Sandpiper Way (Cedar Cove #8)(67)

Feeling morose and sorry for herself, Christie left the park and strolled along the waterfront. She could still hear the music as she paused in front of the marina and watched the sailboats. Many of them had Christmas lights strung on their masts, and a few had Christmas trees on their decks.

As she turned away, ready to go back to her car, she saw that the library had set up a huge barrel to collect new toys for disadvantaged children. Growing up, she’d been one of those children.

That was when she knew exactly how she wanted to spend Christmas. She’d volunteer to deliver food baskets and gifts. Instead of moping around, filled with self-pity, she’d do something positive. More than one person had generously reached out to her when she was a hurting little girl, and now it was her turn to help others.

Yes, that was what she’d do. And if she couldn’t deliver gifts, perhaps she could serve dinner at a nursing home Christmas Day.

Feeling better, Christie hurried back to her car and drove home. When she got there, she was astonished to see James parked outside her apartment.

He climbed out of his car when she stepped out of hers.

Her heart pounded furiously as he came toward her.

“I’m going to be a volunteer,” she said excitedly, needing to tell someone about her momentous decision.

He blinked as though she’d spoken in a foreign language.

“If I can, I’m going to deliver charity baskets and gifts to underprivileged children on Christmas Eve.” She laughed at his puzzled expression. “I was feeling sorry for myself, and then it occurred to me that what I need to do is reach out to someone else.” All at once she realized that she didn’t know why he was there.

She stopped and waited for him to tell her.

James never seemed to find it easy to explain himself.

When he didn’t say anything, she asked, “Do you want to volunteer with me?”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“Would you like…” She almost said a beer. “Tea,” she offered instead.

“Yes, please,” he said with a grin.

She led him into her apartment, which was clean for a change. It wasn’t the Ritz, by any means, but at least it was comfortable. In a burst of holiday enthusiasm she’d strung a tinsel garland across her drapery rod and stuck a ceramic snowman in the middle of her coffee table.

James folded his coat neatly and laid it on the back of her sofa.

“Did you, um, have a reason for coming?” she asked as she filled her teakettle.

“Where did you go?” he asked, which seemed to be a habit of his—answering a question with a question.

“Down to the waterfront. The high school band’s is putting on a Christmas concert. I listened to the music for a while and that’s when I decided to be a volunteer.”

“Why at Christmas, though?”

She didn’t want to tell him she didn’t have anywhere to go. It was too personal, too…embarrassing. Too sad. “Payback,” she told him. “Someone was kind to me when I was a little girl without a gift at Christmas. Now I’m returning that kindness.”

“It’s a very thoughtful thing to do.”

Rather than discuss the worthiness of her idea, she said, “You didn’t answer my question. Why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you. I thought you’d go to The Pink Poodle.”

She almost had. “You wanted to see me. That’s sweet.”

He nodded rather sheepishly.

“I like you, James.”

There it was—without a lot of fancy words to dress it up—just the plain truth. He could accept it or reject it and frankly, she wasn’t sure which he’d do.

His gaze held hers for a moment, and then the most enchanting smile fell into place. “I like you, too.”

That was as big an admission as he’d ever made in their decidedly odd relationship. Fearing he’d see the joy it gave her, she busied herself getting tea bags and sugar from the cupboard.

As soon as their tea was ready, she carried the two mugs to the small coffee table and set them on her Christmas coasters. There was only the one sofa, so she had no choice but to sit next to James.

He waited until she’d sipped from her tea before he picked up his own mug.

“I’m glad you came,” she said, not looking at him.

“I am, too.” He paused, then added, “I like your hair.”

She’d almost forgotten she’d had it cut. “Thank you.”

“You’re very pretty.”

Christie was accustomed to flattery. Most men seemed to know exactly what to say in order to get what they wanted from her. She listened to their lies because she so badly needed to believe they were true. James’s three words meant more to her than any compliment she’d ever received.

For several minutes she couldn’t respond. “Thank you,” she murmured at last. “Do you want to kiss me again?” she asked, only half joking.

He took her seriously. “Yes, but not yet. Later.”

She nearly laughed out loud. Later? Any other man would’ve had her in bed by now. They would’ve found more interesting ways of keeping warm than sipping tea.

“I don’t know anything about you,” she said.

“I realize that.”

“You’ve been Bobby’s driver for how many years?” She waited for him to answer. He didn’t.