A Mate for Christmas: Collection 1

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A Mate for Christmas: Collection 1 Page 23

by Zoe Chant


  “Oh! Oh-h-h-h.” She grinned, and Meaghan’s stomach dropped.

  She’d seen that look before, when Hannah was discussing her grandchildren’s love lives.

  Surely she couldn’t think—he’s way out of my league! This isn’t a date, it’s a… an information-gathering meeting. For crazy conspiracy theorists. Who want to save Christmas from a pack of ghosts.

  “Actually the bar’s closed,” Hannah announced straight-faced. She flapped one hand behind her back. “Terence! Back in the kitchen. Now, a table for two…”

  Her grin widened. Meaghan’s stomach dropped even further. “Mrs. Holborn…”

  “It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it? Why don’t you both follow me upstairs.”

  “Mrs. Holborn, the bar’s—”

  “—Closed.” Hannah’s voice brooked no opposition. She gestured to the staircase at the back of the restaurant, and then to Caine to go ahead, and grabbed Meaghan’s elbow to hiss in her ear: “You never introduced me to your friend, Meaghan!”

  “I only met him today!”

  “Hmph! Moving fast. Good. No point in wasting time with these things.”

  “I’m not—This isn’t a—”

  Meaghan’s voice broke off as Hannah smacked her on the ass. She yelped and practically ran up the stairs.

  The Grill’s rooftop area was a maze of tiled courtyards that had been built into and around the terraced roof. Intimate tables were tucked in beside snow-covered eaves and roof tiles, heated by freestanding electric braziers.

  Meaghan groaned as Hannah led them both to the prime spot overlooking the square. The romantic, lights-and-tree-filled square.

  “Mrs. Holborn…”

  “Shh, love. Leave it to me,” Hannah whispered. Then, louder: “Drinks for you both to start?”

  “Not for me.” Meaghan rushed the words out and then blinked, surprised Hannah had let her finish the sentence. “Er, I’m driving. Caine’s staying out in the valley.”

  Hannah’s expression at that little tidbit would be seared into Meaghan’s memory forever, filed under Oh God why did I say that.

  “Well.” Hannah widened her eyes and, to Meaghan’s horror, winked. “Why don’t you both sit down and I’ll see about some menus? Terence!”

  She bustled away, leaving Meaghan feeling winded. She pressed her fingers against her eyes. “I am so sorry about that, Caine. Hannah—Mrs. Holborn—is…”

  The scrape of chair legs made her open her eyes. Caine was standing behind the chair nearest to her. Holding it out for her.

  “Mrs. Holborn seems like a very intelligent lady,” he said. One corner of his mouth curled up and Meaghan’s heart, already fluttering, started to thump.

  Is that a real smile, or a fuck-you’re-weird smile? Does it even matter?

  She swallowed. There was no point in fooling herself. She’d found Caine… distracting… even when she thought he was a dog-stealing arsonist, and now? Her skin heated up every time he so much as glanced at her. He was funny, warm…

  And he believes me about the ghost gang.

  Which was all this was about, right? That curled half-smile, the way he was playing along with Hannah’s mistaken idea that they were on some sort of a date—it had to be because finding out more about her crazy theory was more interesting than whatever business had brought him to Pine Valley.

  Hell, traveling for business at Christmas? He must be longing for anything to distract him.

  He’s just some guy who was happily living his life before you bulldozed your way into it. He’s just…

  Meaghan sat down and Caine gently pushed the chair in. She closed her eyes and groaned silently. He’s just the most amazing man you’ve ever met. And you ruined any chance you had with him before you even found out his name.

  She cracked one eye open. Hang on…

  Caine sat down across the table and she cleared her throat. “I’m not sure we actually… Did I ever introduce myself?”

  “No.” Caine’s eyes sparkled. “But I get the feeling it’s ‘Meaghan’? Or… ‘Megs’?”

  “Meaghan Markham. Not Megs. That’s just Jackson trying to rile me up.”

  “Does it work?”

  Meaghan snorted. “About as well as me hassling him about my conspiracy theories works to rile him up, so… yeah.”

