Read A Cowboy Under My Christmas Tree Online
Authors: Janet Dailey
A Cowboy Under My Christmas Tree (13 page)
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He tossed the phone on the bed and started to fill the duffel. It took longer than he’d thought to fold the clean clothes and bag the dirty ones, and find all his socks.
Sam set the duffel by the trailer door and propped his Stetson on top of it. Then he looked out, catching a glimpse of a customer in a puffy down jacket. Male or female, he couldn’t tell. The hood was up and the person’s back was to him.
He stepped outside. “Can I help you?” Maybe the person hadn’t heard him, what with the hood. He waited another second.
“Oh, just looking,” said a muffled female voice.
“Nicole?”
She whirled around. “Sam? What are you doing here?”
“Ah, I live here. Or I did. I was just packing.” He pointed to the duffel bag.
“I like the Stetson,” she murmured. “Not too new. It has character. I may have to borrow that for a window.”
Sam shook his head. “Nope. Sorry. You can borrow anything but that.”
“Oh. Excuse me. I didn’t know it was that important.”
The faint huffiness in her tone surprised him. What was that all about? Hormones, maybe. Hard work, making her cranky. He didn’t really want to ask. “So how have you been? Greg’s keeping me busy. I was about to move this morning and then he called.”
“Into the sublet?”
He held up the key. “When he gets back, I’m going. It’s right up the street. Can’t wait.”
She took in the trailer in all its battered glory. “You were this close to where I live all this time?”
“Yup.” He smiled a little sheepishly. “Nothing to brag about.” Sam gestured toward it. “Not exactly a palace, is it? I would invite you in, but there’s nowhere to sit besides the bed.”
“No, thanks.” Nicole seemed to take the lack of space for granted. Or maybe she just didn’t want to get close yet. “So you must know Theo.”
“My friend Greg—I told you about him—is his nephew. I help out here sometimes.”
Sam didn’t want to explain about the truck that had just clipped the A-frame or what Theo had said about thugs muscling in on his business. He was just glad to see her. He’d been worried when she hadn’t returned his call. He and Greg had gone to Long Island and back since he’d last spoken to her.
“Oh.” She connected the dots. “Now I get it.” She gave him a guarded look.
“I guess I should have told you, huh?”
“Too late now.”
He just hadn’t found the right time, that was all. He did understand why she was being prickly about it. If his sister Annie had told him about some guy she just met with no fixed address, he’d tell her better safe than sorry.
But Sam got the feeling there was now an X beside his name in an invisible black book. He hadn’t done anything to deserve it.
He cleared his throat. “By the way, how come you didn’t call me back? I thought we were going to go to Chinatown.”
“I fell asleep again.” She gave him a look that said she didn’t think he was entitled to question her on the subject. “Off and on, anyway. Look, the ENJ gig was a bear and I still haven’t recovered from that. And I, um, hung out with my girlfriend Sharon and talked all night. Besides, mornings just aren’t the best time to call me.”
Sam got it. He wondered if his name had come up. No use speculating. Girls liked to talk. He glanced down, feeling a bit awkward.
Cute. Underneath the puffy jacket were owl-print pajamas stuffed into her winter boots.
He looked up. The jacket hood didn’t quite cover her dark hair. She pushed wayward locks away from her face with a mittened hand.
She wasn’t wearing makeup, but she didn’t need it. The frigid night air had put roses in her cheeks and reddened her lips. She looked even prettier than when they’d waited at the bus stop. But her dark eyes flashed with annoyance.
She wasn’t the only one who was tired. He worked long days that didn’t stop at sundown. Sam wasn’t feeling all that patient. Nicole was sauntering around, pretending to look at trees.
He counted to ten and back again. Then he proceeded to lose his temper. Quietly, but he lost it.
“Okay. I’m sorry I woke you up,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where I was living. I’m sorry I kissed you. I’m sorry for what I haven’t done yet.”
