by Caro Carson
“The burning of the Yule log was a winter purification ritual. To atone for all your carnal sins, you could speak them into the greenery, toss them on the log, burn them up and start the new year as chaste and pure as the winter snow.”
“I doubt Masterson is ready to have all its residents whispering their dirty secrets into pine boughs.”
They’d reached the table. There were only a few scraps of paper and those ubiquitous golf pencils left. The donation jar was nearly full. It was about to get a one-hundred-dollar bill, anyway. Eli took a moment to fold it so Mallory wouldn’t see the number on the bill.
“Don’t I know you from somewhere?”
Eli froze at the too-familiar question.
“I’m sure I’ve seen you before,” the female table attendant cooed. “Masterson is such a small town.”
He kept his head down, folding the money slowly, not yet, not like this, please don’t let Mallory find out like this.
“I’m not from Masterson.” He didn’t make eye contact with the woman as he placed the bill in the donation jar. He knocked a few pencils off the table and bent to get them, buying time, not yet.
Mallory’s arms came around his neck from behind before he’d stood halfway back up. What was she doing?
“I’m ready for my piggyback ride,” she announced.
Ah. He played along. It had been over a decade, but it was like riding a bicycle to stoop low, reach a hand back behind each of her knees and stand.
Mallory lurched over his shoulder awkwardly, a move that let her arm block his face while she chatted up the attendant. “He came to town just for my birthday. He’s the best.”
Did Mallory know he might be recognized? Did she already know?
The attendant sounded cooler. “Well, good luck.”
“Let’s go,” Mallory muttered.
“Aren’t you supposed to take a piece of paper?” Eli muttered back.
“I got one before I met you tonight. It’s been in my pocket this whole time.”
“Then what was the tip for?” Not that he’d miss it, but he only had so many hundred-dollar bills on him.
“I didn’t tell you to put money in the jar. If you don’t want to make a wish, just grab some greenery. I’m sure you have a carnal sin or two in your past you can whisper into it.”
“Nothing to repent.”
“Sounds boring. You can wish for a more exciting year.” She reached down and grabbed a pine bough. “Giddy-up.”
He carried her closer to the fire, relieved, exasperated, loving the weight of her on his back, hating the blinding yellow blaze in the night. It was hard to ruminate over it—or anything—with Mallory’s arms around his neck.
“You’re choking me.”
“Sorry.” She let go and slid down his back to a stand.
He turned around to face her the second her toes touched the ground. “Why did you do that? Hide my face?”
Please, God, let her have known all along.
He would kiss her right this second if she said she hadn’t wanted the public to recognize him, if she’d known all along he was E.L. Taylor—if that man was the one she meant each time she said You’re mildly funny.
“I was trying to substitute for your coffee cup.”
“You...what?”
“Whew. This fire is really putting out some heat.” She twirled the pine bough, peeking up at him as she spoke. “You used your cup to hide your face tonight, more than once. You didn’t want to walk down the row of booths. You kept leaning back on the branch to keep your face in the tree trunk’s shadow. When you knocked those pencils off the table, I knew you weren’t comfortable with someone seeing your face. It’s not a big deal to me. I wanted to help.”
She didn’t know who he was.
“That was—” It was so hard to keep the disappointment out of his voice. “That was very thoughtful of you.”
It had been very generous of her to use her own body to shield him through an imagined phobia.
It was the wrong type of anxiety: he was using her to feel alive in the presence of a bright fire and a black night. He was using her to avoid being E.L. Taylor, the man who’d so ruthlessly killed off all the parts of his life that hadn’t fit his vision of being the man who had it all.
He didn’t.
Eli had more. Eli had piggyback rides. One-dollar cocoa. Tree branches and silly conversations. Darkness and seductive conversations. The ability to soothe a friend when she felt so sad, she cried. Eli had received a single, real kiss. But it was all too new, too fragile to hold on to if he lost her. He would fall right back into being E.L. Taylor.
“I don’t know why you hide your face,” Mallory said, brushing his cheek with the pine bough to catch his attention. “It’s a very handsome face, and even the thickest beard and shaggiest hair can’t change that. Your eyes will always be Paul Newman blue. I hope you add laugh lines. Not frown lines.”
She did not know just how fake of a fake boyfriend he was. He was going to have to tell her and kill a perfect night. But, before they parted ways, he was going to kiss Mallory—he was, not this imaginary Eli.
Me, kissing you, no games.
Unless she slapped him in his handsome face, called him the liar he was and walked away.
He did have a wish, after all.
I wish this evening could have a better ending than I deserve.
Chapter Eleven
Never abandon a good plan.
—How to Taylor Your Business Plan
by E.L. Taylor
There was a crowd around the white picket fence.
The adult crowd took turns pelting the Yule log with their wishes—or trying to. The heat of the fire created its own little wind system, which caught the ribbons and leaves on the papers and diverted them from their target. People lingered after throwing their wishes to watch the crazy acrobatics their neighbors’ wishes performed.
Eli would have to snake his way through the crowd to get Mallory up to the fence for her throw. He felt the danger of it. Don’t I know you from somewhere?
