After the Christmas Party (9 page)

“Apparently your Christmas mornings were very different from mine.” At her house Christmas had just been another day. No big deal. Actually, if she’d made the mistake of mentioning the holidays, Christmas morning had been worse than other days because her mother would go into a bigger than normal rant. New Year had never been able to get there soon enough.

“Were you so naughty that Santa didn’t visit?” His tone was teasing, but Trinity had to look away because she’d swear something had blown into her eyes. Probably a bit of fake snow off the ginormous tree gracing the entryway of the shopping mall.

Stupid tree. Stupid fake snow. Stupid shopping trip. Stupid her for coming here and dredging up all these memories.

She was not going to let him see her cry, had learned long ago to hide her pain. Most of the time, at any rate. So she slid her game face on, the same one she’d worn year after year.

“Apparently so, because he never did.”

Riley stared at Trinity, trying to decide if she was joking. The pale undertones to her skin and tight set to her mouth before she’d turned away from him said she wasn’t but that she would just as soon he thought she was.

He’d really stuck his foot in his mouth on this one. He’d been teasing her, wanting to make her smile, wanting
to make her reveal more about herself, and she had. But he felt awful. Surely, she was over-exaggerating?

“Not even once?”

Her eyes downcast and expression somber, she shrugged. “It’s not a big deal, Riley. We’ve been through this already. Christmas is just a commercial gimmick to make people spend money. I didn’t need Santa bringing me presents. Not then or now.”

The lift of her chin declared she didn’t need anything and dared anyone to claim she did. Was that what she really believed? If so, shame on her parents.

“Didn’t your parents believe in Christmas? In the joy of giving?” He couldn’t imagine his own parents not making a big deal out of the holidays. It was the one and only time of the year his father took time away from work. His mother had barely been able to wait to get her house decorated. Pretty much the minute she had removed the remains of the turkey from the table at Thanksgiving, she’d have him and his brothers start carrying down precisely labeled totes of decorations. Despite whining, those times were some of his best memories.

Although he hadn’t given it much conscious thought, he was carrying on in her footsteps right down to how he stored his Christmas goodies.

“Oh, my mother believed in the joy of giving all year long.” But the way Trinity said the words conveyed a very different message from the one Riley had meant.

Poor Trinity, not having similar holiday traditions. As crazy as his family was, his Christmas memories were all good ones, except for those first few following his father’s death when his mother had seemed lost and forlorn. Riley had vowed to give her back her Christmas
mojo and he had. Their shopping and decorating spree the previous week was proof enough of that.

Trinity rubbed her hand across her forehead, sucked in a breath and stared into an electronics store window as if their display was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen. For a brief moment he thought her eyes watered, but not a single tear fell so he might have been wrong.

But he doubted it.

“What about your father?”

She gave a low laugh. “I have no clue about my father’s thoughts on Christmas, or anything else for that matter. He left before I was born.”

That he could relate to on some levels, because although his father had lived in the same house he’d rarely been home. Except at Christmas.

He’d wanted to know more about Trinity and her comments had revealed more than any other statement that she’d ever made. Yet all it had really done was to pose more questions. Questions that he didn’t think walking in a shopping mall was the right time to ask. But someday he wanted to tear down the walls she hid behind.

“Well, Trinity Warren, this is your lucky year, because this Christmas is going to be your best ever.” He squeezed her hand, knowing if he’d brought joy back to his mother’s holidays he could do so to Trinity’s too. “I promise.”

“It’s really not a big deal.” But the no big deal had her voice choking a little beyond what she was able to hide. Maybe her eyes really had watered.

“Christmas is just another day,” she continued, protesting a little too much perhaps. “I usually volunteer to
work. I really don’t mind and really don’t need a ‘best ever’ Christmas.”

In years past, he’d volunteered to work as well so that others with children could be at home with their loved ones. He imagined he’d do the same this Christmas Day, too. His family all understood that he could be called away from celebrations at any time, but fortunately he’d always been at the family get-together for at least most of the day.

