All I Want For Christmas: Holiday Romance Page 7

  In seconds, Cole hurdled himself over the fence, landing knee deep in snow and earning an admiring, “Whoa!” from Parker.

  It was Saylor’s turn to blink at him. A move like that took dexterity and muscle, both of which she found herself equally eager to see.

  Cole brushed snow from his jeans. “I’m afraid I’m not dressed very appropriately for this.”

  It was true. He wore the same thin jacket he’d worn the night she’d met him. No hat, no boots, and just a thin pair of gloves. It was a good look for him, though, and the snow settled well on his dark hair. She supposed she could have given him some warning, but none of this was really planned until about an hour ago.

  “Move around more,” said Parker, staring up at him. “Moving keeps you warm.”

  “True,” said Cole, plodding over to the mound she and Parker had been building earlier. “Is this your fort?”

  Parker dusted snow off his black mittens. “Yeah, but it’s not a very good one.”

  Cole crouched to inspect the structure. This was his area of expertise, after all. He patted a hand along the snowy turrets. The one on the end crumbled into a sad heap. He gestured to Parker with his chin. “I bet we can do better. Come on.”

  Chapter Ten

  “You realize you’re helping us beat you,” Saylor said, folding her arms and crossing to the small, pathetic fort she’d built. “I mean, look what you’ve got to work with.”

  Cole flashed that smile at her, the one that severed any and all access to her brain and left her just nerves and pulses. They stared for several seconds, eyes locked. The cold air nipped at her cheeks and neck, while snowflakes spilled down around her. Though her face, hands, and toes were beginning to icicle over, sweat beaded down her back. Her coat with its fur-lined hood was doing its job.

  “You really should work on Mom’s,” Parker said. “She needs it.”

  “It’s a plan,” Cole said, breaking away from Saylor’s gaze.

  Heat flooded to her cheeks anew, but she scooped more snow into the bucket she’d brought out, packing and dumping it to make her little wall of snow taller. Cole began packing snow against their existing fort. Together, they built two forts, one for Parker and Saylor, and one for Cole.

  “When I was a kid, we built a fort we could crawl into,” Cole said as they went.

  “Like an igloo?” Parker asked, stopping to rub a glove against his red nose.

  “Sort of. We crawled in through a hole and would sit inside, telling jokes.”

  Parker dropped his bucket, dumping the snow to the side. Saylor scooped it and packed another snowball to add to the cache she had behind the wall. “Let’s build an igloo! Please, Mommy, can we?”

  Cole laughed, blowing air onto his gloved hands. Chunks of snow clung to the thin fabric. He pumped his fingers. He must be soaked through. His nose and ears were bright red as well, and he sniffed a few times. Saylor’s fingers equally burned with cold; the wet was seeping through her gloves too.

  “How about another day?” she said, staring at their forts and the snowballs assembled there. “We might finish our battle later. I think Cole is cold.”

  Parker considered this. “You’re cold?” he said, turning to Cole. “You should have dressed warmer.”

  They all laughed at his innocent way of stating the obvious.

  “What about our forts?”

  “They’ll keep,” Saylor told Parker, bending to his level. “How about some hot chocolate?”

  “Yeah!” Parker jumped up and down excitedly, pumping his arms.

  Cole patted his hands together several times. A few snow chunks fell off, but several more still clung to the gloves.

  “What do you say?” Saylor asked, crossing their playground to him. “You want to come inside?”

  He sniffed again, his eyes twinkling at her. “Hot chocolate sounds great.”

  She was transfixed by him, by the warmth in his gaze and the curve of his smile, and the fact he actually meant to come into her house, to spend time not only with her, but with her son.

  Too soon, reality sank like an icicle down her back. There was a pile of dishes in her sink. Parker’s things were still strewn across their small living room.

  Cole had said he wanted to get to know her better. She supposed this would be an all-inclusive trip into her life, messes and everything.

  Warmth burned into her cheeks and ears the second they walked through the back door. For once, Saylor was grateful for the retro-orange linoleum in the small wash space. Linoleum was easier to mop up than wet carpet would be.

