by Cindy Kirk
Her eyes lingered on the cup of steaming cider he’d placed on the coffee table for her. “You sure know your way to my heart.”
“You deserve it,” he said.
Cole smiled when she immediately lifted the mug and took a sip.
Slipping one leg beneath her, she settled back on the sofa. “We both deserve it.”
“True. But you’re the one who took charge of Charlie this evening.” Although Cole had wanted to care for his son, he knew she was best suited for the job. While his leg was much improved, getting a sick little boy into the shower and washing him up would have been difficult.
“I actually had the easy part,” Meg said, sounding surprisingly sincere. “You had—” she grimaced “—to clean up the kitchen.”
“You’re right,” he said with a decisive nod. “I deserve an extra cinnamon stick for taking on that lovely task.”
Her laughter washed over him, as refreshing as a soothing tonic. Cole sank back into the leather cushions and decided if he ignored the fact Charlie had gotten sick, it had been a good day.
If Charlie was going to become ill anywhere, Cole was glad it had happened when the boy was surrounded by doctors and nurses Cole trusted. Having Travis check him out and David verify the symptoms matched a virus that was making its rounds in the area had reassured Cole it wasn’t anything too serious.
Now his son was in bed and hopefully would get a good night’s sleep and feel a whole lot better in the morning.
Which meant Cole and Meg had time to unwind. The cider tasted as good as it smelled. The crackling fire took any chill from the air. Even in running pants and a T-shirt, Cole was comfortable.
“What kind of music is that?” Meg propped one stocking- clad foot up on the rustic coffee table.
“New age stuff.” Cole waved a hand. “I thought about putting in a different CD but the melody is growing on me.”
She cocked her head and listened for a few seconds. “You’re right. Reminds me of a Gregorian chants CD I own, except with instruments. Definitely soothing and restful.”
Cole had a feeling it wasn’t simply the music from the lute Meg was reacting to, but the golden glow from the lamplight which complemented the warmth of the fire. The potpourri she’d brought home last week from the store also added to the ambience.
He’d teased her when she’d filled festive Christmas bowls and told him she was going to scatter them throughout the house. Now, the scent of peppermint mixed with cinnamon filled the air. Somehow, his house had begun to feel an awful lot like a home.
“I’m sorry we had to leave the party so abruptly,” Meg said, taking another sip of cider. “You didn’t even get to sample any of that scrumptious food Lexi made.”
“I have to admit I had my eye on the poached salmon.” Cole raised his cup to his lips but didn’t take a drink. “Other than that, I didn’t mind leaving. I’ve never been much for parties.”
Meg chortled. “Don’t give me that. In high school you had a reputation for being quite a party animal.”
Cole tightened his fingers around the mug’s handle. “Let’s just say I never missed an opportunity to go where food was being served.”
“Food?” Meg’s eyebrow lifted. “What did that have to do with anything?”
It had everything to do with it, Cole thought. In fact, tonight, seeing the bountiful buffet table had brought back memories of those lean years. But they were in the past. No longer did it hurt to recall them.
“Are you sure it wasn’t the liquid refreshments that drew you to those high school parties?” Meg asked with a teasing smile. “C’mon, you can tell me.”
“I rarely drank back then.” Cole shrugged. “I couldn’t afford to get caught and kicked off the team. Plus seeing how booze ruled my stepfather’s life made me determined to not go down that same road.”
“Well, I never got invited to the parties, so drinking wasn’t an issue for me.” Meg laughed. “I think Travis made up for me. From what I heard, he did a good job representing the family at those kind of events.”
Cole simply smiled.
“Are you hungry?” she asked abruptly. “There’s leftover chicken salad in the fridge. I could make us a sandwich.”
While Charlie hadn’t appeared impressed by the tarragon chicken salad Meg had made yesterday—asking for PB&J instead—Cole had thought it was terrific.
“Sure. But I can—” He started to push himself up from the sofa, but Meg waved him back down.
“Let me,” she said. “It’ll only take a sec.”
Before he had a chance to protest she was already on her way to the kitchen. It seemed like she’d barely left when she returned with a sandwich for each of them and fruit. Cole realized he must be hungrier than he’d initially thought, because the chicken salad on nine-grain bread and the cut-up apple slices with fruit dip looked like a feast.
“Wow,” he said, taking the plate she handed him. “Very nice. Thanks.”
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re easy to please?”
Cole thought for a second then shook his head. “Only you.”
He was still chewing when Meg placed her sandwich back on her plate.
“Why did you go to parties for the food?” she asked. “That doesn’t make sense to me.”
Cole slowly swallowed and didn’t immediately respond.
“This is probably me worrying about nothing, but when I was getting the food together, I realized you’d made a statement and I just glossed over it. I think I do that a lot.”
Two bright spots of color dotted her cheeks.
Cole knew he could make up something that answered her question but told her nothing. Or he could tell her the truth.
“Food matters,” Cole said, “if you don’t have enough to eat.”
“Not enough to eat?” Meg pulled her brows together. She’d asked a simple question and he’d given her a riddle. “Why wouldn’t you have had enough to eat? Your stepdad had a job.”