He loved the craziness of his family under one roof, of kids running around everywhere, shaking packages, wanting to know what Uncle Riley had bought them this year, and his mother warning that he’d better not have bought them anything that was going to cause a ruckus in her house. And, of course, he always did.

“My mom cooks a big Christmas lunch. My whole family goes. And I do mean the whole family. There’s a bunch of us—aunts, uncles, my mother, two brothers and two sisters, and more nieces and nephews than I can count these days.” He smiled at the thought of his family. “It’s a bit of mayhem, but in a good way. Maybe you’d like to go with me?”

Her gaze cut to his and a panicky look shone in her eyes. “Why?”

Why? Good question because Trinity going with him would raise all kinds of questions and expectations in his family’s minds. He’d never brought a woman home for the holidays.

“Because I’d like to take you with me.” Despite whatever teasing and questions her presence triggered, he knew he’d never spoken truer words. “I want you to spend Christmas Day with me, to be there with me and my family, to see what Christmas is really like.”

Because no way could she go with him and not be enchanted with the holidays.

Her eyes definitely a little misty, she sucked in a deep breath. “Like I said, I’ll probably be working, so I shouldn’t make any plans. Thanks, though.”

That was a cop-out if he’d ever heard one. Why was she being so stubborn when he was offering to include her in his life? Something past girlfriends had begged for. He was offering to take Trinity to his most important family get-together, one he cherished and had never risked an outsider disrupting, and she was tossing it back in his face?

“But if you’re not working, you’ll go?” He resented having to push when she should be happy to be invited, but he wasn’t going to let her be vague with her answer. She’d wiggle out of going if he let her.

“I’ll be working.”

He arched his brow. If having to work was all that stood in the way of her going with him, he’d find a way to get someone else to work in her stead. Even if it meant slipping someone a nice fat Christmas bonus out of his own pocket. He wanted Trinity with him and, as crazy as it was, he’d do almost anything to ensure she was. She needed to experience the magic of Christmas and what better way than with his family?

“Fine.” She relented at his look.

He could tell she was only agreeing because she didn’t think that whether or not she’d be working was an issue. She planned to work, would probably beg to work. A spark of annoyance flashed through him. Surely she didn’t think he’d let her get away with that?

“If I’m not working, I’ll go with you to Christmas dinner with your family.” She gave him a stern look.
“But the next time you ask me out to dinner, there had better actually be food involved rather than shopping because, in case you couldn’t tell by looking at me, I’m not one of those girls who skips meals.”

He threw his head back in laughter. “Funny girl. You’re perfect just as you are, princess, and should never skip meals. No worries. I will feed you. Right after we buy your decorations.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

U
HE LAST THING
Trinity wanted in her apartment was Christmas decorations. She certainly didn’t want to waste her hard-earned money on glittery, glowing fake trees and wreaths and garlands. Just having to walk through the aisles of ornaments and bows made her skin crawl.

She fought the urge to throw her hands into the air and run out of the store. This was pure torture.

Telling Riley the truth about her childhood had been torture. Why had she done so?

She’d never told anyone. Not even Chase. She’d not wanted to see the look of pity in his eyes, hadn’t wanted anyone’s pity. She was doing just fine, had a good life overall. She didn’t need some man coming along and stirring up all kinds of childhood hang-ups to go along with the new ones Chase had hand-delivered two years ago.

She hadn’t liked the sympathy in Riley’s eyes. She didn’t need his sympathy. She hadn’t needed him to invite her to spend Christmas with his family out of pity.

“What about this?” Riley asked, pointing out a box of red glass balls. He’d already pointed out more than two dozen decorations, all of which she’d turned down.
She could tell he was losing patience with her. Good. Hopefully, he’d soon take the hint that she really didn’t want to be doing this. Maybe she could fake a stomach growl to speed things along. She willed her stomach to let loose with a loud rumble, but didn’t even manage a tiny one.

Great, the one time she wanted loud body noises around a hot guy and she couldn’t even force one out. It figured.

Barely glancing at what he held, she shook her head. “No, thank you. Not interested. Besides, I really don’t need any decorations. Just dinner.”