  An old washer sat with its lid open. To her horror, a bra dangled out from a basket filled with dirty clothes. She hurried to toss her coat on top of it and then bent to help Parker unzip.

  “Put your wet things in the washer,” she told her son, sliding out of her snow pants. Their boots were already beginning to leave a puddle of melting snow on the floor, and she reached for a towel on the shelf and set it beneath them.

  “Here,” she told Cole, taking his coat and hanging it behind the door. His t-shirt emphasized the line of his shoulders and chest. She swallowed, her mouth going dry. He ran several hands through his soaked hair, making it look more tousled and tempting than ever.

  The bottoms of his jeans were soaked through. “Your pants,” Saylor said with regret.

  “They’ll dry.” He took Parker’s gloves and tossed them into the dryer, too.

  “Come on in,” Saylor said. A wave of self-consciousness spilled through her. She stepped out into the living room and gestured to the small tree and the few Christmas decorations hanging around.

  “This is home?” he asked.

  “This is home. It’s probably time to take all of these down.” She gestured to the decorations.

  “Do we have to?” Parker whined, kneeling to play with the robot.

  “You’ve still got time,” Cole said, stepping over to examine the pictures hanging on the wall. Parker’s school picture from this year, when he had all of his teeth; one of her parents; one of her and Parker at the lake last year. The last was a snapshot her dad had captured of them, and she’d fallen in love with it and had it printed.

  “You want to watch a movie?” Saylor asked them, gesturing to their small TV below the pictures. Considering the state of dishes in her sink, she decided not to pursue hot chocolate at the moment.

  “Sure,” said Cole, but it was drowned by Parker’s exuberant, “Yeah!”

  Saylor gestured to the couch. “Have a seat. I’ll just grab some blankets.”

  Cole crossed over to sit just beside Parker on the floor. He pointed to the robot and began asking the little guy all kinds of questions, receiving excited answers about his new Christmas toys.

  She retrieved a pair of blankets from the closet in her bedroom and crossed back through, stopping to take in the state of the kitchen. Dishes in the sink, that one she knew. Looked like the floor needed to be swept too. Dang it.

  “Don’t move a muscle,” Cole said. He rose and joined her side, taking the blankets from her and setting them down before returning.

  “What is it?” she asked, her breath hitching. He wouldn’t comment on her dirty kitchen, would he?

  Cole stood close, smelling far too good for her to think clearly. With a smoky look, he directed her gaze upward. A sprig of mistletoe dangled in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. Right above them.

  A slight chill tingled and tightened her stomach. She laughed to hide her unease. “Oh that? I hung it as a joke so I could kiss Parker whenever I caught him under it.”

  “Clever,” Cole said under his breath, his deep tone unlocking something inside of her.

  “She does, too,” Parker said, sounding annoyed.

  “It’s become quite the game.” Saylor tripped over her words, unable to think clearly with Cole this close to her. “He tries to run every time I catch him near it.”

  She smiled, remembering the last time it had happened. She’d given chase,
captured him, and dragged him back to the mistletoe so she could plant a squishy kiss on his cheek.

  Parker grimaced at the same memory, and it only widened her smile.

  It was short-lived, though. Awareness prickled over her, and her eyes slid back to Cole’s. He was watching her with an admiring intensity. Insight burnished in his blue eyes, and something told her he had a secret of his own, something he was longing to tell her. From this close up, she could see the scruff growing along his fantastic jawline. Her fingers itched to reach up and brush against it.

  Without thinking, she took a step toward him. Heat palpitated around him, straining the air and only making her want to move closer. Cole mimicked the movement, his gaze clapped on hers. His hand cradled her elbow, warm and assuring.

  His gaze skimmed to her mouth. Her pulse pounded, hammering out her ability to think, to breathe.

  “Ew, you’re not going to kiss her, are you?”

  Saylor inhaled and stepped back while sense swirled in. He—they—almost did. Right in front of her little boy.

  What was she thinking?

