A Coldwater Warm Hearts Christmas

by Lexi Eddings

  “She didn’t blow me off last time. Something came up with one of her students,” Seth grumbled. Angie hadn’t told him what, but at the time he’d figured it must be something pretty important or she wouldn’t have sent him packing.

  Now he wasn’t so sure.

  “Yeah, well, last time you came on home and you and me tucked into them lobster tails together, so’s they wouldn’t go to waste,” Lester said. “Now you tell me you want me to take them home to the missus.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “My Glenda hates them things. Claims they stink up the house. Never argue with a woman when she says something stinks,” Lester said sagely. “They got way better noses than us guys do.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” Seth said. “But they don’t have better judgment.”

  “Well, I might beg to differ with you there.” Lester picked up a putty knife and began spackling over a few nail holes Seth had missed. “You’re slippin’ a little, son. These nails here are poking their heads out. It’s not like you to miss stuff.”

  “I’ve been doing a lot of that lately.” He’d missed a lot of things. Like how different he and Angie were. She was book smart. His intelligence ran toward reading blueprints and crunching numbers. He had a big extended family and it was fine with him. She was alone in the world and didn’t seem to be in any hurry to let anyone into her aloneness.

  “A woman can mess with a man’s head sometimes. Makes him sloppy when he’s thinking about her all the time,” Lester conceded. “But usually, women make us better versions of ourselves. God knows my Glenda waited long enough for me to clean up my act.”

  “Yeah, well, my act is clean enough already.” Seth was a straight arrow and made no apologies for it. “What you see is what you get. Maybe Angie just doesn’t like what she sees.”

  “Maybe, but I doubt it,” Lester said. “You’re quite the catch. I hear what folks are saying, and ever’body who comes into the Grill says so.”

  Seth snorted. “Everybody except Angie Holloway. She can’t seem to stay away from her ex.”

  “That feller from DC?”

  “Yeah. Except he can’t seem to stay in DC.”

  “She shut him out at the Green Apple this morning,” Lester said. “He was all hot to take her to dinner tonight, but she told him no.”

  “She just didn’t mean it,” Seth said, refusing to be encouraged by Lester’s story.

  “Not that I’m one to carry tales, but the guy was pretty insistent. Said he had something important she’d want to know about, so if she wouldn’t let him take her to dinner, would she just meet him for a drink.”

  “So that’s what she did.” Seth stopped working long enough to shoot a glare in Lester’s direction. “What if I was out throwing back brews with an old girlfriend? Would that be okay, you think?”

  “Well, I think it would depend on why you was there with your old girlfriend,” Lester said. “My sense of what passed between the Teach and that DC feller, not that I was eavesdrop-pin’ or anything—”

  “No, of course not,” Seth said with a roll of his eyes.

  “Any-hoo, I got the feeling she agreed just to get away from him,” Lester said. “I may not be much for readin’ books, but I’m pretty good at readin’ people. Angie wasn’t fiddlin’ with her hair or leaning toward him or doing any of the things women do when they’re interested in a guy.”

  “No?”

  “No,” Lester said emphatically. “In fact, she was in an all-fired hurry to leave the Grill when he cornered her. Maybe she said yes to be polite. Women are like that.”

  “Angie isn’t the sort to do something she doesn’t want to do.”

  “Really? Wasn’t it you who was tellin’ me about how she felt roped into doing the pageant, but couldn’t figure out how to get out of it without offending somebody?”

  “Yeah,” Seth admitted.

  “Maybe her ex knows she’s like that, not wantin’ to be ornery to nobody, and he took advantage of her good nature.”

  “Well, she doesn’t have any trouble saying no to me,” Seth said.

  “That’s ’cause she thinks you’re safe.”

  “Safe. Makes me sound like a toothless old spaniel. Maybe I should be dangerous for a change.” Angie’s book, Sense and Sensibility, popped into his head. No matter how steady, how reliable Colonel Brandon was, Marianne was all hot and bothered over Willoughby, who was sure to break her heart. “Women always go for the bad guys. Why is that?”

