Abby's Christmas

“Oh, you’re welcome.” As he reached the door, she said, “Are you sure you know the way? I could take you to the gym.”

Another smile, not quite so friendly. “I remember the way.” He stepped out before she could try again.

The bell for changing classes rang above his head—had it always been so loud? The halls filled with bodies and noise as kids exploded from every doorway. Noah passed through the crowd like a ghost, without really being seen. At the gym door, he met a swell of students pouring out of their daily class, their relief demonstrated by the rush. Standing to the side, waiting for the hall to clear, Noah reflected that he’d always liked gym class, welcomed the chance to blow off steam. He’d been good at sports, but never had the grades to make a team.

Which pretty much summed up his whole life.

Inside, the gym was blessedly quiet. He stood at the edge of the basketball court, fingering his industrial-size tape measure and taking in the banners hanging from the rafters that proclaimed New Skye High championships. Pictures of individual students who had exhibited special success hung on the wall. He recognized Rob Warren’s picture among them, with Rob as a tall, lanky basketball player. Though he’d been one of the “good” kids, Rob had also been Noah’s friend. Probably his only friend who invariably stayed on the right side of the law.

On that thought, Noah decided to start the job he’d come to do. He didn’t expect or intend to attend the dance, which made explaining to himself what he was doing here tough. But he’d agreed to help Kate Bell. The only virtue he claimed in life was sticking by his word.

He was down on one knee, recording the measurements he’d taken, when quick footsteps echoed at the far end of the gym.

“What are you doing in here?” Noah didn’t have to look up to identify the speaker. “Who gave you permission to enter the school building unescorted?” Principal Floyd stood over him, a heavy man breathing hard, red-faced and sweating.

Noah couldn’t get to his feet without shoving Floyd out of the way or crawling back. He wasn’t ready to do either. “The secretary at the front desk gave me permission. You know that, because she’s the one who told you I was in here.”

Floyd clenched his fists. “Dixon Bell had my permission to enter the school building. You, of all people, did not.”

“Dixon couldn’t come. If you get out of my way, I’ll be done in a couple of minutes and then I can get out of yours.”

“What are you doing back in town, anyway? I thought we’d gotten rid of you for good.”

Tired of looking up, Noah heaved to his feet, forcing Floyd to take a couple of steps back. “This is my hometown. Why shouldn’t I come back?”

“Because we don’t want you.” The principal stood with his fat hands on his dumpy hips. He’d gone bald in the last fifteen years. “Because you’re a troublemaker, and if you stick around, there’s going to trouble for everybody. Nobody in New Skye needs you.”

Noah had to admit the truth of that statement. “Don’t have a stroke, Mr. Floyd. I’m not interested in making trouble.” He ignored the flash of memory that gave him back the sweet, rich taste of Abby’s mouth.

“I’m going to stand right here until you’ve finished whatever it is you think you’re doing. And I’m going to keep my eye on you until you get off this campus. Don’t plan to come back. We do have security guards, and I will be leaving orders that you should not be admitted to the grounds or the building.”

“Knock yourself out.” Noah finished his measurements as slowly as he could, for the pleasure of watching Floyd fume. He only regretted the job didn’t take longer.

The walk back to the front of the school, however, seemed to take a century. Floyd didn’t actually handcuff Noah, but in every other way he acted like a prison guard, to the extent of waving off the kids who came at them with curious faces. They didn’t stop at the office, for which Noah was thankful, but continued through the front door onto the steps outside.

“Don’t come back,” Floyd warned again. “You’ve got no business at my school.”

“You’re right about that.” Noah took his time getting down the steps. At the bottom, he turned back. “I don’t suppose too many of the teachers remember me. But I did expect Ms. Lacey to be here for the rest of eternity. Did you fire her or did she finally get fed up with your pompous attitude and quit? She was a pretty good secretary, over all. Not to mention easy on the eyes.”

Floyd’s face turned an even darker red. “Your mouth was always one of your biggest problems, Blake. Ms. Lacey left us years ago, to be married. Now, get off school property before I call the police.”

