Any Given Christmas (17 page)

“I do have a business degree.”

“Oh yeah. I forgot about that.”

“And I might have had a little help,” he admitted.

“From who?”

A certain ghost mama.
He shook his head and grinned. “If things go forward, as I expect they will, you’ll find out at the appropriate time.”

“Wow. That’s cryptic.”

“You have no idea.” He chuckled. “Guess we better get down to business.” When they reached his office he opened his laptop. She sat across from him, studied him like he was a two-legged spider. “Got something else on your mind?”

“Ugh. Am I that transparent? Or are you really that good at reading me?”

“I read signs for a living. I watch the eyes of my opponents to see what their next move is going to be. You’re not transparent, but you’re pretty damned close.”

“And yet, I chose to be an officer of the court.”

“Spill, Kel.”

“What’s up with you and Emma Hart?”

Unfortunately nothing.
“Why?”

“For starters, everyone saw how you acted the other night at the Irish. Your team was playing and yet you couldn’t keep your eyes off her.”

“And you know this because you have a magic mirror in your Chicago apartment?”

“I know this because—”

“Baby sister ratted me out.”

“Yeah. Kinda.”

“Well, Kate must have been seeing things,” he said, “because if she failed to mention it, Emma was on a date.”

“With Jesse Hamilton. I know. Look, Jesse is a stand-up guy. He’s one of the nicest, most responsible
younger
men in this town.”

“And what am I, the big bad wolf?”

“I don’t think of you like that and you know it. Kate does, though. She thinks you suck at relationships.”

“I do not.”

“Seriously?” She gave a tilt of her head and her ponytail flopped to one side. “When was the last time you had a relationship with someone that lasted more than two weeks?”

“They all last more than two weeks.”

“I meant to say two months.”

“Okay. You got me.” Dean took a slug of coffee, winced at the burn on his tongue, and set his mug down on a stone coaster. “The only long-term relationship I’ve ever had is with a football.”

“Exactly.” His sister brushed her blond hair behind her shoulders. “Which is what has Kate’s apron in a knot. Emma Hart is looking for love, Dean. A real one-on-one connection that will lead to a forever relationship. She wants children. She wants her own happily-ever-after.”

“Did she send you here to tell me that?”

“Emma? Are you kidding? She’s a very private person. Kate knows more about her than I do and that isn’t much.”

Hell,
he
probably knew more about Emma than both his sisters put together. But they didn’t need to know that. What Emma had told him would remain private unless she decided otherwise.

“And this has
what
to do with me?”

Kelly leaned forward and placed her hand on his arm. “You’re a good guy, Dean, but Emma’s not your type. Like I said,
everyone
saw the way you watched her the other night at the bar. She needs a man who will be there for her. And as much as I love you and I think the world of you—”

“I get it. I’m not a keeper.”

Jesus. Who did they think he was, Hannibal Lecter?

“No worries, Kel. You and Kate can sheath your Power Ranger swords. Your sacred little schoolteacher is safe from the big bad quarterback.”

For now
.

T
he car keys twirled in Dean’s hand as he punched the garage door opener and headed toward the less-than-economical SUV he’d bought when he’d come back into town. But as he opened the driver’s door, he glanced at the rusted heap of crap parked next to the SUV. He hadn’t had a conversation with his mother since he’d come back from Houston. Maybe he’d take the Buick and see if she had time to pop in for a chat.

Several miles down the road Tom Jones began to moan through the radio
.

“Oh, goody! You’re back!”

Dean smiled, pulled to the side of the road, and turned in his seat. She hadn’t changed. Same red flannel over her overalls. Same gray bun on top of her head. Same bright golden glow hovering all over the place. “Hi, Mom. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Well, you wouldn’t have if you’d driven that big old gas guzzler. What’s up with that?”

“I thought it would come in handy with transporting people around.”

“For the charity?”

“Yep.”

She clasped a transparent hand to her chest. “Oh, Son, I just can’t tell you how wonderful this is going to be. I know you’ll be so involved you won’t even miss football.”

“Of course I’m not going to miss football. I’ll be headed out to training camp in July.”

“Yes. Of course.” She glanced away. “That’s what I meant.”

He lifted a brow. “Is it?”

“Is it what?”

“Stop dodging the question.” He leaned closer. “You can’t see into the future, can you?”

“Pffft. No. Of course not. That would be ridiculous.”

“And me sitting in your car talking to you after you’ve been dead for five months isn’t?”

“Well, there is that. So what’s the plan? Tell me all the details.”

“You are so transparent.”

“Well, of course I am, silly boy. I’m dead.”

Dean laughed, turned in his seat, and leaned against the door. For the next ten minutes he ran his whole game plan by his mother the same way he had when he’d been in high school and college. If anyone had driven by, they would have called the men in little white jackets to take him away. As it was, their in-depth conversation hadn’t been disturbed. The strange reality that he happened to be having this exchange with someone who no longer existed did not slip past him.

“Does dad know you still hang around?” Dean asked when they’d wrapped up.

“Well, not like you and Kate. I’ve got to catch him when he’s sleeping. He doesn’t believe in ghosts and things that go bump in the night.”

“Mom?
I
don’t believe in that stuff either.”

“But you’re more open-minded. Someone,” she pointed her finger skyward, “who shall remain nameless says that within every mind there is the possibility to see what does not always seem believable. Which is why children are so open to the possibilities. No one has told them what they can or cannot see. Their imaginations are works of art. But when you get older, the heart gets jaded and you rely too much on the evidence instead of the possibility of the miracle.”

