Chapter 7
There were times when he wished he had the gift of mind-reading and this was one of them. He could tell he was missing something important. That melancholy he’d sensed in her earlier was back, tinged with a hint of anger and longing.
Even without decorations, he could see why she’d been drawn to the property. “Nice place.”
“Thanks. It was important to me to live in a house that felt like home,” she said.
“Why is that?”
“Don’t we all want to feel at home?” she countered. He should have guessed she’d deflect. Cora gave out tiny crumbs of herself but then immediately turned the spotlight away from herself.
“I do,” he admitted. “I live in my parents’ old place. They retired and are off traveling now.” His dad had promised to show his mom all his favorite places in the world once he retired. So far they’d mainly stuck to the United States.
“I can tell you had a really nice upbringing,” she said, envy in her voice.
“I did. Not everyone does and … I’m guessing you didn’t.”
“Nope. Like I mentioned, Dickensian.” Slowly she walked up the path that led to her front door.
The night sky was clear and, without overthinking it, he conjured some snow.
Cora needed a little dusting of seasonal magic.
She let out a startled gasp and tipped her head back as the flakes started to fall around them.
A little laugh escaped her lips and her hand sought his.
He threaded his fingers through hers, enjoying the touch of her skin.
Joy radiated from every pore of her body.
It surprised him, but the bloom of warmth inside him was undeniable.
He was just pleased she was finally beginning to open up so he could get her back on the Nice List. That’s all it was.
He couldn’t afford for it to be anything else.
He focused instead on why her reaction to such a simple thing was unexpected.
Of course she experienced happiness. He guessed she just didn’t like anyone to know what she liked.
He tucked his arm around her, pulling her close, and began to sing “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” under his breath.
Her cold cheek pressed against his as she slipped her arms around his shoulders and sang along with him. “It really is! This is the perfect ending to this day. Snow days were always my favorite, growing up.”
Snowfall was romantic, and since when did Cora have anything to do with romance?
“Mine too. One December, when I was a kid, Jack dared me to try to go down the chimney,” he said.
“Are you kidding? That sounds dangerous,” she said. “Please tell me you didn’t try.”
“Oh, I more than tried. I got halfway down before I got stuck. Jack went and got Ana and they both tried to get me out, but I was wedged. I was also sweating buckets because I was scared.”
“Oh, Nick. That’s crazy. Were you okay?”
“My dad got me out,” Nick told her, leaving out the part where his father had shown him how to use Hearthvale magic to morph his body smaller. He’d have been completely stuck otherwise.
“Did you get in trouble?”
“Nah, my dad’s not big into yelling. He’s a talker. He took me for a walk in the woods near our house.”
His dad’s words were still in the back of Nick’s mind.
Take your time and think through the situation before you walk into it.
Nick realized he hadn’t really been heeding his father’s advice recently.
He’d wanted to put his own stamp on Christmas.
Shake up the holiday. But his plans had been shattered with the large uptick in Black Lumen.
Seemed all he’d done since he’d become Santa Claus was struggle to keep up, to make new toys that would spark more imagination, to keep people off the Naughty List.
“That’s nice,” she said, but she sounded sad again. “Thanks for walking me home.” She paused, and then added, “Want to come in for cocoa?”
Nick considered it for a moment. Cora had left the outside light on and the glow of warm light bathed her face and body. That sadness had ebbed again and she seemed hopeful, which was making it too easy to believe she wanted more from him.
This close to her, he could smell a faint scent of vanilla with a hint of cinnamon. “Sure.”
“You don’t have to sound so enthusiastic,” she said.
“I’m just afraid it’s going to be super sweet,” he admitted.
A smile teased the edges of her mouth. “That’s for Winter Wonderland only. I’ll deny it if you repeat this, but I don’t really like sweet drinks. I prefer a simple hot chocolate with some buttery whipped cream and sprinkles.”
She unlocked the door and he followed her inside. The house was cold and she rubbed her hands on her arms as she flicked on the lamp on the entryway table. “Let me turn on the heat. Seems a waste to run it when I’m gone all day.”
He watched her kick off her heels and then hurry to the thermostat. He had on a pair of Italian loafers that Jack had loaned him, so he took his shoes off. Her house was incredibly neat and tidy.
