Jingle Spells. Rhonda Nelson
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she suspected he was agitated. “You’d prefer I never come back here, right?”
“I can’t stop you from doing that if you want to.”
“But it makes you nervous.”
“Yes.”
“You’re the one who raved about the Christmas cheer in Gingerbread. And sure enough, the place is charming. I have friends who would love to vacation here.”
He sighed. “Then they should.”
“I think so, too.” She longed to assure him everything would be okay, because she was going to figure this out, but saying anything like that would alert him to her covert plans. For now, he couldn’t know what was in her mind and her heart. Soon enough, he would.
Getting into his sleek black sedan reminded her of their songfest the night before, but she doubted he wanted to repeat that. He was tense this morning, and she had a hunch as to why. He was second-guessing his course of action. Pulling out of the inn’s parking lot, he drove slowly down the street. As they rolled along, Taryn checked out the shops.
Cup of Cheer bustled with morning activity. “Cute coffee shop,” she said. “I suppose you never go there.”
“No, but my sister Belle does.”
“She still lives in Gingerbread?” Back in college, he’d mentioned two brothers and a sister, but she hadn’t thought to ask where they lived now.
“We all work for Evergreen.”
“Oh. That’s nice.” Or it could have been, except that if everyone had to keep the same damned secret, what kind of life did they have here? “Will I be meeting them?”
“We’ll see. Depends on everybody’s schedule.”
“You don’t want me getting chummy with your siblings, do you?”
He glanced over at her. “The thing is, they know you were my college girlfriend.”
“Aha!” That pleased her immensely. “Then I’d be surprised if they didn’t want to get a look at me. I would, if I were in their shoes.”
“They probably do want to.” He sounded resigned.
“Great. Then I will meet them.” She settled back in her seat with a smile.
Cole, however, was not smiling. In fact, his profile resembled an ice sculpture.
She’d have loved to thaw him out. “You know, I realized this morning I have no idea where you live.”
His throat moved as he swallowed. “It, um, doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“It does to me. I’m not in the habit of taking my clothes off for a man when I have no idea where he lives or what his place looks like. Until this morning, I hadn’t thought about that discrepancy. You do live in Gingerbread, I assume?”
“Outside of it, but yes, in a sense. It’s the closest town.”
“Will you let me see your place?”
“That’s not a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Taryn, don’t push.”
“I hardly think it’s pushing to want to see your home. Back at MIT we went back and forth between my apartment and your duplex all the time. I knew what was in your refrigerator and you knew what was in mine. Having no idea about your living space feels weird, Cole.”
He sighed. “We’re not at MIT. And I can’t show you where I live.”
She heard the note of finality in his voice and tucked that information away. Wherever he lived, the secret lived, too. If that weren’t so, he’d have agreed to take her there.
Although she had a million more questions, she didn’t ask them. He was already on edge. But she was about to enter a place filled with other sources of information.
As they approached the tall building she’d identified from her bedroom window, a portly man in a red jogging suit lumbered past on the snowy sidewalk. He had on a knit cap instead of a fur-trimmed one, but his white beard was very Santa Claus-like.
She’d decided not to make any more comments, but seeing the jogging Santa look-alike was a safe enough topic. “That guy we just passed looks exactly like Santa Claus.”
A muscle in Cole’s jaw twitched. “I know.”
“Is he some local character?”
“Something like that.”
“It’s kind of cute, don’t you think? A middle-aged guy lives in Gingerbread and decides to take on the persona of Santa Claus. It’s like the role players in old Western towns like Tombstone.”
“Guess so.”
“You don’t seem to appreciate the charm of it, my friend.”
Cole took a deep breath and looked over at her. “I’d forgotten that your brain is always analyzing, always evaluating, sifting and cataloging.”
“Of course. So’s yours.”
He flicked on a turn signal and pulled up to a wrought iron gate with scrollwork incorporating an elaborate E. “I’m going to ask you to focus all that brainpower on the Evergreen database. Pretend you have blinders on and ignore everything else.”
“Sounds like censorship, Cole.”
He touched a button on the dash and the gates swung open. “That’s because it is.”
“For the love of God, what’s going on in this building?”
Pulling into a parking space labeled with his name, he shut off the engine and turned to her. “I promise you that what goes on in this building is benign. There are no criminals here, no terrorists and no drug dealers. Nothing bad happens here, Taryn. Can you accept that and just do your job?”
“If it’s nothing bad, why can’t you tell me?”
“I can’t tell you because...” He looked into her eyes and his throat moved. When he spoke, his voice was husky with emotion. “I can’t tell you, not ever, and I really wish I could, because...”
“Because why?”
“Because I love you.”
She gasped, shocked that he’d said it, but thrilled, too. “But I love you, too! And people who love each other share things they wouldn’t tell anyone else.”
“Not in this case.” His gaze searched hers. “I need you to analyze the database. You’re the person for the job—maybe the only person who can do what I need done. Will you do that for me?”
“Yes, I will.” He hadn’t asked her to promise she’d wear those blinders. Maybe he secretly wanted her to find out what was going on.
Whether he wanted her to find out or not, she intended to. This was ridiculous. They belonged together, and she wouldn’t let him throw their future away, at least not until she knew why he was so intent on doing it.
The lobby was decorated for Christmas, which she would have expected. A blue spruce that had to be thirty feet tall stood in the center of the two-story vaulted ceiling. Evergreen ornaments hung from every branch. Many of them gave off that mysterious glow she’d noticed in hers.
Display cases filled with ornaments lined the walls, and each ornament was labeled with the year in which it was manufactured. Taryn didn’t have much time to look, but she’d swear at least one of them dated back to the 1600s. “Cole, some of those ornaments are really old.”
“The company’s been around a long time.”
“Did it originate in Europe?”
“Yes, it did, in fact. Let’s get you signed in.” He guided her