The Wishing Season (19 page)

“Wanna get away?” she teased.

“Please. Save me. Where you going?”

“Out. Want to come?”

“Yes.”

PJ tucked her chin into her scarf as she and Cole brushed snow from the windshield. The car gave a reluctant start, and PJ pulled from the curb.

Cole leaned against the headrest. “When does school start again?”

“You sound like a harried mother.”

“I feel like a harried mother. It’s not even Christmas yet. Where we going?”

PJ thought a moment. “Ice skating,” she decided.

He rolled his head toward her. “Take me back.”

She laughed. “Don’t you like to skate?”

“I’ve never been. Hence my request.”

“You’re going to love it. Guys are naturals with their strong ankles. You’ll be whizzing past me in minutes.”

Twenty minutes later, PJ slipped her feet into the skates and started on the laces. The square was quiet this afternoon, only a few teenagers circling the frozen pond. The layer of snow had been brushed away, leaving a smooth, glassy surface.

Once PJ had laced up, she stood, replacing her gloves, and surveyed the landscape. Pine trees, their branches half covered in snow, towered nearby, and skeletal oak branches clicked together overhead. Multicolored lights twinkled dimly in the daylight, and the strains of “Santa Baby” floated from nearby speakers.

She took a deep breath of the crisp air. “It feels so good to be out. Doesn’t this air feel great?”

“It’s freezing.”

“It’s practically forty degrees.”

Cole tied his skate. “If by ‘practically’ you mean minus ten degrees.”

She grinned at him and gave him a hand up. “Come on, Half-empty, it’s time to introduce you to ice skating.”

They shuffled to the edge of the rink and took tentative steps onto the ice. Once both feet were planted, Cole pushed off, arms out and waving for balance. He pushed off again, mimicking PJ’s
motions. She’d spent a lot of winter nights circling this rink, usually with her siblings.

Cole was doing pretty well. He was still upright and moving forward, albeit a little shakily.

PJ turned gracefully and skated backward.

He scowled playfully at her.

“What? You’re doing great. See, it’s not so—”

His feet got tangled and he pitched forward, arms out.

PJ reached for him, and their skates shuffled. He was heavy on her arms. Her back worked hard to support his weight. Finally their feet shuffled to a stop, and a giggle worked its way into her throat.

His lips twitched.

One of her hands grasped his forearm, and the other was wrapped around his waist. His muscular thigh pressed against hers. Something fluttered in her belly.

“You have a great smile,” he said.

She looked up and got caught in his green eyes, her smile falling away.

His breath fogged between them as his eyes fastened on hers.

“Thanks.”

Step away from the hottie, PJ.

She backed up, shaking off the moment.

“You should’ve let me fall,” he said. “I could’ve hurt you.”

“Not on my watch, big guy.” She turned, pushing off. “Ready to race?” she called over her shoulder.

“Funny.”

Cole watched PJ sail away as if she weren’t moving on two narrow metal blades. How did people even do this? She did a fancy twirl, her scarf flying around in a circle. It was good to see her happy. She’d been so busy the past month, and he knew she’d been worried her ex-boyfriend would interrupt her life again. Cole had made it a point to stay close by during restaurant hours. Just the thought of what he’d done to PJ made him want to lay the guy out flat.

She made a U-turn and came up beside him just in time for him to wobble like an elephant on stilts. He threw out his arms, and PJ grabbed on.

“I thought you said I’d be a natural,” he said once he had his balance again.

PJ let loose of him. “You’re doing great. The Olympics will be back around before you know it. I think you have a shot at speed skating.”

He gave her a sour look, but really he was checking her out and remembering what it felt like to have her arms around him as he’d slipped. Dignity notwithstanding, it was enough to make a man consider faking a fall.

“I’m going to take another turn around the rink,” she said. And then she was off, the ends of her scarf flying behind her, before he could make good on his nefarious plan to get her back in his arms.

An hour later they took a booth at Cappy’s Pizzeria, having worked up an appetite and not ready to return to the house. Colorful
Christmas bulbs dangled from the ceiling on shiny ribbons, and a silver Christmas tree huddled in the corner. The overhead pendants shed a soft light over Cole’s handsome features. He had bits of snow in his hair, and her fingers twitched to brush them away.

“This is more like it,” Cole said. “Stationary booths, warm environment, soft surfaces.”

“Stop it. You did good.”

“Then explain why my rear end’s soaking wet.”

PJ handed him a menu, lifting a brow. “Sounds like a personal problem to me.”

A few minutes later the server took their order. Finally warm, PJ pulled off her coat and scarf, pushing them to the corner of the red vinyl booth. A nearby TV played a preview of tonight’s bowl game, and a loud crack sounded from the poolroom as someone broke the balls.

“Sorry the kids have been kind of rowdy lately. They’re stircrazy, I guess. Plus the holidays can be hard when you don’t have family.”

She’d invited them to her family’s house tomorrow, but Cole was spending the day at the house with the kids. It would give them a chance to bond. At least that’s what he’d said. She wondered now if it was something more.

“What did you do before this year?” she asked.

“It varied. Sometimes I’d go to my foster parents’ house, or someone from church would have me over. The holidays aren’t that big a deal to me anymore.”

PJ watched him sip his Coke and wondered if that were really true or just what he told himself.

