The Sugar Cookie Sweetheart Swap

by Kauffman, Donna; Angell, Kate; Kincaid, Kimberly

  “Sorry.”

  “I was going to pull the truck around rather than try to jockey the stuff over an icy parking lot.”

  “You mean jockey the stuff and me across an icy parking lot.” She smiled. “Smart.”

  He was still holding her arm, and she was still tucked between him and the grocery cart. She told herself she didn’t move because his big body was mercifully blocking the brisk, bone-chilling wind. It sounded plausible, anyway.

  “So . . . speaking of which, what?” he asked.

  It took her a moment to recapture the conversational thread. “I heard back from the insurance agent and my contractor. They can’t get started on anything until after Christmas, and, to be honest, the way it sounded, I’m thinking they won’t get started before the new year. At least with the contractor. My agent said he’d be able to come out on the twenty-ninth. You’ve already been so great, and I don’t want to overstay my welcome, so—”

  He pulled off a glove and cupped her cheek, the warmth of his palm radiating heat all the way through her. “So you’ll stay with me. Parker,” he said, talking right over her attempt to explain her plan, “I like having you there. When I first moved in, I remember how much I loved the peace and quiet.” He grinned. “After life with four sisters, it was a really welcome change. Then I guess I just got used to it. I don’t know that I ever thought about it feeling lonely or too quiet.” He rubbed his thumb over her cheek. “But it would be both of those things now.”

  She tried to ignore the rush of pleasure his words gave her and shot him a wry smile instead. “So, you’re saying I’m noisy and cramping your style then?”

  He tugged her closer. “I’m saying I want you to stay as long as you need to.” There was that pure, honest, unguarded affection in his eyes again.

  And it occurred to Clara that that was the one thing she’d never seen before in the men she’d dated. Sure, they’d looked at her with desire, or interest, but not . . . not like Will looked at her.

  And while his body might make her pulse jump, that look did funny things to parts of her insides she’d never felt before. Perversely, and maybe out of a latent sense of self-preservation, she wondered if he’d ever looked at anyone else like that. Maybe he looked at all the women he’d dated that way. “Will, I—”

  “Please. Stay.” Then he leaned in and kissed her. It was short, sweet, barely a peck on the lips. The kind of kiss a friend gave to a friend.

  Which did nothing to explain the sudden hormonal inferno it set off inside of her. He could have taken her right there on the icy sidewalk and she wouldn’t have done a thing to stop him.

  “Wait here,” he said, somewhat abruptly. “I’ll be right back.”

  Without his body blocking the chill, all the heat and arousal from being so deep in his personal space again should have instantly evaporated. Only she was still standing there, basking in the afterglow, when he reemerged from the grocery store with a big zipper bag cooler and a bag of ice.

  “How much of this stuff requires refrigeration?” he asked, while she was still staring at the cooler bag.

  “I don’t know, not much. Why?”

  “Well, you said before, how we don’t really know each other, in regards to who we are today, what we’re about.”

  “Okay.”

  “I want you to know me. So, I thought I’d show you what I’m about these days. My new offices aren’t that far from here.”

  Surprised and touched by the offer, she smiled. “I would like that. But, do we really need a cooler with ice for that detour? How big is the place?”

  “Not very, but, uh . . .”

  It surprised her to see him stumble over his words. She didn’t know if it was simply a manifestation of being ten years older, or perhaps the combination of training his body into the workhorse machine it was now, so he could run into burning buildings and do whatever had to be done, but the main difference in the Will Mason of today was his innate confidence. The man standing in front of her now, however, reminded her more of the skinny, geeky college freshman. And something about that made the flutter inside her belly grow even stronger.

  “But?” she prodded.

  “I want to take you out. On a date.”

  Of all the things he could have said, she hadn’t expected that. And he’d blurted it out, like a wet-behind-the-ears kid who’d have to borrow his dad’s car keys. Completely at odds with the rugged, handsome guy who had a bit of a swagger and came on to her like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was incredibly endearing, and connected so directly to the part of her that still felt dorky and awkward as she tried to find her way in the big bad real world, that she realized no amount of rules and restrictions was going to keep him from finding his way into her heart.

