Sadie turned to look at the tree. “What about the ornaments and lights from last year? Can’t we reuse them?”
“They didn’t survive the fire,” Officer Davis said.
“The fire?”
Colt ignored her. “A tree this size takes what, two thousand lights?”
“Triple that and maybe you’ll be close,” she said. She pulled her notepad from her purse. The night before she had made some rough estimates, calculating the number of lights she normally had on her six-foot tree to try to figure out what the twenty-footer should take. “Seven thousand to be safe. But we have a more immediate issue. We should add some more branches before we think about hanging the lights.”
Colt scratched at his jaw and Officer Davis took a slow sip of coffee.
She blew on her hands. “You know, make the tree look fuller, fill in any gaps.”
The cop shook his head. “I’m sorry if the tree has some holes in it, but there aren’t that many trees this size to choose from. We can’t exactly shop around.” He surveyed the tree and pursed his lips. “And I can’t see the guys from the department going to chop down another one.”
“We don’t need another tree. This one’s beautiful.” She pulled a pen from her pocket and started pointing out the thin areas. “We just need to cut some branches, drill some holes in the trunk—”
“Hold up.” Colt crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps pulling the jacket sleeves taut. “You want us to do what?”
“Drill some holes in the trunk where there are gaps.” She slanted her gaze from one man to the other. They looked at her as though she was a few nuts short of a fruitcake. She frowned. “Then we shove the branches in and, voilà, a perfectly full tree.”
Colt snorted.
She clicked the button at the top of her pen, trying to rein in her frustration. She really didn’t think this should be a difficult concept for a general contractor, someone who built things for a living. But he had a right to be angry. His attitude was just his way of showing it. And if she kept telling herself that, maybe she’d get through the week without stabbing him in the eyeball with her ballpoint. “It really isn’t that unusual. A lot of people do it.”
“Maybe in your circle of friends, princess, but no one normal does that.”
“We have the branches that we cut off the bottom of this tree so it would fit into the base. Would they work?” Officer Davis rocked back on his heels.
“You can’t be serious.” Colt brought his hands to his hips. “This is the stupidest—”
“Relax, man. Like Ms. Wilson said, it won’t be that hard.” He smirked at Colt. “You do know how to work a drill, don’t you?”
Colt spluttered. “Of course I can use—”
“So can you get those branches to me?” Sadie ran a hand along the spruce and peered at the trunk. Just a couple of branches would do it. It really was a nicely shaped tree. Maybe they could do a red and gold theme. Or icy pastels . . .
“Fine.” Colt pocketed the debit card. “If you want to add more branches to a perfectly good tree, fine. I have a lot of clients who want stupid things done to their houses and I can work with it.” He glared at her. “I’ll get the supplies. You stay here.” He started to walk away.
“Wait!” Sadie tagged after him. “I really think I should buy the decorations. I’ve made up a list of what I think we need. How many boxes of lights and ornaments, by color, shape, and size. Shape can be difficult since we don’t know what the stores will have until we get there, but most of them sell several traditional—”
He stepped into her space, testosterone rolling off of him in waves. Or was that anger? “I don’t need your shopping lists, princess.” He didn’t even look at the neat three-columned outline she had spent a half hour on that morning. And that ticked her off.
She took a step in, her sneaker tapping the toe of his boot. “No, you won’t need it if I’m the one to go shopping. It only makes sense. I’m the designer after all.”
“I may not be a big-city ‘stager’”—he used his fingers to make air quotes around the word, as though it wasn’t a real profession, making her eyes narrow—“but I can buy some damn lights and ornaments. Don’t need you along, don’t want you along.” He turned away from her again.
“And how exactly are you going to carry all those decorations?” she asked sweetly. “Do you have a sidecar I don’t see, or are you just going to strap them to your back?”
Colt slowly turned, his jaw clenched tightly. “I’m used to having my truck.” He walked up to her and stared into her eyes for a moment.
Then he smiled.
