Cole's Christmas Wish (18 page)

That meant...Andrew was not in Steamboat Springs. He’d already
returned to New York. But when had he returned? Earlier today, yesterday, last
week?

The buzzing in Cole’s brain got louder, stronger, even more
insistent. Andrew wasn’t with Rachel. Andrew wasn’t with Rachel. Oh, hell.

Andrew wasn’t with Rachel.

Chapter Twelve

A
fter putting the car in gear, Rachel eased
onto the road. Emotion roiled in her stomach, sending waves of nausea through
her body. Tightening her trembling fingers around the steering wheel, she
mentally straightened her spine and forced herself not to turn the car
around.

Not to run back to Cole with her heart in her hands.

God, she wanted to. The idea compelled her, pulled at her,
pleaded with her to take a freaking chance. But...she just couldn’t. Too scary,
for one thing. Way too damn scary.

And for another, this trip home was necessary. Her parents
really did need her.

Besides which, what good would staying in Steamboat Springs
serve, anyway? Nothing would change with Cole. He’d made that perfectly clear
last night, when he’d said, “What I can forgive my friends for is a fair bit
different than what I can forgive my potential wife for. I made a mistake
thinking otherwise.”

Those words, the tenor and cadence of his voice, the firm set
of his jaw and the determination all but gleaming in his eyes, refused to leave
her brain. Or her heart.

So, no. Staying wouldn’t serve to make anything better, or
easier. It would only make her feel worse—more wounded, more sad, more lonely,
more everything than she already felt right now. Easier—so much easier—to flee
from here, from Cole, and rebuild her strength before returning, before once
again embarking on another game of pretend: that she only thought of Cole as her
friend. Her freaking forever friend.

“Friendship isn’t so bad,” she whispered to herself. “He’s an
amazing friend.”

And he was. Somehow, though, his friendship—having only his
friendship—no matter how amazing, seemed akin to one of those consolation prizes
you won in a contest.

She yearned for the blue ribbon.

The twinkling Christmas lights lining the street blurred
beneath another unwanted layer of pouring tears. Today, all she seemed to do was
cry. She angrily wiped the wetness from her cheeks and tried to regain her
earlier businesslike attitude. She couldn’t. Not when she felt as if she had
lost...everything that meant anything.

Dammit all! She’d so wanted to spend Christmas here, in
Steamboat Springs, with Cole. She’d spent a childhood of Christmases here, after
all. With him. Those Christmases she wasn’t here had never felt right or
complete. Hadn’t even seemed real.

Okay, she was going home. To New York, where her parents
waited. Where she was needed. Except...well, New York wasn’t her home.
This—Steamboat Springs—was her home. Hadn’t she always known that, in some form
or fashion?

And then somehow, out of nowhere, the stupid vase Cole had
given her whipped into her mind, and the image of it sitting on her desk brought
about another rush of tears. Why had she left it there? She... No. She had to
have the vase with her. She couldn’t leave the gift Cole had bought her here,
when she was in New York.

How could she live without seeing it, holding it, every day?
Without having the physical reminder of his words, of how the color of the
flowers had reminded him—

Out of nowhere, a feeling of peace enveloped Rachel. It wasn’t
the vase she couldn’t live without—it was Cole. Love flowed through her as she
thought about Cole’s hug, the warmth and security of being in his arms, the way
he’d looked at her when he held her face in his hands.

Cole was her home. And he lived here, so yes, that was why
Steamboat Springs had always felt more her home than anywhere else she’d ever
lived, had ever traveled to.

Rachel breathed in deeply. Okay, what was she going to do with
these revelations? She needed a minute to think, to... She pulled into the first
gas station she came to and threw the car into Park. Closing her eyes, she
rested her forehead atop the steering wheel and took in another deep breath. She
couldn’t live without Cole.

The silly, silly man who’d created a girlfriend in order to
romance her and had never come clean with her. He’d had more than enough chances
to admit his lie, but he hadn’t. Not even after she’d finally found the courage
to discuss their past, her reasons for leaving...her mistake in not returning.
Of course, he...

Well, he likely thought she loved Andrew. She hadn’t told him
the truth about that, or that she’d figured out his game. Was she any
better?

Oh, Lord. She had to go back. She had to give him—them—one more
chance. How could she not? If she didn’t, would she one day find herself in the
same type of relationship as her parents? How close had she come to that with
Andrew?

