All I Want For Christmas: Holiday Romance Read online

  “Salted caramel. It’s the only way to drink a latte.”

  She released a chortle. “I’m sorry, but you are so not what I expected. How in the world did you end up being a department store Santa? No offense, but you don’t seem the...type.”

  “Believe me, not being compared to Santa isn’t in any way offensive. One-night-only kind of thing. Just filling in for my friend who wanted to be with his family on Christmas Eve.”

  “Oh.” Can we say endearing? He took a sip from his mug, and she asked, “What do you do when you’re not filling in as fake Santa?”

  “I’m a general contractor.”

  General contractor. That meant he was one of those guys who could build and fix anything. And he was used to being in charge. Not to mention, being a construction worker, he probably had very toned arms and abs as a natural result of the manual labor. Saylor was dazed by his attention. Her curious thoughts wandered for so long he raised his eyebrows.

  She cleared her throat again. “So you spend Christmas Eve at the mall? No plans tonight?”

  “Just The Cocoa Bean. So far,” he added, gesturing toward the bar.

  “So far?”

  He took another sip. “I only came because I saw you. It was impulsive, I know, but if you headed over to Pretzelmaker, I probably would have followed you there.”

  “Ah, so you’re Santa and a stalker.”

  “Only when a beautiful woman pulls me aside like you did. You made the first move.”

  Saylor held back a snort. “I made the first move?”

  “You hopped a fence just to talk to me.”

  “Yes, my son’s worries were just a deceptive ploy to get close to you.”

  He went on with a casual shrug. “I didn’t have time to talk to you as much as I wanted to when you left.”

  No, because he was changing out of a Santa suit. Again, she refused to allow her thoughts to stray.

  “And have you had your fill of talking to me now?” She was rooted in place, captivated by this turn in their conversation, by this turn of events, period. Never in a million years would she have guessed she'd meet someone tonight.

  His eyes burned into her. He sipped before answering. “Not even close. That sounded even more stalker-ish, didn’t it?” He grinned. The phone beside him buzzed, and he gave it a casual glance. "I promise, I'm not one," he added.

  An awkward silence stretched between them while Saylor thought of a reply. She sipped her gradually cooling steamer, enjoying the rich mixture of white chocolate and crisp mint.

  “Honestly, I’m not sure I’d mind if you were," she told him. "I appreciate the company tonight.”

  He sniggered. “You wouldn’t mind if I was a stalker?”

  “Of course, I don’t mean that! I’m just saying...” Saylor trailed off, dipping her chin down as she realized how pitiful she was sounding. She was saying, what? She was lonely? Pathetic?

  He kicked his feet out and leaned back in his seat. “Do you work?”

  She nodded. “I’m a customer service rep for a technology company called Drex Corp.”

  “Sounds very professional. What exactly is it that you do?”

  She hadn’t asked him anything further about his work and made a mental note to remedy that. “We set up websites and email marketing for businesses, along with things like logo design, branding, that kind of thing.”

  “Customer service. So when people are unhappy, you’re the one they call.”

  She took another sip, getting to the bottom of her cup. “They’re not always unhappy. Sometimes they just need help.”

  He tipped his cup all the way back as well. “Sounds like you’re good with computers.”

  She fidgeted. "Something like that.” She decided not to mention her degree in computer programming from Twin Falls’ very own CSI. Not Crime Scene Investigation. College of Southern Idaho.

  Cole eyed his phone once more, then slid to the edge of his seat and rested a hand on the table. He pierced her with those blue eyes. “Drex Corporation, you said? Isn’t that off of Pole Line, by the hospital?”

  “You’re quick,” she said, impressed.

  “Contractor, remember? Do you have a last name, Saylor?”

  She pressed a hand across her stomach, trying to slow her pulse. “You mean you don't know what it is?"

  He smiled. "Sadly, no."

  “That settles it,” she said.

  “Settles what?”

  “A stalker would already know my last name.”

  He laughed. “So I’m officially off the hook?”

