Cole in My Stocking (28 page)

“That about sums it up.”

“That sounds calculating.” I hugged myself and burrowed further into Cole’s side.

“Hey.” He jostled me. “We’ll find who did this. We’ve got a lot of avenues to investigate. If the physical evidence doesn’t yield anything and we don’t find any witnesses, we’ve got the gun angle. Some of the pieces your dad had will be trackable just because they’re so rare. Did you know he has a document in his shop files detailing the origins and serial numbers of every gun?”

“I didn’t know that, but it doesn’t surprise me.” Dad had been meticulous with documentation of any kind. Business records or personal, it didn’t matter. His house might have been a cluttered disaster, but once paperwork made it into his filing cabinets, they would be orderly and easily navigable. “So, you were up in the shop? Does that mean they found Dad’s keys in the rubble?”

Cole nodded. “Your keys too. I tried the one for your Blazer, and it works fine. We’ll go together to pick it up sometime. The other keys should be okay too, but you might want your super to go with you the first time you unlock your apartment when you get back, just in case. I put them in the junk drawer in my kitchen for safe keeping.”

“Thank you.” That was a load off my mind. I mentally checked off calling a locksmith to replace my car key.

“Thought you’d like that,” he said with a crinkle of his eyes.

I twined my fingers with his, loving how big his hands were compared to mine.

He rolled one of the beads on my bracelet with his thumb. “I won’t rest until I’ve found each and every one of those guns, you know. You have my word on that.”

I believed him. “Thank you, Cole. For everything.”

“Any time, honey.”

I liked being Cole’s honey.

We watched the snow fall for a few minutes. Cole broke the peaceful silence. “I forgot to tell you, Brock heard what happened and came by this afternoon with a can of primer. Once the graffiti was documented and paint samples taken, they let him cover the writing. The garage looks good as new.”

A warm spot bloomed in my chest at the unexpected kindness. Brock was a friend of Dad’s and sort of a neighbor. He owned the property the dump occupied, leasing it to the county for a small income. He also operated the weigh station during dump hours. He didn’t live on the property, but he kept a run-down camper near the weigh station, and I happened to know he stayed there sometimes. The camper butted up against the chain link fence separating Dad’s property and the access road from the dump. Other than garbage trucks, dump trucks, and Dad’s customers, Brock was the only other person who ever drove past our section of Grizzly Road.

Painting outdoors in freezing temps couldn’t have been much fun. I owed Brock a big thank you. “That was really nice of him,” I said. “Poor Brock. I wonder what he thinks about having two criminals out on the access road last night.” I sat up straight. “Hey, he didn’t happen to see anything, did he?”

“Nah. Said he was home that night celebrating Christmas with his pit bull.”

“I don’t blame him. Spending Christmas at the dump would have been pretty depressing.” I yawned, my early morning combined with the late night we’d had Christmas Eve catching up with me. It had to be catching up with Cole too. A beer-themed clock over the DVD rack said it was nine fifty. I toyed with the buttons at the neck of his Henley. “You must be exhausted. It’s almost ten.”

“I’m okay. This is relaxing. I’d rather be here with you and awake than asleep in bed by myself.”

This man made me ridiculously happy. He was by far the sweetest guy I’d ever dated. Sweetness aside, I wasn’t about to let him skimp on sleep. He worked twelve-hour days, and his job had the potential for danger. He’d be at his best and therefore safest if he was well rested. He couldn’t have gotten more than three hours last night. If I got him into bed in the next ten minutes and he got up at five in the morning to get ready for his day, that would give him seven hours tonight. Eight would be better, but I wouldn’t have given up our last hour of talking for anything. “What if I lay down with you until you fall asleep?”

He hummed contentedly. “That’d be nice, honey.”

“Then it’s a date.” I straightened off the couch and offered a hand to help pull him up. “Meet you in the guest room in ten?”

“Make it five.”

Chapter 20

Cole had never gotten ready for bed so fast in his life. When he’d given Mandy his room, he’d moved his every-day toiletries to the hall bathroom. Standing in front of the pedestal sink and mirror, he ran the toothbrush back and forth a few times, skipped the floss, took care of the necessities and crossed the hall to the guest bedroom.