She lifted an eyebrow. He couldn’t read her mind or her expression. Outrage? Indifference? She was good at looking haughty. Right now it was rubbing him the wrong way. But maybe he should take the third apology back. He suspected she wouldn’t let him. He’d blown it again.
“And I’m really sorry I can’t keep my mouth shut sometimes.”
She glared at him. “Work on that.”
Sam raked a hand through his hair. “Let’s start over. I like you a lot, but I think I crossed a line with the romance stuff. The flowers, the kiss—I shouldn’t have.”
Nicole bit her lip, as if she was holding back some scornful comment. “You’re right.”
“So can we be friends?” Not what he wanted, but he wasn’t giving up.
She had turned her back to him. “How much is this tree?”
Sam was glad she couldn’t see his exasperation. He went over and stood next to her. The price tag was deep inside, wrapped around the trunk, but he found it.
“Seventy dollars. Theo would probably give it to you for half that.”
“I don’t want him to.” She moved to the next one. “I’m not ready to buy. I really am just looking.”
Maybe that applied to him too. She still hadn’t answered his question. He changed the subject.
“I guess it’s too late to go to Chinatown and that great little dumpling restaurant.”
“It closes at eight. It’s too late for anything much except going clubbing, and I hate clubs. All that earsplitting music and crazy showing off.” She looked at him suspiciously. “I hope that’s not on your list of things to do.”
“You’re not exactly dressed for it. Neither am I.” Sam had to smile a little. She wasn’t too bad at reading his mind, although she was wrong about the clubs. “How did you know I had a list?”
“Every New York tourist does.”
He ignored her condescending tone. Sam reached into the pocket of his shirt and unfolded his. “Times Square. Rockefeller Center. Brooklyn Bridge. Empire State Building and/or Top of the Rock. Staten Island Ferry,” he read. “Unless any of those are clubs, you’re safe. I assume you’ve been to most of them.”
She shot him an annoyed look. “Some but not all. If you actually grow up in New York, it’s not a priority. Don’t ask me why.”
Sam held up both hands in mock surrender. “Okay. Whatever you say. Does anything on the list appeal to you?”
Nicole half wanted to get over her pique and half didn’t. “What were the choices again?”
He skipped the whole list and went to what he wanted. “We could go skating at Rockefeller Center tomorrow.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Does that mean yes?” Sam asked carefully.
Nicole stuck her hands in her pockets. The action made the hood fall away from her head. Released, her hair shone under the Christmas lights of the tree stand. She shook it back.
“It means I don’t want to make a fool of myself by wobbling around the most famous ice rink in the world in rented skates.”
“That will make two of us.”
She wavered, then relented. “All right. But let’s go in the afternoon. I’d better get some ideas down on paper for the second window at Now. Darci is coming back in another week. Meet me at four.”
“Where?”
“I’ll wait outside my building,” she said after a moment.
“Want to walk or take a taxi?”
“A taxi takes forever in crosstown traffic. Rockefeller Center isn’t all that far from here. It’s about a fifteen-minute walk.”
“Fine with me.”
“All right. You’re on.” Nicole gave one last look around at the row of trees and the single strand of lights. “This place could use some better decorations.”
“Yeah, maybe so. I understand business is down a bit this year.”
“Spoken like a tree man.”
The glare of headlights pulling up startled him. He got between her and the street, then realized that they belonged to Greg’s SUV.
His pal was at the wheel. Greg killed the engine and the lights slowly dimmed. He got out.
“Hey, Sam. Thanks for staying.” Greg looked curiously at Nicole. “You look really familiar, but I don’t know your name. Do you live around here?”
“Two and a half blocks away. I buy a tree from Theo every year. I’m Nicole.”
Greg was all smiles. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Greg. Theo’s my uncle. So, you looking for a tree?”
“Just browsing.”
“Oh, okay. We can set one aside for you if you want.”
