Unwrapped (25 page)

Amy's eyes widened. “Luke?”

“In the flesh.” He tipped the hat he'd put back on.

“But what are you doing here?”

“Some old woman called and invited me. Of course, with my work and all, I had to turn her down.” His gaze moved over to Barkley. “But then this guy showed up at my trailer and told me he would break my fingers if I didn't get on a plane with him.” He shrugged. “So here I am.”

“An old woman?” Rory's eyes turned to Wheezie, and everyone else followed suit.

Since there was no way out of it, Wheezie said the only thing she could. “Does anyone else need a shot of scotch?”

P
atrick had never been much on Christmas Eve parties. Crowds, even crowds of family, had always made him feel closed in. So he was more than content to stay in the kitchen with Jacqueline as she hustled around pulling hors d'oeuvres from the oven and filling trays. When cooking at home, she liked to wear one of his old flannel shirts, no makeup, and her hair clipped up in a mass of curls. But tonight she had dressed for the occasion and wore off-white pants and a fuzzy blue sweater that turned her eyes an even deeper shade of blue. She'd artfully applied makeup and fixed her hair to fall around her shoulders in soft auburn waves. With the diamond studs in her ears and the designer heels on her feet, she would've fit into any high-society gathering. And yet here she was in his great-aunt's kitchen working harder than one of those television chefs in a cooking competition. Patrick couldn't have been prouder, or happier, that she belonged to him.

It was a male chauvinistic thought. One his sister Cassie would've socked him for if she'd been there and could've read his mind. But he couldn't help it. Since the pool table sex, he'd taken possession of his new bride. As far as he was concerned, Jacqueline did belong to him. And he had started to wonder if he didn't also belong to her. For the last week, he certainly hadn't been himself.

Work was no longer the center of his life. He had no urge to get a beer with his buddies after work. Or invite his brothers over for a game of pool. In fact he was thinking about selling the pool table he'd stored in the Trujillos' garage. What use did he have for the pool table now? An image of Jacqueline stretched out naked on the green felt had him reevaluating. Okay, so maybe he wouldn't sell it. Maybe what he needed was a bigger house. One that had a basement for his pool table and a couple of spare rooms for kids.

Kids. Yes, he wanted more than one. Maybe not as many as his parents or Cassie, but three seemed like a good number. A couple of boys and one cute little Irish/Scottish lass with red ringlets exactly like her mother's.

He slipped off the barstool and took the cookie sheet away from Jacqueline and set it on the stove. “You've done enough work for the night. In fact I think we should go home and have a nice, quiet Christmas Eve by the fire.” He pulled her into his arms. “Naked.”

She encircled his neck and beamed up at him. “That sounds wonderful. But I think you're forgetting a few things. Like picking up Bailey from the airport and midnight mass. Your aunt would be terribly disappointed if we didn't attend with her.”

“She would live. And I thought Gerald was picking up Bailey.”

Jacqueline smiled. “He's changed his mind. It seems he's found the love of his life. Although I'm not so sure Barkley reciprocates the feelings.”

“Barkley? My aunt's chauffeur? I don't think he's—”

“Excuse me.”

Patrick turned to see a short, bald-headed man standing in the kitchen doorway. Since his aunt Wheezie had a thing for bald guys, Patrick figured he was her newest boyfriend. He was about to introduce himself when Jacqueline stiffened in his arms.

“Mr. Darby?” she breathed.

The name had Patrick's gaze narrowing as the man spoke.

“Forgive me for intruding on your holiday, Ms. Maguire,” Mr. Darby said in a hesitant voice. “But I'm afraid I couldn't put it off any longer.”

“Mrs. McPherson,” Patrick said as he released Jacqueline and stepped in front of her. “I'm her husband, Mr. McPherson. And what exactly can't you put off?”

Before Mr. Darby could do more than swallow, Gerald rushed into the room with a half-empty tray of pigs in a blanket and a wild look in his eyes. “I'm not sure, but I think there's going to be a fight out there. Your family members are getting pretty wound up.”

Since Patrick couldn't remember one Christmas Eve that hadn't ended in a fight—or at least a heated argument—he wasn't all that surprised. You couldn't get that many stubborn Scots in the same house without someone losing their temper. He was more concerned with what was going on in the kitchen.

