Cole For Christmas

  Cole for Christmas

  Kelly Collins

  Copyright © 2016 by Kelly Collins

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  The trees were decorated with love and care… with all my heart.

  Contents

  Praise and Awards

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Thank you for reading.

  A Sneak Peek into Wrapped Around My Heart

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  About the Author

  Praise and Awards

  “What a hidden gem to find!”

  ~ Panty Dropping Book Blog-Kathy

  “Thank you Kelly Collins for creating an awesome love story that was truly an enjoyable little escape for me.”

  ~For the Love of Books

  “When you read a book by an author you never know what to expect. It's either YAY or NAY. Kelly Collins is defiantly a YAY!”

  ~British Book Binge

  Chapter 1

  I had a feeling my life was going to change from the moment I woke up. It could have been wishful thinking, but the sun was brighter and the air crisper. Maybe it felt different because I was desperate for change.

  I pulled in front of 35 Thunder Ridge Lane and allowed myself a moment of unbridled envy. The multistory stone and timber home stood by itself at the end of Thunder Bowl. It was the perfect ski-in and ski-out home. In the distance, snowboarders raced down the mountain at breakneck speed, kicking up clouds of powder in their wake. The bowl was for daredevils and pros not beginners like me. When the owner had called, he’d been desperate for a decorator, and I’d been desperate for a paycheck. Breaking into the Aspen scene had been impossible. Since my arrival early last summer, I’d been shunned at every turn. Tight-knit communities full of rich people didn’t open their homes or wallets to strangers.

  I hoped the housekeeper had left the key by the front door as promised. I had three days to transform this house into a winter wonderland, and I’d need every minute. Mr. Cole’s family was arriving December twenty-third, and he wanted his house decked for Christmas. His exact words were, “I want to give Norman Rockwell a run for his money.”

  As promised, the key was tucked into the topiary by the front door. It slid smoothly into the lock and with a gentle turn, the door fell open. Wow. The great room was . . . well . . . great. So great time stilled as I took in the grandeur of a home many could appreciate but few could afford.

  A stone fireplace stretched from the hardwood floors all the way to the twenty-foot beamed ceilings. The sixteen-foot tree I’d purchased today would be perfect tucked between the fireplace and the wall of glass.

  It took pinching myself to be certain I wasn’t dreaming. I was really in this house, doing this job, and earning a paycheck. Out of habit, I began to mentally note my plan of attack. It would take several hours to put the tree together before I could get to the fun stuff—decorating. If the temp agency came through, that time would be cut in half. Hired help was a luxury I couldn’t afford, but efficiency was worth the price, and an extra body would be a boon.

  Thankfully, Mr. Cole had given me an ample budget. I didn’t blink an eye when the tree cost around three thousand dollars. A good quality tree would last many years.

  I hoped this job would be my breakout project. It was also my ticket to making it through the winter. I refused to fail. To crawl back to Los Angeles and beg Ryan for help would be unbearable. I couldn’t imagine bringing myself so low. I left with my clothes, my car, and my dignity, and now realize I don’t need much more than that.

  Note to self, never sleep with the boss again.

  “Hello,” a deep voice called from the front door.

  I whipped around to see tall, dark, and muscular. “Thank the Lord. I’m so glad you’re here.” I tossed him the keys. “Open the trailer and start by bringing in the tree. It’s in the five boxes toward the back.” He hardly seemed prepared for the task. Dressed in khakis and a button-down shirt, he looked more suited for selling the house than decorating it.

  I’d expected a long-haired ski bum, not a down-on-his-luck pretty boy. I hoped the man could work because I had no intention of going easy on him since he failed to dress for the job. However, those muscles would be an asset.

  “I’m—” He reached to shake my hand, but I shook my head and pointed toward the door.

  “We can get chummy later. Right now I need you to get the tree out of the trailer.” Surprise lit his eyes. “I have three days to get this house ready. When Mr. Cole brings his family here, I want them to feel like Christmas couldn’t exist anywhere else.” He was standing there looking at me like I’d grown antlers. If he didn’t step into gear, I’d have to send him packing. I wasn’t going to pay for lackluster performance. “Move it.” And he was out the door.

  I suppose I should have let him introduce himself. I would remedy that as soon as he brought the first box through the door. It’s not my norm to be rude, but the hours would evaporate if I dallied, and a rushed job was never a good job.

  While he muscled the tree boxes from the trailer, I muscled the furniture into a new Christmas-tree-friendly arrangement. The fireplace and tree had to take center stage. However, the large A-frame window was too beautiful to ignore.

  Whoever decorated this space originally did an outstanding job. The furniture was versatile and worked well when separated. The soft leather sofa was a perfect fit in front of the fireplace. With the massive tree to the right, it would be a comfortable place to camp out on Christmas morning and open presents.

  I closed my eyes and visualized it complete. Flickering lights. Festive bulbs. Family. All necessary ingredients for a memorable holiday.

