by Debbie Mason
“I’ve had better, thanks,” Caine said as he entered the store. With its warm, honey-colored wood floors, shelves, and walls and a potbellied stove sitting in the middle of the store, he felt like he’d walked back in time. A time when people looked out for their neighbors and knew one another’s kids by name, which meant the older man probably had a fairly good idea who he was.
“I imagine you have.” The man nodded with a mischievous grin. “Why don’t you tell old Santa your troubles and see if I can’t grant you an early Christmas wish or two?”
“I’m hoping you can help me with one at least. I need rat traps.”
“I can indeed help you out with that. But if the traps are for who I think they are, you’ll need to do better. They’ve had a problem with rats at Holiday House for as long as I can remember.”
On one hand, Caine was glad to hear his grandmother wasn’t responsible, while on the other hand, Santa looked like he had a few years on him, so if Holiday House had a rat problem as long as he could remember, Caine should probably forget the traps and call in the experts.
“Evie thinks she has mouse in the house. I didn’t have the heart to tell her she had a bigger problem than that. I guess it doesn’t really matter now though. Unless she beats you.” The older man winked.
“So you do know who I am.”
“Not much goes on in Harmony Harbor that I don’t know about.” He offered his hand. “Tommy O’Malley. And I’ll be honest with you, I’m rooting for Evie. I’ll do whatever I can to help her win your bet. She’s got a heart of gold and does more for this town than anyone I know.”
Afraid Mr. O’Malley was going to list all of Evangeline’s accomplishments, Caine said, “She seems like a nice woman. Now, about those traps…”
“Regular traps won’t do you any good. Noelle, Evie’s great-aunt, she got rid of the beta rats. What you’re dealing with now is the alphas. They’re cunning buggers and about yea big.” He spread his hands.
“Bigger. I’ve seen two of the cunning buggers, and I don’t wish to further our acquaintance.”
“Oh, but I hear home in your voice, lad. And it is a lovely sound.”
“I heard it in yours when you were talking to the ladies.” He nodded at the two women who were perusing the shelves of Christmas lights toward the back of the store.
“At my age, you’ll use whatever you can to charm the ladies,” he said with a chuckle, then walked to the long wooden sales counter and picked up the phone. “Mrs. Crenshaw, the lady who lives behind the store, she has just what you need.” He held up a gnarled finger as he waited for someone to pick up the other end. “Lettie, do you still have that cat trapped in your shed?”
A muffled voice responded and Mr. O’Malley nodded. “I’ve got someone who’s going to take it off your hands. I’ll send him over to you now. You’ll know him when you see him. City boy. Slick clothes and a handsome face. Too young for you.” He listened, then laughed and disconnected. “Might be safer if you get the cat for yourself. I’ll let you out the back door and point you in the right direction. Just in case you still have some beta rats, I’ll get you a couple of those electronic rat traps.”
Two hundred dollars later, Caine met Mr. O’Malley in the back alley. The older man walked with him to the shed. “You ready?” he asked before opening the door.
Caine looked around. “Is there a reason why Mrs. Crenshaw keeps her cat locked in the shed?” he asked, thinking it was a question he should have thought to ask earlier.
“He’s not hers. He’s a stray. He keeps getting in her garbage and making a mess of things.”
Learning the animal was a stray gave him pause. This would make the second stray he’d taken in in less than a week. Remembering that it wasn’t him but Ms. Christmas who would be taking in the cat, he smiled. It seemed only fair after the problems she’d caused him—and continued to cause him—that she suffered a little.
“We call him Bruiser,” Mr. O’Malley told him while sliding open the rusted green door. And out walked the ugliest cat Caine had ever seen. He had a pug face and half a right ear. Patches of his ginger fur were missing, and he had a crooked tail.
“What do you think?” Mr. O’Malley asked.
“That he’ll terrify the rats,” Caine said as he ran his eyes over the cat. “Do you have any animal supplies? I have a feeling I’ll need something to take care of fleas.”
