Yuletide Hearts (13 page)

He gripped her hand, grateful for her forgiveness. Her friendship. “I'm proud of you, Katie.”

“You, too.” She lifted her chin and smiled as the first notes of Cedric's guitar sounded. “And being here with you on a Thanksgiving weekend? Laying all the old drama to rest?” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Matt. God bless you.”

God had blessed him, Matt realized. In so many ways. He smiled and raised her fingers for a kiss. “You, too, Katie.”

 

Jill Calhoun's Facebook pic shouldn't have hurt so much, but it did, and that only meant Callie'd been careless.

But the picture, sent from Jill's cell phone, showing Katie Bascomb kissing Matt, looking sweet, blonde and beautiful made Callie recognize her vulnerability. Obviously she'd misinterpreted Matt's looks, his words, that soul-searching kiss, but was that his fault or hers?

His, she decided. Men shouldn't toy with a woman's affections, and a single mom to boot? Shameful.

Her phone rang a short while later, Jill's number in the display. When she didn't pick up, a text appeared. “Is this the hunk working with you? No wonder you gave up your shifts at the diner! When opportunity knocks…” Jill had inserted a smiley face. “A smart girl's gotta be around to open the door.”

Not so smart when the guy's off kissing someone else, Callie mused. She headed to bed, not wanting to be awake when Matt came home.

This isn't his home,
her conscience stabbed.
It's a convenient place to stay. And that's it.

The internal warning was just what Callie needed, a reminder to step back. Maintain distance. Being independent worked for her. She'd be foolish to forget that. Relationships meant risk, and her responsibility to Jake curtailed those op
portunities. And because Matt was also her boss, and Dad's boss, well…

Time to revert back to what she'd known all along: Don't date the boss. Or flirt with him. Or daydream about forever afters in sweet stone-faced Capes with twinkle lights welcoming you home at Christmas.

She fell asleep with a headache. One that was her fault for letting herself get silly. She knew better, and she'd apply the brakes now. That was best all around.

Knowing that didn't help the headache, though.

T
he smell of fresh coffee roused her early the next morning. She yawned, stretched, then remembered.

Katie and Matt. Kissing.

The headache re-erupted, full-blown.

Ibuprofen for breakfast in that case. She got dressed and headed downstairs, quiet.

“Hey.” Matt's quick smile and pleased salute strengthened the headache's hold. Why had she let herself be so stupid?

“Morning.” She crossed the room, poured coffee and fixed it in the kitchen, looking anywhere but at Matt.

“You okay, Cal?” His evident concern only strengthened the steel rod along her backbone.

“A little headache. Nothing major.”

“Are you getting sick?” He stood and came her way, his closeness offsetting her planned evasive maneuvers.

A plan she was losing because he smelled marvelous. She took a broad step back. “I'm fine. Probably just slept funny.”

“Do you want me to rub your shoulders? Your neck? Is your pillow too soft?”

Like she was about to discuss her pillow with Matt Cavanaugh.
She shrugged him off, grabbed her lined flannel and headed for the door. “It'll work itself out. And I want to get the model cleared up before those buyers arrive. I'll see you over there.”

His gaze followed her out the door, a marine's battlefield
assessment. By the time he joined her in the model, she'd applied a finishing coat to the kitchen walls and was ready to hang kitchen lighting fixtures. “Looks good.”

Two words. That's all he said as he walked through, heading into the family room to apply trim. And his tone said they were words he'd have said to any worker, anytime, a casual compliment with nothing else implied, which was exactly what she wanted. So why did it feel so bad?

“Nice kitchen.” Don came through the side door next. He examined the kitchen's layout and faced Callie. He smiled his appreciation. “You did a great job with this, Callie.”

“Thanks, Don. Most of it was already in the plans.”

He harrumphed. “I saw the original layout, remember? And the way you added the plate rack above, the spindles along the far edge, the double pantry…?” He took a contemplative sip of coffee. “Your mother would have loved this.”

His words smoothed her prickled feelings, like extrafine sandpaper on wild-grained oak. “You think?”

“Oh, yeah. All this cupboard space, so neat and pretty? She'd have had a ball in a kitchen like this.”

“Good.” Callie finished the last strip along the upper edge and turned to step back onto the ladder. Her toe caught the lip of the cupboard fascia. She held a wet paintbrush in one hand and a can of paint in the other. No way was she about to spill paint on these new cupboards with people coming in two hours.

She tipped, knowing the fall was inevitable, wishing she'd stayed focused.

“I've got you.”

Matt's strong arms braced her, holding her steady, his welcome words emotionally painful. He held on while she unhooked her foot, then asked, “Don, can you take the paint?”