The thought was startling.

Rachel squared her shoulders. For once, her parents would have
to wait. She’d always made them her top priority, running when they called,
listening to their venting, bending to their requests. All the while, she’d
never been able to help them. Not really.

Because they had to help themselves. That was their job, not
hers.

Dropping the car into Drive, knowing she really had no other
choice—not if she didn’t want to spend the next four years mired in regret—she
pulled back onto the road, heading in the opposite direction. Toward home.

Toward Cole.

And, she hoped, toward a future worth risking everything
for.

* * *

Cole strode to the office, where Haley was gathering her
belongings to leave. “Sorry, kid, but I’m going to need you to stay and close
tonight. Don’t argue, just nod and say yes.”

Nodding, Haley said, “Yes. But...why?”

“Rachel’s on her way to the airport, set on returning to New
York,” he said quickly, knowing his sister would understand his urgency. He
pulled on his coat and shoved his hands in his pockets, searching for his keys.
“I have to stop her before she gets on her plane.”

“Oh!” His sister squealed. “This is so romantic. It’s like one
of those movies where the guy chases the girl to the airport, but he gets there
just as the plane is taking off. He’s sad because he missed his great
opportunity to tell her—” Haley stopped. Stared at Cole and wrinkled her nose.
“Wait a minute. Why is she leaving so soon?”

“Long story.” Dammit all. Where had he put his keys?

“Did you do something to upset her?”

His gaze swung around the room. “Have you seen my keys?”

“Nope, can’t say that I have.” She gave him a quizzical look,
complete with squinty eyes and puckered lips. “Seriously, what did you do to
her?”

“Nothing! I...I’m not quite sure what’s happening, but
something is.” He shook his head, frustrated and anxious. “Help me find my keys.
Or give me yours. Please.”

Haley glanced over his shoulder, and her mouth split into a
wide grin. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

“Of course it’s necessary. I need keys to drive. I need to
drive to get to the airport. If I don’t—” He stopped. Breathed. And listened to
his senses.

Rachel. She was here. Right behind him. He knew that without
question, without any hesitation. The buzzing in his brain subsided, his muscles
relaxed and he inhaled a long, cleansing breath of relief. Everything might just
be okay, after all.

“Welcome back, sweetheart,” he said without turning around.

“It was the vase,” Rachel said to Cole’s back in thick, halting
syllables. “That silly little squat vase you had to go and buy for me. That’s
why I’m here.”

Facing her now, Cole nodded as if her words made perfect sense.
They didn’t. He couldn’t care less what had brought her back. The fact was that
she was here, right now, with him. And that meant he hadn’t lost his chance.

Still, he went with it, saying, “I like the vase, Rach. I
thought of you the second I saw it.”

“Yes,” she said in a whisper, looking far too serious and
confused for his liking. “You...ah...mentioned that. But I’m here for... We need
to—”

“Did I mention how the color of the flowers—the ones painted
along the bottom—are the exact same shade of blue as your eyes?”

Her chin dipped in a slow, jerky nod, but a curious glint
entered her gaze. Better. “Yes. You mentioned that, as well.”

“Good. I thought I had,” he said, slowing his cadence to a
drawl. “I should also mention that your eyes tend to change colors based on your
emotions.”

One eyebrow arched. “You should mention that, huh?” she asked,
no longer sounding weak or hesitant. In fact, she sounded downright spunky.
Better yet. “Now?”

“Hmm. Yes.” Cole took a step toward her. Stared into the eyes
he loved so much. “See, right now, I wouldn’t be able to say the color is an
exact match to those flowers. Right now, your eyes are a good bit darker than
normal. So, Rach, I have to ask—” he rubbed the pad of his thumb over the soft,
fragile area beneath her eyes “—what are you feeling at this very second?”

Blink, blink, blink. “Really, Cole? That’s what you want to
know?”

“I do,” he said matter-of-factly. “And that’s a fact.”

Suddenly, those eyes darkened another shade. “I see. A fact,
huh? You know a lot about facts, don’t you? Meaning, you have no issues
determining fact from fiction, correct?”

“Fiction as in novels, darlin’?”

“Fiction as in games of pretend,” she shot back. “Such as,
oh...I don’t know...make-believe friends. Or, in your case, girlfriends? Or at
least, girl
friend?
Are you familiar with that
concept, Cole?”