That was a threat Noah took seriously. He didn’t rush to the bike, but he didn’t hesitate or falter, either. His unavoidable appearance at the police department would come all too soon.

“And stay off,” Floyd yelled over the rumble of the bike’s engine. Noah buckled his helmet, gave the principal a wave and wheeled out of the parking lot.

ANDY FLOYD HELD TRUE to his promise, watching until Noah Blake’s motorcycle had disappeared in a swirl of dust on the highway. Inside the warm school building, he scanned the halls for tardy students, but wasn’t lucky enough to see any he could nab. They had probably seen him first, and were hiding until he went back to his office.

When he reached his desk, he dropped into the chair and rubbed his hands over his face. The last person he’d expected or wanted to see this morning was Noah Blake. Nothing but trouble, he’d been, since the day he first set foot on school grounds.

Worse was the trouble he brought with him. Floyd grabbed the phone and pressed an auto-dial number. “Hey,” he told the man who answered. “We’ve got a problem.”

“What now?”

“Noah Blake is back.”

“Who?”

“Noah Blake. The kid who ran away before the 1989 graduation, remember? After the fire?”

“Shit.”

“Exactly.”

“What’s he want?”

“Who knows? But he looks like he usually gets whatever he sets his mind on. A real tough character.”

After a second, the man on the phone laughed. “A tough character, is he? Good for him.

“Because I’m a pretty tough character myself.”

FRIDAY MORNING, NOAH WENT to see the one person in town who knew the truth about him, the one person who had expected him to show his face in New Skye again.

Rob Warren lived in a peaceful neighborhood on the north side of downtown, in a comfortable-looking house surrounded by plenty of grass and trees. A green pine garland draped the porch rails, tied to the posts with big red bows. Lightbulbs twinkled in the garland and on the holly trees beside the front steps—nighttime would bring on a terrific light display, sure to please the kids. He’d always enjoyed Christmas lights himself.

Noah rang the doorbell, then stared at the huge wreath on the front door until the panel swung back with a draft of sharp, sweet pine scent and the jingle of small silver bells.

“Hey, Noah, good to see you. Come on in.”

Warm and simple, cinnamon-scented, Rob’s house immediately felt like home. Not any home Noah had ever experienced, but somehow he knew this was the way life was supposed to be. The Christmas tree by the front window stretched from floor to ceiling and, even in the daylight, shone with hundreds of lights, as well as ornaments of every kind. A nativity scene took up the entire mantel over the fireplace, complete with camels, cows, sheep, donkeys, chickens, dogs and angels. Noah smiled when he saw an obviously hand-made dog near the manger.

“Yeah, the kids wanted Buttercup, my sister’s golden retriever, at the stable,” Rob explained. “I whittled and Valerie painted her.” He shook his head. “Good thing we never thought about being artists. I don’t think we can claim a thimbleful of talent between us. Have a seat.”

Noah sat on the reclining armchair in the corner. “Looks like y’all will have a very merry Christmas morning.” Presents wrapped in colorful paper and decorated with ribbons and bows were piled high at the base of the tree.

“We’ve gone overboard, I guess. It’s so much fun to be a family—not two single parents with kids—that we’re a little crazy.” Rob shrugged, and his grin displayed not one morsel of regret. “That’s what credit cards are for. Want some coffee?”

“No, thanks. I’m great.” Between anxiety over this interview and the need to choke down his mother’s scrambled eggs, he’d downed four cups this morning.

“Okay, then.” Rob folded his long body onto the couch. “Thanks for coming here. My daughter Ginny had some surgery last week, and she’s still recuperating in bed.”

“I hope she’s okay.” Noah couldn’t imagine coping with a child who needed surgery. Maybe Rob didn’t have such an ideal life, after all?

“She’ll be better in a few months. Ginny has cerebral palsy, and as she grows the doctors want to make adjustments in her tendons and muscles. We don’t always agree with what they suggest, but she’s been through a growth spurt recently and it seemed like the right thing to do. Even this close to Christmas.”

