A Knight Before Christmas

by Alicia Dean

  Chapter Two

  Immediately after breakfast the next morning, Heath

  headed out for a drive. He told his mother he had some

  people to see, but truth was, he needed to get away, clear his

  head. His mother's house, with its endless parade of guests

  and family, and memories of his childhood, was stifling.

  He drove past leafless trees and lawns with patchy snow,

  heading into town under a graying sky. The forecast called for

  snow and more snow. Just his luck, he'd probably end up

  stranded in Kansas City.

  The cemetery where both Rudy and his father were buried

  was only about five miles east of town, and he considered

  going to see their graves, but he couldn't bring himself to do

  that just yet. His resentment toward his dad made him

  reluctant to visit his grave, and if he visited Rudy's, his guilt

  over not visiting his dad's would eat at him. For now, he'd

  avoid them both.

  When his aimless wandering and jumbled thoughts took

  him into town, Heath stopped at Juniper's Cafe. The door

  jangled with his entrance, and the head of every patron

  swiveled toward him as if directed by an invisible orchestra

  conductor. No familiar faces, but that was good. He wasn't in

  the mood for company.

  He slid onto a stool at the counter, and a plump, middle-

  aged waitress wearing a white blouse and black slacks

  approached. "Coffee?" she asked, sliding a menu in front of

  him.

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  "Yeah, please. Nothing but coffee." He slid the menu back.

  His mother had plied him with enough breakfast to feed a

  small country, and he wondered why he'd even stopped at

  the cafe.

  When the waitress returned with his coffee, he took a

  swallow of the better than expected brew and glanced

  around. It was Monday morning and the place was nearly

  empty, mostly occupied with mothers and small children and

  a few retirees who looked as though, like Heath, they didn't

  have anywhere better to be.

  "Heath? Heath King?"

  He turned at the voice to find Jerome Badgett standing at

  his shoulder. They'd gone to high school together and made

  an attempt at being friends, but they each had a flaw that

  prevented it. Jerome was an irritating pain in the ass, and

  Heath wasn't saint enough to tolerate him.

  Heath forced himself to dredge up at least a little

  congeniality. After all, it was almost Christmas. He stuck out

  his hand. "How you been?"

  Jerome was thin, with greasy-looking hair and traces of

  acne that hadn't improved much since high school. "Good,

  man, good. When the hell did you get into town?" Jerome

  slapped Heath's back so hard the coffee he held nearly

  sloshed over the rim and onto his hand.

  He set the cup down. "Last night."

  "Here for the holidays?"

  "Yeah."

  "Hell, guess that was a no-brainer. Mind if I join you?"

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  "No, go ahead," Heath said, even though Jerome was

  already sliding onto the stool next to him.

  "What the hell you been up to?"

  Heath resisted the urge to ask why the hell he had to put

  hell into every question. "Private security in Oklahoma City.

  You?"

  "Coffee and the lumberjack breakfast," he told the waitress

  without looking at the menu, then to Heath, "I do

  maintenance for some duplexes. Matter of fact, they belonged

  to your buddy, Rudy. His wife's running them now. But then,

  you may know that."

  Heath shook his head. "No. I didn't." He didn't know what

  Nic had decided to do about the property she and Rudy

  owned. Managing all those units was a lot for her to take on

  by herself, but then, that was Nic.

  "By the way, sorry about Rudy, man. And your dad."

  "Thanks."

  "You seen Nicolette lately?"

  Heath tried to ignore the tightening in his chest that came

  with every mention of her name. "No. Not since the funeral."

  "She's something else, isn't she? Hate to sound like a

  vulture, but I think she's been alone long enough that I could

  make my move. What do you think?"

  The tightening increased. "That might not be a good idea.

  She just lost her husband in January."

  "Nearly a year, bub. She's young, and a woman has

  needs."

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  "You know, I'm not sure I'm okay talking to you about this.

  Nicolette's my friend, her husband was my best friend." And

  I'm in love with her myself.

  "Oh, yeah, sorry, man. Wasn't thinking. Didn't mean to

  open any wounds." He brooded into the cup the waitress

  handed him before taking a swallow.

  "No problem." Heath stood and picked up his ticket.

  "You taking off already? Didn't offend you, did I?"

  "No. I just gotta go. Mom's waiting on me."

  "Okay, take care, man. Sorry if I said something wrong,

  but I gotta tell you, that's not gonna stop me from going after

  her. You let a woman like that be alone too long, some other

  dog will be sniffing around, know what I mean?"

  Heath knew exactly what he meant. He had to hurry away

  before he plowed his fist into Jerome's stupidly smiling face.

