door with casseroles in hand and then go away without them, but she hadn’t seen Finn. Today he was all cool pirate again, his expression unreadable, even with bright presents stacked high in his arms.
“It looks as if we both can be soft-hearted on occasion,” he said. “Unless you only dropped by our friend Angel’s place to debunk the Santa myth this time.”
She’d told the little boy that, which meant she’d had to follow through with providing a small measure of Christmas magic, didn’t she? Gifts from a couple of near-perfect strangers should do that.
“The family isn’t home,” she told Finn, which she thought made the whole thing even better. Anonymous gifts were pretty darn close to Santa Claus, weren’t they? “But I left mine with the landlady and she promised to pass them along once they return later today.”
“I’ll do the same,” he said. “Thanks for the tip.” With a businesslike nod, he started to move past her. As if
“Finn.”
He paused. “Yeah?”
“Well…Um…” Bailey wiped her palms on her jeans and tried not to remember that this was the man who’d made love to her with such fierce tenderness that she could still feel the imprint of his mouth on the skin between her shoulder blades. She tried not to remember the heated scorn in his voice when he’d told her on the beach she was nothing to him. That he didn’t trust her.
She’d known from the beginning he was a man without patience for pretending.
“My mother wanted to invite you over for Christmas Eve dinner.” Bailey didn’t add that she’d immediately nixed the idea, but Tracy would be happy to add another plate to the table even now. “We’re having turkey and all the trimmings around five.”
“You tell her thanks for me…but no.” He made to move off again.
Move out of her life. Okay, she was the one leaving, but just like…like this?
“Finn.”
He turned again.
And he was so beautiful to her, she didn’t think she could choke out a good-bye. Maybe she didn’t deserve one.
“GND?”
Bailey jerked the thoughts out of her head. Tried a smile. “Nothing. Just…nothing.”
And the last she saw of him was the shrug as he walked away.
The fog deepened as she traveled the half block to her car. Champagne bubble-sized drops of moisture clung to the ends of her hair. As if there was anything worth celebrating, she grumbled to herself, unlocking her door.
Except, of course, the fact that she would be back in L.A. tomorrow.
She slipped inside, then reached over to dump her purse on the passenger seat. It was already occupied.
On it sat a small package, wrapped in Christmas paper printed with mistletoe. As if it might bite, Bailey put out a finger and touched the cool top. There wasn’t any gift tag.
But it had to be for her. And she knew of only one person whose early career included breaking into cars.
There weren’t any instructions included either. Nothing that said, “Wait until Christmas” or “Open me now.”
There didn’t have to be. Even without any words, it was already shouting at Bailey.
When is that? Bailey thought, staring at the package. Maybe she should have asked her father the question ten years before. When is it too soon…and when is it too late to save what’s left of your heart?
Charlie Brown asks in
Chapter 25
“You’re sure you won’t stay for Christmas dinner?” her mother asked, as Bailey stowed her suitcases in the trunk of the Passat.
She shook her head. “If I leave now, I’ll get to L.A. before the holiday afternoon traffic heats up. Anyway, we had the good stuff last night and for breakfast this morning. I think I’ll pass on the tuna noodle casserole.”
Tracy smiled, her gaze turning to the basketball game going on between her son and husband in the driveway. “I suppose I shouldn’t have promised dinner tonight would be Harry’s choice.”
Looking over, Bailey had to smile too. Her little brother had been inhaling food since the first moment he’d walked in the door. Apparently Cheerios, Hot Pockets, Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, and rocky road ice cream were not available at UC Berkeley, or didn’t deliver quite the same punch of flavor.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t get him to commit to the store.” She’d cornered him during his third piece of pumpkin pie and floated the notion that he might want to take over The Perfect Christmas after college.
“Oh, honey,” her mother said, reaching out to tuck a lock of Bailey’s hair behind her ear. “Don’t feel bad. Not only wasn’t that your job, but Harry’s too young to commit to
Bailey nodded. “You’re right. I remember myself at that age.” Running away from home and from Finn. See? Too young to get in too deep. Smart enough to realize that.
Tracy laughed. “Oh well,
“You always knew what you wanted the minute you saw it.”
“Yes, well, I’m pretty good at knowing what I don’t want too.”
Tracy’s expression turned sad, and she brushed at that errant piece of Bailey’s hair again. “I was miserable for a long time, and I’m afraid I made you miserable right along with me. I should have been your rock, and instead you were mine.”
Bailey’s calf itched and she used the toe of one sneaker to attack the phantom bite, hoping that easing the scratch would ease the memory of broken sobs echoing in an empty bathtub. “Mom-”
“I can’t help but think I taught you that trusting people could get you hurt.” There were tears in Tracy’s eyes.
Bailey turned away from them. “It’s okay, Mom.”
“It’s not. What I have with Dan…I wouldn’t want you to miss out on that.” She let out a watery laugh. “Okay, okay, I see by the expression on your face that you’re not entirely convinced that Dan and I are on strong footing again.”
“Maybe I’m convinced of the strong
“I can only answer that the way I answered when you asked me why I let you date Finn. I don’t feel like I have any choice.” Her mouth curved as her gaze drifted toward her husband, crowing because he’d just beat Harry for the rebound.
Inside the house, the phone started ringing. Tracy grimaced. “I doubt the men will stop their game to answer that.”
“I’m on my way, Mom. Go ahead and get it. I’ll call you when I get home.”
