“She okay?” he asked quietly, nodding toward Noelle who’d already drifted off.
“Yeah, she’s fine,” I assured him.
“Sorry your Christmas is ruined,” he grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.
The look on his face made the butterflies in my stomach flutter. There was something about him. From the moment we stepped into his garage, Chris had me intrigued. The man didn’t like Christmas, that much was obvious, but he hadn’t flinched in trying to make the best of it for Noelle and me.
“It’s not ruined, just different.”
“How can we give her the best Christmas yet?” Chris asked, and my head snapped back.
I looked at the man, really looked at him, and almost jumped into his arms. I didn’t know his story, hell, I barely knew him, but I wanted to hug him.
I dropped my voice to barely a whisper. “I need to get out to my car,” I told him.
“Let’s go then,” he replied, reaching down and taking my hand in his.
We both froze.
We stared down at our fingers, still laced together.
It had all happened so quickly, so naturally I hadn’t flinched when he’d done it.
Chris dropped my hand and took a step back. “I … I …”
“Let’s go before she wakes?” I offered him an out before inching around the mattress and out the door.
The moment I stepped out of the office into the wide expanse of the garage, I shivered. It was freezing in there and I wasn’t dressed for it.
“We should hurry before we turn to icicles,” Chris suggested, leading the way toward where my sad-looking car was sitting.
I reached the car and popped the trunk.
“What are we looking for?” Chris asked as I started rummaging through.
We’d been headed to the ski lodge, so the car was packed high with all the things we’d need. Boots, jackets, ski pants and goggles.
“There’s a black bag under that stuff,” I started, pointing to one side.
Carefully, almost like everything was breakable, he shifted things, trying to balance them.
“It’s fine. Just put it on the ground,” I assured him, lifting my own bag out and setting it down.
“You sure?” Chris asked, with a garment bag hanging on his finger.
“Yep!” I said, popping the ‘p’.
A few minutes later, the entire contents of my car were on the ground, and Chris was holding the black sports bag. “I’m guessing this is the one?”
“Yeah. It’s a few things.”
“I’m sure she’ll love it.”
“I hope so.”
There was no point denying it. I was worried. Noelle wasn’t a greedy kid and didn’t ask for much, but she was still a six-year-old. If there weren't presents and paper everywhere she’d be disappointed, and I’d feel like a failure.
Together we packed up the car silently. I was caught up in my head. This wasn’t the Christmas I’d been hoping for, and itcertainly wasn’t what we had planned, but we’d make the best of it. It wasn’t until Chris was closing the trunk and swinging the bag over his shoulder that I realized I didn’t have a gift for him. I hadn’t planned on meeting Chris, and I certainly hadn’t planned on crashing his hibernation and hiding from the holidays, but being empty-handed didn’t sit right with me. Even though I had gifts for my father in the car, some new novelty socks Noelle had chosen, and a new set of golf club head covers, I didn’t think they were really Chris. I’d left the homemade cookies and candies at home and was wishing I’d brought them. I got the feeling that was something Chris would appreciate. Being taken care of. Being appreciated. Being cherished. He might be grumpy on the outside, and I may have only known him a short time, but there was a gooey soft marshmallow under the surface who deserved to be cared for.