  The restaurant door swung open and Hannah bustled over to the table, cradling a bottle under one arm.

  Caine raised his eyebrows at Meaghan. “I thought you said you weren’t drinking?”

  “Ah, she’s a big girl, she can have one drink with dinner and still drive.” Hannah plonked the bottle on the table before Meaghan could object. “But you’ll need something to help soak it up. Tonight’s menu…”

  “I’ll have everything,” Caine said quickly.

  Hannah nodded. “Good, good. And you, Meaghan? The usual?”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Holborn.”

  Hannah gave Meaghan a wink that made her cheeks burn and went back inside. Meaghan glared at the bottle of—holy crap, was that actual champagne?—and tried to pull her scrambled thoughts together.

  “Your gran’s not exactly subtle, is she?”

  Meaghan blinked. “What? Mrs. Holborn isn’t my grandmother.”

  “Ah. Sorry. I remember now.” Caine’s smile made Meaghan want to sigh and melt onto the floor. “One of your bad ideas: moving to a town where you don’t know anyone.”

  “Come New Year’s, I’ll have been here just about six months.”

  “I never would have guessed. Everyone I’ve seen here acts as if they’ve known you forever.”

  “Well, when you’ve got as much practice pushing yourself in where you’re not wanted as I do, these things come naturally.” Meaghan caught Caine’s questioning expression and sucked in her lower lip.

  Might as well come out and say it.

  She tapped her palms on the table. “Foster kid for life, that’s me. Trust me, when you’re a tiny fish in a big pond, you’ll do anything to stand out. Up to supergluing yourself to someone and telling them it means you’re friends now.”

  Caine chuckled. “I can’t imagine you as a tiny fish.”

  “Oh, I was. Then puberty hit. Suddenly I didn’t need to jump for people to see me.” She paused. “Didn’t stop me jumping, though.” Even though things that seemed cute when you were a knobbly-kneed tyke make you a pain in the ass now you’re all grown up.

  “That must have been hard.” Caine’s eyes were soft, staring into hers, and that was new. Usually people got so awkward they wouldn’t even look at her. Which never actually stopped her telling the story.

  That’s me. Foster kid always pushing myself in where I’m not wanted and making other people uncomfortable… Yeah, I might know where my issues come from, but that doesn’t mean I’m over them.

  “Well, better to have five or ten temporary families than none at all, right?” she said lightly.

  “Perhaps.”

  Something in Caine’s voice made her freeze. Oh shit. What have I said now? Families—better than having none at all… Oh, God, girl, how could you be so stupid?

  Her horror must have shown on her face. Caine held up a hand as she sputtered out an apology.

  “I’m sorry—I didn’t think—”

  “I was thinking there’s another option. A family that might as well not exist. My parents are both still alive, but they might as well be on the Moon for all I see them.” His mouth twisted. “And maybe that’s a good thing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  A family who was hers, but stayed far enough away that she couldn’t ruin things with them? Caine had just described the most Meaghan-proof option in the world.

  “My parents might not have been worth writing home about, but I had a good friend who was as close as a brother to me. And… things didn’t exactly work out.”

  It might have been the flickering lights from the braziers, but Caine looked pale. Meaghan wanted to reach out and comfort him. She sat on her hands as he rubbed his
face and groaned.

  “Sorry. That got heavy fast, didn’t it? What was I—oh, I remember.” Caine rested his cheek on one hand and gave her a rueful smile. “I was about to give you a comforting speech about how I never would have guessed you’d only been in Pine Valley six months, and the best family is the one you build yourself, and if Mrs. Holborn isn’t your gran, then—”

  He broke off and made a strange noise. Meaghan blinked. It sounded like a growl. A whiny growl, the sort Parkour or Lolly would make when they thought they weren’t getting their fair share of pets.

  “Excuse me?” she said.

  “Er.” Caine cleared his throat. “Can I pour you a drink?”

  “Go ahead.”

  Meaghan watched Caine fill her glass. The champagne fizzed, catching the firelight.

  He frowned at his own glass as he filled it. Meaghan leaned forward.

