Abby's Christmas. Lynnette Kent
and her delicate pink ears, dusted with the same freckles that sprinkled her face. Her hazel eyes glowed as she talked, and a smile always hovered around her sweet, full lips. She was the most alive woman he’d ever seen. And the most desirable.
Not in this life. He gave himself a mental punch and refocused his attention on the discussion.
“What we need to decide is how to decorate the gym,” Jacquie said. “People will feel like they’re supposed to play basketball if we don’t do something.”
“We can hang mistletoe from the hoops.” Dixon winked at his wife, who blushed.
“It’s drafty in there, too.” Mary Rose pretended to shiver. “My dress has short sleeves and a low back.”
Pete put an arm around his wife and gave her a squeeze. “That’s why we’re going to do lots of dancing. Slow dancing.” Noah noticed for the first time that Pete’s left arm was in a sling, under which he wore a cast from shoulder to fingertips.
Abby rolled her eyes. “After two years, you two still act like newlyweds. Consider the rest of us who aren’t so besotted, why don’t you? Noah, what do you think?”
He put his hands up in defense. “I don’t have a clue about stuff like this.”
She frowned at him. “You’re not helping.”
That was supposed to bother him? He started to shrug, then realized he didn’t like disappointing Abby. “Well, you could make a smaller space within the gym, if you used dividers of some kind.”
“Dividers? Like screens?”
Noah nodded. “Yeah, or curtains. I think there are curtains on stands you can rent for that kind of thing.”
“Or we could build something easily enough,” Adam said. “Plywood sheets and two-by-fours would do the job. Paint them whatever color you want and make a room within a room. Good idea, Noah.”
“Red and green for the season?” Pete suggested.
“We could do holiday designs.” Mary Rose sat forward to look at her sister down the table. “Or use wallpaper.”
“Or wrapping paper. Or…” Kate thought for a second. “Or we could paint a whole scene on the boards. A party scene, with Christmas decorations and trees and people—”
“A snowy landscape,” Jacquie said, “with horses and sleighs and lighted houses.”
“We could do a street scene—downtown New Skye all decorated for a white Christmas.” Abby’s face shone with pleasure. “We haven’t had snow at Christmas here since I was six. But we could paint one, and maybe even scatter snowflakes on the floor and hang them from the ceiling. Coach Layman is making us put mats over the floor as it is, so piles of fake snow shouldn’t be a problem. And we could dance in the snow without getting cold!”
By the time the meeting broke up at almost eleven o’clock, a contest had been decided on. Individuals or groups could register to paint a Christmas-scene panel. The entry fees would add to the budget for the dance, Abby pointed out, and prizes would be awarded to each participant.
“Some can be gag gifts, like ‘Most Glitter.’” Abby grinned at Noah. “I love glitter.”
“‘Colored Inside the Lines,’” Noah suggested. “That’s the best some of us can hope for.” Abby and her friends burst out laughing, and he stared at them in surprise. His reputation did not include being funny.
Folks said good-night as Abby gathered up the dishes from the table and walked them into the kitchen. Before leaving, Dixon put a hand on Noah’s shoulder. “Speaking of basketball, we have a friendly game going on Saturday mornings about seven, over at the school. Pete usually plays with us, but he got hurt on the job a couple of weeks ago, so we’re short a man. Want to join us?”
More surprises. “I’m not sure—”
Dixon nodded. “Give me a call, let me know. Or just show up. Good to see you.”
“You, too.” He stared after the Bells for a minute, then followed Abby into the kitchen with the glasses and mugs from the table. “You don’t have to stay and wash up, do you? It’s late.”
“There’s a dishwasher.” She nodded toward the contraption in the back of the kitchen. “Load and run.”
Once she’d flipped the washer switch and locked the back door, Abby turned off the lights. With the only illumination coming from the dining room, the shadowed kitchen felt small. Intimate.
One-track mind. Noah leaned his hips back against the stainless-steel counter, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “I haven’t seen your dad. He still work here?”
“He does, but I make him go home for a couple of hours in the afternoon and for good about eight o’clock. He’s just not as young as he was.” She pulled the dark red coat he’d seen her in earlier out of the nearby closet, then turned to smile at him. “None of us are, I guess.”
“You work by yourself all the rest of the time?” He made a conscious decision not to help her with the coat, though she was struggling with the inside-out sleeves.
“I have help until about three in the afternoon. Billie Underwood comes in to cook up vegetables, pot roasts and stuff while I make the desserts. She goes home to take care of her grandkids after school, but still does a lot of baking and cooking for us then, too.” Still fighting with the coat, she blew a frustrated breath off her lower lip. “Would you please come over here and untangle this stupid cloth from my arm?”
Warily, Noah straightened up and stepped close enough to catch the collar of the coat and the end of the sleeve. “Why don’t you just stopping wiggling for a minute?”
Abby dropped her hands and was still. She’d gotten him where she wanted him, finally—alone in a dark room. This was the moment she’d been dreaming about for most of her life, at least since the first time she thought kissing a boy didn’t sound like the grossest idea on the planet.
But now she wasn’t sure what to do next. She’d never seduced a man before. As he dragged the coat off her shoulders and arm, she turned to face him, without stepping back.
He did, though, holding out the coat to the side and pulling the arms straight. “There.” He pushed the coat toward her. “Now you can put it on.”
Abby turned her back to him, extending her arms in a demand for help. After a pause, Noah sighed very loudly, slipped the sleeves over her hands and pulled the coat up. She didn’t take any responsibility for getting the collar up to her neck, and he huffed again as he settled the wool over her shoulders.
For a moment, nothing happened. Abby feared she’d lost.
Then she felt the lightest of touches in her hair. A slight tug told her he’d wrapped a strand around his finger. She could hear his breathing, rough in the dark. When she didn’t move away, he stroked his knuckles over her head, just above her ear, then his fingertips. His shaking fingertips.
Now she could turn, and did, setting her palms on his chest. She’d always wondered how far she would have to look up to see his face when they were this close. He was taller than she remembered. Taller than he looked. The perfect height for kissing, her head just level with his shoulder.
One of his hands had tangled in her hair. The other traveled down her arm to cup her elbow. His dark eyes were narrowed, suspicious. “What are you doing?”
“Welcoming you home,” she whispered back. Then she went up on tiptoe and pressed her mouth against Noah’s.
For a few miraculous seconds, he took everything. She offered comfort and he seized it all. Desire and his need flamed over them both. His mouth was firm, agile, demanding. Abby sank into the kiss, sank into Noah until his hands, his body were all that kept her upright. She would have given him whatever he wanted.
Abruptly, he shoved her