  She also realized that one of the real reasons she’d put him at arm’s length was that she hadn’t thought she was worthy of this new, improved Will. Like he’d moved into some other realm with his godlike body and innate confidence, and she was still left behind in Dorksville. And that was a combination she’d tried before, with dismal, painful results.

  But, in that moment, it was just her and the guy who’d been her trusted friend and confidant, who’d shared with her the challenges and tribulations of stepping out of a somewhat sheltered, small-town life into the endless possibilities that could be their future. It was a lot harder to say no to that guy. In fact, it was impossible.

  “I’d like that. Both the office tour . . . and the date.”

  She was surprised and secretly thrilled to see the flush of relief on his face. Like he couldn’t get a date with any woman on the planet. She could think of a few hundred women at that calendar signing alone who’d have eagerly accepted. And yet he’d been almost . . . nervous, it seemed, waiting for her response. “Why don’t we just go by the cabin and drop this stuff off and I can change clothes.” She gestured to the oversized hoodie and sweatpants she was wearing, tucked into too-big snow boots. “Or not. I keep forgetting that my current wardrobe is all pretty much just like this.” She smiled sweetly. “I don’t suppose the date is me going clothes shopping?”

  “You look fine. And we’re already here in town, so no point in going up and down the mountain. Between the cooler and the cold weather, there isn’t anything that won’t hold up for at least an hour or two.”

  Clara could have told him that his idea of her looking date-ready and her idea of the same were light years apart, but since everything else she owned smelled like pit barbeque, she could only smile, nod, and pray she didn’t feel awkwardly underdressed wherever it was he was taking her. Which, frankly, was pretty much a given. The fact that he was dressed casually in jeans, hoodie, and leather bomber jacket meant nothing. She was certain he could turn up in canvas fireman pants and nothing else and be happily welcomed in pretty much any establishment, anywhere.

  He loaded the cooler, then pulled the truck around. Cooler and totes were tucked on the bench seat behind the front truck seat in short order, then he was helping her up into the passenger side. “You’re not going to tell me where we’re going?”

  “My new office.”

  “I meant on our date.” But he’d already closed the door and headed around the back of the truck to the driver’s side. Clara didn’t know whether to be thrilled or scared that he was trying to find a way to grow their friendship into something she could trust as the basis of a fully realized relationship. She wanted to be thrilled. She wanted the promise of what they might have together. But fear was taking the leading edge. She might not have had him in her life for quite some time, but the memory of him, of their friendship, had been one of the best things she’d had to look back on. If she took that irreversible step forward with him, gave in to her growing desire to explore every part of what might be between them . . . and it failed, then she’d lose all of that. Failure now would taint everything good that had come before, erasing what little confidence she had with men along with it. And she honestly didn’t know how she’
d go on from there, with nothing left to build on.

  “Ready?” He smiled at her as he hooked his seatbelt and adjusted the heat.

  The flutter became a full out heart palpitation. Well, crap. It was too late to think about it and decide. She already knew, or her heart did. She wanted him. All of him. The past, the present, the future. All of it. And if she couldn’t find a way to be ready now . . . she never would be.

  Chapter 9

  Will pulled into the parking lot of his firehouse. His now former firehouse.

  “I thought you said the new offices were between the police academy and the county courthouse?”

  “They are. This is my station, or was, where I used to work. And will still volunteer when I can.”

  “Oh. Cool.” She looked at him, her expression unreadable. “Did you need something from here for the office?”

  “No. I wanted to show you what I’ve been doing for the past nine years, or at least where I’ve been doing it. And—you still love the holidays, right?”