  “Where do you want the first box?” The man had a sexy-as-all-get-out voice. The kind that made you clench your thighs and need to change your underwear.

  “Bring it here. By the way, I’m Chloe Craig, but most people call me Cici. I’m sorry I was so rude earlier. You have no idea how important this job is to me. It’s been hard to get a foothold in the industry here, and this job is like getting a golden ticket.”

  “Elias, my name is Elias.” He stopped at his first name and that worked for me. The less chitchat the better.

  “Well, Elias, seeing you come through the door made my day. I wasn’t sure the service would send someone.” Something flashed across his face. I wasn’t sure what I’d seen in his eyes, but I would have sworn it was humor. “It looks like Tannenbaum Temps has done me a solid.” Maybe like me, he was happy to be employed.

  “Where do you want this?” He pushed the box across the floor until I bolted forward and threw myself on top to stop him.

  “No, you could scratch the floor. This is a multimillion-dollar home, and let me tell you, you may look like you could live here, but neither of us can afford to refinish these floors.” I circled him to look for damage. No scratches. Whew. “Rich people don’t take kindly to employees ruining their homes. If you’re going to work with me, you’re going to have to pay closer attention to our client’s belongings.”

  “Duly noted.” He groaned while he hefted the box off the floor and carried it to the window.

  “Those sho
es are going to kill your feet by the end of the day.” He stared down at his leather loafers and shrugged. “If you hope to work with me again, I suggest you work hard today and think about dressing more appropriately tomorrow.” I wasn’t sure he was going to work out, but I’d be darned if I sent him home before the heavy lifting was done. Besides, he was easy on the eyes.

  I pulled a scrunchie from my pocket and twisted my hair into a high ponytail. Not the most flattering look, but one that made sense for a full day’s work. I didn’t have the time or patience to deal with my out-of-control hair. I suppose I should be grateful I’d inherited the Craig curls. I was low maintenance: just wash, toss, and go.

  While Elias left to get the next box, I thought through my plan of attack and began.

  The base of the tree fit perfectly into the space I’d chosen. I began to insert the color-coded branches into their corresponding colored slots. Elias continued to carry in boxes. I was on number two when he had carried in box five. His poor shirt was drenched in sweat. Beads of perspiration rolled down his face and dripped from his dark curls onto his collar. I was tempted to reach up and wipe his brow. The poor man looked miserable. He was obviously not used to manual labor, and I wondered why Tannenbaum sent him. I was sure I’d put heavy lifting in the job description. I couldn’t fault his work though; he was quick and didn’t complain.

  “On the front seat of my SUV is a cooler with a variety of drinks from water to soda. Help yourself.” I turned around and went back to placing branches into their slots. He walked toward the door, and I called to him, “After you get a drink, bring in the ladder. We’ll need it to assemble the rest of the tree.”

  He lugged in the ladder and set it up next to the tree. I loved that I didn’t have to tell him what to do. I’d worked with some clueless people, and often it took more time to explain than to do the job myself. Today was looking up. It was a bit rocky at first. Just goes to show you, you shouldn’t judge a person by their Italian loafers.

  “What does a tree this size cost?” He pulled a branch from the box and looked for its color-coordinated slot.

  “These run anywhere from twenty-five hundred up to the tens of thousands. I was able to get this one for just under three grand with it being so late in the season. I used my designer’s discount and got an extra ten percent off.” I tugged the next section out of the box and climbed the ladder to slide it into the existing pole. The tree was well over seven feet at this point but we still had nine feet to go.

  “So will you charge your client the original amount and pocket the rest? That would seem the prudent thing to do.” He stood by the ladder and steadied it as if he were afraid I’d fall. Hell, I’d spent half my life on ladders.

  “No way. I always pass on the discount to my client. The ten percent is nothing, but a follow-up job is everything. Hand me the red-coded branches.”

  He began to hand them to me one by one. Thankfully, his sweaty face had dried, and the red had left his neck. The last thing I needed was pretty boy to get overheated and need medical attention.

  “What do you do for a living, Elias? You’re doing a fine job, but this obviously isn’t in your lane.” I pulled the branch from his hand and giggled at his look of surprise.

  “I’m not sure if I should be pleased or offended.”

  “Don’t be offended. Look at your hands. There isn’t a callous anywhere, and you have fingernails prettier than mine. I should be offended.” I shoved another branch into the center pole. We were making quick work of the tree.

  “I can’t lie to you. I’m more an office worker than a manual labor kind of guy, but I’m not afraid of getting my hands dirty.”

  “I got that impression.” I brushed the sweat off my forehead and wiped my hand on my jeans. I always dressed clean but casual for my job. Today was no different. The polo shirt I wore had Craig Designs above the left breast. It felt good to represent myself rather than Ryan Westland Design Company.

