The Wishing Season (A Chapel Springs Romance Book 3)

by Denise Hunter

  “Oh, honey . . .”

  She closed her eyes. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this. It’s just that I can’t talk to my family. They’d be so ashamed. And they should be. I didn’t think I’d ever do something like that. I thought I was a better person than that.”

  “Whoa—wait. What exactly did you do?”

  “I dated a married man!”

  “A man you didn’t know was married.”

  She nailed him with her wet brown eyes. “Somehow his wife found out, and I broke up a family! They’re getting a divorce—at least that’s what Keaton said. His wife said something else—plenty else. She called me just now.”

  “You didn’t know, PJ. He lied to you. Did you keep seeing him after you found out he was married?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then you didn’t do anything wrong. He was wrong. If his marriage is breaking up, that’s on him.”

  She stared at him, those big brown eyes filling again. Her lip quivered and she covered her face, her body racked with sobs.

  What was a guy to do? Cole put his arm around her shoulder, and that was all it took. She turned into him and burrowed in. He wrapped her up in his arms, letting go of a deep breath.

  He felt her pain with every spasm of her body. And as she cried the old memory of the woman with black hair and red nails flashed into his mind. The woman who’d come between his parents and played a role in their deaths. He pushed the thought away. That woman had to have known Dad was married, didn’t she? She was in his parents’ bed, for crying out loud.

  PJ sniffled, drawing him back to her.

  He stroked her shoulder with his thumb. “Come on, now, it’s going to be okay.”

  “It’s not!” Her voice was muffled by her hands, by his chest. He could feel her tears soaking through his T-shirt. “I’m a horrible person.”

  He set her back until he could see her eyes, his hands framing her face. “Hey. You are not a horrible person.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “You didn’t know.”

  Her eyes began filling again. She blinked, and a tear chased a worn path. “But I know now . . . and I still want him sometimes.” She said the words as if they were dug up from some deep, secret part of her heart.

  He wished he could wipe away the shame he saw in her eyes. Her vulnerability pushed at all his walls. He drew her back to his chest.

  She came willingly, sliding her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his chest.

  Could she hear the way his heart thumped at the contact? The sweet flower smell of her rose to his nostrils, and he lowered his head, drawing her in.

  Her shoulders shook as she sniffled, and guilt pricked him hard. What was he doing taking pleasure while she was hurting?

  You’re a real jerk, Evans.

  “I feel so guilty. I shouldn’t be thinking these things. Shouldn’t be missing him. What’s wrong with me?”

  “It’s not a sin to be tempted. You’re doing the right thing. That’s what matters.”

  “I was doing so much better. I thought I was over him, but then he started texting and calling, saying he wanted me back. I ignored him but—”

  “Change your number.”

  “But maybe he just needs closure or something. Maybe if I talk to him one last time, he’d understand it’s—”

  “You don’t owe him anything, PJ. He knew what he was doing. He dragged you into this, manipulated you. You have to do what’s best for you now.”

  She pulled away, wiping the last of the tears. She was finally settling down, her flushed cheeks dry now. “What if he just comes back?”

  “Then he’ll have to get through me.”

  Something washed over her face. Relief? Her eyes brightened. Her lips turned up at the corners. “Thanks.”

  She needed him. He thought that might be the best feeling ever. He’d even managed to calm her somehow. Him. A guy who was helpless in the face of tears.

  “I’ll change my number tomorrow. I don’t know what I’ll tell my family.”

  “Tell them you were getting unwanted calls.”

  She nodded. “Okay. Good idea.”

  Upstairs another wild game of Ping-Pong was under way. Feet shuffled overhead. Someone whooped.

  He was suddenly conscious of PJ’s thigh pressed against his, warm and firm. Of how close she was, just a breath away. He needed out of here before he started wanting.

  Started wanting? Really, Evans?

  The bed frame squeaked as he stood. “It’s late. I’ll go tell them it’s time to shut it down for the night.”