  “That you are.” She smiled back, unable to help it. “It’s Bates.”

  “Saylor Bates.” He offered a hand. “Cole Osteen.”

  Heart tense with anticipation, she tallied every nanosecond until her palm grazed across his warm skin. She inhaled at his callouses, at how good the tender touch felt.

  Cole’s fingers closed around hers. Not in a formal, rapid shake, but a welcome hold. His gaze was warm, swallowing her whole. He didn’t seem to care about any of the other patrons sitting nearby, or anything else but her, until his phone buzzed again.

  He frowned at it, releasing her hand.

  “Are you sure you don’t have anywhere else you needed to be tonight?” she asked, gesturing to the device and taking a steadying breath. The imprint of his hand lingered in her palm. “No other Santa stops? No reindeer waiting for you on the rooftop?”

  For some reason, she was self-conscious. He clearly had another obligation, one he was ignoring to keep talking to her. But why? What could he possibly see in her that was worth ignoring someone else who obviously wanted his attention?

  She waited with prickles of fear and hope pinging across her skin.

  He frowned, still staring down at his phone. “Actually, do you mind if I take this call? I’ll just be a minute.”

  The words stung, though she couldn’t explain why. “Not at all.”

  He stood. She rose as well, her chin reaching the height of his shoulders.

  “Just one minute,” he said, taking the jacket slung across the back of the chair and leaving her at the table.

  Expectation fluttered, heating her blood and making her palms sweat. She hadn’t been in this position in ten years, at least. Meeting someone new, feeling a spark of interest from him that mirrored her own. The excitement of a new relationship on the cusp of existence. She both dreaded it and longed for it at once.

  From where she stood, Saylor had a clear view of the main hall between shops. She watched Cole slip his arms into the jacket and walk away, joining the crowds toward the exit. Each of his steps escalated her pulse, until he headed outside, into the whirling snow.

  An epic sense of let-down made her shoulders slump.

  That settled it. He was no different from David. No different from the first boy she’d dated back in high school, either. What was it about men who knew the exact moment her hopes were at their highest? It was like they knew precisely when to ditch out in order to do the most damage.

  Saylor considered waiting for him—he did say he would be right back. But if that was the case, why did he leave the mall just to take a phone call?

  She knew exactly why.

  Her heart had been wounded enough. Her throat closed. She couldn’t believe she’d fallen for it again. Mortified, she slipped into her own coat, tossed her steamer into the garbage, and buried her face into her collar before heading toward the exit at the mall’s opposite end.

  Chapter Four

  Cole tried to ignore the name on his screen, but it was one he hadn’t seen in so long he couldn’t help being distracted by it. Still, he pushed the phone aside, keeping his attention on Saylor.

  Until it buzzed again.

  And again.

  Brooke. What was she doing calling him at all, let alone tonight? They hadn’t spoken since the divorce was finalized over a year ago. In fact, he hadn’t even seen her since then, and so much the better.

  Cole snuck out into the ca
cophony of the emptying mall, donning his jacket before heading out into the wintry night. This was a conversation he wanted exactly no one to overhear.

  The brisk wind whipped his cheeks. He turned up his collar against it, tucked into the alcove beside the mall entrance, and answered the fourth call Brooke had made in the last ten minutes.

  “Hello?”

  “You are there.” Her voice was far too enthusiastic. “For a minute, I thought you were ignoring me.” She cackled as though the concept was unthinkable.

  “I was.”

  “Come on, aren’t you the least bit curious why I’m calling?”

  He had to give her that much. After their ardent and hasty dating period, he and Brooke had rushed into matrimony before finding out what they were really getting themselves into. It had been clear enough the passion was there, but other issues had quickly doused that fire.

  Brooke had been controlling and unappreciative. She’d begun to nag him for insignificant things, like replacing the toilet paper roll with the sheets pointed in the wrong direction, or loading utensils in the dishwasher with the handles sticking out instead of the prongs and spoon. Cole had done his best to change, to please her, but it had never been enough. Soon her dissatisfaction had turned to insults.

