Home for the Holidays (8 page)

“Are you looking for someone, gorgeous?”

Iris jumped as if she'd stuck her finger in an electrical outlet. Collier had come up behind her without making a sound. “You can't sneak up on me like that.”

Collier took her hand, tucking it into the bend of his elbow. “I'm sorry,
sweetie
,” he apologized in falsetto.

Iris couldn't help but laugh although the situation wasn't funny. If she'd had a weak heart there was no doubt she would've had an episode. However, Collier's ability to mimic her and others was uncanny. “Very funny, Mr. Mynah Bird.”

“Can mynah birds really mimic the human voice?”

“Yes, they can. I knew someone in Hawaii that had one, and I didn't believe it until I heard it for myself.”

She moved closer to Collier when she saw a group of rowdy boys coming in their direction, trading punches, and cursing one another.

Collier eased her closer to the storefronts lining Main Street as the boys sauntered down the sidewalk as if they owned it, three abreast. “They look like trouble,” Iris said in a quiet tone.

“They're probably kids from the mainland,” Collier replied. “If they're looking for trouble, then they've come to the wrong place tonight. I saw Jeff and one of his deputies with two kids who looked like they were high on something. They couldn't have come from here because everyone knows there's zero tolerance for any type of substance abuse on Cavanaugh Island.”

Iris shook her head. “If they get locked up, then somebody's mama or daddy is going to be real pissed tonight.”

“Word,” Collier drawled.

It was a Friday night, and all or most of the stores were open later than normal for holiday shopping; the business district was teeming with people intent on making purchases and those who were more than content to browse.

Two vehicles, with the capability of making snow, were parked on either side of the wide cobblestone street despite the
NO PARKING
signs. In less than twelve hours, Sanctuary Cove would resemble a winter wonderland landscape with sparkling Christmas lights and Hollywood-created fake snow. It'd been a while since Collier saw or felt snow, even of the fake variety, because it rarely snowed in the desert.

“Do you think they'll run out of tickets?” Iris asked when seeing the line outside the theater.

“It doesn't matter. I stopped and bought two tickets earlier.”

She smiled up at him. “I think I'm going to keep you.”

Collier lifted his eyebrows. “Were you thinking of leaving me?”

Iris fell silent. She didn't want to remind Collier that he would be the one leaving her, not the other way around. “No.”

He patted her hand. “Good.” Collier held open the door to the theater, handing their tickets to the usher. The aroma of freshly popped popcorn filled the lobby. “Do you want anything?”

“I'll have a small bag of popcorn.”

Collier rested a hand at the small of Iris's back as they neared the concession counter. “Why don't I get a small bucket, and then we can share it.”

“Sure.”

“Butter?”

Iris smiled. “Of course.” She stood off to the side to make room for others ordering candy, buffalo wings, hotdogs, crab cakes, popcorn, pizza, and soda. Ticket prices were discounted while the food at the concessions was slightly higher than comparable items sold in mainland movie theaters.

She watched as two women, wearing knitted hats and ski jackets over black leggings, practically jump Collier, holding him captive as he struggled to extricate himself. Iris shook her head. Even when she seduced him at Happy Hour, it'd been with words, not action.

“Oooh, Collier,” the shorter one squealed. “I heard you were back. How long are you staying?”

Collier drew back when she rested her hands on his cheeks. “Not long.”

“I heard you were in Iraq. It must have been awful for you.”

Iris contemplated whether she would have to rescue Collier, but he preempted her notion when he managed to free one of his arms and pointed in her direction. Smiling, she blew him an air-kiss; the crestfallen expressions on the faces of the women were priceless.

She recognized both women as Muffin Corner customers. “Hello, ladies.” One was a librarian and the other a teller at the local bank. Her facetiousness was lost on them when they returned her saccharine-sweet smile with friendly ones. Approaching Collier, Iris put her arm around his waist. “I'll help you carry something,
darling
.” The endearment prompted the women to move to the opposite end of the counter.

Collier kissed her ear. “You know gossip about us will be all over the island before the sun comes up tomorrow.”

“I don't care,” she said.

