Christmas Overnighted

by Lara Norman

  When she finally arrived, she was wet from melting snow that had gotten stuck under her scarf, and her hair was in disarray. She rushed in and threw her purse down before dumping her coat and scarf and heading for the coffee in the break room. There were several people in there, but only one was from her department, so she decided not to say anything to the people that were chatting instead of working.

  “Here you go,” Andy said as she handed Cora a fresh cup of coffee and then poured one for herself.

  “You’re the best, Andy, have I told you that lately?”

  “That bad?” Andy asked as Cora took a sip of the scalding coffee. She sucked on the lip she’d burnt and nodded at Andrea.

  “I’m over the snow.”

  “I can relate.” Andy drank some of her own coffee and then went on. “Rachel was digging her car out this morning. I thought mine was going to be stuck until spring. I hate not having covered parking.”

  Cora was nodding enthusiastically before Andy had even finished speaking. “I was just thinking that my next home needs to have a garage.”

  The two were silent for a minute as they let the caffeine work its magic. Others talked around them and some left while others came in. Some unlucky soul had to make more coffee after they took the last of it. Before long, Susan from accounting came in with her crock pot.

  “Make way for the hot cocoa fairy!” she said in a sing-song voice that was like nails on a chalkboard to Cora.

  “That’s my cue to leave,” Cora said as she headed for the door.

  Andy figured it was best to leave, too, since her boss was about to get to work and all. She was proud of herself for not bringing up Warren’s name.

  Six

  Unknown to his delivery customers, every afternoon Warren clocked out of his first job and got to work on the Victorian-style house he was renovating. He was a master carpenter and had a contractor’s license as well. His favorite part of any rebuild was creating the extra touches that made a home that much more special. He handcrafted scrolled trim work to be placed along the window frames, baseboards from what they’d been able to salvage from the original design, and created shelving for the wine cellar that was added to the basement. The main walls were framed, and preparations were being made to move on to the concrete flooring. Most of what was left when the house was bought was chipped and cracked, and they’d had to use a jackhammer to even it out before pouring in new concrete. Warren looked over the plans and the daily schedule one more time to ensure the crew he used was staying on schedule. He didn't have a buyer in mind for this house, but it was good practice to keep to the timeline. He’d considered purchasing the house himself, but he loved his little two-bedroom colonial.

  The noise from the other workers and machines, along with the smell of sawdust made Warren feel at home. Some days he almost didn't want to leave, but the budget was in a constant state of flux, giving him something to work on in his home office most nights. The cement truck was due the next day, and then after that, he would have some time on his hands while waiting for the slab to dry. The main reason in finishing that first was so that the weather wouldn't screw up the setting time as badly as it could in the open air. As it was, the mix would need warm water to keep it from becoming too cold as it was setting up, and it would take at least two days to set to proper hardness and strength.

  That meant he had time to kill after his shift with the delivery service was through. He wondered if he could encourage Cora to grab a bite to eat with him. She’d almost been friendly at their last encounter, but then he'd missed her when she'd been in a meeting the day before. Andy assured him that she had everything under control, but he missed seeing Cora’s face. It was the fifteenth of December, and he’d known Cora for three weeks. He knew he could crack her hard shell by Christmas if he just kept trying.

  Seven

  End of year was the toughest time for Cora, both personally and professionally. She had to finish all the year-end budget reviews as well as project the following year’s budget. She was responsible for approving holiday bonuses for her employees, as well as writing up their annual reviews. She had to work around her employee's scheduled vacation time and still have more than a skeleton crew there to help her finish up what needed to be accomplished to close out the year.

  On the seventeenth of December, Cora was so busy she worked straight through until two, looking up in surprise when there was a knock on her door.

  “Delivery for Cora LeGrand.”

  Warren was in front of her, one hip tilted as he leaned against the doorframe. He had a sexy smile, Cora realized as she blinked away the figures she’d been studying. “Hey, there.”

  “Busy this afternoon?”

  She glanced at the clock and was surprised at the time. “Yeah, actually. I haven't had a break since I got here.” She rotated her neck to try to dispel the kinks. Warren watched, liking the long column of her throat and the way her inky hair slid across her skin.

  “I'm about to take a lunch break myself.”

  She looked at him carefully, trying to determine if he was going to say anything else that might sound like an invitation. She wanted that more than she should, and it surprised her.

  “Need a signature?” she said, her voice gone husky.

  He cleared his throat in reaction to the tightening of his pants. “Yeah.”

  As he came closer, she wondered which of them would break. She felt the expectation as a tendril in her belly that was waiting to unfurl. She should say no if he asked. She should tell him to have a nice day and not give him the chance to ask.

  Instead, she signed and held out the stylus, intentionally brushing his fingers with her own. His skin was warm, and she flushed in return. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so interested in a man, but with their somewhat flirtatious behavior the last couple of weeks, she discovered herself wanting his story. Her stubbornness was quickly losing out to her intrigue.

