Harlequin Special Edition November 2014 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Weaver Christmas Gift\The Soldier's Holiday Homecoming\Santa's Playbook (43 page)

BOOK: Harlequin Special Edition November 2014 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Weaver Christmas Gift\The Soldier's Holiday Homecoming\Santa's Playbook
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“They still put up those tacky tinsel Christmas decorations?” she asked the table at large.

“You mean the ones from when we were in school?” Ethan said, taking a napkin to Bella's greasy hands as the child pronounced herself done. Chicken 3, broccoli 0. “Yep. Wouldn't be Christmas otherwise—”

“Dad?” Juliette said. “I forgot to tell you—I'm helping Kelly do Thanksgiving dinner over at PopPop's, so I won't be able to watch the other kids at the game.”

“Oh. Well, I guess we'll work something out. Maybe they could go to Pop's house early.”

The boys both looked horror-struck.

“And miss the game?”

“No way!”

“Then let me see if either of your uncles are going—”

“I can take them,” Claire said, and a half-dozen heads swiveled in her direction. “If you can't get anyone else, I mean.”

“You sure?”

“You sound skeptical.”

Ethan nodded sideways at the boys, currently seeing which one could stuff the most fries in his mouth. Claire sighed. Right. But...

“I think I can manage. Besides, it's not like I'm doing anything else that day.”

“At
all?
” Juliette asked.

Claire laughed. “We didn't do much when I was growing up. With three people, there's no sense cooking a turkey, and Mom wasn't much of a cook, anyway. So it's never been a big deal for me.”

“But what do you
do?

She shrugged. “Watch the Macy's parade in my jammies. That dog show that comes on afterward.
It's a Wonderful Life.
” She grinned. “Then I eat an entire pumpkin pie by myself. Which is glorious, believe me. But,” she said, turning to Ethan, “I can easily DVR the parade and the dog show and watch them later, so I could certainly take the boys to the game—”

“And then you're coming for dinner,” the Colonel said. “Because nobody should be alone on Thanksgiving. You hear me?”

“Yeah, what he said,” Juliette put in, practically quivering with excitement. “Then you can meet everybody else, too. Well, mostly, I think my aunt Sabrina is going to her fiancé's out on the island. But it'll be so much fun! Please say yes.
Please?

Oh, dear. Claire glanced down the table at Ethan, who was so busy dealing with Bella about something that Claire wondered if he'd even heard his father's invitation. So what his reaction to said invitation might be, she had no clue. Hers, however...

How to explain that, that day alone? Eating pie all by herself? It was her sanctuary. Or had been, for years. She'd rarely even accepted friends' invitations when she'd been in New York, that Great Gathering of Strays that happened every year, turning colleagues and strangers into family, even if for only one day. Oddly, not Claire's thing. So now, faced with the prospect of, once again, pretending to be part of something she wasn't, making small talk with people she didn't know... Ack.

Except then Ethan said, “Dad's right. Nobody should be alone on Thanksgiving.”

Her heart pounding, Claire lifted her eyes to see him watching her, his steady gaze damn close to...a challenge? What the hell? Then she turned again to catch the brightness in Juliette's eyes, hope in the Colonel's. Although she knew what lay behind the girl's excitement—alas—she had no idea why her presence was so important to her grandfather. But it clearly was. And she couldn't find it in herself to disappoint the older man. Or worse, come across as either rude or even weirder than she was.

“Then I'd love to come,” she said, which got a huge smile from Juliette and a sharp, approving nod from Ethan's father, as though she'd given the right answer. And from Ethan? An expression—from what she could tell anyway, when she dared another glance in his direction—she couldn't even begin to read.

Guess it was time to figure out how to set her DVR....

* * *

By the time Thanksgiving morning arrived, Claire had decided that the grease fumes at Murphy's must've gotten to her the other night. Because what else could have possibly possessed her to take responsibility for a pair of twelve-year-old boys for two hours?

However, a promise was a promise. So she girded her loins—with thermal long johns, actually—said goodbye to Wally, who twitched his tail at her from sunlit windowsill, then hied her thermalized booty to the school, where she was to collect the boys from Ethan so he could go on the bus with the team to the college stadium where the game was being played.

