Read A Yorkshire Christmas for Free Online

before,” he explained tersely, and even that was just the tip of the iceberg of his sad and tired history. He closed his eyes briefly, then snapped them open and with his jaw tight, he began to lob the food into the bag.
    *
    Claire covertly watched Noah as she helped him bag the groceries, wondering just what the history between him and his ex was. She had no right to ask or even wonder, and she shouldn’t even want to. Good Lord, if Noah Bradford having a daughter wasn’t the biggest red flag that had ever been waved in front of her.
    Look, a man with a daughter, a man you’re attracted to, who would make a good husband, is a good father. Here’s your happily-ever-after, Claire, all neatly packaged and tied with a bow. Go for it.
    No, she would not be drinking that Kool-Aid again. Not in a million years. And in any case, they’d known each other for about five minutes. She was ridiculous to be thinking of anything with Noah Bradford, even in the negative. He was a helpful stranger, nothing more.
    Noah paid for his groceries, his expression grim, and they walked out in silence back to the Land Rover. Claire thought she could piece enough of the story together from Noah’s phone call; his ex had asked him to take care of their daughter unexpectedly, for Christmas. His terse words echoed through her mind. ‘It’s Christmas, Dani. It’s an important holiday. Of course she can stay with me.’
    Noah Bradford cared about his daughter, even if he’d said he didn’t see her all that much.
    Noah loaded all their bags into the back of the Land Rover, and Claire climbed into the passenger seat. It was all so weirdly, cozily domestic. And yet not.
    She glanced around the car, noticing the travel cup that had the dregs of what looked like very old coffee still in it, as well as something called malt loaf with its packaging torn open and then wrapped haphazardly back up, stuffed next to the travel cup. Maps, boots, gloves, and a coil of rope littered the backseat. She heard the back slam and then Noah climbed in next to her, smelling cold and clean, his expression still grim and tense as he glanced at the clock on the dash.
    “Are you in a hurry?” she asked, knowing that he was, and he gave a brief nod.
    “My daughter’s being dropped off in about an hour.” Claire thought of the mess of his kitchen, and couldn’t quite keep from wincing. Noah noticed and let out a laugh that managed to sound both wry and despairing. “I know. I’m not exactly ready.”
    “I could help you,” Claire said, the words out of her mouth before they’d truly formed in her head. No, Claire. You don’t want to do that. You can’t want to do that.
    And yet, helplessly, she did.
    Noah slid her a wary glance, as if trying to assess the sincerity of her offer. “You don’t have to do that,” he said gruffly, and Claire told herself to accept the rebuff, to shrug and say something meaningless, but instead more words came, words she hadn’t meant to say, to mean.
    “I don’t mind. You’ve certainly helped me out today. And frankly, I think you need it. Your kitchen was a complete mess.”
    He let another laugh, this one sounding genuine. “Thanks for the honesty.”
    “My pleasure.”
    He didn’t reply, and Claire waited, willing herself not to beg. Say yes. Want me. Need me.
    She turned towards the window, hating that she’d fallen into her old pattern less than twenty-four or even twelve hours of getting off the plane. Did desperate men with daughters look for her?
    No, you just have a homing instinct for them.
    “Well, if you don’t mind,” Noah finally said, his gaze straight ahead on the snowy road. He sounded reluctant, like he didn’t want to need her help, but knew he really did.
    And ruthlessly, resolutely, Claire popped the entirely inappropriate bubble of excitement and happiness that rose inside her at the thought.
    Fine, you can clean his kitchen, repay the debt, and then you can go home and never see Noah Bradford