“I don’t want to join their reindeer games,” Mallory said. “Let’s go around the sandpit to the other side. It’s too hot this close to the fire, anyway.” She unbuttoned her pink coat and started walking, certain he wouldn’t disagree, probably certain he would be relieved.
Eli gritted his teeth at her thinly veiled attempt to shield him from a weakness he didn’t have. But, since he did need to avoid the crowd if he wanted to have her all to himself, he could say nothing.
He escorted her along the long line of volleyball courts with a hand at the small of her back. Her coat was unbuttoned, but the double-breasted peacoat style didn’t fall open. Still, he got a glimpse of a thin, white sweater underneath, a delicious peep, as erotic as catching a glimpse of lingerie.
“You know...” She was uncharacteristically hesitant. “My friend who’s coming to MU next semester...? He’s got a lot of good tips for how to make plans to handle obstacles when they arise.”
That bastard. Eli prayed he never saw the two of them together, her and her little Ohio friend strolling across the campus.
“Like what?” he asked. “Don’t cry? Forget they’re there?”
She snapped her mouth shut at his caustic questions.
Damn it. He hated that guy.
“Does he even have any accreditation in psychology or psychiatry?” Eli asked. Never take advice without considering the source.
“No. Do you?”
He frowned at her petulant tone. “I’m not the one who is advising people on how to deal with their families and handle their emotions. If he doesn’t have credentials, then he’s a quack with all that ‘Don’t cry’ stuff.”
“Yes, you are advising me how to feel. You just advised me to distrust his advice, although his advice is working for m
e. I think it could help you, too.”
“The face thing isn’t what you think it is. I’m okay there.” He had issues everywhere else.
“He wrote a book,” Mallory said, an earnest disciple defending a god. “I hate that I called you a man without inspiration. I hate that you agreed it was true. Maybe you’d be inspired by the same book that inspired me.”
Eli stopped and looked at her closely, wanting to see every nuance in her expression. He had a memory for detail, and he knew how she’d looked just before she’d pitched that crumpled cup at the barrel and cried over Cinderella. She looked almost as frustrated again, now.
“This guy is your hero, isn’t he?” Eli was jealous. Flamingly, blazingly jealous.
“His book changed my life. He’s going to be a featured author this semester. You don’t have to be a student to go to a book signing. You could come with me and meet him, too.”
“Meet him, too? You’ve never met him?” All that searing jealousy was smothered so quickly that Eli laughed in relief. “Who is he? Dr. Phil?”
She rolled her eyes.
He reached out to tug down her ski cap. “Never meet your heroes. It’s one of the oldest adages around for a reason. He can’t live up to your expectations. He’s going to disappoint you. It always happens that way.”
Ask any entrepreneur who couldn’t convince me to invest in his start-up.
She fixed her hat as if he hadn’t straightened it right. “I’m not going to meet him as my hero. I’m going to meet him as his equal.”
“You’re Dr. Phil’s equal?”
She turned on her heel and marched off, a complete ninety-degree turn from where they’d been headed.
“Whoa. No, no, no—I didn’t mean it like that.” He caught her and turned her in his arms to look into her eyes, because if he’d made her cry again, he was going to hate himself.
She looked furious, thank God.
“I don’t appreciate you laughing at me.”
“I wasn’t, I swear I wasn’t.” He caught her to him in a quick hug, then held her just a little way from himself, cupping her face in his two hands. He ran his thumbs over her perfectly beautiful, perfectly dry cheeks. His thumbs had to feel cold to her, because her cheeks were warm, like her heart. Her personality.
Warm. It wasn’t an emotion. It was this woman.
“I’m laughing at the idea that he could be your equal. Nobody can compare to this person I’m looking at right now. You’re like a bright piece of a star in this world. I was standing alone in the dark tonight, and this star just dropped out of nowhere and landed right beside me, and I’m so damned lucky that I got to be with you.” He kissed the cold cheek under his thumb. He kissed her nose, he kissed the corner of her eye, which should only earn laugh lines in her life.
“Eli.” She said his name like a litany. “Eli, Eli.”
It’s Taylor. He froze as he was, cupping her face in his hands. It’s Taylor, the man who’s been lying to you. The man who divides his time between Manhattan and Tokyo, not a college town. The man who wears suits and ties, who has a sharp haircut, a shaved face. I have no friends. I’ve lost touch with my family. I’ve been crippling myself emotionally to fulfill my business goals, and I didn’t realize it until I plunged from the sky into a lake.
“Eli.” She had stars in her eyes as she touched his face, too. “It might work out? It might? There is no way you can say these beautiful things to me and think that I wouldn’t change my plans to be sure they included you.”
The stars in her eyes were the reflection of the bonfire at his back. It could warm him, or it could burn him.
It’s Taylor.
He rested his forehead on hers. “I don’t know how to make this night turn into something real.”
“You know how. You said it yourself. You just kiss me, and I’m yours. Me, kissing you, no games.”
She was right. The game was over. To hell with Eli and screw Taylor, he was just himself, a man who wanted this woman. Now.
