He nodded. "I wore it around my neck for a long time. I found it in my stuff today. Thought you should have it."
She brushed her fingers over the rough ridges. "You kept it all this time?"
"I hung it up on a nail inside my closet. It was still there when I looked this morning. My mom must not have seen it when she cleaned out my room after I left."
She tightened her finger around it. As much as she wanted to be part of the Mystic Island tradition, there was something about the scallop shell that made her want to hold onto it and never let it go. "It's beautiful." she whispered. "Thank you." She grabbed the front of his jacket and tugged him down to her so she could kiss him.
His lips were cold from the winter chill, but the kiss was instant heat and perfection, melting into the same passionate connection they'd shared since the beginning.
They were both grinning when he pulled back. "Go ahead and hang it," he urged, gesturing at the tree.
Reluctantly, she looped it around one of the branches and stepped back. The tiny white shell was almost invisible against the snow, and she felt her heart tighten. Was that what this time with Cole was going to be? Just fade away to invisibility? A part of her wanted to grab the shell off the tree, tuck her hand in Cole's, and race back to his inn to hold onto this moment with him.
He put his arm over her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. "It's perfect."
"Won't it get lost? What happens if there's a storm and it blows away? Or when they take the ornaments off the tree? How will we know where it is next Christmas? What if we want to see it again?"
Cole raised his eyebrows at her in surprise. Then, without another word, he walked a few feet away from her, kicked the snow aside, and crouched down, feeling through the snow. He picked something up, twisted it, and then walked back over to her. "Hang this instead."
She looked down and saw he'd woven two broken sticks into a small wreath. "It's perfect." She looked at the shell from so long ago, and the wreath he'd just made. Suddenly, what had happened twelve years ago didn't feel as important as this moment with him. This moment was what she wanted to hold so tightly in her heart. "Can I keep the wreath instead?"
He smiled. "Anything you want."
"I'll keep the wreath." She folded it carefully in a tissue, and tucked it in the inside pocket of her jacket. "Should we go home?"
"In a sec." He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him, his dark eyes searching hers. "I need to know why there are so many shadows in your eyes. I need to know what made the holes in your heart. I want to know who you are, so I can chase away the darkness and fill it with light. Tell me your story, Willow Morgan. Who are you?"
Chapter 9
COLE FELT WILLOW stiffen the moment he asked the question, but he didn't release her. He hadn't missed the look of absolute terror on her face when she'd been identified at the dance. She'd gone sheet white, and looked like a rabbit ready to bolt for cover. Whatever it was that had her spooked, he wanted to know what it was. "It won't change how I see you. To me you'll always just be the girl from the beach. Talk to me."
She searched his face, as if to ferret out any signs of subterfuge, and then she finally sighed. "You said you've been living under a rock, but surely you've heard of Billy Morgan and Ceci Ramirez?"
He frowned at her reference to two of Hollywood's biggest celebrities, superstars who'd had more than their share of scandals. They were infamous for affairs, on-the-set blowups, and Billy had been in and out of treatment for substance abuse over the years. They were both megastars, celebrities whose stardom had transcended the years and the scandals. "Of course."
She gave him a thin smile. "They're my parents."
"Your parents?" He frowned, trying to reconcile the ugliness of Hollywood celebrity life with the woman in his arms. "Really?"
"Really." She spread her hands. "I'm the ugly kid they hate to admit they have."
He narrowed his eyes, searching his memories for references to their children. "Isn't Angelica Morgan their daughter? And...a son, right? Trevor Morgan?"
"Yes, and me." She shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm the kid no one likes to acknowledge." She lifted her chin. "I'm the ugly, fat one," she said softly. "I never lived up to my family's successes. I'm just..." She shrugged. "Whatever."
He remembered suddenly seeing Ceci's wedding picture on the front of a magazine at a grocery store recently, and the groom who was twenty years younger. He hadn't paid any attention to it at the time, but as he looked into Willow's vulnerable face, he wished he had. Hell. "Tell me more," he said, sliding his hand into hers. "Let's walk."
