Cole For Christmas Page 4

  I didn’t know him well enough to judge him, but it was obvious he wasn’t afraid of hard work. I respected that in a man. “Tell me about the first house you sold.” I pushed my empty plate to the side and leaned in toward him.

  “It was my parents’ house. I was twenty-two. I’d gotten my real estate license as a fallback to my degree in marketing.” He poured more tea and twirled more honey. “I enjoyed the thrill of the sale, so I stuck with real estate.”

  “Seems to be a good match for you.”

  “It is, but I’ve missed a lot of Christmases and other holidays, which is why this one is so important. My family is excited to visit. I’m not sure if they are more excited to see me, the house, or my girlfriend.”

  “You’ll have to tell them she won’t be here.” I lowered my head, still feeling ashamed I’d witnessed his dark moment. “By the way, I’m sorry what she did to you.” I didn’t want to see the pain I knew would be in his eyes, so I kept my head down.

  “I’ll break it to them tomorrow when they arrive.” The squeak of the plate sliding against the table forced me to look up. I’d be darned. He polished off the entire thing.

  “Did they know her?” That’s the thing with relationships, families become attached and breakups hurt everyone. “Will it be a painful breakup for them as well?” Ryan’s parents liked me. My parents weren’t quite as enamored with him, but they were always courteous.

  “No, they never met her. In fact, I don’t think I ever really mentioned her except to tell them my girlfriend would be here for Christmas.” I had no idea what he was thinking about, but I could have sworn a light went off behind his eyes.

  “You must not talk to your parents much. I get an interrogation each time I call home.” It starts off with how are you and moves into who are you seeing. “In my case, they were relieved when I broke up with Ryan. They always felt he wasn’t the guy for me. I knew that to be the truth too, but I had worked my way into a corner and felt stuck.”

  It was obvious by the tilt of his head and the way his lips opened to speak that he had questions.

  “Tell me about him.” He leaned forward in the booth, imitating my body language. He was either interested or excelled in people skills. I imagined it was the latter. I wasn’t that interesting.

  “Not much to tell. I went to work at his firm. I was naïve; he was naughty. I was smitten; he was sensual. I fell, and he let me tumble. Two years later another young, smitten design student came to take my place in every way.”

  Most people were happy to talk about themselves. I was no different. However, this wasn’t something I wanted to rehash. It was in my past, and I was over it.

  “Sounds like an asshole.” He tossed his napkin on the table along with two twenties. “Are you ready to go? We’ve got presents to buy.” He offered me his hand and pulled me from the booth. I liked the way my hand filled his, the way his fingers folded protectively around mine. Every alarm I had in my body was blaring. No good could come from liking Elias Cole.

  Chapter 4

  In the crisp morning air, we walked from boutique to boutique. Elias had no spending limit, so I was given free rein. There was a particular kind of joy that came from limitless spending. I was giddy with it, but I wondered what limitless meant to him? Certainly, everyone had a limit.

  “Tell me about your sister.” His face sank immediately.

  “You’re not going to make me come up with a sitcom character that resembles her, are you?” He fidgeted with the bags in his hands. He had purchased a beautiful silk scarf for his mom, and a cashmere sweater for his father.

  “No, just tell me if she’s older or younger than you.” I leaned against a counter filled with Limoges boxes. “Is she married or single? What’s her favorite color? What does she do for a living? Things like that.” I turned and started to rifle through the tiny boxes. Who didn’t love Limoges?

  “No idea about the color. She seems to wear pink a lot.” Looking over my shoulder toward the boxes, he continued, “She’s younger by five years. She’s single, and she’s an accountant.”

  “Yuck. Boring. Not your sister, but accounting. I nearly fall asleep balancing my checkbook.” There were so many beautiful boxes to choose from but I selected three, a Christmas tree, a wrapped present, and a suitcase. “Where does your family live?”

  “They live in Park City, Utah.” He analyzed the boxes in my hands. I handed him two of the three and reached over the table to grab a box that had a pair of skis on top. They were all beautiful, but he had to choose. Personal gifts meant so much more.

