Hunk for the Holidays (30 page)

Then everyone joined in.

“You really love her! You really love her!”

James woke up. Something
was
choking him. He pulled the cat off his neck before he looked around the sunlit room. His breath was ragged. His heart rate elevated. And his body sweat-drenched. But, fortunately, there were no pink bunnies or burning trees. No chanting Sierra. No sexy Cassie.

No smiling mother in a tattered robe.

Just James.

Alone.

Again.

Pushing the blanket off, he looked down at his watch.

Ten a.m.?

He felt as if he’d slept for only a few hours, all drained and sore. No doubt from sleeping on the couch. Or the weird night. Or the even weirder dream. Whatever it was, all he wanted to do was crawl back in bed and sleep for another eight hours. And why couldn’t he? He had nowhere he needed to be. Nothing he needed to do. At least, nothing that couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

Slowly, he rolled off the couch and headed to his room. Except once there, he stood in the doorway and stared at the rumpled bed that he hadn’t made since a certain raven-haired beauty had bewitched him in it. The pillow still held the imprint of her head, and the robe she borrowed still lay on the floor by his chair.

James turned away. The guest room would be better. He wanted to try out the new bed anyway. He didn’t want his dad and Marge to sleep on a crappy mattress when they came to visit. Not that he had ever invited them to visit. But he would. In fact, he would call them today. As soon as he had a few more hours’ sleep.

On the way to the guest bathroom, he stripped down to his boxer briefs, unconcerned with the trail of clothing he left behind. As he stood in front of the toilet, he decided he would invite his entire family for New Year’s. He’d even send them tickets. With all his frequent-flyer miles, he could send them tickets every couple months if he wanted to. And he wanted to. Family was important, and he needed to spend more time with his. He might not have a pretty wife and two cute kids like the fireman, but he had a great dad and a nice stepmom and a typical teenage stepbrother. It was more than a lot of people had.

He walked into the guest room and crawled into the queen-sized bed with its new scratchy sheets. Willie jumped up next to him, and James had to admit he was thankful for the company. He lay there with one arm tucked beneath his head and stared up at the sunlight that danced across the ceiling. He wasn’t angry anymore. In fact, he didn’t feel anything. Just kind of empty. It reminded him of the feelings he’d experienced right after his mother’s death. The tired emptiness that came once all the anger drained away. And he
had
been angry when his mother died. Angry at his father for not taking better care of her. Angry at his mother for not fighting harder to live. Angry at God for taking her. But mostly, angry at himself for loving her so much that losing her made his life not worth living.

The room grew hotter and even kicking the covers down to his feet didn’t stop the sweat from breaking out on his brow. How long had it been since he had thought about his mother? Not just in passing, but really thought about her?

Without much invitation, the memories swarmed around him, ghosts of Christmas past: His mother standing in her worn bathrobe in the doorway of their house as he rode by on his brand-new bike. The smell of her perfume when she hugged him for giving her the lopsided coffee mug he’d made in school. The sound of her laughter when his father had dressed up like Santa and pulled her down on his lap.

She had always laughed so easily. He couldn’t remember the features of her face; they had blurred with time. But her laughter was there, would always be there—sealed inside the walls of his heart. It had been husky and unconfined, and just hearing it made his day.

Similar to Cassandra’s.

Funny, but it didn’t seem like such a stretch to go from thinking about his mother to thinking about Cassandra. Probably because their laughter wasn’t the only thing they had in common. His mother had been just as strong-willed, stubborn, and hot-tempered. She was a loving mother and wife, but when she got mad, both he and his father had run for cover.

James grinned.

His mother probably would’ve set the tree on fire too. Especially if his father treated her like James had treated Cassandra. James had just been so angry. He had expected an apology. Instead, she’d acted as if the only thing she wanted from him was fun sex. But if that was the case, then why bring along a dead Christmas tree?

His mind wandered over the last few days. Bits and pieces of conversation drifted in and out until one came to the forefront.
A tree isn’t a Christmas tree unless you have someone to share it with
.

Suddenly, all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

It wasn’t just a lame gesture. She had been trying to tell him something without coming right out and saying it. If he hadn’t been so angry, he would have read the message, not just in the tree, but in those beautiful green eyes.

Cassandra wanted to share a tree with him. To her, it was a symbol of more than just the season. It was a symbol of family and love. Which was why she didn’t have one. She wasn’t willing to share a tree with just anyone. She was willing to share it only with someone she cared about.

The revelation set James into action. He jumped up from the bed and hurried down the hall, grabbing up his clothes as he went and trying to figure out the fastest way to get to her. Was she at her condo? At church? More than likely with her parents, but he couldn’t go racing over to her parents’ house like a madman. He’d tried that once and look where it got him. This time he didn’t want raving fathers and eavesdropping siblings interrupting them. He wanted to talk with Cassie alone. Which meant he needed to wait for her at her condo. He looked down at his wrinkled clothes. But first he needed a shower.

Then he needed to find a tree.

Chapter Twenty-six

Christmas at the McPherson house was mayhem at its finest. Cassie barely made it in the back door with her bags of gifts before she was greeted by screaming children.

“Aunt Cassie’s here!” Kelsey came charging at her with a toy baby stroller, stopping inches before slamming into Cassie’s legs. “Now we can open presents.”

Kyle grabbed a package out of one of the bags. “Is this one mine? Is it that remote control truck I asked for?”

“Twuck! Twuck!” Little Chase toddled after his brother. Kyle turned and clipped him with the corner of the package, knocking him down. He started to cry, but stopped when a creature in a helmet and lime green and black motocross gear picked him up.

“You’re late.” Cassie’s mother walked up and took Chase from the creature that was having trouble hanging on to the toddler while wearing bulky motorcycle gloves.