“Thanks. Not just yet,” she said. “It’s getting awfully late. I should be going. But I’ll be back.”
“I’ll walk you home,” Sam offered.
Greg looked at Sam and then back at Nicole. “I feel like I came in during the second act. Do you two know each other?”
“We’re friends.” Nicole smiled. “Just friends.”
Chapter 7
T
he next day they headed east, under a sky already turning dark at half past four. The deep blue above set off the brilliance of the giant electronic signs covering the facades of Times Square. The ever-changing colors seemed heightened by the cold air. Sam could barely make out the buildings behind the shimmering displays.
he next day they headed east, under a sky already turning dark at half past four. The deep blue above set off the brilliance of the giant electronic signs covering the facades of Times Square. The ever-changing colors seemed heightened by the cold air. Sam could barely make out the buildings behind the shimmering displays.
Nicole walked briskly through the dazzling, ever-changing brilliance, too used to it to gawk. But she seemed to be enjoying it. Sam was glad to have a New York native with him. The street signs nearly vanished amidst the visual extravaganza in constant motion.
Part of Broadway, which cut diagonally through the area, had been turned into a pedestrian thoroughfare. Signs and traffic stanchions funneled cars away, sometimes to the loud complaints of drivers who weren’t aware of the change in the world-famous square.
The river of people in the intersecting streets freely overflowed the curbs. It seemed to Sam like thousands upon thousands jostled for space, taking photos and videos while they walked, or just gazing up in wonder.
Couples and family groups headed for the red staircase that formed the roof of the TKTS booth to snap pictures. A few show-offs danced up and down its illuminated steps, singing, what else, show tunes. Kids clung to the railing, turning around at the top for the best view of the narrow building at the southern side.
“That’s where they drop the ball on New Year’s Eve,” Nicole told him. “Can you see it? It’s not lit up.”
Sam stopped to stare. He didn’t care if he looked like a tourist. It was all here. Fashion, theater, movies, music, candy, you name it—everything was advertised at colossal size and scale.
He looked to where she pointed. “Yes, I do. Wow.”
Nicole laughed. “It’s fun to come here with someone who’s never seen Times Square before.”
“Thanks for bringing me this way. It’s something else. Almost overwhelming when you’re in it.”
“I know what you mean. Come on. Turn right. Eyes front.”
He followed her, amazed all over again by the sudden quietness of the side street. There were no more gigantic signs and only a handful of tourists. He looked over his shoulder. The vast crowd of people behind him almost looked trapped in all the craziness, surging back and forth as if they couldn’t find their way out. Made him think of cattle in a chute.
A little of Times Square went a long way.
The mind-numbing sensation ebbed as they walked at an easy pace crosstown. The people here seemed to be leaving work, wearing somber-colored coats and jackets over business clothes.
He hoped the rink wouldn’t be too crowded this late in the day. But Nicole hadn’t said anything about it one way or another.
“We’re almost there,” she said. “That’s Sixth Avenue.”
Sam looked down the street and made out the neon marquee of Radio City Music Hall. Atop it were a row of giant toy soldiers, which fell backward with mathematical precision when a large cannon boomed.
“That’s the March of the Toy Soldiers from the Christmas Spectacular,” she told him. “It’s an annual show. That’s the one thing that doesn’t change from year to year.”
“Starring the Rockettes, am I right?”
“Yes.”
Sam watched the toy soldiers on the marquee stand up again. “I wish my father was here. He loves the Rockettes. Those brown velvet reindeer costumes and the little antler hats knock him out. He always wants to know how they do it.”
“Do what?”
“The high kicks. What else?”
“Practice.”
“It’s like precision machinery,” Sam went on. “With legs that go on and on—”
“Oh, shut up,” she said, faintly nettled.
“Sorry.”
Nicole was about to head for the other side of the street when a double-decker tour bus zoomed through the intersection. The people on top looked down at them curiously. Sam suddenly knew what a zoo animal felt like.
