Harlequin Special Edition November 2014 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Weaver Christmas Gift\The Soldier's Holiday Homecoming\Santa's Playbook (6 page)

He pressed his mouth against the satiny flesh of her inner thigh and felt the shiver work through her. Then he pushed back, straightening painfully from the wooden bar stool.

He didn't look at her. Couldn't, or he'd chuck his common sense entirely out the window and carry her up to his bedroom and keep her there for an eternity.

He picked up the oversize faded blue T-shirt she'd been wearing and tossed it onto the counter next to the broken violin.

She closed her hand over the shirt, then bunched it against her waist. Her coffee-colored gaze followed him.

“Go home, Janie.”

Her lips parted. Red came and went in her beautiful face. She pushed up on one elbow. Golden. Feminine. Naked. “I'm not leaving you like this.”

Some corner of his mind thought that under other circumstances, that sentiment might have been funny coming from her.

“If you won't leave, then I will.”

Her brow knit. She sat up all the way and yanked the shirt over her head, fumbled with her glasses, then jumped off the granite-topped island and pulled on the rest of her clothes with jerky motions. Her shoes clenched in one fist, she stopped in front of him.

Stared up at him through those damned sexy glasses.

“Clean out that scratch,” she said tightly. “You might still have glass in it.”

Then she stomped past him toward the front of the house.

A few seconds later, he heard the door slam behind her.

He exhaled, looked up at the ceiling and squeezed the back of his neck between his hands.

If he could strangle himself, he would.

At least then he'd be out of his misery.

* * *

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

Jane was still muttering the words under her breath the next morning as she stocked the bar in preparation for another Friday night.

She didn't know if she was accusing herself of stupidity or
him
.

She knew it didn't matter, as she muscled a fresh beer keg into place in her cooler and connected it. Because the word fit them both.

To a capital-sized boldface
T
.

She closed the door to the cooler and returned to the front of the bar. She was needlessly mopping the floor that Merilee had already mopped the night before when the air around her seemed to turn thin.

She looked up to see Casey walking through from the restaurant.

Her hands clenched around the mop handle, but that only reminded her of sweeping up the glass at his place the night before. And where
that
had ended.

She propped the mop against the counter and folded her arms, giving him a cool stare. It wasn't often that she saw him dressed in something other than jeans and crazy shirts. Unless he was undressed, that was.

She shook off that annoying detail.

“You look dressed for a funeral,” she greeted when he stopped on the other side of the bar. Black suit. White shirt and pale blue tie. Even his hair, usually too long, wavy and rumpled, was trimmed and brushed brutally back from his lean face.

His lips twisted. He dropped her wallet on the bar between them. “You left that at my place.”

She flushed. In her rush to escape the night before, she hadn't even realized she'd forgotten it. She snatched it and shoved it inside a drawer full of Colbys drink coasters located on the shelves on the wall behind her.

When she turned back around, he was already departing again.

She stared after him until long after he was gone.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she muttered again.

Chapter Six

“D
id you tell her where you're going?”

Casey shook his head at Tristan's question when he climbed into the SUV waiting in Colbys's parking lot. “No point.”

He was glad his uncle refrained from sharing whatever it was he thought about that. Instead, they just settled in for the drive to the private airstrip Tris maintained outside of town, where a jet emblazoned with Cee-Vid on the side was waiting. It took them straight to Phoenix, where an air-conditioned town car drove them out to the National Cemetery. There, in the shade of an overhead awning that protected them from the glare of a merciless October sun though not the heat of it, they stood respectfully behind the seated family members burying their beloved son, Jonathan, who'd been a decorated marine before he'd ever heard of Hollins-Winword.

Cole, Casey knew, was attending another funeral, for Manny, on the other side of the country in Maine. He couldn't be in both places, so Tristan—his second in command—got the task. Casey had threatened to go on his own until his uncle relented and said Casey could come with him.

As they stood there, listening to the uniformed minister offering the eulogy, Casey couldn't stop thinking about how Jon's family was completely ignorant of the life he had lived. Sharing those secrets voluntarily wouldn't have lessened their love. But learning of them involuntarily? If they ever discovered the magnitude of what their son had kept from them, would they see it as a betrayal? Or would they understand that such things were done in hopes of protecting them?

Even among his own family members, there were few who knew about Cee-Vid's secret.

The sharp report of the first rifle volley assaulted his ears, and he focused on the seven riflemen as they shot off two more rounds. Then they tucked several shell casings into the now tightly folded United States flag that had been draped over the casket.

A prayer. More tears as the flag was handed over to parents who'd never know the whole truth.

And it was done.

Even offering their condolences afterward had the gloss of lies. Yes, they were professional acquaintances of Jonathan's. No, they couldn't join the family for sandwiches and refreshing iced tea at their home later. Yes, Jon had had a hell of a sense of humor and a deeply ingrained sense of honor.

Then Tristan and Casey climbed back into the air-conditioned town car, which carried them back to the airport.

