Jackie Braun - Christmas with Him

She smiled, looking pleased. “That was my thought, too. As for your dad, he was difficult. I went out on a limb with this since it cannot be returned, but since Clive seemed to be a real hockey fan, I thought he might appreciate it.”

She pulled a red game jersey from the bag that was on her lap.

“That’s Gordie Howe’s number,” Dawson said as he reached for it. “He was one of the all-time greats.”

“It’s a vintage National Hockey League sweater and it’s signed. I know the Wings aren’t your father’s favorite team, but the Avalanche wasn’t around back in the day.” Her tone turned wry. “I know this because I made a fool of myself in a sports memorabilia store downtown.”

Dawson chuckled. “Dad’s going to love it. He’ll argue, of course, that Ted Lindsay was actually the better player, but he’ll love it. Thank you.”

She rifled through another bag as he folded the jersey and set it aside.

“And here’s the Misty Stark purse I mentioned getting for your sister. I went with something medium-sized from the designer’s spring collection.”

“This spring?”

“I know someone who knows someone who owed that someone a really big favor.” She let out a sigh that was purely feminine. “Lisa’s going to love it.”

The handbag reminded Dawson of a pastel-colored sausage with handles. “I’ll have to take your word for it,” he said dryly.

“I’m still looking for something for your brother-in-law. Suggestions at this point would be appreciated. Christmas is only two weeks away.”

“I’ll give it some thought,” he replied.

“Maybe you could call your sister, pick her brain a little,” she suggested. “Or you could go to Sunday dinner this week and talk to her there.”

“I … I’ll see what I can do.”

“Okay. Thanks.” She leaned forward then to pull a large and very heavy shopping bag across the Turkish rug. “And now for the coup de grâce.”

“What is it?”

“Take a peek.”

He felt a bit like a kid himself when he did. Inside was the gaming system Brian and Colton had been raving about the night of the ball.

“No way!” Dawson said on a startled laugh. “I know you said you could get this for the boys, but … How on earth did you manage it?”

“Trade secret.” She offered a cagey smile. “I can’t give you specifics, but I can assure you that no laws were broken.”

“The boys are going to love this.” He grinned at her. “You’re something else.”

Eve focused her attention back on the bag. “I also picked up a few age-appropriate games to go with it that I think they will enjoy.”

Of course she had. The woman was nothing if not thorough. “You think of everything.”

“It’s my job,” she said lightly. “Besides, after the chemistry set fiasco I felt you needed to really go all out to reestablish yourself as a ‘cool’ uncle.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and offered a sheepish, “Thanks.”

Though he’d known it all along, it hit him suddenly that he wouldn’t be there to watch the boys open this gift. He wouldn’t be there to see any of his family members open their gifts. Just as he hadn’t been at his parents’ house on Christmas Day last year or the year before or …

As if she’d read his mind, Eve said, “It’s a shame you won’t be in town to see the boys tear into this. They’re going to be so excited.”

While his family gathered around a decorated Douglas fir tree, joking, laughing and exchanging presents, he would be alone in Cabo, as far away from snow and holiday merriment as he could possibly manage. Dawson pictured himself sitting poolside at the condo he’d rented, a tall glass of something chilled and fortified in one hand to help blot out the memories.

Eve was watching him, apparently waiting for him to say something in response. He gave a negligent shrug. “I’ll catch up with them after the holidays.”

“Okay. Terrific.” She nodded. He didn’t trust her easy agreement and for good reason. “You can see them at a Sunday dinner at your parents’ house.”

“Eve—”

She cut him off by slapping her knee in exaggerated fashion. “Oh, wait, I forgot. You don’t go to Sunday dinners at your parents’ house any longer.”

“Are you trying to make me feel bad?” he asked tightly. “I can assure you, there’s no need. I already do.”

Instead of apologizing, Eve said, “Good, then you understand exactly how your loved ones feel when you shut them out and stand them up not just on the holidays but on a regular basis throughout the year.”

On an oath, he launched to his feet. Irritation and guilt blended together, proving to be a volatile mix. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that it’s not polite to poke around in people’s private affairs?” he snapped.

“No. She didn’t.” Eve stood as well. “My mother died of a drug overdose when I was eight.”

He blanched. “God. I … I’m sorry.”

“No.” She kneaded her forehead. “I’m sorry. I played that like a damned trump card and it was a lousy thing to do. But I’m not sorry for poking around in your private affairs, as you put it.”

“Why does this matter to you?” he demanded.

“Because … because it …” Her next words nipped his anger in the bud. “Because you matter to me, Dawson. Okay? You matter.”

“Eve.” He closed his eyes and shook his head, unable or unwilling to process the emotions her words evoked. Or maybe he was just too afraid. After all, it was hard to cling tightly to the past when a part of him wanted to start reaching for the future.

“I probably shouldn’t tell you that,” she said quietly. He opened his eyes in time to watch her swallow and cross her arms over her chest. The move struck him as defensive rather than defiant, especially when she added, “Unfortunately, I have a very bad habit of leading with my heart where men are concerned. Just don’t let it go to your head.”

“I don’t know what to say,” he replied, though the truth was that Eve mattered to him, too. Indeed, in a very short period of time, she’d managed to thoroughly shake up the status quo of Dawson’s otherwise rigidly ordered life. He still wasn’t sure he liked it.

“Don’t say anything. I prefer to do all the talking anyway.” She pushed the hair back from her face and expelled a deep breath. “As my bombshell of a moment ago should make perfectly clear to you, I don’t come from the kind of family you do. After my mother died, my father took off and I was shuttled around from one relative to another, all of whom made it plain that they disapproved of my dad, had been disappointed in my mother and didn’t have very high hopes that I’d amount to much.”

“Aw, Eve.”

“Don’t feel sorry for me. That’s not the purpose behind my words. You’re lucky, Dawson. Very lucky to have people who care about you and who want to remain close.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry for me. I’ve accepted my family for what it is and my father for what he isn’t. He’s let grief and regrets rule and ruin his life. I don’t want to see you make the same mistake.” She blinked a couple of times in rapid succession and managed a smile. “Okay, that’s all I’m going to say on either subject.”

Dawson didn’t quite believe her. But before he could think of anything to say in response, Ingrid arrived in the doorway.

“Dinner is ready, Mr. Burke.”

Dawson’s formal dining room sported vaulted ceilings, a crystal chandelier and an oval cherry table that could comfortably accommodate a dozen guests. A gas fireplace and glowing candle centerpiece made the large room cozy. But it was the framed family portrait hanging over the mantel that made it personal.