“I’d like to change that.”
“Change how I feel about Christmas?” She arched a brow. “I’m not sure that’s possible.”
“I disagree. In fact, I fully expect that—with my expert guidance—by New Year’s Eve, you’ll feel totally different about the holiday season.”
Bemused by his confidence, Carrie smiled. “And how do you propose to do that?”
Nick shrugged a shoulder and leaned back in his chair. Tonight he was wearing another sweater. This one was a light cream color and fit him like a glove. He’d never been beefy, but judging by the contours of his shoulders and chest, he wasn’t a lightweight. “If I tell you, you’ll just say it won’t work. I need you to have an open mind.” When she didn’t respond, he leaned forward, his eyes full of challenge. “Care to give it a try?”
I’d like to give you a try. Flustered, she shook off the mental picture of Nick sans clothing. Snap out of it, Carrie. For the love of God, you’re in Starbucks.
“What did you have in mind?” she asked as her face grew warm.
“It’ll be painless, I swear. In fact, you might even enjoy it. Come on,” Nick cajoled good-naturedly. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t we start with something easy?”
She eyed him with suspicion. “Like what?”
“Like a tree. My father and I are going to get our tree on Saturday morning. Why don’t you join us?”
Carrie shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“I’m not saying you should get a tree, but my mother can’t go with us because of some meeting she can’t get out of. We need a woman’s opinion.” He flashed a disarming grin that was at once both boyish and sexy, and made her insides flutter. “Actually, you’d be doing us a favor.”
Carrie was pretty sure Nick and his father would do just fine picking out a tree themselves, but his imploring brown gaze was hard to resist. There was also the fact that she’d get to spend more time with him. Something she couldn’t deny she wanted to do more of. What was the harm of walking around a Christmas tree lot anyway? It was just a bunch of trees.
“Okay, fine. I’ll go with you.” She saw the triumphant gleam in his eyes and warned, “You didn’t win. I still don’t like Christmas. And I’m sure I never will.”
Nick rubbed his palms together and gave her a sly grin. “Jones, you’re going to eat those words.”
Carrie let out a dubious chuckle. “Yeah. Right. And pigs will fly.”
* * *
It was close to eleven-thirty when Nick walked her to her front door. It was way past her workday bedtime, but Carrie didn’t care. Being with Nick and getting to know him all over again was the best time she’d had in ages. He still had a sly sense of humor, and was intelligent to boot. After their Christmas conversation, they’d touched on a variety of subjects and discovered they both enjoyed the corporate thrillers of Joseph Finder, and when music was the topic, Carrie was surprised that Nick’s taste had evolved from the days when all he listened to was country. Of course, he’d had to razz her for her unwavering devotion to all things ’80s and asked her if she still had her beloved Duran Duran poster on her bedroom wall. When she said yes, he’d regarded her with slack-jawed surprise until he realized she was joking.
All in all, it had been an amazing second date.
“How about nine on Saturday morning?” Nick asked, breath vapors coming from his mouth as he spoke. It was another frigid night in the foothills; if rain had been in the forecast it would be snowing. “We usually stop and get breakfast along the way.”
“Nine works.” She rubbed her gloved hands together to warm them. Even with them on her fingers were stiff.
“Great. We’ll pick you up.” Nick lifted his hands and placed them on her shoulders. “Don’t change your mind, okay?” As he solemnly searched her face, she couldn’t help but inhale the spicy undertones of his cologne. He smelled good...really good. “Give Christmas a chance.” Before she could reply he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. Despite the freezing temperature, his firm lips were warm and then persuasive as he coaxed her mouth open to deepen the kiss.
Stunned by the hot ball of need that erupted low in her belly, Carrie swayed forward, pressing her body against his. He slid his arms around her, anchoring to him, making her completely aware of him in every way. Desire clenched inside her as he notched up the heat. His tongue swept inside her mouth and their kissed turned wet and deep. He tasted of sweetened coffee, and like coffee, she had a strong feeling his kisses could be highly addictive.