Noah started to get up again. “Maybe this isn’t a good time—”

Rob waved him down. “No, no, we’re fine. This just happens to be my day to stay home—Valerie and I are alternating. Next week, my sister Jen will be off duty as an EMT, and she’ll stay with Ginny.” He smiled. “We’re blessed with family who help out. And each other—I don’t know what I’d do anymore without Valerie. Plus Grace and Connor, who will play with Ginny for hours while she’s in bed. When they’re not squabbling, of course.”

Rob picked up a file folder lying on the coffee table and paged through it. “So let’s get business out of the way and then maybe Ginny will be awake and I can introduce you. I haven’t told anybody you were coming back—haven’t mentioned, even to Valerie, that we’ve talked about this job. I figure your past is your business, and you’ll decide what you want people to know and when.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“I’ve got a lot of paperwork here, forms to be signed and then delivered to your parole officer, forms I’m supposed to keep, information you’re required to read. I guess we’ll go over it one page at a time, make sure we’ve got everything covered. But first…”

Setting the folder back on the table, Rob braced his elbows on his knees, linked his fingers and then looked straight into Noah’s face.

“First, I want to hear what you’ve been doing the last fifteen years or so. Tell me where you worked, where you lived, what you did in your spare time. Explain to me how in the world you ended up in prison.

“And then, give me one good reason I should trust you with a job.”

CHAPTER FOUR

ABBY CLOSED THE DINER at nine Friday night and went home. As soon as she turned the last corner, she saw the big Harley parked by the curb across from her dad’s house. Noah sat in the saddle, arms folded over his chest. He’d come for the dog, or to argue about the dog. She hadn’t yet forgiven him for the argument yesterday morning.

“What are you doing here?” She bumped the car door shut with her hip.

“I came to get the dog.”

“To do what with him? Your mother won’t let him in the house, remember?”

“I’ll hide him in my room.” His smile gleamed white for a second. “She’ll never know.”

Now she crossed her arms. “Are you crazy? Of course she’ll notice.”

“She never knew about the mice I kept, or the lizards. I had a rabbit for a couple of years without her finding out.”

“How in the world did you do that?”

“Kept my room clean, clothes washed, bed changed. She didn’t have a reason to come in and snoop, so the rabbit stayed in the closet except when I was there and locked the door.”

Abby couldn’t help but laugh. “All these years, the teenagers of the world never realized the secret to true privacy was simple neatness.”

“Give people what they want and they pretty much leave you alone.”

“Words of wisdom.” She stared at him through the darkness for a moment, watching the streetlight beam shimmer across his hair. “Well, come on in. Dad’s usually in bed by now, so the coast should be clear.”

She could have taken him around the back of the house to the sunporch. But she didn’t want to sneak Noah in, as if she were ashamed of him. Noah Blake was as good as anyone else in town.

Still, she was thankful to see no sign of her dad as she led Noah through the front rooms. When they reached the kitchen, she could hear the dog snuffling on the other side of the door to the porch. As soon as she opened that door, the little guy was all over Noah.

“Hey, buddy.” He knelt by the door so the dog could lick his face. “You’re looking pretty good after a couple of days of inside digs. You even got a bath.” Noah looked up at Abby. “That must have been fun. He can’t have had too many in his life.”

“I took him to a friend of mine who runs a dog-grooming business. She said he did okay. Maybe he belonged to people at one point and got lost.”

“Maybe. Thanks, anyway.” Cradling the dog against his chest, Noah got to his feet. “You’ve been a big help.”

He intended to go, and take the dog with him. They would both disappear from her life. After the way Noah had acted, she should be glad. But…

“Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Tea?”

He’d reached the door between the kitchen and the hallway. “No, thanks. I’m fine.”

“Hot chocolate?”

Noah stopped and turned back. “That’s a low blow.”

“Does it work?”

“As long as your dad won’t come in and yell at me.”

Abby closed the doors to the hall and to the dining room. “He’ll never know you’re here. Have a seat at the table. This’ll just take a second.”

Noah set the dog on the floor and took a chair. He observed the kitchen while she worked. After a few minutes of companionable silence, he said, “Let me guess—your favorite color is red.”

