Finally, when she couldn’t stand not to know any longer, she asked, “You want me to stay, too?”
He avoided eye contact. “It’s a dangerous neighborhood.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Yes!” he shouted, as if it made him mad to have to say it. “I want you to stay.”
“Why?” She wasn’t going to make it easy for him.
“Because you’re a damn good teacher and there isn’t a student in your class who didn’t protest when they learned you were leaving.”
She took two steps away from the door. “I’m not talking about my students. I’m asking why you don’t want me to leave.”
“Me?” He swallowed uncomfortably, then pointed to the door. “Father Grady might have a problem driving the bus. It would be better if we continued this conversation some other time.”
She laughed softly. “Not on your life, buster.”
To her amazement, Roberto broke out laughing. “Buster. That’s exactly why I love you so damn much, Brynn Cassidy. The worst you can think to call me is Buster.” He whispered something in Spanish.
“If you love me, then why were you so eager to be rid of me?”
He channeled his fingers through his hair and sighed audibly. “Because I love you. This neighborhood has a way of dragging people down. Eventually it would happen to you, and I couldn’t bear to sit by and watch that.”
“As long as you’re with me that’s not going to happen. We can help one another.”
He buried both hands deep in his pockets. “I’d like to be self-sacrificing and send you back to that fancy girls’ school, but I can’t. The problem is I need you as much as Emilio and his friends.”
“That’s a start,” she said, smiling through her tears. She held her arms out to him.
Roberto reached for her and kissed her gently.
“I need you, too, Roberto . . . so much,” she whispered, kissing him freely and fully.
Roberto groaned and forced her lips to part beneath his. His tongue probed hers in a silken dance, then plunged forward, unleashing a fiery passion.
At last, groaning, he broke away. “Come with me.”
“Where?”
“Onto the bus. Father Grady can’t drive worth beans.”
“Where are we headed?”
“Church,” he told her. “Do you mind?”
She laughed. “No, I don’t mind. It seems like the perfect place for us to be on Christmas Eve.”
The weather was perfect for such a night. Trey glanced at the clear, bright sky as he made his way from the house to the barn. When he’d finished feeding the horses and settling them down for the evening, he planned on stopping off at the Lancasters’ for some of Dillon’s wassail. It had become tradition that he join Jenny’s family for the Christmas Eve celebration.
He’d eat dinner with them, and then they’d attend church services together. The last couple of years the family had invited him to stay for the gift opening, but Trey had refused.
He’d often spent time with the Lancasters on the off chance they could tell him something about Jenny. This year he knew everything there was to know. He’d go for dinner and attend the evening church service, and then, as always, he’d head home. Alone.
Jenny hadn’t contacted him since he’d left New York, not that he’d expected she would.
Pausing in the hallway, Trey picked up the box of fancy chocolates he’d bought for Jenny’s mother. He figured every woman deserved a box of expensive French candies one time in her life. Besides, he owed Paula.
The Lancaster house was bright with outside lights. Trey never could pull into their yard and not think of Jenny. The tightness around his heart felt almost physical as he climbed down from his truck and headed inside.
His timing was perfect. Charlie, Jenny’s brother, and his fiancée, Mary Lou, were carrying serving dishes to the dining room table.
“Hello, Trey. Welcome.” Paula kissed him on the cheek. Trey tucked the chocolates under the tree and shook Dillon’s hand.
“Think it’ll snow?” Dillon asked. It was the same question his friend proposed every Christmas Eve.
“Not this year,” Trey told him, knowing it would disappoint Dillon.
The smells coming from the kitchen were tantalizing enough to convince a confirmed bachelor to find a wife.
Dillon offered him a glass of hot wassail, but Trey declined. He didn’t figure there was enough time to finish it before dinner was served.
“Mom, are these the linen napkins you were looking for earlier?” a soft voice asked from the vicinity of the hallway.
It was a good thing Trey hadn’t been holding a drink. Sure as hell, he would have dropped it. The voice he heard belonged to Jenny. She paused momentarily when she walked into the room. “Hello, Trey. Merry Christmas.”
Trey felt as if someone had knocked him behind the knees with a baseball bat. He stared at Dillon. “What’s Jenny doing home?”
Dillon looked well pleased. “You’ll have to ask her that yourself.”
Trey intended on doing exactly that. He followed her into the kitchen and stood behind her while she dished up a mound of steaming mashed potatoes.
“When did you arrive?” he asked.
“This morning.” She answered him as though there were a hundred other more important items occupying her mind at that moment. “I do need to talk to you, however. I didn’t take kindly to your leaving New York without saying good-bye.”
“Trey, would you mind putting the relish plate on the table?” Paula asked.