She had known this man for all of two days, but she already knew he had at least ten different types of smiles, all of them beautiful, but none that had been directed her way had yet to be sincere. The one genuine smile she had seen had been given to Jerome at the police station the other night when the two men had been laughing together. It had made him seem . . . nice. Like maybe if they had met under different circumstances she might actually like him.
This smile was nothing like that. This was like a hot fudge brownie sundae. Scorching. Dirty. Decadent. Something Sadie knew was full of crap and couldn’t be good for her, but one she couldn’t resist. Her body heated up despite the chill December air.
He grabbed her jacket and tugged her close. Their breath made mist plumes that met and melded into one cloud of vapor. She stared into his moss-colored eyes, not knowing what she expected to see but still surprised by the awareness that developed in them. The flicker of desire that burned in their depths. The air caught in her throat as her body responded to his proximity. The scruff on his face made him look rugged, tougher than the type of guy she usually dated, and she could no longer remember why she kept dating suits-and-loafers men. They never looked at her like this, like they’d combust if they didn’t get a taste of her. Her insides liquefied, desire pooling low.
Well, if he really wanted to get the decorations, she could probably accept that. She was a professional; she could make his choices work. The jingle of keys pulled Sadie from her reverie. Her keys.
A smirk replaced the heated look on his face. “Since you’re responsible for my lack of appropriate transportation, I’ll use your car.” He walked away from her, calling over his shoulder, “I assume it still runs, even with the front-end damage.”
Sadie spluttered. Then she turned to Officer Davis, who was showing an inordinate interest in the design on his coffee cup. “You saw that! He’s stealing my car.”
He bit down on his smile. “Borrowed, Miss Wilson. He’ll bring it back.” He tipped his hat at her. “Thanks again for the coffee. And I’ll bring those cut branches right over.” He lifted the cookie box in her direction. “Is this something for the tree?”
“No, just some cookies I made.” Strike one for karma cookies. All they had gotten her was a stolen car.
“Cookies?” His brown eyes lit with the sort of interest Sadie thought she had seen in Colt’s eyes. Obviously she sucked at reading men. Colt hadn’t been interested in her, he had merely been hungry. Or anticipating his revenge. “I haven’t had breakfast yet. I don’t suppose I could persuade you to take pity on a law enforcement officer and give me one?”
His hopeful smile was enough to cool the slow simmer of irritation Colt had left her with. “Officer Davis, you can have the whole darn box. Merry Christmas.” With a thank-you and a delighted grin, he turned and left her alone with the twenty-foot blue spruce, whistling “Jingle Bells” all the way to his patrol car. With the state of affairs her life had taken lately, all she could think as he slid behind the wheel was Bah humbug.
Chapter Three
Colt pulled up to a trailer, his temporary office at his latest job site. This detour was probably in violation of his community service, but it was necessary if he wanted to keep his business running. He paused. His father’s truck was parked in the lot. Again.
Entering the cramped office, he smiled at his secretary. “Morning, Jan
ice. How’s it going around here?”
His father, sitting on the worn couch across from her desk, harrumphed. “You’d know if you weren’t AWOL.”
“Now, Chuck, you know Colt couldn’t help but be out yesterday morning and the rest of this week. He has to follow the judge’s orders.” Janice pushed her large eyeglasses back up her nose and smiled at Colt sympathetically. “How’s the tree look this year?”
“Big and green.”
His father snorted. “If you had kept up with your insurance—”
“I know, Dad.”
“And what about Caleb’s truck? Have you heard anything from the body shop yet?”
Only that it would take a miracle to fix it. “Nothing yet.” Colt rolled his shoulders. His father’s disapproval hung around him like a shroud. “Have you heard anything about the MacKenzie project, Janice?”
“I’m sorry.” She pulled a pencil from the gray knot at the back of her head and rolled it between her fingers. “They didn’t accept our bid. They went with Carelli.”
Colt cursed.