“Sure.”

Callie set the can in Don's hand, then the brush. She stepped back onto the ladder, feeling Matt's hand at her waist,
wondering if he'd been this nice to Katie last night, wishing Jill never sent the photo.

But a part of her thanked God for the wake-up call. She'd promised herself no more missteps with men and romance. Falling for Matt?

Big mistake?

“Are you okay?”

Strong, rugged hands gripped her shoulders. And she thought she heard a slight tremor in his voice.
Don't look up.

Too late. He released one shoulder and tipped her chin, scrutinizing her. “Did you pull anything? Sprain anything?”

“Besides my pride? No.”

A soft smile brightened his worried features. “Pride goeth before the fall,” he quipped.

She tried to ease back.

He didn't let go. And Don had disappeared upstairs, leaving them alone. “You scared me.”

Yeah, well… “Glad you happened by, marine.”

He studied her like he had before she left the house, then shrugged. “I'm confused. You're mad at me and I don't know why. We haven't seen each other since last night and you were fine when I left to meet Katie.”

She flinched. An “aha” moment widened his eyes. “You're mad because I met Katie for coffee?”

She pulled back, harder this time. “Matt, it's like I told Jake last night. You have a life. You need to lead it. Living with us is a convenience, I get that, and we don't want to make you uncomfortable. Do what you've got to do and it will all work out.”

She might have pulled back firmly, but her strength didn't come close to matching his, which made her gesture futile. “You're jealous.”

“No.”

He had the audacity to smile and that nearly got him taken out at the knees. “Yes, but I don't get why,” he mused, not letting her go, almost enjoying this. One quick look at his face
said there was no “almost” about it. “First Reenie. Now Katie. You got trust issues going on, Cal?”

She did, thanks to a cheating husband and a lousy self-image, but that was none of his concern. “I trust you for a paycheck, Matt. Nothing more. Got it?”

“Got it.” He released her then, but the twinkle in his eye said more. Way more. “And I forgot how quickly information travels around here, so the next time I meet an old friend, I'll employ full disclosure up front, okay?”

“No need.” She slapped the top on the paint can with more vigor than needed, droplets of paint spattering the subfloor. She growled, chagrined.

He leaned down, close. Very close. “You're awful cute when you're mad. You know that?”

Hank and Jake's arrival warded off her reply, and she spent the next two hours wiping, polishing, vacuuming and sweeping. When Mary Kay pulled in with the prospective buyers, the crew slipped out the back door. They aimed for the Marek house to give the Realtor time to show the people around. Matt hung back to meet the buyers, but he managed to catch Callie's arm as she left. She bit her lower lip, determined to say nothing. Silence seemed best at the moment.

Matt gestured to the cleaned-up model, his gaze teasing. He leaned in, dropped her a wink and drawled, “Reenie couldn't have done it better, Cal. Thank you.”

“You're not funny.”

“Oh, I am.” He softened his grip on her arm and sent her mouth a wistful look. “But I'm sorry you misunderstood about Katie. I'll explain it soon, okay?” He glanced around the work space and shrugged. “I keep meaning to but we've been busy.” He shifted his attention to the guys heading toward the Marek house. “And we're never alone.”

That was certainly true.

“Soon. Promise.” He smiled at her, his eyes sending a message her heart longed to hear, but was it the longing or the
message that ruled the moment? Callie couldn't be sure, and until she was, she was safer maintaining distance.

The chatter of voices redirected her attention. “I'll head home. Make fresh coffee. Go schmooze these people with your charm and expertise.”

“Expertise will get me further,” Matt replied.

Not necessarily. He might be a first-class builder. She'd witnessed that. But his charm?

Off the charts. And that's what worried her most.

She gave the house one last look as the voices grew louder, hoping they'd love it, praying they'd see merit in her changes and upgrades, while a part of her hated to see it go. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Matt squeezed her arm and straightened his shoulders, heading back in. “I'll be over shortly.”

“Or call if this takes longer than you expected. I'll fix you a cup and bring it over.”

“Thanks, Callie.”

She told herself she was just being nice, that she'd hope for anyone's success the same way, but the Marek–Cavanaugh building connection had her personally invested. Good or bad, they'd put heart and soul into this venture, and today's viewing could signal success or failure. She sent him a confident nod and turned toward home, wondering what they'd gotten themselves into. “Anytime, boss.”

 

She doesn't want to sell the model.

The realization struck him as he closed the family room door.

Callie's personal investment in this house showed throughout, even though it wasn't quite done, and her quick look of longing?

That gripped his heart, but they'd built the model to sell, right? So why was this so hard?