By nightfall they were in Weaver, where the temperatures were a good forty degrees colder, and the only thing that Casey wanted was a drink.

Of the alcoholic kind.

Going to Colbys, though, was about the last thing he wanted to do. Drinking at home, alone, was about the last thing he should be doing. It was what had led to him beating the hell out of the violin that had once belonged to his grandmother Sarah. She'd died giving birth to her youngest son, Tristan, and the only way that Casey's generation knew her at all was through their grandfather Squire.

If Squire ever learned what he'd done, the old man—ninety-something or not—would rightfully string Casey up by his heels.

Instead of going anywhere else, instead of drinking anything at all, he ended up seeking sanctuary in his office at Cee-Vid. But not even there, among his computers and monitors, where he used to feel most comfortable, did he find any peace.

* * *

Jane smoothed the edge of the banner she was hanging and fastened the last corner over the hook high on the wall above her shelves of liquor bottles. She glanced down at Hayley, who was sitting at the bar eating the grilled cheese sandwich she'd ordered for lunch. “Does it look straight to you?” From her angle, perched as she was on top of a ladder, Jane couldn't tell.

Hayley angled her head, studying the long rectangular banner. “Needs to come down a few inches on your side.”

Jane adjusted it slightly, then, after Hayley's nod, climbed down from the ladder. She walked out into the middle of the room to get a look at the banner herself.

Each fall since she'd bought Colbys, Jane had sponsored a Halloween costume contest and toy drive in October and a food drive in November. But this was the first year she was adding a pool tournament in December, and she'd ordered a new banner advertising all the events at once. “Perfect.” She went back behind the bar and folded the tall ladder to return it to the storeroom.

When she came back out again, Hayley had finished her sandwich and was stifling a yawn.

“Keeping you up?”

Hayley shook her head and smiled ruefully. “Sorry.” Almost immediately, she hid another yawn behind her hand. “Out late last night dealing with an emergency.”

“Sheriff's office call you in?” Jane knew Hayley was often called in by the sheriff's department when a situation required a counselor.

But Hayley shook her head again. “Spent half the night playing mediator to my own family members.”

“Still in an uproar over your grandmother?”

“Archer warned me to keep my nose out of it.”

Jane had met Hayley's older brother only once, when he'd come up from his home in Cheyenne to visit his sister. “I'm guessing that you didn't.”

Hayley's lips twisted ruefully. “I invited her to come and stay with me.”

“
Definitely
didn't keep your nose out of it.” Jane automatically took away her friend's empty plate and refilled her water glass. “Is she going to?”

Hayley nodded. “Oh, yes. Vivian—I just can't get used to calling her
Grandma
when I don't even know her—is bound and determined to visit. She told my dad that she's coming whether he likes it or not. I couldn't very well let her stay in a motel. She'll be here this weekend.”

Neither Braden nor Weaver possessed anything as fancy as an actual
hotel
. There were accommodations to be had—clean and decent—but by no means fancy. “And then what happens once she's here?”

“That is the hundred-dollar question.” Hayley propped her chin on her hand and made a face. “If I knew the reasons why they were estranged in the first place, maybe I'd have a better idea.”

“I'm sure you'll get to the bottom of it.”

“Yes, but I have to admit I'm not used to navigating a minefield where my own family is concerned. It's a whole different ball of wax than doing so with my patients.” She straightened and brushed her hands together as if mentally dismissing the matter. “Are you still getting any guff from the town council over adding another pool tournament?”

“Not too much anymore.” They'd approved her event by a narrow margin, but it had still been approved. “I'm advertising all over the state and if the registrations are high enough, it'll just mean more tourism dollars during the town's tree-lighting celebration. They've already seen the dollars my July Fourth tournament has brought in for the town. Evidently, the idea of increasing their coffers was enough to silence the protests that we had no business holding a billiards tournament during the Christmas season.” She shrugged. “Plus, the proceeds from the tournament are going to be split between the winners and local charities. They couldn't very well complain about that.”

“Any registrations yet?”

“A few. But it's still early. I figure if I get even half of the crowd I get in July, it'll be a success.”

“And will a certain gray-eyed man with the initials C and C be among them?”

Jane grabbed a handful of coasters from the drawer and stacked them neatly beneath the bar. She hadn't seen Casey in more than a week. Not since the morning he'd returned her wallet to her. “Can't imagine why not. He's always played before. Along with a passel of other members of the C family.” The Clays were unfailingly supportive of community events. For Casey not to enter would imply there'd been more between them than just sex.

Since that clearly wasn't the case, she expected he'd play and finish as well as ever. He'd won the Fourth of July tournament the year before last.

She tapped the rounded edges of the stack again, neatening what didn't need neatening. “I, um, I told Arlo I'd go out with him again. Sunday afternoon.” Tap, tap, tap. “There's some picnic thing going on in Braden with a bunch of his lawyer friends.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“It's nearly the end of October. It'll be too cold out for a picnic. I think I should cancel.”