  I took the boxes from his hands and lined them up on the table along with the two I had. “Pick one, then we’ll get something to put in it. Maybe earrings or a necklace. You choose while I start looking at jewelry.”

  He looked like I’d just asked him to choose between smallpox and leprosy. Choosing a box wasn’t quite so ominous. It was a simple choice. All he needed to do was close his eyes and pick one, so I left him alone, certain he could figure it out.

  Within minutes he was back at my side with another bag in his hand. “I got it, I chose the gift box. It seemed the best option if we are going to put something in it.”

  Pragmatic. I liked that. “Good choice. What do you think of this?” I dangled a chain with a gold pine cone hanging from it in front of his face. “It’s a good reminder of her time in Aspen. By the way, what’s your sister’s name?”

  “Gretchen.” He took the pine cones and stared at it from every angle. I couldn’t read his expression. Wasn’t sure if he liked the idea or hated it. Maybe he needed more options.

  “How about a G?” I slid my arm through his and pulled him toward a different jewelry cabinet.

  “Naw, this is perfect.” He handed the pine cones to the salesgirl and whipped out his Amex card. “She knows how to spell her name.”

  We moved to the next shop—an outdoor store. It seemed the perfect playground for an active family. Elias’s eyes lit up like the topper on his Christmas tree.

  “Tell me who would love this store.” I had hoped he would say his dad, but it was obvious Elias loved it as well.

  “My dad and I used to go fly fishing when I was younger.” Trance-like, he walked toward the section containing poles and nets. Describing the different flies and what they achieved, it was clear this grown man got all excited over fishhooks that looked like bugs. They had names only men could have made up. Stimulator, Prince Nymph, and San Juan Worm to name a few. We found a sturdy gray tackle box and began to fill it up with various bug-like hooks.

  “You should go fishing again with your dad.” I picked up a red feathery fly called a Double D. Men. “A fishing trip would be a great present. The gift of time is priceless.” He rubbed his fingers along his clean-shaven jaw.

  “I should. I miss those times.” He reached over my head to grab the angler’s basket hanging from the display. When he brushed against me, I inhaled the scent of him. He smelled so damn sexy. “Anyway, I got busy, and we live so far away.”

  “You’re one state away, and the last time I checked they hadn’t locked down the borders.” His eyes turned soft with a look of longing, and I wondered how long it had been since he’d taken the time to be with his dad. “No excuses. It sounds like you have a good relationship with your family. Don’t let it slip away because you aren’t paying attention.” If money hadn’t been an issue I’d be with my family right now.

  “You’re right. I have no excuse, except work. I live, eat, and breathe work.” He took his collection of flies and fishing gear to the counter and paid. “Speaking of eating, I’m starving. All this shopping builds an appetite.” He seemed rather pleased with himself. Like a kid who had colored between the lines for the first time. Did he have to be so cute too?

  “Sounds good; I’m hungry, too.” It was hard for me to believe he was hungry after watching him eat a six-pound omelet just hours ago, but we had walked a long distance, and my stomach was grumbling.

  We walked th
e packages back to the car and trotted off empty-handed for lunch and round two of shopping.

  Elias picked an Italian bistro. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I’d eaten Italian the night before. It didn’t matter to me. I was enjoying my time with him. Becca, his ex, was an idiot. Elias was a catch. Everything about him was attractive. He bathed, he worked, he had manners, and he was hot.

  We sat in a little booth in the corner and enjoyed breadsticks and a glass of wine while the waiter put in our order for cannelloni and lasagna.

  “So, what about you? Did you get all your shopping finished?” Watching his mouth as he spoke, I decided he had lips wasted on a man. For that matter, he had eyelashes any girl would envy. Why was it the female species of the earth were saddled with dullness, while the male species were bathed in beauty? Life wasn’t fair.

  “Yes, I finished weeks ago. I’m not a fan of last-minute shopping. It seems disrespectful to me. Presents shouldn’t be an afterthought.” I didn’t mean for that to sound so harsh, but I believed when you waited until the last minute, two things happened: you had to settle for what was left, and often you had to spend a whole lot more.

