Yuletide Hearts

by Ruth Logan Herne

  The hint of color inspired by his banter made him long to touch her cheek. Feel the heat there. Maybe steal a kiss.

  But a gentleman didn’t toy with a lady’s affections, especially a lady who’d been raked over the coals by someone not smart enough to realize how wonderful she was.

  Exactly why he couldn’t step out and act on his feelings. She didn’t need more hurt or heartache, he was pretty sure of that. What she did need was money to cover basic things like food and shelter. One mess-up wouldn’t only cost him great laborers, but it would also cost her the simple basics of life. Home. Heat. Groceries.

  He’d cling to common sense. Help out quietly because he was living there. And try to think of a way to keep his distance, but seeing Callie in her everyday, nonconstruction clothes?

  That image added a whole new level of difficulty to his task.

  He noticed.

  He noticed not.

  He noticed…

  Callie bit back a growl the next day, seriously disgruntled with herself, men in general, Matt in particular.

  A convent would be so much easier.

  “Callie, your level’s off.”

  She jerked straight and eyed her bubble, chagrined. “Sorry, boss.”

  “No big deal. You feeling all right?”

  Ignore the concern in his voice and the look on his face that says you matter. Trust me, you don’t, except as a means to an end which is getting these roofs in place now that the rain has passed. “Fine. Just thinking.”

  “Stop that, okay?”

  Eyes down, she nodded, knowing he was joking but unable to reciprocate. “Won’t happen again.”

  He stopped nailing and whistling, the sudden silence making them seem like the only two people on Earth, but that was silly because her father, Jim and Buck were on the opposite side of the street installing underlayment over the plywood roofing on the last house.

  “Hey.” He moved closer and bent low. “You okay, Cal?”

  “Yes, thanks for asking.”

  He didn’t tease her back, didn’t chuck her on the shoulder, didn’t take the bait. “You sure?”

  “Quite. And busy. How ’bout you?”

  He touched a hand to her shoulder, a simple gesture of friendship, so why did it feel as if he was ready to lay down his jacket over the puddles in her life?

  Too many puddles, not enough Carhartt.

  Finch McGee’s van pulled in, followed by Amanda Slaughter. Matt paused at the ladder and caught her eye. “It’s almost worth not having coffee to avoid him.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” She waited one beat, then two, eyeing the ladder. “Are you waiting for me to go first?”

  Matt shook his head, his gaze thoughtful, then inclined his gaze toward Finch’s truck. “Does he ever bother you, Cal? I mean, really bother you?”

  She hid the part of her that longed to bask in his concern because Callie knew what Matt meant by “bother.” “Matt, I might have been army to your marine credentials, but I can usually take care of myself. I am trained in mortal combat, remember?”

  “And I’d welcome a personal demonstration sometime,” he quipped back, but the hand to her shoulder returned. “If anyone ever pesters you, I’ve got your back, okay?”

  “It’s not like they’re lining up on the street, marine.” She stepped onto the ladder in front of him and shot him a disbelieving look.

  “A situation I haven’t been able to figure out,” he told her as he climbed down after her. “Guys down here aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed.”

  “And here’s a rope to prove it,” Callie muttered as Finch approached. She beelined for the coffee, successfully sidestepping Finch, leaving Matt to deal with him.

  Cowardly?

  No.

  Self-preservation at its finest. For some reason Finch McGee had set his sights on Callie either because she was in financial constraints and possibly an easy target, or he wanted to make a full one-eighty away from his blonde, petite ex-wife.

  Either way, she wasn’t interested, but he wasn’t an easily discouraged guy.

  She loved that about Matt.

  It annoyed her with Finch.

  “Things are really coming along.” Amanda noted as she handed Callie an insulated cup. “You guys have done a great job and Jim said he’s never worked with a better crew.”

  “Back at ya.” Callie raised her cup, sniffed and smiled. “I love that you buy me girly coffee with flavored creamers. That makes my day. You know that, right?”

  Amanda leaned alongside the truck and watched as Jim joined Matt and the building inspector. “We girls have to stick together. And protect our men from snakes in the grass.”