“I’ve been out of foster care for nine years. I’m just used to it, I guess.”

PJ did the math. “I thought you were twenty-six.”

“Twenty-seven. Had a birthday.”

“When?”

“Just before Thanksgiving, November 23.”

About the time Josh had hit her car. She wondered if he’d even told the kids. She hadn’t heard anything about a cake or a party.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

He shrugged. “I guess birthdays aren’t that big a deal either.”

They were in her family. Even now that the kids were grown, the day still called for a party, cake, presents. She thought of Cole alone in his attic room while his birthday ticked away, and she felt the sting of guilt.

The server arrived, setting down an order of breadsticks. The aroma of garlic and yeast filled the air between them.

“I’m so hungry.” Cole started on a breadstick.

PJ poured some cheese on her plate, her thoughts heavy. She’d known Cole over six months and still knew so little about him. She thought of what her mom said about his past. One thing about baggage, it was lighter when someone shared the load.

“I hope you don’t mind my asking . . . You told me about your mom’s accident, but what about the rest of your family?”

He swallowed and took a drink of Coke. “They all died in the same accident.”

“All of them . . . ?”

“Mom, Dad, and my little sister, Noelle.”

PJ’s heart clamped tight. His whole family, gone in a moment. How would it feel to be the lone survivor?

“I’m so sorry. How old were you?”

“Twelve.”

Her heart broke for the little boy who must’ve woken alone to the news that his family was gone.

“It was a long time ago.”

“You didn’t have grandparents? Aunts or uncles?”

He took another breadstick. “Mom’s family disowned her when she married my dad, and he was an only child. His parents were older when they had him, and they died when I was little.”

“So they just . . . carted you off to some foster home?”

The corner of his lip turned up. “They were good people. Looking back, I see they had their hands full with two young kids and a sulky preteen, but they always had time for me.”

Sulky preteen? He’d lost everything and been shoved into another family.

“So they basically raised you?”

“I was only there for about a year. His work transferred him out of state.”

“And just like that you had to go somewhere else?”

“Something like that. But I don’t have any regrets. Greg and Becky were great, and that’s where I met Lizzy.”

Lizzy. The girl he’d been on the phone with. The one he’d told he loved.

She took a sip of her water. “Lizzy?”

“Another foster kid at the same house.”

“She’s your . . . girlfriend?”

“What? No, she’s nine years younger than me. She’s like a little sister.”

“Oh.” Why did the knot in her stomach suddenly release?

“She’s the one I’m holding a spot for at the house. She turns
eighteen in April.” He cleared his throat. “So tell me about your childhood. What was it like growing up here? There are four McKinley kids?”

She set her breadstick down and folded her hands on the table. “Well, plus Michael, the twin who died. And Ryan’s friend Daniel Dawson was practically a sibling, he was around so much. He was our honorary brother—so I get what you mean about Lizzy.”

“Didn’t he marry your sister?”

“Right, Jade, last December.”

Cole arched a brow. “I guess he wasn’t everyone’s honorary brother.”

“Guess not. They’re really good together though.”

“Your family is close.”

“Yeah. It gets a little hectic, but in a good way, you know?”

“And you’re the baby?”

“Ugh. Yes.”

“Why ugh? I always thought my little sister had it easy. I doted on her, and my parents babied her. They were so much easier on her than they were on me.”

“You sound like Ryan. But the baby has everyone stepping in to do everything for her. It has a way of making you feel incapable. And in case you miss the subtlety of the message, they’re more than willing to verbalize it, always second-guessing your decisions or making backup plans for when you fail. I mean, I love them dearly, but they seriously don’t think I can breathe without them.”

He leaned forward, planting his hands inches from hers. “And sometimes you wonder if they’re right.”

PJ’s lips parted. Then she pressed her lips together and lengthened her spine.

“It’s not true,” he said. “But sometimes you believe it anyway.”

His gaze was direct, intense, like he could see down inside where no one else bothered to look. She wasn’t sure she wanted him down there digging through all her stuff. But then, he already knew the worst of it.

“How’d you know?” she asked.

He lifted his pinkie and skimmed the side of her hand. “You’re one of the most capable people I know.”

“They didn’t even think I’d make it through culinary school.”

“But you did.”

“Every weekend I’d come home, and there’d be this subtexting in their questions. Like they thought I’d lose interest and move on to something else or fail my classes and have to drop out. I think they’re still stunned I actually graduated.”

“Then they must really be surprised you’re making a go of your restaurant.”

She snorted. He hadn’t seen her checkbook balance. Maybe December had been okay, but November had been the pits, and she wasn’t expecting the next couple months to be any better.

“Don’t discount yourself like that. You opened your own restaurant right out of culinary school. You know what kind of guts that takes?”

“Guts or stupidity? Because I’m thinking my family sees it as the latter.”

“Then why were they always over there helping you with the renovation?”

“Oh, they’re really helpful, don’t get me wrong. And I feel like a complete jerk for complaining about my family when . . .”

“Don’t. My problems don’t negate yours. So they’re not supportive of your restaurant?”

“It’s not that exactly. It’s just from the beginning it was, ‘Don’t get your hopes up, PJ.’ ‘This is an awful lot you’re taking on, PJ.’ ‘There’s an opening at Burger Barn, in case this doesn’t work out, PJ.’ ”