By the time he released her, Carrie wasn’t feeling too steady. She opened her eyes, met his smoldering gaze and it was all she could do not to invite him into her house...and into her bed.
“Go inside.” He stepped back and raked a hand though his hair. “It’s cold. I’ll see you on Saturday.”
Carrie nodded mutely and watched him walk to his SUV. Part of her wanted to call him back, but caution overrode desire and instead she pulled her keys from her purse and let herself into the house. Once inside, she headed straight for the bathroom. It didn’t matter that it was twenty-nine degrees outside, a fire burned inside her; the only thing that could put it out was either sex with Nick or a cold shower. Tonight, the shower was her only option.
* * *
Saturday morning, after breakfast at IHOP, Nick navigated his Explorer onto Colfax highway and headed for Cedar Ridge. Beside him sat his father, and in the backseat, Carrie was buckled in and humming along to a Madonna song playing on the ’80s channel of his satellite radio. For the life of him, Nick couldn’t understand why she was a fan of that era’s music. In hindsight, he had to admit there were some good bands back then, like U2, Def Leppard and the Police, but in his opinion, the rest was crap.
“Where are we going to get the tree?” Carrie asked after Madonna faded away and was followed by The Stray Cats. Although he loathed most ’80s music he knew a lot about it from those study sessions with Carrie in high school. She’d always insisted on having music on. He’d thought it odd until he realized she used it to drown out the sound of her parents’ raised voices.
“McBurney’s Tree Farm,” his father replied, shifting in his seat to look at Carrie. “We’ve been getting our Christmas tree there for years. Even when we went to San Francisco for Christmas, Paula and I would drive out to McBurney’s to pick out a tree. It’s a tradition.”
“Be prepared to walk a lot.” Nick kept his eyes on the road. “We don’t just pick the first tree we see. It’s a process.”
“What kind of process?” Carrie asked. Nick glanced in the rearview mirror. It was another cold day and she was wearing the same knit cap she’d been wearing the first day he’d rolled into Grass Valley. Her strawberry-blond hair skimmed her shoulders and each time she moved, it moved, reminding Nick of a shiny curtain. Her green eyes were curious, the wariness gone after an enjoyable breakfast where his father had regaled them with stories of growing up in Chicago. Nick had heard the stories many times, but Carrie’s interest was genuine and by the time the check arrived, his father and Carrie were fast friends. That was unusual—Vince Johnson never much cared for any of the women Nick had dated in San Francisco. Oh, his father had been unfailingly polite, but that was it.
“It can’t be that hard to pick out a tree, right?” Carrie asked, not realizing what was in store for her.
Nick shot an amused glance at his father, who met his gaze and smiled. “Ask me that in about two hours,” Nick said and chuckled at the confused expression on Carrie’s face when he looked back to the mirror.
“Two hours?” she echoed with obvious disbelief. “It takes you two hours to find a tree?”
“One year it took three.” Vince chuckled. “But that was my wife’s fault. It was down to two trees and she couldn’t make up her mind. We sat around for over an hour while she walked back and forth between the two trees.”
“Maybe Mrs. Johnson should be here instead of me. I’d probably pick the first tree and call it a day.”
“She would have joined us except for that training session she’s in charge of,” his father said. “And we have to get the tree this weekend because we’re hosting our holiday party next Saturday.” Vince turned and smiled at Carrie. “I hope you’ll come. We’d love to have you.”
In the rearview, Nick saw Carrie’s hesitation. He’d lay odds that every year she made excuses not to attend Christmas parties or any other holiday festivities. He pictured her hibernating until January. Maybe he could change that. It seemed a shame for her to spend the rest of her life dreading Christmas.
“I’ll check my calendar,” she said by way of an answer. Very clever, Jones, Nick thought with a wry smile. Now all she had to do was say she was otherwise engaged and she’d be off the hook. Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, Nick wondered if he could talk her into attending the party. It might be too much, too soon, though. First he’d see how she did with the tree thing and go from there.
