The Christmas He Loved Her (Bad Boys of Crystal Lake 2)

Christ, but the kid looked earnest. His pale skin was dusted with light freckles, his round cheeks rosy.

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“Because I didn’t.”

Cain looked inside but couldn’t see shit. The reflection of the sun didn’t allow it.

“Yeah, I did.” A wistful smile crossed his face, and he glanced down at the kid. “Your mom’s a smart lady. He was a bona fide hero.” He nodded. “I was about your age the first time I met the Edwards twins.”

The young boy smiled, but it faded as he glanced toward the door. “I should go. My mom is gonna wonder where I am.”

They both turned when the front door opened and a slender woman stepped onto the porch. She wore a simple black skirt cut to just above her knee, a fitted blouse in a muted moss green, and low-heeled shoes. Her hair was held back in a ponytail—one that emphasized the delicate bone structure of her face—and was dark, a shade between crimson and brown, more like burnished amber shot through with bits of sun. Her skin was the color of cream, and when she turned toward them, Cain felt a jolt as their eyes connected.

Hers were blue—like liquid navy—feathered by long, dark lashes and delicately arched eyebrows. She was, without a doubt, one hell of a looker. A little on the thin side for his tastes, but Cain’s interest was piqued.

Her eyes widened for the briefest of moments, and then she turned to the boy, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. “Michael John O’Rourke! What are you doing out here”—her voice lowered—“and where is your tie?”

She had a slight Southern drawl that rolled beneath her words. It was melodic and soft.

“It was tight and, uh, I took it off and I, um…” He tapped his foot nervously and shrugged. “Well, I’m not sure where I left it.”

The boy shot a quick look his way, and it took some effort for Cain to keep a straight face.

The woman sighed. “Michael, this is a serious occasion.” She walked over to them, ignored Cain, and bent forward to fix a stray curl that rested upon the boy’s forehead before fastening the top button of his shirt.

Her scent was subtle, fresh with a hint of exotic. Cain liked it.

“I know, Mom. But, like, can’t I be serious without a tie?”

A ghost of a smile tugged the corner of her mouth and Cain smiled. “He’s got a point.” Cain motioned toward his tieless shirt.

She straightened, though her hand never left her son as her eyes traveled the length of him. Gone was the smile. The lady was all business. “And you are?”

Cain opened his mouth and then closed it. What to say? Obviously she wasn’t a townie, because he’d sure as hell have remembered someone like her. For the moment he didn’t feel like sharing his relationship with Jesse, didn’t feel like owning up to his hell-raising days.

“A friend of the family,” he answered instead.

She grabbed her son and pushed him toward the door. The boy opened it and a soft swell of voices spilled outside. He ran inside, but the woman paused. She looked at Cain as if he had two heads.

“Aren’t you coming inside, then?”

Her abrupt tone kick-started him into action. Cain exhaled and followed in their footsteps.

The Edwards home boasted a grand foyer—the focal point, a massive centered staircase that led to the upper level. He took a second and glanced around.

The walls were no longer taupe and had been done over in pale, cool greens. The wood accents—the railing and trim—once oak, were now dark ebony, and the ceramic floors had been replaced with a funky hardwood. It was similar to what was in the house he’d shared with his ex-wife, but damned if he remembered what it was called.

Music wafted from the back of the house, and he assumed a good many people were gathered outside on the deck. It was the first week in June, so the weather was warm and the Edwardses’ yard was renowned for its landscaping, pool, tennis courts, and prime lake frontage.

It was the sweetest spot on Crystal Lake and one not many could afford.

There were quite a few folks talking quietly. He felt their interest. It was in the understated whispers and covert glances directed his way. Cain ran his hand over the day-old stubble that graced his chin and winced. Shit, he should have at least shaved.

The woman and little boy disappeared among the crowd, and he took a step forward, suddenly unsure of himself. He was surrounded by faces he recognized, yet he felt like an outsider. Again he fought the sliver of doubt.

Maybe he should have stayed away. Sent a card or a flower arrangement.

“Cain, you came.”