Harlequin Special Edition November 2014 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Weaver Christmas Gift\The Soldier's Holiday Homecoming\Santa's Playbook (11 page)

Not that Vivian seemed to see anything amiss. Nor did Hayley or Sam, it seemed.

Maybe she was the only one to recognize the way the lines arrowing out from his eyes were deeper, the way the set of his lips was thinner. Grimmer.

He'd entered along with his grandparents, Squire and Gloria Clay, and a bunch of other relatives. Everyone headed en masse toward several tables on the other side of the room.

Everyone except Casey.

He was headed her way.

“That's Casey Clay,” she heard Hayley tell Vivian as he approached. “He's Jane's beau, though they both deny it.”

Jane sent her friend a look that Hayley ignored.

“Good heavens, not the
young
one,” Vivian said impatiently. “The white-haired one. With the steely face and the walking stick.”

“You mean Mr. Clay? Squire Clay,” Sam provided. “The Clays own one of the largest cattle operations in the state. The Double-C. He's married, too,” she added humorously.

Jane was barely listening to their exchange. She pushed out of her chair and muttered an excuse that she needed the restroom before Casey reached their table.

Then, feeling like the biggest coward on the planet, she hustled her butt in the opposite direction.

But she felt him on her heels even before she pushed through the double swinging doors that led from the gymnasium, and as soon as she was in the mercifully empty corridor on the other side, she halted, rounding on him. “What do you want?”

He stopped short, too, his eyes narrowing. “Why'd you run?”

If he could ignore her question, she could ignore his. “Guess your trip didn't take as long as you expected. You look like you haven't slept since you left in the first place. What were you doing, anyway? Taking care of some vitally important Cee-Vid disaster at one of the other sites?”

His lips tightened. “You sell booze and food. I'm pretty sure that means you're not against entertainment. So what do you have against Cee-Vid? People get a lot of entertainment from the games they produce.”

“
They
produce.” She crossed her arms.

“What?”

“They produce,” she repeated. “They, they, they! Shouldn't you be saying
we
? You spend all of your time devoted to that company, but you don't even claim a bit of ownership over what Cee-Vid does.”

He stared at her as if she'd lost her mind.

Which she was fairly certain she had done a year ago, when they'd kissed the first time.

“What the hell are you going on about?”

She yanked on the collar of her turtleneck, which had been perfectly comfortable before he'd arrived but now seemed to be strangling her. She'd never expected him to be at the Harvest Festival, or she would have begged off when Hayley and Sam suggested going. “I don't know,” she snapped. “You're making me crazy.”

“Well, that makes us even,” he returned, not sounding any happier about the situation. He pulled a folded envelope out of his back pocket and handed it to her.

She took it cautiously, thinking too easily about the note he'd left her in Denver. The note she still hadn't thrown away. “What's this?”

“Registration for your pool tournament.”

Of course. There was no accounting for the disappointment that settled like a stone inside her stomach. It wasn't as if she expected anything else from him. She unfolded the envelope and looked inside, seeing the registration form and his personal check. “Personal delivery wasn't necessary, you know.”

“I didn't have a postage stamp,” he said flatly. “If you didn't insist on living in the dark ages, you'd have it so people could register online. I could have set it all up for you in five minutes.”

“I like tradition,” she returned. “Remember?”

“Speaking of. Where's Arlo?”

“He's coming later,” she lied. She had no idea what Arlo's plans were, though she had no intention of telling Casey that. Even though Arlo had been as bored with the uptight picnic she'd accompanied him to as she had been, they hadn't gone out again since.

His lips tightened. “It's going well, then. This ‘get a husband, get a baby' plan of yours.”

Her chest ached. “Let's just say I'm not taking my birth control pills anymore.” She wanted to rescind the words the second they escaped, but they were already out there. Seeming to echo around the tiled corridor.

A curtain came down in his gray eyes, making them more unreadable than ever, and the silence between them tightened unbearably, broken only by a sudden burst of laughter from the other side of the swinging doors.

