Cole's Christmas Wish. Tracy Madison
touching had irritated him, though he didn’t have the right to be irritated. Andrew’s posturing had, surprisingly, been more amusing than infuriating. Well, except for the comment about Cole’s career.
Even so, he hadn’t reacted to the push—Rachel had done that for him—and Andrew’s apology had seemed sincere. At that point, the tension emanating from Andrew had lessened, and Cole saw a glimmer of the real man Rachel had brought with her to Steamboat Springs. And damn if he didn’t begin to like him...just a little.
Cole certainly had no intention of making up a woman—a special woman, no less—when Andrew had then asked about his relationship status. But Rachel stepped in, answered in the negative, and that—yep, that was what had done it—had compelled Cole to lie. She’d been so sure, so damn positive in her response, that Cole had wanted to shake her up and prove that she didn’t know every microscopic detail about him or his life.
The maneuver had worked, too. If Cole was a betting man, he’d have wagered cold, hard cash that she’d turned green with envy over his declaration.
If she was in love with another man, why would she care if Cole was seeing someone? She wouldn’t. Or, he corrected, she shouldn’t. By the way her skin had paled a good two shades and her stunned expression, not to mention the wobbly state of her voice, Cole had to believe she did, indeed, care. He couldn’t deny his satisfaction over that.
But he’d lied, and that bothered him. So now he had to decide what to do about the fabrication. Confess the truth or keep the pretense in play? Hell. Lying didn’t sit well with him, but Rachel’s reaction, especially her whispered statement, “I already don’t like this woman,” egged him on, teasing him with the possibilities of what both could mean.
Cole stood, waved goodbye to Lola and headed out into the December night, thinking through those possibilities. What he’d said wasn’t a complete untruth: there was a special woman in his life. A woman he loved, a woman he saw himself quite capable of spending the rest of his days with, having children with, growing old with and every last thing that entailed.
Rachel, of course.
A plan, crystal clear in its clarity, formed in Cole’s mind. He could use his real feelings for Rachel, along with what she believed to be true, and enlist her help in wooing “the woman of his dreams.” If Rachel was jealous, if she did hold more than friendship for him in her heart, wouldn’t that be enough to propel her to act? Maybe.
Or it could backfire. Send her scurrying even deeper into Andrew’s arms, into a future with him, and—like she’d done before—away from Cole. But hell, what did he have to lose?
If he did nothing, he’d gain nothing.
The snow still fell as he walked toward the sports store, where his truck was parked on the street out front, and a magical—dare he say, Christmassy—feeling wove in and wiped out his inner Grinch. He had to try. Had to see if he could resurrect the flame between them.
And if he couldn’t? If Rachel loved Andrew, if he made her happy, then nothing Cole did would change that. But maybe, if luck was with him, the process would allow him to put the past to rest. So he could move on and get Rachel out of his head.
Once and for all.
Chapter Three
Rachel finished loading the dishwasher with the breakfast dishes and faced Andrew, who had just returned to the kitchen after taking a phone call. “What do you want to do today? The snow’s falling a little too thick for skiing, but we could walk around the town, take in the sights, look for a tree...do some Christmas shopping. Whatever you want.”
“I’m sorry, Rachel, but that was the office,” Andrew said, gesturing toward his cell. “There are some issues with a potential client that will likely require my attention.”
“Oh.” Rachel fought off her disappointment. Andrew owned a management consulting firm, and she was already well-versed in the putting-plans-on-hold department. He was busy, traveled extensively and rarely made it through a meal, let alone an entire day, without an interruption. “Well, you warned me this would be a working vacation. Is it serious?”
“Maybe. Too soon to tell yet, but we should probably—”
“Stay in today,” Rachel finished his sentence for him. “That’s fine! We can dig out the Christmas decorations, so they’re ready to go when we find a tree, watch some old movies, play a board game.” An idea occurred to her. A nice, homey, tradition-filled idea. “Hey! Feel like baking some sugar cutouts?”
“You’re amazing, do you know that?” Approaching her, Andrew dropped his phone on the counter and pulled her into a hug. “You’ve never given me grief over my job, over the demands placed on our relationship because of it. I appreciate that in you, Rachel.”
“I’m glad you’ve noticed,” she joked, standing up on her tiptoes to brush her lips over his cheek. “Because sometimes, your job is a pain in the butt.”
“I know it seems that way, especially since your schedule is typically so clear,” he said, referring to Rachel’s careerless life. “But the company is in a crucial period right now. We’re growing fast, which is good, but I have to ascertain we’re able to sustain the growth, see to our existing client base, bring new clients on board, all while expanding and training staff.”
His comment burned, a little, even though she knew he hadn’t meant any harm. She kept herself busy enough with her parents’ social events, where her attendance was deemed mandatory, charitable causes and their functions—of which, there were plenty, and the odd class here and there, when something pulled at her interest.
But Andrew was right. Her schedule was infinitely clearer than his.
“I understand all of that, Andrew, which is why I don’t give you grief.” She appreciated his appreciation, but she’d enjoy his undivided attention a bit more. Especially now, on their first full day in Steamboat Springs. “So...what will it be? Cookies, decorations, games or a movie?”
“Cookies sound—” Andrew jerked to grab his phone, but it wasn’t his cell buzzing. It was Rachel’s “—delicious. Go ahead and get that. I’ll search the cupboards for ingredients.”
Nodding, Rachel answered without looking at the display.
“Hey there, Rach. How’s your morning treating you?” Cole asked, jovial as all get-out.
The sound of his voice—the rich, deep ring of it—sank in like butter melting on a hot, fresh-off-the-griddle pancake. That, along with his upbeat mood, caused her attitude to dip another degree. Still, she kept her tone chipper when she said, “Wonderful. How’s yours?”
“Good. Real good, in fact.” Someone said something on his end that she couldn’t quite catch, but she heard enough to know the speaker was female. Was it her? The complicated, shy-yet-determined Cupcake? “Haley says hi,” Cole said. “And wants to know if you have any clothes you’re angling to give away.”
Haley. Cole’s sister, not his girlfriend.
Rachel laughed, in relief and in humor. Last year, when Haley had stopped by for a visit, she’d raided Rachel’s closet, oohing and ahing at the designer labels. She’d been so excited, Rachel had given her a boxful of outfits: dresses, shirts, pants and a couple of jackets.
Rachel didn’t need them. Her mother shopped to show her love...and she shopped a lot. Which, Rachel supposed, said something. “Tell Haley to stop by whenever,” she said. “My closet is her closet.”
Cole relayed the information. Haley squealed and jabbered something else. Rachel smiled even broader. She adored Cole’s family. For a long while, when she was younger, she’d pretend they were her family. Her parents, her brothers, her sister.
Well, except for Cole. She’d never thought of him as her brother.
“Believe it or not, the reason for my call has nothing to do with my sister’s