  “I ain’t sure they do. Leastwise, they don’t stick with ’em if they got any smarts,” Lester said. “My Glenda woulda never let me back into her life if I hadn’t started cleaning up my act. Angie Holloway don’t strike me as stupid. She won’t be fooled by some slick-talkin’ feller.”

  Maybe Lester was right. Maybe Angie was over Peter Manning and Seth was upset over nothing. They spackled the wall in companionable silence for a while.

  “But why did Angie have to get so dressed up to meet that guy?” Seth said with a frown. “She looked . . . well, that outfit she was wearing ought to be illegal.”

  “She looked good, huh?”

  “Oh, man.” Good didn’t begin to describe it. Just thinking about the way that little dress hugged her curves got his motor running.

  “Yeah, I thought so. But she coulda been dressing like that because she knew she was going to see you later and wouldn’t have time to change. Trust me. It takes a woman forever to get fixed up to suit her.” Lester gave him a weary look born of long experience. “Besides, do you really think Angie is the type to step out on you?”

  “I don’t know that she’d even think about it that way. It’s like she doesn’t seem to think we’re . . . well, that we’re anything. Like it was nothing for her to see this other guy because she and I are nothing special, if you get what I mean.”

  “Have you told her how you feel about her?”

  In time spent together. In things done to please her. In kisses that were quickly becoming not enough, but . . . “Not in so many words.”

  “In how many words?”

  “None, I guess.” Seth really hadn’t told Angie how he was feeling. He just assumed she’d know.

  “Guys are different. It’s what we do that counts. With women, well, they place a lot of store in what you say. But mind, they want the whole package. You gotta back up your words with actions,” Lester hastened to add. “I told Glenda how sorry I was for being a no-good drunken bum, but she didn’t let me back into the house until I reshingled her roof.”

  Working in silence, Seth thought about that for a while.

  “Guess I’ve been coming at Angie backward, then. I’ve been trying to do for her without ever saying what I feel for her. But that’s . . . well, it’s hard.”

  “Welcome to loving a woman,” Lester said.

  Lester got it without Seth having to say it. Why didn’t Angie? He sighed and slapped more spackle on the wall.

  “You know, there was a time when I’d a told Glenda I didn’t even have feelings,” Lester went on. “I did, o’ course. I just didn’t know how to recognize ’em or what to call ’em. Women got a leg up on us in that department.”

  “Maybe not Angie.” She was pretty closed off about her feelings, but that probably came from being hurt in the past. And not just by Peter Manning. The long parade of foster families had something to do with it as well. She’d all but admitted that she had trouble forming connections with others.

  “So, be honest now? You think she’s really interested in that other feller?” Lester asked.

  Seth stopped working for a bit. “No.”

  “Then what the heck are you doing here? Get back over to her place and apologize.”

  “Why should I apologize?”

  “Because you’re the man,” Lester said as if it were self-explanatory and Seth was a dunce not to see it. “Might not be fair. Might even be true that you’re not at fault, but nine times out of ten, if a man don’t apologize, he may win the argument, but h
e loses in the end.”

  Something about that logic stuck in his craw. “If I go crawling back to her, she’ll think I can’t live without her.”

  “Yep,” Lester agreed with disgusting cheerfulness. “But she won’t believe it until you say the words.”

  Why were words so important? Seth had put a lot of thought and effort into this evening. He’d even arranged for a kid from the college with a classical guitar to come out to his house and play while they ate the catered meal Lester was supposed to have served. He’d gone overboard to show Angie how he felt about her, but she botched it all by stepping out with Peter Manning.

  His insides still did a slow boil.

  “I guess she’s just going to have to keep wondering for a while,” Seth said. “I’m not going to apologize.”

  “Okay,” Lester said agreeably. “Only next time you put together a fancy do for two at your place so you can tell the girl how you feel, why don’t you order prime rib? The missus likes that fine. She wouldn’t mind me bringin’ home them kind of leftovers at all.”

  Chapter 28

  Men are why God created ice cream.