An hour later, under a clear blue sky, Nick trudged down one of the dirt paths searching for either his father or Carrie. McBurney’s was a good-sized tree farm; it was easy to get lost among the rows and rows of trees.
Since it was Saturday, there were a number of people milling around searching for the perfect tree. The air was crisp, and the strong scent of pine mixed with the smell of the campfire near the parking lot filled him with nostalgia. When he was a kid he’d loved these yearly treks to McBurney’s. It was one of the things he’d missed when he’d left home.
“Nick!”
Stopping at the sound of his name, Nick turned around to find Carrie hurrying toward him, her cheeks rosy from the cold and the tempting curves of her body encased in snug jeans and a pale pink ski parka. Just a few nights ago he’d held her in his arms and kissed her. It hadn’t lasted nearly long enough and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Walking to his SUV he’d been hard as a rock. From a kiss, no less.
“I’ve been looking for you,” she said breathlessly as she halted in front of him. “Come with me. Your dad thinks he’s found the perfect tree and he wants you to see it.”
“Is it a Douglas?” Nick asked. He preferred the Douglas fir over the White fir because it was fuller. He hoped his father wasn’t going for the White fir or his mother wouldn’t be happy. She was a Douglas fir fan too.
Carrie shrugged her slim shoulders as a smile lit her face. “It’s a tree. I didn’t get its name.”
Nick laughed and reached up to pull a pine needle from her cap. For someone who’d been hesitant to look for Christmas trees, Carrie seemed to be having fun. Now he just had to convince her to help decorate the tree with him and his parents. If he could accomplish that, then step one of his plan to change Carrie’s mind about Christmas would be complete.
* * *
Carrie accepted the mug of warm apple cider from Nick’s mother. “Thank you, Mrs. Johnson.”
“Call me Paula.” Paula’s light brown eyes, so like Nick’s, flashed with warmth. “Would you mind if I leave you alone for a moment? I want to make sure Vince and Nick bring down the right boxes. The attic is a bit cluttered.”
“No. I don’t mind. Can I help?” Carrie offered.
Paula waved her hand. “You’re fine right there. You need to warm up and, don’t worry, there’ll be plenty for you to do in a few minutes. I’m so glad you decided to stay,” Nick’s mother added with a smile as she sailed out of the family room.
Am I out of my mind? Carrie stared at the Douglas fir Nick and his father had placed in the corner of the Johnsons’ living room and felt an overwhelming desire to flee. It was a cozy and inviting room, filled with photos that portrayed a close and loving family. A fire crackled in the fireplace and above it, the mantel was draped with festive garland twined with small white lights that reminded Carrie of twinkling stars. Three colorful stockings hung from ceramic Santa hooks off the mantel; all three embroidered with each Johnson’s first name.
Sipping her cider, she had to give Nick his due. He’d been clever—asking her if she wanted to stay and help decorate the tree in front of his parents. Then, of course, the Johnsons had thought it a great idea and encouraged her to join them. What could she say after that? Thanks, but no thanks? That would have been rude.
So she’d tough it out. Once the tree was decorated, Nick would drive her home and that would be that. Or would it? She hated to admit it, but she’d had fun today.
An hour later, after it was determined that the Christmas tree lights needed to be replaced, Carrie sat cross-legged on the hardwood floor, rummaging through a cardboard box, and pulled out a small rectangular box with Nick’s name written on it in a childish scrawl.
“Would you like another cup of cider while we wait?” Nick asked from the other side of the room where he was setting up his mother’s Santa Village on an antique credenza near the entrance to the kitchen. “It’ll probably take them an hour to get back with the lights.”
“I’m good for now, thanks.” Carrie held up the box. “What’s in here? It has your name on it.”
Nick glanced at the box. “It’s an ornament I made when I was a kid.”
“May I open it?”
“Sure.” Nick moved from the Santa Village, rounded the sofa and sank down beside her. Close enough for her body to react to his clean male scent. Did he ever not smell good? Today he wore a San Francisco Blaze sweatshirt and faded jeans that fit him all too well. She’d had ample opportunity to check him out today and she’d taken advantage of it—as did a number of other women at the tree farm. And who could blame them? Carrie hadn’t seen one guy at McBurney’s even close to possessing Nick’s classically handsome features. “I should warn you, though, if anything happens to that ornament my mother will put a hit out on you. She loves that thing.”
