Chapter Twelve #3
“Not at all.”
“Thanks.”
She collected large mixing bowls and baking pans for the gingerbread, then shooed him off to preheat his oven. As Mark made his way to his own place, he wondered if she would accept money from him. He had some put away. He could help her pay for the next semester of Dirk’s schooling.
But even as he came up with the plan, he dismissed it. Darcy would never take that kind of help. Using his oven was one thing, but money was something else. She was stubborn and proud.
She was also everything he’d wanted Sylvia to be. The difference was Darcy was the genuine article. So what exactly did he want from her?
Their relationship wasn’t like any he’d had before.
With Sylvia there’d been sudden, overwhelming attraction.
He’d been smitten from the second he’d seen her.
With Darcy, things had happened more slowly.
Although not sexually, he reminded himself with a grin as he walked into his kitchen and turned on the oven.
The physical chemistry between them was the most powerful he’d ever experienced.
But the rest of it—the friendship or whatever he wanted to call it—had been slow in growing. Like a tiny ember that grew to be a—
A what? Forest fire? He shook his head. That was too big. That implied a kind of connection that made him uncomfortable. He and Darcy weren’t in love, they were—
He paused again, trying to define their relationship, all the while hating his own indecision. Before Sylvia, he’d always known where he stood with the women in his life. Usually they didn’t engage him. Sylvia had seemed like the answer to his prayers. So what was Darcy?
* * *
“Bigger is better,” Darcy said the next evening as they stood freezing in the Christmas tree lot. “I want it to fill the living room.”
Mark stared at the monstrosity she’d picked. “If you get this one it will fill the living room, because it’s too tall. You’d either have to cut it in half or turn it on its side.”
“You think?” She tilted her head to gaze up at the gorgeous tree she’d chosen. “It’s just that I usually don’t have a very big budget for decorating. But this year, with all the extra money from my baking, I thought I’d go a little wild.”
“I suggest going wild on a smaller scale.”
She thought about the low ceilings in her duplex and sighed. “I guess you’re right. I don’t want to have to cut the tree to make it fit. So if we can’t get a tall one, let’s get a really bushy one.”
“There won’t be room to sit anywhere.”
She laughed. “Aren’t you Mr. Crabby Pants? Mark, it’s Christmas. You need to get into the spirit.”
Instead of answering, he took her hand and led her to a different section of the lot.
Once there he started talking about different kinds of trees.
As she didn’t know Douglas fir from cat fur, she didn’t pay attention to what he was saying.
Instead she allowed herself to get caught up in the play of light on his handsome features and the way he gestured when he spoke.
She liked that, even though he wasn’t much of a holiday guy, he was earnestly trying to make sure she got the right tree for her place. Not that he would buy one for himself.
“Are you sure you don’t want a tree?” she asked, interrupting him.
Mark sighed in frustration. “Yes, I’m sure. I don’t do trees. If I get a burning urge to participate in the holiday spirit, I’ll come over to your place.”
“What about a little one for your table.”
“Darcy!”
“Okay. Fine. I’ll get a tree. But you can pick it out so that it feels more like your own.”
An hour later they were back in her living room. Mark had put the massively fat tree into the stand and was positioning it as much in the corner as possible.
“We’re going to have to move the sofa,” he told her.
She ignored his “I told you so” expression. “That’s not a problem. I’ll just pull it toward the dining room.”
“You’ll have to climb over it to get down the hall.”
She glanced at the sofa, then at the entrance to the tiny hallway that led to her bedroom and the bathroom. “If we put it at an angle…”
“Then there’s no room for the coffee table.”
She smiled. “It’s Christmas, Mark. We can do without a coffee table.”
He grumbled under his breath, then obligingly carried the table into the dining room.
Through a bit of shifting and pushing, they managed to fit the sofa and the chair and the tree all into the living room.
The scent of pine drifted through the apartment.
Darcy carried in the boxes of ornaments she’d had stored in the garage.
“Some of these are from when I was a little girl,” she said, setting the boxes down on the sofa and opening the top one. “I made a few of them myself, so don’t laugh.”
“I’d never laugh at you.”
His words made her shiver. Darcy didn’t dare turn around and look at Mark.
Not when she was afraid of what he would see in her eyes.
There was something magical about spending this holiday with him.
She didn’t know what was going to happen between them—she still didn’t know how to define their relationship.
All she knew was that when she was with him, she felt really good inside.
“Will you see your sister for the holidays?” she asked, digging around for lights. She found the first string and handed it to Mark.
“No. Maddie’s going to be on the road. What about you? Will you go see Dirk? Or will he come here?”
“I’ll go there on Christmas Day. There’s a big celebration at the school.
Apparently a lot of parents and family come.
I’m looking forward to it. I have to work the week between Christmas and New Year’s.
We discussed Dirk coming here for a few days, but as he’d be alone most of the day, he said he would rather stay at school. ”
She hesitated, torn between wanting to invite Mark to join them for Christmas and wondering if that was too presumptuous. He was already meeting Dirk in a few days. Would he really want more contact with her brother? And yet if she didn’t invite him, was she being rude?
“What about Christmas Eve?” he asked.
She handed him more lights. But instead of taking them from her, he grabbed her hand.
“Darcy?”
She looked at him. He smiled.
“Would you please spend Christmas Eve with me?” he asked. “We can open our presents.”
Her heart thundered in her chest and her mouth went dry. “Presents?”
“Just a couple of little things to make you smile.”
He was getting her presents? Something worth smiling over? Her brain instantly flashed to an engagement ring. In that same instant, she told herself not to be silly. Mark wasn’t going to propose to her.
Her legs gave way and she plopped onto the sofa.
“Hey, are you all right?” he asked.
“Fine. Christmas Eve would be great.”
Did her voice sound okay? Could he hear the terror in her voice. Terror that came not from fear that he would propose—but fear that he wouldn’t. She realized in that second, she wanted him to. Because she’d fallen in love with him.