“I’ve never met anyone who needs decorations more than you.” His frustration was obvious and rubbed her wrong.

“I think I’m offended by that comment.” She hadn’t asked him to take her shopping, had only agreed to dinner, not a stroll down holiday horror lane.

He raked his fingers through his hair, glanced around the aisle then faced her. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

“Because there’s a good way to say someone needs plastic garland, fake glass balls and gaudy red velvet bows?”

“Precisely.” Obviously having whipped his frustration into control, he grinned and held up a box of horrid cheap plastic candy canes for her inspection. “What about these? Awesome, right?”

Hoping he’d take the hint, Trinity didn’t hide her boredom, just yawned. “If I pretended that my blood sugar was bottoming out, could we go and eat? Please?”

His gaze narrowed suspiciously. “Is your sugar dropping?”

She grimaced then shook her head. “No, but I could fake it.”

He touched her chin, tilted her face towards him. “As long as I have breath in my body, I don’t ever want you faking anything. I don’t want you to even have need of faking anything.” His lips twitched. “And I do mean
anything.”

His fingers burned her skin, singeing her flesh with the feel of him. She stepped back before she did something stupid. Like say she wanted to buy mistletoe. Bunches and bunches of mistletoe. Barrels of it.

“Okay, deal,” she agreed, hoping he didn’t see how his touch had made her pulse race and her breath catch. “Feed me, so I don’t have to fake interest in shopping.”

He shook his head in obvious displeasure. “If you really want to go, we’ll go, but I’m disappointed that we didn’t find a single thing you wanted.”

She wanted him to touch her again, and in more places than just her chin. Did that count? It should because it was a really big want.

Then she saw it.

At the end of the aisle on a platform. A ten-and-a–half-foot blue spruce fake tree decorated with snowflakes and angels and silver ribbon that twined back and forth between the branches. A toy train set was wound around the base and a few packages assured hidden delights but were probably nothing more than empty promises. No matter. It was what was at the very top of the tree that had caught her eye.

A big shiny star that looked absolutely magical and just like the one she’d seen at her elementary school when she’d been five.

That Christmas she remembered well.

That Christmas she’d gotten caught up in the excitement of her classmates, in the whole spirit of Christmas. Prior to then she hadn’t even been sure if she’d known what Christmas or Santa had even been about. She’d written a rudimentary letter to Santa and even crawled up in his lap when he’d come to her classroom. Packed back in her things she had a Polaroid photo of that moment that she’d kept hidden away over the years for some crazy reason. Probably a reminder of what lay ahead when one got one’s hopes up and believed in things that weren’t real.

With excitement she’d told Santa of what she’d wanted more than anything and he’d told her to be a good girl and come Christmas morning she’d find her surprise under the tree.

She’d been as good as gold. Better than any five-year-old had ever been, surely. She’d gone to bed on Christmas Eve full of hope and had barely been able to sleep because she’d been sure she’d wake up to a pile of goodies but mainly to the pair of new sneakers she’d desperately wanted. Her others had been hand-me-downs and had grown too small. A new pair of stylish pink hightops for school was going to be a breeze with how good she’d been.

Only there had been no surprise. Or even a tree. Her mother had claimed the entire holiday was nothing more than a scam and she wasn’t spending hard-earned money on something as ridiculous as putting a tree inside their tiny apartment.

When her mother had found her crying, she’d complained that Christmas was a rich man’s holiday invented to make poor parents like her look bad and that
Trinity should feel ashamed for making her feel bad. Then she’d gone off and drunk until she’d passed out.

The same as she did the other three hundred and sixty-four days of the year. Only without Trinity having set herself up with false hopes that the day might bring something different.

She had stopped believing. Right then and there at five years old she’d quit believing in Christmas and Santa. Sure, she’d still gone through the motions at school and, after she’d graduated from college, at work. But she’d never believed the holiday to be anything more than commercialized hype meant to build false hopes and to disappoint. How absolutely fitting had it been that Chase had broken her heart at a Christmas party?