Cole in My Stocking (17 page)

“You have a guy in Philly?”

I snorted. “No. I wouldn’t be sitting here like this with you if I did.”

“Good.” He nuzzled my neck. I felt the stubble on his cheeks and loved the roughness of it. Shivers traveled up and down my spine. “Well, you’ve got one in New Hampshire. If you don’t mind dating a dinosaur.”

My heart gave a weak
pitter-pat.

I should have been too overwhelmed to process that, but I wasn’t. It should have seemed like terrible timing, but it didn’t.

I felt Cole’s offer all the way to my marrow. It soothed the ragged edges of my soul.

I turned to look at his handsome face. “You’re not a dinosaur,” I said with a watery smile. “But, um, I live in Philly. And…I don’t really…date.” I said this as I wrapped my arms tight around his waist. My head knew a relationship with Cole was out of the question for all kinds of reasons. My body thought it was the perfect solution to every problem I’d ever had.

“Details, details,” he muttered. He stroked a hand along my hair, making goose bumps erupt up and down my arms beneath my sweater. “We’ll figure it out. I’ve waited too long for you to let a few hundred miles stand in my way.”

Did I just hear him correctly? Cole had been waiting for me?

I tipped my head back to stare at him like he was some mythical creature. A unicorn, powerful and virile, allowing me to pet him, asking me to come for a ride. I wanted him. So badly. But my version of wanting would be like trapping a beautiful creature in a cage. Cole deserved a woman who would run free with him and frolic with abandon through fields of passion.

“It’s not going to work,” I warned him.

“Only one way to find out.” He captured my chin in one hand and lowered his mouth to mine. When the kiss landed, his chest shuddered. His lips gently massaged mine. They were softer than they looked.

I melted against him. His rock-hard body didn’t give an inch, but I somehow fit against him, more perfectly than I could have imagined. A little moan tried to escape past my closed lips. I wanted to open them, but Cole was in charge, and his hands at my back and his insistent but closed mouth seemed to say,
we’ll take this slow.

A low rumble in his throat made me think of an enormous bear groaning, sated after devouring ten pounds of salmon. Then he raised his head.

It was over too soon.

“This works, honey. It works just fine.”

Chapter 13

Christmas morning found me dressed in work attire: black slacks, an emerald green, fitted sweater that matched my eyes, and my Mary Janes. I was tastefully made up with my hair blown dry with a round brush into layers of shiny brown waves down my back. I was all ready to spend the day with Cole at his mother’s house in Derry. Except for one thing.

I stared at the present I’d bought for him where it sat on the bookshelf. To take it or not to take it?

I dropped it in my purse. Taking it along didn’t mean I had to give it to him. Most likely, I’d return it tomorrow. But I had to have something on hand in case he’d gotten me a gift, right?

Gravel crunching under snow tires alerted me to his arrival. My stomach rolled over with excitement and nerves.

His kiss had replayed in my mind a hundred times since he’d left last night. The man knew how to deliver bad news. Everything he’d told me about Stacey’s investigation, the motorcycle gang, and my dad had stung like crazy, but that kiss had washed it all away and left me relaxed and accepting.

When I’d started yawning, he’d pecked me on the cheek and left me with a promise to be back at ten thirty in the morning. I’d taken my time getting ready for bed and had finally lain down with a peaceful understanding that everything Cole told me had happened in the past. It was over. The men who had assaulted me were in jail. They would never hurt another woman. The memories would always haunt me, but I could stop feeling guilty about all the things I’d done wrong after the assault. I could turn the page on that chapter of my life.

The next chapter promised to be new and exciting. The heading at the top:
Cole.

Too bad this chapter was bound to be a short one. Whatever we were doing here, it could only last a week or two. I was getting vibes from him that he expected it to last longer, but he didn’t know what he was getting into with me.

Cole’s age didn’t bother me in the slightest. But his air of confidence and experience gave me pause. He might be content to take things slow at the start of a relationship, but his patience would wane pretty quickly when he went for second base or let his erection brush against me and instead of a welcoming, sexually-competent girlfriend, he got a panicky, hyperventilating mess. I knew this because other men, decent men, had gracefully (and sometimes not so gracefully) bowed out when attempts to go beyond just kissing turned into fiery train wrecks of damaged egos and embarrassment.