All three were in Ethan's office, the boys slumped in a pair of chairs against the wall, all knees and elbows as they played games on their phones. Spikes of dark blond hair seemed determined to escape from Harry's brightly patterned knit hat, complete with a fetching tassel and a pair of braided ties hanging down to his shoulders, while Finn's thin, freckled face with its high cheekbones peeked out from a fake fur–rimmed hood. Her stomach clutched again. What would they talk about? And what if they had to go to the bathroom—?

Ethan stood, his expression indicating he'd been doing some second-guessing of his own. In the grayish glow from the fluorescent lighting, he looked as though his responsibilities weighed on him like anvils. And yet, amusement still flickered in his eyes, the humor of a man trying to make the best of things.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” he said, a small smile touching his lips. As though he knew full well that right now she was seriously questioning her sanity. Then she thought,
Okay, this is nuts, I can handle a couple of kids. Right?

“You, too. Okay, guys—let's get a move on.”

“Wait,” Ethan said as his sons slowly roused themselves and got to their oversize feet, stretching and yawning. He pulled out his wallet, handed her a pair of bills. “The secret is to keep them fed. Early and often.”

“So I noticed. But I don't need—”

“Take the money. No arguments.”

“Yeesh, you're as bad as your dad,” she said, and his forehead knotted for a moment before he walked over, grabbed her hand and pressed the bills into it. And yeah, things fluttered. Strike that—more like jerked to attention with a
what the hell?

“Yes, I am. And you'll thank me later, trust me.”

“Hey, Coach,” one of his assistants said from the office door. “We're just waiting for you.”

“Be right there.” Then he turned a stern eye on his sons. “You guys listen to Miss Jacobs, you hear me? Do whatever she tells you.”

“Yeah, yeah, Dad,” Harry said. “We'll be good, promise.”

“Promise,” echoed Finn.

“Meet back here after?” he said, and Claire nodded, and then Ethan was gone and she was left alone with a pair of seventh-graders who were taller than she was, loping behind her like a pair of Great Dane puppies.

“Can we stop at McDonald's or someplace on the way there?” somebody said from the backseat after they were buckled in. “I'm starving.”

“Yeah, me, too,” chimed the other one, and Claire sighed.

“Sure thing,” she said, thinking,
Two hours. I can do this....

* * *

As usual, until the buzzer sounded at the end of the game—which had ended in a frustrating tie, since the overtime rules were suspended because of the holiday—Ethan had remained focused on the game, relying on a two-decades-old ability to compartmentalize his feelings. Not that he didn't occasionally wonder how Claire was getting on with the twins, but he'd refused to dwell on it. If she could handle a class of thirty hormonized juniors, she could handle a pair of twelve-year-old boys, right?

Even so, when they met up after the game he was grateful to see that she wasn't twitching
too
badly, although there was no denying the relief on her face when she caught sight of him. The same as there was no denying a brief but nearly overwhelming urge on his part to give her a hug, reassure her she'd done good. Since, after all, both boys were still with her and no one was missing a limb.

Instead, he settled for giving her a thumbs-up before sticking both hands into his jacket pockets, his chest twinging a little at her slightly frazzled smile.

“Sorry you guys didn't win,” she said, and he shrugged, even as he noted the “you guys” bit. As opposed to, say, “we.”

“It's okay, it happens. They both played good games, that's all. And it'll only fire up everybody even more next year.”

“You weren't kidding about the food consumption,” she said over the grunts and shouts of the boys' tussling with each other behind her. Merri had always said it was because they'd spent the first nine months of their lives entwined in the womb that they couldn't seem to stay away from each other for longer than thirty seconds, although Ethan suspected that was due more to their being boys than anything else. “Where on earth do they put it all?”

“We've long suspected they have extra stomachs. Like cows. So you survived, I see.”

“I did. Although I may need a nap before the day's out.” Harry poked Finn, and they were off, zooming around the nearly empty parking lot. Ethan heard Claire chuckle. “They're like a pair of cheetahs, aren't they?”