After parting with another two hundred dollars for cat supplies, Caine found a parking spot just up from Holiday House. Once he got his bag of traps and another bag of animal supplies out of the car, he picked up the crate that Bruiser unhappily sat in. “Sorry, mate, but until you’ve had a bath, I’m not carrying you.”
Holding the crate and a bag in one hand, Caine tucked the other bag under his chin to open the door to Holiday House.
“Rat!” someone cried, and several women began to shriek.
“I don’t think there’s cause to call me names,” Caine said, thinking the women were referring to him until he spotted an actual rat tearing through the store with Max tearing after it. Feck! Caine let the door go, effectively trapping the rat in the store with fifteen terrified and screaming women and one hyperactive golden retriever.
Chapter Nine
Evie’s relief upon seeing Caine arrive at the front door of her shop made her weak from her head to her toes. My hero, she thought from her wobbly perch on the stool behind the sales counter. She didn’t have the heart to berate herself. How could she? Their gorgeous white knight was about to save them from a rat the size of a cat and her shop from Max, who’d just taken out a table and one of her customers.
“It’s okay. Look, Caine is…” she began to call out in an attempt to calm the screaming women and draw their attention to the man opening the front door. Wait. What’s he doing? “Open the door!” she yelled as he let it swing closed, blocking the rat’s escape route, which the rat proved by bouncing off the glass.
Caine jumped back from the door.
“Seriously? You’re six foot four and built like a linebacker and you’re afraid of a rat?” she shouted, waving her hands to get his attention. “Open the door!” Even if he did, she didn’t know if it would matter since the rat was now headed her way. “Seamus, open the back door!” she cried, praying the man wasn’t a scaredy-cat like his nephew and standing on her kitchen table.
She looked down at herself. Okay, so she wasn’t one to talk. For all she knew, Caine had seized on the rat situation as the perfect opportunity to chase her and her customers away for good.
“It’s okay, ladies. I’ve got this,” Evie shouted, wincing as a shriek was followed by the sound of shattering glass. She grabbed on to the sales counter for balance as she began her awkward descent off the stool. As though cheering for Evie when her feet touched the wood-planked floor, Santa ho, ho, ho-ed. She turned her head in time to see the door open and what appeared to be a cat, a sumo cat with half an ear and patches of missing fur, stalk into the store.
Several women didn’t appear to like the look of the cat any better than the rat and screamed.
“Go get him, Bruiser,” a familiar voice said.
She didn’t find his accent quite so fascinating now, she thought as their gazes locked across the shop. He grimaced, holding open the door for the four women running terrified onto the sidewalk. Two of whom forgot their terror when they recognized the man holding the door and pressed their angels on him. Evie figured they didn’t realize he’d been the one to trap them inside with the rat.
Another crash and what sounded like a dozen screams drew her back to the disaster at hand. Max and the rat had brought down the angel tree. Apropos, she thought. When they veered to the right, heading for a table of ceramic nativity sets, Evie had had enough. She strode from behind the counter and shouted, “Max, sit. Stay!”
When he did exactly what he was told, she wished she’d thought of it sooner. But as a flash of ginger darted past her, she realized him obediently staying put had nothing to
do with her. Max had spotted the fat cat. So had the rat.
Seamus appeared with a broom in his hand, his hair plastered to his flushed and sweaty face. “Sorry, lass. I didn’t mean to let them out of the basement.”
“There’s more than him?” Her voice went up a panicked octave as she pointed at the rat trying to burrow its way under the stairs to escape the cat.
“Aye. I got the other one.” His gaze followed her finger, and he reared back. “What the bloody hell is that?”
“My hero,” Evie said when Bruiser pounced on the rat.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a cat as ugly as that one.”
“Heroes don’t always have a pretty face. In my experience, it’s often the villain who does,” she said, casting a pointed glance at the man sidestepping broken cranberry glass to walk toward them.
Caine gave her a look. “I’m hardly the villain in the piece, Ms. Christmas.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“A good businessman does not a villain make, a point you’ll no doubt stubbornly argue with your usual tasteful remarks, so I’ll just say I’m not the villain in this piece.” He held up two bags and an animal crate. “I was coming to your rescue. And may I point out that I brought Bruiser.” He watched the cat walking away with the rat and shuddered. “Uncle, perhaps you could intervene.”