“Sorry,” Cassie said. “I slept in.” It surprised her mother as much as it had Cassie. She wasn’t the type who slept in. She was the type who liked to get her day started early. But she had been exhausted. Not only from the late mass, but from a weekend of very little sleep. The restful night had left her more at peace than she’d been in a while.

Or maybe what had her feeling so peaceful was the acceptance of her love for James.

As if reading her mood, her mother smiled and kissed her cheek. “I’m glad you got things settled with James.”

Things weren’t even close to being settled with James. But Cassie had settled things with herself, and that was a step in the right direction.

“Well, let’s get these presents under the tree,” her mother said. “The kids have been chomping at the bit to start unwrapping. You would think that they hadn’t just spent the morning unwrapping presents at their own houses.” She took a bag from Cassie and headed for the twelve-foot Christmas tree that filled an entire corner of the family room.

Within thirty minutes, the room was piled high with crumpled wrapping paper, ribbons, tags, and enough toys to start their own store. Even her brothers had given one another toys and stood clustered around Mattie, waiting their turn, as he tried out his new remote control helicopter.

“They’re really just big kids,” Amy said as she flopped down on the couch next to Cassie. “You should’ve seen how excited Rory was to give Gabby her first lesson on that stupid dirt bike. He rode behind her with his knees practically touching his ears and a big grin on his face.”

Cassie glanced over at Gabby, who still wore the motocross pants and jacket, but had taken off the helmet and gloves to play with the LEGOs Cassie’s father had given her. “She reminds me of myself when I was her age. I loved boy’s toys.”

“And what about your new boy toy?” Amy asked.

Cassie looked back at her and grinned. “I’m working on it.”

“Working on it?” Wheezie came over and sat down on her other side. “It doesn’t look to me like you’re working on it. If you were working on it, you wouldn’t be sitting here.”

“I’m not taking any more of your advice, Wheezie,” Cassie said. “The last advice you gave me caused me nothing but trouble.”

“Hmm?” Wheezie’s eyes crinkled. “Naked always worked for me. Of course, there was that one time when Melanie tried to fix me up with her great-uncle. The old coot couldn’t see a thing. Even with his glasses. So naked hadn’t worked real well with him either.” She tipped her head. “Does Jimmy need glasses?” Amy laughed and her aunt continued. “So you got naked before or after you told him you love him?”

“I didn’t tell him that I love him.” Wheezie started to open her mouth, but Cassie held up a hand. “But I plan to. Just fully clothed.”

“So what are you doing sitting here?”

“Father Thomas said I need to be patient. Besides, it’s Christmas day.”

Wheezie’s forehead knotted. “Father Thomas? What the heck does he know about relationships? Listen to a
woman who’s been around the block a few times. If you sit around too long being patient, that cute man of yours is going to get away. Just ask this one.” She pointed her thumb at Amy.

“She’s right,” Amy said. She glanced over at Rory, who was maneuvering the remote and trying to keep the helicopter from crashing into the painting over the fireplace. “I almost lost your brother because I didn’t stand up for what I wanted. And who cares if it’s Christmas day. Isn’t love what Christmas is all about?”

Cassie stared at the two women as the truth of Amy’s words sank in. What
was
she doing sitting there? She loved James. And what better time to let him know that than on a holiday that was based on love?

Except suddenly she was scared to death.

“But what if he doesn’t feel the same way?” she breathed.

“It’s doubtful,” her aunt said. “Especially with the way he was kissing you in the study.”

Cassie cringed. “A few things have happened since then.”

“It doesn’t matter what happened.” Amy took her hand and squeezed it. “If he really loves you, he’ll forgive you. That’s how it works.” Her gaze locked with Rory’s. Without saying another word, she got up and walked straight into his arms as the helicopter crashed into the wall.

“And what about Dad?” Cassie voiced another fear. “He’s not going to take the news sitting down. Steve Mitchell was right about one thing: Big Al doesn’t listen to anyone but himself.”

“And whose fault is that?” Wheezie said. When Cassie
turned to her in surprise, she continued. “If you’re planning on bringing home that man you love, you’re going to have to learn how to stand up to your father. Otherwise, your life is going to be nothing but hell.” She lifted one penciled-in brow. “You might want to start with telling Big Al how much you hate being an accountant.”

“I’m not an accountant,” Cassie stated. “I’m a vice president.”

“Phssshh.” Her aunt waved a hand in front of her face. “Nothing more than a glorified title.”

“It may be a glorified title, but it’s where Dad needs me. Especially since his heart attack.”

Aunt Wheezie pointed a bony finger at her. “That’s a bunch of crap and you know it, Cassie McPherson. You stay where you are because you’re too afraid to go against the Great Al McPherson.”

The truth struck home with painful accuracy. Cassie
was
afraid of going against her father. The fear wasn’t so much about him having another heart attack as it was about wanting to please him. The thought of not pleasing her father terrified her.

As if reading her thoughts, Wheezie patted her arm and spoke in a voice that was soft and caring. “Cassie, my sweet, you’re a daddy’s girl. You have been ever since you were born. And that was just fine and dandy when you were a child. But it doesn’t work so well for adult women who need to have lives of their own. Adult women who need to fight for the jobs they want and the men they love.”

With her aunt’s words, all the emotions Cassie had experienced in the last few days came crashing in around
her. The weight in her chest dissolved into a heavy wall of tears that worked their way up to the back of her throat. Wheezie’s red silk blouse and cardigan blurred before her eyes as she was enfolded against a tiny chest that smelled of roses.

“I know you love your family and would do anything for us,” her aunt whispered against her head. “But I think it’s time to do something for yourself.”