“Wow. That’s pretty deep.”

“Yeah.” She laughed. “Weird, huh.”

He nodded. “Pretty damn weird.”

“Just saying, it doesn’t hurt to keep an open mind and open heart at the same time. You just never know what might be right around the corner.” She leaned forward and patted his shoulder. “Who knows, you could even fall in love.”

“That wouldn’t be a miracle, Mom.
That
would be a disaster.”

F
ire crackled and popped in the woodstove as Emma sat on her floor and prepared the week’s lessons. Between her notations, she’d put down her pen and dangle a catnip mouse in front of Oscar’s twitching whiskers. Instead of his usual pounce and attack, he barely touched it with his pink nose. He looked up at Emma with his one blue eye and one green eye as if to say he wasn’t in the mood for felt mouse-chasing or for getting catnip-tipsy.

“What’s the matter, boy?” She lifted his chubby body into her arms and stroked him between his pointy ears. “Did you eat something that upset your tummy?”

Oscar turned on his motor and head-butted her chin. His way of saying
I love you.
She held her old friend in her lap. His warm body curled up on her legs and his purr got louder while she stroked his silky fur.

She and Oscar went way back to a time when she’d learned about life the hard way. She’d been eighteen and so far off the radar with the cool kids she didn’t even register. Then she’d met the college buddy Dean had brought home for the summer. Nick Harris had been cute and muscular and for some reason he’d singled her out and invited her to the bonfire party. Up to that point the closest she’d ever gotten to one of the infamous bonfire parties was when her Memaw had driven past it on their way to a friend’s house to play Yahtzee.

To Emma the invitation had been huge. A sign of acceptance into the cool kid club. She’d gone there with good intentions. She’d left there without her pride or her virginity.

On the way home from that bonfire party she’d discovered Oscar. A tiny kitten who’d been abandoned by a dumpster at the school yard where she’d hidden until she could gather herself together. She’d known she couldn’t go home until she made that happen. Causing any distress for her Memaw had been out of the question. She’d cuddled that kitten against her chest all the way home and they’d become one.

At night, Oscar slept beneath the covers between her ankles. She’d always been careful not to move suddenly so as not to injure him. But Oscar hadn’t minded the occasional bonk on the head. When he grew from a kitten to a cat, he’d seemed to sense her moods. On those nights when loneliness crept up, she’d lie on her side so the tears would slide down her face and onto her pillow. Oscar would settle himself against her body with his head on her shoulder. He’d look up at her with his mismatched eyes as if he wished he could take away her pain.

She stroked his soft fur and leaned down to kiss his head right between his pointy ears. “I love you, Oscar. Even if everybody else thinks you’re evil and grumpy. They just don’t know you like I do.”

“Merrrrooowww.”

Emma laughed. Her cat never just said a plain meow. He always had an extra little
grrrr
to add.

The knock on the door surprised her. Who would come by this late? She lifted Oscar from her lap and gently set him on the floor. Tail swishing, he followed her as she reached for the deadbolt and swung open the door.

Dean stood on the other side of the threshold in the dark gray Kodiak parka that made the green in his eyes almost glow.

His gaze lowered down her legs then climbed back up to her face. “You’re really into cartoons, aren’t you?”

She glanced down at her Minnie Mouse pajama bottoms. “They make me smile.”

His gaze lowered again to her tank top and the hard peaks poking against the thin fabric. A corner of his mouth lifted. “Me too.”

“Merrrrooowww.”

Dean looked down where Oscar rubbed against her leg. “Hello to you too, evil cat.”

“He’s not evil. He just has discriminating taste.”

“He hates me,” Dean said.

“Like I said.”

Dean laughed.

“Why are you here?” Emma asked. “It’s nine o’clock at night. Shouldn’t you be out carousing at the bowling alley or something?”

“Good one, teacher. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“Probably not.”

“It’s cold out here.”

“Then maybe you should get back in your—” She glanced out the door to see his mother’s rusted bomber parked in her driveway. “Where’s that monster of an SUV you bought?”

He shrugged. “Long story. Can I
please
come in?”

When his gaze slipped down the front of her tank top again, she folded her arms. No need to give the man a free show. “Fine.” She stepped aside and he walked in. Oscar arched his back and hissed.

“See,” Dean said. “He hates me.”

“He just doesn’t understand the fine art of playing with an egg-shaped ball for a living. He prefers yarn.”

Dean’s head whipped up and a huge grin curved his sensuous lips. “See what happens when I leave you alone for a few days? You become a total smartass.”

She shrugged. “I could be worse things.”

“I’d pay money to see that.”

She sighed. Looked away. Anywhere other than at him and those gorgeous eyes, that slightly dimpled chin, and those big shoulders and broad chest. He overwhelmed the place with his over-the-top masculinity. And he made her want to peel off his clothes, push him down to the floor, and have her way with him. “And why was it that you wanted to come in?”

“I told you the other night that I wanted to talk to you about the charity. You didn’t give me the chance.”

“
You
started off the conversation by kissing me against my will.”

“
You
didn’t seem to mind it so much at the time.”

“
You
weren’t paying attention.”

“On the contrary.” Another smile deepened the dimple in his chin. “I was paying very close attention.”

“Does everything you say have to be filled with sexual innuendoes?”

“Why, Emma, I was referring to the Packers hat you were wearing. Which is why I yanked it off your head. If you ask me, you caused my team to lose.”

“I had nothing to do with that. Maybe you should talk to that over-inflated-ego-driven backup QB.”