Page 28 of Big Package
Her gaze sharpened. Behind me, Cole stopped moving.
“I’m not discussing this,” I said.
She gave me a too-wide smile. “Maybe I was going to compliment his hospitality.”
“You’ve never complimented anyone’s hospitality in your entire life.”
Cole picked up the bottom section of tree. “Where do you want this?”
Janice paused next to him on her way out. “Nice work getting her back to town safely.”
“Yep.”
She gave me a look over her shoulder that said we’d be continuing this conversation later.
After Janice left, we rebuilt the wishing tree in the front window. The second assembly went faster, mostly because Cole had learned that when I said a branch was upside down, there was a reasonable chance I was right. When he tightened the last bolt, the reclaimed wood glowed under the white lights I’d wrapped around the base, and empty hooks waited among the branches for wishes. It was exactly what I’d pictured, but even better.
I pulled the stack of blank tags from a box. WHAT DO YOU WISH FOR? was printed across the front of each one in dark green.
I held one out toward him. “You should do the first one.”
Cole shook his head.
“Come on. Everybody wants something.”
His gaze settled on mine, and the teasing bled out of the moment so fast that my smile faded. “You saved Christmas. You should start the tradition.”
He still didn’t take it. Instead, he reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a tag of his own. It was folded in half and creased, like it had been handled more than once. There was writing on the inside. I could see the shadow of it through the paper.
“When did you—”
“Doesn’t matter.”
He hung it from one of the higher branches, and I immediately stepped closer.
He caught my hand. “Leave it.”
His thumb rested on the inside of my wrist, right where my pulse had decided to pound faster and harder.
“It’s hanging in my store. I’m eventually going to see it.”
“No, you won’t.”
“What if it comes true?”
His gaze stayed on mine. “Then you’ll know.”
I was beginning to understand that Cole offered things in pieces, and prying at the rest made him shut down completely. So I let him have this one.
I wrote my own wish on the tag he hadn’t taken and stretched onto my tiptoes to hang it next to his.
“Are you going to tell me what you wrote on yours?” he asked.
“No. That would defeat the purpose of the wish.”
“Convenient.”
The bell jingled, and I settled into the rhythm of running Wrapped on Main. With the improvement in the weather and with Christmas right around the corner, the shop was busy for the next few hours. I rang up gifts, wrapped boxes, answered questions about the upcoming festival, and set out the new inventory.