Hayley snorted softly. “Since when does a little cold bother you?”

She ignored that. “It's only Tuesday. He'll have plenty of time to find someone else to go with him.”

“Thoughtful of you, though he might not agree. Why do you
really
want to cancel?”

Tap, tap, tap. Annoyed with herself, she moved the coasters out of her reach. She hadn't told Hayley what had happened when she'd gone to Casey's place. Hadn't told Hayley that she'd gone there at all.

Some things were simply too humiliating to share, even with your closest friend.

But she was afraid she'd agreed to Arlo's invitation as enthusiastically as she had only because she'd been so upset with Casey. And that wasn't at all fair to Arlo.

“Jane,” Hayley prompted. “Why cancel?”

She gestured toward the banner. “Next to the summertime, I'm coming into my busiest time of year around here. I probably shouldn't be off gallivanting around at some park thirty miles away.”

Hayley just smiled faintly and gave her a knowing look. “If you say so.” Then she glanced at the oversize watch on her slender wrist. “I'd better get back to my office. I have patients this afternoon.” She started to pay for her sandwich, but Jane waved off the money.

“You know that's no good here.”

Hayley tucked away her wallet. “Far be it from me to turn down a free grilled cheese sandwich.” She slid off the bar stool and glanced over her shoulder when the street-side door opened.

Sunshine streamed through the entrance, blocked only by the tall shape of Casey as he strolled inside, his shoulders looking more massive than ever thanks to the leather bomber jacket he was wearing.

Jane's mouth dried.

Casey's cousin Axel entered behind him, and they headed toward the pool tables.

Axel lifted a hand in a casual, easy greeting.

Casey didn't look her way at all.

“Have a good time on Sunday with Arlo,” Hayley advised, loudly and cheerfully, before heading out the same door the men had just come through.

Jane felt her face flush when Casey finally looked her way at that.

She turned her back on him and started hanging a garland of Halloween pumpkins and white spiderwebs from the shelves behind her, but the tingling on the back of her neck told her when he came up to the bar. She schooled her expression and looked at him over her shoulder. “What'll it be? Usual?”

“It's barely past noon.”

She turned to face him as if he were any other customer. “It's always five o'clock somewhere.” She tossed a towel over her shoulder and managed to look at him without really looking at him. “But I've got plenty of that fancy root beer your cousin Erik likes and the best iced tea in town, if you're on the wagon for some reason.”

“Janie—”

So they were back to
Janie
. She wished she knew him well enough—knew him at
all
—to understand what significance that held. If any.

She stretched her lips in a superbly bright smile. “Jerry's got fresh pecan pie over in the grill, if you're looking for a bite. He's been perfecting it to enter in the Harvest Festival bake-off in a few weeks.”

“I don't want any pie.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself. But it's half-off today.” Judging by the home Casey had, she was guessing he didn't need to worry about saving a few bucks on a piece of pie, or anything else, for that matter. She looked beyond him and raised her voice. “Axel, you want some of Jerry's pecan pie?”

The tall blond man was racking the balls. “Sounds good to me, Jane. Thanks.”

“Coming up.” She tossed the towel down by the sink and even though she could have entered the order from her register behind the bar, she headed toward the grill—and away from Casey.

She wanted to dawdle, but she didn't. She was the only one manning the bar at that hour, so leaving it unattended wasn't an option. She served up the thick wedge of pie herself, grabbed a napkin and silverware to go with it and carried it all back into the bar.

Casey hadn't moved.

Ignoring him, she took the pie over to the high-top next to Axel's pool table and set it there. “Jerry's outdone himself,” she told him easily. “Enjoy.”

Then, because she couldn't really avoid it, she went back behind the bar and returned to her chores.

“We should talk.”

Her shoulders stiffened when Casey spoke. She climbed up on her step stool so she could better reach the shelves with the garland. “Can't imagine why.”

“About what happened.”

She wished that her bar were crowded to the gills, because he never would think about broaching personal matters if they'd be easily overheard. “We made a point not to talk about that stuff from the get-go.” She stretched farther, draping and pinning cobwebs like some sort of decorating maniac. “Don't see any reason for a policy change now.”

“Dammit, Janie—”

“Was just habit,” she spoke over him. “A bad sexship habit, but nothing to lose sleep over. Not for me, anyway.” It was such a blatant lie she was tempted to check whether her nose was growing. And when the phone hanging on the wall next to the register rang, she was pathetically grateful to scramble off the ladder and answer it.

It was Arlo. Either God was punishing her for her sins or sending her a life vest. She honestly wasn't sure which. But either way, she pushed far more enthusiasm than she felt into her greeting. “Arlo! I can't wait for Sunday. I even went out and bought myself a new outfit.” She
had
bought a new dress over at Classic Charms. But only because it had been on sale, left over from summer. Wearing it to an outdoor picnic in October would never work.