Closing the door, he changed into sweats and an undershirt. He normally slept in just boxers, but he wasn’t going to climb in bed mostly naked with Mandy about to join him. He was ready to go full throttle with her, had been since the minute he saw she was back in town, if he was honest with himself. But she wasn’t anywhere near ready, judging by the physical issues she’d brought up on the way home from his mom’s Christmas night. He wasn’t about to push her, especially when they hadn’t even begun to discuss those issues yet.

He’d take whatever she could give him and not a single bit more, even if that meant nothing but holding and kissing her. Hell, he was ecstatic with holding and kissing her. It sure beat having her hundreds of miles away and practically unaware of his existence.

After cracking the door open, he peeled back the covers and crawled into the full-size bed he kept for guests even though he’d never actually had a guest sleep over, not in this bed, anyway. His bed was another story. But none of the guests he’d shared his bed with over the years held a candle to the woman who slept there now. Not even close.

One day, he and Mandy would sleep in that bed together. But it might be a while. Fine with him. As long as he had her in his life, he could handle sleeping in separate beds. Separate states would suck big time, but he’d cross that bridge when he got to it. For now, he had her in his house. He’d enjoy it while it lasted.

A soft knock sounded. The door opened. Mandy peered tentatively toward the bed. She had on those adorable flannel pajamas she’d worn last night, light blue with little white dots all over like snowflakes. Her feet were bare, like his. Maybe it made him the world’s biggest perv, but the thought of rubbing his feet over hers under the covers made him achingly hard. Jesus, if that’s all it took, it was going to be a long while before he got to sleep.

He raised the blankets, inviting her in.

She smiled. Arrow to his heart. “Sure you’ve got room for me in there?”

“I’d have room for you in a sleeping bag.”

Her smile grew. She flicked the switch, killing the lights and freezing that smile in his memory. When she joined him, the soothing scents of vanilla and mint wafted off her. He scooped her to his chest, inhaling deeply.

He ran warmer than she did, so when she snuggled in close, she felt cool as a freshly turned pillow. Mindful of her history, he edged his hips back. She didn’t need to feel his hard-on and read anything into it. He’d been doing that a lot lately, pretending he didn’t have a constant erection around her.

Time to think about something other than how automatically and thoroughly his body responded to her. “You doing okay after everything?” She’d had a lot of shocks the past couple of days. A weaker woman would be an emotional wreck. Not Mandy. That didn’t mean she wasn’t suffering beneath her veneer of strength.

“I think so,” she said carefully. “I mean, there’s a lot going on. I’m angry and sad. Dad’s trailer wasn’t very nice, but it was home when I was a kid. I want his guns back. I’m upset about losing all mom’s clothes—” Her voice hitched. “And the flag from the funeral.”

He tightened his hold on her, cupped the back of her head. “We’ll get you another one of those. Not a problem.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it, okay?” He made a mental note to order a replacement flag and keepsake case from the Veterans organization on Monday.

Another sniff. “Okay. Thanks.”

“And all the paperwork and estate stuff, I’ll be able to help you with that next week. It’s a light week for me. I only work Wednesday.”

“A double shift, right?”

“Yeah. Rest of the week, including New Year’s Day, I’m all yours.”

“I like the sound of that.”

He chuckled. His girl knew how to flirt. That was for sure.

“Anyway,” she said on a sigh that turned into a yawn. “I guess it could have been worse. I’m trying not to wallow in being upset, you know? The shop was okay. And Dad’s truck and Harley. Max doesn’t think the fire will devalue the estate. He said the trailer was actually a liability. Selling the property will be easier with just the garage and space for a new house to go up.” She wound one arm around his waist. Her fingertips teased his spine. He was never going to lose his wood at this rate. “I think it would be cool to have a shooting range there.” Her voice got sleepier and sleepier. “It’s a good spot for it, with nothing behind but acres and acres of garbage. But whatever. It might not be a gun person who buys the land.”

“You’re a real trooper, honey. You know that?”

“Look who’s talking, State Trooper Plankitt.” He heard the smile in her voice.

They laughed quietly together.

“I mean it,” he told her. “You’ve been so strong, so even-keeled through all this.”

Her shoulder moved. A shrug. “I guess if I am, I owe that to how Dad raised me, huh?”

