Read Online Cole's Christmas Wish by Tracy Madison - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Tracy Madison
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real man in my life,
not a pretend one.” She scowled at each of her brothers. “It’s your fault I’m
single. You’ve scared every interested man off, all three of you.”
“I thought you had a date tomorrow night? With that nice young
man that manages the bookstore?” their mother asked. “Has something
changed?”
“What man?” Reid said.
“Do I know this guy?” Dylan asked.
“See?” Haley groaned and proceeded to explain that who she
dated wasn’t anyone’s business but her own.
From there, the conversation turned completely away from Cole.
He listened as his brothers teased Haley, joined in here and there, but mostly
stayed in his own head, thinking about Rachel. They were meeting tomorrow, to
shop for “Cupcake,” to go along with the romancing-the-pretend-girlfriend plan
he’d outlined over lunch.
One gift a day—preferably a gift of a romantic, personal
nature—leading up to Christmas, which was when, he’d explained to Rachel, he’d
get down on one knee and propose. The gifts, of course, would all relate to
Rachel in some form or fashion. To their relationship.
He appreciated the irony that Rachel would have a hand in
choosing the gifts based on what Cole told her about his “girlfriend,” when, in
fact, every description would be about Rachel. Would she catch on? Probably not.
Most people didn’t, or couldn’t, see themselves as others did. But she
might.
Rachel was an intelligent woman, after all. She could very well
recognize herself in Cole’s words, confront him, and then—after hearing him
out—give him a sweet, pitying smile, a hug, and say, “I’m flattered, Cole, but I
love Andrew. I thought you knew that.”
Cole grimaced and tried to put the God-awful thought out of his
head. Because, frankly, being kicked in the balls sounded a hell of a lot more
appealing. Not to mention, infinitely less painful. And yeah, that pretty much
said it all, didn’t it?
* * *
“Wait a minute. You’re coming here? For Christmas?”
Rachel said into her cell from her parked car on early Friday afternoon. No, no,
no. The last thing she needed was her mother’s special brand of craziness for
the holidays. Especially now. “I thought you were staying with Dad, because of
some important Christmas party he insisted you attend. What changed?”
“Everything,” Candace Merriday said, her voice cool and
unrelenting. “I am no longer interested in giving that
man anything he wants or insists upon. Not after what he’s done.”
“Hmm,” Rachel said, ignoring the opening. When she was a child,
she loved watching repeats of the old television program Lost in Space . Now, quite clearly, she heard the Robot’s voice in
her head, saying, “Danger! Danger, Rachel Merriday.”
She didn’t need the warning. Asking any questions, showing even
the minutest amount of curiosity or interest or concern, would put her smack in
the middle of the battlefield. Or, as Cole used to say, she’d become the tennis
ball her parents lobbied back and forth, each swing harder than the last, until
the ball split apart.
Not a pretty picture, but somehow, despite her best efforts to
remove herself from the equation, she almost always became the tennis ball.
Right now, though, she didn’t have the strength or the time to deal with her
parents’ latest crisis. She was meeting Cole in less than ten minutes, and she
wasn’t sure she’d be able to muster the strength for that.
Her mother heaved a long, drawn-out, dramatic sigh. “Are you
there, Rachel Marie?”
“Yes, Mom. Still here.”
“I thought I lost you. The connection between our phones tends
to be spotty.”
Well, no. Their connection was fine. What she referred to were
the frequent gaps in conversation whenever they were on the phone. Rachel stayed
quiet, let her mother do most of the talking and only responded when
necessary.
It was easier that way.
“Are you definitely coming here for Christmas?” she asked,
because securing that
not a pretend one.” She scowled at each of her brothers. “It’s your fault I’m
single. You’ve scared every interested man off, all three of you.”
“I thought you had a date tomorrow night? With that nice young
man that manages the bookstore?” their mother asked. “Has something
changed?”
“What man?” Reid said.
“Do I know this guy?” Dylan asked.
“See?” Haley groaned and proceeded to explain that who she
dated wasn’t anyone’s business but her own.
From there, the conversation turned completely away from Cole.
He listened as his brothers teased Haley, joined in here and there, but mostly
stayed in his own head, thinking about Rachel. They were meeting tomorrow, to
shop for “Cupcake,” to go along with the romancing-the-pretend-girlfriend plan
he’d outlined over lunch.
One gift a day—preferably a gift of a romantic, personal
nature—leading up to Christmas, which was when, he’d explained to Rachel, he’d
get down on one knee and propose. The gifts, of course, would all relate to
Rachel in some form or fashion. To their relationship.
He appreciated the irony that Rachel would have a hand in
choosing the gifts based on what Cole told her about his “girlfriend,” when, in
fact, every description would be about Rachel. Would she catch on? Probably not.
Most people didn’t, or couldn’t, see themselves as others did. But she
might.
Rachel was an intelligent woman, after all. She could very well
recognize herself in Cole’s words, confront him, and then—after hearing him
out—give him a sweet, pitying smile, a hug, and say, “I’m flattered, Cole, but I
love Andrew. I thought you knew that.”
Cole grimaced and tried to put the God-awful thought out of his
head. Because, frankly, being kicked in the balls sounded a hell of a lot more
appealing. Not to mention, infinitely less painful. And yeah, that pretty much
said it all, didn’t it?
* * *
“Wait a minute. You’re coming here? For Christmas?”
Rachel said into her cell from her parked car on early Friday afternoon. No, no,
no. The last thing she needed was her mother’s special brand of craziness for
the holidays. Especially now. “I thought you were staying with Dad, because of
some important Christmas party he insisted you attend. What changed?”
“Everything,” Candace Merriday said, her voice cool and
unrelenting. “I am no longer interested in giving that
man anything he wants or insists upon. Not after what he’s done.”
“Hmm,” Rachel said, ignoring the opening. When she was a child,
she loved watching repeats of the old television program Lost in Space . Now, quite clearly, she heard the Robot’s voice in
her head, saying, “Danger! Danger, Rachel Merriday.”
She didn’t need the warning. Asking any questions, showing even
the minutest amount of curiosity or interest or concern, would put her smack in
the middle of the battlefield. Or, as Cole used to say, she’d become the tennis
ball her parents lobbied back and forth, each swing harder than the last, until
the ball split apart.
Not a pretty picture, but somehow, despite her best efforts to
remove herself from the equation, she almost always became the tennis ball.
Right now, though, she didn’t have the strength or the time to deal with her
parents’ latest crisis. She was meeting Cole in less than ten minutes, and she
wasn’t sure she’d be able to muster the strength for that.
Her mother heaved a long, drawn-out, dramatic sigh. “Are you
there, Rachel Marie?”
“Yes, Mom. Still here.”
“I thought I lost you. The connection between our phones tends
to be spotty.”
Well, no. Their connection was fine. What she referred to were
the frequent gaps in conversation whenever they were on the phone. Rachel stayed
quiet, let her mother do most of the talking and only responded when
necessary.
It was easier that way.
“Are you definitely coming here for Christmas?” she asked,
because securing that
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