Christmas on Main Street (5 page)

How cou
ld a woman wearing a flashing Christmas tree sweater look so hot?

That’s the question Cole was asking himself as he watched Kelli bustle around getting the children all lined up to go onstage. As the youngest of the classes, they’d go on first, but from the way they were bouncing off the walls, it looked as if they’d each ingested a pound of sugar.

He figured a drill instructor with a busload of green recruits would have had an easier job, though she seemed to be not only taking it all in stride, but actually enjoying herself.

Until, as if she felt him looking at her, she glanced over at him.

He flashed her a friendly two-thumbs-up. Only to have her turn away and begin straightening a tiny angel’s halo.

So much for cupcake diplomacy.

Apparently, although she’d claimed otherwise, she was still holding a grudge from last Christmas. Which he couldn’t exactly make amends for since he still wasn’t sure what he’d done.

Okay, except get engaged. He’d rerun that scene over and over again in his head and still wasn’t certain what had happened. He’d thought for sure Kelli would’ve been happy for him. The same way he would have been happy for her if the situation had been reversed.

That thought had him wondering just how far things had gone between her and the principal. Had Archer taken her to bed yet? Cole hadn’t gotten the vibes that they’d actually gone there. But it was obvious during that little exchange on the pier that the guy had staked his claim. So, it was only a matter of time.

And what business is it of yours?
a nagging little voice in the back of his mind piped up.

It wasn’t. Not really. It wasn’t like he had any reason to be jealous. Or pissed.

She wasn’t his. She’d never been.

Whose fault is that?

“
Shut up,” he muttered.

“Did you say something, darling?” his grandmother, who was passing by with a pair of sparkly angel wings, asked.

“No. I was just talking to myself.”

“Doesn’t Kelli look festive?” she asked.

“She definitely lights up the room.” Literally.

When a mental image of slowly peeling that flashing sweater up her body, kissing each bit of soft rosy flesh while revealing whatever lace she might be wearing beneath it caused his jeans to go painfully tight, Cole wondered where the hell her boyfriend had taken off to. If Kelli
were
his woman, he sure as hell wouldn’t leave her alone where just any guy—like him, maybe—could hit on her with a toasted-coconut-topped piña colada cupcake.

The older woman laughed at that. “She does, indeed. And the children adore her. Watching her these past weeks as we’ve worked on the play has made me realize what a wonderful mother she’ll make.”

Her hair had darkened from the pale blond of childhood to a deep, rich honey. She’d tamed it into a complicated braid that reached to the middle of her back. He was envisioning unweaving it and letting the waves tumble over her bare shoulders when his grandmother’s words belatedly sank in.

His stomach dropped. Then clenched.

“She’s not pregnant?”

“Oh no.” A cool flood of relief swept over him as she waved away that question with a quick flick of the wrist. “Although”—she lowered her voice, as if any conversation could be kept private in this town—“there have been rumors that Bradford Archer was seen in Olson’s jewelry store last week.”

“I imagine Olson’s gets a lot of business this time of year,” Cole said through set teeth. Hadn’t he shopped there last time he’d been home? “Was he looking for a ring?”

“I’ve no idea.” She shrugged her shoulders. “There’s always speculation when two young people start seeing each other. You know how Shelter Bay is. Rumors are always flying around. And Connie Olson is neither confirming nor denying.”

“Well.” Cole blew out a breath as he considered the possibilities.

Which weren’t good. If she
did
end up getting engaged to the guy, she’d be making a terrible mistake. While Archer seemed nice enough, he was as bland as the tapioca pudding his mother used to make for him and his brothers whenever they’d get the flu.

Kelli was too full of life to spend the rest of her days married to man who couldn’t fully appreciate her. Or satisfy her. Even though Cole had never so much as kissed her (not that he hadn’t been sorely tempted earlier this evening), watching her now, with all her warmth and vibrant animation, he knew she’d wither away from boredom before her first anniversary.

Deciding that he wouldn’t be a true friend if he didn’t at least try to head her off at the pass before she made the same kind of impulsive, wrongheaded decision he’d made, Cole decided to invite her to breakfast at the Grateful Bread tomorrow morning.

Not a date, he’d assure her. Just a chance to catch up and clear the air. She’d always been levelheaded. Surely she’d understand that if he did return to town for good, they’d have to move on, not just for their own sakes, but also for their families, who’d be affected by any rift.

“Give the girl time,” his grandmother said. “She has a level enough head not to make a mistake that important.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” Damn, he’d lied more in the last few days than he had his entire last tour of duty in Afghanistan.

“You’re thinking about warning her against accepting Bradford Archer’s proposal,” Adèle said.

