“You know about The Java Café?”
“Dad mentioned it. What did they win with last year?”
“A teddy bear tree, if you can believe that shit.”
She put her head down, and he could tell she was trying not to laugh.
“It was a Montana theme,” he continued dryly. “Montana...grizzly bears. So they put teddy bears all over it. And won the damn auction.”
Looking back up, she licked her lips, but the gleam in her eyes remained. “Well, that’s kind of cute.”
He stared at her.
“What was your theme?”
“Snowboarding.” EJ shrugged. To him, it had been a no-brainer. But it had taken an act of congress to convince Joe. He hadn’t thought it was creative enough. Whatever. Snowboarding.
“Okay. I like that.” She frowned, her brows knitting together. “But this year, we’ll have to hit it out of the park.”
He watched her, intrigued. What was better than snowboarding?
The server came with Jemma’s wine. “Can I bring you folks anything else?”
“You hungry?” EJ asked. “Their beer-battered onion rings are the bomb.”
“I’d love some onion rings.”
After assuring them it would only be a few minutes, the server left them alone again.
EJ was trying really hard to concentrate on the tree and not cleavage. He had to keep pulling his gaze back up from the V-neck of her sweater, a soft, fuzzy number that was doing uncomfortable things to his lower half. Jesus. He felt like a juvenile delinquent around this woman.
She chewed the inside of her cheek. “You know my dad’s cat? Ethel?”
“I do. I do know Ethel.”
“Well, he told me today that she was a rescue. He adopted her from the county animal shelter. Apparently, they have a holiday special the week leading up to Christmas, to try to get all their animals adopted by Christmas Eve. Last year, they came close, but didn’t make it.”
He nodded. “Okay. I’m following...”
“What if we did a shelter-themed tree?” Her face lit up. “What if the theme was adoption, and we could kill two birds with one stone? Raising money for the hospital, while also raising awareness for the animal shelter’s holiday special?”
He watched her for a few long seconds, letting the idea sink in. He liked it. He liked it a lot. There was a healthy competitive streak in EJ’s bones, but at the heart of the auction was the opportunity to help people, to help the community he’d come to love. And if they could help some animals, too? Well, that was even better.
“I have to admit,” he said. “I was prepared to be skeptical of your ideas. I mean, I tend to hog all the ideas. Ask Joe.”
She grinned.
“But this one’s pretty good. Pretty damn good.”
She grinned wider.
“A shelter-themed tree,” he muttered. “Brilliant.”
“Do you think it’s been done before?”
“I’ll have to check, but it doesn’t sound familiar.”
She bounced a couple of times in the booth. He knew she hadn’t celebrated Christmas in years, and this little bit of excitement broke his heart. His holidays tended to be crappy variations of the one before, but at least he recognized them and did traditional things leading up to the dates themselves. He had a feeling Jemma had been shutting the entire month of December out of her life for a while. But being open to helping with this auction was a clue that she wanted more. Maybe a lot more.
“So, what now?” she asked.
“Now, we need to cut the tree down.”
Her eyes shone. He wanted to reach out and cup her cheek. Maybe cup something else, too.
Instead, he cleared his throat. “Yeah, we need to cut the tree and go from there. We only have a few weeks, so getting started right away wouldn’t be too soon.”
“I’m ready when you are.”
“How about this weekend? There’s some snow forecasted for late Friday, but I can pick you up early and we can probably beat it.”
“Sounds good. I left my heavy boots at home since I wasn’t planning on being out and about that much, but I brought some galoshes that should be okay. I’ll pick up some thicker socks. Should I bring some hot chocolate?”
This was feeling more and more like a date, which, he had to face it, wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
“I have a better idea. We can stop and get some at The Java Café on the way out of town. And size up the competition while we’re at it.”
“This is cutthroat, isn’t it?”
“Bet your ass. We’re not going easy on anyone just because it’s Christmas.”
She smiled just as the server brought their onion rings with a creamy dipping sauce on the side. Usually his appetite trumped everything else. Especially when “the everything else” was sitting in a basket over grease absorbing paper towels.
Except tonight, when he couldn’t take his eyes off the woman in front of him.
Chapter Seven
Jemma sat on the soft down comforter of her queen-sized bed and looked dreamily out the window. It was dark, so the twinkling Christmas lights across the street stood out like multicolored stars against a blackened sky.
She really didn’t know why she was staring dreamily out the window. Maybe because her belly was full of the best onion rings she’d had since high school. Or maybe it was because she’d had such a good day with her dad. She hadn’t expected to have a good time with him. It had just happened. So had grilled cheeses and candy-cane cake.
Bringing her knees up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them and settled her chin there. It was early—only a little after eight—but she’d come straight back to her room, showered, and put her PJs on. Her hair lay in a thick, wet braid down her back, and she marveled at how good it felt just being here. In this hotel, in this virtual Christmas wonderland.
Still, she knew all those things had less to do with her good mood than the company she’d shared over the onion rings from heaven.