“Watch your language in front of a lady,” his father said, glowering at him.
“I’m sorry, Janice.” Colt rubbed the back of his neck. “I just don’t understand it. We had a good bid. How does Carelli keep bidding lower than us?”
“Just a little competition, son. You have to overcome it.”
“It’s more than just competition,” Colt said.
“It’s the third time in six months Carelli has scooped us,” Janice added.
Colt threw his jacket on his chair. This was not what he needed. “Damn it, he must be finding out what our bids are and then undercutting us.”
His father scooted forward to the edge of the couch. “That information is confidential.”
“It’s supposed to be.”
“Do you think he has a spy in our company?” Janice looked worried.
“Or he’s hacking our system somehow.” Colt rubbed his rough jaw. He knew their system had firewalls and the employee intranet was supposed to be secure. Different levels of employees had access to different things. Only he and Janice were supposed to have access to the bids. But it was a different world today. Computer wizards were able to hack the NSA. No security measure was ever foolproof. “I don’t know. But if it keeps happening, we’ll be out of business.” He poked at a small plastic Christmas tree Janice had jammed into the corner of her desk. “I don’t have time for this decorating nonsense.”
“And whose fault is that?”
Colt shoved his clenched fists into his pockets, struggling to remain calm. Deep lines crossed his father’s face, the wrinkles so prominent they created a patchwork pattern. The man had aged a lot since retiring from the business. Supposedly retiring. He still seemed to spend an awful lot of time at the office and it was getting harder and harder to have him around.
“I know it’s my fault, Dad,” Colt said quietly. “But knowing that doesn’t help anything.”
His father rose slowly to his feet, his knees creaking. “I know you’re trying your best. I just wish . . .” A wet sheen covered his faded eyes and Chuck quickly turned to look out the window.
“We all wish that.” Colt turned to Janice. “If you haven’t already, I need you to shift my schedule around this week. And tell George I heard from the glass supplier. They’re back on schedule for the delivery.”
“You got it, boss,” Janice said. “Don’t worry. I’ll hold down the fort. You might as well have some fun decorating the tree since you can’t get out of it.”
“I’d sooner chew my own arm off.”
“Come on, it can’t be that bad. You really are doing this town a service. We wouldn’t have a tree otherwise and it just wouldn’t be Christmas without our annual lighting ceremony.” She winked at him, flashing him a blue-painted eyelid. “Besides, you get to spend some time with a pretty girl. The McCoy men have always been able to take advantage of that.”
Colt frowned while his father chuckled. “You don’t know this woman. I don’t care how pretty she might be.” From the night of the accident and yesterday at the courtroom, all he remembered of her was honey-blond hair, frightened blue eyes, and fancy duds. This morning he had noticed more. Like the light sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks that matched the cinnamon dusted on the foamy, girly coffee she drank. A bright smile and a plump bottom lip that begged to be nibbled. She had been dressed more practically today, in jeans and sneakers, but she still managed to look classy, like maybe she ironed the denim or something. Colt’s frown deepened. “She’s the type of woman who thinks flashing a smile and giving me a box of cookies can make up for what she did.”
“Cookies? What kind of cookies?” His father licked his bottom lip.
“I don’t know.” Colt fought to keep his voice even. “I didn’t take them.” He heaved out a breath and ignored the gurgle in his stomach. Damn. He was getting hungry. “All I’m saying is she could be Kate Upton and I still wouldn’t want to work with her. She’s a self-absorbed prima donna.” He remembered how her smile had faltered when he refused the coffee she had brought. Colt rubbed his chest. He refused to feel guilty. “And how did you know she was pretty?”
“It’s a small town. People talk. Besides, all that matters is that now I know you think she’s pretty.” Janice made little kissing sounds at him. That was the problem when your secretary had known you since birth. She could get away with murder. Since the woman had been like a second mother to him after his own mom had died when he was young, he let it slide.
