A Maverick for Christmas

Cade tried to shake off the thoughts and images that had been tormenting him since he’d apologized and burned rubber back to his house. Thoughts about her had haunted him. Her wide brown eyes, her silky, long brown hair and her ruby lips swollen from the friction of his mouth against hers. His own lips burned with the memory, and he rubbed the back of his hand against them, trying to rub away the visual and the guilt. What the hell had he been thinking?

Impatience rushed through him and he grabbed a file. His mind torn in different directions, he stabbed his other hand. Pain seared through him, blood gushed from his hand. Cade swore loudly and stood.

“What are you doing, son?” his father demanded, striding toward him to take a look at Cade’s hand.

“It’s fine,” Cade said. “I’ll bandage it and it will be fine.”

“You better be up-to-date with your tetanus shot,” Hank said.

“I am,” Cade said. “I’m not that stupid.”

“Based on your performance this morning…” his father began.

“Lay off, Dad,” Cade said, looking down at the man who had taught him so much about carpentry and life, the man who’d never recovered from the death of his wife several years ago. None of them had really recovered from the death of Cade’s mother. She’d balanced her husband’s stern taskmaster nature with softness and smiles.

“Son, I don’t want to have to say this, but you need to snap out of your funk. Laila is getting married to someone else, and you’re just going to have to get used to it,” Hank said bluntly.

Shock slapped through Cade as he stared at his father. He opened his mouth to say he hadn’t been thinking about Laila then closed it. He sure as hell didn’t want to tell his father he’d been thinking about Laila’s little sister Abby.

“You bandage up that hand and go check in on the community center. They’ve requested a few things for their Thanksgiving program.”

Cade shook his head. “We don’t have time for me to go to the community center now. We have too much work.”

Hank shook his head. “Get some air, do something different. You’ll come back better than ever.”

“You know that since we’re equal partners, you can’t be giving orders,” Cade said.

Hank sighed and rolled his eyes. “Okay, consider it a request from your elderly father.”

Cade felt a twitch of amusement. His father was still a hard driver, especially in the shop. “Elderly my—”

“Get on out of here,” Hank said.

Cade pulled on his jacket and walked out the door, feeling his father’s gaze on him as he left. He didn’t want his father worrying about him. With a few exceptions during his teen years, Cade had made a point of not causing his parents much grief. Once his mother had gotten sick, his younger brothers had acted up, and Cade knew his father had needed to be able to rely on him. Work had gotten them through the rough times, and for Cade, the loss hadn’t stopped with his mother. There’s been Dominique and he’d felt the promise of happiness with her before she’d been taken from him.

Stepping outside the shop, he walked toward the community center a few blocks away. He shook his head, willing the cold air to clear it. He shouldn’t be thinking about Abby. It was wrong in so many ways. Putting his mind on the community center’s Thanksgiving needs should point him in a different direction. He welcomed the change.

Cade walked inside the glass door of the community center and headed toward the gym at the back of the building. He pushed open the door and his breath hitched at the sight before him. The object of his distraction handed a baby to the community center’s children’s director, Mrs. Wrenn, and began to climb a ladder holding a humongous horn of plenty.

“What the hell?” he muttered, walking toward the front of the room.

Abby continued to climb the ladder while she lugged the horn of plenty upward. Cade couldn’t permit her to continue. “Stop,” he said, his voice vibrating against the walls.

Abby toppled at the sound of his voice and whipped her head in his direction. “Cade?”

“Stay right there,” he said, closing the space between him and the ladder. He grabbed each side of the metal ladder. “Okay, you can come down now.”

Abby’s hair swinging over her shoulders, she frowned at him. “Why? I’ve just got a little farther to go.”

“Not while I’m here,” he said, his voice sounding rough to his own ears.

Abby shook her head. “But it won’t take another minute for me to finish—”

“Come down,” he said. “It’s not safe. I’ll handle it.”

She paused long enough to make him uncomfortable. “Abby,” he said.

“Okay, okay, but I was doing fine before you got here,” she said, descending the ladder.

“That’s a matter of opinion,” he muttered under his breath as he watched her bottom sway as she wobbled.

She missed the last step and fell against him. He caught her tight and absently grabbed the horn of plenty, his heart pounding.

“Oops,” she said after the fact.

Some part of him took note of the sensation of her breasts against his chest, her pelvis meshed against his as she slid downward. His brain scrambled, but he fought it.

“I really would have been fine,” she insisted.

“Yeah,” he said, unable to keep the disbelief from his voice. “I’ll handle the rest of this.”

“You’re not being sexist, are you?” she demanded. “Because I really can do this.”

Cade felt his heart rate rise again. “Not sexist,” he said. “Just practical. I’m more athletic than you are.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I played soccer and—”

“I have more upper-body strength,” he said, deciding to end the argument once and for all.

He felt Abby’s admiring gaze over his broad shoulders. “I can’t argue with that,” she said.

He felt an odd thrill that he quickly dismissed. “I’ll go ahead and hang this horn of plenty,” he said. “Do you mind holding the ladder?”

“Not at all,” Abby said cheerfully.

Cade climbed the ladder and hung the horn of plenty. He descended to the floor. “My father told me you need a few things for your Thanksgiving show.”

Mrs. Wrenn jiggled the toddler and Abby extended her arms to the small boy. “Come here, Quentin.”

The toddler fell toward her and Abby laughed, catching him in her arms. “Hiya, sweetie,” she said.

The mocha-colored child beamed and giggled as Abby cradled him, clearly feeling safe with her. Cade saw a flash of Abby, laughing, burgeoning with pregnancy and another baby on her hip. Her brown eyes were sexy with humor and womanly awareness.

Cade shook his head, snapping him out of his crazy visual. “How can I help you, Mrs. Wrenn?”

The elderly woman beamed at him. “Thank you so much for coming. We need a ship hull and a table for the pilgrim and Native American dinner. It doesn’t have to be too special.”

“We can take care of that,” Cade said. “We’ll get a donated table and dress it up.”