  Nicolette's hand shook as she brought the mascara brush

  closer to her eye. She stopped, took a deep breath, and tried

  again. Not much better. She was still trembling.

  You have to get through this night. It's for Rudy, but

  mostly, it's for the people who need your help.

  Some of the proceeds from tonight's event would fund the

  Christmas party they held every year for the families of the

  men and women who'd gone through the program. There was

  a big dinner, a Santa with gifts for the kids, and groceries for

  the families to take home with them, along with gift cards to

  Wal-Mart for the parents to get things they needed to help

  them along in their new start on life.

  In addition to raising money for the party, Rudy was being

  honored tonight with a posthumous Good Samaritan award,

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  and Nicolette was to accept it for him. She'd never felt less

  deserving, more like a phony. Droves of people would be in

  attendance, paying homage to a fallen hero. What would

  those people think if they knew their hero had skeletons in his

  closet? That he was enslaved to the very demons his charity

  spoke out against?

  She tried again and this time managed to get the mascara

  on her lashes, even eyeliner onto her lids. But the effect

  wasn't what she wanted. Pale skin, too-bright eyes and now,

  dark, vivid borders to bring attention to them. She wiped it

  off with makeup remover and settled for a light brushing of

  mascara. Blush on her cheekbones to give the illusion of a

  healthy glow, a pinkish gloss on her lips, and she was ready.

&
nbsp; Her sea-green dress hung loosely in places where it once

  clung. She'd bought it before Rudy's death, before the

  blackmail and threats. Back then, she'd wanted to lose a few

  pounds, but even she was aware that now she'd lost more

  than a few. She was bordering on a sickly thin that was

  neither healthy nor attractive. But then, who cared? Who was

  around to see her anyway, to appreciate her attractiveness,

  or lack thereof? Rudy was gone. No other man had paid

  attention to her in a while. And, the man who she most

  wanted to appreciate her attractiveness wasn't around.

  Well, that wasn't entirely true. Heath was around. She'd

  heard the news from her maintenance man, Jerome. She'd

  had to struggle to keep her reaction from showing on her

  face. She thought she'd been successful, that Jerome didn't

  guess how thrilled and excited she'd been at the thought of

  seeing Heath again. Although, that probably wouldn't happen.

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  Now that Rudy was gone, Heath most likely wouldn't bother

  to contact her. She hadn't heard from him since Rudy's

  funeral, and while they'd been close friends, it appeared the

  death of his best friend had severed whatever ties they once

  shared.

  Or, was he avoiding her because of what happened

  between them after Rudy's accident? Correction, what almost

  happened between them, while Rudy lay in a coma. No,

  surely that wasn't it. They hadn't actually done anything.

  They'd both been lonely, needing comfort, grieving.

  Yeah. Great way to express grief over your dying husband.

  Try to get another man to jump your bones.

  That was neither here nor there. It hadn't happened. She

  and Heath were no longer in touch with one another. He was

  in town, but as out of reach as if he were on another planet.

  She wouldn't contact him, and it was obvious he had no plans

  to contact her. Best to put him out of her mind.

  Nicolette gathered her handbag and keys, turned off all the

  lights in the condo, and went into the garage and climbed into

  her LaSabre.

  Put him out of your mind, indeed, she thought as she

  backed out of the garage. Yeah, right. She'd be better off

  attempting to fry bacon with a light bulb.

  When Heath arrived at the dedication, he knew his

  concerns about what he would say to Nicolette were moot.

  He'd never find her in this crowd. The auditorium was filled to

  capacity. It appeared a small fortune had gone into

  decorations. Huge red ribbons hung from the stage and along

  the balcony railing. Glittering lights were strung from every

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  available spot and a Christmas tree the size of Mount Everest

  stood at one end of the room. Soft strains of "Have Yourself a

  Merry Little Christmas" played from gargantuan speakers

  placed in each corner.

  Heath realized right off he was underdressed for the

  occasion. Maybe it was a good thing he wouldn't run into

  Nicolette. He'd no doubt embarrass her. Most of the attendees

  had on evening wear, the colorful array of tuxes and gowns

  nearly outdoing the decorations on the tree. Heath wore dark

  jeans and a sports jacket with cowboy boots. No one had told

  him it was a formal affair. Maybe he should have assumed.

  Milling through the crowd, drink in hand, Heath felt

  conspicuously out of place.

  After some more wandering around, he'd talked himself

  into slipping out and had swallowed the last bit of scotch in

  his glass when her voice came over the microphone,

  "Welcome, everyone. Thank you so much for coming. It's a

  very special night for me and I'm thrilled to see all of you

  here."

