn’t be nervous at all. Her palms shouldn’t be clammy. Her heart shouldn’t be racing. She snuck a glance toward Cole and gulped.

He made her feel giddy and feminine and a whole lot nervous. He’d had that effect on her even before she’d read his journal, and now that she’d read it, she wanted to help him.

Needed to help him.

Not that he looked as if he needed help. Now that he was out of his Santa suit, he looked tough, handsome—a bit dangerous, even, as if he could take on the world and win.

He wore the standard black uniform pants and a polo shirt with the firehall emblem over his heart and short sleeves that accentuated his muscles. His dark brown hair was cut in a no-nonsense short style. His eyes—a Siberian Husky pale blue with a darker, deep blue rim—flashed with intelligence, curiosity, and annoyance.

On the outside, Cole was a good-looking, well-put-together firefighter who had probably started more than a few fires in the hearts of Pine Hill’s female population. Hadn’t she noticed him at the picnic and every time their paths had crossed since?

But now, Sophie knew the heartache his handsome exterior hid.

Catching her not-so-sneaky peek in his direction, Cole’s brow rose. “Did I misunderstand you a minute ago? Are you here to pick something up from me rather than give something back? I told the lady on the phone I’d drop the money for the poinsettias by the nursing home. Did they need the check right away?”

Poinsettias? He was the one who had donated the money to buy the poinsettias for the nursing home residents? She’d heard someone had, but—

Sophie half-tripped over her own feet and almost face-planted on the concrete firehall floor. She steadied herself in time that she didn’t think he noticed her lapse as they stepped outside into the sunshine. Or if he did notice, he didn’t let on.

A soft mid-November breeze blew, tickling her face with her hair.

“I’m not here about the poinsettias or money,” she began, tucking the stray strands behind her ears in hopes of keeping them at bay. “And you didn’t misunderstand me. I found something that belongs to you, and I’m here to return it.”

She reached into her bag and pulled out his journal that had the Christmas card tucked inside it.