His Christmas Angel. Michelle Douglas

was going to drink it straight from the can. Sol and Alec wouldn’t mind. Heck, they probably wouldn’t even notice.

      ‘Cheers.’ She raised the can in salute, then took a long swig, savouring its strong flavour. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and beamed at the two men.

      Sol grinned, as if her enthusiasm amused him. ‘Good?’

      ‘The best,’ she vowed. ‘Now, chop-chop. Haul that thing out of its box.’

      

      ‘Heavens, Alec,’ she breathed later, as she and Sol set about erecting the tree. ‘How tall is this thing?’

      ‘Nearly seven feet.’ An idle hand stroked the kitten.

      He didn’t strike Cassie as the kind of man who went in for Christmas trees—especially not enormous seven-foot monstrosities. But then she hadn’t thought he’d take to a kitten either.

      ‘Sol’s mum,’ he said, as if he could read the question in her face. ‘She got some freak in her head.’

      ‘As was her wont,’ she heard Sol mutter under his breath. She understood. Pearl Adams had been one erratic woman.

      ‘She decided we had to have a Christmas tree, and of course, with Pearl, it had to be the biggest.’ He took a slug of lemonade. ‘It only got put up once.’

      ‘Twice,’ Sol corrected, then looked as if he wished he hadn’t.

      An awkward silence enveloped the room. Cassie looked from one man to the other, both with their closed and shuttered faces. She took another swig of beer and revelled for a moment in her newfound sense of freedom. ‘Third time lucky, then. Isn’t that what they say?’

      Sol and Alec both looked charmingly nonplussed.

      ‘Ooh, look—you’ve even got lights.’ She pounced on them, then winked at Sol. ‘We don’t need a qualified electrician to wire up a tree. Come on—you start at the top. I won’t reach. And here—’ she handed Alec a box of red and green balls ‘—you start with these.’

      Sol wound the lights around the top of the tree, then handed them to her to arrange on the lower branches. She hummed Deck the Halls, and sensed rather than saw the two men roll their eyes at each other over her head.

      ‘Why are you so into Christmas and all anyway, girl?’ Alec grumbled as the kitten took a swipe at a Christmas ball.

      ‘Maybe ’cos I never had a proper one when I was growing up.’ She finished the lights and leaned back to survey their handiwork. Not bad. ‘So I guess I’m making up for lost time.’

      Alec stared at her for a moment and a shadow passed across his face. ‘You trying to help an old reprobate like me make up for lost time too?’

      

      Sol wouldn’t mind knowing what she was up to himself.

      ‘Ex-reprobate,’ Cassie corrected.

      She was right. Sol had to admit Alec had changed. A lot. And not just physically.

      ‘That mama of yours, Cassie,’ Alec shook his head. ‘She shoulda…’ He sighed. ‘You was always a nice kid.’

      ‘Yeah, I guess I was.’ She hung red and green balls on the branches Alec couldn’t reach. ‘So was Sol here.’

      Silence greeted her words, then Alec chuckled. ‘As a wee mite, if there was trouble to be found he’d be in the thick of it.’

      She turned, hands on hips. ‘He was a nice kid, Alec.’

      Alec’s gaze dropped. ‘Yeah, Cassie. Sol here was a nice kid too. I’ll grant you that.’

      Sol couldn’t believe his ears.

      ‘He deserved to have Christmas too.’

      ‘Yeah.’ Alec shifted in his wheelchair. ‘He did.’

      ‘And he didn’t deserve to have you beat up on him the way you used to.’

      What did she think she was doing? ‘Hell, Cassie,’ he shot out the corner of his mouth, ‘drop it. I thought we were going for Christmas spirit here. Just…’

      ‘Just what?’

      She raised an eyebrow. Somehow it only served to define the lush curve of her bottom lip. Sol swallowed. ‘Just keep your nose out.’

      Her eyes flashed fire. ‘It’s because people kept their noses out that I went hungry more often than I should have. I made a promise to myself way back then, Sol Adams, to never keep my nose out.’

      How did you argue with that?

      ‘She’s right, lad,’ Alec mumbled, before shooting a glare at Cassie. ‘You sure know how to make a man feel the lowest of the low, Cassie Campbell.’

      ‘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.