“I didn’t think anyone knew if there was going to be a proposal.”

“My point exactly. Kelli may look like spun cotton candy, but the girl’s always had a mind of her own. Like someone else I know,” she tacked on pointedly. “If you start trying to steer her in one direction, there’s a good chance she’ll take off entirely in the other.”

“We’re friends.
Were
anyway.”

“And if you want to be more, don’t go rushing things.”

“Who said I want it to be more?”

“Your face,” his grandmother said. “When she was opening that pink box, you were looking down at her as if she were an entire tray of cupcakes and you’d been starving for too long.”

She knew him too well. He’d learned as a kid, like when he’d tried to take the blame for Sax breaking the Carpenters’ front window with a curveball that had gone wildly out of control, that nothing got by Adèle Douchett.

When he and his brothers were young, she’d informed them that her own grandmère had been
a traiteur
, or healer, and seer. For years they’d been convinced that she truly did have eyes in the back of her head.

She didn’t need that extra set of eyes as she glanced over at the object of their discussion, who was—damn—smiling up at the principal who’d finally shown up. “Give it time to play out.”

If there was one thing being a Recon Marine had taught Cole, it was patience. And given how badly he’d screwed up last Christmas, he was willing to give his grandmother credit for knowing Kelli’s female mind better than he did.

“I don’t remember saying anything about wanting it to be more.”

“Just because I’m old doesn’t mean I can’t see what’s right in front of my eyes,” she said mildly. “Think of it as another mission,” she suggested. “Don’t go rushing in without taking time to plan your strategy. Take a few days at the cabin. Give her time to realize she misses you.” Her smile danced in her dark eyes. “And then you can come back and make your move.”

Even as he felt an unexpected and decidedly unwelcome whip-sting of jealousy as he watched Kelli merrily chatting away with Archer, Cole managed a laugh. “You know, Grandmère, if the Pentagon had you planning battle strategy, all our troops would’ve been home years ago.”

She went up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Now, where have I heard that before?”

Just when she
didn’t need any more stress in her life, having Cole bring her that cupcake had sent Kelli’s emotions on a roller coaster. She’d already made up her mind that as tempting as the man was, she was
not
going to allow him to break her heart again. Unfortunately, her heart didn’t seem to be listening to her head, because every time she just happened to look at the back of the room, where he was leaning against the wall, arms folded across his broad chest, it began tumbling like a snowball rolling down a very steep hill.

She was a grown woman, respected by both her peers and her students’ parents. And, as Brad was always telling her, loved by her students. She was smart, creative, and accomplished.

So how was it, she wondered, as Cole smiled and sent her rebellious heart tumbling yet again, that he could make her feel like an insecure, love-struck teenager?

As the stage lights came on and the music cued the beginning of her class’s part of the program, she dragged her attention back to the stage.

As predicted, her young actors’ performances weren’t perfect.

Unsurprisingly, when it was Allison’s turn to take the stage, she added a pirouette to her entrance that hadn’t been in Zelda’s choreography.

“C is for Christmas, the Christians’ big morn,” she sang out in a voice as clear as the bell in the tower of St. Andrew’s church. The stage lights hitting all those rhinestones and sparkles made her appear to twinkle. “When they celebrate the December night baby Jesus was born.” Adding a bit more choreography that hadn’t been in the original plans, she mimed rocking an infant, her expression as beatific as a Madonna.

Oh yes, Kelli thought with a blend of humor and emotion. Whatever the girl decided to do with her life, she was going to prove unstoppable. That was one of the things she loved most about her job. The chance to see the natural, ingrained sparks in children before other life expectations would come along to dampen them.

Johnny Duggan struggled for a moment over the pronunciation of Hanukkah’s dreidel
for the letter
D,
and Denisha Lincoln’s Kwanzaa costume headdress had teetered a bit dangerously as she’d spun like a colorful top onto the stage to announce the letter
K
, but neither slips were all that noticeable—and they didn’t come anywhere near last year’s reindeer collision.

They got through the rest of the alphabet with no serious hitches. When Jami Martin, looking darling in a blue snowsuit covered with white snowflakes, declared
Z
for “zero, a really cold day, the end of the alphabet and the end of our play,” Kelli let out a long, heartfelt sigh of relief as the children bowed and curtsied the way Zelda had taught them to a standing ovation from the audience.

Unable to resist, as she wildly clapped her hands, Kelli glanced over her shoulder toward the back of the cafeteria, wanting to share this moment with the one person who still, despite all her resolve, mattered most. And discovered that sometime during the performance, Cole had left the building.