  Cole’s lips corked up, first at her, before he lowered his hand from her elbow and faced Parker. “You don’t think I should?”

  Parker avidly shook his head, one hand on either side of his robot. “Dad kisses Amanda all the time, and it’s so gross.”

  Saylor winced. Parker had failed to mention anything like that, what with all of their talk about his Christmas presents.

  Cole glanced at her with an understanding, apologetic smile. He knelt in front of Parker and picked up one of his action figures, staring at the small Captain America in his spangled, blue, superhero suit.

  “You know, mistletoe didn’t always stand for kissing.” Cole sat down beside the robot and handed Cap to Parker.

  Parker’s little brows drew together. “Mom said it does.”

  Cole rested his hands behind him. He stretched his long legs before him, crossing white-socked feet. “She’s right, it does, but it didn’t always. Have you heard of a god named Loki?”

  Parker’s eyes nearly popped. He bobbed onto his knees and gestured excitedly with the action figure. “He’s from The Avengers! I have an Iron Man costume, and a Captain America one Mom got for me. Do you want to see them?”

  “I’d love to,” Cole said. “But this is a different Loki. Legend says that he was the god of love and forgiveness.”

  Parker’s face screwed into a disinterested pout.

  “Loki was killed by a vengeful god. His mother was pretty upset about that.”

  “Sounds like my mom,” said Parker.

  Cole’s eyes twinkled up at her. “Your mom is a neat lady.”

  Parker seemed to like where this is going. He set his robot down, and Saylor’s heart cozied to see him scoot in closer for the remainder of the story.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “Well,” Cole said, readjusting his weight. “His mom was able to bring Loki back to life. To celebrate, she hung mistletoe up for everyone to see. Love and forgiveness won. That’s why mistletoe was used to represent forgiveness, before it was a symbol for Christmas.”

  Saylor raised her brows, impressed. She’d never heard anything like that before.

  Parker thought this over for a few seconds. “That sounds nice. The Avengers’ Loki isn’t very nice.”

  “No, he’s not,” Cole said with a chuckle, rubbing Parker’s back.

  “But Mom likes him anyway.”

  Saylor’s cheeks blazed, and her mouth parted.

  Cole snuck a flirtatious glance in her direction. “Oh, she does?”

  “He’s a good villain,” she said in playful defense from her relaxed position against the wall. “Likeable. Like the Joker. He’s evil, but so cool you can’t help liking him a tiny bit.”

  Cole glanced over for Parker’s take on this latest revelation. When the little boy said nothing, Cole said, “Coolness counteracts evilness. I see how you are.”

  She lifted her chin. “Only in movies.”

  They shared another earnest glance before Saylor had to break away.

  Chapter Eleven

  They spent the afternoon watching The Avengers—at Parker’s request. It seemed Cole instigated his interest, though the small boy loved action figures and superhero movies anyway. They shared a small dinner of Chinese takeout which Cole offered to order in. After that, they tucked Parker into bed.

  Awkwardness settled in, and Saylor didn’t know how to act about it. Cole had been there all day. He was showing no signs of wanting to leave anytime soon. Which was fine with her, but it also made her wonder how he was feeling about it all.

  Cole was waiting patiently on her couch when she returned from kissing Parker goodnight. She took the space beside him, and he stared at her expectantly, smiles in his eyes.

  “Calling it a night?” he asked.

  She sank beside him, feeling the heat of his side. He didn’t move away.

  “Thank you for what you did, for saving an awkward moment,” she said, hugging a decorative yellow pillow to her chest. “I’m sorry it had to go there.”

  Cole settled back as well, extending his legs once more. “Your ex is remarried, I take it.”

  She shook her head. “Not yet. But the date is set.”

  “And Parker is okay with it?”

  “I think so.”

  Cole shifted forward and moved a hair away from her face to get a better view. She swallowed, transfixed by the touch.

  “And Parker’s mom,” Cole went on, softer this time. “Is she okay with it?”

  Saylor stared at the small tree. Its red, green, and blue lights twinkled, giving off their small amount of light.

