Cole in My Stocking

by Jessi Gage

  Don’t get your hopes up. He’s probably just stopping by between engagements to make sure you set the alarm for the night. Don’t tell him about forgetting the phone.

  I put my beer down and side-stepped down the driveway side of the peak to greet him, wondering if he might possibly be here to talk about that “later” he’d mentioned. Maybe this would be my chance to ask about why he’d punched Tooley.

  From the edge of the roof, I had a good view of him getting out of the truck. In his down parka, he looked as tall and wide as a grizzly bear. In the bright white security light, his face and hands looked pale as snow. His head was exposed to the cold. No sunglasses. Good to know his coolness had bounds. No shades at night.

  He sauntered toward the house, eyes scanning the beast, the garage, the house. Ever my protector.

  Pitter-pat went my heart.

  Stop it, heart.

  “Up here,” I said when he was ten feet from the porch.

  He started and looked up. I didn’t miss how his hand slid inside his partially-zipped jacket. He was carrying concealed. When he saw me, he withdrew his hand.

  “Don’t shoot,” I said, a smile in my voice.

  “Mandy?”

  “Hi.” I gave him a finger wave, my fleece mittens looking extra blue in the security lighting.

  “What are you doing on the roof?”

  “Reflecting.”

  “No shit?” he said, as if considering the merits of reflecting on a roof and deciding it was a worthy pastime. He stuck his hands in his jacket pockets. “How’s that working out for you?”

  “Good.”

  “Uh, are you going to come down?”

  I thought about it. “No.” The roof seemed like a good place for confessions, if that’s what Cole had in mind. “You can come up, though. If you want.”

  He stared at me. Shrugged. “Okay. How?”

  “Ladder around back.” I pointed.

  He set off into the shadows between the trailer and the garage. A minute later, the ladder rattled under his weight. When he reached the top, I gave him a hand stepping off the ladder.

  His fingers were strong around mine. I had an urge to take off my gloves, link my fingers with his and claim his protection for my very own. For all time.

  Shoot. I was falling for Cole.

  Bad, bad idea, Mandy.

  For so many reasons. Too bad I’d given myself permission to feel whatever I needed to feel today. What kind of person would I be if I went back on a promise to myself? I didn’t relax my grip on his hand.

  He wasn’t letting go either. “You do know it’s freezing out, like literally.”

  “Wuss,” I teased as I led him over the peak to my little nest of cushion and crocheted yarn.

  “Didn’t say I couldn’t take it, honey. Just making sure you can.”

  He called me honey again. That made three times now. Not that I was counting.

  “I can take it.”

  “Yeah. You’ve always been tougher than you look.”

  I frowned at the change in him. All pretense of flirtation evaporated into the night. He sounded sober, resigned, like he was working up the courage to dive into a conversation he didn’t want to have.

  He cleared his throat and let go of my hand to jam both hands in his pockets. “You’re dressed for it, anyway. That’s a good coat. You wear it down in Philly?”

  He was backing off from the ledge. Warming up to the conversation by making lighter chit-chat. Fine with me.

  “Sometimes.” It got just as cold in Philly as it did here, but when I went out, it was usually to go to school or work or to hang out with friends. There were so few dress-down occasions that mostly, the puffy down coat lived in my closet.

  We sat down. I tossed a length of afghan over Cole’s long legs.

  “Roof’s like a block of ice.” I heard the shiver in his voice and entertained a fantasy of him in swim trunks, diving for a volleyball, forearms and chest plowing through hot sand. Mmm, beach and Cole. Heaven.

  “Sit on the blanket,” I suggested.

  He shifted to tuck it under his butt, leaning into me. “Cozy,” he said, lips near my ear.

  My turn to shiver.

  He didn’t move away once his legs were cocooned, but stayed close enough his scent wafted around me. He smelled like ocean breeze body wash and gun oil. He must have cleaned his piece today for that familiar scent to be so fresh. That meant he’d used it for target practice recently. Had he blown off steam at the range after the confrontation with Tooley?

