Hunk for the Holidays (21 page)

The thought made him even colder than he was.

What if she’d gotten in an accident? The roads weren’t that slick yet, but it was possible. Just the thought of Cassandra being hurt—or worse—had him pressing the buzzer even harder. It was a relief when Matthew’s voice came through the speaker. At least he’d found someone who might be able to alleviate his fears.

“Patrick, you dick,” Matthew yelled. “I told you I’m not going to run in this kind of friggin’ weather. So leave me the hell alone.”

James leaned closer and pushed the button to the intercom. “Hey, Matthew, it’s James Sutton.”

There was a long pause before Matthew answered. “Real funny, Paddy.”

“I’m not joking, Matthew. It’s James. I played pool with you yesterday.”

“No shit?”

James might’ve laughed if he hadn’t been so worried. “No shit.”

The garage door rumbled open. James stepped into the garage and brushed off his shoulders and hair. By the time he got the snow stomped off his boots, the door opened and a tousled Matthew stuck his head out.

“Come on up, man.” He disappeared, forcing James to follow him.

Matthew’s condo had the same floor plan as Cassandra’s and Patrick’s, but a completely different decor. While Cassandra’s living room felt feminine and Patrick’s like a bar with its pool table and dartboard, Matthew’s was a bachelor pad with a huge leather couch that was more bed than sofa. Although he was as messy as his sister. Pizza boxes and empty beer bottles were everywhere.

“Listen, I don’t want to keep you,” James said, “but I was wondering if you knew where Cassie was. She was supposed to meet me here.”

Matthew stumbled into the kitchen and waved James along. James walked over to the breakfast bar and watched as Matthew yawned and stretched before he opened the refrigerator. He stood there for a couple minutes, scratching his bare chest before deciding on a bottle of Sunny Delight. Screwing off the lid, he guzzled down what was left before turning to James. He wiped off his mouth with the back of one hand. “So your last name is Sutton, huh?”

James was so worried about Cassandra, he hadn’t even realized he’d given Matthew his last name. Of course, it didn’t matter. Matthew had never struck him as the type who paid much attention to business. His next words proved James wrong.

“James Sutton of Sutton Construction.” Matthew tossed the empty bottle of juice at the overfilled trash can. It bounced off the empty twelve-pack carton and rolled across the floor.

James had wanted to tell Cassandra the truth first, but he figured it was too late for that. So he nodded. “The same.”

A smile spread across Matthew’s face, quickly followed by hysterical, side-clutching laughter.

“Look, Matt,” James said, “do you know where Cassie is or not?”

Matthew held up a hand. “That’s—” He tried to take a deep breath, but ended up wheezing and doubling over.

James had lived through college. He knew how alcohol,
women, and lack of sleep could leave you a little crazed, but he didn’t have time for this. Not when something serious could’ve happened to Cassandra. He turned to leave, but Matthew finally sobered enough to speak.

“Hold on, man.” He straightened and wiped at his eyes. “I’m sorry to laugh, but you have to admit that it’s pretty funny.”

“What is?”

“You being James Sutton, dude.” He walked over to the leather couch and flopped down. “I can’t believe that Cassie just waltzed enemy number uno in right under our noses. Damn.” He laughed and shook his head. “I didn’t think daddy’s little girl had it in her.” He paused, and his eyes narrowed in thought. “Wait a minute—she doesn’t know, does she?”

“What do you mean enemy number one?” James moved around the couch.

“You screwed the pooch this time, Sutton,” Matthew said. “If you think Patrick is scary when he loses his temper, it’s nothing compared to Cassie when she loses hers. My dad even gets the hell out of the way.”

James flipped some magazines off the couch and sat down on the edge. “Cassie thinks I’m her enemy?”