  “I have to be. For Parker’s sake.”

  “Your feelings matter, too,” he said after a drawn-out silence.

  “David doesn’t seem to think so.”

  Cole drew an arm around her shoulder, and they settled back together. She snuggled against him. He reached for the soft pink afghan and unfolded it, flaring it out across their laps as if they did this every day. “What happened between you two?”

  “He cheated on me,” Saylor said, mesmerized as Cole’s fingers found their way to hers the way they did at Rock Creek last night. The touch spiked fire into her veins.

  “They worked together, and I found out over Facebook, of all things.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Cole. “My wife and I ended it, too, after only two years.”

  His wife?

  “The trail, the woman you followed here?” she asked.

  He dipped his chin in agreement.

  “Any kids?” He’d mentioned nieces, but he’d never outright said whether or not he had any children of his own.

  This time he stared off, lost in his own thoughts. “I wanted them,” he said. “She didn’t. It seemed like the instant we married, we couldn’t see eye to eye anymore, on anything.”

  “I’m sorry, too.” Saylor knew all too well the pain of it all.

  “We’re a pair, aren’t we?” His fingers trailed along her arm on one side, interlocking with her fingers on the other. “At least you have Parker.”

  “I’m grateful every day for him,” she said, staring at their hands. “He keeps me from drifting back. He reminds me life is worth living.”

  After a few more quiet moments, Saylor took in the mistletoe still hanging in its place above the kitchen entry.

  “Was that a true story you told? About Loki and the mistletoe?”

  Cole shifted and lifted their hands, his fingers toying with hers. “It was. At least as far as Wikipedia is concerned.”

  She released a soft chuckle. “You researched mistletoe on Wikipedia?”

  “I looked it up out of curiosity one day after one of my coworkers gave mistletoe to everyone as a well-meant gift and had to defend herself against the frustrated phone calls from jealous wives.”

  Saylor’s chuckle built to a laugh, mostly because she could picture it happening. Poor woma
n. “I’m glad you told Parker. He likes that kind of thing.”

  Cole straightened, disturbing the warmth they’d built in their cocoon beneath the afghan. He faced her, leaning in closer. “The other part is true too,” he said, lifting the afghan. He took her hand and pulled her to her feet.

  “The kissing part?” she asked stupidly.

  Still facing her, Cole guided her back to the entryway. She couldn’t break her eyes from him, but she also knew the exact moment they stood beneath the mistletoe, the same way thoughts spread over another person’s expression. There was no audible clue what another person could be thinking, just intuition.

  “It’s a tradition,” he said, his voice husky.

  Her heart rat-a-tatted. His feet slid closer. She swallowed, pulse raging, every part of her aching for this.

  “It would be a shame to break tradition,” she said.

  He tilted closer. She couldn’t break from the intensity in his eyes in any other way but to close her own.

  Still, doubt crept in. On an exhale, she prayed out the words before his lips had a chance to stop them: “Are you sure?”

  A pause and a chuckle. “About kissing you? Absolutely.”

  “About me, period.” She allowed her lids to open. His steely blue eyes examined her for a moment, and she did the same. She took in his forehead and hairline, his cheeks, his lips, before resting back on his gaze.

  “Cole, are you sure you want to get into this?” She fisted his shirt in her hands.

  Bemused, he backed up just enough. Was it just her, or was there the slightest hint of hesitation in his eyes? “You trying to ward me off?”

  “I give everything I’ve got in a relationship,” she told him. “I latch on easily, and I’ve got a firm grip. Because of that, I tend to get hurt.”

  “I’ve got a pretty firm grip myself.” His hand made its way to the small of her back.

  There they were, in that moment of breathtaking stillness. He inched her closer, their hearts beating together, waiting together, wanting together.

  She peered up at him through her lashes. All hesitation was gone. Instead, longing burned in his gaze. In that look, she was hopeless. She was lost and falling, and yet found all at once, and she tiptoed, pressing against him to weave her hand behind his neck.