A Weaver Christmas Gift Read online

  In the past few months, he’d been absent even more than usual.

  “Work’s probably been keeping you pretty busy,” his sister chattered on. “So you’re bringing Jane this evening, right? Everyone’ll be in town and present for duty at the tree lighting.”

  “We’ll see.”

  She gave him the “I’m your big sister” look she’d been giving him all her life. “You’re bringing your girlfriend, Casey.”

  “She’s not—” He gave up. There was no word to accurately describe what Jane was, so why try? J.D. might not know about Hollins-Winword, but like most of his family, his sister had still decided she knew what was what. No amount of talking on his part would change her mind.

  “Heard how you popped Arlo one,” she continued blithely. “Nearly fell off my chair. Never even knew you had a temper lurking inside you.” She poked him in the side, right where she knew he was ticklish. “Turns out my unflappable brother has a jealous streak. Who knew?”

  He grabbed her finger before she could jab again. “Just because I love you doesn’t mean I won’t break this thing off.”

  She grinned and patted his cheek. “I’m so afraid.”

  Then the door opened again behind them and her husband, Jake Forrest, entered. “Would’ve been easier to ride horses into town than find a parking place,” he said in greeting. He stuck out his hand to Casey and clapped him on the shoulder as they shook hands. “Heard you’re going for the Golden Gloves.” Jake’s lips twitched. “Never knew you were the boxing sort.”

  Casey grimaced. “Suppose it’s too much to hope my own family would let me live that one down.”

  “Way too much,” J.D. agreed. “I’m more likely to punch someone than you are.”

  Since everyone around had evidence to the contrary, Casey just shook his head. “When’re Angeline and Brody getting here?”

  “This afternoon. Angel was hoping Sofia and Early would get their naps in on the drive over. She’s dreaming, if you ask me, because I also know they’re bringing a couple of their new pups along for Uncle Matt to check out. He’s wanting a new dog for the Double-C.”

  Casey nodded toward the wall. “D’you see the leaderboard up there?”

  J.D. saw their father’s name and let out a whoop. “You go, Daniel Clay!” She grabbed Jake’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go find him.”

  His brother-in-law gave Casey a wry smile and indulgently followed as J.D. dragged him into the crowded bar.

  Jane had written in the starting times for the games next to the finalists’ names. Even if he was pleased about his father’s progress, Casey still wasn’t particularly in the mood for socializing. And he definitely wasn’t in the mood for explaining why. So rather than hang out in the crowded bar until his dad’s game began, he worked his way around the perimeter and slipped through the storeroom door.

  Janie’s office door was closed but not locked and he went inside. He sat down on her squeaky desk chair and studied the brand-new computer sitting on top of the desk.

  At least she’d gotten one.

  He booted it up and saw immediately that her old files had been transferred over and when, and that she’d barely used it since.

  He didn’t have to work hard to imagine her sitting right where he was now, cursing the new computer with every keystroke.

  Jane and computers barely mixed.

  In only a matter of minutes, he’d reorganized the system so it would at least appear more like what she was used to. She was even linked to the internet at long last, though her security levels were pathetic. He reset everything, including her woefully predictable passwords so she’d have at least a modicum of security against the typical hack attempt. Then, since he was there with nothing better to do, he beefed up her firewall and virus software and made sure she was set for automatic backups.

  She’d want to brain him for interfering, but the changes were done and she was too practical to insist they be undone.

  Then, because his dad’s game was still some time off, he leaned back in the chair, making it squeal even more wildly, propped his feet on the corner of her desk by the picture of her little sister and closed his eyes.

  * * *

  Which was exactly the position he was in when Jane, running into her office for a new black marker since the old one was running out of ink, discovered him. Proprietarily snoozing in her office, his dusty boots propped on her desk, while the words “Have you seen these fish?” scrolled up and down and around on her computer screen in a dizzying array of colors with animated neon-colored fish swimming in the background.

  She should have shoved his boots off the desk. Taken him to task for messing with her computer, because he obviously had. The shirt she’d borrowed from his closet was folded on top of her file cabinet. It had clearly been his inspiration for the screen saver.

  Instead, she paused for a moment and studied his face.

  “You come in here for a reason, or just to admire the wares?”

  She huffed, but only to maintain good form. “I should have known you weren’t asleep.”

  He didn’t move an inch except to open one eye. “I was until you started breathing all hot and heavy.”

  She couldn’t quite keep her amusement under wraps, but she unceremoniously took him by the boots and lifted his feet off the desk anyway.

  The chair positively squawked as it tilted far backward.

  He shot out an arm to steady the chair, grabbing on to the nearest object.

  Which happened to be her leg.

  She let go, and his boots hit the floor with a thud.

  Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on one’s viewpoint—he didn’t let go of her.

  Instead, his hand slid upward from the back of her knee to flirt with the back of her thigh, his touch ridiculously warm through her denim jeans.

  Her brain just sort of short-circuited. “I took your violin,” she blurted.

  His fingers paused their merry little tiptoe. His eyebrows lifted slightly.

  “I, um, I thought I’d see if it could be fixed.” She moistened her lips. “I know I had no business. I mean, it’s your violin, but—”

  “It’s okay.”

  Her words dried up in her throat. “It is?”

  He swiveled in the chair, sliding his other hand behind her other thigh.

  “Yes. But why’d you care?”

  She had a building full of people and all she could think about was the fact that, sitting as he was, his head was on a level with her breasts and his fingertips were roving over her rear.

  “Because—” She broke off. Swallowed hard and tried not to tremble. “Because I think the violin matters to you and—” And he mattered to her. “And you, um, you obviously haven’t had time to do anything about it,” she managed with careful tact, when what she wanted to do was demand answers that she knew better than to expect.

  His lips twisted. “It was my grandmother’s,” he said after a moment. “My dad’s mom. Squire’s first wife. Her name was Sarah.”

  She’d lived in town long enough to have heard the general history of the Clays. She knew that Squire Clay’s first wife had died when his five sons were still young, so there was no way that Casey could have ever met the woman. “It must be pretty old.”

  He made a small grunt of agreement. “The old man didn’t save much of hers when she died,” he added after a moment. “Couldn’t bear it, according to my dad.”

  “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 he
ad 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

  The 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 par
ka 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?”