“Not just Cassie, but the entire McPherson family.” He reached over and thumped James on the shoulder. “Except for me. I like you, dude. You’re a big improvement over Mike. And I think it’s pretty funny that you spent an entire night with us and nobody had a clue.” He flopped his bare feet up on the coffee table, knocking over an empty beer bottle in the process. He stretched his arms over his head, hooking his hands behind his neck. “Which
is too bad, because I think you’re pretty much history. If there’s one thing McPhersons hate more than some new construction company trying to put them out of business, it’s a liar.”

“Put them out of business?” James couldn’t believe his ears. “Who’s trying to put them out of business?”

Matthew released his hands and allowed his feet to fall to the floor. “The evil Sutton Construction Company that happens to be run by the evil James Sutton.”

James jumped to his feet. “That’s bullshit! I have no intention of putting M & M out of business even if I could. The only thing I’m guilty of is underbidding you.”

“Hey”—Matthew held up his hands—“you’re preachin’ to the choir, man. I’m not the one who you need to explain things to.”

Matthew was right. There was only one person he wanted to talk to.

“Where is she, Matt?” he asked.

The grin disappeared, and the determined McPherson look came over his boyish features. “Patrick thinks you care about her. Do you?”

There were so many emotions going through James at the moment, it was hard to wade through them. He was pissed and disappointed that Cassandra had judged him without even meeting him. Frustrated and anxious that she had stood him up. But mostly, he was terrified that Matthew was right and she would never forgive him.

James took a deep breath and released it. “Yes, I care about her.”

Matthew rolled to his feet. “Okay then. Give me a minute, and you can follow me over to my parents’ house.”

James held up a hand. “That won’t be necessary. All I need are directions.”

On his way up the stairs, Matthew stopped and turned around with a wide grin. “And miss all the fireworks? Not on your life.”

Chapter Eighteen

Delany said her mom thinks it’s weird that you dust our Christmas tree.”

Amy froze with Swiffer in hand and looked down at Gabby, who was sitting on the floor shaking a present she’d just pulled out from under the six-foot artificial tree. “You told Delany that I dust the Christmas tree?”

“Books,” Gabby said before she placed the present back and lifted another one. “I didn’t tell her. Her mom walked by and saw you.”

Amy glanced out the big picture window. If her daughter hadn’t been there, she might’ve gone over and closed the blinds before she continued dusting. “Well, I don’t see anything wrong with it,” she tried to defend herself. “Lights and ornaments get dusty too.” She flicked the Swiffer over a Hallmark ornament of Snoopy and Woodstock.

“It’s okay, Mom,” Gabby said. “Everyone is different. You clean when you are PMSing and Delany’s mom has a glass of wine.”

Amy stopped dusting. “PMSing?”

“Yeah, that’s what Delany’s mom calls it when she’s grumpy. Delany and I think it stands for Pretty Mom Stressing since both of our moms are pretty.” She squeezed the package. “Socks. I figure you’re upset because you broke up with Derek.”

It would make sense. Most women would be devastated after ending a two-year relationship. But the truth was that Amy felt more relieved than upset after breaking it off with Derek. No, her “PMSing” had nothing to do with Derek and everything to do with a handsome redhead.

Gabby grabbed another package and shook it. “Game.”

“Would you stop that?” Amy swatted at her with the Swiffer. “Don’t you want to be surprised tomorrow morning?”

“I’m looking for the one I want to open tonight.” Gabby set the package away from the others. “I choose this one. We can play it after we get back from the McPhersons.”

Amy set the Swiffer down on the coffee table. “About that, Gabby. I was thinking that maybe we would stay home tonight. We could pop some popcorn and watch
How the Grinch Stole Christmas
.” She smiled. “And even play your new game.”

Gabby stared at her as if she’d just killed a puppy. “You don’t want to go to the McPhersons’? But when Mrs. McPherson called to make sure we were coming, she said we were going to make sugar cookies and Patrick and
Mattie were going to help the kids make the biggest snowman ever. Besides, don’t you want to see Uncle Rory?”

Rory.