“I guess congratulations are in order,” he said then. His tanned face looked unnaturally pale. “What're you sending out first? The wedding invitations or the birth announcements?”

She swallowed. Her mouth felt arid and she rocked uncomfortably on her heels. “Neither. Yet,” she hedged, wondering when she'd become such a liar. Wondering if the trait had lurked inside her all of her life, or if it had bloomed only as a result of protecting herself against what she couldn't have.

Him.

“But I'm...hopeful.” Which was the biggest lie of all.

Because where she and Casey Clay were concerned, there was no hope.

In her head, she'd known it all along and it was long past time she convinced her heart of it, too.

Chapter Eleven

“M
erilee, have you seen the list of the table monitors?”

Her assistant manager was setting up on the sidewalk outside Colbys where the pool tournament entrants would begin checking in later that day. She squinted against the cold December sunlight as she looked at Jane. “Last I saw, it was on the desk in your office.” In one hand, she held a bundle of artificial garland, and in the other, a large plastic bag filled with round Christmas-tree ornaments. “Do you want me to hang more of this stuff, or get started on the tree decorations?”

Jane had hired a group from the high school to hang the deep green garland that festooned the front of her building, and Merilee had already strung smaller additional strands in the windows, around the doors and from the registration table. Similar holiday decor graced nearly every building up and down Main. The park across the street on the corner had set up dozens and dozens of Christmas trees in anticipation of the community tree lighting the following day and everything around town was spit-shined and bright in preparation.

She realized Merilee was still waiting for an answer. “Get started on the trees,” she said as she pulled open the door to go inside. “Let me know if you run out of bulbs. I bought extra.”

She'd rearranged everything in the bar to accommodate some of the additional pool tables she'd brought in to handle the load of the tournament. Since it still hadn't snowed yet, she'd decided to use the parking lot between Colbys and the dance studio for the rest of the tables. The extra tables were set up beneath a tent and cordoned off from the street by a row of narrow Douglas firs that would soon be decked out with Merilee's ornaments.

Jane had more than a hundred players coming in for the tournament that would start that afternoon and, for the first time ever, would spill over to the next day. She'd promised Weaver's overly cautious council that she would be finished well before the town's Advent season officially kicked off with the tree-lighting celebration, and she wanted everything to go well. If it didn't, she figured there'd be pressure from the council to drop ideas of a repeat next year.

She had no intention of letting that happen, though. She'd planned too hard and too long. Her storeroom shelves were fully stocked. Both the grill and the bar had an extra contingent of servers scheduled to be on hand. Everything was set and ready to go. Not only would the winners of the tournament go home with their pocketbooks loaded, the charities in Weaver would benefit, and Colbys would rake in a huge profit on increased food and drink sales.

It was a win-win situation all the way around.

But she'd never felt less like celebrating.

She found the list of table monitors she'd been looking for right where Merilee said it was.

In Jane's office. On her desk.

Sitting in plain sight, where she ought to have seen it if she'd only been able to concentrate.

Disgusted with herself, she sat down at her desk in front of the fancy new computer she'd purchased. It possessed every bell and whistle that Casey had ever insisted she needed.

She'd hired a guy from the store in Gillette where she'd purchased it to come and set it up for her. Unfortunately, the thing was so different from her old computer that aside from turning it on, she hardly knew how to operate it.

Sighing, she focused on the volunteer list. She'd had Olive make reminder calls to everyone on it regarding their time slots. She knew from experience that there were always a few people who'd back out for various reasons, but there had been only one. She carried the list out to the huge corkboard she'd placed against one wall and pinned it there for everyone to see. It would be a simple double-elimination tournament played as much for fun and bragging rights as anything else, and as the games progressed, she'd update the oversize bracket she'd printed out that was fixed high on the wall above the corkboard.

Everything was set.

All they needed now was for the participants to show up. Play would begin at noon and they could start checking in ninety minutes before that.

Which still gave Jane an hour.

An hour when she didn't have enough busywork to keep her mind consumed.