  Callie didn’t have to follow her look to know it embraced McGee. “Except I don’t have a man, so we’ll join forces to protect yours.”

  Eyes forward, Amanda sipped her coffee and grinned. “You keep telling yourself that, honey. According to my husband, aka Mr. Obtuse, Matt Cavanaugh can’t keep his eyes off you.”

  Callie stretched out her flannel covered arm. Worn, faded flannel at that. She swept her working attire a disparaging look. “Are ya kiddin’ me?”

  “Good men see beyond what we wear.”

  Callie made a face. “That sounds so wrong.”

  Amanda laughed. “It did, kind of, but you know what I mean. They see our heart. Our soul.”

  “You’re watching that Tender November romance series on PBS, aren’t you?”

  Amanda didn’t confess, but she did sigh. “Brontes. Austen. Alcott.”

  “No wonder you’re twitterpated.” Callie dipped her chin as the men headed their way. “Let’s ix-nay the omance-ray, okay?”

  “If you insist.”

  “Oh, I do.” Callie straightened as Matt reached across for the coffee bearing his initials.

  “Thanks, Amanda.”

  “You’re welcome. Finch, I’m sorry, I’d have grabbed you a coffee if I’d known you were going to be here.”

  “Just had one, thanks.” Finch’s expression and tone eased up as he answered Amanda, then hardened again as he indicated his reason for stopping by. The one that didn’t include checking out Callie. “I wanted to make sure those berms were re-covered with tarp and straw. Topsoil doesn’t grow on trees.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Amanda agreed.

  Amanda’s straight face only strengthened Callie’s urge to laugh. Jake’s school bus rumbled down the road, its caution lights flashing, a perfect diversion. “I’ll be right back,” she said to Matt with a wave toward Jake. “And I’ll bring Jake over for cleanup.”

  She wasn’t quite quick enough because Finch managed to fall into step beside her as she headed for the road. Figuring she’d lose him at his truck, a shot of dismay hit her when he didn’t open the door and get in. No, he stayed alongside her, giving him ample opportunity to talk when the last thing she wanted to do was listen.

  “I miss seeing you at the diner.”

  Face first, eyes forward. “I love what I’m doing here, though. If this could last forever, I’d be a happy girl.”

  “Lots of ways to find happiness, Callie.”

  Just when she thought she’d have to turn around and slug him in the solar plexus, Matt appeared alongside them. “Those notes for number seventeen are still on Hank’s desk, right?”

  Thank you, God. And thank you, Matt. “They are, yes. Would you like me to get them?” Please say no. Please say you’ll get them yourself and walk me to the house.

  “I’ll grab them. I’m going to have the plumbing and electricity inspected before we apply the drywall, and I want to familiarize myself with the layout changes your dad made.”

  “Like the built-in bookshelves in each bedroom?”

  “Exactly that. So, Mr. McGee? Is Wednesday good for you?”

  Matt stopped along the road, his presence an obvious wrench in the other man’s works.

  Finch stopped, faltered, then nodded. “And you know I’m a stickler for code, right,
Cavanaugh?”

  The way Finch used Matt’s last name, coupled with his caustic tone, made Callie want to give him a good, swift kick.

  But nothing got inhabited without Finch’s signature. Ticking off the building inspector who was also a zoning agent wouldn’t be in anyone’s best interest. He’d already shown disrespect for Matt, and that tweaked Callie’s protective instincts because Finch had no cause. The people who moved into these sweet homes wouldn’t have to worry that the builder cut corners. So why was Finch nailing Matt with a glare? Because of her?

  Ridiculous.

  “And I appreciate that, Mr. McGee.” Matt kept his tone level, but there was no mistaking granite for anything else. He’d be polite because they were professionals, but his voice and stance said he didn’t back down. Ever.

  Finch drew a hint closer, just a smidge, as if trying to intimidate Matt. Not much intimidated a marine. Callie loved that.

  “Mom!”

  “Go get changed, Jake.” Callie called across the two-lane road. “We’re coming.”

