Fair enough, she supposed. Perfectly reasonable, even, since she had agreed to those ridiculous terms. Somehow, though, for reasons she couldn’t fully explain, her instincts remained on high alert. She really, really wanted to trust in those instincts.
“I’m sure we’ll be able to get through them quick enough,” Cole said. “If nothing else, we can fall back on the vacuum-cleaner idea.”
She snorted. “You do that. While you’re at it, why not buy Mary another flashlight, as well? Maybe some batteries to go with it, and hey...I know! How about a sewing machine so she can mend all your loose buttons and torn shirts?”
His mouth split into the goofy grin she adored. “Two flashlights are overkill. She doesn’t sew, but hey, nice idea. The batteries could work, but isn’t that a bit...I don’t know, cheap to give them as a separate gift?”
“I was teasing, which you know.” Her instincts buzzed harder. “What type of music does Mary like? What’s her favorite movie, favorite author? Does she enjoy cooking? Does she wear jewelry? Is she a dog or a cat person?”
“Whoa there, Rach. That’s an awful lot of questions.”
“If you’re considering marrying her, then you should know the answers.”
“Of course I know the answers!” Cole sat up straight and shifted in his seat. “But would you rather be given a CD of your favorite type of music or something unexpected, something that you’d never think of buying yourself in a million years?” He shrugged. “I think the unexpected is more romantic than the obvious.”
He had her there. Damn him. She wasn’t about to let on to that though. “Yes,” she said with a sniff, “I would never, in a million years, buy myself a flashlight.”
“You would, but not for the same reason I bought that particular flashlight.”
And that made zero sense. She regarded him silently, trying to decide what he was up to. Even if Mary existed, even if Rachel had lost her mind, he was up to something. He had to be up to something. She had to figure out what.
“Do you have some paper and a pen around here somewhere?” she asked. “I’d like to write a list, see everything we’ve already bought in print. Maybe then, I’ll be able to align my thinking with yours, so we’re...um...on the same page.”
One eyebrow quirked in curious amusement, but he didn’t argue. He left the room, returning a minute later with the requested items, which he dropped on the table in front of her.
“Thank you,” she said as she flipped open the spiral-bound notebook.
“Welcome.” Rather than retaking the seat he’d vacated on the other side of the table, he sat in the chair next to her. So close, she could feel the heat of his body. “I’m really okay with the roaming and talking method, Rach. We don’t need a list for tomorrow.”
“Shh. Maybe you don’t, but I do.”
On a clean page, she numbered from one to ten along the left margin, filling in the top five lines with the gifts they’d already purchased. Next to each item, she then wrote the reason—as she understood it—for buying that particular gift.
When she was done, she had:
Snow Globe—Representation of when/how they met (outside in the winter)
Photo Album—To put pictures of their journey so far (they met as children)
Camera—To create more memories with
My Perfume—Because he likes the scent/doesn’t know what brand she wears
Flashlight—No freaking idea why or what he’s thinking
She read the list once, twice. Squeezed her eyes shut for a millisecond and then read the list again. Her mind replayed every last thing that had happened since she’d arrived in Steamboat Springs, beginning from the moment she and Andrew had stepped into the Beanery.
Cole’s unexpected announcement that he had a girlfriend. His crazy plea for Rachel’s help in wooing Cupcake, a woman whose first name he refused to share. How his friendship with Rachel had prepared him for this relationship because the two women shared similar pasts, similar temperaments, similar...barriers.
What else? Margaret Foster’s obvious pleasure when she spoke of Cole’s falling in love weighed against Lola’s certainty that he didn’t have a girlfriend. The vase. Cole’s words about Rachel’s eyes, how she’d then deemed the vase a romantic gift because of that sentiment, followed by his intense reaction to that.
One by one, each moment, each conversation, each time he’d sidestep one of her questions, each odd look and muffled laugh...all of it roared through her head, along with images of his teasing smile, their absurd winter picnic at the playground, the way he’d... Oh.
She drew in a sharp breath and read the list for the fourth time.
Why, the sneaky devil. The snow globe represented how he and Cupcake met, did it? Well, Rachel had met Cole in the winter, outside, in the school playground. And no man in his right mind bought the woman he loved another woman’s favorite perfume. Rachel’s scent.
Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she tried to find the weak threads holding her conclusion together, tried to convince herself that this couldn’t be the case. Could she be Mary? Could she be... If Cole loved her, wanted to romance her, why wouldn’t he just tell her? Why would he go to such extremes to get her attention? Was he trying to make her jealous, or...?
“Andrew,” she whispered. She hadn’t told Cole about Andrew until...oh, a week or so before arriving in Steamboat Springs, when the decision had become final. Why had she waited? Because...she hadn’t yet decided if her relationship with Andrew was important enough to mention? Or because she was still hanging on to hope she didn’t know she had?
Both, probably.
