Unwrapping The Holidays. Sheryl Lister
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chuckle burst forth before he could stop it. She just looked so gobsmacked. “Sorry. You act like I just personally killed Santa. Not really my thing.”
“No tree, no lights, no gingerbread houses? No mistletoe or eggnog?”
“Sorry. No.”
“I just—” She shook her head. “Okay, fine. You just show me where all the stuff is and I’ll get it all set up for you. It’s the least I can do. Bring in a little Christmas cheer.”
Silent alarm bells clanged in his head. Oh no. Not going to happen. “No, it’s really not necessary. I’m really here to work anyway so—”
She waved a hand at him dismissively. “So am I, but working doesn’t mean we can’t do Christmas. I love the holidays. Show me where it all is. I’ll do the setting up. If you can make sure I’m not sleeping in my car for the holiday, I can do a little decorating. And we need to get you an ugly sweater. Maybe there’s one in the gift shop.”
Cole stared at her, caught somewhere between laughter and bewilderment. She hadn’t changed a bit. She still talked a mile a minute with a determination that was unstoppable. Problem was, he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Either way though, he knew it would be easier to let her have her way. He could deal. And it wasn’t like he needed to wrap presents or anything. “Fine, all the stuff is in the storage closet down the hall, next to the garage. If you want a tree, I can have one brought in.”
“A real tree? I brought my tiny miniature one, but that would be even better.”
He blinked. “You travel with your own Christmas tree?” He put his hands up. “You know what? Never mind. Okay, I’ll call and have it brought in.”
She grinned and in that minute, she looked every bit the fun eighteen-year-old she’d been. “Cool, you just let me take care of everything.”
He stared after her as she pranced down the hall. This was a mistake. He could feel it in his bones. But there wasn’t much he could do to stop the train.
* * *
Jamie rested her hand on the wall of the storage room, the dust particles dancing in the streams of light. Holy hell, she’d just agreed to stay here with Cole. You. Are. An. Idiot.
You were thinking you have work to do and don’t have time to run around trying to find a place to sleep. But Cole? This was stupid. How was she supposed to ignore that undercurrent for a week? Let alone ten days. Was it possible to die from embarrassment? Or longing? That had to be a real thing right?
Focus, Jamison. Get the decorations up and then you can work. And maybe even enjoy a little bit of Christmas. She’d been expecting to be in a basic room. She couldn’t believe Cole had a luxury suite and wasn’t using it to go all out on the holiday celebration.
The ceiling soared and the color palette was a very contemporary shade of yellow. The furniture was contemporary and light. But there was so much texture. Cotton, flannel throws, a pop of velvet here. And then of course, there was the enormous fireplace serving as the focal point. And the massive iron-and-glass lighting fixture up above made the room dance in light.
And the far wall was made entirely of glass. If she looked hard enough, she’d likely see deer roaming the property.
She’d get some stuff set up, then do some work. Maybe bake some cookies as a reward. The kitchen was all kitted out with granite counters and the nicest appliances she’d ever seen. Not that Cole looked like he planned on taking advantage of them.
Do what you came to do, not to reminisce about Cole. What happened was stupid kid stuff. It belongs in the past.
But as Jamie pushed away from the wall and started to unpack the boxes of lights, her mind automatically took her back to that long-ago night.
Frank O’Connor’s parties were sort of legendary. That night, things hadn’t gotten into full swing yet because the basketball team had been at an away game and was delayed. So her brother wasn’t there yet. It was mostly a bunch of bored kids sitting around drinking.
Nothing extraordinary until Marcie Gates, Frank’s girlfriend, suggested they make things exciting with some spin the bottle. Or at least a version of it.
A lot of interesting things had happened after that. Frank and Marcie got in a huge argument because he’d had too much fun making out with Carrie Moss in the closet and she’d let Fitz Jacobson touch her boobs.
Jamie hadn’t even wanted to play really. She’d just been down there holding her first beer, trying to blend in with the cool kids before Matt arrived. If he’d seen her he’d have flipped out and told their parents. And there would have been a ban on all future parties. As big brothers went, he was pretty overprotective.
Usually, she didn’t even go to parties unless Matt was there. Not like anyone thought to invite her. Sure, she was Matt’s sister, so she was accepted into the cool-kids crew by his insistence, but she wasn’t one of them. Not one of the pretty people. But when Marcie had asked her if she was going, she’d said yes and dragged her friend Claire with her. Too bad Claire had ditched her in favor of giggling with one of the hockey players.
Cole had been there. Hell, he was always there in the background. As was the way with banes of existence. If he told her brother that she’d been drinking, she’d be toast. Just her luck, when it was her turn, the spinning bottle had landed on the empty space that he walked right into. Even now she could feel the heat on her face as he’d studied her.
A moment later, he’d been dragging her into the closet to read her the riot act about being irresponsible, and drinking and how she should know better. It was like dealing with Matt. Of course he’d pointed out that she’d been drinking at a party with no one looking out for her. He’d gone on and on about how things would be perceived by other people. She could still remember struggling against his hold and muttering, “I’m not drinking. I’ve been muscling through the first sips of this beer to fit in with everyone. I don’t know how you guys can drink that stuff.”
He really hadn’t liked it when she pointed out that by dragging her into the closet, things didn’t look good for either of them.
It was clear to everyone on the outside that they weren’t making out so Frank insisted they could come out only if they actually made out.
Jamie’s skin still burned at the memory. It was like they all knew she was the squeaky-clean good girl. As if she wore it like a brand.
Cole had just rolled his eyes and told her to sit down and be quiet for a few minutes and Frank would eventually let them out.
“Are you serious right now?”
He’d scoffed. “Frank’s being a prick, but you’re Matt’s sister so he won’t mess with you too much. Just moan at the door or something.”
Jamie frowned. “What?”
“You know, moan, like you’re doing something fun.”
She’d tried, but she sounded more like she was in pain than any of the sexy moans she’d heard in movies.
“Geez, Jamison, it’s like you have no idea how to pretend like you’re having a good time.”
Frank had banged on the door again to remind them of what they were supposed to be doing.
She threw up her hands. “I have no idea how to do it. I’ve never hooked up with anyone before,” she spilled. “So why don’t you try your hand at moaning?”
He blinked. “Bull.”
She shook her head. “No bull. So, I’m sorry I don’t have it right or whatever.” Jamie recalled Cole’s eyes raking over her inducing a wave of heat as if it were yesterday.
Cole had banged his head against the back of the closet and squeezed his eyes shut. “You have to at least have kissed someone right? I heard you were going out with Adam Sinclair or something.”
She