Harlequin Special Edition November 2014 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Weaver Christmas Gift\The Soldier's Holiday Homecoming\Santa's Playbook (15 page)

“But he saved the violin,” she murmured.

His wide shoulders rose and fell as he nodded. She'd heard him play just that one time. But she could only imagine how tiny the obviously cherished instrument must have looked in his big hands.

She slowly lifted her hand and tentatively brushed her fingers through his hair.

He sighed again, his head falling forward to rest against her stomach.

Her throat went tight. “How long have you had it?”

“Since I was in second grade.” He sighed again, slid his hands upward and lightly slapped her butt, breaking the spell as he sat back once more. “Squire'll nail me to a tree.”

Her hand fell to her side. “I think you're nailing yourself,” she murmured, “with no help needed from your grandfather at all. Every single day when you saw it sitting there broken.”

He didn't deny it. “You've got some pool games to get started.”

She wanted to protest, feeling as if something important was just out of her grasp.

But he was right.

So she leaned over him to grab a fresh marker from one of the drawers in her desk and felt his hand slide over her back, light as a whisper. She straightened, and that light touch fell away almost as if it had never been. She stared into his silvery eyes. “Casey—”

“You like cheesecake?”

She blinked, thoroughly off balance. “I... What?”

“My grandma Gloria, she makes a hell of a cheesecake.”

Gloria being Squire's wife. The woman he'd married, so the stories went, decades after losing his beloved Sarah.

“You shouldn't miss it,” he went on. “She's bringing it to the tree lighting. So, you know...maybe you should come with me. So you can have a piece.”

Her heart squeezed. She could feel a smile tug at her lips. “Are you asking me out on a date, Casey?”

He grimaced, but the delight curling inside her had too strong a foothold to be denied. “I'm just saying if you want some cheesecake, I can make sure you get some. You don't know my family, sport. They're vultures when it comes to good food.”

“Okay.”

He waited a beat, almost as if her quick response had surprised him. But then he nodded once, sitting up a little straighter. “Okay.” He rolled the chair back a few inches and stood abruptly. “Just, uh, head on over to the park when you're finished here.” He edged past her through the doorway.

Again, she was afraid something was slipping through her fingers. “You're going to hang around for the rest of the tournament, aren't you?” she asked quickly.

He didn't look particularly enthusiastic, but he nodded. “Yeah. I'll be around.”

“If I were a betting woman, I'd say your dad's got a lock on winning,” she added, wanting more than anything to see a smile come back into his eyes.

The corner of his lips did tilt, but that was the extent of it. His silvery eyes were still solemn. Haunted. “Looking that way,” he agreed. “He's even better at poker, though I'll deny it if you tell him I said so.”

She smiled as he'd meant her to. “I've gotten away with holding a few pool tournaments. Don't think I could get poker in under the law's radar.”

“That's why everyone plays their games in private.” His gaze dropped to her lips and she felt warm, but a loud cheer from out in the bar centered her.

She tightened her fingers around the marker she'd all but forgotten and briskly pushed her hand against his shoulder so she could leave the office. “That noise out there proves there's no privacy around here today, so it's a good thing there are only billiards on the schedule.”

He reached the storeroom door before her and gave her a look as he pulled it open for her. “Definitely a good thing,” he murmured.

Feeling the warmth turn into a hot blush, she looked away and hurried past him out into the bar where the scoreboard was still waiting for her. Feeling as though every eye in the place must surely be watching her—and knowing how ridiculous a notion that was—she diligently tended to her business and tried not to be too distracted when Casey joined the knot of family members clustered at one side of the room.

And she tried not to wish, too hard, for the rest of the day to pass quickly so she could move on to the tree lighting already. To his grandmother's cheesecake.

To him.

Chapter Fourteen

T
he only thing missing was snow.

