How could a woman wearing a flashing Christmas tree sweater look so hot?
That’s the question Cole was asking himself as he watched Kelli bustle around getting the children all lined up to go onstage. As the youngest of the classes, they’d go on first, but from the way they were bouncing off the walls, it looked as if they’d each ingested a pound of sugar.
He figured a drill instructor with a busload of green recruits would have had an easier job, though she seemed to be not only taking it all in stride, but actually enjoying herself.
Until, as if she felt him looking at her, she glanced over at him.
He flashed her a friendly two-thumbs-up. Only to have her turn away and begin straightening a tiny angel’s halo.
So much for cupcake diplomacy.
Apparently, although she’d claimed otherwise, she was still holding a grudge from last Christmas. Which he couldn’t exactly make amends for since he still wasn’t sure what he’d done.
Okay, except get engaged. He’d rerun that scene over and over again in his head and still wasn’t certain what had happened. He’d thought for sure Kelli would’ve been happy for him. The same way he would have been happy for her if the situation had been reversed.
That thought had him wondering just how far things had gone between her and the principal. Had Archer taken her to bed yet? Cole hadn’t gotten the vibes that they’d actually gone there. But it was obvious during that little exchange on the pier that the guy had staked his claim. So, it was only a matter of time.
And what business is it of yours? a nagging little voice in the back of his mind piped up.
It wasn’t. Not really. It wasn’t like he had any reason to be jealous. Or pissed.
She wasn’t his. She’d never been.
Whose fault is that?
“Shut up,” he muttered.
“Did you say something, darling?” his grandmother, who was passing by with a pair of sparkly angel wings, asked.
“No. I was just talking to myself.”
“Doesn’t Kelli look festive?” she asked.
“She definitely lights up the room.” Literally.
When a mental image of slowly peeling that flashing sweater up her body, kissing each bit of soft rosy flesh while revealing whatever lace she might be wearing beneath it caused his jeans to go painfully tight, Cole wondered where the hell her boyfriend had taken off to. If Kelli were his woman, he sure as hell wouldn’t leave her alone where just any guy—like him, maybe—could hit on her with a toasted-coconut-topped piña colada cupcake.
The older woman laughed at that. “She does, indeed. And the children adore her. Watching her these past weeks as we’ve worked on the play has made me realize what a wonderful mother she’ll make.”
Her hair had darkened from the pale blond of childhood to a deep, rich honey. She’d tamed it into a complicated braid that reached to the middle of her back. He was envisioning unweaving it and letting the waves tumble over her bare shoulders when his grandmother’s words belatedly sank in.
His stomach dropped. Then clenched.
“She’s not pregnant?”
“Oh no.” A cool flood of relief swept over him as she waved away that question with a quick flick of the wrist. “Although”—she lowered her voice, as if any conversation could be kept private in this town—“there have been rumors that Bradford Archer was seen in Olson’s jewelry store last week.”
“I imagine Olson’s gets a lot of business this time of year,” Cole said through set teeth. Hadn’t he shopped there last time he’d been home? “Was he looking for a ring?”
“I’ve no idea.” She shrugged her shoulders. “There’s always speculation when two young people start seeing each other. You know how Shelter Bay is. Rumors are always flying around. And Connie Olson is neither confirming nor denying.”
“Well.” Cole blew out a breath as he considered the possibilities.
Which weren’t good. If she did end up getting engaged to the guy, she’d be making a terrible mistake. While Archer seemed nice enough, he was as bland as the tapioca pudding his mother used to make for him and his brothers whenever they’d get the flu.
Kelli was too full of life to spend the rest of her days married to man who couldn’t fully appreciate her. Or satisfy her. Even though Cole had never so much as kissed her (not that he hadn’t been sorely tempted earlier this evening), watching her now, with all her warmth and vibrant animation, he knew she’d wither away from boredom before her first anniversary.
Deciding that he wouldn’t be a true friend if he didn’t at least try to head her off at the pass before she made the same kind of impulsive, wrongheaded decision he’d made, Cole decided to invite her to breakfast at the Grateful Bread tomorrow morning.
Not a date, he’d assure her. Just a chance to catch up and clear the air. She’d always been levelheaded. Surely she’d understand that if he did return to town for good, they’d have to move on, not just for their own sakes, but also for their families, who’d be affected by any rift.
“Give the girl time,” his grandmother said. “She has a level enough head not to make a mistake that important.”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” Damn, he’d lied more in the last few days than he had his entire last tour of duty in Afghanistan.
“You’re thinking about warning her against accepting Bradford Archer’s proposal,” Adèle said.
“I didn’t think anyone knew if there was going to be a proposal.”
“My point exactly. Kelli may look like spun cotton candy, but the girl’s always had a mind of her own. Like someone else I know,” she tacked on pointedly. “If you start trying to steer her in one direction, there’s a good chance she’ll take off entirely in the other.”
“We’re friends. Were anyway.”
“And if you want to be more, don’t go rushing things.”
“Who said I want it to be more?”
“Your face,” his grandmother said. “When she was opening that pink box, you were looking down at her as if she were an entire tray of cupcakes and you’d been starving for too long.”
She knew him too well. He’d learned as a kid, like when he’d tried to take the blame for Sax breaking the Carpenters’ front window with a curveball that had gone wildly out of control, that nothing got by Adèle Douchett.
When he and his brothers were young, she’d informed them that her own grandmère had been a traiteur, or healer, and seer. For years they’d been convinced that she truly did have eyes in the back of her head.
She didn’t need that extra set of eyes as she glanced over at the object of their discussion, who was—damn—smiling up at the principal who’d finally shown up. “Give it time to play out.”
If there was one thing being a Recon Marine had taught Cole, it was patience. And given how badly he’d screwed up last Christmas, he was willing to give his grandmother credit for knowing Kelli’s female mind better than he did.
“I don’t remember saying anything about wanting it to be more.”
“Just because I’m old doesn’t mean I can’t see what’s right in front of my eyes,” she said mildly. “Think of it as another mission,” she suggested. “Don’t go rushing in without taking time to plan your strategy. Take a few days at the cabin. Give her time to realize she misses you.” Her smile danced in her dark eyes. “And then you can come back and make your move.”
Even as he felt an unexpected and decidedly unwelcome whip-sting of jealousy as he watched Kelli merrily chatting away with Archer, Cole managed a laugh. “You know, Grandmère, if the Pentagon had you planning battle strategy, all our troops would’ve been home years ago.”
She went up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Now, where have I heard that before?”