A Wedding for Christmas

She began to back away. “Well, thank you for being there.”

“Hey, anytime. Let me know if you have more trouble getting Ricky to eat his vegetables. Or doing his homework, for that matter,” Shane added, warming up to the subject. “I’m still awed that kids in kindergarten actually get homework. If he has any trouble at all—not that I think he will,” Shane quickly interjected in case Cris thought he was impugning Ricky’s mental capabilities. “But if he hits a snag while I’m here, let me know. As much as I enjoy working with my hands, I miss the challenge of finding new ways to get kids interested in what I have to teach.”

“Ah, a builder and a scholar,” she said. “I guess that qualifies you as a Renaissance man.”

“Either that or just a guy eager to earn a living and stay ahead of the bill collectors,” he joked.

Still grateful beyond words for the break-through, Cris wanted to show him how thankful she was.

The only thing she had to give was food—so she did.

“Listen, when you’re ready to turn in your tool belt and call it a day,” she said, waving at the work he was doing, “instead of just leaving, why don’t you come by the dining area for dinner. On the house,” she added. “The very least I can do is keep you fed.”

There was no need for that, he thought. He didn’t want her feeling she owed him, especially for doing something he enjoyed: telling stories and getting kids to come around. Ricky seemed like an exceptionally intelligent boy and was incredibly easy to talk to. Getting through to him hadn’t been a real challenge, just a pleasant diversion.

“I like paying my own way,” he told her.

Cris looked at him pointedly. “I guess we’re alike, because so do I.”

CHAPTER FOUR

ORDINARILY, CRIS WOULD have retreated at this point. She had never been known as the pushy sister—that title belonged to Alex. But for some reason, she caught herself digging in.

If asked, she wouldn’t have been able to explain why—she just knew she should.

So she did.

“Correct me if I’m wrong here,” she told Shane, “but you do have to eat at some point later on today, right?” Her eyes challenged his as she waited for him to reply.

A half smile curved his mouth because she’d managed to amuse him. “Right.”

As she recalled, he had been very logical as a teen, so she was approaching this evening meal issue as logically as she could. “Do you cook?”

Shane laughed outright before answering. “If I have to.”

“So your dinner is often what—takeout?” she asked.

But the moment the words were out of her mouth, she suddenly realized she was assuming things again, assuming he was single.

What if he wasn’t?

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice hardly above a whisper. Distressed, she wished that she’d thought before speaking or, better yet, that the ground would just open up and swallow her whole.

“For?” he prompted, not following her.

“I just assumed you weren’t married and... Never mind,” she concluded uneasily, feeling that anything she said from there on in would just worsen the situation. She felt she finally understood the meaning of the phrase “sticking your foot in your mouth.” “Ever since I lost Mike, I just see everyone else in the same situation,” she apologized. “Without a partner,” she clarified, realizing that in her embarrassment, she was rambling.

In no way was she prepared to hear him quietly tell her, “I am.”

Cris stared at him, confused. “You are what—single or—?”

“Or,” he told her. At the bewilderment in her eyes, he took pity on her and explained. “I was married for a while.” He’d slipped a ring on Virginia’s finger the moment he got out of the service. “My wife was killed in a car accident a little more than three years ago.”

Sympathy flooded her and she ached for what Shane must have gone through.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she murmured. As her soul reached out to his, she took his hand in hers, silently sealing the painful bond they now shared. “I didn’t even know you were married. I lost touch with Nancy,” she confessed, referring to his sister, who had been one of her two closest friends in high school.

“There’s no reason for you to apologize,” Shane said. Although he had to admit she did look appealing as she was doing so. “Things change, people move on.” He shrugged. “That’s life.”

Nevertheless, she thought, she should have somehow sensed that someone as handsome and outgoing as Shane would easily have found someone to share his life with.

Wanting to change the focus of the conversation, Cris asked, “How is Nancy these days?”

Thinking of his younger sister, Shane smiled. “She lives up near San Francisco now. She’s married, with twin boys and is working for some big design company. I’ll let her know you asked about her,” he promised. “She’ll get a kick out of me doing some work for your family.”

“Give her my love,” Cris told him. Okay, now you can leave, she silently instructed herself. Yet she remained, as if glue had been applied to the soles of her shoes. She heard herself inviting him—again—to dinner. “So, despite my unfortunate foot-in-mouth moment, will you come to dinner tonight?”

He inclined his head. “I’d love to, but I hate to eat and run, and that’s what I’d be doing if I had dinner here,” he confessed. “I’ve got to be somewhere at seven.”

He’s got a date, you idiot, and he’s trying to be nice about it by not waving it in your face. When will you ever be smart enough to take a hint? Not that you have any designs on him, of course—but it certainly looks that way.

“Fair enough,” she said with perhaps a touch too much cheerfulness. “You tell me what you’d like for dinner and I’ll have it waiting for you by the time you come in to eat. Say at six?” she suggested, watching his expression for some sort of clue. “Or do you need to get going earlier? If you’re really in a hurry, I can have it wrapped to take out,” she volunteered.

That would be the easiest solution, but it had its drawbacks. “Tempting, but I’d just as soon eat here. If I brought the food with me, I wouldn’t be able to divide it into enough pieces to share it equally.”

She stared at him. That had to be the strangest comment she’d ever heard about eating one of her meals. What was he talking about?

“You’ve lost me,” she told Shane honestly. “Are you feeding something?” It sounded as though he was working with pets or at least some kind of animal. “Because I can certainly give you more than just a regular portion to take with you—”

“Stop,” he ordered before she continued any further down the wrong path. “You’re way too generous, Cris, but even an extralarge portion still wouldn’t be enough.”

Just what was he planning on feeding? “You realize you’re making me incredibly curious.”

As a rule, Cris didn’t believe in prying—what people did was their own business. But Shane was scattering just enough tasty bread crumbs before a hungry woman to make her ravenous for more.

He grinned at her. “And yet, you’re not asking questions,” he marveled. She had always been an unusual person, Shane recalled with more than a touch of admiration.

“Well, if you wanted me to know, you’d tell me—although,” Cris had to admit in all honesty, “I really do wish you would.”

Again he laughed, intuiting what was likely going on in her mind.

“It’s actually a lot less exciting than you’re probably imagining,” he told Cris. “I volunteer at a homeless shelter two, three evenings a week—more if I’m between jobs,” he confided. “I fix things at the shelter that break down, do whatever heavy lifting might be needed—literally and otherwise,” he tacked on before she could inquire. “In general, I pitch in wherever a body is needed. Kind of like ‘a jack of all trades, master of none’ thing,” he finished.

She took exception to how Shane just naturally played himself down. “I have a feeling you’re good at all,” she told him honestly. An idea hit her. She knew she didn’t have to run it past her father—or Alex, who were both very big on charity and doing their share. “I tell you what. Every night when I close down the kitchen, there’s usually leftover good food that we don’t use the next day—like the bread I bake and some of the extra portions of food. Once they’ve been served in the dining area, we’re not allowed to put them back into our refrigerator to serve the next day. Why don’t I set those items aside and on the days you go to the shelter, you can take them with you. Just give me a heads-up on the days you volunteer.”

He considered her offer less than a moment. “Well, I pass by the shelter on my way home from here. I can drop off your donation every night if you’re really serious.”

She thought that an odd way for him to word his acceptance. “Why wouldn’t I be serious?” she wanted to know, puzzled.