Jane stopped herself from running across the street into the park and instead approached at a calm pace, which, she realized, just gave her more time to admire the dozens of Christmas trees arranged around the pavilion. With the sun setting behind it, the place would have been the quintessential winter wonderland if not for the fact that the first snowfall of the season had yet to fall.

Not that the lack of snow meant it wasn't cold.

It was. And as she tugged the collar of her wool coat closer around her neck and tamped down the nervous excitement curling around inside her belly, her shaky breath sent vapor circles around her head.

A band was playing “Jingle Bell Rock” with more enthusiasm than skill as she made her way into the thick of people who'd already arrived. She could have gotten there earlier. She'd closed up Colbys a few hours after crowning Daniel Clay the tournament winner, sending everyone home so they'd have a chance to attend the town's celebration if they chose. But after closing, instead of heading across to the park like Merilee and the others, she'd gone home. Taken a proper shower. Worked some order into her long hair and some cosmetics onto her face and dabbed perfume onto her pulse points. She'd dressed in her best black jeans and a red cashmere sweater. Buttoned the bright gold buttons running down the front of her new black wool coat, which hugged her torso before swirling out around her thighs.

Whether or not Casey considered it a date, everything inside Jane
did
.

And now, clutching the disposable pan filled with thick slices of Jerry's popular meat loaf against her midriff, she was torn between turning tail and running away like a coward or racing pell-mell forward until she found Casey in the crowd.

In the end, she did neither. She carried the container of meat loaf over to the buffet tables that were being manned by volunteers from the tree-lighting committee. “Hope this isn't too late,” she offered as she eyed the dishes already there.

“Food's never too late,” Pam Rasmussen assured her brightly. Ordinarily, she was a dispatcher over at the sheriff's office, but tonight she was wearing her mantle as chairperson of the committee. She took the pan and deftly found a space for it between a platter of fried chicken and three pots of steaming chili. “Heard you had a great turnout for the tournament, despite the brouhaha between Arlo and Casey.”

“I did.” She tried not to be too obvious looking for Casey because Pam was one of the biggest gossips in town, but Jane realized she was missing the mark when the other woman's grin widened.

“The Clays are all over there in front of the playground equipment,” Pam said, pointing. “Right under one of the park lights. Think Casey's been waiting for you to eat,” she added, and handed over two sturdy paper plates. “He's the only one of that whole crew who hasn't come through for some supper.”

Jane didn't bother denying Pam's implications; she simply took the plates. “The park looks beautiful, Pam. Looks like half the town must have turned out tonight.”

The other woman beamed. “The only thing we're missing is snow. We've always had snow before now.”

Jane couldn't help but chuckle. “I was thinking the same thing just a few minutes ago.”

“It won't matter once we turn on the tree lights,” Pam continued, sighing happily. “It's my favorite time of year.” She waved her hands. “Go on now and enjoy yourself.”

“Thanks.” Plates in hand, Jane turned from the tables and aimed in the direction Pam had indicated. She would have found the Clays despite the help; as usual, they were one of the largest groups there. And one of the rowdiest.

As she neared, she saw Casey's father standing in the center of them, holding up his tournament trophy in one hand while he held a little boy bundled in an orange parka propped on his other shoulder. It was plain for all to see which one he treasured more.

She couldn't help smiling at the sight and when Casey spotted her and came over, she nodded toward his dad. “If you ever decide you do want children, you won't have to worry about them lacking in love,” she said lightly in greeting. “Guess you know that, though.”

He seemed to sigh a little. “Yeah. I know that.” He watched his dad for a moment as the man flipped the tot head over heels off his shoulder and set him on the ground to peals of the child's laughter. The boy immediately begged for more. “That's Early. Angel and Brody's boy. He's four,” Casey explained.

She noticed then his other sister, dark-haired and somewhat exotic in comparison to J.D.'s heartland-and-wholesome blondness. Angel was watching her father and son with an indulgent expression. Despite the touchy topic of children where Casey was concerned, Jane couldn't seem to help herself. “Is his name really Early?”