Lowering his head, Collier brushed a kiss over her parted lips. “And frankly, my dear, I, too, don't give a damn.”

Iris took delight in their brief shared moment, his pronouncement echoing what lay in her heart. She, too, didn't give a damn because she was falling in love with Collier Ward.

After the movie had finished, Collier and Iris left the theater, and instead of heading home, they sat in the town square along with a number of other couples. It was as if no one wanted to go home despite the hour and the mercury hovering around freezing. The lights, decorations, and pre-recorded traditional Christmas music flowing from speakers attached to poles proved infectious when several older couples in the square sang along as their voices blended harmoniously.

Iris and Collier applauded with the small crowd that had gathered to listen. They sang several more songs, including her favorite “O Holy Night,” took their bows amid thunderous applause, and left.

“Aren't you cold?” Iris asked Collier.

Everyone wore winter jackets while he'd forgone a jacket for a long sleeve tee and a ski sweater. “Nah. I'm used to desert temperatures going from over a hundred during the day to freezing at night.”

Iris huddled closer to his side. “I don't know about you, but I'm freezing.”

He stood up, extending his hand and bringing her up with him. “Come on, darling. I'll take you home and warm you up real nice.”

C
ollier unlocked the door, standing aside as Iris walked into the welcoming heat. “This is what I'm talking about,” she crooned. She'd turned on the heat because she loathed walking into a cold house. Living in the Lowcountry had spoiled her; she'd gotten used to not having to drive in snow or navigate ice and slush.

Turning, she smiled at Collier. “I'm going to brew some tea. Would you like a cup?”

“If it's not too much trouble, I prefer coffee.”

She took off her jacket and left it on a chair in the living room. “You can make the coffee, while I put on water for tea. I didn't see your car in the parking lot,” Iris said over her shoulder as she entered the bathroom.

“That's because I walked.”

She stuck her head out of the bathroom, watching as he moved around the kitchen. “Why did you walk?”

“I need the exercise,” Collier replied.

“I'll drive you back whenever you're ready to leave.”

He gave her a long stare. “What if I don't leave until tomorrow?”

Iris blinked. “That's not a problem. Don't forget I have to go in to work tomorrow. You can use my truck if you don't want to walk back.” Tracy lived about a half mile from the downtown business district.

“What time do you get off?”

“I'm only working until two because I want to go to the Winter Wonderland.”

Collier nodded. “If that's the case, I'll come back around four thirty and we can go together.”

“Sure. Can you please take out the container of cream for me while I wash this makeup off my face?”

Collier opened the refrigerator. “What's in the glass carafe, Iris?”

She stuck her head out the door again, her face covered with a layer of makeup remover. “That's rum punch. I made up a sample to see if I'm going to serve it for Christmas. My folks want to come back here for a Christmas Eve dinner, so I thought I'd serve the punch instead of wine. Pour yourself a glass and let me know what you think.”

“I hope you're not going to work yourself ragged at the Muffin Corner while planning a Christmas dinner.”

“This week coming up is the last week, and then I'm going back to my regular schedule.” Using cotton squares, Iris gently removed her makeup, then scrutinized her reflection in the mirror. How would owning part of her own business change her?

She'd spoken further with Evan about how she should draw up her business proposal with the owners of the Muffin Corner. Once completed, she gave a copy of it to Mabel to discuss with Lester. That had been more than three weeks ago, and they still hadn't gotten back to her. Iris knew she had to broach the subject but had decided to wait until after the holiday. Although she was paid well for working the extra hours, she couldn't help thinking how much better things would be if she worked for herself. She could set her own hours, and aside from the initial investment of installing an industrial kitchen and buying the supplies needed to run a bakery and the cost of utilities, her overhead would be negligible.

“Hey, babe! Did you taste this?” Collier called out.

She joined him in the kitchen. He held a glass of punch, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “No. Why?”

He handed her the glass. “Take a sip.”

Iris took a sip from his glass. “That's real good. It's also a little strong.”