  It had been the final straw for him—for them both—when she’d revealed her refusal to have children. This refusal hadn’t been a wishy washy, ho hum uncertainty about kids. It had been a fervent, condescending denial.

  “Do you know what that will do to my body?” she’d exclaimed. “Not to mention my social life.”

  Cole had realized it would never work. In that moment, he’d grasped the sole, underlying problem at the heart of all of their disagreements.

  The word my.

  Everything was always about her. Her life. Her body. Her way. Never theirs.

  After all Cole had done and changed about himself and the way he did things to try and please her, she couldn’t—wouldn’t—do the same for him. And he’d always wanted kids.

  Brooke had agreed all too readily at his mention of divorce, and the papers had been signed before the year was out.

  Cole peered back at the couple exiting the mall, part of him praying it was Saylor searching for him. He couldn’t shake how rapidly her sad expression in The Cocoa Bean had transformed into delight when she’d realized who he was. He left what was becoming a gripping conversation with her for this?

  “What do you want, Brooke?”

  “I was just thinking of you. I always think of you on Christmas Eve.”

  Cole clenched his fists. “You’re kidding, right?” Their last argument about children had taken place on Christmas Eve exactly two years ago. Either she didn’t remember, or she didn’t care.

  Probably the latter.

  “You remember what happened, right?”

  “Yeah, I do, and I can’t help wondering if things could be different between us. Don’t you?”

  “Not at all,” he lied.

  The truth was, part of him missed her. He missed the Brooke he’d fallen in love with, the fun-loving Brooke, the amicable one who rolled with the punches, who was sweet and had adored him in return.

  “Well, I do,” she said, unruffled. “And I was just wondering, if you’re not busy tomorrow—”

  His chest compressed. He didn’t want this. He should hang up. Right now.

  “—if I could come and—”

  He lowered the phone. His mind scraped for an excuse.

  “—see my cat.”

  Cole blinked, waking from some kind of retrospective daze. He’d thought the reason for her incessant calling had been an emergency. She needed help. She was in the hospital. She needed money. He couldn’t figure out any other reason why she would keep calling over and over in a few minutes’ time. But this was why she called him?

  “Your cat? You made it clear you didn’t want him. I couldn’t just toss him out into the street. He’s mine.”

  Too late, he realized he should have lied about this too. Told her Bubba Jones died.

  “That doesn’t mean I don’t miss him during the holidays. And you, too,” she added.

  Cole rubbed the incredulity from his forehead. He’d heard about enough, and worse, he’d left Saylor for far too long. For this. This pointless conversation.

  “I’ve got to go. Merry Christmas.”

  “Wait, don’t—”

  “Goodbye, Brooke.” He ended the call, hoping she got the hint about the magnitude of his goodbye. Cole rushed back toward the blackened mall doors, but the handles didn’t give. He jerked a few more times, dread sinking in. Cupping his hands on the glass, he leaned close for a better look.

  He wasn’t on the phone that long. Yet, security guards paced just inside, and the parking lot was emptier than when he’d first stepped out. When had they locked the doors? Or had they already been locked when he’d stepped out?

  Cole tossed his head to the sky with a groan. Saylor. He walked out on Saylor, and now it was too late to find her again.

  Chapter Five

  “I must have seemed so desperate,” Saylor said to the empty car while her breath fogged the windshield. “The call was probably from a girlfriend. A man that good-looking can’t not have a girlfriend.”

  He did ask for her last name, but that wasn’t much to go on, especially since she was in no phone book she knew of. He’d left it on friendly terms, nothing more. She knew it—she should have known not to let herself hope.

  Then again, he did leave it open, asking what she wanted for Christmas. Even if he stayed, she wasn’t sure what she would have said. Telling a total stranger she wanted someone to love her was completely off-putting, no matter how someone looked at it.

