Lynnette Kent - Abby's Christmas

“Well, what the hell are you doing still living with your dad, anyway?” That question had been one of many bothering him last night. “You’re an adult—you should be out on your own.”

Abby froze in the act of refilling a napkin canister and stared at the man across the counter. He looked fierce, formidable. She was suddenly very aware of the strength in his hands and arms, the tension in his every move that spoke of experiences she didn’t know, couldn’t imagine.

“You don’t have the right to ask me that question.” She fought to keep her voice steady. “You don’t know anything about me. You never did, never wanted to.” Slamming the napkin holder onto the counter, she crumpled the empty napkin wrapper in her hands. “Leave a dollar by the register when you go.”

“Abby—” Noah stretched out a hand.

But she’d had all she could take for the morning. Ignoring the gesture and the tenderness in his voice, she stomped into the kitchen and back to the office behind it, slamming the door for good measure. Then she plopped down in the desk chair and clutched her hands in her hair, pulling until tears burned her eyes.

He might have been gone a long, long time, but as far as she could tell, Noah Blake was just as hard to handle as he had been fifteen years ago. Why in the world had she spent even one moment hoping for anything else?

WALKING INTO NEW SKYE HIGH was a lot like walking into a Georgia correctional institution for the first time. Noah took a deep breath, but there didn’t seem to be enough air to fill his lungs. He glanced behind him, just to be sure there were no chains on the door, no bars on the windows.

In the front office, he introduced himself to the young woman at the desk, someone he didn’t know.

“That’s right,” she said with a flirtatious smile. “Dixon Bell called just a few minutes ago to say you’d be coming in his place. Since he’d already spoken to Mr. Floyd about visiting the gym, I don’t think there’s any problem with you going on down there.” She nodded toward the closed door on her right, with its Principal Floyd sign. “He’s in conference with parents and a student. If you’d like to wait—”

“No, that’s okay.” Noah hid his appalled reaction to the idea of meeting the principal. “I’ll just walk down, do my job, then clear out.” He gave her the smile she wanted. “Thanks for your help.”

“Oh, you’re welcome.” As he reached the door, she said, “Are you sure you know the way? I could take you to the gym.”

Another smile, not quite so friendly. “I remember the way.” He stepped out before she could try again.

The bell for changing classes rang above his head—had it always been so loud? The halls filled with bodies and noise as kids exploded from every doorway. Noah passed through the crowd like a ghost, without really being seen. At the gym door, he met a swell of students pouring out of their daily class, their relief demonstrated by the rush. Standing to the side, waiting for the hall to clear, Noah reflected that he’d always liked gym class, welcomed the chance to blow off steam. He’d been good at sports, but never had the grades to make a team.

Which pretty much summed up his whole life.

Inside, the gym was blessedly quiet. He stood at the edge of the basketball court, fingering his industrial-size tape measure and taking in the banners hanging from the rafters that proclaimed New Skye High championships. Pictures of individual students who had exhibited special success hung on the wall. He recognized Rob Warren’s picture among them, with Rob as a tall, lanky basketball player. Though he’d been one of the “good” kids, Rob had also been Noah’s friend. Probably his only friend who invariably stayed on the right side of the law.

On that thought, Noah decided to start the job he’d come to do. He didn’t expect or intend to attend the dance, which made explaining to himself what he was doing here tough. But he’d agreed to help Kate Bell. The only virtue he claimed in life was sticking by his word.

He was down on one knee, recording the measurements he’d taken, when quick footsteps echoed at the far end of the gym.

“What are you doing in here?” Noah didn’t have to look up to identify the speaker. “Who gave you permission to enter the school building unescorted?” Principal Floyd stood over him, a heavy man breathing hard, red-faced and sweating.

Noah couldn’t get to his feet without shoving Floyd out of the way or crawling back. He wasn’t ready to do either. “The secretary at the front desk gave me permission. You know that, because she’s the one who told you I was in here.”

Floyd clenched his fists. “Dixon Bell had my permission to enter the school building. You, of all people, did not.”

“Dixon couldn’t come. If you get out of my way, I’ll be done in a couple of minutes and then I can get out of yours.”

“What are you doing back in town, anyway? I thought we’d gotten rid of you for good.”

Tired of looking up, Noah heaved to his feet, forcing Floyd to take a couple of steps back. “This is my hometown. Why shouldn’t I come back?”

“Because we don’t want you.” The principal stood with his fat hands on his dumpy hips. He’d gone bald in the last fifteen years. “Because you’re a troublemaker, and if you stick around, there’s going to trouble for everybody. Nobody in New Skye needs you.”

Noah had to admit the truth of that statement. “Don’t have a stroke, Mr. Floyd. I’m not interested in making trouble.” He ignored the flash of memory that gave him back the sweet, rich taste of Abby’s mouth.

“I’m going to stand right here until you’ve finished whatever it is you think you’re doing. And I’m going to keep my eye on you until you get off this campus. Don’t plan to come back. We do have security guards, and I will be leaving orders that you should not be admitted to the grounds or the building.”

“Knock yourself out.” Noah finished his measurements as slowly as he could, for the pleasure of watching Floyd fume. He only regretted the job didn’t take longer.

The walk back to the front of the school, however, seemed to take a century. Floyd didn’t actually handcuff Noah, but in every other way he acted like a prison guard, to the extent of waving off the kids who came at them with curious faces. They didn’t stop at the office, for which Noah was thankful, but continued through the front door onto the steps outside.

“Don’t come back,” Floyd warned again. “You’ve got no business at my school.”

“You’re right about that.” Noah took his time getting down the steps. At the bottom, he turned back. “I don’t suppose too many of the teachers remember me. But I did expect Ms. Lacey to be here for the rest of eternity. Did you fire her or did she finally get fed up with your pompous attitude and quit? She was a pretty good secretary, over all. Not to mention easy on the eyes.”

Floyd’s face turned an even darker red. “Your mouth was always one of your biggest problems, Blake. Ms. Lacey left us years ago, to be married. Now, get off school property before I call the police.”

That was a threat Noah took seriously. He didn’t rush to the bike, but he didn’t hesitate or falter, either. His unavoidable appearance at the police department would come all too soon.

“And stay off,” Floyd yelled over the rumble of the bike’s engine. Noah buckled his helmet, gave the principal a wave and wheeled out of the parking lot.

ANDY FLOYD HELD TRUE to his promise, watching until Noah Blake’s motorcycle had disappeared in a swirl of dust on the highway. Inside the warm school building, he scanned the halls for tardy students, but wasn’t lucky enough to see any he could nab. They had probably seen him first, and were hiding until he went back to his office.