She blinked, remembering how a few locks of his strawberry-blond hair had curled over his collar, and how she’d wanted to run her fingers through them. He had great hair. A surfer’s hair. Beach hair. Hair people spent hundreds of dollars on as they tried to achieve the same look. But she had a feeling he didn’t even know what kind of shampoo he used, much less fixed his hair in the mornings.
She’d met him after he’d gotten off work, and he’d already had an impressive amount of stubble on his jaw. There was definitely a wild edge to EJ Corpa. The accountant in her, the girl who regularly donned her jammies by eight, was naturally drawn to that.
She hadn’t always been such a dud. Once upon a time, she’d wanted to go to college to become an exotic animal vet and work in a zoo or wildlife preserve. But after her dad left, she’d retreated into herself and decided on something safe. Not that being an accountant wasn’t a good job. It was. It was a good, solid, dependable job. But there was a part of her that longed for some adventure, even though it scared the bejeezus out of her at the same time. A man like EJ seemed like he could deliver adventure, and then some.
A delicious shiver raced up her spine at the thought, and she smiled, just as her cell phone rang from the charger on the desk.
She got up to retrieve it, and then jumped back on the bed to curl up in a cozy little ball.
“Hello?”
“How’s it going? Or dare I ask?”
Her sister’s voice on the other end of the line was dry. Honestly, Justine could use a little adventure, too, although she’d never admit it.
“Actually, it’s going pretty well. Better than I thought.”
“As in?”
“Well, Dad’s doing great.”
“He is?”
“His physical therapist says he’s one of the fastest-healing patients he’s ever had.”
“Huh.”
She knew that tone. Justine didn’t want to sound interested, even though she was.
“Who’
s this physical therapist?” Justine continued. “You keep mentioning him. Is he over there all the time?”
Jemma took a deep breath and ran the soft piping of the pillowcase between her fingers. She wasn’t looking forward to telling her sister about what she’d agreed to do with the Christmas-tree auction. She’d see it as a lack of loyalty. They were both supposed to hate their dad, and dislike Marietta by association. It was a silent pact they’d had for years. But not telling Justine felt strange, like she’d be lying by omission.
“No,” she said carefully. “He’s not over there all the time. Just for therapy.”
“Then what gives?”
“He’s a friend of Dad’s. It’s a long story.”
“I’m listening.”
“There’s this Christmas-tree auction to raise money for the hospital, and he and Dad partner up on it every year. Well, obviously Dad can’t do it, so I volunteered to take his place. We’re going to cut the tree down on Friday.”
There was a soft huff on the other end of the line. Then silence.
“What?” Jemma asked, feeling defensive.
“He’s cute, isn’t he?”
“What? No.”
“You lie. You’re a liar. You’re terrible at it.”
“Okay. He’s not ugly. But that’s not why I’m helping.”
“Then why are you helping, Jemma? Because last time I checked, you didn’t celebrate Christmas anymore.”
Jemma rolled over and stared at the ceiling. Outside her door, the elevator dinged. She heard people getting off, laughing and talking in soft tones. Jemma liked to think they were getting away for a romantic date night. She imagined them eating a candlelit dinner at Rocco’s, with ice-skating afterward. Marietta really was like a Norman Rockwell painting. And something about that made her heart squeeze.
“Don’t you ever get tired of being such a scrooge, Jus?” she asked.
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t you ever want things to be different?”
Justine sighed audibly. Jemma knew she was getting into dangerous territory. But for some reason, tonight, lying here on this cloud of a bed, she wanted to talk about it. She wanted to remember their past Christmases, even though the memories were bittersweet. And despite everything, there was a tiny spark of wanting to look forward to future Christmases, too. Justine was her best friend in the world. She wanted her to understand. But more than that, she wanted her to share the feeling.
“Why would I want things to be different?” Justine said flatly. “They’re fine the way they are.”
“I just thought maybe...”
“Oh, my God.”
“What?”
“You’ve been there for what—a whole four days? And Dad’s already winning you over, isn’t he?”
“This isn’t about Dad winning me over. It’s not a competition.”
“He left us. You should probably remember that when he’s doing all that sweet talking, Jemma. Remember how broken Mom was afterward.”
Jemma sat up and leaned back on the pillows. At the mention of her mom, her stomach tightened. Her mother had been broken. But she’d also been soured on life, leaving her bitter and smaller somehow. With time and distance, Jemma was starting to understand that.
“I don’t think some of the things Mom told us about Dad were true,” she said.
“How can you say that?” Justine’s words were sharp, accusatory. Like a rusty nail.
“I’ve spent some time with him. I’m not saying I forgive him. I’m not saying you should, either. I’m just saying maybe we should be a little more open to it than we’ve been in the past.”
Justine took a deep breath. “I think I’m done with this conversation. I’ve got papers to grade.”
“Justine...”
“What?”
“He apologized today.”
“I don’t care.”
It was then that she heard it. The chink in her big sister’s carefully constructed armor. A hitch in her cool, even voice.
“I’ve got to go.”
And the line went dead.
Chapter Eight
The next morning dawned clear and bright—the sky a brilliant sapphire blue. Jemma stretched underneath the toasty covers and squinted at the golden winter sunlight streaming in through a slit in the sheer curtains.