Collier took down another glass from the cabinet, filled it with ice from the refrigerator's in-door feature, then added a liberal amount of punch. He touched his glass to hers. “Here's to wonderful days and glorious nights together.”

Iris's smile was as brittle as thin ice. What was he talking about? They had less than two weeks before whatever they had would end. “Copy that,” she whispered, using military jargon, then took a long swallow of the fruity concoction. The mixture of the rums and fruit juices went immediately to her brain, and she swayed slightly before righting herself.

Collier eased her fingers from around the glass, setting it on the countertop. “Easy there, baby.”

Resting her forehead on his chest, Iris felt like crying. It was hard to imagine going back to the loneliness before he'd gotten there. How could she have been so foolish to continue to see him when she knew if they did have a future together she would become her mother again—following her husband from base to base. And what about their children? Did she want to uproot them to live a vagabond lifestyle of moving to a new home every two or three years? Her entire body trembled when his hand searched under her sweater and covered her breast. They were so sensitive she couldn't help shivering.

“What's the matter, babe?” he asked.

“Just sensitive, I guess.”

He grunted deep in his throat. “Is that good or bad?”

Iris smiled. “Good.”

It was the last word she remembered before, coffee and tea forgotten, he swept her up in his arms and walked into the bedroom.

Iris had wanted this every night for the last two weeks. Collier had come to see her every night, she wanting him to make love to her, but he knew her increased work schedule was taking its toll. If he hadn't pressured her to go to the movies with him, she probably would've come home and gone to sleep. She needed a break from the routine or she would eventually burn out, and Collier admitted he cared too much for her to stand by and let that happen.

He took his time removing her clothes, then his own, and after slipping on protection, his hands were as busy as his mouth when he explored her trembling body, and when he couldn't hold back any longer, he eased his erection inside her, both sighing simultaneously. It was as if he had come home—this time to stay.

At that moment nothing mattered to Iris, not his imminent departure or that she'd fallen in love with Collier, only his comforting weight pressing her down to the mattress and increasing her fever-pitch desire for him. All she could do was surrender to her fiery climax.

A moan of ecstasy slipped through Iris's lips, and she couldn't disguise her body's reaction to Collier's hardness filling every inch of her. How could she have forgotten the passion, divine ecstasy, and erotic pleasure taking her beyond herself? She cried out, her heart filled with love and the anguish that her time with Collier was coming to an end as she climaxed. Seconds later Collier groaned out his own release as they lay together, savoring the intimate act that allowed them, for a few minutes, to be one instead of separate entities.

Completely sated, she fell asleep almost immediately, unaware when Collier slipped out of bed to discard the condom. She stirred slightly when he returned to the bed, pulling her against his body as they slept like nestled spoons.

Iris woke at five and managed to slip out of bed without waking Collier. He lay on his back, chest rising and falling in an even rhythm. She gathered a set of underwear, a T-shirt, socks, and jeans and left the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her.

She brushed her teeth, showered, and dressed in the bathroom, and when she walked out, she found Collier in the kitchen making breakfast. Droplets of moisture clung to his broad back, and she knew he'd showered in the miniscule shower stall in the family room.

Collier smiled at her. “Come sit down and eat.”

“You made breakfast.”

“You need breakfast,” he said, beckoning to her. “Come on, sweetie,” he urged when she didn't move. “It's only five twenty-five, so you have time to eat something.”

The scene was one she would remember for years: Collier standing barefoot in her kitchen wearing only a pair of jeans riding low on his slim hips. “Are you going to join me?”

He pulled out a chair at the dining area table. “Of course.”

Iris moaned under her breath when she took a bite of bananas Foster French toast. Slices of crisp slab bacon, orange juice, and coffee completed the surprise breakfast. “You're spoiling me, Collier.”

He smiled across the table at her. “You deserve to be spoiled. You're so busy pleasing other folks that you neglect yourself.”

“I take care of myself,” she said defensively.

“Really? You're working like a beast for Lester and Mabel.”

She stared at his stubble, thinking it should be illegal for a man to look that sexy so early in the morning. “That may change soon.”

Collier drained his glass of juice. “How?”