“Nah. He's named Daniel, after my dad. But he was—”

“Early?”

“Not dangerously, like J.D.'s Tuck was. But Early already had the nickname.”

“Well.” Watching the boy was a treat. “He's darling. He looks like his mother.”

The corners of Casey's lips kicked up slightly as he watched his nephew. “Yeah. He'll do.”

Deciding to get away from the subject while the getting was good, Jane separated the paper plates and tapped him on the arm with the back of one. “A little bird told me you hadn't eaten yet.” And she could see by the plates spread out over the three picnic tables taken up by Casey's extended family that if it was true, he was alone in that regard. “Not that I noticed a particular lack of food, but I brought a whole tray of Jerry's meat loaf, if you're interested.”

He turned his gaze back to her and the intensity in his eyes sent all of her caution alarms ringing. Particularly when a curtain seemed to come down, and in a blink, he had his usual slightly wry expression. “Figured I'd be polite and wait,” he said. “Didn't think I'd be waiting
this
long.” He leaned down a few inches. “You smell like your own soap again instead of mine. All this effort for me, sport?”

She cursed her mushy knees and stiffened them, raising one eyebrow. “Never realized your sniffer was so finely tuned. But while you were obviously withering away during the, oh, forty-five minutes or so it took me to get here, I hope you managed to remember to save me some of your grandmother's cheesecake. That
is
what drew me here, after all.”

His lips twitched and he cupped her elbow. His hands were bare. No concession to the cold temperature for him. And she could have sworn she could feel the heat of his touch through her wool coat.

She dismissed the silly notion. She was supposed to be a grown woman, not a teenager prone to such flights of fancy.

“Sure it wasn't my charming company?”

She gave him a look and his twitching lips stretched into a grin. His hold on her elbow tightened a little as he started walking. But instead of heading in the direction of the buffet tables, he steered her closer to the picnic tables crowded with his various family members. “Come say hello first.”

Of course, she'd met all of them at one time or another. Was quite friendly with many of them. They frequented Colbys, and she'd served on a few volunteer committees more than once with several of his cousins. And until she'd hired Merilee and changed her own night off to Thursday to accommodate the other woman's schedule, Jane had taken weekly yoga classes with even more of them. But she still felt a jolt of nerves almost as if she were meeting them for the first time.

It was ridiculous. Annoying. Downright embarrassing, actually. “I saw most of them a few hours ago when your father won the tournament,” she reminded him.

“Yup. And you feel as stiff as a poker all of a sudden. Why is that?” His grin turned goading. “You're not nervous for some reason, are you?”

She tsked dismissively but because he was right, she moved forward even more quickly, taking the initiative herself as she aimed for his parents first, pinning a bright smile on her face as she plowed into the fray, greeting them as if her presence among the Clays were a perfectly ordinary thing.

But Daniel's mother, Maggie, ruined the whole thing by hopping to her feet and giving Jane an enthusiastic hug. “We're
so
glad you're joining us,” she said as she squeezed. She was slender, about Jane's height, and her pale blond hair was nearly hidden by the cheerful red knit cap she wore. “I wasn't sure Casey would ever let the two of you out into the light.”

Jane's face went hot and she stammered for a reply.

Maggie just laughed and squeezed her again playfully. “Don't be embarrassed, honey. We're just delighted you're here.” Keeping her arm around Jane's shoulder, she pulled her along the tables, stopping every other step to share some comment with these people who were so familiar to Jane yet weren't.

She felt herself breaking out into a sweat beneath her coat from all of the attention she was getting. And Casey was no help at all. He'd stopped next to his dad, ostensibly to admire the tournament trophy. She figured he was really only saving himself from all this kindly meant torment and sent him a look that said so.

He just grinned and left her to his mother's clutches.

It was his grandfather Mr. Clay who finally offered some relief. Squire and his wife were sitting in fancy-looking folding lawn chairs rather than on the picnic-table benches, which seemed to be the only concession to their ages they were making. When Maggie presented Jane, he rose to his feet and snatched the paper plate that she'd pretty much mangled. He held it up to study.