She wandered into the grill but as soon as she showed her face in the kitchen, Jerry pointed his spatula at the door. “Out. Don't mess with me today,” he warned. His tone was good-natured enough, but his eyes said he wasn't joking. “Don't need you telling me how to do things I been doing since you were in diapers.”

She lifted her hands in a placating gesture. “I'm not here to tell you how to do your job,” she insisted.

He harrumphed and expertly flipped the eggs he was frying. “Then whatcha doing in my kitchen?”

It was her kitchen, actually. She owned it, after all. But pointing that out would likely make her cook quit on what she expected would be one of her busiest weekends of the year.

“Just wanted to see your smiling face, Jer. Make sure you have everything you need for this weekend.”

“You saying I don't know how to plan for a big crowd?”

She tossed up her hands, giving up. “Keep your apron on, all right? I'm leaving your sacred space.” She backed out through the swinging doors.

About a third of the tables in the restaurant were occupied, mostly by unfamiliar faces.

Townies almost always went to Ruby's. And even though the café was her competition, she could hardly blame them. Not when it came to breakfast.

But for lunch? She was in a dead heat with Ruby's. And dinner was a no-brainer since the other restaurant closed after lunch and didn't even offer it.

There wasn't a single thing she could do in the bar to ready it more than it already was, so she pulled on her jacket and went back outside. Merilee was busy hanging red-and-white Christmas balls on the trees and Jane went to help.

Before long, they had dolled up the half-dozen trees. Soon after, the first of the players started arriving, so Jane went over to get them checked in while Merilee made sure the outdoor heaters were keeping the area beneath the tent comfortable.

The first players were quickly followed by more, and before long, Jane was neck-deep in checking people in, taking registration money from those who still owed it and handing out copies of the rules.

It was only a matter of time before one member or another of the Clay family showed up.

She was just glad that it wasn't Casey who did so first. She hadn't seen him since that afternoon at the Harvest Festival.

Five weeks ago. He hadn't been to Colbys once in five weeks. Not to play pool with his family, though they'd made regular appearances. Not to eat in the restaurant.

She knew he hadn't been out of town again either, because she'd seen his familiar black pickup more than once on the street.

The message was clear. She'd told him they were done, and despite their missteps along the way, ever since the Harvest Festival, he'd obviously decided he agreed.

Now, after she'd told herself day in and day out that it was all for the best, the idea of being face-to-face with him again had her in knots.

She checked in his cousin Sarah, who was married to the sheriff and taught over at the elementary school. She checked in his sister J.D. She checked in Erik. And Axel. More cousins. Even his father, Daniel, who looked so much like a future version of Casey that it was painful.

Along with the portable heaters in the parking lot, they'd also rigged up speakers from the bar's jukebox. They'd turn the volume down some as soon as the tournament started, but for now, country music blared, alternating with Christmas carols. To this accompaniment, for ninety minutes she registered people she knew and people she didn't know. By noon she'd handed out almost every packet she'd prepared for the players and there was still no sign of him.

Were things so irrevocably ruined that he'd blow off the tournament?

She was ready to give up and head inside when she saw him. Striding down the street alongside Tristan, and her heart climbed right into her throat.

He stopped in front of the table. She handed him the packet.

And that was it.

He silently took the envelope without touching her fingers and went inside.

She swallowed hard, schooling her expression, and looked up at his uncle as she passed him the last envelope. Whether Casey had wanted her to or not, she
had
mailed Tristan Clay a thank-you note weeks ago for the use of his plane when Althea died. But there was another matter that she had never addressed. “I was sorry to hear about the two employees you lost a few months ago,” she said now.

The tall man's vivid blue gaze settled on her face, making her feel oddly uncomfortable. As if she'd treaded in waters she shouldn't have.

“Casey told me,” she added quickly. “Not, uh, not what happened. An accident, I assume, but—”

“Thank you,” Tristan cut off her awkward words. He didn't smile exactly, but something in his eyes softened. “Casey's taking what happened pretty hard.”

