Cole's Christmas Wish (7 page)

Blue, but just barely.

“I would like that very much,” she said. “Thank you, Cole.”

“You’re welcome, Rach.”

Later, when they were leaving the store with only the vase in
tow, she slipped
her
hand in his. Something she
hadn’t done on her own since...well, since before.

She’d hug him, sure. She’d accept his hand when he reached for
hers, absolutely. But this...reaching for him on her own accord was something
new. Something different. Something...hopeful.

It was enough. For now.

* * *

One gift. After two-and-half hours of “roaming and
talking,” they’d managed to purchase a solitary present for the woman now known
as Mary. Why Cole had seemed so delighted by the snow globe was beyond Rachel’s
understanding. But he’d honed in on the darn thing as if it were made of gold
and coated in diamonds.

The globe was cute, she supposed. It consisted of three
separate globes, each depicting a separate scene, put together in the form of a
snowman. The scene in the bottom globe was that of a group of kids playing in
the snow, sledding, snowball fights and the like. In the middle globe, a pond
with more kids ice-skating took center stage, while the top globe—the snowman’s
face, as it were—showed Santa in his sleigh, flying through a snowy, star-filled
night.

So yes, cute. But romantic? Not in Rachel’s mind, and she’d
told Cole so. Twice. He’d ignored her and bought the overpriced tchotchke
anyway, which made her wonder why he’d asked for her advice in the first place.
But he had and she’d agreed, so whether he listened to her or not was out of her
control. She was good and stuck.

“How many gifts did you say you needed?” she asked. They were
at Foster’s, which was packed with people, grabbing a quick dinner before
heading out to do more shopping. Her mother would be in heaven. Ha. That was a
thought. If Cole still required help when Candace Merriday—shopper
extraordinaire—arrived in town,
she
could step
in.

“How many more days until Christmas?” Cole asked from across
the table. He did the math before Rachel could respond. “Not counting today, we
have...ten days left, right? So minus the snowman that makes...nine.” A pained
expression crossed his face. “Ouch.”

“Yeah, my sentiments exactly.”

“Well, I have the snowman to give her tomorrow. It would be
good to find at least one more tonight, so I’m one ahead.”

“Let’s aim for four more tonight, the final five tomorrow, and
call the job done. Otherwise—” she lowered her voice, going for a menacing growl
“—I’m turning you over to my mom when she gets here.”

Cole winced as her arrow hit home, causing her to grin. She’d
brought him up to speed on her mother’s phone call and impending visit earlier,
somewhere in between store number two and store number three. Both of which were
nothing but a foggy haze at this point.

“Um. No. You agreed to help, and I’m holding you to that.” Cole
lifted his mug of beer and took a swig. “But maybe it’s time to have that
discussion you mentioned earlier. See if we can nail down a few ideas before
heading out again.”

“Wow. I’m...shocked.” Following his lead, she swallowed a
mouthful of her beer before saying, “Finally, you’re taking some of my
advice.”

“Don’t tell me you’re still bugged I bought the snowman?”

“It isn’t romantic! You specifically said you wanted my help in
romancing
Mary. Unless Mary is a ten-year-old
girl, and if so buddy, we have other issues to deal with, a toy is not
romantic.”

“For one, a snow globe isn’t a toy. It’s a...um...decorative
item.”

“It’s a toy that camouflages itself as a decorative item.”

“For two,” he said as if she hadn’t interrupted, “there are
memories attached to that particular snow globe that
are
romantic. We met while—” He broke off and shook his head, clamped his
lips shut. “Trust me. It’s romantic.”

“What were you going to say, Cole?” She was ravenous for
information about Mary, about Cole’s relationship with her. Up until now, and
that bit about Mary’s freaking smile lighting up a room, the man had stayed
annoyingly silent on the subject. “You met...?”

“Outside. In the winter.” His Adam’s apple bobbed with another
deep swallow of his beer. “So...ah...there was snow. And where there’s snow,
there’s kids doing snowlike stuff. The snow globe represents all of that.
Therefore, it’s romantic.”

“Snowlike stuff is very romantic,” she said as seriously as she
could pull off. “I mean, come on. We have snow...and we have
stuff
. How did I miss that connection before?”