  For the next hour, we worked side by side, assembling branch after branch. I placed the perfectly pointed pine branch on top. The way it filled the space was perfect. Mr. Cole had a good eye for measurements, as it was the exact height needed for the room. He’d said the ceilings were about twenty feet high, and he was spot on.

  “What do you think?” I stood back and admired our work. It looked great now, but once it was decorated, it would be breathtaking.

  “It’s all right.” He shrugged his shoulders and walked to the wall of windows. He was obviously not a man who appreciated the holidays.

  “This is going to come out great. I’m glad the owner isn’t present. I hate it when they’re around. It slows down the process. Normally, I wouldn’t take on a house sight unseen, but the poor man sounded desperate, and I was equally desperate for a job.”

  He’d said he was out of town and his girlfriend had dropped the ball. The phone connection had been bad, but we’d managed to get the details covered before we were disconnected. Since that first call, we’d communicated through texting.

  “Why so desperate?” He turned to look my way. Too bad the guy was broke. He would have made good dating material. Shame I couldn’t afford to take care of both of us.

  “I had a falling out with my last company and moved to Aspen for a fresh start. This is my first job.”

  “Welcome to Aspen. Do you ski?” His question caught me by surprise. I suppose it shouldn’t have since he was looking longingly out the window at the ski run. People like us couldn’t afford to ski. We watched while others raced down the slopes.

  “I don’t think what I do can be called skiing. I imagine I’m more of a snowplower than an actual skier. You?” I began to fold down the boxes to get them out of the way. It was time for the fun to begin.

  “Love it. The lessons I took a few years back really helped my form. You should think about hiring an instructor.”

  I had no idea what he thought I made, but an instructor was out of the question this year. Every dime I earned needed to get me through the winter. I had rent to pay and food to buy, not to mention car payments to be made.

  “I’ll have to look into that. Can you start bringing in the other boxes? They’re full of lights and decorations. I figure if we can get the tree done today, we can work on wreaths and garlands tomorrow. I want to use live materials so the pine smell infuses the air. There’s nothing like the smell of pine in winter. I’m also going to use lots of cinnamon sticks so the house smells like freshly baked goods.”

  “You’ve got this whole thing down, don’t you?” He piled the flattened boxes into his arms and carried them out the front door. Moments later he returned with two full boxes and a bottle of cold water in his back pocket. “Here, you need to stay hydrated. The altitude can really take a lot out of you. Drink up.”

  I was touched by his consideration and gladly took the water, gulping down half of it. I was so intent on getting the tree up, I hadn’t considered thirst or dehydration.

  We took a short break to eat lunch. I happily shared the couple of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches I’d brought with me. He’d come unprepared.

  The rest of the job was like opening boxes on Christmas morning. I loved the holidays, and decorating the Christmas tree was always my favorite activity. I usually had a six-footer. Imagine the fun I was going to have with sixteen feet.

  Elias looked less than enthused. “Don’t you enjoy decorating a tree?” I plugged in the lights and watched them twinkle to life. This tree’s stationary and blinking lights would keep it in perpetual illumination.

  “I just don’t see the point. You spend a ton of time putting something up that you’ll just tear down and destroy in a week or so. It seems like a waste of time and resources, but it’s important to some people. I get that, so I go with the flow.”

  “Well, get with the flow and start placing the decorative picks in between the branches. We have garland and ribbon to hang before we get to the bulbs. I think we have a thousand of them to place before we get to
the candy canes. Mr. Cole didn’t tell me whether there were children or not, but young or old, a tree isn’t a tree without peppermint treats.”

  “I like peppermint.” He moved to the opposite side of the tree and began to place the picks.

  We spent the next couple hours working from the top of the tree to the bottom. Elias was slow to catch on, but once he did, he seemed to get into the spirit. I played Christmas music on my iPhone, and we hung the tree jewelry to songs like “Deck the Halls” and “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.”

  I explained the symbolism of the Christmas tree, and he sounded surprised when I told him the evergreen symbolized undying life. Christmas was about hope and love. Add in everything else like stars and balls, bows and candy canes, and you had an extravaganza of delight.

  “Do we have a star?” Did I hear a hint of excitement in his voice?

  “Of course we have a star.” I pulled out an ornate topper made from pearlized glass. Lit from the inside, it would throw off prisms of light that would shine across the wooden ceiling. The star was a foot tall and would take the height of our masterpiece to seventeen feet.

  I offered the star to Elias. He gave me a strange look and shook his head. I pushed the star into his hand and told him to get his ass up the ladder and place the crowning glory on the tree. From his horrified expression, you would have thought I’d handed him a scalpel and told him to perform a triple bypass.

  He climbed the ladder slowly. “I don’t like heights.” His knees wobbled, and his face paled.

  I climbed behind him and held onto his shaking calves. Man, he had muscular legs. “You’ll go on a ski lift, but you won’t climb a ladder?” I wanted to run my hands all the way up his thighs and squeeze the cheeks I knew would be firm under my grasp, but I didn’t dare. He was a day hire, and I was his boss.