Читать книгу Cole's Christmas Wish - Tracy Madison - Страница 11

Chapter Three

Rachel finished loading the dishwasher with the breakfast dishes and faced Andrew, who had just returned to the kitchen after taking a phone call. “What do you want to do today? The snow’s falling a little too thick for skiing, but we could walk around the town, take in the sights, look for a tree...do some Christmas shopping. Whatever you want.”

“I’m sorry, Rachel, but that was the office,” Andrew said, gesturing toward his cell. “There are some issues with a potential client that will likely require my attention.”

“Oh.” Rachel fought off her disappointment. Andrew owned a management consulting firm, and she was already well-versed in the putting-plans-on-hold department. He was busy, traveled extensively and rarely made it through a meal, let alone an entire day, without an interruption. “Well, you warned me this would be a working vacation. Is it serious?”

“Maybe. Too soon to tell yet, but we should probably—”

“Stay in today,” Rachel finished his sentence for him. “That’s fine! We can dig out the Christmas decorations, so they’re ready to go when we find a tree, watch some old movies, play a board game.” An idea occurred to her. A nice, homey, tradition-filled idea. “Hey! Feel like baking some sugar cutouts?”

“You’re amazing, do you know that?” Approaching her, Andrew dropped his phone on the counter and pulled her into a hug. “You’ve never given me grief over my job, over the demands placed on our relationship because of it. I appreciate that in you, Rachel.”

“I’m glad you’ve noticed,” she joked, standing up on her tiptoes to brush her lips over his cheek. “Because sometimes, your job is a pain in the butt.”

“I know it seems that way, especially since your schedule is typically so clear,” he said, referring to Rachel’s careerless life. “But the company is in a crucial period right now. We’re growing fast, which is good, but I have to ascertain we’re able to sustain the growth, see to our existing client base, bring new clients on board, all while expanding and training staff.”

His comment burned, a little, even though she knew he hadn’t meant any harm. She kept herself busy enough with her parents’ social events, where her attendance was deemed mandatory, charitable causes and their functions—of which, there were plenty, and the odd class here and there, when something pulled at her interest.

But Andrew was right. Her schedule was infinitely clearer than his.

“I understand all of that, Andrew, which is why I don’t give you grief.” She appreciated his appreciation, but she’d enjoy his undivided attention a bit more. Especially now, on their first full day in Steamboat Springs. “So...what will it be? Cookies, decorations, games or a movie?”

“Cookies sound—” Andrew jerked to grab his phone, but it wasn’t his cell buzzing. It was Rachel’s “—delicious. Go ahead and get that. I’ll search the cupboards for ingredients.”

Nodding, Rachel answered without looking at the display.

“Hey there, Rach. How’s your morning treating you?” Cole asked, jovial as all get-out.

The sound of his voice—the rich, deep ring of it—sank in like butter melting on a hot, fresh-off-the-griddle pancake. That, along with his upbeat mood, caused her attitude to dip another degree. Still, she kept her tone chipper when she said, “Wonderful. How’s yours?”

“Good. Real good, in fact.” Someone said something on his end that she couldn’t quite catch, but she heard enough to know the speaker was female. Was it her? The complicated, shy-yet-determined Cupcake? “Haley says hi,” Cole said. “And wants to know if you have any clothes you’re angling to give away.”

Haley. Cole’s sister, not his girlfriend.

Rachel laughed, in relief and in humor. Last year, when Haley had stopped by for a visit, she’d raided Rachel’s closet, oohing and ahing at the designer labels. She’d been so excited, Rachel had given her a boxful of outfits: dresses, shirts, pants and a couple of jackets.

Rachel didn’t need them. Her mother shopped to show her love...and she shopped a lot. Which, Rachel supposed, said something. “Tell Haley to stop by whenever,” she said. “My closet is her closet.”

Cole relayed the information. Haley squealed and jabbered something else. Rachel smiled even broader. She adored Cole’s family. For a long while, when she was younger, she’d pretend they were her family. Her parents, her brothers, her sister.

Well, except for Cole. She’d never thought of him as her brother.

“Believe it or not, the reason for my call has nothing to do with my sister’s fetish for clothes,” Cole said, returning his attention to Rachel. “If you’re available—and I’ll understand if you’re not, seeing this is last minute—I thought we could meet up for lunch.”