  Too late now. He couldn't leave. Not when he'd have a

  chance to hear Nicolette. To see her, even from a distance.

  Still holding his glass, he made his way as close to the

  stage as he could, which wasn't close. But it was close

  enough to see her. As beautiful as ever, though a little too

  thin. She wore a light green, sparkly gown. Her hair was

  pinned on top of her head, revealing the smooth line of her

  neck...a neck Heath had wanted to run his lips across the

  moment he'd first seen her.

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  He shook off those thoughts and forced his attention back

  to Nicolette's speech.

  "Rudy would have been so honored at the turnout tonight.

  I can't tell you what it means to me, but mostly to the

  charity, to have this kind of support."

  The crowd cheered, and a man who'd been standing off to

  the side of the podium stepped forward to lean into the

  microphone. "We would like to present this posthumous

  award to Rudy Morgan for his tireless, selfless dedication to

  those in need. Mr. Morgan's cause, and his devotion to it, has

  changed the lives of countless people. With your generous

  donations, that momentum will continue. Not only has

  Renewed Hope done just that—given renewed hope to

  countless people who would otherwise have none—it has

  provided homes, jobs, schooling for families. The annual

  Christmas party will be held at the Historical Museum on

  Christmas day, and needy families will benefit from donations

  of food, money, and gifts. This will be the first year our dear

  friend, Rudy, will not be in attendance at the party that

  meant so much to him, but we all know he'll be there in

  spirit." He turned to Nicolette. "Nicolette, please accept this in

  honor of your husband." He handed a plaque to her and she

  took it, leaning forward to place a kiss on the man's cheek.

  "Thank you," her tearful voice said into the mic. "Rudy had

  a dream of changing the world. He always said it could be

  done, one individual at a time. I believe that, too."

  The crowd went wild with applause. Nicolette blew a kiss,

  then strode gracefully from the stage. Heath tried to keep her

  in sight, but the crowd swallowed her. He let out a breath,

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  trying to loosen the tightness in his chest. Damn. It was the

  same reaction every time he saw her. Had been from the

  moment he'd laid eyes on her as she moved across the quad

  at MU in that same, graceful stride.

  Rudy had spotted her then, too. Before Heath could lay

  claim, he'd whispered, "I'm going to marry that girl."

  And that's exactly what he'd done. Lucky bastard. Heath

  shook his head. Envious of a dead man. Nice.

  Suddenly, having another drink sounded better than

  leaving. He worked his way back to the bar and ordered

  another scotch.

  The bartender traded the full glass for Heath's money, and

  Heath took a sip. When the liquor burned through his throat

  and settled warmly in the pit of his stomach, he decided he'd

  gotten the better end of the deal.

  "Heath?"

 
He'd been in the process of taking a second drink; the

  liquor stayed at the base of his throat, refusing to go down.

  He forced a swallow and turned to find Nicolette at his elbow.

  "Oh, my God, Heath! I can't believe it's you."

  She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, much the way she

  had the old guy who'd given her the plaque. Heath wondered

  if the man felt that same warm tingle in the spot where her

  lips had rested so briefly, if he also wanted to pull her

  softness into him and give her much more than that chaste

  peck on the cheek.

  "Nicolette," he said. "Hello."

  "How are you? I had no idea you'd be here."

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  "Yeah, well. Jesse told me about it, and I thought I'd show

  my support. Apparently about a million other people had the

  same idea. I didn't think I'd even get a chance to talk to you.

  I was just about to leave."

  Her face fell in disappointment. "You were going to leave

  without seeing me?"

  Heath took another drink, wondering why he felt so guilty,

  why the very idea of making Nicolette sad was unbearable. "I

  wanted to see you, but I just figured with so many people,

  that wouldn't be likely." He looked down at his attire. "Plus,

  I'm not exactly dressed for the occasion. I didn't know this

  was going to be such a classy event."

  Her nose wrinkled, and she shook her head. "Nah. It's a

  whatever event. These people just love any opportunity to try

  to outdo one another. Come on."

  She slipped her arm in Heath's and began walking him

  away from the bar. Leaning conspiratorially close, she said,

  "Don't think I'm complaining. It certainly doesn't hurt the

  donations."

  She smiled, but her eyes didn't join in. For the first time,

  Heath noticed something not quite right about her. It was

  more than just the weight loss. In the places where her body

  touched his, he detected a slight tremble. Her voice was

  overly bright, and her eyes held a look of desperation, of fear.

  The signs were all subtle. Had he not known her for fifteen

  years, he might have missed them. She seemed on edge.

  Fragile. Like the wrong move, the wrong word, might cause

  her to shatter.

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  She maneuvered him into an alcove and once there,