She fell in beside him, her shoulder bumping against his as she began to fill him in about growing up in that family. The parties, the paparazzi, the constant judgment by the media. Her voice was tight and reserved as she spoke, but he could feel her pain anyway, especially when she talked about all her attempts to have an acting career like theirs, and how she'd always fallen short, never getting the role that would make her legitimate. "There was this one role I really wanted. It was for a fantastic movie. The director called my agent and told me that I was too fat and I needed a nose job if I ever wanted to get anywhere," she said softly. "I was sixteen at the time. It crushed me."
Cole swore under his breath, and pulled her to face him. "Listen to me, Willow," he said. "When you were sixteen, listening to some bastard say you were too fat, I was spending my Saturday afternoon at the dock, waiting for the ferry, hoping that the next one would bring you back to the island."
She frowned. "You were?"
"For the rest of that summer, and the summer after that, I met every single ferry that came to the island, looking for you. I watched every face that came off the boat, searching for you. I thought you'd come back, and I didn't want to miss it." He slid his finger under her jaw. "That's how amazing you were back then, and that's how amazing you are now. Every single ferry, sweetheart. I didn't miss a single one. I'd hear the horn, and I'd jump on my bike and haul ass down to the docks, no matter what I was doing." He still remembered his friends jeering him and his mom getting irritated, but that hadn't stopped him. He'd believed she would come back, and he'd wanted to be there for her the moment she stepped off the boat.
Turned out, he'd been right that she was coming back. Yeah, he'd been a decade early at first, but in the end, he'd still managed to be there the moment she returned.
Tears filled her eyes, and she gripped the front of his jacket. "I needed you back then," she said. "I needed someone to say that to me."
"You have me now," he said, bending his head to kiss her. Her lips were soft and sweet, tasting of eggnog and Christmas cookies, and heat instantly roared through him, the kind of heat that demanded nakedness, kisses that lasted forever, and orgasms that never let go.
Swearing, he broke the kiss, all too aware that if he didn't, he'd be pinning her up against the nearest building and doing things that would shock the inhabitants of Mystic Island. Instead, he caught her chin, letting her see the truth on his face. "And I'll say it as often as you need to hear it. Forget Hollywood, sweetheart. You're so much more than that superficial crap."
She smiled, a smile so beautiful and intimate that his heart seemed to stop and the night came to life. Unable to resist, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her the way he wanted to, with raw passion, desire, and a possessiveness that was so unfamiliar to him, but at the same time, so natural. As she melted against him, Cole knew that this was his moment. Nothing else in his life would complete him like kissing Willow by the docks on Christmas Eve.
Christmas might have died for him the day his father died, but tonight, for this one night, it lived on. Tomorrow was the first Christmas he'd looked forward to in a long, damned time.
But first...they had one more stop, one more thing he had to give her for Christmas, something she didn't even know she could have, something that only he could give her...with a little bit of help.
* * *
Willow hesi
tated as they approached the community center where the party was beginning to disperse, pausing when she realized that Cole intended for them to go back inside. The night had been so perfect with him, she didn't want to have to put up her emotional shields again, like she always had to in public. She wanted to stay soft, and she wanted to keep feeling the moment and her connection with him. "Let's skip it, Cole. I'd rather be alone with you."
But the stubborn man kept walking, his grip tightening on her hand when she tried to pull back. "I forgot my car keys," he said cheerfully. "It'll only take a second."
"What? That's a total lie." She narrowed her eyes at him, wondering what nefarious plan he'd hatched now. "Your keys are in your pocket. I saw you put them in there when we left."
He winked at her, keeping his grip tight around her hand. "I forgot my hat, then. Come on."
"Seriously? I don't need to go in there for that." Willow's heart began to hammer as he practically dragged her up the front steps of the building they'd just escaped from so surreptitiously. "Can't you respect what I want?"