“Lunch? Today?” Andrew, she saw, had found the flour and sugar. She pointed toward the cupboard that held the mixing bowls. “As in, you and I? Or will your significant other be joining us?” No way, no how would she resort to calling a stranger “Cupcake.”

“I believe she will be present, yes.”

“Really? That fast? I thought you said it would take some time to convince her to meet me. Since she’s so shy and all. Or did I misunderstand you?”

“What can I say? Women are a mystery. Just when I think I have one figured out, they veer off course and I have to start from scratch.” Exhaling a short, noisy sigh, Cole continued, “I gotta say, Rachel, you females are a confusing lot. Say one thing when you mean another. Speak in code half the damn time, and usually, we poor men are left in the dark.”

“Uh-huh. You ‘poor men’ rule the world, rarely call a girl when you say you’re going to, and usually, leave us poor women wondering what we did wrong to elicit such behavior...and scrambling to figure out what we can do to fix it.”

“Sweetheart,” Cole said in that drawling way of his, “the perception might be that men rule the world, but the facts are that women rule the men. Your team has the upper hand in every negotiation with my team. Ask Andrew if you don’t believe me.”

“I’ll do that.” Huh. If that were the case, then why did Rachel forever feel as if she were on the losing team? “Later. But only if you ask your sister.”

“Deal. I’ll be interested in hearing his take,” Cole said with a chuckle. “About lunch?”

“Well...” Rachel stalled, unsure if she was prepared to meet Cole’s Cupcake just yet. “Andrew and I are baking cookies and we might...um...bake a lot. So not really sure if today—”

“Go, Rachel,” Andrew said, pausing his search of her cupboards. “I’ll probably be tied up soon enough with work, anyway. I’m sure we can get at least one batch of cookies baked first.”

“One sec,” she said to Cole. Then, covering the phone with her hand, said to Andrew, “Are you sure? I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

“Lunch with Cole and his girlfriend, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m sure.” He opened a drawer and discovered the measuring spoons. “You can get out of the house for a bit and I can focus on my job without feeling guilty. Seems like a win-win situation. On all accounts.”

“Right. Win-win.” Discouraged and, not that she’d admit it, somewhat annoyed, Rachel nodded and put the phone next to her ear. “Lunch is fine, Cole. When and where? Foster’s?” she asked, referring to the family-owned restaurant and pub. Where else would they go?

“No,” Cole said after the briefest of pauses. “Let’s go to Dee’s Deli. Say one o’clock?”

“Um. Sure. I’ll see you then.” Hanging up, Rachel smiled absently at Andrew, who was now organizing the items he’d placed on the counter. It was cute. And...homey. “All set.”

“Good. Are you excited to meet Cole’s better half?”

“I’m more interested than excited. As far as her being his better half? I’d say that remains to be seen.” Her irrational irritation at the whole mess broke free with, “He calls her Cupcake. Cupcake! Isn’t that ridiculous? She isn’t a toy poodle, for crying out loud.”

“Perhaps she resembles a toy poodle, hence the nickname?”

“What?” Rachel tried to picture that possibility and came up blank. “You mean if she’s petite and has curly hair? Or...I don’t know, Andrew. How can a woman resemble a poodle?”

“I was joking, Rachel.” Andrew looked at her curiously, the concern in his gray eyes evident. “It’s a term of endearment. Why are you upset? Does it matter what he calls her?”

“I’m not upset...I’m—” She stopped, sighed. “No, it doesn’t matter in the slightest. I guess I’m used to these visits going a certain way, and this time, everything is different.”

“I see.” Andrew crossed the distance between them and kissed her on her forehead. “Forget about Cole and his Cupcake. We have cookies to bake,” he said with a grin. “I haven’t made Christmas cutouts since I was a child. Maybe this is the start of a tradition for us.”

“That’s a sweet thought...and a nice one.”

“I like it, too. I’m sorry about work butting in today,” he said, his voice and his expression earnest. “And for my attitude with Cole last night at the Beanery. Forgive me?”

“Of course,” she murmured. “Nothing to forgive.”

Pivoting, unable to handle his scrutiny or his sweetness, she located the cookie cutters and dumped them on the counter before grabbing the cookbook. “Let’s make a tradition.”