She grinned as she poured milk and cream into the chocolate mixture. “Can’t put anything over on you.”

“Red pots and pans, red-checked curtains, red apples on the table and a red rug on the floor. I’d have to be pretty dense.”

“Red dishes, too,” she pointed out, taking two big mugs out of a cabinet. “Add green napkins and I’m all decorated for Christmas.”

When the chocolate started to simmer, she moved the saucepan off the burner and poured the beverage into the cups. She handed him a mug, then sat across the table with her own. The dog settled between them on the red rug, his chin resting on one outstretched paw.

Noah took a sip of chocolate. “You sure do work miracles—this is even better than the stuff you made the other day.”

“At home, I can use expensive chocolate and cream. At the diner, I have to remember cost control.”

“It’s worth the price. Maybe you could put Abby’s Special Hot Chocolate on the menu and charge more.”

She shook her head. “Charlie’s pretty rigid about keeping prices down. He’s the boss.”

“So open your own place. Charge anything you want.”

“And compete with the Carolina Diner? I don’t think so.”

“You’ll just stick with the status quo?”

“I haven’t been offered any other options.” Beside them, the windowpane rattled in the wind. Abby glanced down at the dog. “It’s a cold night to take him out on the motorcycle. He doesn’t have too much hair.”

“I brought the backpack. He’ll be warm enough.”

“And he still doesn’t have a name.”

“No.” Noah stared down at the mutt. “Spot?”

She huffed in frustration. “He doesn’t have spots.”

“So?”

“A dog’s name is supposed to mean something. Everybody’s name should mean something.”

“Who says?”

“I do.” Holding her mug with both hands, she closed her eyes. “Loner? Ranger?”

“The Lone Ranger?” He grinned at her disgusted stare. “Why make such a big deal? Call him Harry.”

“But he’s not. How about Scruffy?”

“I’m not hanging around with a Scruffy.”

“I don’t see you hanging around with him at all.”

Noah glared at her over the top of his mug, then took a long swig, effectively hiding his face. They dropped the argument long enough to enjoy the hot chocolate, and Abby gathered the courage to ask a question.

“So tell me…where have you been for the last decade or so, anyway?”

“Around.” He set the drink on the table, pushing the handle of his mug with the pointer finger of one hand to the other, and back again.

When she didn’t say anything, he seemed to realize he hadn’t given enough of an answer. “Atlanta, mostly, for the last few years.”

“What do you do?”

“Do?”

She slapped her palm on the table. At their feet, the dog jumped and sat up. “You’re infuriating! You have to eat, right? What do you do to earn money?”

He chuckled at her temper tantrum. “Calm down, Abigail. I’ve worked a lot of different jobs over the years. Landscaping, moving furniture, construction, restaurant work—”

“Really? What kind?”

Noah gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Short-order cook, maître d’, dishwasher, waiter. I did some sous-chef work at one place in Florida, but didn’t stay long enough to get anywhere.”

“You’ve been to Florida? And Georgia. Where else?”

When he shook his head, she insisted. “Come on, Noah, tell me where all you’ve traveled. I’ve been stuck in this little town since the day I was born, and as far as I can tell, I’ll be here till I die. But I love hearing about other people’s adventures.”

Still, Noah hesitated. Abby didn’t really want to know about the majority of the adventures he’d had—too many low-rent apartments and bar fights, too much experience with the police and the prison system, too few good meals to eat and good people to talk to. Wherever he’d been, he hadn’t spent time on the right side of the tracks.

But he tried to give her what she wanted. “I hitched my way to California when I left here. Learned to surf and do some in-line skating.” The entire two years had passed in an alcoholic haze. “Then I went to Wyoming and learned to ski at Jackson Hole. I was a lift operator for a season.” He pretended to shiver. “Talk about cold.”

“I can’t imagine that much snow. And the Rocky Mountains—are they just spectacular?”

Somehow, she got him to describe what he’d seen of the Rockies…and Hawaii, where he’d only been able to afford a couple of months. He had stuff to tell about New York, Chicago, Dallas and San Antonio, too.