  “Wednesday, Cavanaugh.”

  Matt nodded as if Finch weren’t acting like a first-class bully, then headed toward the street with Callie.

  “He was a jerk to you.”

  Matt glanced both ways before heading across. “Who cares?”

  “I do.”

  “Aw.” He slowed his step and shoulder-nudged her, an easy grin erasing the whispered pain she’d seen with Finch’s tone. His words. But nothing bothered Matt, right?

  “I knew you cared, Cal. Thanks for admitting it.”

  “I care about seeing a friend get rudely dismissed by a guy who shouldn’t be washing your bootstraps.”

  “As I have done for others, so you should do.” Matt settled a gentle look on her. “Christ washed the apostles’ feet and told them to humble themselves. Humility isn’t a bad thing.”

  “I don’t think he was talking about Finch McGee.”

  Matt caught her arm just outside the door. “Sure he was. To a point.” He shifted his gaze to Cobbled Creek Lane where Finch waited for a car to pass before heading back toward Jamison. “His words can’t hurt me, Callie. His actions can. And in the interest of time and funding, I’ll let his rudeness slide. If we get this section done and sold and go on to Phase Two of the subdivision, then I’ll ask to have Colby Dennis oversee our work.”

  He said “our work” like it was a given. Callie choked back a surge of anticipation because nothing was a given these days in home-building. Matt had taken a big risk by buying Cobbled Creek. She prayed daily that all would go well, although that hadn’t come close to working in her father’s case.

  Oh, honey, I think the answer to your prayers is about eight inches from you, front and center.

  Callie hushed her inner voice, but not before heat climbed to her face as they headed inside.

  “You blushing, Cal?”

  “Exertion.”

  A knowing grin set the laugh lines around Matt’s gorgeous brown eyes a little deeper. “Coffee drinking is hard work.” He took in her cup and her heated cheeks with a swift look of amusement. “So.” He glanced around, the sound of Jake getting ready punctuated by things hitting the floor above them. “What did you come over here for?”

  “To avoid Finch.”

  He burst out laughing and grabbed her in a hug, a spontaneous and wonderful two-arms-wrapped-around-you kind of hug that couldn’t have been more perfect if he’d tried.

  Until his laughter paused. His arms tightened, the grip different. Wonderfully different.

  Should she look up at him?

  Yes.

  No.

  But she did because there was no way she couldn’t look up. Gaze into those coffee-no-cream eyes. See the look of gentle awareness there, the strength of a good man, a man who talked of washing feet and building homes, a man who walked with God and fellow soldiers.

  “Callie…”

  He whispered her name about the same time he feathered a kiss across her lips, the feel of strong, gentle and muscled arms tumbling her into a world of possibilities she hadn’t dreamed feasible in a long time.

  “Mom! Do you know where my thick socks are?”

  Callie stepped back, joy and chagrin vying for emotional space. “Try the laundry basket in the hall.”

  “Got ’em!”

  “Good.”

  “Very good.” Matt whispered agreement and stroked one finger across the intensified heat in her cheeks. “I’d apologize, ma’am, but I’m not a bit sorry.”

  “No?”

  “Oh, no.” He stepped back as Jake’s racing footfall announced his eager approach. “I had to know.”

  Know?

  Oh, man.

  “Ready, guys. I’ve got my stuff.” Jake patted his waist where a smaller version of their belts held a boy-sized set of tools, his hard hat clutched tight in the other hand.

  “You know you’re on cleanup, right?” Callie sent his tool belt a hiked-brow look. “You probably won’t need those today.”

  Jake’s face fell. His lower lip hinted a quiver. “At all?”

  “Not today, bud, but how about you work with me on Thanksgiving while Mom cooks?”

  “Who said I’m cooking?” Callie drew herself up to her full height and met Matt’s gaze straight on. “Why is it the girl gets elected to cook while the guys play with power tools?”

  Matt’s look of surprise said she got him. “I just thought—”

  “You thought wrong.” Callie waved a hand toward the kitchen behind them and figured they might as well get this straight. “I cook because I have to. I build because I can’t not build. There’s a difference, Matt.”