  “Then…?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I mean, great speech so far, but you need to work on your closing remarks. ‘Then’ leaves a lot of room for confusion.”

  Caine looked strangely displeased. For a moment she thought he was going to change the subject, then he sighed. “Then, if Mrs. Holborn isn’t your gran… she must have been trying to set you up with her grandson back there in the bar. Terence.”

  Meaghan burst out laughing. “She what? Oh my God, Caine, that’s ridiculous. Besides, I’ve met… all of her grandsons…”

  “How many does she have?”

  “Nine.” Meaghan grimaced as a few memories rose to the surface. “I’ve had awkward drinks with the whole set, except for Terence, and I think I’ve just realized why they were so awkward.”

  Caine swore. When Meaghan raised her eyebrows at him, he grimaced.

  “What?”

  “First I let my family problems take over the speech, and now my jealousy’s coming along for the ride.” Caine shut his eyes and leaned back in his chair. Then he cracked one eye open. “Can I try again? I think I can do a better job of the speech this time.”

  “Which one?” Meaghan’s heart felt like it was about to leap out of her chest. She wasn’t sure whether it was nerves, or excitement.

  Caine leaned forward. His chair legs clacked on the floor. He put his elbows on the table and locked eyes with Meaghan.

  “Meaghan, I—”

  The restaurant door banged. “Dinner!” Hannah caroled, sidling between the long tables with a plate balanced on each hand. Terence trundled along behind her, his arms stacked with plates.

  “You did say ‘everything’, doll.” Hannah winked at Caine as she deposited the first two plates and then started unloading Terence. “And business is down so we have a lot of extra this week that needs eating up. I hope you’re hungry!”

  “Starved.” Caine was still staring straight at Meaghan, but his gaze wavered as the table filled with food. “Is this all for us?”

  “You did order everything,” Meaghan reminded him.

  When Hannah and Terence were gone, Meaghan’s mind lurched back to what Caine had been saying. She licked her lips.

  Jealousy? But… first, there’s no way Hannah’s been trying to set me up with any of her grandsons. She’s just… generally grandmotherly. And even if she had been… if Caine was jealous of that… then that means…

  Meaghan’s mouth was dry. She cleared her throat.

  “So,” Caine said, his eyes glittering in the firelight. “About that speech…”

  “You really feel jeal—you really think people here like me?” Meaghan winced.

  She’d almost said it. Why hadn’t she? She always jumped in. Pushed in. Threw herself at whatever bad decision came into her head. So why was she shying away from talking to Caine about his “jealousy”?

  “I do.”

  Meaghan met his gaze. His eyes were clear and warm.

  “Well you’re wrong.” Meaghan rubbed her eyes and looked away. “Maybe they liked me for a while. These last few months have fixed that.”

  “Your investigations into all the ‘accidents’?” Caine’s eyebrows drew together. He balanced his chin on one fist, leaning forward, all his attention on Meaghan. She squirmed under it.

  “Yeah.”

  Meaghan waited for a wave of relief at avoiding the whole “jealousy” subject, but it didn’t come. She stared at the bubbles popping in her glass of champagne.

  “When I first moved here, everyone was so welcoming. But as soon as I started talking about how I thought there was something weird going on, they all clammed up. And the more they clam up the more I feel like there has to be something wrong, something they’re not telling me, and I—”

  She clenched her fists and then let them go, her shoulders sagging.

  “It’s bad. The Puppy Express usually has way more seasonal staff, from what Bob’s said, but it’s just Olly and me this year. Hannah’s had to lay people off. And that’s just two businesses. It’s the same all over town. I’m worried that if no one does anything, then it won’t just be Christmas that’s ruined.”

  “It’ll be all of Pine Valley.”

  Meaghan’s lips parted. She stared at Caine. “That’s right!”

  He sees what I see. And he’s not looking at me like I’m crazy. He’s looking at me like he’s—

  Her phone chimed. She pulled it out of her pocket, her cheeks burning. “It’s Jackson.”

  “Aren’t you going to answer?”