“Where were you on Halloween night, Mr. Darby?” He took a step closer to the little man. “Because if you've ever done anything to harm my wife, I'm going to squash you like a bug.”

“Of course I haven't.” The little man looked appalled. “I would never harm your wife—or anyone. I'm only here to see if she would continue her aunt's tradition and be willing to donate money to my charitable organization. The sum her aunt gave every year went a long way to helping those in need.” He fidgeted. “And I'm afraid without it, many children and families will go without.”

“That's how you knew my aunt?” Jacqueline stepped around Patrick. “So you weren't trying to kill me?”

Mr. Darby's eyes widened. “Why would I want to kill you, Ms. Ma—McPherson?”

Jacqueline giggled. A giggle that quickly turned into an out-and-out laugh that had Patrick smiling. His smile faded when his brother's voice boomed from the other room.

“You did what, Aunt Wheezie?”

Patrick looked at Gerald. “Rory's here?”

He nodded. “I guess they cut their trip short to be with Gabby for Christmas. Except Gabby doesn't look real happy about her parents being back. Of course I think she's upset about having three dads.” He looked at Mr. Darby. “Although if you're Jacqueline's Mr. Darby than you can't be one of Gabby's dads.”

Completely confused, Patrick headed for the living room. When he arrived he discovered his entire clan of relatives circled around like a bunch of kids at a playground fistfight. He pushed through the crowd until he reached the people in the middle. Rory, Amy, Gabby, Wheezie, and a stranger in cowboy boots.

“What's going on?” he asked.

Everyone started talking at once. The only one not talking was Wheezie, which told Patrick everything he needed to know. Since he wasn't about to deal with the entire group, he took Wheezie by the arm and escorted her to the sun-room. As he'd predicted, the ones who were the most upset at his aunt followed. Rory, who looked more hurt than mad. And his wife Amy, who just looked pissed.

“How could you contact Gabby's father without asking me, Wheezie?” she said. “You had no business doing something like that.”

Instead of answering, Wheezie walked over to a cabinet and pulled down a bottle of scotch. Without even looking for a glass, she unscrewed the cap and took a big swig. She released a sigh before turning to Amy.

“You're right. It wasn't any of my business. And I apologize. I just thought it would be nice if Gabby got to meet—”

“It's not her fault.” Gabby came charging into the room. “I was the one who wanted to meet my biological dad.” She thumped her chest. “I was the one who talked Wheezie into calling him and inviting him here while you were in Durango.”

Amy stared at her daughter. “You? But why didn't you just tell us that you wanted to meet your father, Gabby? Why did you have to go behind our backs?”

Gabby's face fell. “Because I didn't want to hurt Dad's feelings.” She glanced over at Rory, and tears filled her eyes. “I didn't want you thinking that I didn't appreciate all that you've done for me, all the love you've given me over the years. I especially didn't want you thinking that I don't thank God every day that he gave me such a great dad like you.”

Some of the hurt left Rory's face, to be replaced with overwhelming love. “Oh, Gabs.” He walked over and pulled his daughter into his arms. “I know you love me. And I thank God every day that he gave me such a great kid for a daughter.” He pulled back. “Yes, it's hard to share. But I realize that you have a biological father, and it's only natural that you want to meet him. I just wish you had told me how you felt.”

“Me too.” Gabby looked at Wheezie. “And I'm sorry for putting you in the middle, Wheeze.” Her eyes crinkled in confusion. “But what I still can't figure out is who that man is that you were trying to pass off as my biological dad.”

Wheezie shrugged. “I guess I had a little bout of dementia. But we shouldn't let that ruin a good Christmas Eve party.” She waved everyone out the door. They all complied, except for Patrick, who just wasn't buying it.

“Dementia?”

Wheezie smiled. “It happens.” Carrying the bottle of scotch, she shuffled out the door.

By the time Patrick got back to the kitchen, Mr. Darby was gone and Jacqueline was refilling a cookie tray and humming “Have a Holly Jolly Christmas.” He felt a little jolly himself as he slipped his hands around her waist and kissed her neck.

“So do you want to explain what made you think that Mr. Darby was trying to kill you?” he asked between kisses.

“There's something you need to know about me.” She turned in his arms and looped her hands around his neck. “I watched a lot of television growing up, and it gave me a vivid imagination that sometimes gets the best of me. Something that happened with Mr. Darby.”