“Andrew? Did you need to call him?” Cole asked, interrupting the forward motion of her thoughts. “Go ahead, Rach. I’ll...go put your clothes in the dryer. Give you a little privacy.”
She nodded faintly as he stepped away from the table, piecing together what she hoped to be true with what she actually knew. She could be wrong. This could still be nothing more than wishful thinking. But if she weren’t...was it even remotely possible that Cole had created a fake girlfriend out of jealousy? To accomplish what, exactly?
He’d said he wanted to “woo” Mary. That he needed Rachel’s help. She’d seen love in his eyes, for crying out loud. But...well, in addition to all the wonderful and sweet comments he’d made about his Cupcake, he’d also expressed serious concerns. Concerns he wanted to talk over with Rachel, so that she could help him see those “issues” in the right light.
Because women were a mystery.
She dropped her gaze to the list again, read what she’d written, considered and analyzed the entire situation, everything she knew about Cole and their shared past, and tried to determine where she should go from here. Ask him? Just flat-out tell him her suspicions?
The thought held merit. But. What. If. She. Were. Wrong?
Could she handle that outcome? Probably, yes, although it would be a humiliating and miserable experience. A shudder rippled through her at the thought, at the very image of how that conversation would turn out. The sympathy and shock and...pity. Hell, if she was totally off base, she’d come off as a love-struck loon. A crazy person. Ugh.
But...if she were right, why stop now?
A glimmer of an idea set in. She could turn the tables, play a bit of Cole’s game on him, lead him down the same convoluted path he’d been leading her. Discuss those serious concerns of his under the guise he’d created, which frankly, might allow them to
be one hundred percent honest with each other, about their past and the decisions they’d each made. Yes, she thought, as whacked as the idea was, that also held merit.
She needed confirmation, though. She needed to know if what she thought was going on was, in fact, what was really going on. Only then could she make a decision of how to proceed.
But oh, if Cole had done this instead of just talking to her, instead of being open and honest and admitting his feelings—those concerns of his—then a little payback was definitely in order. She loved him, yes. She knew that now, without doubt or question.
Unfair, though, playing with her emotions. Wrong, too. And if he did love her, if that hope turned into reality, then she needed to know he wouldn’t do something like this again. She needed to know that he trusted her, trusted them, and would turn to her instead of relying on deception as a means to an end.
Of course, that didn’t rule out the fun-factor in teaching him that particular lesson. A small, quiet laugh slipped out. Oh, she’d have fun, all right. In spades.
Confirmation first, though. And, thanks to Dylan and his illuminating insight on the subject of tells, Rachel thought she knew exactly how to get it.
* * *
The next morning, Rachel spent close to an hour on the phone with her mother, attempting to convince her that, no, she still had not heard from her father. Atypical behavior for Lawrence Merriday? Yes. But also not a complete aberration.
Rachel’s father was the president and chairman-of-the-board for a multi-million dollar paper manufacturing company that his great-grandfather had started eons ago as a small business with only a handful of employees. If there were any knots requiring untangling at MPM—Merriday Paper Manufacturing—her father would see to that before focusing on this latest battle with her mother. Then, though, he’d be full-in. That was when Rachel figured he’d contact her.
Candace knew this as well as Rachel did, but for whatever reason, seemed more distracted, more depressed, than usual by whatever was going on between them. She was also behaving atypically, not that Rachel said that to her in so many words.
But it did cause her concern. Enough concern that when Candace claimed she’d had second thoughts and had decided to stay in New York for the holidays, Rachel talked her into coming to Steamboat Springs. It took some doing, which was...yep, also atypical, but finally her mother agreed. She would be here on Thursday afternoon.
Then, Rachel hurriedly went through her closet, filling two large boxes with an assortment of designer clothes for Haley. She had less than two hours before she met with Cole to finish their oh-so-fun shopping trip, and chatting with his sister beforehand was essential.
The clothes served as an excellent excuse to drop by.
If she were there at the right time, she might bump into Reid. Oh, seeing any of the Fosters would be a pleasure, but Reid and Haley were the only two who could give her the confirmation she wanted. After all, she’d been told clear as day what their “tells” were.
She didn’t call before heading to Foster’s Pub and Grill, deciding to go with a surprise visit. Hey, surprise had worked well for Cole, so why not? Once there, she went directly to the back entrance since the restaurant hadn’t yet opened for the day. She had to put the boxes down in order to knock, and while she waited, she went over her plan of attack.
Throughout the long, sleepless hours the night before, Rachel had given considerable thought to the forthcoming conversation. She couldn’t outright share her suspicions with Haley, or with Reid if he were around, because as much as they might like her, the Fosters were tight. What Haley and Reid knew, Rachel felt sure Cole would know before she’d made it back to her car. Also, she couldn’t rule out the possibility that she was wrong.
Being wrong was one thing. Letting Cole in on her feelings if he loved another woman? No. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—go there.