Andrew’s gaze still held concern, but he didn’t push the topic. Just nodded and joined her at the counter. Rachel tried—oh, how she tried—to stay in the present, to enjoy this time with Andrew, but her mind kept traveling down other paths.

Yes, darn it, what Cole called his girlfriend mattered. Why hadn’t he mentioned her real name? And really, using only a term of endearment when talking about someone else was odd. Also, and even more telling, Rachel mused as she measured flour into the mixing bowl, was that he’d suggested Dee’s over the family restaurant.

Maybe Cole’s family didn’t approve of the relationship? Oh, wow. That would mean...

Anxiety pooled in Rachel’s stomach and pinpoints of pain jabbed at her temples. If so...then yes, Cole truly loved this woman. His family and their opinions were too important, too valuable to him to remain involved with a woman he didn’t have real feelings for.

“Darling?” Andrew’s amused tenor broke into Rachel’s thoughts. “I think you went a tad overboard on the flour. We’re not opening up a bakery, are we?”

Rachel stared into the mixing bowl, now almost filled-to-the-brim with flour. About, she guessed, four times the amount necessary.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, not sure if she meant her mistake or the fact she’d been thinking about another man when she should be focused on Andrew. On finding her own slice of happiness. “I...don’t know what happened.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” Andrew started scooping flour back into the storage container. “See? Easy enough problem to fix.”

Right. Easy as pie. Too bad she couldn’t say the same about cupcakes.

Well...one particular cupcake. Rachel sighed and attempted to push what didn’t concern her out of her mind. Her goal should be to surround herself with the present, with Andrew. If she were very fortunate, perhaps she’d soon be taking a leap of her own.

Into Andrew’s arms.

* * *

Cole stood outside of Dee’s Deli with a to-go box in his hands, waiting for Rachel to arrive. It might be a little—or by some folks’ perspectives, a lot—cold for a picnic, but he’d heard Rachel’s surprise at the fact he’d chosen Dee’s over Foster’s for lunch.

He couldn’t take her there until he’d had a chance to talk to his family. His convoluted plan would go up in flames the second Rachel asked any one of them about his girlfriend. In the light of day, he wasn’t so sure he could pull this off anyway, but he knew he couldn’t if his family refused to get on board. Tonight, Cole decided, he’d see what they had to say.

Until then, he figured a winter picnic would suffice well enough as an explanation for that particular decision. Explaining why his Cupcake was absent from the picnic was another story, but he thought he could deal with that little issue on the fly. Hoped so, anyway.

Thankfully, the snow had lightened considerably in the past hour, and Haley had readily agreed to watch over the store solo for the afternoon. Mostly because he’d asked her to do so last year during Rachel’s visit, so in her mind, this wasn’t any different.

For the next five minutes, Cole went over his plan and the words he intended to use. A tight rope, for sure, portraying a man in love with a made-up woman to the real woman he was actually in love with. There were holes in his plan. Big, gaping holes that he hadn’t quite worked out how to fill. If he played his part too strong, Rachel—assuming she still had feelings for him—might keep those feelings to herself, in the name of his happiness.

Conversely, if Cole didn’t play the part with enough realism, she—again, assuming she even had those feelings—might not be propelled to unbury them, or, hell, to even recognize they existed. Cole’s goal, therefore, was to strive for a balance.

Of course, determining where the line was between “too far” and “not enough” could prove problematic. He’d have to play it by ear, be ready to make adjustments at a second’s notice and hope he achieved the right balance at the right time.

He’d given some thought to just telling Rachel what his feelings were, which had been his original plan before he’d learned about Andrew. Now, after going down that road for all of thirty seconds, Cole had dismissed it outright. The humiliating truth of the matter was that he didn’t think he could take being shot down while another man was in the picture.

This way, at the very least, he retained some control. Some dignity. If Rachel didn’t bite, he’d have his answer soon enough without handing her his heart to decimate. Later, after she’d returned to New York, he’d simply tell her his relationship with Cupcake had come to an end.

No harm. No foul.

Their friendship would live on, Rachel would never know the truth, and Cole would continue living and working in Steamboat Springs. Someday, he might even meet another woman that he’d be able to envision a future with.

He caught sight of Rachel crossing the street, barely skirting the pile of snow left by the curb as she stepped off of it. She was, he realized, stuck deep in her head somewhere, thinking of who knew what and not paying attention to her surroundings.