An icy rain wa
s falling from a slate gray sky the next morning as Cole drove out of town, heading up into the mountains to the cabin. But on the way, he had a stop to make. He’d no sooner pulled his truck into the parking lot of Gardner Ford than Matt Carpenter came out the double glass door from the showroom floor.

“Hey, man,” he said. “That was quick.” He skimmed an appreciative look over the fire-engine red truck. “As much as I’d love to put you in some new wheels, that is one sweet ride.”

“I like it,” Cole said mildly. Which was a major understatement. He’d bought the truck last year, only to end up getting deployed shortly after driving it off the Oceanside Ford dealer’s lot.

“I can see why.” Matt ran an appreciative hand over the hood, which had been waxed and detailed to a mirror sheen. “And I guess this is where I’ve gotta tell you, man, you’d end up upside down in a trade because I can’t give you what it’s worth.”

“I didn’t come here to trade it in.”

“You’re going to go with them both? Wow, you must’ve gotten some beaucoup combat pay.”

“I’m not trading it in, because I’m not in the market for new wheels. Even ones as cool as a Mustang GT.” Which he’d admittedly lusted after back when Sax was tooling around Shelter Bay in his hot ‘97 white Cobra with the orange SS hood stripes.

“Then why
are
you here?”

“I need to talk with you about something.” He glanced around at the lot. Despite the holidays, or—since many of the cars were sporting bright red plastic bows on the roof—
because
of the season, the dealership seemed to be doing a brisk business. “But I guess it can wait, because I don’t want to cost you a potential sale.”

“Hey, man.” Matt shrugged. “Friendship trumps money any day. What would you say to taking a test drive?”

“The GT?”

A broad grin split Matt’s face. “Now, that’s what I’m talkin’ about. Did I mention it’s been tested at two hundred miles per hour on the test course? Let me just go get the keys.”

They took the Mustang down the narrow high cliff coast highway, wide tires hugging the rain-slick asphalt. Befitting the coiled cobra emblem on the fenders, it cornered as slickly as a killer snake around a switchback, which made Cole feel just like Steve McQueen racing through San Francisco. Although he hadn’t been born when
Bullitt
had appeared in theaters, he’d watched it more than once on DVD and had always considered it the gold standard of car chase scenes.

“This is damn tempting,” he admitted with a long, wistful sigh. What it was, was pure adrenaline candy. And way more Sax’s style than his. Which was almost enough to have him seriously trading in the pickup that had spent much of its life garaged while he’d been out fighting the war on terrorism.

Just thinking of the way heads would spin when he roared down Harbor Drive, all six hundred and fifty stallions straining for release—imagining all those busy tongues wagging about how steady-as-a-rock Cole Douchett must’ve gone crazy over there in the war—made him laugh.

“Something funny?” Matt asked.

“Just thinking what it’d feel like to drive this back to Camp Pendleton.” Cole rolled down the windows, letting in the crisp scent of fir and sea. When he hit the gas, going full throttle, the menacing engine growl escalated into a lionlike roar even as the rear wheels fishtailed on the wet pavement.

“It’s like the ultimate car.” Sensing some weakening, Matt deftly shifted into sales mode. “Both a mega chick magnet
and
every car guy’s wet dream,” he said as Cole corrected the near spin.

Damn.

That was not the image Cole wanted in his head for this conversation. A frown replaced the grin that had felt frozen in place on his face since he’d pulled out of the dealership parking lot.

“It’s about Kelli,” he began cautiously, feeling as if he were crossing this conversational minefield while holding a grenade with its pin pulled.

“Kelli?” Matt glanced over at him. “What about her?”

“How serious is she about that guy Archer?”

“The principal?” Matt had to shout to be heard over the engine, which could’ve drowned out an entire carrier deck of fighter jets taking off. “Hell, I don’t know. It’s not like she and I talk about stuff like that.”

“Well, you’ve got eyes, don’t you?”

“Sure, but—” Those eyes in question widened as comprehension dawned. “Whoa. Man. Are you saying you’re thinking of hitting on my sister?”

“No.” Yes. Kind of. Cole closed the windows again, which lowered the engine noise to a level less likely to induce ear hemorrhaging. “I’m on my way to the cabin for a few days.”

“Lucky guy. While you’re spending Christmas Eve cross-country skiing and vegging, I’m going to be having dinner at my in-laws’ and going home to put together a dollhouse and a pair of toddler balance bikes.”

“And you love it,” Cole said, feeling a little stir of envy.

Matt had what Cole had been picturing last Christmas when he’d proposed to Marcia. Okay, maybe three rug rats might be one more than had been framed in his imaginary Douchett family Christmas card, but if he had a wife like Matt’s, he damn well wouldn’t complain about dollhouses and toddler bikes.