Meg knew that for a fact. She’d seen Wally stocking shelves at the big-box store out on the highway with her own two eyes. She and Cole had been seeing each other at the time and she’d recognized the grizzled mountain-of-a-man as his stepfather. Instead of speaking, she’d walked on by and acted as if she didn’t know him.
Now, looking back, she realized that had been rude. Of course, if she was ever granted a “do-over” on her teenage years there would be a lot of things she’d do differently. Knowing the man he’d become, Meg was sure Cole felt the same way.
“You’re right. Wally did have a job. When he decided to show up, that is.” Cole’s eyes were dark and unreadable in the dim light. “But any money he earned went for booze and cigarettes and gambling, in that order. Having food in the house for two kids who weren’t even his wasn’t a necessity for him.”
“Oh, Cole. I’m so sorry. I—”
“Don’t.” He reached over and took her hand. “I didn’t tell you about my past to garner sympathy, only so you would understand.”
His hand was warm and testosterone wafted off him in waves. Meg could have sat there all night, holding his hand, looking into his eyes, but all too soon he pulled his fingers away and sat back.
“I’d like us to get to know each other better.” He dipped an apple slice into the fruit dip but didn’t immediately bring it to his mouth. “To do that we have to be honest.”
Meg experienced a jolt of déjà vu. Hadn’t they already had this discussion? Yes, she was positive they had. “You’re right. The better things are between us, the better it will be for Charlie.”
Cole placed the uneaten apple slice back on his plate and turned slightly to face her. “It’s not Charlie I’m thinking of....”
The air turned heavy with longing and Meg found herself drowning in the blue of his eyes. She reached out her hand and his warm fingers closed around hers again. This time she had the feeling he wasn’t going to let go. Which suited her fine.
“Cole,” Meg began, not sure what she mea
nt to say. But it didn’t matter because one of the two cell phones on the coffee table chose that moment to go off.
She heaved a resigned sigh and met Cole’s gaze.
“Is that yours?” she asked. “Or mine?”
A sheepish look crossed his face. “I’m not sure.”
It hadn’t taken them long to realize that not only did they possess the same smart phone—great minds obviously think alike and all that—but each phone had been programmed with the same basic ringtone. While he’d promised to change his, his response told her that task was still on his “to-do” list.
Regardless, the jarring ring had shattered the moment. Cole glanced at the display screen then handed the phone to her. “Your phone. Your brother.”
She took the cell from his hands and shot him an apologetic look. “It’s Zac. I really need to take this.”
“Of course,” he said. “Do you want privacy?”
“Not at all. Stay right where you are.” She clicked on the call. After several seconds of “can you hear me now?” the connection finally improved.
“It didn’t even sound like you,” Zac said. “I thought at first I’d reached some guy.”
“Well, my voice may be a bit low but no one has mistaken me for a man before,” Meg said with a smile. “Happy almost-Christmas, Zac. How are things with you?”
“I’ve been better.” For the first time, Meg picked up on the strain in her brother’s voice.
“What’s wrong, honey?” she asked, falling back into that “mother” role with him. She had no idea whether he would share what was troubling him or skirt around the issue, but at least she had to try.
Growing up, Zac had been a closed book. It had been very difficult for her to “read” him. Yet, for the strain to be audible, whatever was going on must be serious. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cole look up from the newspaper he’d picked up and was pretending to read.
“I’m with Elisabeth’s family for Christmas,” he said. “That’s what’s wrong.”
A shower of static drowned out the rest of his words. “Zac. I can’t hear you. Call me back on the landline.”
Meg quickly rattled off Cole’s home number before the call was lost.
Cole lifted a brow. “Bad connection?”
Meg blew out a frustrated breath. “What else is new?”
She wondered if Zac would call back. It wouldn’t surprise her if he didn’t, but seconds later, the cordless phone rang.
“Sorry ’bout that,” Meg said in lieu of a greeting when she picked up the handset.
“No need to apologize to me. I used to live in Jackson Hole,” Zac reminded her in that brash manner she always associated with him. “I know all about the crappy cell reception in the mountains.”
“Okay,” Meg said with a laugh. “Apology retracted. Now, who’s Elisabeth? And what are you doing spending the holidays with her family?”
“Elisabeth—Lissa—is my girlfriend,” Zac said. “We’ve been together for a while now.”
“It must be serious.” As far as Meg remembered, this was the first time Zac had ever given her the name of a girl he was dating.
“I love her and she loves me,” Zac said in a matter-of-fact tone. “We have a baby. His name is Henry. He’s two months old.”
“Henry was the child you were thinking of leaving when we last talked.” Meg immediately regretted the comment. A wise woman knew to always gather her thoughts before blurting out something she might—make that, did—regret.
“I don’t know where you got that idea. I’d never leave my son.” An edge of steel ran through Zac’s tone. “Never.”
This time Meg took a second to consider her response.
“Of course you wouldn’t,” she said in a soothing tone, ignoring Cole’s curious glance. “You and Lissa must be serious if you have a baby and are spending Christmas with her family.”
For everyone’s sake, she hoped it was serious. Though Meg was a thoroughly modern woman, she still believed little Henry would do best with both his mother and his father in his life.
