His Christmas Angel. Michelle Douglas

doesn’t mean anything, a voice in his head said. Cassie wouldn’t want anyone torn limb from limb.

      It’s a start, his stubborn heart returned. ‘Me and Rufus here—’ Rufus wagged his tail ‘—have come to an understanding.’

      Cassie folded her arms. ‘Really?’

      ‘I scratch his belly and he doesn’t eat me. He’s a big pussycat.’

      ‘Correction. He eats pussycats. And speaking of cats…’

      She was right. ‘Let’s go.’ He hoped to hell they could find the kitten. He didn’t want to let her down. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t keep a closer eye on them for you.’

      ‘It’s not your fault.’ She locked the front door. ‘They’re the Houdini quartet. I bet it’s Rudolph who’s missing.’

      ‘Rudolph?’

      ‘The little one.’

      He opened the car door for her. ‘Yep.’

      ‘Do you know how long he’s been gone?’

      ‘He wasn’t with the others when I let them out of the laundry.’ She bit her lip and fresh wave of guilt engulfed him. The kitten could’ve been out all night.

      ‘You checked inside the washing machine?’

      ‘Yep.’ He’d turned the entire laundry upside down. ‘There’s a spot under the washing machine where the floorboards have perished. My guess is he wriggled out of there somehow. I mean, it’s only the smallest of gaps—’

      ‘Rudolph only needs the smallest of gaps.’ She sighed. ‘We’re lucky the others didn’t follow.’

      ‘Well, they won’t now. I’ve boarded it up.’

      A shadow fell across the car. ‘Is everything okay, Cass?’

      Cassie swung around. ‘Keith!’ She beamed at the other man and something dark and ugly slugged through Sol’s gut. She gestured to Sol. ‘Do you remember Sol Adams?’

      Sol sure as hell remembered Keith Sinclair, Brian’s best mate. Keith nodded, but didn’t offer his hand. Sol nodded back. He didn’t offer his hand either.

      ‘Is everything okay?’ Keith repeated.

      ‘Sure it is.’ Cassie’s smile widened. ‘I talked Sol here into letting me use his back veranda for my kittens, but one of them has got out.’

      ‘Again?’

      Again? Sol felt a little better. If these kittens had priors for escaping…

      ‘But they’re presents for your oldies.’

      Sol didn’t know whether to laugh or not at the look on Keith’s face.

      ‘I’m sure we’ll find it,’ Cassie soothed, but Keith had already hauled his mobile phone out of his pocket.

      ‘We’ll help.’

      ‘Really, Keith, it’s not necessary. You’ll be late for work.’

      ‘Not a problem, Cass. You know we’re here for you.’

      ‘But I—’

      ‘And we know how important those kittens are to you.’

      It took Keith less than ten minutes to have a search party organised. A search party that consisted of Brian’s old mates—all members of the Rugby League Club. Sol didn’t know what to say, and he sure didn’t know what to think. Were they all in love with Cassie? Was this some kind of weird collective courting ritual? The dark glares they tossed him had his mind working overtime.

      He turned to Cassie and she shrugged an apology. But her eyes danced, as if she wanted to burst out laughing. He glanced around again and had to clamp down on that same impulse. Six grown men crawled around Alec’s backyard calling, ‘Kitty, kitty. Here, kitty, kitty.’ Any of these men would rather be dead than seen cradling a tiny kitten in their arms, yet here they were—

      ‘What on earth is all this racket?’

      Alec burst out onto the back veranda still in his pyjamas, a scowl on his face and a kitten in his lap. Sol and Cassie stared at each other, then Cassie covered a grin with her hand. ‘Didn’t check the house, huh, Sol?’

      ‘How did it get inside? There’s no way—’

      ‘The damn thing was mewling out the front in the middle of the night,’ Alec grumbled.

      Cassie smiled. ‘So you went out and got him?’

      What Sol wouldn’t do to have her smile at him like that.

      ‘I had to,’ Alec grouched. ‘In the interests of peace and quiet and sleep.’

      Sol noticed he didn’t offer to hand the kitten back.

      ‘The search is over, boys,’ Cassie called out.

      ‘You want a lift home, Cass?’

      ‘No, thanks, Keith. I promised to help Alec out with something this morning.’

      She had?

      ‘You’ll make sure she gets home safe, Adams?’

      ‘Nah,’ some devil made him say, ‘she can catch a cab.’ All the men bristled, and he saw Cassie try to hide another grin. ‘Of course I’ll see her home.’

      Muttering, the men left. As the last car drove away, Sol turned to her, arms upraised. ‘What was that all about?’

      ‘You didn’t get it?’ She stared at him expectantly. ‘C’mon, Sol. All those guys idolised Brian, right?’

      He shrugged. ‘I guess.’

      ‘And I’m Brian’s widow.’ She enunciated each word with deliberate care.

      ‘Uh-huh.’ He could’ve done without that reminder.

      She gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘You still don’t get it? Brian put Schofield on the map and the town adored him for it. As his widow, they adore me too.’

      So they should. But for who she was, not because she’d married Brian Parker. Her fragrance curled around him as he followed her into the house. She smelt like Christmas—a cross between pinecones and plum pudding.

      ‘You have no idea how fabulous this widowhood caper is.’

      His jaw dropped. ‘Fabulous?’

      ‘You bet. I have a whole town that’ll do anything for me. You just saw.’

      He sure had.

      ‘I’m surrounded by people eager to help me out.’ She filled the kettle, then leant a hip against the kitchen sink. ‘If I don’t get a chance to walk Rufus, Max next door does it for me. Keith and Phillip take it in turns to mow my lawn. If I need an odd job done around the house it’s done—’ she snapped her fingers ‘—like that. Every home gardener in the neighbourhood supplies me with more fruit and veggies than I know what to do with. And eggs—I get lots of eggs.’ She grinned. ‘Everyone looks out for me.’

      Unease slugged through him. ‘And you like that?’ It’d suffocate the hell out of him.

      ‘I love it, and what’s more…’ she sent him a mischievous grin ‘…I don’t have the mean girls at school saying, “Poor Cassie; she still hasn’t found herself a man,” and I get it all without the bother of having a husband.’

      He gripped the back of the chair. ‘Was Brian a bother?’

      The curtain of hair immediately hid her face.

      Damn, damn and double damn. What had made her go and rattle on like that?

      ‘Cassie?’

      ‘From what I hear all husbands are