In that moment, with his vision centered on Rachel, someday seemed an impossibility. As if the reality of loving another woman—any other woman—existed in a different world. One very far from the world Cole—and Rachel—lived in.

* * *

Right before she’d left the house, Andrew had sequestered himself in her father’s office with his laptop and phone. The cookies were baked and cooling, ready for frosting when Rachel returned. Andrew had promised that if all went well on his end, they could see about getting a tree that evening. If all did not go well, they could go tomorrow, or the next day.

They had plenty of time. Almost two weeks until Christmas day, so another day or two or three shouldn’t make a difference. But it did.

She’d put off her lack of Christmas spirit to the fact she hadn’t yet immersed herself in the season. Christmas had always been her favorite holiday, her most favorite time of year, and she wanted to reclaim the happy glow that usually came so effortlessly.

To her, that meant choosing the perfect tree posthaste.

The tree was the visual epicenter of the holiday. You wrapped gifts to put under the tree. You sat around the tree to look at the lights, maybe even to sing a few Christmas carols. You hung ornaments from Christmases past on the tree’s branches to recall the memories and emotions you experienced one year ago, two, three...and more.

Everything surrounded the tree. Sure, she could find one on her own. She’d done so before. But to further her goal of falling head over heels for Andrew, she wanted to do so with him. Create more traditions, as it were. First, though, he needed to clear his schedule, so he could enjoy himself and not stress over business-related problems.

Honestly, she had to wonder if it would have made more sense for Andrew to have stayed in the city until a few days before Christmas. She knew he hated dealing with work issues from afar, so she guessed he’d prefer to be in New York now, rather than here with her.

That is a pessimistic attitude, her inner voice chided, and you have no idea if that’s how Andrew feels. True. But she couldn’t help the way she felt.

Plus, frankly, coming to grips with her nonsensical irritation, shock and other various emotions regarding Cole’s relationship would be easier if she didn’t have to worry about what Andrew was doing, or how he felt, or...

Lost in thought as she was, she didn’t see Cole until she’d just about barged into him. One arm reached out to steady her, stopping her from slipping on the snow-slicked sidewalk. She gasped, righted herself and took a purposeful step backward.

Flustered, she pulled in a breath. “Didn’t see you standing there.”

“I noticed.” Dark brown eyes simmered in amusement and something else Rachel couldn’t name. “Have to be more careful or one of these days, you’re going to run into a wall.”

Been there, done that. What she said, though, was, “Thanks for the warning.”

“That’s me, always willing to lend some helpful advice,” he said, deadpan. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Calm down, Rachel instructed herself and her out-of-control pulse. This was Cole. Her friend. Her good friend. “What are you doing out here instead of inside?”

“Waiting for you.”

Rachel arched an eyebrow. “Again. Why out here?” Oh. Maybe he had something to tell her, something he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—say in front of his girlfriend? “Is there a problem?”

“Nope. Not a one.” Grinning, Cole held up a to-go box. “Thought we’d eat outside today, is all. Cupcake enjoys winter picnics and I like to do things that make her happy.”

“Isn’t that...nice.” Rachel loved the outdoors, but really—a picnic in the dead of winter?

“She thinks so.” His expression became contemplative. “If the thought isn’t appealing to you, I’m sure Cupcake will understand. She doesn’t have a lot of free time today, though, so we’ll probably have to put this meeting off to some other—”

“No!” Ouch. Way too loud. Lowering the volume, Rachel said, “I love winter picnics, Cole!” She looked around, didn’t see anyone resembling a toy poodle. Or for that matter, an actual toy poodle. “I assume she’s meeting us there...wherever there is?”

“Good assumption. I’ve always appreciated your above average observational skills.”

“Are you being sarcastic?”

Instead of replying, he winked and curved his free arm through hers. “We should get a move on,” he said. “Before you freeze standing there. The walk will help warm you up.”

“I’m warm enough, but sure...let’s go,” Rachel said brightly. “We wouldn’t want to keep her waiting.”

“Nope,” Cole agreed as they took off at a brisk pace. “That would be rude.”

“And she wouldn’t like having to wait, would she?” Ugh. She hadn’t meant to sound snide. “Based on what you said last night, that is, about her being determined once she makes up her mind.”