“Come with me.” He grabbed her by the hand and headed into the darkness.
“To where?”
Somewhere private. He was going to have to tell her who he was, and then he was going to kiss her with everything real he had, until she couldn’t think about his lies or his money or anything but him.
Afterward, he was never going to let her go. He had money, damn it. He could get anything he wanted, even a girl who thought Prince Charming would still be her choice if he were poor.
There was nowhere private to go in this park. Every tree had a couple under it, every bench was being used by the adults of Masterson, who weren’t as wholesome as he’d thought. The hay bales were too far away, but it was a sure thing that another couple had already found dark privacy behind them, anyway.
“Right here.” He stopped in the open field and turned to her in the dark, stepping close, ready to give her his real identity in the quickest and most passionate confession he could manage, but she didn’t wait for the first word.
Mallory kissed him. She pulled him close, holding him tightly, stepping on his foot in her rain boot.
He didn’t care. Her coat was open, so he could slip his arms around her waist for the first time. After a night of thick denim and thicker wool between them, this was so much more access, so much more to touch, that it felt like a great intimacy to feel the curve of her waist under the softness of a white sweater.
They deepened the kiss, mouths opening, tongues mating, tasting, wanting more.
“All right, folks. That’s enough. Park closes in half an hour.”
They broke the kiss and turned toward the voice, still clinging to one another tightly. Eli cursed in disbelief. A uniformed officer was walking toward them with his arms wide open, herding all of the kissing couples out of their cozy hideaways.
“Take it on home, everybody. We’re closing this part of the park. Head toward the main gate, folks. Last call at the beer tents. Don’t drink if you’re driving.”
“Oh, my God.” Mallory squeezed Eli so hard her voice came out in a squeak. “We’re going to get arrested for public indecency.”
With a burst of laughter, Eli picked her up and spun her around under the stars.
“Don’t make me dizzy. I’ve never tried to outrun a cop before.”
“Let’s go. I know a place we can use as our hideout.” He set her down and took her hand. He’d take her to his rented house. He’d tell her everything there, and then he’d make love to her for hours in a four-poster bed, until the sun rose over the lake. Someday, when they made love by the Aegean Sea, they’d agree the lake had looked more beautiful.
Mallory tugged him in the direction of the bonfire. “I don’t care where we go, as long as I get to make my wish first.”
“As you wish.”
“You’re getting funnier.”
They stopped at the edge of the sandpit to the side of the fire, away from the crowd, and she pulled her paper wish out of her pocket, holding up a folded square with a pine cone tied to it. “You’ll notice I don’t have any greenery on mine.” She lowered the paper and said in a stage whisper, “Very boring year.” Then she held up the pine cone again. “I wrote this when I first got here, hoping for a more exciting semester, because my friend would be on campus and everything.”
“Yes, the inimitable Dr. Phil.”
“Very funny.” She bumped him with her shoulder, a move he hoped she repeated ten thousand more times in his life. “But I can tell it’s going to be a more exciting year than I dreamed. I’ve already narrowly escaped the cops.”
He wanted her in every way, all at once. He wanted her body under his hands—hurry up. He wanted to stay here and flirt over wishes—take your time. He wanted her, full stop.
“Does the pine cone represent any other type of overindulgence in your near future?” he asked with a wink.<
br />
“A pine cone means I passed my science classes, and I understand the concept of aerodynamics. Those green boughs are like fans. Everyone’s missing when they throw tonight because they’re trying to throw fans. This will make a better missile.”
The air near the sandpit was swirling as the fire’s heat hit the cold air. One of those swirls took the paper right out of Mallory’s hand. She tried to grab it. Missed. The pine cone pulled it down to land with a thunk in the sandpit.
“Serves me right for bragging,” she said.
“I’ve got it.” Eli crouched down and reached for it, only one corner close enough to touch with his fingertips. He snagged it and shook the sand off, making it unfold. As he turned toward Mallory, her handwriting was clear in the firelight, simple words written in dark pencil lead.
I hope E.L. Taylor will like me.
He stared at it.
His first thought was Of course, I do.
But he hadn’t told her his real name yet.
His second thought was She knew all along, thank God.
But she hadn’t. She would have told him when she’d helped him hide his face.
He finally saw the truth. Her hero was him. Her book was his book.
It couldn’t be. He didn’t mention families. He didn’t tell anyone not to cry. What the hell would that have to do with business planning?
Never show your doubts to the world.
He’d written that, yes, but he hadn’t meant that she shouldn’t talk about her worries with her own grandfather, for God’s sake. She was going to be so embarrassed when he taught that chapter. He’d seen the two years of tears she’d bottled up by mistake. He’d touched them with the fingertips that held this paper.
She snatched the paper away. “You didn’t read it, did you? If you tell anyone your birthday wish, it won’t come true. It’s not that I’m superstitious, but I want everything to go just right next semester. Two years is a big investment.” Mallory was blushing now, her color high in the bonfire’s light.
If she only knew... But she’d know soon enough, and it would change everything for her, for him, for them, even more harshly than he’d known it would.