Cole was a good guy, but no guy, no matter how good, would put up with a woman who couldn’t eventually put out.

I was doomed to be an old maid. I would never get married, never have kids. I’d made peace with the fact. Instead of kids, I’d get cats. Instead of a family, I’d pour myself into my career and clients. I would emotionally invest in my friends and keep too busy to lament the absence of a lover.

Maybe it was wrong of me to let Cole continue under the assumption we could be an
us
for longer than it would take me to wrap up Dad’s estate, but I didn’t have the self-control not to enjoy his unfathomable caring while I could.

I would live my high-school dream now. There would be plenty of time to hate myself later.

I pulled on my coat, armed the alarm, and locked up. Gift-laden purse in hand, I walked to the truck. The lenses of Cole’s scuffed Oakleys followed me the whole way. When I climbed up in the cab, I found him wearing khakis and a sky-blue dress shirt with the top button undone to offer a glimpse of a white undershirt.

He pinched the temple piece of his sunglasses between a forefinger and thumb and slid them off. Like a lightning strike, it hit me that his eyes were the exact same shade as his shirt. A girl could get lost in all that blue and hope never to be found.

“’Morning,” he said, and such sweet longing smacked my heart, I could hardly breathe through it.

My mouth opened and closed. No sound came out.

Cole grinned. He slid the sunglasses on and put the truck in gear. Slinging his arm around my headrest, he backed down the driveway. His scent of ocean breeze soap and woodsy cologne reminded me of bonfires on the coast with my friends…only sexier. Once on the road, he took his arm back. “Buckle up, honey.”

I’d forgotten my seatbelt. I never forgot my seatbelt.

I hurried to strap myself in.

His grin got bigger as he hit the gas.

Forget the truck. Cole ought to come with a safety belt. And air bags. And a roll bar.

I could fall for this man. Fall hard and not want to get back up. Just lie there, fallen into a safety net of affection and protection, rolling around in it like a horse in the first fresh shoots of spring clover.

“You okay?” Cole asked as he crossed Route 125 onto Hunt Road. He was taking a route to Derry that would bring us through Kingston and Hampstead. Most journeys from Newburgh to anywhere of note meant crossing several other small towns on winding two-lane roads. “You look freaked.”

“I’m fine,” I said a mite too quickly. I realized I was fidgeting with the crease in my pants and made myself stop.

“Don’t freak.”

“I’m not freaking.” I hated that he could tell I was freaking. And I marveled at the unexpected miracle of this amazing man actually liking me despite everything we’d been through in our separate but related universes.

His mouth quirked. “You’re freaking. Weirded out about meeting my family?”

“Maybe,” I admitted.

“I’m going to introduce you as my girlfriend, you know.”

Hey, Mom. Here’s my twenty-four year old girlfriend, who was fifteen when I was thirty-one. I was BFFs with her dad.

I had no problem with the age difference between me and Cole. That didn’t mean his family was going to be psyched about it.

“Stop freaking,” he said. “You’re going to gnaw a hole through your lip.”

I made myself knock off the nervous lip-nibbling. “I can’t help it.”

He reached across the console to put a big, warm hand on my knee. “We’re going to have a good day today, yeah? It’s Christmas.”

I nodded and attempted a smile.

“Tell me about the public health place you work at. What does a social worker do?”

“What doesn’t a social worker do?” I quipped, finding my confidence at last. I launched into a description of what a day in the life of Mandy Holcomb, M.A.C.P., M.P.H. looked like, the phone calls, the counseling, the paperwork, the meetings, the in-service talks I gave once a month at local high-schools, the endless search for more funding. Then I asked Cole what he did. I learned that state troopers did a lot more than just patrol the roads and highways. They supported local law enforcement and carried out their own investigations via the major crime unit Cole’s friend Stacey worked for.

Before I knew it, half an hour had passed and we were pulling up in front of a large, yellow Craftsman with a wrap-around porch. Colorful lights, plastic reindeer, and a waving snowman balloon made a Christmas playground of the front yard. Giant candy canes lined the walkway up to the house. I felt my smile stretch from ear to ear.

Cole hopped out and started unloading bags of presents from the truck’s back seat onto the curb.

“Someone’s been shopping,” I said as I walked around to help. I felt like a heel not having gifts for anybody. Well, there was the one for Cole, but I hadn’t decided whether or not to give it to him yet.

