Мишель Дуглас: His Christmas Angel

‘Parker,’ she corrected.

Alec chuckled. ‘You’ll never be a Parker. They’re good citizens and they mind their own business.’

‘They’re nice people, and you wouldn’t feel ashamed of yourself if your conscience was clear,’ she shot right back at him.

Sol laughed. He couldn’t help it. ‘Surrender now,’ he advised Alec. ‘You’re never going to win against the likes of her.’ He doubted anyone could. ‘When did you go and get all bossy anyhow?’ he asked her.

She tilted her nose and kept on decorating the tree. She tossed him some tinsel. ‘Make yourself useful.’

‘She’s right, though, lad. I should never have whaled into you the way I did back then.’

Sol’s jaw dropped. He half turned from twirling tinsel around the tree, then stopped. Discomfort crawled up his backbone and circled his skull. He didn’t want to have this conversation. Not now, not ever.

‘I’m sorry for what I did.’

Sol kept twining tinsel around the tree. Then ran out of tinsel.

‘I don’t expect you to forgive me. What I did back then—it wasn’t right.’

Sol clenched his jaw. Started rearranging the tinsel.

‘But I want you to know I regret it and…and I wish I could undo it or something.’

Sol’s hands stilled. There was no mistaking the sincerity in Alec’s voice. Silence crept into the room. He could feel Cassie’s eyes on him, but he didn’t know what response she wanted him to give. Even if he did he couldn’t guarantee to give it.

She kicked his ankle. ‘Oops, sorry.’

Eyebrows rose in mock innocence. Sympathy, laughter and gentleness all danced in the velvet violet of her eyes and somehow soothed him. He found himself smiling.

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