  “Thanks, Cole,” PJ said as he walked away.

  “Anytime.”

  “Sorry about your shirt.” She looked sheepish when he turned. She was the cutest thing in her pink pajamas, her bare feet dangling above the floor.

  “It’ll wash,” he said. “Good night.”

  “Night.”

  He forced himself to turn, to shut the door and walk away. He should be used to that. He’d been trained for it all his life.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  DECEMBER WAS PASSING IN A FLURRY OF HOLIDAY PREPARATIONS, cooking, and family. PJ was busy with the influx of early Christmas parties and tourists who came for the Silent Night Tour of Homes. As hectic as things were, she wondered what she’d do next year if she had a B & B on top of it all. The thought made her mind spin like beaters set to whip.

  Keaton hadn’t contacted her since his wife had called, though Cole stuck close to the house, making himself more visible during restaurant hours. After a few weeks, PJ began to relax. It seemed Keaton had given up. She could only hope he was working things out with his wife.

  She hired Shaundra to help with kitchen prep for the Christmas season. The girl was quick and efficient once she got the hang of things. PJ found herself thinking she’d hire her full time come summer. Then she remembered that one of them wouldn’t be there after June 1.

  By Christmas Eve morning the kids had been off school for almost a week and were getting bored. It was evidenced by the blaring TV and short fuses. To make matters worse, a snowstorm two days before had left them cooped up together.

  PJ got dressed, then flopped on her bed and began paging through the January issue of Master Chef for the third time. The restaurant had closed because of the storm and would be closed for the next two days because of the holiday. She was going to go stir-crazy.

  She had to buy a recliner to squeeze in here. She could hardly wait until she had a living room of her own.

  But then Cole would be gone.

  He’d been coming around more lately because of Keaton. And if she were honest, she’d been seeking him out on occasion. It had nothing to do with his good looks or the way it had felt to be wrapped up in his arms. She just needed a good friend right now. Maybe he wasn’t the wisest choice for that role, but he made her feel good. As though she could do this—even on weeks when she scraped the bottom of the barrel financially.

  Overhead, the kids were waking and moving around. Awhile later, a Ping-Pong game started, and within minutes loud, angry voices carried through the ceiling. So much for a pleasant day off.

  She had to get out of here. Breathe in some Christmas spirit, spread her wings. She tossed her magazine down and slipped on her boots. She was shrugging into her coat by the front door as Cole came down the stairs, wearing a scowl. The argument between Zac and Shaundra carried from the living room upstairs.

  “Wanna get away?” she teased.

  “Please. Save me. Where you going?”

  “Out. Want to come?”

  “Yes.”

  PJ tucked her chin into her scarf as she and Cole brushed snow from the windshield. The car gave a reluctant start, and PJ pulled from the curb.

  Cole leaned against the headrest. “When does school start again?”

  “You sound like a harried mother.”

  “I feel like a harried mother. It’s not even Christmas yet. Where we going?”

  PJ
thought a moment. “Ice skating,” she decided.

  He rolled his head toward her. “Take me back.”

  She laughed. “Don’t you like to skate?”

  “I’ve never been. Hence my request.”

  “You’re going to love it. Guys are naturals with their strong ankles. You’ll be whizzing past me in minutes.”

  Twenty minutes later, PJ slipped her feet into the skates and started on the laces. The square was quiet this afternoon, only a few teenagers circling the frozen pond. The layer of snow had been brushed away, leaving a smooth, glassy surface.

  Once PJ had laced up, she stood, replacing her gloves, and surveyed the landscape. Pine trees, their branches half covered in snow, towered nearby, and skeletal oak branches clicked together overhead. Multicolored lights twinkled dimly in the daylight, and the strains of “Santa Baby” floated from nearby speakers.

  She took a deep breath of the crisp air. “It feels so good to be out. Doesn’t this air feel great?”

  “It’s freezing.”