  “How can buying a gift be considered disrespectful? It’s a gift.” He had a point, but . . .

  “Look what we got your family so far. The scarf for your mom is lovely, and according to you, she will be overjoyed with it. It’s not a gift card or a candle.” I tore a breadstick into bite-sized pieces. “Your sister will appreciate the quality of the box and necklace, but the gift for your dad means something.”

  “My dad will love that gift.” Little Elias Cole was back, and he was coloring in the lines again. He was so cute when he smiled from the heart.

  “Yes. It will strike an emotion. It will conjure a memory. That’s important. I knew my relationship was headed in the wrong direction last May when my ex bought me a box of business cards for my birthday. I already had two full sets in my desk drawer. He was checking off a box, filling an obligation.” The memory of that day no longer brought tears to my eyes, but I had cried a river big enough for Elias and his father to fish in.

  “Ouch. I have to confess. I hadn’t shopped for Becca yet. We didn’t have that kind of relationship.” He swirled the dark red liquid in his glass. “Her job kept her out of town most weeks and mine kept me too busy to notice.” He sipped his wine thoughtfully.

  Hmm, I have found a flaw in Mr. Tall, Dark, and Dreamy. Is that why she strayed? Was he not invested in their relationship? He hadn’t noticed her absence. Ryan had been like that, and I had hated his ambivalence.

  The waiter placed our dishes in front of us. His was a meaty lasagna and mine was ricotta-filled cannelloni with marinara sauce. We would both need a mint when finished. The garlic was heavy, just the way I liked it.

  “Breakups around the holidays are the worst. I’m sorry for yours.” I cut into my cannelloni and watched the cheese ooze onto my plate. Breakups were a lot like cannelloni. You tried to get a clean break, but it was often messy.

  “I’m not. We had two things in common. Our love for food and . . .” His ears turned red. It wasn’t tough to deduce what the second thing was. “The hardest thing is disappointing my parents. I’ve been single for so long. I’m surprised they haven’t had an intervention. Last year my sister teased me about having a coming-out party.” He bit into his lasagna, and I swear I heard him hum.

  “You do have a good-looking boyish face.” I reached over and plucked at his heavy bottom lip. His reflexes were too quick for me. He nipped at the tip of my finger, and I squealed.

  “I’m a good-looking boy? I’d like to show you how man-like I could be. I promise I could change your impression of me.” A funny gasp left my mouth before I could catch it. My heart flipped like a tossed pizza. He was flirting with me . . . and I liked it.

  “I was just pointing out the fact you have what I call an evergreen face. You look younger than you are, and that’s a good thing. I wasn’t attacking your manhood.” Nice save, Cici.

  “Too bad.” Now he was just being a brat. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip, and I stared at him in the same way a cat watches a mouse. Only, I didn’t pounce. I wanted to, but Elias was my boss, and I had traveled that muddy path once before.

  I tried to change the subject to a neutral topic. His talk about manhood and promises had me squirming uncomfortably in my seat. It had been half a year since I’d been intimate with a man. Elias wasn’t my normal type, which is why he was so perfect for me. My type only led to heartache and pain.

  “We still have to get a few more things for your mom and sister. How’s our budget?” I didn’t want to break the bank while being his personal shopper. Lots of people said money wasn’t an issue, only to panic when the credit card came.

  “Really? We’re fine, but I appreciate the concern. Not many women would think about the budget.”

  “You’re hanging out with the wrong women.”

  “Apparently.” He scrunched his napkin and covered his empty plate. The man could sure put away the food.

  We walked a little slower throughout the afternoon. A nap would have been nice after all the food we’d eaten.

  My favorite bookstore, Doodles, was to our right. It always called to me. There weren’t many brick and mortar bookstores left in the world. They were dying a slow death due to the popularity of digital media. I liked to have a book in my hand at times, but I also liked the convenience of a Kindle. “Does your sister like to read? There’s nothing better than a bubble bath and an e-reader filled with romance novels.” I stared at the window display, which was packed with a book called Twenty Dates to Love.