  She considered driving out to her mom’s tonight, but it took a few moments to remember her parents weren’t in town. So she decided to go home instead.

  Her house was too quiet. Saylor avoided Parker’s room and headed straight to her own. Pent up frustration built, and she ripped off her new dress, kicked out of her leggings and stood in the shower longer than usual, letting the hot water slowly fade to lukewarm.

  After she dressed in her favorite flannel pajamas, she stared at their pathetic little tree with its single present underneath.

  “I know how you feel, tree,” she told it, thinking of how just hours before several more presents had crowded beneath its branches. It looked so lonesome now.

  With a sigh, she bent and lifted her present, settling herself on the couch. She hugged the soft package, sinking back and turning on White Christmas.

  While Bing Crosby sang, she opened the red wrapping, not bothering to wait until the morning. Having bought it for herself, it wasn’t like it would be a big surprise.

  “It’s cold anyway,” she told herself, removing the leopard-striped Snuggie within. She stroked the soft fabric, a small amount of happiness dripping in at the sight. Others might think it was silly, but she’d always wanted one of these. A blanket she could wear? Yes, please.

  She laced her arms through the sleeves and wrapped it around her. Gradually, her body heat warmed the fabric, and she sank back, ready to lose herself in the old movie, when her phone chimed.

  It was late for him to be calling, but she wasn’t about to complain. Saylor leapt from the couch and rushed to answer. Parker’s little face filled the entire screen.

  “Hey, Parks,” she said, not having to force the excitement.

  “Mom! You won’t believe this place. This cabin is huge. Our whole house could fit in here. They have a big flat screen, and an Xbox, and you won’t believe their tree. Here, look!” He turned the phone to display a beautiful tree, taller than the one at Cole’s North Pole in the mall. The thing cascaded upward, decorated with large baubles in all kinds of colors and topped with the sparkly mesh Saylor had seen in stores but never wanted to take the time to figure out how to use.

  “That’s amazing,” she said, trying to ignore the pinching sensation in her chest.

&n
bsp; “And look.” Jagged images told her he was in motion, the ceiling blurring in the background. He whipped his phone around to show her a stunning fireplace, brick along its sides and complete with a tile mosaic above, along with a gluttonous amount of silver, glittering décor on the mantel that would do Pottery Barn proud. “A chimney!”

  Saylor couldn’t help her smile. “Perfect. See, Santa will know right where to find you.”

  “It’s a good thing you told him not to forget,” said Parker.

  David’s voice filtered through in the background. Parker’s attention was stolen for a moment, until he flipped the phone toward his dad, giving Saylor a good shot of the surrounding company. An older man and woman stood with wine glasses in hand around a granite counter-top, and then there was David, one arm around Amanda’s tiny waist.

  Saylor pressed her eyes closed. Why did she ever think a phone was a good idea? This is about Parker, she told herself.

  “Yeah-huh, Mom met Santa tonight and told him right where to find us,” Parker said, replying to one of them.

  Laughter ricocheted in the background, slapping her pride. Somehow, her Snuggie lost its heat. Tears threatened, but she stared upward, willing them away.

  “Hey, Parks, I’ve got to go,” she said. “You have a fun time, okay?”

  He grinned at her, looking at the phone once more. “Okay. Bye, Mom!”

  Saylor made sure to smile long enough for him to see before the screen went black. Then she sagged and shut the movie off.

  “On that note,” she mumbled, staring straight ahead. The wood-burning stove and TV stared back. “Might as well go to sleep.”

  She shuffled toward her room, determined not to let this ruin her night. This was how things were now, and the sooner she accepted not having someone, the better she would be. It wouldn’t do her any good to wallow.

  Except, that was the thing with being completely alone. Thoughts tended to take over whether she wanted them to or not.

  Saylor prepared for bed, thinking the whole time all the reasons why marriage wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Not with David, anyway, which was one reason she supposed it hadn’t panned out for them. She missed him fixing her car, though. And changing the oil for her. She missed him helping to make pancakes and eggs.