  “This for me?” He nodded at the unopened beer near my knee.

  “I was saving it for Dad. But I don’t think he’d mind if you had it.”

  A smile transformed his hard mouth into an oasis of acceptance. I was tempted to nuzzle into the patch of pale, muscular neck between the collar of his parka and his five-o-clock shadow, but managed to resist.

  He picked up the beer in his bare hand. Must have been cold. “Thinking about him, huh?” Pop, hiss. He put the can to his lips and took a long sip. I was jealous of the can. It had his hand. It had his mouth.

  I swallowed. This attraction could go nowhere good. Unfortunately, I didn’t think I was strong enough to continue ignoring it. If Cole felt anything like what I was feeling, we were both in trouble. “Seemed like a good way to spend Christmas Eve,” I croaked.

  He nodded, chin dimpled in consideration.

  “What about you? Where are you off to tonight?”

  He eyed me while he took another sip. “Nowhere. I’m spending tomorrow with my family, but I didn’t have any plans tonight.”

  I raised my eyebrows, surprised.

  “What? I’m not exactly Mr. Popularity.”

  “That’s not true. You know everybody.” There had never been a shortage of laughter and conversation up in Dad’s shop, and Cole had often been part of that.

  “Knowing everybody ain’t the same as having a ton of friends. Grip had a ton of friends. I’m more of a homebody these days.”

  “You never used to be.”

  “A lot changed since you left.”

  That sounded ominous. I had a feeling I’d be sorry if I asked, “Like what?” So I kept my mouth shut.

  We sat quietly for a while, both sipping ice-cold beer on an ice-cold night.

  Cole broke the silence. “You got plans tomorrow?”

  “Um. Maybe. I thought about giving my Aunt Leslie a call. She’s my mother’s sister. Maybe I can head down to see her and her family for a bit. She’s in central Mass.” Mom’s grave was there too, near the sleepy New England town she’d grown up in. It’s where Dad would be buried come spring, in the plot next to hers. “Think I’ll swing by Mom’s grave while I’m down there.” My throat closed up a little.

  “Or you could come with me,” Cole said.

  My heart stumbled around in my chest before settling into a quickened pace.

  “It’ll be nuts,” he went on. “Kids everywhere. Mom trying to cook the turkey with the oven door open. ‘Why won’t the thingy pop?’ ‘’Cause you keep letting out all the heat!’ That’s my gramps. Mom can’t cook a turkey to save her life, but she tries every year. No one’s gotten salmonella yet. There’s always room for one more, if you’re up for the chaos.”

  Was he seriously inviting me to spend Christmas Day with his family? The happy chaos he described definitely seemed preferable to the uncertain reception I’d get with people who technically qualified as family but whom I hadn’t seen since I was a kid.

  “That sounds really fun.” I tried not to sound as choked up as I felt. “But I couldn’t impose.”

  “Not an imposition, Mandy. I want you to come. Unless you really had your heart set on visiting your mother’s grave tomorrow.”

  I could visit Mom any time while I was back. “I don’t. I mean, I’d like to go. With you.”

  “Yeah?” The soft question resurrected the butterflies in my stomach. He was l
eaning close, looking down at me with a gentle gaze. He smelled like Dad’s beer, a scent I should have hated but didn’t.

  “Yeah.” God help me. I wanted Cole. I couldn’t have him, but oh, how I wanted him! I couldn’t remember the last time I’d wanted at all, let alone this deeply.

  He smiled. The skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled. Just then, the security light turned off, dousing us in darkness.

  I swallowed hard. Could Cole feel the attraction sizzling between us? How was it not lighting up the night? It was certainly lighting me up from the inside out. I felt like I was drinking spiced cider instead of cold beer.

  His gaze was a tangible weight on me, even in the dark. I didn’t know what I would do if he tried to kiss me. I wanted him to with a desperation I could practically taste. At the same time, I feared it. Kissing was wonderful, but it led to things I couldn’t handle. I was such a mess.

