Cole's Christmas Wish

by Tracy Madison

  “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.”

  “That’s a good one,” Rachel admitted. And it was. She liked to think of herself as compassionate, but look at how she’d behaved with her mother earlier that day? So, whether she liked it or not, Mary beat her out in this regard. Ugh. “Compassion is important.”

  “Yup.” Closing his eyes, Cole released a breath. “Let’s see, what else?” His eyes popped open. “I’m assuming you’re not interested in the physical traits that...I...er, appreciate?”

  “I’ve already assumed she’s attractive, so no. Not interested.” Lie. Big fat lie, at that. Rachel would give half—no all—of the money in her bank account to know exactly how attractive Mary was. But to admit that...uh-uh. Besides which, she’d meet the woman someday and would be able to see for herself.

  “Well, she’s more than attractive, Rach. She’s...drop-dead gorgeous. And that’s a fact.”

  “Of course she is,” Rachel all but purred. “I can’t imagine you falling for a less-than-gorgeous woman. You’ve always been a little too hung-up on looks.”

  He squinted his eyes. “Not true.”

  “True.” Rachel waved her fork in the air. “Every girlfriend you’ve ever had could’ve been a centerfold model. Heck, a few of them were, weren’t they?”

  “Yup, but a few of your past men were...runway models? Is that the term?”

  “But they had more than one thought in their heads. Can’t say the same for...what was her name? Bootsie? Bitsie? Barbie?”

  “Brinley. Her name was Brinley, and I think you’re being unfair. She had, oh—” Cole stopped for a second, grinned “—two thoughts, at least. On some days, she’d even make it to three. But I’m willing to agree that I appreciate a beautiful woman. How’s that?”

  “Appreciate? Why—” Rachel snapped her jaw shut. This wasn’t getting her anywhere. “Good enough. Trait two, please?”

  “Right. Back to business. She makes me laugh. Whenever we’re together, no matter what we’re doing, laughing is almost always involved. I like that in anyone, but especially in a woman I’m considering spending the rest of my life with.”

  “She’s funny? That ranks in your top three important traits?”

  “Naturally. Would you want to spend your life with someone who was boring?”

  “Well...no. But I’m not sure I’d rank it in my top three.” Honesty. Integrity. Trust. Those were her top three. Wanting children would come next, then...okay, then yeah, someone who could make her laugh. Someone who could see the light in the darkness and help lead her there, when she needed it. “Top five, though.”

  “See? We’re not so different.” An inquisitive gleam entered his eyes. She was sure he was going to ask about her top three, but he didn’t. Instead, he said, “And behind curtain number three—Mary makes me want to be a better man. In every way possible.”

  “Why? What is it about her that does that to you?” This was crucial. This, Rachel knew, was the real, true reason Cole was in love with this woman. And God help her, but she needed to understand. Not only because of her conflicted emotions toward him, about them, but because maybe, just maybe, she’d finally be able to grasp what wasn’t right in her relationship with Andrew. Or, for that matter, her parents’ relationship. Because they certainly didn’t seem to bring out the best in each other. “Because yes, that’s...well, it’s essential, isn’t it? But why?”

  The question seemed to perplex him, as evidenced by his knotted brow and quick intake of breath. “Now that, Rach, is a damn good question. I’m not sure if I can answer it, though. It’s intrinsic. Knowing her, being close to her, brings out my better self. I don’t know why.” He flattened hi
s hands against the table, on either side of his plate. “It just is.”

  She nodded, as if she understood, when in truth, she felt more confused than ever. Andrew was a terrific man in many, many ways. He cared about her, she knew. But did she make him feel the way Cole felt about Mary? Did Rachel bring out the best in Andrew?

  Of course, the more compelling question—the one Rachel really needed to answer—was did Andrew bring out the best in her? Did he make her want to be a better person?

  In some ways, sure. Mostly, though...mostly, it was Cole who did that to her. And no, like him, she couldn’t say why. Like him, it was just that way—had always been that way.

  “Does Andrew do for you what Mary does for me?” Cole asked, as if reading her thoughts. He’d always been irritating that way.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Of course he does.” Then, because she couldn’t bear any further discussion on Mary or Cole’s feeling for her at the moment, she glanced at her watch. “Ooh, look at the time! We’ll have to put off the rest of this conversation for later. If we want to hit up any additional stores tonight, we better get moving.”

  “Sounds good,” Cole said easily enough, pulling himself to his feet. “But I do have a few concerns about Mary I want to talk over with you. Serious concerns. Just to get your take, you understand. In case I’m not seeing things in the right light. Women confuse the hell out of me.”

  “Yes, you’ve mentioned that.” She followed suit and stood, put on her coat and retrieved her precious vase. Serious concerns? Why the hell was he proposing if he had serious concerns? “Tomorrow, then. We’ll get into the rest. I...I’m more than happy to help you see things in the right light. If I can.”

  Doubtful, but hey—that’s what friends were for, right? Right.

  “If you can’t, then no one can.” Cole wrapped his arm securely around her waist. “You, Rachel Merriday,” he said with a kiss—a freaking peck—on the top of her head, “are a true gem. Andrew is one helluva lucky guy. Why, if I didn’t have Mary, I’d be downright jealous.”