“Why, Rachel Merriday, are you calling my girlfriend impatient?” Cole’s body shook with silent laughter.

“Yes, actually,” she said, his amusement pushing her irritation to new heights. “I am.”

He let out a heavy-sounding sigh. “I’ll admit that her tendency skews toward the impatient side, but I find the trait rather endearing. Helps keep me on my toes.”

“You’ve always preached patience,” Rachel pointed out, disliking the mysterious Cupcake more by the second. “To me, anyway.”

“Yup, I have. You two are quite a bit alike in the impatience...determined department.” Cole guided her around a small group of folks gathered in front of the hardware store. “In a manner of speaking, our friendship has gone a long way in preparing me for this relationship.”

Rachel stopped and narrowed her eyes. “Are you implying that I’m a complicated woman, Cole Foster? Because if you are—”

One long, weighty look halted her words. Goose bumps popped up on her skin and a tremble passed over her as he, inch by inch, appraised the full length of her body.

“Wh-what are you doing?” she stammered.

“Ascertaining you’re still a female,” he said. “And you are. So yes, Rachel, you’re a complicated woman. As is my sister, my mother and every other woman I’ve ever known.”

Unable to regain her bearing, Rachel started walking again, though she had no clue where they were headed. Over her shoulder, she said, “I guess that means you owe me.”

He caught up to her, his long stride erasing the distance she’d created in no time flat. “Owe you for what?”

“Why, preparing you for this relationship, of course.” With a flip of her hair, she marched forward, refusing to look at him again so soon after her body had darn near melted.

Once again, he entwined his arm with hers. He slowed their pace down to that of a leisurely stroll. In a voice dripping with laughter, he said, “Oh, you have, and you’re right, I absolutely owe you. What’s your price?”

“We can start with ‘Cupcake’s’ first name,” Rachel said as they approached the local elementary school. Hmm. If they were having lunch here, did that mean Cole’s girlfriend was a teacher? “It’s becoming tiresome referring to her as a baked confection...or the generic ‘her’ or ‘she.’ So what gives, Cole? What’s her name?”

“Driving you crazy that you don’t know, isn’t it? There,” Cole said, nodding toward and then leading them in the direction of the school playground. “I’ll brush the snow off one of the benches and we can get settled.”

“Cole!” Rachel said, exasperated, and okay, a little crazy. “What. Is. Her. Name?”

“Uh-huh, driving you crazy. I bet,” he said slowly, “you’re coming up with all these excuses why I haven’t told you yet. One of them is probably that my family doesn’t approve.”

“Do they?”

“They like her just fine, Rachel.” He shrugged, causing a lock of black hair to fall on his forehead. Her fingers itched with the want to stroke it back into place. “But I can’t tell you her name.”

“You...can’t tell me your girlfriend’s name?” Rachel yanked her arm out of Cole’s and settled her hands on her hips. “Why in the world wouldn’t you be able to give me such basic information about the woman you’re seeing?”

“Why do you do that?” he asked instead of answering. “Repeat my statement in question form, as if ascertaining you heard me correctly? You know me well enough, or you should, to know I don’t say something unless I mean it.”

“Because what you’re saying is absurd.”

“Only because you don’t have the proper information.” Cole handed her the box of food. “Give me a minute here, and I’ll explain everything. Over lunch.”

It was a Thursday, but the playground was empty. Too cold and snowy for outdoor recess, apparently. Rachel shielded her eyes and turned in a circle, looking for the woman they were supposed to be meeting. No sign of Cupcake. Shouldn’t she be here by now?

“She isn’t here,” Rachel said, giving heed to the instinct she’d had ever since Cole’s phone call that morning. “She isn’t coming. She was never coming. Isn’t that right, Cole?”

Cole faced her, his expression serious. “No, she isn’t. I used meeting her as an excuse to give us some privacy, without Andrew’s presence.”

“I see.” Rachel counted to ten, slowly. “Why?”

“Because I need your help.”

“My help? What type of help?”

“See? You’re doing it again, making a question out of my statement.”

She tapped her foot once. Twice. And waited.

“It’s like this, Rachel.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked her straight in the eye. “My mind is set on proposing to this woman I love, on Christmas day. But I’m experiencing some...let’s call them difficulties, in getting her to see our relationship the way I do. I need your help in romancing her, priming her, so to speak, so she’ll say yes.”

