His Christmas Angel
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‘Uh-huh.’ He could’ve done without that reminder.
She gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘You still don’t get it? Brian put Schofield on the map and the town adored him for it. As his widow, they adore me too.’
So they should. But for who she was, not because she’d married Brian Parker. Her fragrance curled around him as he followed her into the house. She smelt like Christmas—a cross between pinecones and plum pudding.
‘You have no idea how fabulous this widowhood caper is.’
His jaw dropped. ‘Fabulous?’
‘You bet. I have a whole town that’ll do anything for me. You just saw.’
He sure had.
‘I’m surrounded by people eager to help me out.’ She filled the kettle, then leant a hip against the kitchen sink. ‘If I don’t get a chance to walk Rufus, Max next door does it for me. Keith and Phillip take it in turns to mow my lawn. If I need an odd job done around the house it’s done—’ she snapped her fingers ‘—like that. Every home gardener in the neighbourhood supplies me with more fruit and veggies than I know what to do with. And eggs—I get lots of eggs.’ She grinned. ‘Everyone looks out for me.’
Unease slugged through him. ‘And you like that?’ It’d suffocate the hell out of him.
‘I love it, and what’s more…’ she sent him a mischievous grin ‘…I don’t have the mean girls at school saying, “Poor Cassie; she still hasn’t found herself a man,” and I get it all without the bother of having a husband.’
He gripped the back of the chair. ‘Was Brian a bother?’
The curtain of hair immediately hid her face.
Damn, damn and double damn. What had made her go and rattle on like that?
‘Cassie?’
‘From what I hear all husbands are a bother.’ She tried for light. It didn’t work. Or at least Sol didn’t buy it. Panic scurried through her. ‘Brian is dead.’ She couldn’t hide the pain that stretched across her voice. She just hoped to God she’d managed to hide the guilt.
‘So, if you can’t have Brian this is the next best thing?’
No. God forgive her. Being Brian’s widow was the best thing. But she couldn’t tell Sol that. She couldn’t tell anyone.
He sat heavily when she remained silent. ‘I see.’
She doubted that. And she was glad, she told herself fiercely. She didn’t want anyone to see. She lifted her chin. ‘I’m never, ever getting married again.’
‘Don’t say that, Cassie.’ He reached across and took her hand. ‘I swear you can find what you had with Brian again.’
Exactly. That was what she was afraid of.
‘And give up all this?’
Alec wheeled back into the kitchen and she tugged her hand free, tried to slow the stupid scampering of her heart. Alec had changed out of his pyjamas, but he still had the kitten on his lap. Maybe she’d misjudged him? Maybe he’d like a kitten to love?
She glanced at her watch. ‘I’m afraid I have to get going.’ She should’ve taken the ride Keith had offered. But Sol had smelt too good, looked too good, for her to surrender all hopes of sharing at least one cup of coffee with him this morning.
Bad idea. Look where that temptation had landed her. Idiot. She was not risking everything she’d built up here in Schofield because some man smelt good and looked good.
Sol surveyed her for a long moment. ‘I thought you had to help Alec out with something.’
Alec glanced up. ‘You do?’
‘Sure I do. But it’ll have to wait till this afternoon.’
‘You just put the kettle on,’ Sol pointed out.
‘I…umm…habit. I don’t have time now.’ She headed for the front door and tried not to breathe too deeply as she walked past him.
CHAPTER THREE
‘HELLO?’ Cassie called through the back door as kittens clambered over her feet. ‘Anyone home?’
The day before yesterday she’d have waltzed straight in, calling for Alec, but not today. Not when Sol was living here. What if he were one of those people who walked around their house naked?
After all, it was hot.
Heat that had nothing to do with summer temperatures surged through her. She really didn’t want to walk in on a naked Sol. She fanned a hand in front of her face, trying to cool down. She really didn’t. Honest. Though half naked would be nice. She wouldn’t mind seeing him without his shirt, just to see how much he’d changed in ten years. Just to see if his shoulders promised—
Arghh. Can that thought right now, Cassie Parker. You don’t fantasise about near-naked men.
‘Wrong. I quite obviously do,’ she muttered, wondering at the political correctness of such an admission.
‘Do what?’
Sol loomed on the other side of the screen door, and for a moment all Cassie could do was stare. ‘Uh, make a sterling scratching post,’ she gulped. She bent down to detach a kitten from her leg. When she straightened, she prayed her face wasn’t red.
Alec wheeled up behind Sol. ‘You’re early again,’ he grumbled.
‘Yes, I am.’ Alec still had the kitten on his lap. It curled up there as if it never meant to leave. ‘Well, aren’t you going to let me in?’ she demanded, as both men stared at her. Sol shook himself, then pushed the door open. ‘Have I got something on my face?’ She scrubbed a hand across her face as both men continued to stare. Sol sent her a lop-sided grin that had her stomach falling all over itself.
He pointed. ‘On your head.’
‘My Santa hat?’ She twirled on the spot. ‘Do you like it? I wore it specially.’
‘Humph.’ Alec backed up and wheeled away.
‘It looks hot,’ Sol said.
Her eyes narrowed. Man, did this place need some Christmas cheer or what? She followed him into the kitchen. ‘It certainly captures the spirit of the afternoon.’
Both men swung around to stare at her suspiciously. She beamed back at them. ‘We’re putting up your Christmas tree.’ She held up one hand as they both opened their mouths to argue. ‘I have my heart set on decorating your Christmas tree, and don’t forget that I’m the town’s favourite widow and only blackguards without scruple would disappoint me.