“Abso-freaking-lutely,” the other man said. “Plus, there’s something to be said for sex on a regular basis.” That idea had him frowning. “Shit.”

“What?”

Matt scowled and raked a hand through his windblown hair. “Are you planning to have sex with my sister?”

“Now, see.” Cole blew out a breath. “That’s the problem. I don’t have any sisters, but if I did, I probably wouldn’t want to think about some guy doing them.”

“Thank you for putting that image in my head,” Matt said dryly, closing his eyes, as if that would help him unsee it. “I think, as soon as we get back to the dealership, I’m going drop by the parts department and find a sharp tool to jab into my brain to see if I can dislodge the picture of you and my baby sister. Naked. Together.”

“I’m not talking sex.” Another lie. Not that he was kidding anyone. They both knew damn well that he was. “I’m talking about maybe two people going to the New Year’s Eve dance together.”

“And getting up close and personal.” Matt pressed his fingers against his eyes. “Christ Almighty, Cole, you’re killing me here.”

Cole allowed himself a moment to imagine Kelli’s arms around his neck, her lush breasts pressed against his chest, her thighs moving against his. . . .

Oh yeah. Who was he trying to kid? They were definitely talking about sex.

“I just need to know two things.”

“I’m afraid to ask.” Matt blew out a long breath and shook his shoulders, like a boxer shaking off a punch. “And those would be?”

“How serious do you think she is about the teacher guy?”

“Principal,” Matt repeated.

“Whatever.” Cole shrugged.

“Like I said, I don’t know. But Meredith says he’s dull as dirt, so, if I have to venture a guess, I’d say he’s just a temporary deal until some guy more to her liking comes along.”

“Okay. The second question is whether you’d have a problem with that guy being me.”

Matt rubbed his chin as he thought that over. “Depends. Are you going to hurt her like you did last year?”

“Hey, in case you’ve forgotten, she was the one pissed at me.” He certainly hadn’t thrown that stupid ring box against his own chest.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought at the time, though I damn well couldn’t figure out why. Then Meredith told me you broke her heart.”

Hell. “Thanks for sharing.”

“You’re the one who brought my sister up in the first place,” Matt reminded Cole. “Seems when you pulled that ring out of the box, she thought it was for her.”

“Get out. You’re jerking my chain.”

“Nope. She told Meredith. Over a bottle of wine and a quart of Ben & Jerry’s while I wisely took the kids to a Disney flick to avoid exposing them to female tears and estrogen poisoning.”

Could things get any worse? No wonder she’d been so frosty at the parade and then had gone out of her way to ignore him at the program. That was why he’d bailed right after her students’ performances. No point hanging around and watching her cozy up to a guy who wouldn’t even know what to do with a woman that vibrant and filled with life.

“I swear I never did anything to give her that idea. I always treated her like a little sister. It would’ve been weird to think of her like, well,
that.
”

Which wasn’t precisely true. Because there’d been that out-of-the-blue moment, which had freaked him out as much as it seemed to be doing to her brother.

“There’s also the fact that when she turned sixteen and you noticed, I told you that if you so much as looked at her in
that way
, I’d break every bone in your body,” Matt reminded him.

“There is that,” Cole agreed, remembering the fraternal lecture all too well. Not that he’d needed the warning. The eight-year age difference had been major back then. Now that she was a very desirable twenty-five, not so much.

“She hasn’t said anything to me, but you know how women talk to each other about everything. Meredith says the principal’s probably on the way out,” Matt divulged. “Though she may wait until after New Year’s because hey, who wants to break up at Christmas?”

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Cole said. “About how you’d feel about her and me getting together.”

“That’s because I don’t know. Let me think about it.” He paused as Cole continued along the coast road. The rain was blowing in from the steely white-capped winter ocean. “Okay. I’ve thought about it.”

“And?”

“Since I don’t want her to end up an old maid—”

“I may not be married, but even I know you’d better not share that description with your wife,” Cole said.

“Yeah. PC can be a bitch, but I hear enough of that at home that I don’t need a lecture from you about it. My point is, I want Kelli to be happy. Which, for her, means marriage and kids. So, since that means her getting involved with some guy, I guess I’m okay with the idea of that guy being my best friend. With one caveat.”

“I’d expect nothing less.” Negotiating was, after all, woven into Matt Carpenter’s DNA. “What would that caveat be?”

“You may be my best friend, and I love you like a third brother. But if you make my baby sister cry again, man, I’m going to have no choice but to rip out your lung and stomp all over it.”

Mission accomplished, Cole spun the leather-covered steering wheel, making a wheel-squealing illegal U-turn to head back to the dealership. “Makes sense to me,” he agreed.