“Proposing? As in...marriage?” Rachel whispered, not caring in the least that she’d rephrased his statement as a question. “As in, this Christmas?”

“That’s my goal. And that’s why I can’t, or won’t, tell you her name. I want someone who doesn’t have any preconceived notions about...Cupcake.” He paused, as if weighing his words. The corners of his mouth curved into a tiny grin. “Yep, that’s what I need. Someone who can be objective in their advice, based on what I see in this woman, in what I tell them.”

Rachel swallowed, backed out of his hold. “And you’re afraid that if I know her name, I’ll...what? Somehow learn something about her that will hinder my ability to...help you woo her? By the simple virtue of having her name?”

“Exactly! Why, you might accidentally bump into her at the Beanery, or at Foster’s. If you don’t know her name, you won’t know it’s her, see what I’m getting at? Or you might hear some folks chatting, and if her name came up, you’d be all over that.” His smile widened in smug satisfaction, as if he were extraordinarily pleased with his explanation. “This way, you have to rely on the information I give you, so your viewpoint will be the same as mine.”

“I see.”

“I knew you would.” Cole grabbed Rachel’s hand and squeezed tight. “This woman is special. Every detail needs to be right. Just right. She deserves so much more than she knows, and I want to be the one to give her everything. And more.”

Wow. Just...wow.

“I guess I don’t understand,” Rachel somehow managed to say. “If you love her, and she loves you, why do you need any help? Especially mine?”

Turning away, Cole brushed the snow off the bench and gestured for her to sit. She didn’t. Just kept her mouth shut and waited for him to answer her question.

“She’s had...some problems with a few of her past relationships. And a rocky childhood, I guess you’d say. She has all these barriers because of both.” Cole shifted his gaze away from hers. “I’m afraid if I’m not careful, she’ll bolt. I can’t let that happen, Rach.”

“Oh.” His logic clicked solidly into place with a sickening thud. A tremble passed through her, and then another, before she found the courage to voice the obvious. “Her past sounds a lot like my past, doesn’t it, Cole?”

He nodded.

“So from your perspective, we’re both impatient, complicated women who share similar issues.” Moisture appeared behind Rachel’s eyes, threatening tears. She blinked them away. Fast. “That’s why you want my help in particular, correct? Because you think I’ll somehow have an inside track into how to get around these specific barriers?”

“That and the fact you’re my best friend.”

“Right. Best friend.” Well, at least he was honest. The throbbing in her temples returned. “I... This is a surprise.”

Cole watched her with a speculative gleam. The tense set of his shoulders, his jaw, his very stance declared how important this was to him. “I don’t need an answer right now,” he said. “I know I’m asking a lot, especially since this could potentially steal time you’d planned on having with Andrew. Ask whatever you want, take however long you need.”

Closing her eyes, Rachel tried to rationalize a way she could gracefully decline. She could use the Andrew excuse he’d just given her, but honestly, based on the happenings that morning, she felt fairly sure the majority of Andrew’s vacation would be claimed by work.

She could just say no. Simply state the prospect made her uncomfortable. Oh, God. This was...unthinkable. Her chest tightened with pressure and her throat closed. She so didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to help Cole—a man she’d once hoped would be her man—romance another woman into marrying him.

So, yes, she could say no. Should say no. But she’d left him once before when he’d needed her. Had taken off due to fear and complications and a host of other issues she’d never fully explained. Issues she still didn’t completely understand herself. She’d hurt him. Heck, she’d hurt them...not only what might have been, but their friendship.

No. She wouldn’t do that again. Despite how difficult this might be, she couldn’t turn her back on his plea. In that second, in no more than a single beat of her heart, Rachel gave in and accepted her fate. Fully, this time. Cole Foster and Rachel Merriday were friends. Forever friends.

“Okay, then.” Opening her eyes, she infused cheery and merry into her tone with all of her might. “Let’s see what we can do about getting you engaged. We’ll call it—” she paused, took in a gulp of air to center herself “—my Christmas present to you.”

He came to her then, hugged her so hard that she lost the rest of her breath. “Thank you,” he whispered, the warmth of his body easing into hers. “I couldn’t do this without you.”

Merry freaking Christmas, indeed.