Iris told him about the proposition and the possible business agreement between her and her current employers. She didn't know what to expect, but it wasn't his stern-faced expression. “Why didn't you talk to me about this? I told you I'm a silent partner in Happy Hour.”

She ignored his accusatory tone. “Evan was giving me advice.”

“Your brother is a college professor.”

“My brother teaches
and
has a veterinarian practice.”

Leaning back in his chair, Collier stared down at his plate. “Forgive me for being presumptuous.”

“There's nothing to forgive, Collier. I really appreciate you looking out for me.”

He glanced up, and the tenderness in his eyes made her heart turn over. “As long as we're together, I'll always look out for you.”

Iris knew if she didn't get up from the table she would embarrass herself and start bawling like a baby. She cleaned her plate, gulped down the juice, and reached for the coffee cup, when Collier caught her wrist, holding it in a loose grip.

“Slow down, baby.”

She tried shaking off his hand, but he tightened his hold. “I have to leave now or I'm going to be late.” They engaged in a stare down, neither wanting to give in first. “Please let me go, Collier.” Seconds ticked by before he released her wrist.

Rounding the table, Iris stood behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck. His hair was growing out of the military-style cut. “Thank you for breakfast.”

He covered her hands with one of his. “You're welcome. I don't want you to think I'm trying to run your life.”

Iris kissed his hair. “It's okay, babe. I know you're trying to look out for me.”

Collier nodded. “That's because I care about what happens to you.”

She kissed him again. “I know that. I'll see you later.”

Collier felt as if he were losing Iris even before it was time for him to return to North Carolina. Their lovemaking wasn't the same as it'd been before she changed her work schedule. And he'd made a grievous mistake when chastising her for not informing him of Lester and Mabel's proposal, because for a nanosecond he thought he glimpsed a glint of fear in her eyes before it vanished. Had he reminded her of her ex who sought to control every aspect of her life? He prayed he hadn't.

His concern for Iris went beyond wanting the best for her. It was because he loved her, loved her enough to want their relationship to continue beyond the end of his leave. He needed her well physically and mentally because he was broken, and he'd need her love to help him to heal. He hadn't had more than three flashbacks since his return: the two he'd had the night he'd stayed over in Charleston and another a week following Thanksgiving. Fortunately he hadn't woken up screaming or he would've frightened Tracy and Layla. He'd fallen in love with Iris; she'd taught him it was okay to laugh, and like her, it was possible to overcome his demons to start life anew.

He left the table and crossed the room when she stood at the door. Pulling her close, he kissed her hair. “I'll clean up here, go home, and change, and then I'll be back around four.”

Tilting her chin, Iris offered him a hint of a smile. “Thank you.”

Collier watched Iris until she descended the staircase, then closed the door. The apartment was as quiet as a tomb, reminding him that it was the first time he'd been there alone. All of the furnishings reflected Iris's carefree, artistic personality, but without her presence they were as unappetizing to him as used newspaper in the bottom of a birdcage. She'd become his Christmas, Thanksgiving, and all of the festive holidays in a year. Somehow he had to conjure up the nerve to let her know that.

He was scheduled to return to Fort Bragg in less than ten days where he'd await his new assignment. And the base was close enough to Charleston where he could make the drive in about three hours. Coming home on weekends would allow him to spend time with his family and Iris. Collier knew if he continued to be with her there was the hope that they could possibly plan a future together.

Iris felt like a young child experiencing snow for the first time as she and Collier strolled hand in hand along the snow-covered sidewalk. Portable spotlights powered by generators lit up the entire business district as if it were the middle of the day. Even the weather seemed to cooperate with the faux wintery landscape with below-forty temperatures. Children riding in horse-drawn sleighs squealed at the top of their lungs when they saw their parents and friends standing on the sidewalks waving at them. The smell of roasting chestnuts lingered in the air along with freshly popped popcorn and grilling meats on charcoal-fired hibachi. Carolers, dressed in nineteenth-century costumes, stood in the town square as crowds joined them in song. Gasps went up from the assembly when the snow-making machine roared to life, spewing more fake snow and creating blizzard-like conditions.