His father interrupted them. “Whose piece of crap car are you driving?” He had made a hole in the venetian blinds and was squinting out the window.
“Hers.”
“Janice’s?” His father’s eyes widened in surprise.
Janice had joined him at the window. “Not mine. He must mean Christmas-tree girl. Ooh, that’s a big dent.”
“That’s what happens when you drive into a light pole.”
“Is it even safe to drive?” Janice asked.
Colt paused. “Well, it got me here. I don’t know if she’s had it checked out.”
His father turned to him, the blinds closing with a snap. “You’d better find out. It wouldn’t do to have the lady driving around in an unsafe vehicle.”
Colt’s eyebrows shot up. “That lady destroyed my truck because she was busy texting. I don’t really care.” He shifted his weight on his feet.
“It was an accident, Colt.”
Of course. Charles McCoy was quick to forgive everyone, except his own son. “I’ve got to go,” Colt said. He picked up his coat. “Janice, could you have George deliver a company truck to city square by the end of the day, along with as many available extension cords as we have? And scaffolding equipment for the tree. He’ll know what to bring.”
“Of course, sweetie. Whatever you need.”
Colt escaped into the wintry air, chest heaving. Whatever he needed. That was a nice thought, but what he needed was to stay at work, not be off playing Santa Claus. He looked at the bent hood and twisted grill of the car he had taken. Especially since his Mrs. Claus was an anal-retentive nut job.
Which reminded him. He strode to a storage trailer and found a battery-operated drill and a hole saw attachment kit. He’d never used a hole saw on a Christmas tree before, but there was a first time for everything. Including being the town’s tree decorator. His feet dragging, he walked back to the mangled car and sighed. This was going to be a really long week.
* * *
After the hell that was shopping a couple of weeks before Christmas, Colt almost looked forward to the tree, and Sadie. Until he pulled up at the town square and saw her talking with David Carelli. Acid churned in his gut when Carelli stepped in close. Too close. Colt unfolded himself from her front seat as she gave the man a tentative smile. Grabbing a handful of shopping bags, he strode over to the pair and dumped them at her feet.
Her eyebrows shot up under her bangs. “Oh, hi,
Colt. I’m glad you’re back.” She indicated the man next to her. “Do you know—”
“Yes.”
The blond man gave him an easy smile and held out a hand. “Nice to see you again.” Colt reluctantly shook it. “Too bad about the MacKenzie project,” he added. “I know you had your heart set on it.”
“It was business, David. My heart wasn’t involved.” Childish satisfaction licked through Colt as David’s eyes widened and he tugged his hand from Colt’s crushing grip.
“Yes, well, no hard feelings, I hope,” David said. He turned his back on Colt. A very stupid move if Colt were a different kind of man. He really wanted to be a different kind of man right then. “Sadie,” David continued, “why don’t we continue this over lunch? I could come back and pick you up in, say, two hours?”
“She has to work. If she wants to date she’ll do it on her own time,” Colt said.
Sadie scowled at him before turning a charming smile on David. “Thank you. I appreciate the offer, but I am busy here. Besides, I don’t think I’m at the point yet to have a serious discussion about it. I’ll let you know.”
“Of course.” David squeezed her shoulder. “Call me anytime. The offer for lunch, or dinner, stands.” With a nod to Colt, he walked to his BMW and drove away.
Sadie began to rifle through the bags.
“Well, you work fast,” he said.
She squinted, shielding her eyes from the sun. “Excuse me?”
“I’ve been gone for all of two hours and you already have Carelli panting after you. Nice work. Now if you only applied yourself with the same energy to decorating this damn tree, we’d be done in no time.” He spun on his heel and went back for the rest of the crap in her dented car.
He didn’t miss the expression on her face before he turned. She looked shocked at his accusation, and a little bit hurt, if he was honest with himself. Well, no need for her to get her panties in a twist. As long as she pulled her weight this week, they would get along fine.
And as long as David Carelli stayed far away from her, too.
The Christmas Tree Page 3