There was a framed print over the table in the hallway—Dali’s melting clocks. Nick wasn’t a big fan of it and wondered what it was that appealed to Cora.
She shrugged out of her coat and hung it on a hook by the door and held her hand out for his.
“Why this painting?”
“It’s called The Persistence of Memory. I saw it on a trip to MOMA when I was a senior in high school. It just struck a chord with me. At eighteen I figured that the melting clocks were an allegory for memories fading. I thought I’d only have fragments as I aged…”
“But you don’t. Memories are interesting, aren’t they? The way they persist, as he suggested in the title,” Nick added.
“Exactly. I keep this to remind me of the girl I once was,” Cora said. “The kitchen is through here.”
He followed her down the hall, trying to keep his eyes off where that short hem hit the top of her thighs. But he failed. Her legs were fine and shapely, and he couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel wrapped around his hips.
He tried to remind himself that he was looking for a wife, but those words fell on deaf ears. He’d already thought about her legs for far too long to forget about them now.
Her kitchen was another a shock. It was warm and homey—all decades old and made from reclaimed or antique materials.
There was a large butcher-block island in the middle of it made from an old butcher block and the cabinets had crystal-cut pulls.
The queen of commercialization’s home didn’t reflect any of the ideals she spouted at the festival.
“I expected a high-end kitchen with all the latest gadgets,” he said.
“Sorry to disappoint. I’m a bit old-fashioned when it comes to cooking,” she admitted. “I had a neighbor who taught me to cook and she did everything by hand.”
Thinking about Sarah made her feel toasty and warm inside.
The older woman had been a surrogate mother, and Cora had never forgotten her.
In general, she liked shiny, sparkly new things but because of Sarah she also thrifted things and baked from scratch.
A kitchen that reminded her of Sarah just made sense, even if it appeared contradictory to someone else.
Nick was a puzzle. He still irritated her so there was absolutely no reason to have invited him into her home.
Except … that low thrum between her legs that pulsed every time he was close to her.
She’d been unable to think of anything other than those lips of his and how they’d feel moving down her neck.
So yeah, inviting him in … well, she couldn’t deny she had an agenda.
Except now that he was here in her private domain, she was suddenly nervous.
She always kept this part of herself hidden.
She’d never had to explain her homey, cozy kitchen to anyone before and she could feel herself putting up walls again.
Which totally wasn’t fair.
She’d invited him in.
A smile spread over her face at the thought of Nick as some sort of otherworldly vampire who couldn’t cross her threshold without an invitation.
But he was far too cheery, too smiley, his blue eyes too twinkly to be an eternal bloodsucker.
The ripped body, though, that fit the idea of an immortal being. But a vampire in a plaid flannel shirt—
“What?” His question startled her.
“Nothing. So … cocoa. I’m afraid it’s not very upmarket.”
His eyes crinkled in the corners as he stepped closer to her. “I’m a traditionalist myself so cocoa’s perfect. I’m just surprised you are too.”
“Why’s that?” she asked to cover the fact that she was imagining him as a sexy vampire. She busied herself with gathering the ingredients to make the hot chocolate.
“You’re always pushing something new.” He drifted around her kitchen, looking at her things, and eventually stopping at the table nestled under the window that overlooked her backyard.
“And you’re welcome. ‘New’ is going to make you a lot of money once I take your WonderHaus on The Today Show.”
His mouth twisted and he shook his head, shoving his hands into his pockets which had the knock-on effect of drawing his shirt tight against his biceps. Turning away, she focused on the milk she was heating up and the melting going on inside her.
“My ‘new’ toy is really just an update of a classic dollhouse. They’ve been around for hundreds of years.”
“Exactly! The same but … new. That’s what I’m looking for each year. Something that feels familiar but isn’t necessarily tied to old, negative emotions.”
Stop talking, Cora! She’d already admitted her Christmases weren’t great growing up. The last thing she wanted was to unload her baggage. Normally she had no problem keeping herself to herself, but Nick … he made her want to open up.
Danger, girl! Make the damn hot chocolate and get Mr. Dark and Sexy out of your house.
“What about Santa? How do you propose to make him the same but new?” he asked as she brought the hot chocolate over to the kitchen table. She’d skipped the marshmallows on his but added them to her own. She had put some whipped cream on his and added one shake of Christmas-themed sprinkles.