  “There is.” He contemplated her, made a face and ran a hand across the back of his head. “But it is Thanksgiving, so someone has to cook, right? Maybe we can break it down? Do different jobs?”

  She smiled, nodded and whacked his arm. “Now you’re talkin’, marine. And if we order pies from the bakery, that’s one more thing I don’t have to do.”

  Matt wasn’t about to say that the very thought of homemade pies brought him to his knees. It had been a lot of years since he’d shared a holiday meal with anyone, so the anticipation of joining hands for Thanksgiving around the Marek table had painted a slightly different picture in his head.

  Obviously the wrong one. Therefore… “I’m picking up the turkey tomorrow.” He followed Callie and Jake out the door and down the porch stairs, The General loping alongside them, his shaggy ears keeping time. “We can pick up the pies Thursday morning.”

  “And make stuffing and sweet potatoes Wednesday night.”

  Now things were looking up. “Squash?”

  Callie made a face.

  “Okay, no squash. Jello?”

  “I love Jello!” Jake fist-pumped that idea.

  “One yes takes the prize on that one. Rolls?”

  “Same bakery we get the pies from.”

  “Gravy?”

  “Dad makes the best gravy known to humankind.”

  Matt ran the list through his head and nodded, surprised. “So we can actually all work on Thursday morning.”

  “Now you’re getting it.” Callie grinned up at him, her friendly smile ignoring the sweet kiss they’d just shared while his heart was counting the possible moments until they might share kiss number two.

  His phone rang. McGee’s number flashed in the display box, reminding Matt of why he couldn’t pursue this delightful road with Callie while he let the call go to voice mail. Reason number one jogged ahead of them, the dog keeping pace.

  Callie thought she knew him. She knew the improved version. No way would a strong, forthright woman like Callie want the old version around her kid. Her home. Her life.

  Hank knew. Matt understood that.

  But Callie didn’t have a clue. That was evident in her easy manner. The calm, admiring looks she’d shift his way as the houses began to come together.

  No doubt Hank was waiting for Matt to tell
her. And he’d do that soon. Better to have this out in the open than let worry fritter away his heart, his soul. He had enough of that after seeing Katie, knowing he had to face her, another confrontation he needed to schedule.

  Once the roofs were on and the windows in, he’d face his past with both women. Not wanting to do a job didn’t get a man out of that job. Not a marine, anyway.

  The houses should be sealed by the first Sunday of Advent. Then he’d switch gears and concentrate on completing the model, starting with the kitchen cabinets he hoped to put in on Thursday and Friday when they’d be low on help. By Saturday, Jim would be back to work, and Tom, too.

  “Lost you, marine.”

  He sent her a quick look of apology. “Planning. Strategizing.”

  She nodded, having no clue that his plans might very well disrupt their working relationship. Once Callie realized the guy flirting with her had been a teenaged con, a whole lot of things would most likely change. The thoughts of that kiss, of seeking a different bond that went beyond work?

  That would probably tank as well, but he’d be unfair to take this further without Callie’s awareness, and Matt had vowed to never be unfair again.

  Chapter Nine

  “This is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen, bud.” Matt finished positioning stakes meant to tether the wood-sculpted Holy Family into place on Wednesday night, then motioned Jake left. “Shall we turn on the spotlights, see what we’ve got?”

  “Just make sure they’re centered, or Mom will move ’em.”

  “Got it. See if anybody else wants to watch the lighting ceremony.”

  Jake dashed up the porch steps, calling for Hank and Callie while Matt stepped back, eyeing left, then right. Centered.

  Then he examined the spotlight positions, knowing that could slant the image.

  Also centered.

  He smiled. Callie liked things focused. Symmetrical.

  So did he.

  She loved building. Climbing ladders. Working rooftops. Ditto.

  As Callie and Hank crossed the yard with Jake, Matt wondered what it would be like to be part of this family, a plan he’d never allowed himself. But at this moment, with these people, the vision seemed attainable.