  “What a crazy day, huh?” he said. I heard the uncertainty in his voice, like maybe he was thinking about kissing me too, but had his own reasons for not going through with it.

  I was relieved. I was disappointed.

  At his words, the day came rushing back. Funeral. Tooley throwing out crazy accusations and having a conniption over the lack of a signed will. Cole leaving without saying goodbye then showing up claiming he had nothing better to do on Christmas Eve than sit on a cold roof with me. “Yeah,” I agreed. “Crazy.” I eyed him, trying to gauge his mood.

  My eyes were adjusting to the dark. He was a midnight blue shape with glittering eyes, like a cold boulder. He reminded me of The Old Man of the Mountain before it had tumbled down. The natural rock formation of a man in profile had always seemed so strong to me way up there on that mountain, but after it fell, I’d heard a restoration team had been holding him together with bolts and cables for decades.

  I sensed Cole was like that now, strong but in need of shoring up.

  “Tooley had you pretty upset, huh? You want to tell me about the history between you two? Why’d you punch him in the face?” I swallowed hard. “Was that…over me?”

  He sighed. It was a heavy sound. “I think it’s later.”

  I nodded. I’d been dreading this conversation, but it had to happen. Folding my legs Indian style under the afghan, I settled in to listen. I had a feeling this was going to take a while. I hoped it took a while, because my knee was resting on Cole’s thigh.

  He sipped and stared out over the dump. Ordering his thoughts? Screwing up his courage? Wondering what to do about the contact I’d just initiated under the guise of getting more comfortable?

  I didn’t rush him. It’s not like I had anywhere to be. Definitely nowhere better than with my leg pressed up against his and him not making a big deal about it.

  “You doing okay?” he said at last. “Tooley was out of line today.”

  “Way out. I’m okay. What about you? He practically accused you of statutory rape.”

  Cole blew out a sharp breath. “Wish you hadn’t heard that. Talk about embarrassing.”

  “I wasn’t embarrassed. And you shouldn’t be either. Those accusations were completely ridiculous.”

  Cole faced me. “Yeah,” was all he said.

  “He’s just a big blow hard.” I nudged his elbow with mine. “I’m glad he’s not chief anymore. What’s he doing now, anyway?”

  “Security. He’s a partner in a firm out of Nashua.”

  “So, he’s a security guard?”

  “More like a security specialist. Sets up systems to protect homes and businesses, like what your dad has.”

  “Oh, fabulous.” I suddenly didn’t feel half as safe. What if Tooley knew how to get around an alarm? What if he came back in the night to search for that will?

  “Hey.” Cole butted his shoulder against mine. “Don’t worry about Tooley. You called it. He’s a blow hard. He can be a misogynistic bastard, but he’s law abiding. Still, he or anyone else comes around here, you call me. I’m just a few miles down the road.”

  “My own personal security system.”

  “Yeah, honey. If you want me to be.” His hand covered my knee, molding it more snugly to his thigh. The look he gave me took my breath away. The night was dark, but not so dark I couldn’t see the vulnerability that softened the hard planes of his face. His mouth looked incredibly kissable. Nothing Old-Man-of-the-Mountain about him now.

  He was going to kiss me. I knew it. I wanted it more than I was afraid.

  I licked my lips.

  He tilted his head toward me, leaning in.

  I held my breath.

  “Shit,” he said with a shake of his head, breaking the spell. “Sorry. That’s not why I came here tonight.” He pressed his forehead to mine.

  Even though I was disappointed the kiss hadn’t happened, my heart gave an extra hard thump-thump at the tenderness in his body language. He bent over me like a flower protecting a blade of grass.

  “I hope we can talk about this thing between us later. If you’re still talking to me. But we’ve got other stuff to talk about first.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be talking to you?”

  He straightened and blew out a long breath, avoiding my eyes. “Because I know what happened to you that night Tooley brought you into the station,” he said. “And so did your dad.”

  Chapter 11

  Cole felt Mandy go still beside him. It was like his confession sucked all the air out of the sky and left them frozen and weightless, waiting.

