of opinion,” he muttered under his breath as he watched her bottom sway as she wobbled.
She missed the last step and fell against him. He caught her tight and absently grabbed the horn of plenty, his heart pounding.
“Oops,” she said after the fact.
Some part of him took note of the sensation of her breasts against his chest, her pelvis meshed against his as she slid downward. His brain scrambled, but he fought it.
“I really would have been fine,” she insisted.
“Yeah,” he said, unable to keep the disbelief from his voice. “I’ll handle the rest of this.”
“You’re not being sexist, are you?” she demanded. “Because I really can do this.”
Cade felt his heart rate rise again. “Not sexist,” he said. “Just practical. I’m more athletic than you are.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I played soccer and—”
“I have more upper-body strength,” he said, deciding to end the argument once and for all.
He felt Abby’s admiring gaze over his broad shoulders. “I can’t argue with that,” she said.
He felt an odd thrill that he quickly dismissed. “I’ll go ahead and hang this horn of plenty,” he said. “Do you mind holding the ladder?”
“Not at all,” Abby said cheerfully.
Cade climbed the ladder and hung the horn of plenty. He descended to the floor. “My father told me you need a few things for your Thanksgiving show.”
Mrs. Wrenn jiggled the toddler and Abby extended her arms to the small boy. “Come here, Quentin.”
The toddler fell toward her and Abby laughed, catching him in her arms. “Hiya, sweetie,” she said.
The mocha-colored child beamed and giggled as Abby cradled him, clearly feeling safe with her. Cade saw a flash of Abby, laughing, burgeoning with pregnancy and another baby on her hip. Her brown eyes were sexy with humor and womanly awareness.
Cade shook his head, snapping him out of his crazy visual. “How can I help you, Mrs. Wrenn?”
The elderly woman beamed at him. “Thank you so much for coming. We need a ship hull and a table for the pilgrim and Native American dinner. It doesn’t have to be too special.”
“We can take care of that,” Cade said. “We’ll get a donated table and dress it up.”
“That would be wonderful,” Mrs. Wrenn said.
“And I’ll work out something with a ship’s hull during the next week. How many people do you want on it?”
Mrs. Wrenn winced. “Twenty.”
“Whoa,” he said. “Good to know. We can take care of that.”
Mrs. Wrenn gave a big sigh and clasped her hands together. “Thank you. I knew we could count on you, Cade. We want to give all of the children a chance to feel like stars.”
Cade nodded, catching Abby’s eye and feeling a flash of kinship with her. He was surrounded by people who either were or felt as if they needed to be stars, but he couldn’t be less interested. If he read Abby’s wry gaze correctly, then she felt the same way.
“I can do that,” he said.
“I knew you could,” Mrs. Wrenn said.
He glanced at Abby and the sexy look in her gaze took him off guard. He fastened his gaze on the graying Mrs. Wrenn. “Any particular colors you have in mind?”
The director shrugged. “Harvest colors.”
He nodded. “I’ll take that back to the shop. Anything else you need?”
“Nothing else I can think of,” Mrs. Wrenn said and glanced at Abby. “Is there anything else that comes to mind? Abby has been nice enough to fill in since my volunteer helper Mrs. Jones had to have bunion surgery.”
Abby glanced at the director, then looked at Cade. “Not a thing, but if you get lost, you can contact Mrs. Wrenn or me.”
“I don’t get lost,” Cade said.
“That’s a shame,” Abby said under her breath, then lifted her shoulders. “Then if you need suggestions.”
He shot her a sideways look. “Who does Quentin belong to?” he asked, unable to squelch his curiosity.
Abby’s gaze turned serious. “His mother, Lisa, has passed her G.E.D. and has completed her L.P.N. She wants to get her R.N. She’s just nineteen and one of my ROOTS girls. I told her I would step in as often as possible during her education. She’s halfway through her R.N.”
He felt a shot of admiration. “You’re a good friend.”
“She’s a good mom. It’s the least I can do.”
Cade’s respect for Abby grew. Big brown eyes, long brown hair, she was just Laila’s little sister, but now she seemed like so much more. He glanced at the toddler and couldn’t hold back a smile. “How are you babysitting with your courses?”
“Just call me Superwoman,” she deadpanned. “Kinda like you’re Superman.”
He felt a crazy hitch in his chest and inhaled quickly. “I’m no Superman.”
“Nobody else knows that,” she said and shifted the baby on her hip.
His mind flashed. Body. Baby. Come-hither smile. Heaven help him.
Cade cleared his throat. “I’ll get back to the shop.”
“Thank you for coming, Cade,” Mrs. Wrenn said in her squeaky voice.
“Let us know when you need a break,” Abby offered, her eyes lowered to a sexy half-mast.
Cade felt a rush of arousal race through him. He swore to himself and turned away. “See you ladies later,” he said.
“Anytime,” Abby said, and the sexy invitation sent his blood rushing to his groin. Cade swore again, but he suspected the fresh air might not cure his distraction.
Abby was surviving at home, but barely. Although she was happy her sister Laila had found true love and wanted to marry, it was hard to deal with the constant wedding plans. Plus, her cousins were headed down the aisle, too.
Enough was enough and it felt like pulling teeth to get Cade to look at her as if she was more than a fourth grader. Reality beckoned, however, and Abby was forced to join her family for a dinner with Jackson Traub and his sister, Rose. Jackson had managed what many other men had tried by winning over her sister Laila.
“To Laila and Jackson,” her father toasted, lifting his glass. “May your love be bigger than your wills.”
“Here,