“Most of these are for my nieces and nephews, but I got a few little things for my brother and sisters. And Ma of course. And Gramps.”

That was the second time Cole mentioned his mother. He’d never said anything about his father. I wanted to ask why, but couldn’t figure out how to do it tactfully. I settled for, “Wow, big family, huh? How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

“One older brother, three younger sisters.” He thrust a shopping bag stuffed with presents into my arms. “I’m the only one not married, so expect some well-intentioned scrutiny.” He winked and headed up Candy Cane Lane to knock on a door dressed with a wreath and a knitted decoration spelling out
J-O-Y
.

J-U-M-P
would have been a better reflection of my state of mind. Had Cole just implied his family would be inspecting me for marriage suitability? Jiminy Christmas! One didn’t just toss out the “m” word when casually conversing with one’s brand new (temporary) girlfriend, especially if he wanted her to exchange coherent greetings with his family.

A man answered the door. He looked like Cole but not quite as tall and with more hair. This must be his brother.

“Hey! It’s Cole!” he announced loud enough for the whole house to hear.

This was met with cries of “Hi, Uncle Cole,” and, “Uncle Cole, Uncle Cole! Come see what Dad gave me in my stocking!” And “Cole, honey, how are you?” The last came from a tall, stocky woman with a gray bob as she barreled toward the door in a mauve pantsuit and a frilly apron streaked with flour. She squeezed past Cole’s brother and hauled Cole inside a narrow, coat-cluttered entryway and then into a fierce hug, presents be damned. “I’m so sorry about Gripper, honey.”

“Thanks, Ma.”

“Yeah, bro, me too,” Cole’s brother said. “Must have sucked to be there when your friend passed. Though I’m sure he appreciated it.”

Cole sniffed and cleared his throat as they exchanged one of those manly, back-thumping hugs. “Yeah, thanks, man.”

Cole’s mother leaned back to project her voice into the house, “Kids, come take these presents from Uncle Cole and put them under the tree.”

About half a dozen children of various ages descended on the entryway in a tornado of squeals and grabbing hands. After they made off with the bags Cole and I had been carrying, I felt the need to look down and make sure I still had my purse and pants.

Only after the kids disappeared did I register what Cole’s brother said. Cole had been there when Dad died?

I remembered how thick his stubble had been the night he found me with the flat.
“Been a long day. Couple-a days, actually.”
He’d watched Dad die, then he’d put in a twelve-hour patrol shift. Ever since, he’d been taking care of me. For all Tooley’s huffing and puffing about how he’d been there for Dad, Cole was the one who’d held his hand at the end.

I searched his eyes as he slung an arm around my shoulders, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was beaming at his mother and brother.

“Ma, Bill, this is Mandy. Gripper’s daughter. My girlfriend as of last night.”

His mother gasped. I couldn’t tell if it was a good or bad gasp until she smothered me in a hug. I stood very still while she petted my head and gave me her condolences for my father. “Oh, honey, I couldn’t believe it when Cole told us Gripper was sick. That cancer.
Tsk, tsk.
That’s what took Cole’s father. Four years ago now, rest his soul.”

Cole’s father had died of cancer? I caught his gaze, wondering how to extricate myself from the embrace. I wasn’t a hugger. Well, not with anyone but Cole.

He just stood there with smiling eyes, offering no help at all.

His mother released me and took both of my hands in both of hers. “How are you coping?” Her eyes, blue like Cole’s and made up with neutral shadow and tasteful mascara, widened as she awaited my answer.

“Um, fine,” I said. Her intense attention threw me for a loop. I wasn’t used to maternal concern. My throat worked in an awkward swallow.

“You call me Bernice,” she said. “And you phone me or message me on Facebook if Cole treats you like anything but a queen.”

“Ma,” Cole said, exasperated, but with affection in his voice.

Bernice reached past me to tweak Cole’s cheek.

Bill thrust his hand toward me, and I shook it. “Nice to meet you,” he said. “Heard a lot about you. And Gripper. Sorry for your loss. My wife, Gina, is around here somewhere. And four of the little monsters are ours. I’d introduce them, but Grandma has them all sugared up. No way they’ll stand still long enough for me to say their names. Come on in out of the cold, you two.” He led the way into a large living room with hardwood floors.