“Boyo, I think it’s time we talked about a raise.” Seamus smiled at the ladies who were huddled in a corner of the store. “I’ll have this taken care of in no time at all, and you can get back to your shopping.” He glanced at Evie. “Perhaps some refreshments are in order, lass. I’ll take mine with an added pick-me-up, if you know what I mean.”
“That’s a great idea, Seamus. I should have thought of it.” But right then she was preoccupied with the state of Holiday House. “How could a rat and a dog do this much damage in less than five minutes?” she asked no one in particular.
“Why don’t you get the refreshments, and I’ll get started cleaning up out here?” Caine offered, handing her the bags and the crate.
“Thank you. That’s kind of you to offer. Max, come here, boy,” she called to the dog, who remained sitting by the stairs, before she glanced at her now loaded-down hands. “Why are you giving me the crate? Bruiser is your cat.”
Caine laughed, and she couldn’t help but notice the funny things that deep rumble was doing to her stomach. But she had no problem ignoring the butterflies when he opened his mouth and said, “No, he’s not. He’s yours.”
“No way. I can’t. Someone pawned”—she lowered her voice as her dog came to her side—“Max off on me. I can’t take in another animal. Especially now.”
“You’re right. I didn’t think about what you’d do with them when you lose Holiday—” He grimaced, then said, “I better get started out here.”
“That’s not it at all. I have no intention of losing our bet, Mr. Elliot. And if my mother weren’t moving in with me for a couple of weeks, I’d take Bruiser.” The poor thing looked like he could use some love.
“Lenore is moving in with you? Nothing’s the matter, is it?”
Her mouth dropped at the familiarity in his voice. “Oh my gosh, I should have known. You’ve been talking to her, haven’t you?”
“We’ve spoken, yes,” he said, looking uncomfortable.
“About me? Her foolish daughter who doesn’t have a lick of business sense? You’re just like her with your logical, mathematical intelligence. Well, let me tell you, Mr. Elliot, I have more intrapersonal intelligence than you and my mother combined.”
“I’m sure you do. But perhaps you should get your emotions in check and go use your superlative intrapersonal skills on your customers before you lose them.”
“You are just like her,” she huffed, barely stopping herself from stomping her foot. “Being emotional is not a sign of weakness, Mr. Elliot. Nor is owning a business that celebrates the holidays year-round a sign of no business sense or a person with a Pollyanna approach to life.”
“I never said—”
“No, but I’m sure you’ve thought it.” Catching his eyes shift up to the right, she stabbed her finger at him. “You have! And don’t bother denying it. You just gave yourself away.”
As though seeking patience, he drew in a deep breath through his nostrils. A habit her mother had once been noted for when dealing with Evie and her father.
“Take care of the refreshments, and I’ll take care of cleanup and your customers, who appear to be waiting for me, not you.” Caine put his hands on her shoulders, turning her toward the kitchen.
She glanced over her shoulder. The women had righted the angel tree and were clutching their paper angels while looking their way. Caine’s way, she corrected. And tried not to resent their easy defection. Did no one remember that he was the man trying to put her out of business? She supposed she couldn’t blame them. He was ridiculously handsome and ridiculously rich. But it wasn’t his face or his bank account that caused a tiny softening of her anger toward him. He’d brought her a cat and rat traps and a flea bath, she thought, as she glanced in the bags.
She put the bags on the kitchen counter, steeling herself to look at the basement door. She needn’t have worried. Bruiser had made himself at home in front of the door. She sighed, knowing she couldn’t get rid of him now. Nor Max, who lay beneath the kitchen table eyeing the cat with trepidation. It was clear who would rule the roost at Holiday House.
Evie pulled out her phone and called Truly Scrumptious. “Mackenzie, I have an emergency.”