“And yeah, I have been overseas,” he said finally, getting to his feet. “But it’s after midnight and I need my beauty sleep. I’ll just take the mutt and go on back to my mom’s.”

“Wait.” Abby put her hand out as he bent to pick up the dog. “I—I feel bad about deceiving your mother.”

Noah straightened up, leaving the dog on the floor. “You wouldn’t be. Don’t worry about it.”

“But—” She grabbed his arm and held on tight. “Noah, why did you come home?”

“I…” He glanced away, rubbing a palm over his chin. “What difference does it make?”

“Because if you came to make peace with your mom, sneaking a dog into the house is not the way to go about it.”

He put his palm over her fingers where she clutched him. “Abigail, this isn’t your problem.”

Her hand turned, linking their fingers. “I’d…like to see you stay around. For…a while.”

Dangerous words. Her gold-green gaze searched his face, and Noah didn’t know what to say.

The next moment became even more dangerous, as Abby stood, stepped closer and brought the fingertips of her free hand to his cheek. She tilted her face up, looking at him through half-lowered lashes. “Would that be so bad?”

“I—” Resisting temptation had never been one of his strong points. The sane half of his brain fired every possible weapon of logic in an attempt to keep things from going any further. But Noah touched his mouth to Abby’s, and sanity popped like a soap bubble on the point of a pin.

She filled his arms sweetly, her generous breasts soft against his chest, her back supple and warm under his hands. Her kisses invited anything he chose to give, and Noah explored the entire spectrum, from tender to harsh, innocent to erotic, testing, playing…hell, resurrecting feelings he thought he’d killed years ago.

He came back to consciousness with one hand tangled in Abby’s hair and one hand under her shirt, cupping her breast, while he could feel both of her hands gripping his butt.

“Abigail.” He closed his mouth, settled for a few more innocent kisses, managed to drag his lips across her cheek, into her hair and finally away. “Not smart. Not smart at all.”

“Who cares about smart?” She pressed a deep kiss against the base of his throat, and he felt his knees start to shake.

“You. Me…maybe.” He groaned as her teeth nipped at his collarbone. She could devour him right here, right now, on her dad’s kitchen floor….

Shit. With a growl, Noah jerked his head back, gripped Abby’s shoulders and pushed her away to arm’s length. “Stop it. Just stop.”

She closed her hands around his wrists. Her lips were swollen, probably bruised, her eyelids heavy with desire. “Why?”

“Because your dad could decide to get a glass of water, for God’s sake. Because it would be criminal—” What a word to choose. “It would be ridiculous for this to go any further.”

Abby lifted her chin in defiance. “I’m not pretty enough?”

“What? Where’d that come from?”

“Not sexy enough? Talented enough? What does it take to catch Noah Blake’s interest?” She shook her head. “I wondered all through school what was wrong with me, that you wouldn’t actually ask for a date. I finally decided you just didn’t want to be seen with me in public.”

Noah swore again, dropped his hands from her shoulders and walked to the other side of the room. “Believe me, Abigail, you would have been a lot more miserable—then and now—if I had asked.”

He shut the hall door silently behind him, the front door not quite so gently. Only when he reached his bike did he realize he’d completely forgotten to take the dog with him.

ABBY USUALLY LIKED getting to the diner early on Saturday mornings to enjoy the peace and quiet before the big crowd started arriving around eight. Even in December, folks in New Skye got up early on Saturday to get breakfast before they went shopping, before the golf match or the horse show, before they spent the day decorating the house and yard for Christmas. And Abby usually enjoyed hearing about their plans for the day. This morning, after yet another sleepless night courtesy of Noah Blake, she didn’t want to wait tables, didn’t want to cook or clean up, didn’t want to hear about other people’s lives. She wanted to crawl back into bed, pull the blanket up to her eyebrows and sleep the day away.

Not an option, of course, especially when the rush started almost an hour early.

“If you’re cookin’, you’d better get hoppin’,” her dad ordered as he came into the kitchen. “I got two over medium, bacon, two scrambled, sausage, pancakes and ham, biscuits.”

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