“Sarcasm, Rachel? Really?” he said in an annoyingly accurate
imitation of her mother. She considered smacking his arm again but didn’t. She
flat-out didn’t have the energy. Raising his hands in defeat, he said, “You tell
me, then. What type of gift do you consider romantic?”

The answer came to her quickly. She reached under the table and
grasped the bag she’d dropped by her feet. “This,” she said softly, removing and
then placing the vase on the table between them. “Combined with what you said, I
consider this a romantic gift.”

Something intense and dark entered his eyes, colored his
expression. He leaned forward, propped his elbows on the table and seemed to
look straight into her soul. Everything about the moment—the look and the
man—seared into her, heating her from the inside out.

Longing struck, hard and fast, curling in her belly and
spreading through her entire body inch by inch, until every part of her trembled
with need, with desire. Oh, no. This wouldn’t do at all. Cole was taken. Heck,
she
was taken.

“You consider the vase a romantic gift?” Cole asked without
dropping his gaze.

“Now who’s repeating statements in the form of a question?” she
asked in a light, breezy tone meant to mask her discomfort. “If you and I were
involved in a relationship, then yes, I would consider the vase romantic
and...sweet. Because of what you said about my eyes. But, you know, we’re not
involved in a relationship.”

He held her eyes with his for another breath-stealing second
before returning to his side of the table. “Same concept,” he said, his voice
just this side of gruff. “The sentiment is what’s romantic, and therefore, the
snowman is.” Another wink and that good ole boy smirk. “I win.”

“Yes,” she said, giving up on her earlier denials. He’d proven
his point. “You do.” Then, seeing Cole’s mom walking toward them with a tray
laden with food, she relaxed. Surely, by the time they finished eating, her body
would have returned to its normal, non-nuclear state. “Your mom is bringing our
food,” she said to Cole. “So behave.”

“Why, darlin’, I always behave,” Cole said as he pivoted in his
seat to greet his mother. “I didn’t think you were working tonight or we
would’ve come back and said hi.”

“Two of our part-timers called in sick,” Margaret said. She
smiled at Rachel. “It’s good to see you, sweetheart.” Without asking which order
belonged to who, she placed Cole’s burger and thick-sliced chips in front of him
and Rachel’s soup and salad in front of her. “Your parents in town for the
holidays, or is it just you?”

“Mom will be here in a few days, I think.” For some reason that
Rachel didn’t dare speculate on, she didn’t mention Andrew. “Dad will probably
be here soon after.”

“That’s nice. Families should be together during Christmas.”
Rumpling her son’s hair with one hand, she said, “Did this one tell you we have
family arriving next week? His aunt and uncle, their kids, their spouses and two
babies. We’ll have a full house.”

“Uh, no. He didn’t mention it, but that’s great.”

“I have an idea! You and your parents should join us for
Christmas dinner,” Margaret said. “We’ll have plenty of food, and—as they
say—the more the merrier. Think about it, won’t you? We’d love to have you.
Right, Cole?”

“Absolutely,” Cole said. “Great idea, Mom.”

“I...don’t know what our plans are yet,” Rachel said quickly.
She would love nothing more than to be a part of the Fosters’ Christmas, but
Mary
would certainly be there. With a diamond
ring on her finger, no less. “But yes, I’ll mention the invitation to my
parents.” Then, belatedly, she remembered to say, “Thank you for the invitation.
It’s very thoughtful.”

Margaret balanced the now empty tray on one hip. “So, what are
you two up to tonight?”

“Eating,” Cole said shortly. “And then back to shopping.”

“For his girlfriend,” Rachel piped in, unable to stop herself.
“I have discovered that your son is rather picky when it comes to selecting
gifts.”

Margaret laughed. “He’s picky about a lot of things, not just
shopping.” She rumpled his hair again. “Women, for one. Why, I was beginning to
wonder if he would ever fall in love. Or, for that matter, admit it once he had.
Now that he has, I’m just so pleased.”

“Mom,” Cole said in a semi-warning sort of way. “I’m sure
Rachel doesn’t want to hear about any of this—”

“To the contrary!” Rachel inserted. Beaming a bright smile at
Margaret, she gestured for her to continue. “Please, I’d love to hear more about
Cole’s girlfriend. He hasn’t been that forthcoming as of yet.”