  “It’s practically forty degrees.”

  Cole tied his skate. “If by ‘practically’ you mean minus ten degrees.”

  She grinned at him and gave him a hand up. “Come on, Half-empty, it’s time to introduce you to ice skating.”

  They shuffled to the edge of the rink and took tentative steps onto the ice. Once both feet were planted, Cole pushed off, arms out and waving for balance. He pushed off again, mimicking PJ’s motions. She’d spent a lot of winter nights circling this rink, usually with her siblings.

  Cole was doing pretty well. He was still upright and moving forward, albeit a little shakily.

  PJ turned gracefully and skated backward.

  He scowled playfully at her.

  “What? You’re doing great. See, it’s not so—”

  His feet got tangled and he pitched forward, arms out.

  PJ reached for him, and their skates shuffled. He was heavy on her arms. Her back worked hard to support his weight. Finally their feet shuffled to a stop, and a giggle worked its way into her throat.

  His lips twitched.

  One of her hands grasped his forearm, and the other was wrapped around his waist. His muscular thigh pressed against hers. Something fluttered in her belly.

  “You have a great smile,” he said.

  She looked up and got caught in his green eyes, her smile falling away.

  His breath fogged between them as his eyes fastened on hers.

  “Thanks.”

  Step away from the hottie, PJ.

  She backed up, shaking off the moment.

  “You should’ve let me fall,” he said. “I could’ve hurt you.”

  “Not on my watch, big guy.” She turned, pushing off. “Ready to race?” she called over her shoulder.

  “Funny.”

  Cole watched PJ sail away as if she weren’t moving on two narrow metal blades. How did people even do this? She did a fancy twirl, her scarf flying around in a circle. It was good to see her happy. She’d been so busy the past month, and he knew she’d been worried her ex-boyfriend would interrupt her life again. Cole had made it a point to stay close by during restaurant hours. Just the thought of what he’d done to PJ made him want to lay the guy out flat.

  She made a U-turn and came up beside him just in time for him to wobble like an elephant on stilts. He threw out his arms, and PJ grabbed on.

  “I thought you said I’d be a natural,” he said once he had his balance again.

  PJ let loose of him. “You’re doing great. The Olympics will be back around before you know it. I think you have a shot at speed skating.”

  He gave her a sour look, but really he was checking her out and remembering what it felt like to have her arms around him as he’d slipped. Dignity notwithstanding, it was enough to make a man consider faking a fall.

  “I’m going to take another turn around the rink,” she said. And then she was off, the ends of her scarf flying behind her, before he could make good on his nefarious plan to get her back in his arms.

  An hour later they took a booth at Cappy’s Pizzeria, having worked up an appetite and not ready to return to the house. Colorful Christmas bulbs dangled from the ceiling on shiny ribbons, and a silver Christmas tree huddled in the corner. The overhead pendants shed a soft light over Cole’s handsome features. He had bits of snow in his hair, and her fingers twitched to brush them away.

  “This is more like it,” Cole said. “Stationary booths, warm environment, soft surfaces.”

  “Stop it. You did good.”

  “Then explain why my rear end’s soaking wet.”

  PJ handed him a menu, lifting a brow. “Sounds like a personal problem to me.”

  A few minutes later the server took their order. Finally warm, PJ pulled off her coat and scarf, pushing them to the corner of the red vinyl booth. A nearby TV played a preview of tonight’s bowl game, and a loud crack sounded from the poolroom as someone broke the balls.

  “Sorry the kids have been kind of rowdy lately. They’re stircrazy, I guess. Plus the holidays can be hard when you don’t have family.”

  She’d invited them to her family’s house tomorrow, but Cole was spending the day at the house with the kids. It would give them a chance to bond. At least that’s what he’d said. She wondered now if it was something more.

  “What did you do before this year?” she asked.

  “It varied. Sometimes I’d go to my foster parents’ house, or someone from church would have me over. The holidays aren’t that big a deal to me anymore.”