A slow smile crept across her lips. She didn’t know why. She was just happy. It didn’t make sense because last night’s conversation should’ve put her in a foul mood. She should be counting down the days until she could leave Marietta for good and get back to her routine.
She pushed up on the pillows and rubbed her eyes. Her boring routine. She might as well call a spade a spade. This was the biggest change of pace she’d had in a long time. Up until now, the most excitement she could count on was if the barista at the coffee stand screwed up and gave her regular instead of decaf.
But today, she’d be seeing her dad. As unwise as she knew it was, she’d be feeding her starving heart just the tiniest of morsels. And she’d probably be seeing EJ Corpa, too. The handsome, blue-eyed physical therapist who was waking her up in ways she wasn’t prepared for. She couldn’t wait to decorate that tree with him. And even though they hadn’t talked about it in detail, she knew they’d be going to the Mistletoe and Montana dance together, too. It’d be their tree, after all. It might not be a formal date, but it would be fun. At the very least, it’d be an excuse to wear heels. A thought that made her positively giddy.
Running her hands through her hair, she looked at the clock. It was still early. Not even seven-thirty. Her dad wasn’t expecting her until nine. If she took a quick shower, she could stop by the bakery and bring him some donuts. And maybe run some by EJ’s office, too.
Just to be neighborly.
EJ looked down at Molly Cordero, who was looking back wearing an angelic smile. It was misleading. He’d told her to take it easy while hiking, but she hadn’t listened. She usually did what she wanted, which he guessed was no surprise. She was, after all, an ex-Olympian who was used to training through various tweaks and injuries. But this time, her knee had been giving her warning signs for weeks.
She shrugged her small shoulders. “It was icy. Bug took off, and I had to chase him down. What can I say?”
Bug was her boyfriend’s mutt who was known around town for his tendency to chase chipmunks.
“You could let him go. He’d come back. He always does.”
“I couldn’t. Todd’s too codependent.”
EJ narrowed his eyes.
“Okay. I’m too codependent.”
“Sounds about right.”
“So, what are we looking at? Knee brace? Ice pack? Heat?”
She knew the drill. And was stubborn as a damn mule.
“All the above,” he said. “But if you’re not more careful in the future, you’ll tear something, and then you’ll be looking at appointments with a surgeon, not me.”
Frowning, she turned when Chad walked into the room.
“Dude, there’s a chick—” He stopped short when he saw Molly, smiling. “There’s a young lady up front asking for you. She’s got baked goods.”
“A young lady?” Molly asked. “Are you going all domestic on us, EJ?”
Chad leaned on the table as if he had nothing better to do. “Are you kidding? The guy won’t even commit to second dates.”
EJ ignored him. Ignored the look Molly gave him—an oh, isn’t his commitment phobia adorable kind of look.
They might be right. He might have an issue or two with longevity and relationships, but that was just because he was picky. No other reason.
He looked toward the front office. Nobody else in town would be bringing him baked anything, other than his new Christmas tree partner in crime, Jemma Banks.
“Molly, will you give me a second?”
“No need, brother,” Chad said. “Bridget’s sending her back.”
At that exact second, Jemma appeared in the doorway to t
he clinic gym. She held up a large pink box, which was dotted with delicious-looking grease stains.
“I thought you guys could use some donuts?”
Molly grinned and sat up. Chad stared for a minute, no doubt wondering what was hotter—Jemma or the fact that she’d brought food.
EJ took her in, trying not to be too obvious about it. She wore a pair of jeans and an army-green cargo jacket with a red scarf draped around her neck. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders in a bunch of soft curls that he was dying to touch. Her eyes absorbed the color of the jacket so they seemed river-green, and even bigger than yesterday. Jemma’s skin was smooth, and pale as ivory. Everything about her was gorgeous, and he wondered how smart it was to be working with her on the tree, after all. The question of whether he’d be able to keep his hands off her was becoming more and more pointed, and Joe might not take too well to that. She was becoming more complicated than he’d originally figured.
Chad squeezed by, almost knocking a stack of files off a desk. He only had eyes for Jemma. EJ could’ve killed him where he stood, but Molly was there as a witness.
Chad put his hand out, and she shook it.
“Well, well, well,” he crooned. “Jemma, is it? I’ve heard a lot about you. A ton, actually. I’m Chad.”
Her gaze shifted to EJ, her cheeks flushed. Jesus. She was going to think he was some kind of pervert. He really was going to strangle Chad. Or run him over after work.
“Hi,” she said. “Nice to meet you.”
Chad held her hand a second longer before reluctantly letting it go. He threw EJ a look that said if he didn’t move on this girl, somebody else would. Probably him.
“Don’t pay any attention to these guys,” Molly said from the chair. “They don’t get out much.”
Jemma looked over, her eyes widening. “Oh. Aren’t you...”
“Molly Cordero.” She smiled the megawatt smile that had landed her so many endorsement deals in the past, and then stretched forward to shake Jemma’s hand.
“I heard you were living in Montana now,” Jemma said. “We’re so proud to have you.”
Christmas at the Graff Page 5