“I heard.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Four of your customers ran in here half-hysterical. They’re having coffee and cupcakes to relieve their trauma, or relive it as the case may be. Once they’re finished, I’ll ask them to do me a favor and bring your order to you. Then it’s up to you to keep them there, girlfriend. Although if Caine Elliot is there, you shouldn’t have a problem. It’s a good thing he got there in time. They said your shop would have been trashed if he hadn’t arrived when he did.”
Evie took her phone from her ear and stared at it. She had to be joking. “You’re joking?”
“About what?”
“Nothing.” It would take too long to explain, and she’d probably sound ungrateful when she got to the part about Bruiser and the rat traps and Caine tidying up her store—she tilted her head at the sexy rumble of laughter coming from her shop—and entertaining her customers. “Your plan is perfect. Thanks so much, Mackenzie.”
“No problem. I have an adorable hero cupcake I’ll send for Caine. Tell him thanks for looking out for our girl.”
“Handsome men get away with murder,” Evie muttered as she pulled a pot from the cupboard.
“You can’t be talking about Mr. Ugly over there, so I imagine it’s my nephew putting the puss on your face,” Seamus said as he closed the back door. “I can set your mind at ease on one count. He gets away with plenty, especially with the ladies, but murder isn’t one of them. And while he has no problem omitting the truth, he’ll tell it to you if you ask him straight out. But be careful if you do—he’s blunt.” Seamus came to stand beside her, turning on the tap to wash his hands. As the women’s laughter floated into the kitchen, he chuckled. “Caine has a way, he does. I’ll wager you each and every one of those women buy something before they leave.”
“I’d take your bet, but it wouldn’t be fair. They only came in to put a wish on the angel tree. But even if they had planned to shop, it would be a little hard for a man who doesn’t like Christmas to sell them anything. Customers pick up on your passion and enthusiasm, you know. They can tell when someone is faking it.”
“Evangeline, could you give me a hand up here? I’m not sure how to ring a sale through,” Caine said from where he stood at the entrance to the kitchen.
Seamus lightly elbowed her in the ribs, his eyes glinting with suppressed laughter. “You go ahead, lass. I’ll take care of the hot chocolate.”
* * *
Caine should ha
ve volunteered to mop the floor after closing instead of giving Bruiser a bath.
“I’m warning you, don’t come in here, Evangeline. The animal is either rabid or possessed,” Caine said through the closed bathroom door on the second floor.
“Or terrified. I heard you yelling at him from downstairs, Caine. If we weren’t closed, you would have terrified the customers too.”
He reached up from where he sat on the floor by the door and turned the knob. “Does he look bloody terrified to you?”
Evangeline peeked her head around the door. “Um, no, but he doesn’t look possessed or rabid either,” she said of the cat, who sat on the windowsill yawning. Then Evangeline’s gaze dropped to Caine, and her eyes went wide. “What happened to you?”
“He did,” Caine said, dabbing at the red and raised scratches on his arm.
“You’re bleeding, and you’re soaking wet.”
“I got soaked trying to bathe him in the tub, and when that didn’t work, I held him under the shower. Which is when he shredded my shirt and arm.”
She knelt beside him and took the cloth from his hand to dab at his cheek. They’d spent almost the entire day together putting the store to rights. At times they’d been as close as they were now, but this felt different. Intimate somehow.
“I have some antibiotic ointment in the first aid kit,” she said, leaning past him to open the cupboard under the sink, and he couldn’t help but notice her shapely backside in her black slacks.
It wasn’t the first time he’d noticed. The woman had a lovely figure. Though she didn’t flaunt it like so many women he knew. It was a nice change.
She turned with a first aid kit in her hands, and he jerked his gaze back to the cat, who meowed. Bruiser locked eyes with him as though warning him off. “I wouldn’t want to run into you in a dark alley, mate. You have a face only a mother could love.”
“I don’t know. He’s mangy and flea-bitten and a little surly, but there’s something sweet about him.” She glanced from the cat back to Caine, a touch of color pinking her cheeks as she took the cloth and began cleaning his forearm. She was gentle, and he liked the way she felt against him. She smelled good too, like oranges and cloves.