  PJ watched him sip his Coke and wondered if that were really true or just what he told himself.

  “I’ve been out of foster care for nine years. I’m just used to it, I guess.”

  PJ did the math. “I thought you were twenty-six.”

  “Twenty-seven. Had a birthday.”

  “When?”

  “Just before Thanksgiving, November 23.”

  About the time Josh had hit her car. She wondered if he’d even told the kids. She hadn’t heard anything about a cake or a party.

  “Why didn’t you say something?”

  He shrugged. “I guess birthdays aren’t that big a deal either.”

  They were in her family. Even now that the kids were grown, the day still called for a party, cake, presents. She thought of Cole alone in his attic room while his birthday ticked away, and she felt the sting of guilt.

  The server arrived, setting down an order of breadsticks. The aroma of garlic and yeast filled the air between them.

  “I’m so hungry.” Cole started on a breadstick.

  PJ poured some cheese on her plate, her thoughts heavy. She’d known Cole over six months and still knew so little about him. She thought of what her mom said about his past. One thing about baggage, it was lighter when someone shared the load.

  “I hope you don’t mind my asking . . . You told me about your mom’s accident, but what about the rest of your family?”

  He swallowed and took a drink of Coke. “They all died in the same accident.”

  “All of them . . . ?”

  “Mom, Dad, and my little sister, Noelle.”

  PJ’s heart clamped tight. His whole family, gone in a moment. How would it feel to be the lone survivor?

  “I’m so sorry. How old were you?”

  “Twelve.”

  Her heart broke for the little boy who must’ve woken alone to the news that his family was gone.

  “It was a long time ago.”

  “You didn’t have grandparents? Aunts or uncles?”

  He took another breadstick. “Mom’s family disowned her when she married my dad, and he was an only child. His parents were older when they had him, and they died when I was little.”

  “So they just . . . carted you off to some foster home?”

  The corner of his lip turned up. “They were good people. Looking back, I see they had their hands full with two young kids and a sulky preteen, but they always had time for
me.”

  Sulky preteen? He’d lost everything and been shoved into another family.

  “So they basically raised you?”

  “I was only there for about a year. His work transferred him out of state.”

  “And just like that you had to go somewhere else?”

  “Something like that. But I don’t have any regrets. Greg and Becky were great, and that’s where I met Lizzy.”

  Lizzy. The girl he’d been on the phone with. The one he’d told he loved.

  She took a sip of her water. “Lizzy?”

  “Another foster kid at the same house.”

  “She’s your . . . girlfriend?”

  “What? No, she’s nine years younger than me. She’s like a little sister.”

  “Oh.” Why did the knot in her stomach suddenly release?

  “She’s the one I’m holding a spot for at the house. She turns eighteen in April.” He cleared his throat. “So tell me about your childhood. What was it like growing up here? There are four McKinley kids?”

  She set her breadstick down and folded her hands on the table. “Well, plus Michael, the twin who died. And Ryan’s friend Daniel Dawson was practically a sibling, he was around so much. He was our honorary brother—so I get what you mean about Lizzy.”

  “Didn’t he marry your sister?”

  “Right, Jade, last December.”

  Cole arched a brow. “I guess he wasn’t everyone’s honorary brother.”

  “Guess not. They’re really good together though.”

  “Your family is close.”

  “Yeah. It gets a little hectic, but in a good way, you know?”

  “And you’re the baby?”

  “Ugh. Yes.”

  “Why ugh? I always thought my little sister had it easy. I doted on her, and my parents babied her. They were so much easier on her than they were on me.”

  “You sound like Ryan. But the baby has everyone stepping in to do everything for her. It has a way of making you feel incapable. And in case you miss the subtlety of the message, they’re more than willing to verbalize it, always second-guessing your decisions or making backup plans for when you fail. I mean, I love them dearly, but they seriously don’t think I can breathe without them.”