  Reminding her of that terrible night all those years ago could do nothing but hurt her, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. But if he let things continue in the direction they were headed without clearing the air between them, he’d hurt her worse than if he ripped off the Band-Aid now.

  After all this, he hoped she’d still get that soft look in her eyes for him, but he doubted she’d feel anything but embarrassed or outright angry. He was probably about to blow a chance at something that could have been phenomenal. There was no help for it. He took a deep breath and dove in.

  “First thing you’ve got to know is that I’m here for you. This isn’t going to be an easy conversation, but it’s one we need to have because we both know there’s something here worth exploring, and to start with misunderstandings between us isn’t going to cut it. Tell me you understand that. Tell me I’m not out of my mind imagining something that’s not there.”

  She wouldn’t look at him.

  “Mandy?”

  “How did you know?” Her voice was colder than the beer he’d been sipping. She didn’t give him a chance to answer. “No one but my counselor in Philly knows. Dad couldn’t have known. He couldn’t.” She shook her head like she was agitated then faced him with narrowed eyes. “Wait. What do you know? How do I even know we’re talking about the same thing?” Challenge radiated from her squared shoulders and jutting chin. Gripper’s chin. So goddamned sexy on her when it had been nothing but stubborn on her father.

  This was a different Mandy than he’d ever seen before. Compared to the wilted, beaten-down girl his heart had gone out to at Newburgh PD, this was a woman who had grown in strength and self-assurance.

  She was breathtaking.

  Quietly, he said, “First tell me I’m not out of my mind. Tell me we’re starting something here.” He wanted to touch her in the worst way, a hand to her back, another gentle shoulder bump. But he didn’t. She was in fight mode. While that made her more attractive to him than she could possibly imagine, he understood the warning signs of a female who didn’t want or need coddling. Damn, he was so proud of her.

  She stared out toward the dump. “I think you need to leave.”

  Shit. She might as well have kicked him in the nuts.

  Okay, so there was nothing between them. At least not any more. Didn’t change what had to be done. Time to regroup.

  He wasn’t here for him. Not in any way, shape, or form. He was here for Mandy, because she needed to know the extent
of what went on after she left town. As a victim, she had a right. As a woman he cared for, she didn’t deserve to be in the dark when he was so involved. The next hour was going to suck, but he’d stick it out, for her.

  Which meant he couldn’t do as she’d asked. “Can’t leave. Won’t. Left you once when you needed me. Not going to do it again. Ever.” He let that sink in. “Know it hurts, honey, and I don’t want to do this to you, especially tonight, but there are things you need to hear, things your father wanted you to know. It’s all tied up together in an ugly knot. Can you be strong for me and hear me out? Please?”

  She blinked, and even though she wasn’t looking at him, he saw her eyes go from fierce to considering. Her lower lip quivered. After a long, silent minute, she nodded. “Say what you have to say, Cole.”

  “You warm enough?”

  She’d inched away from him. They still shared the blanket, but she was hugging her knees instead of resting one on his leg. Sitting on a hard roof like this was damn uncomfortable, but it had been a lot nicer when she’d been sharing her warmth with him.

  She snorted. “How long is this going to take?”

  “Not sure. You need to go inside, you say something, yeah?”

  She looked at him for the first time in a while. There was still anger in her gaze, but he saw it for the shield it was. Underneath, she was hurting. He wanted to soothe her, but first he had to make it hurt worse.

  Slowly, she nodded, giving him permission to start.

  He took a deep breath and rolled the beer can between his palms. The bite of cold grounded him as he went back in time. “I remember getting in from a call that night. Heard something I’d heard a dozen times before, Tooley coming down hard on some punk, yammering about how stupid it is to get wasted at any age let alone under-age. Then I strolled into the main room and saw it wasn’t some punk. It was you.”

  His jaw tightened. He worked out the tension and did a neck roll. Stay calm. Don’t upset her any more than you have to. “Got a good enough look at you to know you weren’t feeling good. Knew you didn’t need some cop with baggage lecturing you when you were probably focusing all your energy on not throwing up.