  Now she looked completely confused. “Yes, I do. But what—”

  “Well, we have an empty lot around back where we sell Christmas trees as a station fundraiser every year. They’ve got mulled cider and usually some music playing. And . . . I thought maybe we’d pick one out.” It was silly to feel so flustered, only now that he was explaining it all, he wondered how lame she must think he was to take her Christmas tree shopping on their first date. “You, uh, may have noticed that I don’t have a tree up. All four of my sisters usually go overboard with their decorating, and since I make the rounds, I generally just enjoy the fruits of their labors.”

  “You’ve never put up your own tree?”

  “We have one at the firehouse every year.”

  “That’s not the same thing.”

  “I know, but it was enough for me.”

  “Well, please don’t feel like you need to put up a tree for me, I really don’t need—”

  “I do.”

  That made her blink. “You suddenly need a tree? Why?”

  “Because it would be fun to put one up with you.” There. He’d said it.

  She stared at him and he still wasn’t sure what was going through her mind. “Do you have decorations? No, you couldn’t, you never put a tree up. Will, you can’t just throw any old thing on them. Part of what makes a tree special is decorating it with things that matter, or have some history or tradition.”

  “Well, every tree has to start somewhere, right? I’ll call my sisters and have them put aside a few of the ornaments from our family. We had so many they each have a batch, which they’ve added to, so I know they can spare a few.” He grinned. “I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to show you every one of my childhood ornament creations made in school or Boy Scouts.”

  “You were a Boy Scout?”

  “You say that like you’re surprised.”

  “Well, not meaning you’re not Boy Scout material, but just that I guess I think of them as doing camping and outdoor stuff like that and—”

  “Just because I had four sisters and was good at math does not mean I didn’t know how to pitch a tent or tell a good campfire ghost story.”

  She grinned at that. “You told ghost stories?”

  “I told great ghost stories. Actually, to be honest, my grandpa told awesome ghost stories, so most of mine were lifted from him, but I held my own pretty well.”

  She just sat there, smiling at him. Then she kind of abruptly said, “I need to know something.”

  “I won’t tell ghost stories in bed—assuming we share one someday—unless, of course, you ask me to.”

  She laughed. “Good to know. But that wasn’t it.”

  His smile remained steady, but something more serious was flickering in her eyes and he felt his palms get a little sweaty. “Ask me anything.”

  “I’ve told you about my dating past, well the general gist of it, anyway. Just take the grocery store incident and multiply by . . . a bigger number than it should be.”

  “You want to know about my dating past?”

  She nodded. “Not invasive, private details, or names or how many, or anything like that. It’s just . . .” She paused, sighed. “I feel stupid for even asking, especially after you’re being so great and understanding about everything, and you’re trying to do things the way I asked. But . . . I told you how I’m not good at judging things. Relationship things. And you’ve also been great about listening to all of my ridiculous insecurities and—”

  “They’re not ridiculous. They’re honest. And I appreciate, more than you know, that you’ve been so honest and up front with me. Because while I did listen, and I think I kind of got it . . .” Now it was his turn to sigh. “If I’m being completely honest, I have to admit that it went in one ear, and my reaction was more or less, well, I’ll figure out what it will take for Parker to be happy so I can have what I want. Which isn’t really the same thing as listening and truly understanding what you meant.”

  “But you think you do now?”

  “More than I did, yes. That’s why I thought we should go out and do something a normal couple would do as they start to get to know each other.”

  “Buy a Christmas tree together? To decorate back at the house we’re sharing?” She laughed.

  He laughed too. “See, that’s just it. I want to figure it out, but . . . well, we can’t turn back time and date like two people who just met, because we didn’t just meet. We share a past, and even though a lot of time has passed, it’s clear to me, and I think you, that it meant something then, and that it still does now.”

  “Will—”

  “No, let me get this out while I’m thinking somewhat clearly on the subject.” He shot her a fast grin. “Or as clear as I can anyway. I realized when we didn’t even have each other’s phone numbers, despite sharing a house, and a past, and a bond that appears to have withstood the test of time and distance, that you were right. We really aren’t currently connected. Not even like newly dating couples would be. So I figured I’d start with showing you where I’m from, where I’m going. I’ve gotten a little peek into that with you this week, from listening to you talk to Nick, and working on your new column with you. I don’t know how else to go about convincing you that I’m worth taking a chance on. And not just as your best friend.”