  “Yep, her nose is always in a book. What’s a Kindle?” How could this man not know what a Kindle was?

  “It’s an electronic book. Call your mom and ask if Gretchen has one.” I left him to make the call and walked next door into Suds, a wonderful store full of bath salts, essential oils, and bath bubbles. I was out of my bath salts and nothing relaxed me more than soaking in a tub infused with lavender.

  He whispered in my ear. “What did you get?” Having not heard him approach, I nearly dropped the jar of purple salts. What a mess that would have made had it hit the tile floor and shattered. The man was lethal. His whispered words sent a chill down my spine.

  I spun around and held the jar beneath his nose. He inhaled, and I could almost see the scent moving through him. He had the look of a crack addict getting his fix. First, his eyes rolled slightly backward, then his body shuddered. I imagined he would have melted into a puddle if we weren’t in public.

  “It’s my favorite.” I’ve always liked lavender. It had been my version of Prozac when knee-deep in finals at college.

  “Now it’s mine.” He took the jar from my hand. He reached behind me and pulled two more from the shelf before he walked the jars to the counter and asked the saleswoman for complementary products. She came back with soaps and lotions and sachets. I pulled my jar from the mix, but he insisted on buying my bath goodies. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. I hoped the women in his family liked lavender. They were getting an immense collection. I gave him credit for trying.

  “What did your mom say about the Kindle?” He carried the heavy bags while I led us into several more shops.

  “She said Gretchen’s Kindle died several months ago. I looked them up and ordered one to be shipped overnight. Do you have a Kindle?” He pushed me toward a men’s clothing store.

  “I do, an older model, but it works perfectly. I hope you got her the backlit one.”

  “I got her the best one they had, and a gift card to fill it up.”

  “Ebenezer, how you’ve changed. And it didn’t take three ghosts to pull you from the abyss.”

  “No, it took a Christmas elf named Chloe. What else do we need to get?” A large, genuine smile graced his gorgeous face. The look in his eyes—one of kind appreciation—should be banned. Too handsome. Damn the man.

  “Wrapping paper, ribbons, and bow
s. You have a lot of wrapping to do tonight.” I spun around and headed back the way we’d come. Pips Paper and Things was in the opposite direction we were walking.

  “Oh no, you don’t, you have to wrap too. I don’t wrap. I pay people to wrap.” We walked into Pips. “Oh Holy Night” serenaded the shoppers. I loved Christmas music, always had, which made it my favorite time of year to shop.

  “You hired me to shop not wrap.” In spite of the endless choices, I managed to narrow it down to six and asked Elias to choose four. So far he had done pretty well for a self-proclaimed Grinch. I was pretty sure choosing wrapping paper wasn’t going to send him over the edge.

  “Just four?” He pulled his selections from the pile. “That was easy. Now for the hard part. Will you wrap them for me?”

  “No.”

  “No?” I didn’t realize a person’s brows could lift nearly to their hairline. Elias probably didn’t hear that word often.

  “No, I won’t do it for you. I’ll do it with you. Come on, Elias, you’ve done so well today. Dive into the whole experience. Let’s go to the store and get eggnog. We can listen to Christmas music and make your packages pretty, or we can watch something on TV while we wrap.”

  There was no shin kicking or ear pulling and yet the man looked pained. This wasn’t the firing squad. It was present wrapping.

  “The last Christmas movie I watched was Home Alone.” His hands were full, so when we approached the register, rather than put the bags down, he asked me to reach into his pocket and grab his credit card. It seemed such a familiar thing to do.

  That meant leaning into his personal space—shame—smelling his heavenly scent—double shame—and placing my hand in his pockets. Did someone just turn the temperature up in this store?

  “McCauley Caulkin is older than you. You’re so far behind on Christmas movies.” The cashier ran the card and Elias asked me to sign for him. I was used to signing for clients, but normally they weren’t present when I spent their money. “Here’s the deal. I’ll help you wrap presents, but you have to watch a Christmas movie while we do it.”