Just the name had Amy reaching for the Swiffer. No, she didn’t want to see Rory. Not when her emotions were a jumbled mess. With just a few words, Rory had turned her nice, orderly life upside down. And she wasn’t exactly happy about it. After all the snide comments and mean glares, where did he get off telling her that he cared about her? Where were his sweet words five years ago when she was drooling over him at the water cooler? Why hadn’t he explained how he felt then, instead of running off to Chicago and marrying Tess? And why after his speech at the toy store had he walked off and not called her once?

Amy knew that the only way to still the cacophony of questions was to talk with Rory. She just couldn’t do it in a house filled with loud, partying McPhersons. She looked at Gabby’s disappointed face. Nor could she deny her daughter a family Christmas filled with sugar cookies and snowman-making.

“Okay.” She leaned down and ruffled her daughter’s hair. “Go get on your snow boots while I see what I can whip up in the kitchen to take.”

“Yippee!” Gabby bounced up off the floor and headed for her bedroom while Amy headed to the kitchen.

Fortunately, she had the makings for a relish tray leftover from the one she’d made for the Christmas office luncheon. She had just pulled a jar of green olives out of the refrigerator when she heard a car door slam. Closing the refrigerator, she moved over to the window and looked
out. Patrick’s black truck was parked in the driveway, but it wasn’t Patrick who was pulling down the tailgate. The jar of olives slipped from Amy’s fingers and landed on the floor with a crash, showering shards of glass all over her knee-high boots.

But she wasn’t as upset by Rory being at her house as much as she was by what he was pulling out of the back of the truck. The mess on the kitchen floor was forgotten as she headed for the front door.

By the time she got outside, Rory was already setting the small dirt bike down in the driveway.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Amy said as she stomped across the snow-covered lawn.

Rory glanced up, and even with the frigid temperatures, she could feel the hot sizzle of his gaze as it swept over her. “I could ask you the same thing.” He leaned the motorcycle on its kickstand and pulled off his down jacket. In no more than three strides, he had it wrapped around her shoulders. “Are you crazy, woman? It’s freezing out here.”

She tried to push the coat off, but he snapped it under her chin. Still, it didn’t stop her from pointing a finger at the motorcycle. “Do not tell me that is for who I think it’s for.”

He flashed a grin. “Okay. I won’t tell you.”

“Oh, no.” She shook her head. “That is much too dangerous a vehicle for a seven—”

“Holy smokes!”

Amy’s words were cut off by her daughter, who came flying out of the house with jacket flapping. “Is that for me, Uncle Rory? Is that mine?” She raced over to the bike
and had no trouble swinging a leg over it. “Can we start it up? Can I ride it over to Delany’s and show her what I got? Man, she’s not going to believe it. Her parents are getting her a dumb battery-operated one.”

Amy shot Rory a look that she hoped was filled with as many shards of glass as her kitchen floor. “Could I speak to you for a second in private?” she ground out through her teeth. She looked over at Gabby and issued a stern warning. “You can sit on it, but that’s it. Do not start it up or move it an inch out of this driveway, young lady.”

Completely consumed with the motorcycle, Gabby nodded. “No duh, Mom. I don’t even have the key.”

With anger boiling, Amy swirled and headed back inside. Of course, she headed straight to the kitchen. She had always done her best yelling while cleaning. She jerked off Rory’s coat and threw it at him before she took the trash can out from under the sink, then knelt down and started picking up the glass.

“She’s not keeping it. And if you think I’m going to tell her and break her heart, you can think again. You’re the one who was stupid enough to bring over the gift without asking me, so you’re the one who will have to figure out how to break the news.”

“So you’re not marrying Derek?”

Amy’s gaze snapped up, and her heart skipped a beat. Even as mad as she was, she couldn’t help but notice how handsome Rory looked in jeans and a green sweater that matched his eyes. He had one shoulder propped against the doorjamb, his jacket tucked beneath his arm, and a look on his face that took her breath away. She returned her attention to the mess on the floor.

“No, but that’s not what we’re talking about. We’re talking about a motorcycle that is much too dangerous for a seven-year-old.”