“Lissa is an only child,” Zac informed her. “She couldn’t bear the thought of us not seeing her mom and dad at Christmas.”
“Her being close to her parents is a good thing,” Meg said slowly, gingerly finding her way. Those years of raising teenagers had schooled her in the dangers of making suppositions.
“It might be if they thought I was the right man for her,” he said in a flat tone. “But they don’t.”
Meg fought against a motherly surge of indignation. Any family would be lucky to have her brother in it.
“Then they must not know you well enough,” Meg said in a conciliatory tone, sincerely hoping that was their only reservation. “Because if they did know you, they’d love you like I do.”
“Love.” Zac gave a little laugh. “Right now I’d settle for like.”
“Zac,” Margaret began but stopped when she heard her brother talking to someone in the background.
“Margaret,” he said after a couple of seconds, “I need to run. Have yourself a Merry Christmas with your new family. You deserve a little happiness of your own.”
“Wait, Zac, don’t go. When are you going to call again?” Meg asked quickly before he could hang up. “I’d love to figure out a time when I can see you, meet Lissa and hold my new nephew.”
“Soon,” Zac said, then the line went dead.
Meg held the phone for several seconds before clicking off, trying to assimilate what she’d just heard.
“Everything okay?” Cole asked.
“My brother has a girlfriend and a baby, a little boy.” Meg still found herself unable to wrap her mind around the thought that Zac was a father. “The baby’s name is Henry, same as our dad.”
Her lips curved upward. For a man who seemed to prefer the less traditional route in life, Zac naming his firstborn after their father spoke volumes.
“Does Travis know?”
“I have no idea who Zac has told.” Meg rubbed a hand across her face. She didn’t want to talk about her brother. Not now anyway. She tilted her head. “What were we talking about before he called?”
“How much I enjoy being with you.”
“Yeah, right.”
“How beautiful you are.” Cole leaned forward, catching up pieces of her hair, rubbing the shiny auburn strands between his thumb and forefinger. “How incredibly sexy…”
Meg’s breath caught in her throat and her heart fluttered. This man definitely knew how to change a subject.
“There wasn’t one woman at that party as gorgeous as you,” he said in a deep husky voice.
Staring into the liquid blue of his eyes Meg almost believed him. Despite knowing that she could be over her head in seconds, there was something that drew her to him, that tempted her to take a step off the firm shore of what she’d always known and take a chance.
Before she knew what was happening, his mouth brushed hers, as soft as butterfly wings and just as gentle. Her lips were still tingling when he sat back. But if he thought he could get by with a drive-by kiss, he didn’t know her as well as he thought he did.
Meg scooted close and wound her arms around his neck. “Lexi’s house had mistletoe everywhere. When we were leaving I found myself thinking that it was a shame.” She pulled her lips together to form a pout. “No kisses for Meg beneath the mistletoe this year.”
Perhaps she should have stopped there. But she was having too much fun. She placed the back of her hand against her forehead and heaved a melodramatic sigh. “Poor, poor Meg.”
She expected Cole to laugh. To her surprise, his expression turned solemn. “Are you telling me you’d have kissed me at the party, in front of all those people?”
“Well, I wouldn’t have gone crazy and stuck my tongue in your mouth, if that’s what’s worrying you,” Meg said with a throaty chuckle. “But you bet your cup of cider I’d have kissed you underneath the mistletoe.”
A pleased look filled his ey
es and his hand slid up her neck, getting tangled in her hair. “If you had kissed me, I’d have kissed you back. Just. Like. This.”
Meg didn’t have time to react when suddenly his lips were on hers. A firm kiss that let her know it wasn’t going to end anytime soon. A surge of desire rose inside her. Her breasts tingled and an ache took up residence low in her belly.
As they continued to kiss, the weight of his body pushed her down onto the cushions. Moving from her mouth, his lips traced the line of her jaw, his breath warm against her throat. She shivered and arched her neck, reveling in the fiery sensations sweeping like an out-of-control wildfire through her body.
Meg wanted Cole in a way she couldn’t ever remember wanting anyone before.
His hand closed over her breast just as a plaintive voice filtered down the stairs.
“Mommy. Daddy,” Charlie called. “My tummy hurts.”
Cole’s hand stilled.
Meg’s eyes met his. Her lips quirked upward. “Busted.”
He grinned. “Again.”
With a sigh of regret Meg pulled to her feet.
“Is he calling for Janae and Ty?” Cole pushed himself upright. “Or for us?”
“Does it matter?”
“Good point.”
“I’m coming, sweetie,” she called out loudly enough to reach the top of the stairs.
To her surprise Cole struggled to his feet. “I’m coming with you.”
“But the stairs…”
“Don’t worry. I won’t slow you down,” he said. “I’ll follow.”
“But—”
“I want to be there,” Cole said. “I want Charlie to know that while you’re there for him, I am, too. We’re a family, after all.”
Family. Meg sure liked the sound of that word.
Contentment slid through her veins like warm honey. She crooked her arm through Cole’s. “On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“If Charlie wants me to sing him to sleep like he did before, you have to promise not to laugh.”
Chapter Fourteen