  “Cora, would you like to take your lunch break with me?” His voice had dropped in timbre, as though he felt the same connection as she.

  “I would.” Her smile was shy. So much for her determination not to get involved with him. She couldn't even recall the reasons for her reticence when he looked straight into her eyes the way he was just then.

  He grinned, showing his bright teeth. She might have to ask him about those. “Great. Uh, my van or your vehicle? Or—or separate vehicles,” he rushed to amend.

  “Mine is good.”

  It took them a few minutes to get it all figured out. Warren put his things in his work van and locked it up, while Cora gathered her bag and coat. She met him outside in the crisp sunshine that was steadily melting the snow. She hated slush almost as much as snow; at least freshly fallen snow was beautiful and peaceful. She led him to her car and hurried to start it so the heater would get pumping.

  “At least the sun is out,” he said in a bright and chipper tone of voice. Cora rolled her eyes.

  “Small talk. My favorite,” she deadpanned.

  “Okay.” He laughed, undeterred. “What is your opinion on the moral development of the main characters in Pride and Prejudice?”

  “That topic of conversation is more suitable for a third date.” She risked a glance at him as she pulled out of the parking lot, realizing she’d inadvertently referred to their lunch break as a date. It was time to redirect the conversation. “Where would you like to go?”

  “Driver's choice.”

  “There's a place I like on 58th. The Spiced Apple.”

  “The Spiced Apple it is.”

  She navigated to the small cafe and found a place to park. They weren't terribly busy since it was well after the lunch rush, but as they entered to the sound of a bell tinkling above their heads, Cora saw that there were a handful of patrons enjoying coffee. One of her favorite things about the place was the lack of carols or decorations. They tended toward slightly-too-loud pop music to which the waitresses sang along.

  “What
would you suggest is good here?” he asked as they sat and looked at menus they’d found tucked between the salt and pepper shakers.

  “Oh, pretty much anything. I tend to steer toward a sandwich and soup combo.”

  Once they'd placed their orders, Cora decided she’d go for it and ask him a personal question. “Since I told you something about my pathetic childhood, it’s only fair that you share about yours.”

  He sat back and looked at her for several moments, debating how much he should say. Cora caught the dark flash that went through his eyes at her question and she frowned. “There’s nothing terribly exciting to tell. I had a normal childhood, as much as you can call it that. My parents are still together and living in Bar Harbor. I get out to see them as often as I can. This year they decided to go on a safari for Christmas, so I’ll be alone.”

  She knew there had to be more than that, especially after the fleeting expression on his face, but she waited until their food was dropped off before speaking up again. “What made you want to deliver mail and office supplies to grouchy VP’s?”

  He smiled at the teasing reference to herself. “That’s my second job. I’m a contractor full time.”

  He took a bite of his burger and she watched his jaw as he chewed. She realized what it was that had been bugging her about his appearance. He looked more like a native Californian than a Mainer. “I guess to put it delicately—I think—don't contractors typically make a decent salary? Why would you need a second job?”

  He smiled at her, unoffended. “I decided this year that I would donate my usual gift spend to charity. Then I decided to go one step further and get a temporary holiday job and donate my income from that to charity.”

  Her heart sighed. She was playing a losing game, but she could no longer help it. “Which charity?”

  Warren shifted, knowing how she was likely to react. “The orphanage.”

  She fell back against her seat and patted her heart. “Wow, Warren. Seriously, where did you come from?”

  He knew he had her by then, and only hoped she didn't think he was trying to impress her. “I’m just a regular guy, Cora.”

  Eight

  Warren certainly wasn't just a regular guy. Cora was thinking about him even as her day was done and she was back home alone. At lunch, he’d told her about how he worked all kinds of hours to accommodate his delivery schedule. Since he was seasonal help, he went home once his panel van was empty and then he put in hours at his home office or on the construction site. He was currently renovating a Victorian beauty and had gone on and on about the historical accuracy of the replications he was required to make if he couldn't find suitable replacements. After so much talk about cornices and bargeboards, she was ready to see the house he described.

  It’d been his parents deciding to have a lavish vacation that sparked the idea to donate money. Warren said he’d realized how privileged he’d grown up, and that he figured there had to be a way for him to make a difference. He’d never shied away from donating toys to the marines or other charities, but he felt like he could make a bigger difference for at least one Christmas.

  Cora was struggling with the idea that Warren might actually be perfect. That didn't exist in her experience, but she hadn't found any flaws in him to date. She didn't consider his surfer-boy looks to be a deterrent—quite the opposite. He was incredibly attractive in an All-American way. Cora herself was French Polynesian and Chinese, and her parents had come to the United States as a newly married couple. It saddened her every time she thought of how much they sacrificed when they were in their twenties, only to throw in the towel on their marriage when Cora was five years old.