  “That’s just it. You don’t need to convince me, Will. I want all the same things you do. In fact, the more perspective I try to retain, the more I realize I can’t do any of that, because you’re right. We know each other. We know we want each other. What I don’t know is why me? I mean, is it because I’m here and this is just something interesting to pursue? Old friend, second chances? Easy come, easy go? Have you been serious about anyone before? Do you want to be serious about anyone? I mean, you’ve changed so much. Not on the inside, not who you are, but . . . let’s just say I’m thinking you don’t have as hard a time finding potential serious dates as I do.” She stopped, looked away. “I’m sounding like pathetic, insecure girl. I realize that. And, you know, I’m not. Not really. Normally I’d just go for it and figure what happens happens and that’s life. Which, possibly, hasn’t been the best strategy.”

  “Parker.”

  “I can’t do that with you. You matter. Or you did once. And now you do again. It’s not easy come, easy go where you’re concerned.” She lifted a shoulder, still keeping her gaze out the passenger window. “And . . . I guess I need to know if that’s how you view your relationships. If that’s how you view me.”

  “Parker, turn around.”

  She didn’t. “You look at me and I see there is honest affection there, true friendship. And I know you want more. But that’s already more than I’ve had, and if you’re not thinking about this in a big picture kind of way, if that’s not where your life is, I totally get that. But then I really, really can’t just jump and—”

  He flipped his seatbelt off, then hers, in short order, and pulled her across the bench seat until
she was facing him, half in his lap. He hadn’t known what to expect, but the intense, almost fierce feeling he had, to make things right, to make her happy, to be happy with her, shook him like nothing ever had. “When I kissed you outside the bookstore, it was curiosity. And second chances. And . . . who the hell knows. When we bake together in the kitchen, when I watch you work, all curled up on my couch, wearing my sweats, chewing your bottom lip and wearing those ridiculous glasses and I still get hard . . . When you laugh at my jokes and make me laugh just as hard and I realize that nobody ever got me like you did. Like you still do.” His voice gentled a bit, but that only revealed an even rougher edge. “When I’m at work and you’re on my mind, I can’t wait to get back home again, because now you’re there . . . God, Parker, you’re home and hearth . . . and my best friend is back and it feels so fucking incredible and I feel so damn lucky. I don’t even know exactly how it happened, or why, but I know I don’t want to screw it up. And I’m right back there, in college, afraid to kiss you, afraid to do or say something that will end it.”

  “Will—” Her voice cracked and he saw the tears built up behind her eyes and he thought his own heart might crack right along with it.

  He was laying himself open for her, every shred, every insecurity, taking the kind of risks he hadn’t dared take, not since the day he’d gotten that phone call at school. Maybe even longer.

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Yes, I do. For you, and for me.” He ran his fingers over her cheeks, skimmed her ears, pushed the cap off her head and wove his fingers into her hair. “So, the answer is yes. I’m thinking big picture, and no, there is nothing remotely casual about this for me. I have never, not once, felt this way.” He could see the real worry, the real fear in her eyes, feel the light tremor in her skin. “I’ve been falling in love with you since that first day in science lab. Fate stepped in, cruelly, and I thought it just wasn’t meant to be. But here you are. And I am the luckiest bastard alive because I get a second chance. And maybe that was all the better master plan, maybe we both needed to grow up and figure things out on our own first, so we’d be ready now, so we’d know what it is we have, and how special it is. I have no idea. But one thing I do know is that I’m in this. Fully, one hundred percent, all in. Until we either figure out forever, or that there isn’t meant to be one. But I can’t—won’t—let fear of losing what we had in the past keep us from finding out what we could have in the future.”