Her discomfort rose to new heights, since she had no idea at all what had happened. She just knew he was right; the effect of the accident on Casey had been severe.

“Anyway, I wanted to tell you I was sorry.” She had no more registrants coming, so she hopped to her feet and yanked open the door for him, anxious to go inside, where it was warmer.

“Thanks.” He started to go in but hesitated. “Are you going to be tied up here all weekend?”

“Until the winners are decided.” She pinned on a smile. “On which note I should wish you good luck at the tables. Seems like half the players are relatives of yours. I'm glad none of you minds some healthy competition with each other, or I'd only have half the players that I do.”

He smiled faintly. “
Healthy
might be overstating it. But judging by the crowd you've got, I think we'd need another generation of kids before there'd be enough of us to make up half.”

Her insides squeezed, but she kept her smile in place.

“We'll all be over at the park for the tree lighting tomorrow evening. Come and join us if you can. My brother Matt insists it's finally going to snow and he's almost always right when it comes to snow.”

It was a casual invitation. Surely nothing more than what he would extend to anyone. But her gaze still flicked past him, searching out Casey. The pool tables were numbered for the tournament. She'd assigned the players to each one herself. It was easy to find him. She started to shake her head. “That's nice of you, but I—”

“Don't give up on him,” Tristan interrupted quietly.

Her mouth went a little dry. He obviously knew about loaning them his own company plane. But beyond that? Did he know only what the rest of the town thought they knew about her and Casey?

Did he know that a person couldn't give up on something that never existed in the first place?

“I—” She broke off and cleared the constriction from her throat with a soft cough. “It's complicated.”

The older man's lips twitched. “It always is.” He touched her elbow lightly as he passed. “Say you'll think about it at least.”

Despite knowing it was the last thing she should do, she nodded. “I'll think about it.”

“Good girl.” He actually gave her a wink, so quick she wasn't sure she hadn't imagined it, and headed into the crowd packed inside the bar, hailing people along the way.

She watched his progress for a moment, then couldn't keep from looking Casey's way.

He was looking at her.

But as soon as their gazes collided, he turned his back.

She inhaled slowly, then forced herself to go inside.

Casey or no Casey, she had a pool tournament to run.

* * *

Casey lost his first game, much to the hoots and hollers of his supposedly loyal family.

Worse, he lost to a high school kid who was still wet behind his ears.

He shook the kid's hand and left the table, pool cue metaphorically tucked between his legs as he headed to the corner of the bar where some of his family was clustered. “Yeah, yeah. No comments from the peanut gallery,” he said when he joined them.

“Didn't look like your mind was where it needed to be, son.” His father, Daniel, was at a high-top table with Casey's uncles and their father, Squire. He was nursing a longneck beer and looking gleeful. Probably because his name was already ahead of Casey's on the brackets, since he'd won
his
first time out.

In fact, when Casey looked over at the big chart that Jane was constantly updating as the tournament progressed, he could see that all of the Clays who'd played so far had won their games.

“Might've helped if you'd been studying the table and not that pretty girl's rear view,” Squire added.

Despite himself, Casey looked toward Jane.

In honor of the season she had on snug white jeans and a red turtleneck that clung to every curve she possessed.

He wasn't the only one who'd been noticing her.

Every time she climbed up on her ladder to write in the latest results on the brackets, some fool—like him—managed to blow his shot. One guy at the table next to him had even jumped the cue ball right over the side rail.

“Though she does have a real pretty...er...view,” Squire added, watching Jane climb up the short ladder. She had a notepad in her hand that she consulted before she uncapped her thick black marker and added another line of perfectly printed letters to the chart.

There was just something unnatural about a person who printed so neatly. It was freakish in comparison to his own scrawl.

He dragged his gaze away from the way her butt filled out her jeans and propped his cue stick against his dad's table. “Gonna go see how Erik and Ax are doing,” he muttered.

They were somewhere outside at the pool tables under the tent. Casey wished he were, too. Merilee was keeping track of the scores outside, and she wouldn't have posed a distraction to him at all.