  She had never entirely understood what came between her parents, though her father liked to say that her mother was too easily swayed by the idea that she could own any- thing she wanted without having to pay for it. Her mother had put them in credit card debt long before the dreaded Christmases. Her father pointed out that they hadn't ever gone full-out with materialism for the holidays before moving to the states, but afterward, her mother had fully embraced shopping. Fighting over Cora’s affection had ended up souring her on both of them, and they didn’t have very close relationships because of it.

  Cora stretched out on her couch and thought about Warren and the house he was renovating. He made it sound amazing the way he described it. Cora was so tempted to ask if he had a realtor on call that he used when he was done with a project. She needed something new, something a little bigger than her one-bedroom, one-bathroom bungalow, and she was desperate to spend her next winter with a garage. She looked up the area he said the house was in and perused the neighborhood online. She liked what she saw, even if the garage was an afterthought added on in the side yard. At least it was connected with a covered breezeway. She could be convinced to move to a nice area like that. It was even a bit closer to work than where she currently lived.

  No matter what she tried to focus on, her mind wandered back to Warren himself. Selfless and hard working were two obvious attributes. He was attractive, which she would have said was a debatable quality, but other women in her office had mentioned it, so she knew she wasn't seeing things. He had looks and character going for him. Not only did he have a decent job that he owned and ran, but he also had a second job. He did possess an overabundance of enthusiasm for Christmas that she couldn't relate to, but that couldn't possibly be a deal breaker, could it? Despite the fact that she felt like he was hiding something, she wanted to spend more time with him.

  Little did Cora know that Warren was having a similar conversation in his head about her. He knew she was a bit cynical, but he assumed he could work around that. She was intelligent and witty in a biting manner. She had a good career that she cared about, but she did work too much. He thought that he could work around that, too, especially if she put in the hours to avoid going home at night. He had experience with doing the same thing before he found a rental house with an office. It was easy to work late because it was at least something to keep his mind occupied instead of wandering around empty hallways.

  Warren Kline had been born and raised in Southern California to Roberta and David Kline. He’d been the ‘had it all’ type his whole life, thinking he was untouchable. He went to USC and studied pre-med, met Heather Jenkins, and made plans to build a life together. That had been the goal, and then the goal was stripped away until there had been nothing left of Warren but anger, depression, and suicidal thoughts. Heather had been killed in a freak accident involving other college kids. She’d been at the beach with a handful of friends while Warren was studying for third-semester finals, and she’d drowned after consuming entirely too much alcohol before going for a swim. The group had raced to see who could go the furthest, and none of them had made it very far. Unfortunately, when Heather ran out of steam the water was over her head, and she was too disoriented to know how to save herself. None of the kids with her even realized she was missing from their party until they’d been woken the following morning by police.

  Warren had been devastated, to say the least. Heather was wearing his ring when she died, but he couldn't bring himself to accept it from the coroner's office. He was pretty sure his parents were holding onto it still. He didn't think he would ever be able to think of engagement rings, or med school, or the ocean without that heavy feeling that settled between his shoulder blades. But with Cora, he felt light and carefree. She was non-judgemental and nothing seemed to bother her besides Christmas and snow.

  He intentionally got up to find something to occupy himself with and decided the sketches of the Victorian’s kitchen was a good place to start. He could picture Cora there. She seemed the type to enjoy a large work island and huge picture windows. He wondered if she cooked or baked, and then thought that it would be sad if she liked those things but had no one to cook for. The more he thought about it, the more Warren could picture them together in that house. He could see picking out furniture and wall hangings, and arguing about getting a cat or
a dog. He wasn’t even entirely sure what it was about Cora that drew him in, but he thought it had something to do with feeling comfortable in her presence. Even before he told her the delivery job was his second income, she didn't treat him like he was less than her. From the little interactions he had witnessed, she was great with her colleagues, both those with equal seniority and those who answered to her directly. She had a big heart and passion for her job.

  He had even indulged in thoughts of intimacy, and couldn't wait to take her to bed. They hadn't even come near broaching that subject, but it was on his mind. Her hair reminded him of silk sheets, and he wanted to discover if it felt the way it looked. Her clothing was well-tailored, giving him an approximate idea of what she looked like underneath. He thought of her slimness and small breasts, wondering where his preferred body type had gone. He normally liked them busty and blonde, but Cora broke his mold. Right then all he wanted was black hair, mocha skin, long legs, and delicate hands.

  He sighed. For the time being, he could only hope she was thinking of him in a similar manner, or he was going to find himself in trouble.

  Nine

  He went to her office the next day with excitement running through his veins. He didn't have to be at the job site later that day and he was going to ask Cora to spend some time with him. He didn't think she’d agree to take the afternoon off, but he thought he could at least convince her to have dinner with him.

  “Good morning, Ms. LeGrand.”

  Cora looked up, a blush staining her cheeks. She wondered if he could tell she was thinking of him. “Hello, Mr. Kline,” she answered him in the same manner he’d addressed her.

  “I don't suppose you’d be interested in accompanying a certain delivery man on his afternoon off?”