Her words shocked him. She knew? Well, hell. “Um.”

She tapped her foot. “Um?”

Probably, he should beg for forgiveness. Later, he probably
would. Right now, though, he decided to play this moment out for all of its
worth. “Well, pretend girlfriends have a lot going for them, Rach. They don’t
chatter incessantly, or expect you to give up your night out with the guys.” He
ran his hand over his jaw, grinned. “Yeah. Fact is, I can see lots of reasons
why a man might think a pretend girlfriend is better than a real one.”

Her chin lifted an inch. “You, Cole Foster, are an idiot.
Why—”

“Right, I am. A man in love often behaves idiotically,” he
said, grinning wider when her jaw snapped shut.

She regained her bearing fast. “Only an idiot, whether he’s in
love or not, would think creating a pretend girlfriend is the way to...romance
another woman. Because yeah, that is so much better than being open and honest
and—oh, I don’t know—communicating!”

“You’re absolutely right. Communicating would have been the
better choice. But I’m curious, darlin’. How long have you known? Because I
don’t recall any discussion of that sort.”

He winked. Waited. His mind replayed the last several days.
She’d known for a while, he’d bet money on it. And she’d used that knowledge to
turn his game on him.

It was, he decided, rather humorous.

Though she didn’t appear amused. Tapping her foot harder, she
glowered. “How long have I known that I’m Mary, otherwise known as Cupcake—which
is, by the way, a ludicrous name to call a woman, even a pretend woman—and that
you’ve been messing with my head—not to mention my heart—ever since I arrived in
Steamboat Springs?” Retreating a step, she angled her arms over her chest. “Is
that what you mean?”

Nope, not amused. This was not the same woman who’d walked in
here. Well, she was here, and he’d take her—any which way or the other—but this
woman was really annoyed with him. And hell, he couldn’t blame her. He’d started
the fiasco.

It was such an old cliché, but she was beautiful when she was
angry. And frankly, while he’d prefer her happy, her shooting nails—even if they
were aimed at his head—was better than confused. “Yes, darlin’, that’s exactly
what I mean.”

“Why, you—” Pausing, she bit her bottom lip. “What if I told
you that I discovered this little fact the day after Andrew and I went our
separate ways and he returned to New York?”

“I already figured out that Andrew left,” he said lightly. In
truth, he was as happy as all get-out to hear confirmation. “I just don’t know
when he left. Mind filling in the blank spots for me?”

She looked at him, blinked—he was really going to have to ask
her if she needed glasses—and darn if her lips didn’t twitch, just a little.
Okay, anger was giving way to...well, he didn’t know what, but he had a feeling
they were headed down a path he wanted to be on.

Had waited for years to be on.

“Hmm. Let me see,” she said, her voice just this side of husky.
“It might have been...no, it wasn’t that day.” She paused, her lips twitched a
bit more. “No wait, gee, it wasn’t that day, either. Gosh, Cole,” she said in an
oh-so-innocent manner, “I simply just don’t remember.”

“Tell me when Andrew left, and I’ll...give you a present,” he
cajoled with a teasing grin. Why he cared so much, he didn’t know. But he had to
know. “I have ten of them at home with your name on it.”

She arched a brow. “My name or Mary’s name? Or did you use
‘Cupcake’?”

“Your name.” Cole put his hand on his heart. “Honest. Only
yours.”

Those words softened her mouth and brought a glimmer of
satisfaction to her smile. “Andrew left last Sunday morning. We... I realized he
wasn’t the man for me on Saturday. Realized, also, that I’d known that for quite
a while.”

A week. The man hadn’t been in the picture at all for nearly a
full week. The realization was both exhilarating and excruciating. Particularly
when Cole imagined what might have happened in the dressing room if he’d known
she’d chosen that gown with him in mind.

Him. Not Andrew.

And that meant, “So, you figured out what I was up to the day
we went snow-tubing?”

“Um. I began to suspect.” She darted a glance toward Haley. “I
didn’t really know until the next day, and that’s when I planned my revenge.
I’ll admit I had a lot of fun with that.”

Haley cleared her throat. “This is all so...weirdly sweet and
cute, but it’s time to close the store. I’ll...ah...go do that, and you two
do...whatever it is you’re doing.”