  —Angela Holloway, who tries to have some on hand for emergencies, but suspects not even Chunky Monkey will fix her man problem this time

  After Seth left, Angie stripped off her little black dress, and pulled on her yoga pants and an oversized T-shirt. The outfit was her go-to “sluvvies” when comfort was wanted. It went hand in hand with Ben & Jerry’s when comforting was wanted. She took her half-eaten pint from the freezer and settled cross-legged onto the couch for some empty calories therapy and a good cry.

  It was so unfair. Seth acted as if she’d cheated on him, for pity’s sake. It wasn’t like she went on a full-blown date with Peter. All she did was meet him for a drink.

  Honestly, she really hadn’t even wanted to do that. Of course, there was a dark little part of her heart that believed looking good was the best revenge when it came to dealing with an ex. That bit of her wanted Peter to see she was completely over him, that she’d moved on. She wasn’t the same girl he’d crushed all those years ago.

  “Now I’m the girl Seth Parker crushed,” she told Effie between sniffles. The cat kneaded her lap, circled twice, and then settled between her legs. Effie closed her eyes and started purring.

  “Just great, cat. I’m a soppy mess and you’re happy about it.” Angie took another heaping spoonful of ice cream.

  Cold stabbed the backs of her eyes.

  “Better slow down,” she warned herself, and dialed back the size of her next bite.

  Then her kitchen door rattled and Emma Wilson let herself in. She’d given the girl a key, but Angie had hoped her student would be back with her mom by now.

  Angie swiped her cheeks. It wouldn’t do to let Emma see that she’d been crying. Of the two of them, she was supposed to be the adult. Emma had a lot more to cry about than she did.

  But the heart couldn’t weigh hurts like that. It was impossible to compare whose ache was worse.

  “How’s it going?” she called with false cheerfulness to the girl. “Have you had supper?”

  “I’m not hungry.” Emma came in and perched on one of the kitchen barstools, not quite in the living room and not really in the kitchen either. Sorta like where she was in life—betwixt and between.

  “You need to eat something nutritious.”

  The girl eyed Angie’s pint of ice cream. “Says you.”

  “All right. There’s an unopened Cherry Garcia in the freezer. Grab a spoon.”

  “Now you’re talking. Thanks.” Emma hopped up and helped herself to the ice cream. Then she joined Angie in the living room, claiming the stuffed chair in the corner as her spot.

  Emma gave Angie a searching look. “What’s wrong, Ms. H.?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Then you’re wasting perfectly good ice cream,” Emma said. “You and that old Mr. Parker have a fight?”

  “He’s not old.” The teen must think anyone over twenty-five is ancient.

  “But you did have a fight.”

  Angie conceded the point with a nod.

  “Com’ on, Ms. H. Dish the dirt. What’d your old man do?”

  “He’s not my old man.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” Emma said, curving her spoon around the edge of the carton so ice cream wouldn’t melt over the sides. “So you two broke up?”

  Angie shrugged. If something so relatively minor could blast everything to pieces, were she and Seth ever really together in the first place? Of course, if he’d had drinks with an ex, it might not have seemed minor to her either.

  “I am not discussing this with you,” Angie said. “Did you go see your mom like we talked about?”

  “Yeah.” Emma’s shoulders slumped.

  “And?”

  “Nothing’s changed.” Emma shook her head slowly. “She still won’t let me come home. Says she has my sister and brother to think about and what kind of example would I be to them?”

  “I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” Angie offered.

  “No, please don’t do that,” Emma said. “It’s not her fault. Mom’s a wreck on account of Dad leaving her. She’s got enough on her plate. The last thing she needs is some teacher hounding her.”

  Some teacher. I take the girl in, and she calls me “some teacher. ” “I wouldn’t hound her.”

  “You know what I mean. I don’t mean to be ungrateful. I’m not. Really and truly,” Emma said with emphasis. “I just don’t want you to hassle my mom when it’s not her fault I got myself knocked up.”

