His smile uplifted her. Such a little thing to decorate for the holidays. And Jake’s smile?
Totally a gift from God.
Matt paced the sidewalk in front of the café, half wishing Katie would stand him up.
She didn’t. She headed his way from across the street, the village quiet, even on Black Friday. He stepped forward, not sure where to begin. Hello seemed appropriate. “Hey. Thanks for coming.”
She studied his face as if looking for something, then shrugged. “I didn’t want to.”
“I know.”
“But I had to,” she went on as though he hadn’t spoken. “Because I don’t want to be the person who walks away and never looks back.”
Matt felt the direct shot. He jerked his head toward the door. “Let’s go in. If we’re at a back table, we won’t get overheard by too many.”
A tiny smile flashed momentarily. “This is Jamison. All it takes is one.”
True, but Matt wondered if that was such a bad thing. If a person chose honor and goodness, would they care what was said about them? Of course not.
Which meant small towns were fine as long as you behaved yourself. He glanced around once they were seated in the Green Room, surprised by the flurry of customers. “I thought it would be quiet.”
“Not on weekend nights. People come in for the music,” she trailed a look to a pair of guitar players settling in near the fireplace, “and the food. And the coffee is marvelous.”
“Katie, hey.” The taller guitarist moved their way, comfortable in the close-knit setting. “Did you bring your fiddle?”
She laughed. “It’s at home, Cedric. It’s not my night to play.”
“Impromptu becomes you, Katie girl.”
Katie leaned forward and gestured toward Matt. “Cedric MacDaniel, this is Matt Cavanaugh.”
The man turned his way and extended his hand. “The builder.”
“Yes.”
“I’m Simon’s brother. He told me you were coming by to patch his roof.”
Matt nodded. “Hopefully we can get it taken care of this week.”
“I roofed my way through college,” Cedric told him. “If you need help, I’m available on weekends.”
“Thanks.”
Katie turned as Cedric headed back across the room. “He and Simon are fraternal twins.”
“They’re not from here.”
“No.” Katie shook her head, gave the waiter her order, paused while Matt did the same, then continued, “Simon took over the White Church ministry, then Cedric followed. Their parents were killed in the attack on the World Trade Center.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.” Katie nodded, rimmed her water glass with one finger, then sighed. “Simon was an associate pastor in Connecticut. Cedric was working in the financial district, but several blocks up.”
“So he was right there.” Matt couldn’t fathom it, to be on hand and know your parents worked in the towers that came crashing down. “That’s rough.”
Katie turned her attention full back to him. “Rough stuff happens, Matt. To most of us. Then we pick up the pieces and move on, which you’ve obviously done.”
Her tone didn’t make it sound like a compliment. “I hope so.” He paused, drew a breath and waded in. “I came back to apologize, Katie.”
“And build houses.”
Her cryptic tone said she wasn’t buying his apology theory.
“That, too, but the reason I bought Cobbled Creek was to help make amends. To make something pretty out of threatened property.”
“And make money.”
“Let’s hope.” He met her gaze. “You don’t stay in business if you don’t make money.”
“Or maybe,” she said, leaning forward, her eyes locked on his, “You came back to show everyone how successful you are. How industrious. The bad boy returns and waves his success in the face of the people who wronged him.”
“No one wronged me,” he corrected her. “I was the one who messed up. I ruined a lot of things in my day, but the worst…” He shifted his attention away, then brought it back, reluctant. “The worst was what I did to you.”
“Not calling me? Not coming to see me? Not writing?” She sat back, letting one rhythmic finger tap against the table top.
“Hurting you.” He waved toward her leg. “Causing your injuries. Driving drunk and stupid.”
“So seeing me is your reparation?”
Matt frowned. “Katie, it’s…”
“Because, for your information, Matt Cavanaugh, totally ignoring me after the accident was way more painful than losing a limb ever thought of being.”
“Katie—”
“Do you know how long I was in that hospital? In rehab? How I longed for a friendly face?”
“Your father wouldn’t let anyone near you, Katie. You know that.”
“Then you should have tried harder, Matt.”
He scowled, wishing she was wrong.
“You let shame and guilt rule you. And you didn’t even help the public defender when your court case came up. You could have pleaded down, you could have told the judge about your life, you could have helped yourself and maybe lessened your sentence…”
“I didn’t deserve a lesser sentence. If anything, I should have served longer.”
“Shut up.”
He sat back, amazed.