"I am respecting what you want." He turned to face her, pausing on the steps. His eyes were soft with understanding, and he traced his fingers over her jaw, breaking through her tension. "Sweetheart, you wanted Christmas, right?"
She let herself lean into his touch, peace stealing over her just from the brush of his fingers. "Yes, but I don't need to go in there to have one. The present you gave me is everything I need. And…you." She hesitated before adding the last bit, unsure whether to voice it. Except it was true, and she wanted to say it. She wanted to feel her connection with him, and to acknowledge it.
He smiled, and leaned down to brush a kiss across her mouth. "Trust me. I have a present for you, but you have to come inside."
"Well…" She glanced past him, and saw people were already watching them with that knowing look she was used to, the one when strangers looked at her as if they knew all her sordid secrets. She sighed, feeling the same vulnerability creeping over her that she lived with all the time. "I don't want to deal with this tonight—"
He pulled her close then, his hands resting on her hips, his penetrating gaze searching hers. "Hey, babe, it's me. Don't you trust me?"
She stared into the dark eyes that had been a part of her for years. They were so familiar, and so comforting. Cole had been her source of strength for so long. Did she really trust him? He knew the reason she'd come to Mystic Island was to get away from her life. She searched his face, and knew that he would never put her in a situation that would take that away from her. "I trust you," she said quietly, the words both terrifying and exhilarating. The last time she'd trusted someone, she'd been betrayed. She was afraid to trust, but at the same time, she burned to have someone worth believing in again.
The pleased smile he gave her melted her heart. "Okay, then." He kissed her gently, then backed up, taking her hands in his. "Come in." He turned to walk into the party, his hand tight around hers.
Willow let out her breath, then allowed him to lead her into the room. He stepped inside the door, and she moved closer to him, wrapping both of her hands around his, as if somehow, he could be her shield.
The moment they stepped inside, Luc, Cole's childhood friend, headed right for them.
She stiffened, and raised her chin, preparing her haughtiest look, the one that kept everyone from pitying her. For a split second, she felt uncomfortable donning her shields, but it was so instinctual she couldn't help it.
Luc walked up. "You lied about your name. Why?" No preamble. No gawking. No treating her like a celebrity. He was challenging her, clearly irritated, and it almost made her want to smile.
No one ever treated her like a normal person. So, instead of deflecting his question with a socially neutral answer, she gave him the truth…not intentionally. It just slipped out, because Cole had already dragged her too far from her shell to make it easy to drive back in. "I just wanted to be me," she said quietly.
"You're not Kate Smith. You're Willow Morgan. If you want to be you, why the hell did you say you were Kate Smith?"
"Because…" She paused, realizing that in a way, his question made sense. "I don't want to be gawked at as the Willow Morgan people read about. I just wanted people to see me, as a person," she explained. She glanced at Cole and saw a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. She realized suddenly that he'd done this on purpose. They hadn't come back in to get his hat or his keys. He'd brought her back in to face the crowds who knew her public persona, to keep her from running away from it.
Luc frowned, studying her thoughtfully.
"I didn't want to be judged," she added, trying to explain it better.
Luc grinned suddenly, and his face softened. "I get it, but you don't. It's not like that here."
She blinked. "Like what?"
"It's Mystic, Willow. It's not Hollywood. No one here has any time for the glitz and glam of anyone's life. Plenty of famous, wealthy people come here, and they come here because no one in Mystic cares about any of that shit." He glanced at Cole. "Just like it doesn't matter that he's some big shot now. He's just Cole, and he needs to open his damn inn again." His gaze landed on her. "Give it up, Willow Morgan. No one here cares who your parents are."
She lifted her chin, unwilling to surrender to the hope trying to surge through her. She didn't dare believe him, and then be caught unaware when she realized he was wrong. "They do care. I saw them pointing at me."
He raised his brows. "Yeah, okay, they do care, but not about some Hollywood crap. They care that your fiancé ditched you brutally. You need hugs, not gawking."
She sighed. "It's the same thing." The articles, the pity, the—
Cole nudged her. "No, sweetheart, it's not." He nodded across the room, and she saw Rosie, the woman whose inn she'd crashed, heading right for her.