  Meaghan snorted. “Jackson knows better than to call me, after the first ten times I talked his ear off about my ghost gang conspiracy. He’s sent a text.”

  She held her phone across the table Caine read out:

  “Sleigh safe. Forest safe. Olly says how is dinner.” He raised his eyebrows. “Man of few words, isn’t he?”

  “Wait, Olly’s with him?” Meaghan snatched her phone back. “Does that mean—because they’d be perfect together, and… no. I am not going to text him about it. Or her. Or…” Her eyes widened. “He said ‘Forest safe’. He wouldn’t say that unless there was a possibility it wasn’t safe. If he thought there was nothing to worry about, he would have made it into a joke, or not said anything.”

  “He thinks whoever took the dogs is dangerous.”

  “If I can convince him that it’s not just today, that everything that happened before now is connected—” Meaghan’s fingers were already flying over the screen.

  Caine put his hand over hers. His fingers were warm.

  “You really want to risk interrupting their date?”

  The slight emphasis on the word ‘their’ made Meaghan pause.

  Their date.

  Or… our date?

  She gulped.

  “Maybe I should… hold off. For now?” she stuttered. “Um. We should eat, and come up with a plan, and… talk.”

  Caine’s eyes gleamed. He lifted his glass and clinked it against hers.

  “To talking.”

  “And not running in and messing things up before they’re even had a chance to start.”

  Like… whatever this is, she thought. This not even a maybe… date.

  7

  Caine

  Caine’s mind was whirring. Without his demon constantly taking up half of his attention, he felt more clear-headed than ever. Like a new man.

  Unfortunately, one of the things his clear-headedness was making obvious was that Meaghan’s tendency to throw herself at things didn’t include him. At least, not now that she no longer suspected him of being a dog-napper.

  She seemed interested. He thought. Or maybe it was just that he hoped she did.

  A year out of the dating scene and I’m rusty as hell, he thought glumly.

  “Mmf.”

  Caine groaned and closed his eyes. Time was running out for him to figure out whether Meaghan felt the same way about him as he did about her. They were halfway back to his ski cottage, and every time the truck lumbered over a pothole or around a tricky corner, Meaghan made that tiny squeak-grunt that went straight down his spine to… pla
ces that weren’t particularly well-disguised by his flimsy sweatpants.

  He cleared his throat and adjusted his position as much as he could, crammed into the passenger seat. The headlights illuminated something ahead.

  “Watch out—pothole.”

  “Got it.” Meaghan yanked on the steering wheel. “Mmf. What were you saying?”

  “Does the Puppy Express have CCTV?”

  “What, like security cameras? Why—” Meaghan gasped and hauled on the steering wheel again. “Of course! If there’s footage of the assholes who stole the dogs. Which… I probably should have checked out, before I went haring off into the woods. Or at least asked Olly for some descriptions.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t.”

  “So you keep insisting…” Meaghan glanced at him, her honey-colored eyes half-suspicious, half-amused.

  Amused. Caine’s heart leapt. That was better than a glare, wasn’t it?

  “Why are you so interested, anyway? You with the FBI or something?” She’d said it jokingly, but then her eyes widened. “Oh my God… you’re not, are you?”

  Caine laughed. “Oh no. Nothing so grand. But I did used to work as a private investigator. And before you start thinking smoky nightclubs and trench coats, I was more the spend-three-weeks-poring-over-building-permits-in-the-city-records sort of investigator.”

  “No battles of wits with sexy femmes fatales?”

  “Not until tonight.”

  Meaghan’s mouth dropped open. She shut it quickly, but her eyes were shining in a way that gave Caine hope.

  “Well, um. Huh. So, is that what brought you here? You’re going to spend Christmas squinting at old records? Wait. You said ‘building consents’. You’re not with all those property investors who’ve been sniffing around, are you?”

  “I’m not here with anyone.” Property investors. Huh. Another piece of the puzzle?

  “They were all over the place when I first moved here. I ended up sleeping on Olly’s sofa for a while because there were literally no spare rooms in town. Uh, and because I showed up at her house with all my stuff.”

 

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