“Maybe,” he allowed. He doubted her calm, accepting spirit had anything to do with Gripper’s child rearing skills. It was just who she was. “Whatever the reason, I’m proud of you.”

She was quiet a long time. Then she lifted her face to his and searched out his mouth in the dark. She found what she was looking for and pressed her lips sweetly to his. “I want to thank you, Cole. You’ve been my rock.”

His head spun with her praise. His blood heated with the press of her body and her breath on his lips. “You’re welcome, honey.”

Her thumb brushed his cheek. “I’ve never been in bed with a guy before. It’s nice.”

“Yeah.”

“Warm.”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

“I want to kiss you again.”

“Kiss me any time you want, honey. Any time.”

She touched her lips to his again, and he made it easy, bending to her. Her mouth was so soft, so incredibly feminine. Her lips were mostly closed, but the way they brushed and nipped at his made his blood boil with need.

He ignored it and held himself still for her. He refused to devour her mouth the way he wanted to, told his hand not to roam lower than her waist.
Easy. Go easy with her.

There was a battle going on inside him. Desire versus restraint. If he let desire win, he ran the risk of traumatizing her.

She broke the kiss. “Is something wrong?”

Shit. She was picking up on his tension. “No, baby. That’s nice. You can do that some more if you want.”

Her thumb brushed his lower lip. “You’re stiff.” She snorted. “I mean, your body, not your, you know.”

“Dick,” he supplied.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t worry. That’s stiff too.”

“I’m flattered.”

He couldn’t help smiling at the wry humor in her voice. Glad she could at least talk about an erection. He wished he knew what else she could handle. And more importantly, what she couldn’t. The thought of doing something that would make her feel pressured tied his stomach in knots.

“You don’t have to lay like that.” She slid her hand down his back, around to his hip, and tugged him until they were pressed together from thigh to chest. If she’d wondered exactly what effect she had on him, she didn’t have to wonder any more. She’d feel him hard and hot against her lower abdomen.

She sucked in a breath. The hand on his hip curled into a fist.

“It’s not the boss of me,” he said. “I’m happy just holding you. You know that, right?”

Her fist relaxed. She swallowed hard. “I wouldn’t know it if you didn’t say it. I think that’s why it’s different with you.” Her voice was soft and musing, like she’d spoken aloud a realization that had just occurred to her. “I mean, I think things could be different with you. I hope.” The last was a whisper.

“Different how? If you want to talk about it.” He could use some pointers with her, but didn’t want to push if she was too tired to talk. He stroked her hair and waited.

She blew out a long breath. “The last guy I dated was Brian. We were together three months. He was great. He was nice to me. We had a lot in common: friends, things we liked to do. I thought,
Finally. This could be it. I can go all the way with him. He’s gorgeous and kind and—
”

“I get it. You liked him.” He cringed at how impatient he sounded.

She huffed. “Yeah. I liked him a lot. I liked holding hands with him. I liked kissing him.”

“You got a point, or you just trying to make me hate this Brian kid?”

“He wasn’t a kid.” She sounded more amused than defensive. “He was a grad student like me. He was passionate about his research and smart and he kissed like—”

“Say what you need to say, honey, and say it fast, because the thought of another guy’s mouth on you is like needles in my eye.”

She laughed. “Sorry. I don’t think I’ve ever had a guy jealous over me before. It’s pretty cool.”

“Mandy.”

“Okay, okay. Stop crushing me.”

He made himself relax his arms. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. He was getting all amped up instead of working his way toward the sleep he needed. “Sorry. Go on. I won’t interrupt again.”

She patted his chest then sighed. The air became heavy. “After three months, we were alone at his place. It felt like time to take things to the next level.”

His jaw went rigid, but he kept quiet, like he’d promised.

“It was just second base. That’s all. We were on his couch. He ran his hand up my ribs, and he touched my breast through my shirt. And I just…lost it. I felt his erection against my stomach, through his jeans. And then he touched me, and I was back there. He was a man about to take something from me I didn’t want to give, not the man I’d spent three months getting to know and laughing with and hoping for this moment with. I panicked. I made a complete idiot out of myself. It was so embarrassing. Poor Brian didn’t know what hit him.