Willow stiffened as Rosie approached, preparing herself...but the older woman said nothing. She just grabbed Willow around the shoulders and hugged her tightly. For a second, Willow didn't know what to do, then she saw Cole's grinning face. Slowly, awkwardly, Willow raised her arms and hugged her back.
Rosie's grip tightened, and suddenly Willow wanted to cry. Being able to lean on Cole had been special, but there was something about Rosie's hug that made her feel like she'd finally gotten the hug from her mother that she'd spent her life trying to win.
Rosie pulled back, her hands on her shoulders. "Listen to me, girl, and listen good. My no-good husband walked out on me when I had four kids under the age of six. If I didn't have this town to hold me together, I would have gone belly-up. I know it hurts now, but I'll tell you that you're the luckiest girl alive that you found out what he was like before you married him. Cry it out, then chalk it up as a narrow escape, and turn your eyes on the one who's worth it."
Her words were so genuine and heartfelt that tears filled Willow's eyes. "Thank you," she whispered, trying not to cry.
Rosie patted her shoulder. "Be proud that you found your own path. It's not easy to break away from your parents." She glared at Cole. "Of course, it's not always right to sever all your ties to your parents, but either way, it's never easy." Then she smiled at Willow again, a smile so full of warmth and love that it seemed to fill Willow's heart with light. "You bring Cole by for Christmas morning breakfast tomorrow. I doubt he remembers how to cook it the way it should be cooked." She winked at Willow, then turned away to corral a small boy who was trying to climb the Christmas tree at the far end of the room.
Willow stared after her in amazement, then became aware of Cole grinning down at her. "That's the way this place is," he said. "People are real. They care about who you are, not the superficial trappings. It's not just me. It's everyone in this place." He took her hand, and he pressed a kiss to her palm. "This place is your haven, Willow. Relax, and enjoy it."
She smiled, her heart filling up with joy. Cole was right. He'd given her the best Christmas present ever. "I'll relax on one condition," she teased.
His eyebrow quirked. "And what's that?"
"One more dance before we go?"
"You got it." He gave her wrist a tug, and she tumbled against him. As he pulled her into his arms, she felt as if she'd finally found what she'd been looking for…a place to stop, breathe, and experience that elusive peace she'd been searching for her entire life...for a week, until she and Cole both left the island to return to their lives.
How could Cole leave this place? He had his roots, his foundation, and his place of belonging? What was so wrong that he couldn't accept the place that accepted him?
Chapter 10
ON CHRISTMAS MORNING, Cole leaned back in his chair at Rosie's inn, watching Willow chat with the couple seated at the same table. Rosie believed in shared tables on Christmas, and everyone was paired up with another group. They'd been matched with an older couple that he vaguely remembered from his youth. He was pretty sure they'd been coming to this island for at least twenty or thirty years.
Not that they mattered.
He just liked watching Willow. Her eyes were dancing, her smile was genuine, and her happiness was apparent. Her delight when they'd walked into Rosie's dining room had been contagious, drawing his gaze to the holiday decorations. For a brief moment, he'd been shocked into silence, stunned by the depth of his emotional response to the décor. It had thrust him directly back into his childhood, and the Christmas holidays his dad used to create at the inn. Paper snowflakes on the windows, sparkling lights tacked to the moldings, a meticulously decorated tree in the corner. The scent of fresh pine, hot coffee, and eggnog filled the air, and the faint background music of Christmas carols brought back memories he'd long forgotten. Suddenly, he was a kid again, filled with the thrill of Christmas just like he had been so long ago…all because of Willow.
She glanced over at him, and smiled, her eyes twinkling with the intimacy of a lover. He grinned back, thinking of how they'd spent the night making love until dawn. After the dance, they'd gone back to his inn, tumbled into bed, and welcomed the arrival of Christmas in each other's arms.
Wrapped Up In You (A Mystic Island Christmas) Page 8