“Good grief, child, you're not going to be able to hold any food on that, much less a piece of my wife's cheesecake.” His eyes were pale blue and they glinted with sharp humor as he tossed the ruined plate aside and commandeered her elbow from his daughter-in-law. Clutching a walking stick in his other hand, he ambled with her toward the buffet tables. “Getting damn cold out here,” he groused as they walked. “Don't s'pose you smuggled over some hooch from Colbys, did ya?”

She chuckled. Despite the walking stick, the gray-haired man stood almost as straight and tall as his sons and grandsons. And she knew from experience that he had a soft spot for a good Scotch whiskey. “Sorry.” She tried not thinking about his first wife's violin still sitting in her truck. “Alcohol's not permitted in the park, even on a cold winter's night.”

He grunted. “Seems the town council's getting mighty uptight these days 'bout that and every other little thing.” He pounded the ground with the bottom of his walking stick once for emphasis. “Half the adults here have prob'ly got a flask hidden in their pocket, spikin' their hot cocoa, which is what any smart person would do on a cold night like tonight. Got a good mind to get myself elected and whip those tight-asses into shape.”

She grinned. Squire Clay was one of the backbones of Weaver. “Have you ever served on the council before?”

“Hell no,” he said. “But I got a tad more time on my hands the older I get. Still think I could show them a thing or two.”

“I can't think of anyone better,” she assured him. The old man didn't mince words, play games or suffer fools. “You decide to run in the next election, I'll be the first one to offer a campaign contribution.”

His laugh was almost silent, decidedly wicked and eerily like that of a particular grandson of his.

They'd reached the buffet table, where he handed her a fresh paper plate as if it were his wife's best china. “Now go fill it up, girl,” he ordered. “Figure you need the fuel to keep up with Casey. That boy usually looks like he's moving slower 'n a snail when he's really running circles round us all.”

“Stop bad-mouthing me, old man.” Casey stopped next to them and dumped a ladle of overcooked green beans on her plate. “You're only doing it so you look better in Janie's eyes.” His voice was tart but his fondness still rang through. “He's a flirt, sport, so stay on your toes.”

Squire cackled. “Seems to me, you could've done a better job of flirtin' with this little filly. She wouldn't have needed to waste her time on Arlo if you hadn't been falling down on the job. His daddy was a milquetoast, and so's he.” Squire slanted her a look. “No offense, honey. Arlo's a decent-enough fella, I s'pose, but I always figured you needed someone with more spirit.”

“Decent,” Casey snorted.

“I'm sure you never gave that any thought at all,” Jane interrupted drily as she sidled out from between the two of them. “I'm hungry, so I'm going to leave you both to your debate.” Before they could stop her, she hustled to the next table over. She grabbed a fried chicken leg and a slab of meat loaf, added a roll and a packet of butter and topped things off with a steaming cup of black coffee.

Pretending to ignore Casey, who'd quickly fallen in line behind her, she sipped the coffee and studied the turnout as if she were looking for an open seat, when the truth of the matter was that she felt too shy to head back to his family's tables on her own.

She spotted Sam, who was wearing her uniform under her coat, keeping an eye on the cluster of kids romping around the pavilion. There was no sign of Hayley and her grandmother, though Jane wasn't particularly surprised. When Hayley had brought Jane's change of clothes the morning before, she'd said her grandmother was reluctant to attend the outdoor celebration.

“Stop pretending you're not here with me,” Casey said behind her, and nudged her toward his family's tables. “Everyone already knows otherwise.”

“This just feels strange,” she admitted.

“Being together? Out in the open?” His expression was deliberately wry. “I'm not the world's best catch, but you're damn hard on a man's ego, sport.”

She made a face. Because he
was
the best catch. He always had been and she just hadn't wanted to admit it. “You were perfectly fine hiding in the shadows,” she reminded him.