“Oh, I adore her. She’s intelligent and warm-hearted, has a
great sense of humor, and frankly,” Margaret said, tossing her son an indulgent
look, “she might be the only woman in the world capable of going toe-to-toe with
this one here. So yes, I’m delighted by his choice.”

Well, there went the idea that his family didn’t approve.

“That’s great. Really, really great,” Rachel said, attempting
to keep the sourness on her tongue from leeching into her voice. “Really.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Nodding toward a customer at a nearby table
who’d gestured for Margaret’s attention, she said, “Well, work is calling. You
two have a terrific rest of the evening. And Rachel? Please give your parents my
best.”

“I will,” Rachel said as Cole’s mom scurried off. “I’ve always
liked your mother,” she then said to Cole. “Your entire family, actually.”

“They all like you, too.”

The next several minutes were—thankfully—spent quietly eating.
Strangely, as hungry as she’d been when they’d entered Foster’s, now Rachel
found she didn’t have much of an appetite. Something was bugging her, but she
couldn’t quite put her finger on what.

Well, okay. She couldn’t say she’d come to terms with Cole
falling in love, because she hadn’t. But that didn’t fully explain the weird
vibe she had. She picked at her salad, trying to decide what, exactly, had set
her instincts on high alert.

It was right there, lurking on the edge of her consciousness,
but despite how hard she tried, she couldn’t quite grasp the knowledge and bring
it home. She sighed and gave up. She was tired, frustrated, and her feet hurt.
Maybe later, after a good night’s sleep, her subconscious would connect the
pieces and arrive at a conclusion.

Or perhaps, she was simply insanely jealous when she had no
reason or right to be.

Stupid, that. So, so stupid.

“Tell me,” she said as she pierced a slice of cucumber with her
fork, “more about Mary.”

“Sure. What do you want to know?”

“Anything other than obscure, meaningless details.”

Cole gave her a pointed look. “If you ask a direct question,
I’ll give you a direct answer. As long as it doesn’t relate to Mary’s identity,
I’m an open book.”

Okay, now that she had his attention and his willingness to
actually talk, what did she want to know? “How long have you two known each
other?”

“Since we were children.”

Oh. She hadn’t expected that answer. “Do
I
know her?”

“I...feel fairly sure you’d recognize her.”

“By name or by face?”

“Both.”

Oh again. “What does she do for a living?”

“Nope.” Cole took a bite of his hamburger. After he’d chewed
and swallowed, he said, “Answering that question could put you on the scent to
who she is, which I don’t want you to know just yet. So ask something else.”

Brat. He’d always been too smart for his own good. “What does
she do in her free time?”

He shrugged. “Same stuff anybody does, I guess. Depends on the
day and her mood.”

“Dammit, Cole! That is not a concrete answer.”

“Then ask me some concrete questions, Rach.”

Glowering, she stabbed a chunk of chicken from her salad and
chewed it rather vehemently. “Fine. Say it’s raining outside and she doesn’t
have to work, what does she do?”

“What do you do when it’s raining outside?” he countered.

“Read books, go to the movies, get chores done,” she said
without thinking. “Nap if I’m tired. Scour the internet. Talk to friends. Any
one of a million possibilities.”

“There’s your answer. Don’t look so surprised. By and large,
people are similar.”

“I give up,” she muttered. “Why don’t you tell me whatever you
feel like sharing?”

“I can do that.” He took a drink from his beer, leaned back in
his chair and cradled his arms behind his head. “Did I tell you about her
smile?”

“You did.”
One. Two. Three.
She
made it to ten without screaming, so said, “How about we start with the three
traits you love the most about her, and then move on to three that you’re not so
fond of? Perhaps that will help me get a handle on her. That is, if you still
want my help in romancing her. Otherwise, I’m done, Cole. I can’t give advice
without any information.”

“Sorry. You’re absolutely right.” He ran a hand over his jaw.
“I guess this is more difficult for me than I thought it would be. It isn’t
easy, sharing how you feel for—or view—another person, especially someone you
care so much for.”

Her simmering temper cooled. That, she understood. “Okay. I get
that.”

“Three traits, huh? Well, I love how she cares about other
people. She’s compassionate. Tends to puts herself into predicaments that make
her nuts, even hurt her, but she does it anyway. Out of love, I guess. I find
that remarkable, seeing how—for most folks—the self-protection instinct reigns
above all else.”