“Well, if we're sharing secrets, I guess you should know that I was the serious, logical kid who couldn't come up with a fictional story to save his soul.” He gave her a quick kiss on the tip of her nose. “So I think we're pretty well matched. You can be the one who dreams up the dragons, and I'll be the one to slay them.”

Her eyes turned dreamy. “I think that might work out quite well.” She gave him a kiss that had him mentally searching for a place in his aunt's house where he could get her alone. Unfortunately, before he could pull her into the pantry, Wheezie came in.

“Enough of the smooching.” She pulled Jacqueline away from him. “I want to introduce my new niece-in-law to the family.”

There was nothing for Patrick to do but follow them back to the party. A party that got wilder as the night went on. Aunt Hester and Aunt Mae got into it over who had brought the best fruitcake, and the argument ended with a taste test that got Aunt Hester's husband, Ray, in big trouble for choosing Aunt Mae's fruitcake over his wife's. Cousin Jen had too much spiked eggnog and announced that she'd had an affair with an encyclopedia salesman fifty years earlier. Since she'd been a widow for five years, no one seemed too upset by the news. Gabby's biological father turned out to be as big of a jerk as everyone had thought he was. After eating most of the cheesy tater tots, he made a pass at Amy, which resulted in Barkley physically removing him from the party and driving him back to his hotel.

By eleven o'clock Patrick was more than ready to leave for the airport. Unfortunately, he couldn't seem to locate his wife. He finally found her asleep in a spare bedroom amid a pile of coats. She clutched a down jacket to her chest like a teddy bear and a soft smile curved her lips. Since he couldn't bring himself to wake her, he covered her with a blanket. He figured he could make it to the airport and have Bailey back before Jacqueline woke up.

“I guess being pregnant makes you tired.”

He glanced up to see Gabby standing in the doorway. He figured that she had to be upset about the scene her biological father had made, but he didn't know what to say to make it better. So he kept the conversation light as he tucked the blanket around Jacqueline. “I guess so. Being a man, I don't have a clue.”

“Men are pretty clueless.” She moved into the room. “So do you love her?”

Leave it to a kid to cut to the chase. He started to deny it, but then he looked at Jacqueline sleeping so peacefully, and the truth just came out. “Yeah. I love her.”

“I'm glad,” Gabby said. “It will make things a lot easier for your kid.”

The sadness in her voice made Patrick realize that there was no way around a conversation about her father. Moving away from the bed, he chose his words carefully.

“I'm sorry about your dad, Gabs, but I've done some pretty stupid things when I've had too much to drink.”

“No. It wasn't Aunt Wheezie's eggnog. He's just a jerk.” She shrugged. “Something I figured out after five minutes of conversation. He wasn't interested in me at all. All he wanted to talk about was what a great football player he'd been in high school and how many girlfriends he had—as if I wanted to hear about that. And it doesn't really matter. When your dad doesn't contact you for sixteen years, you kinda figure that you're not going to be best buddies.”

“I don't think dads are supposed to be best buddies,” Patrick said. “Big Al and I aren't that close.”

Gabby looked surprised by the words. “Just because you don't always agree with Grandpa Al doesn't mean that you're not close, Uncle Paddy. In fact my dad says that Grandpa likes locking horns with you as much as you like locking horns with him.”

Damn, the kid was smart. He smiled and walked over to ruffle her hair. “So are you going to be okay about Luke?”

She picked up a picture from the dresser. A picture of the entire McPherson family—Gabby included. “Yeah. I don't know what I expected. Maybe I just needed to meet him. To have him meet me. No-regrets kind of thing.” She glanced over. “You know what I mean?”

Patrick pulled her into his arms. Resting his head on top of hers, he released his breath. “Yeah. I know exactly what you mean. I also know that you're a cool kid. And I hope my kid is half as cool.”

Gabby tipped her head and grinned. “Hey, with me as a cousin, how could they not be?”

Patrick made it to the airport just in time for Bailey's arrival. After checking the flight status on the monitors, he moved to the security gate to wait. He was surprised at how many people were flying on Christmas Eve. Hordes of travelers squeezed through the gate, hurrying off to baggage claim or stopping to greet the friends and relatives who waited for them.

“Hey, Patrick!”

He turned to see Jonesy coming toward him. His hair was longer than the last time Patrick had seen him, and as usual he looked like he had just rolled out of bed.