“Matt, you're here.” Mary Kay's warm greeting inspired his smile as she came through the garage entrance followed
by a thirty-something couple. They looked nice. Normal. And as they stepped in, the woman grabbed her husband's arm, delighted. “Look at these maple cabinets, Ben. Aren't they gorgeous?”

“Very nice.” He stuck out a hand to Matt. “Ben Wiseman. And this is my wife, Chloe, the woman who ignored my instructions about not showing how much you like the house because it drives the price up.”

Matt laughed, shook his hand, and then Chloe's. “I've wired the walls to record conversation, actually. That way I can access every exclamation and adjust the price upward accordingly.”

“Clever technology.”

Matt grinned. “We do what we can.”

Mary Kay linked her arm through his. “Matt is a marine. He did multiple tours overseas and when he got home he worked night and day to build this business. And by buying Cobbled Creek from the Marek family…”

The couple nodded, obviously up-to-date on the subdivision's history.

“Matt's been working
with
the Mareks to stay true to the original design and specifications.”

“Isn't that tough?” Ben asked Matt. “Working with the family that lost this?”

Matt shook his head. “I'd have thought so, too, but no. It's been wonderful. And they live across the road, so they'll be your neighbors if you decide to live here. And you couldn't ask for better ones anywhere.”

“Kids?” Chloe asked.

“A boy. Eight years old. His name's Jake.”

“The same age as our Jordan.” Chloe surveyed the kitchen. “And I love the ratio of cupboard and pantry space to work space in this kitchen.”

“That's Callie Marek's doing,” Matt told them. “She's got a great eye.”

“We loved the layout of the neighborhood,” Ben confessed.
“And I probably shouldn't tell you that, but the minute we saw it, it reminded us of the vacation spot Chloe's parents had in the Catskills.”

“The way you've nestled the homes into the hillside drew us,” added Chloe.

Matt would have to thank Hank and Callie for their hard work. Sure, he'd come in at the last moment to pull things together, but money and timing couldn't fix poor initial planning, and the welcoming look of Cobbled Creek attested to that.

But now it was time to let Mary Kay do her job. Matt shook hands again and headed for the door, cell phone in hand. “If you need me, call, but I want to get out of your way so you feel free to examine things fully.”

“Thanks, Matt.” Mary Kay's nod said his timing was perfect, making him wish he could do that in all facets of his life.

Hah.

He headed toward the Marek house, his gaze drawn to the plywood Holy Family staked in the lawn. Simple. Austere. Poignant.

Callie and Hank didn't have much, but faith and love shined in everything they did. They took care of each other, the way a family should. Callie'd grown up with one parent. Jake was doing the same. Matt had been left virtually parentless at a young age, and for just a moment he wondered if the American dream of Mom, Dad and kids living together was an illusion. A shadow of reality, an old truth.

It doesn't have to be, son.

Grandpa's sage words washed over him.

It's all about choices. Good and bad. Every step of the way.

Grandpa was right. Eyeing the Marek house, Matt recognized the growing feeling inside himself. The way his heart had stopped beating when Callie nearly fell. The way it ramped up pace when she smiled at him. How she managed to capture his heart by cupping his cheek.

He wanted to be her helper, her protector. Her knight in shining armor.

But that meant he had to set the record straight, and people would talk after seeing him with Katie last night. They'd reminisce and wonder out loud. Which meant he had to tell Callie first.

 

“Did they like the house, Matt?” Jake spouted the question the moment Matt stepped through the door.

Matt picked him up, tossed him into a fireman's hold and noogied the boy's head while Jake laughed in glee. “They seemed to, bud. But I had to get out of there and let Mary Kay do her job.”

“What's that mean?”

“Schmooze 'em,” explained Hank.

Jake frowned, confused.

“Mary Kay's job is to point out the good things about a house so people want to buy it.”

“Although nothing about Cobbled Creek needs glossing over,” declared Don.

“Absolutely not,” exclaimed Buck, who must have joined the group after they'd walked to the Mareks'.

“It's beautiful just the way it is,” threw in Jim roundly, adding his support.

“You sound like a bunch of pom-pom wavin' cheerleaders,” Hank grumped, but his grin of appreciation showed his true feelings. “Matt, Buck brought bagels.” He waved a hand toward the counter.

“Sounds good. Thanks, Buck.” He turned toward Callie. “Weren't you and Jake going to start decorating?”

She nodded. “I figured now is the perfect time so those people can wander at will with Mary Kay, then I can work on the model this afternoon while Jake's at the birthday party.”

“Good. I'll grab a couple of these,” he took two bagels from the counter and wrapped them in a double paper towel, “and
we can head back. Get some stuff done on number twenty-three.”