“Maybe you should open it.” She handed him the box and smiled. “She’s less likely to put a hit out on you.”
“Don’t be too sure about that.” Nick’s fingers brushed hers as he took the box; the innocent touch was enough to send a lick of heat through her. She needed to stop thinking about the kiss they’d shared after their date. That it was affecting her days later was ridiculous.
Nick pulled the lid from the box and set it on the floor. Next came a protective covering of white tissue paper, and then he removed the ornament.
“What is it?” Carrie peered at the ornament, not quite sure what to make of it. From what she could see, it was as if a Styrofoam ball had been cut in half and each half had been attached to a clear cylindrical tube no more than five inches in length. Where the Styrofoam met the cylinder on each end, red felt ribbon had been glued around the tube. A gold loop was attached to one end; Nick hooked his finger into the loop and held up the ornament.
“Look inside.”
“Is that a reindeer?” She leaned closer and squinted. “It is,” she said with amazement. “And the cotton ball he’s standing on is supposed to be snow, right?”
“Yep.”
“And look at the tiny plastic trees,” Carrie said, marveling at the miniature scene depicted inside the cylinder. “You made this?”
“When I was eight.” Nick replaced the ornament gently into its box. “My mom signed me up for some arts and craft kits that came by mail and I’d get one each month. This was one of the kits. She sat with me and read the instructions.” He set the box on the coffee table behind him. “It took a few hours because I wanted to do it by myself.” His eyes softened. “And she let me even though I’m sure she could have put it together in twenty minutes.”
Unbidden, tears pricked Carries eyes. “You have wonderful parents,” she said, averting her gaze to the fireplace. She blinked and bit her lip. Feeling sorry for herself wasn’t something she indulged in too often. But she couldn’t help it. Nick had won the parental lottery, and she hadn’t. Eleven months out of the year she handled it pretty well. Not so much in December. “You’re lucky.”
For several seconds the only sound in the room was the crackle and pop of the fire
.
“My mom told me about your dad,” Nick said softly.
Surprised, she looked at him. His expression was somber but, thank God, there was no pity in his eyes. She couldn’t take that. “Then you know how...how he died?”
“Yes. I’m so sorry.”
“It was just a matter of time.” Carrie shrugged. “He’d been threatening to do it for years. Always around Christmas.”
“That’s why you hate the holidays.”
Carrie nodded. “Even before he died, I dreaded this time of year.” She wiped the moisture from the corners of her eyes and dried her fingers on her jeans. “I didn’t understand it when I was a kid and I still don’t. He drank all year long, but it got worse around the holidays and that’s when he would make comments about killing himself.”
“Did you ever ask your mother about it?”
“I tried, but either she didn’t know or wouldn’t tell me. She was as messed up as my father. Still is.” She paused and shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this. I don’t dwell on it that much anymore. I’ve moved past it...except...”
“At Christmas,” Nick said and lifted his hand to stroke her cheek. His touch was gentle and comforting. “You must think I’m an ass for talking you into this tree excursion today.”
“I don’t,” Carrie admitted. “I enjoyed walking around McBurney’s with you and your dad. I’ve never done that before. The few times my mother brought home a tree my dad would eventually destroy it in a drunken rage. After the last time, no matter how much I pleaded and begged, my mother refused to get another tree.”
“If this—” Nick glanced at the tree, then back at her, “—is too much, I can take you home before my mom and dad get back.”
Touched by his sensitivity, she smiled. “If you’d offered an hour ago, I would have taken you up on it, but I’d like to stay. I haven’t decorated a tree since I was ten years old.”
“That’s a long time,” Nick said and lightly feathered his fingers against her cheek one last time before lowering his hand. “Do you think you might want to engage in some other holiday activities?”
For My Own: A Contemporary Christmas Anthology Page 4