Rachel knocked again, a little harder this time. What if she was right, but Cole hadn’t shared any of this with Haley and Reid? There wouldn’t be any tells then, regardless of what questions Rachel asked, because they wouldn’t be in on the scheme.
Oh, hell. Why hadn’t she thought of that before?
Except...that seemed unlikely. Either Mary existed or Cole had told his family what he was really up to. Otherwise, why would his mother have said what she did? That made sense.
Rachel was readying herself to knock one more time when the door swung open by a smiling Paul Foster. His hair had grayed some since she last saw him, but he looked fit and healthy and very much like a man happy with his lot in life.
“Well, hello there, Rachel. I heard you were in town.” He shot an inquisitive look toward the boxes before opening the door wider. “Come in, have some coffee. Cole isn’t here, though.”
She returned his smile. “Actually, I’m here to make Haley’s day.”
“Well, I’m sure she’ll be pleased to hear that,” Paul said. He bent over and picked up the topmost box. “She’s in the office gathering some stuff to take with her to the sporting goods store, since she’ll be helping out there today.”
Right. While Cole took off with Rachel. Good thing she’d gotten here when she did. “Glad I caught her before she left,” Rachel said, gathering the remaining box in her arms. “Is...uh...Reid here by chance?”
“He was earlier,” Paul said, leading the way toward the office, “but left about thirty minutes or so ago, I’d reckon. Were you planning on making his day, too?”
Rachel laughed. “I just wanted to say hi. He’s the only Foster left I haven’t seen.”
“Gotcha. Well, I’m sure you’ll be in the same place at the same time soon enough.” Paul paused in front of an open door to a large room. Inside, Haley sat at one of three desks, busily sorting a stack of files. He winked at Rachel. In a booming voice, he said, “Look who is here to make your day, Haley!”
The woman jumped, brought her hand to her chest. “Dad! You know how much I hate when you do that. I swear, you stay up late thinking of ways to—” Her eyes landed on Rachel. A wide smile appeared. “Rachel! What are you doing here? Did we have plans I forgot about?”
Paul entered the office and deposited the box he carried at Haley’s feet. “I’ll leave you two alone,” he said, retreating to the doorway. “Coffee is in the kitchen, if you’d like some.”
He was gone before Rachel could reply. More atypical behavior. In the past, Paul would always take a few minutes to chat, ask what she’d been up to, about her parents. Of course, he was working now. Perhaps he’d been in the middle of something he needed to get back to.
Brushing the thoughts aside, Rachel walked to Haley’s desk, put her box on top of the other. “You didn’t forget anything. I cleaned out my closet this morning, so figured why keep you waiting for a new wardrobe when I could bring the clothes to you?”
“Yeah?” She looked from Rachel to the boxes. “Can I...?”
“Go for it.”
Haley tore into the boxes, one after another, pulling out and holding each item up to her long and lanky frame. Rachel stood by and watched, offering appropriate comments at the appropriate times, itchy with nerves for what came next.
The entire process took no more than twenty minutes, but when Haley finally collapsed in her chair, Rachel felt as if an entire twenty-four hours had passed. She pulled one of the other desk chairs over to sit in, smiled and said, “I take it you’re pleased with my choices?”
“Are you kidding? I’m ecstatic. Say what yo
u will about your mother, but she has fantastic taste in clothes.” Haley reverently slid her hand over each box. “And you know I’m eternally grateful for your generosity, but...um...are you nuts? Why would you give away such beautiful stuff? They all look brand-new, as if you’ve never worn them.”
Rachel shrugged. The truth was, she hadn’t worn most of what she’d given Haley. “Half of what’s there aren’t this year’s styles,” Rachel offered as an excuse, though she never cared a bit about that, “and have been hanging in my closet here since last year. The rest aren’t my style, but I thought they would suit you. If you don’t want them, I’m sure—”
“Oh, right. Like I’m going to turn away gorgeous clothes that I could never afford to buy on my own. I don’t think so.” Haley reached over, squeezed Rachel’s hand. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Rachel said simply. Despite her real motive for bringing the clothes this morning, she loved how happy they made Haley. “Enjoy.”
“Trust me, I will.” She glanced at the clock. “Do you want a cup of coffee? I might be able to snag us a few Christmas cookies, if Mom isn’t looking.”
“I’m good.” Rachel paused, brought the words to mind she intended to say, and hoped for the best. “Did you know I’ve been helping Cole choose gifts for his girlfriend?”
“He mentioned something along those lines,” Haley affirmed, her fingers entwined on the surface of the desk. “I know he was thrilled you agreed to...help.”
“Well, how could I say no? I mean, I’ve never seen him this excited, this...focused on making another woman happy.” Rachel leaned forward and lowered her voice, as if sharing a secret. “I had no idea that Cole had such a romantic side to his personality.”
Green eyes widened innocently. Real or fake? “I know! Who’d have guessed?”
Cole's Christmas Wish Page 13