“You.” She half stood and shook a finger at him, her expression tough and tart. “You acted like a sacrificial lamb, like the whole thing was your fault, like Pete, Joe and I didn’t have options. We had choices, Matt. We were stupid drunk just like you, and it was only by chance you were driving. The accident happened because four of us were stupid. Not one. And it was more hurtful to lose your friendship than to lose my leg, and if you think I’m not one-hundred-percent serious about that, then you don’t know me.”
Her words hit home, but was she right or sugar-coating a horrible circumstance? “I was driving.”
“Only because Joe got sick,” she reminded him. “Matt, listen.” She edged forward again.
Matt leaned back. “Are you going to hit me?”
The tiny smile he glimpsed outside returned. “I’m tempted, but no. We were young. Stupid. We stole that car and went drinking and driving late at night, but each of us made a conscious choice to be there. We were just as wrong as you. But you…” she reached out and smoothed a hand to his face. “You took it on the chin for us.”
“Katie, you lost your leg,” he reminded her, hating that she felt sorry for him when he’d cost her so much. “I maimed you because I was reckless. I can’t forgive myself for that.”
“Well, then you’re still stupid,” she told him, but her voice was softer. Gentler. “Because I forgave you a long time ago. And I forgave my father for being so tough and critical,” she added, wrinkling her nose, an expression he remembered as though it was yesterday. “Although I try to avoid him as much as possible, and that’s tough in a small town, but Matt,” she bent farther forward, her tone strong but sincere, “our families were a piece of work for different reasons. God doesn’t hold that against us. He knows kids make mistakes and need forgiveness. It’s what we do as adults that counts. And did you ever stop to think the accident happened for a reason? That it might have been the wake-up call we needed?” She accepted her latte from the waiter and paused as Matt took his coffee.
“We were on the road to early graves,” she continued. “That accident put the brakes on. Made us grow up. Now we’ve all got successful careers. Pete’s got two beautiful kids and is a grocery manager at Tops. Joe’s a mechanic at a big car dealership in Olean, and loves it.”
“He always loved tinkering under a hood,” Matt mused.
“And you’ve done well, Matt,” she reminded him. “You’ve served your country, you’ve built a business, you’re honest and upright.”
“How do you know all this?”
She scoffed a laugh. “The web. I’ve watched you along the way, just checking to see i
f you were okay.”
“I am.” Saying the words out loud, Matt almost believed them. “I was nervous about meeting you.”
“Me, too. But mostly mad,” Katie added, grinning.
“I saw that, which might have been the source of my fear,” Matt admitted. “You look wonderful.”
“You, too. And I love that you’ve taken over Cobbled Creek,” she added. “Not because I didn’t want the Mareks successful,” she hastened to add. “But just because they looked so sad that the whole thing fell apart. Callie is about one of the toughest, strongest gals I know…”
“She’s incredible. I don’t know what I’d do without her,” Matt agreed. Something in his tone deepened Katie’s smile.
“She is. And she works so hard at everything she does, and her little boy?” Katie lifted her shoulders. “He’s wonderful even though his father walked out on him when he was a baby.”
“A feeling I can relate to,” Matt noted. “But Jake seems fine.”
“He does,” Katie agreed, “but it’s got to bother him. Look back at you and me when we were young. There was a lot we didn’t let show.”
She was right. They’d hidden their emotional wounds, but things surfaced when they acted out as young teens. “I can’t believe the dumb things we did.”
“Me neither. And if I’m ever a mom,” Katie continued, “I want to be a great one. With a wonderful husband who’s committed to God and his family. And a good dog.”
“You always loved dogs.”
“Still do.” Wistfulness softened her expression. “But I can’t have one in my apartment in Wellsville and I’m never there anyway. I work as a nurse at Jones Memorial, play violin for the church and teach skiing on winter weekends.”
Skiing? Matt didn’t shield the surprise on his face quick enough and her finger waved again. “Don’t make assumptions about what my life is like, Matt. You see me as broken, but I prefer to think of it as just another challenge. An extra mogul in the downhill slopes of life.”
“You’re incredible.”
“Well.” She patted her leg as the waiter brought a serving of spinach and artichoke dip with a side of pita chips. “Computerized prosthetics are a wonder these days. And they’re using me to test new apparatus that responds to the brain.”
“Your brain tells the leg what to do?”
“And the leg does it.” She grinned and grabbed a chip. “Not quite as perfect as the real deal, but amazing, nonetheless. So yeah, I ski, I bike, I run, I play, I work.” She reached out and held his hand, her fingers soft and warm. “I decided that I needed to work harder, better and longer to conquer those early demons. So I did. Same as you.”
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 opportunities. 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.
Chapter Twelve
The 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?”
&nbs
p; “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?”
Yuletide Hearts Page 14