“Not as graceful, but yeah.” His eyes narrowed. “See how Finn keeps dodging Harry? It's still too early to tell, of course, but I think the kid has real potential as a wide receiver. Because of his agility,” he explained. “It's hard to catch him.”

She nodded. “And Harry?”

“Not sure yet about him. He likes the game well enough, but I don't think his heart's in it. Not like his brother. Baseball, though... Now, that, he loves. So we'll see.”

“And you're good with that?”

“Why wouldn't I be? Kid's gotta do what makes him happy.”

“I see,” she said, in that way women did when there was a lot more to say. “So. Your dad said to come around two or so, which gives me time to go back home and take that nap—”

“For real?”

She laughed. “In case you hadn't noticed, those two are major energy suckers. Don't get me wrong, they weren't any trouble—”

“You sure?”

“They're great kids, Ethan,” she said, then looked back at the boys. “And they think the world of you. Omigosh, they're so proud of their dad, when you're out there on the field... It's adorable.”

He huffed a laugh. “Now there's a word I haven't associated with those two since they were six months old.”

Laughing a little herself, she smiled up at him again. “We had fun. Yes, honestly. But I definitely need to recharge.” She made a face at what looked like a mustard stain on her jeans. “And change. I swear, I cannot be trusted around condiments.”

“I apologize for my father strong-arming you about coming to dinner.”

Her forehead knotted and she glanced up at him. Then, looking away, she smiled. “He is a hard man to say no to.”

“You're telling me,” Ethan muttered, and her eyes cut back to his. “As kids, we all quickly learned not to argue with him. It's that military training. It seeps into the blood.” He smiled. “
Flexible
was not a word any of us would have ever used to describe him.”

“As in strict?”

“Consistent was more like it. But it was that very consistency that saved so many kids' butts. Made them—us—feel...secure.”

“Isn't that what any parent wants for his kids?”

“Well, yeah. Of course. And he set a great example. But he can also be pushy as hell. So please don't feel you
have
to go.”

Their gazes tangled for a long moment before Claire said, very softly, “I don't.” Then she started walking backward toward her car, the breeze tugging at her curls. “So I'll see you there—?”

“Need directions?”

“I've got the address, it's not far from my place. Bye, guys!” she yelled to the kids, who waved over at her before trooping back to Ethan, panting and grinning.

Ethan grabbed Harry around the shoulders to give him a one-armed hug as Finn shoved his hands into his parka's pockets, his goofy grin more and more reminding Ethan of the one picture he had of his birth father—

“So what'd Miss Jacobs say?” Finn asked. “About us?”

“That you were good. Why?” Ethan said when the boys exchanged a glance. “Is there something I should know?”

“Nuh-uh,” Finn said, the sun glinting off his spiky red hair. “And Miss Jacobs... She's okay, too. Even if she did ask, like, a million questions so it was kinda hard to concentrate on the game. So when's dinner? I'm starving.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Harry said.

“I swear, I'm about to hook you two up to an IV,” Ethan muttered as they started across the lot toward his car, and the boys laughed, making him smile, even as it killed him that Merri was missing all this.

Then again, it occurred to him on the drive back to his dad's, maybe she wasn't. Maybe the dead really could keep tabs on the ones left behind, what the hell did he know? But even if Merri was somehow aware of what was going on, that didn't stop Ethan's pain, did it? Not entirely.

Not enough.

Certainly not enough to risk going through that particular brand of hell again, he thought as Claire's slightly shell-shocked expression, her obvious covering for the boys' antics, invaded his thoughts, making him smile in spite of himself. She was something else, that Claire.

Much like a certain pretty blonde who hadn't been like all the others either, a girl he'd fallen so hard for that when she left, he could barely get up again. Oh, he had, of course, for their kids' sakes. And here he was, plodding along day after day, doing what needed to be done... A poster child for the walking wounded. In more ways than one, he thought as his knee briefly throbbed from the morning's exertion.

Yeah, life was plenty good already at tripping up a person when he least expected it. To let himself get caught in the trap when he could see it, plain as day...

BOOK: Harlequin Special Edition November 2014 - Box Set 1 of 2: A Weaver Christmas Gift\The Soldier's Holiday Homecoming\Santa's Playbook
2.16Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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