  “You didn’t manage that on your own,” Angie reminded her. Tad should be made to shoulder some of the responsibility, but in so many ways, he was still a kid, too.

  As a teacher, Angie had a duty to report child abuse, and failing to care for a minor child certainly fell under that mandate. Emma was only fifteen, too young to be emancipated. Angie was dancing dangerously close to the legal line by not turning in Mrs. Wilson (and the off-in-Muskogee-with-his-girlfriend Mr. Wilson), but she wanted to see if things would work out between Emma and her mom. She wouldn’t wish getting caught in the grinding gears of the system on anyone.

  “Does your mom know you’re staying here temporarily?” Angie hoped the slight emphasis she gave the word temporarily would remind Emma that she needed to resolve her situation soon, but Angie hated to put additional pressure on the girl.

  “Yeah, I told her you’re letting me crash with you, but Mom’s not registering much at the moment. What with worrying about her job and taking care of my little sister and brother and wondering how she’ll make ends meet without my dad, well . . .” Emma’s voice tapered off and she studied her cherry ice cream with absorption. “That’s the thing about being a mom. I can see how it would wear you out after a while.”

  But if you’re a mom, the kids are supposed to come first. Those are the rules.

  However much she wanted to, Angie didn’t say what she was thinking. Emma was trying to give her mom the benefit of the doubt, even if she wasn’t stepping up when Emma needed her most. If Angie said anything against the girl’s mom, the only one who’d be hurt by it was Emma.

  The teen stirred her ice cream to “puddle” it a little. “I told Tad.”

  “Oh.” Angie arched a brow at her. That was a brave step. “How did he take it?”

  Emma shrugged. “About how I thought he would. He freaked.” Tears gathered, but once she blinked them back, her jaw took on a determined set. “He asked me if I was sure he was the father.”

  Angie nearly bit her tongue in two. A rant against men in general and Tad in particular was building inside her. It wouldn’t help Emma for her to pile on, so she made herself stay silent.

  “Anyway, I was so mad at him, I told him I’d have to check. Maybe it was one of, like, the other couple hundred guys I’ve been with. Then he got mad at me, the jerk. As if I would have slept with anybody else.” The anger drained out of her tone to be replaced by deep sadn
ess. “I loved him.”

  “Loved,” Angie repeated. “Past tense.”

  “You pick up on stuff like that pretty quick. Guess that’s why you’re an English teacher.” Emma took another spoonful of ice cream. “How can I love somebody who doubts me?”

  Angie wondered the same thing about Seth.

  Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Forget speak of the devil. All I have to do is think of him . . .

  Part of her wanted to let it go to voice mail. The other part longed to hear his rumbly voice, no matter what he might say.

  “I need to take this.” Angie rose, disappeared into her small bedroom, and shut the door. Then she leaned against it and sank to the floor before she swiped the phone to answer.

  “What do you want, Seth?” Good start. Noncommittal. Tone not at all hostile. Totally vanilla.

  She heard him breathe deeply on the other end of the connection.

  “You,” he said softly.

  Her insides tingled at that, but Angie bit her lip to keep from responding. Seth had all but accused her of cheating on him with Peter. He needed to apologize, and he hadn’t. She couldn’t let him gloss things over as if nothing had happened.

  “I meant why are you calling?” she clarified. Specificity. That’s what’s wanted. When in doubt, fall back on words that mean things.

  Silence reigned.

  “Are you still there?” she asked in a small voice.

  “Yeah,” he said gruffly. “Look, I just hung up from talking to my cousin Crystal. She’s a mess.”

  “I’m not surprised. Things didn’t go well at the pageant rehearsal.” This was a safe topic. Anything but the unspoken elephant in the room.

  “So I heard,” Seth said. “From both her and Noah. Neither of them are happy with the way things stand.”

  “I don’t know how to make it better,” she admitted, not sure she was talking about Seth’s cousin and her husband anymore.

  “Neither do I.”

  Maybe he wasn’t talking about Crystal and Noah either.

  “Maybe if Noah apologized . . .” she suggested.