Chapter 14 #2
It was the kind of outside pressure that in Cora’s mind mirrored the pressure on her parents when they’d been forced to marry.
It would be awful to slowly lose the fun, the heat, and the laughter that she and Nick shared now as they gradually started to hate each other. She didn’t think she could bear that.
One by one, the lights were switched off in the festival grounds and soon they were shrouded in the almost darkness with only the glow of the safety lights around them. It wasn’t the soft illumination of the holiday lights but like a harsh burglar-catching beam.
Nick raised his hand and brushed his fingertips gently over her cheek. She felt herself leaning into his palm and knew she’d already decided to accept this latest wager.
“Deal,” she whispered, closing her eyes.
Nick took her hand in his and together they walked toward the parking lot. That snow globe was back, dancing around and sparking her tummy with frosty snow and fevered anticipation. This man had her tied in knots—the kind of knot she couldn’t unravel easily.
Rationally, what they were doing made no sense, but she was doing it anyway because when she was around him she felt something she thought might be bliss. She couldn’t deny herself.
Not anymore.
As if she’d been trying at all.
She wanted Nick. Wanted these conversations, these hand touches, these kisses under the mistletoe. She craved him in a way that scared her because it felt like it was taking over.
But fear was no match for the lust churning through her.
The touch of his lips against her made her forget that every year, another part of her soul died as she piled lie upon lie upon lie.
She put on her Christmas outfits and pretended this was her favorite time of year.
She pasted a smile on her face and worked longer and longer hours, but when would it end?
She looked down at their linked hands and it felt somehow like there was an answer hiding there.
Nick loved the holiday. Perhaps some of his love would rub off on her. Perhaps there was a way that he’d help her to see it differently.
“You’re quiet, Cora. Are you plotting to bring a gang of tired, hungry kids to the park to win our bet?” he teased.
A soft smile teased his full lips.
“What a great idea. And where might I find one of these gangs?”
“I’m not giving up my source,” he said.
The silliness of the conversation lifted her spirits and made the intensity of her fears dissipate.
What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she ever allow herself to simply be happy for a moment?
She knew the answer and didn’t really want to dwell on that. “I have ways of making you talk.”
“Oh, I hope so. I hope they involve your hands on my body. What will you try first?”
“I’m not giving up my secrets. Just know that if you have something I want, I’ll get it,” she promised him as they reached the parking lot. Her car was the only one left in the lot.
“Where’s your car?”
“I got a ride here.”
“Want me to drive you home?”
She realized she’d never actually seen his home. Where did he live? She hoped he didn’t still live with his parents.
“I live out past Frosty Jack’s. It’s too far for you to drive and then go back home.”
“I don’t turn into a pumpkin at midnight,” she informed him tartly.
“Cora.”
Her name was his answer, and it wasn’t yes. This was what she got for getting her hopes up. Just because she was catching feelings for Nick, it didn’t mean he was catching them for her.
But that wasn’t reality. He was always honest with her about what he wanted—and what he wanted was a wife. She didn’t doubt that he wanted to sleep with her, and since that was all she wanted, why was she so disappointed?
“Okay, well, see you,” she said, walking away from him at a fast clip. The sooner she got back to her place, where she was surrounded by the home she’d bought and paid for herself, the sooner she’d get her balance back.
He caught her arm. “In a clumsy way, I was struggling to suggest—in a gentlemanly fashion—that you could stay with me tonight, if you drive me home. Obviously I made a hash of it, so how about I come to your place instead?”
And suddenly she knew there was only one answer she was going to give.
Having Nick in her house unnerved her, pure and simple. The mistletoe was still above the door but she scooted past it like it might rain fire on her. She thought she heard a chuckle from Nick but didn’t pause to verify it.
Now that he was in her house, it was clear why she’d suggested going to his place. This was her private sanctuary. If things didn’t work out…
“The look on your face… Do you want me to leave?”
Did she?
“Of course not. I’m just… I never bring anyone home.”
“This is my second time here.”
“Don’t read too much into it.”
“Oh, I’m reading everything into it,” he said. “Mind if I take over your kitchen?”
“Why?”
“I make a mean gingerbread that will soothe your nerves and make you forget whatever it is that you’re worrying about.”
And that was how she found herself perched on a stool at her own kitchen island while Nick rolled up his sleeves and started gathering ingredients from her pantry.
Most people wouldn’t notice anything more than that there was a stand mixer on the countertop.
Nick wouldn’t guess that she’d scrimped and saved for it and had started testing out recipes so she could figure out a way to make the Winter Wonderland stand out from all the other December festivals. To him it was just a normal kitchen.
“Want to help me?”
He was leaning indolently in the doorway leading to her pantry, the strong muscles in his thighs drawing her gaze and his thick chestnut hair falling over his forehead. He needed a haircut—mostly so she wouldn’t be so consumed with wishing she could grab his hair in her fist as she urged him on.
It was just hair. On the head of a guy who irked her. Except he didn’t. Not anymore. She wasn’t sure when that had changed, but it had started when he’d presented his toy to the board and saved her bacon.
Gratitude always seemed to imply a debt in her mind. Like she had to pay him back. What would he ask of her?
“Is it really such a tough decision for you?” he asked, walking toward her with a long, languid stride.
He was too at ease in her kitchen. He took up too much space with those broad shoulders of his.
Her insides were melting like a chocolate bar in a hot car and his eyes were such a bright blue that they mesmerized her. Damn it all.
“Of course I’ll help.” Entering her pantry, she asked, “I don’t know the recipe. What do you need?”
He lifted one eyebrow, giving her a roguish smile.
You, his look suggested. I need you. There was such a wicked heat between them as they gathered the dry ingredients from among the neatly arranged jars of spices and canisters of sugar, flour, and baking soda.
Once they were back in the kitchen, she took out the wet ingredients from the fridge without being told.
“Seems like you know the recipe by heart as well. Tsk tsk, lying this close to Christmas … not a good idea.”
“Worried about me making the Nice List?” she teased, getting down a mixing bowl for him to put the dry ingredients in.
“Aren’t you?” he asked.
“Nah, Santa’s got a soft spot for me.”
The intensity in his eyes when he looked at her made her smile. He really took this Santa Claus stuff seriously. It made him easy to needle.
“What makes you think so? Also, I thought you didn’t believe in Santa.”
“I don’t. But you do,” she said, coming closer.
“Is that influencing you?” he asked. “Belief is one powerful catalyst, shaping possibilities and showing a believer a world they’ve never seen before.”
That was beautiful. Nick’s philosophies were so different from hers. He made her want to live in the world that he saw. She tried to cling to her own cynicism, but it was hard in the face of his conviction.
“You have the kind of courage I lack,” she admitted. “You see, I need proof.”
Nick stopped measuring ingredients and gestured to the window where the snow fell softly, illuminated by the Christmas lights on her neighbors’ homes. “The proof is all around. You only have to open your heart and your eyes to see it.”