“Has your dad ever been to New York?”
“Never. But we watch the tree lighting every year,” he admitted. “My folks wouldn’t miss it for the world. My mother gets all misty-eyed and sings along with the Christmas carols.”
They had finally crossed Sixth Avenue in front of an unbroken line of yellow taxis waiting for the light to change.
“Watching it on TV is a lot easier than actually being there,” Nicole said. “If you think Times Square is overwhelming, try bucking the crowds at Rockefeller Center during that. You literally can’t move forward or back.”
“Really? They don’t show that.”
“Why would they?” Nicole asked wryly.
Sam noticed that the buff-colored buildings of Rockefeller Center were getting taller as they moved forward. Beams of white light rose to the heavens from an open space ahead of them. That had to be the rink. It wasn’t visible from where they walked. Neither was the giant tree.
But the silver and gold flags that outlined the viewing areas were. There seemed to be hundreds, a soft contrast to the subdued buff of the buildings that surrounded them. The year-round trees, now bare of leaves, had been carefully strung with delicate white lights, down to the smallest twig.
Nicole turned right. Sam looked up.
Towering in majesty above them was the great tree, adorned with jewel-colored lights and nothing else. The white light that seemed to emanate from the rink below illuminated the high ramparts of the tallest building in Rockefeller Center. The sight was breathtaking.
She stopped. “What do you think?”
“No words.”
Nicole laughed. “Look your fill. The Zamboni is on the rink right now.”
She moved to the black railings that let visitors peer down into the rink. After a moment Sam realized she had gone. He rubbed his neck and went to find her. The ice-smoothing machine lumbered around in circles, its driver in no hurry high up in the cab.
“I love watching those things.”
Sam leaned over the railing, looking down at the huge golden statue of a nearly nude male figure that presided over the rink. “Who is that guy?”
“Prometheus. Bringing fire to mankind.”
“I’d rather have a cup of hot cocoa. How about you?”
“Sure,” Nicole said. “We can get down to the lower concourse through one of these stores. You can see the rink from there too.”
They went into an upscale clothing establishment, with Nicole pausing now and then to check out the displays. Then they found a staircase and exited at the bottom into the elegant concourse with other fine stores and a fancy café.
They ordered two cocoas to go and sat at a burnished metal table to drink them, looking out at the rink through glass walls. The Zamboni was moving off the ice and a line of skaters waited to get out on it.
The novices and the little kids clumped awkwardly over the rubber tiling and headed immediately for the red railing. The confident ones soared out. Some started out with steady laps around the rink, and a few made figures and practiced professional-looking maneuvers.
Nicole raised her cup in a toast. “Here’s to the railing. I’m never letting go.”
Sam grinned at her. “It’s easier than you think. ”
Her eyes narrowed. “Is it, now. You led me to believe that you didn’t know how to do this.”
“I thought you’d never go if I told you I was a pretty good skater.”
Nicole finished her cocoa. “I’m here. Let’s do it.”
They had to go up the stairs, through the store, outside and down again to the other side of the rink, where the skates were rented. It wasn’t that crowded, but the small size of the available ice meant some waiting.
He made a point of looking in the other direction when she took off her coat. Nicole had decided on the shorts and thick tights combination. He seemed pleased to see it again when he turned back to her.
She slid her cell phone into one front pocket and a thin, small wallet into the other, and put on her skates, struggling with the laces until he kneeled down to do them for her.
“Aren’t you gallant,” she teased him.
“There’s a right way to do it and a wrong way. You want them comfortably tight.” His deft hands took care of that. He gave her a light slap on one calf. “There you go. Now stand up.”
Nicole made a face. “Do I have to?”
“Like you said, you’re here. You want to.”
“You stand up first.”
Sam obeyed. He seemed to have grown at least a foot taller, even though Nicole knew that the skate blades only added a few inches. But they made his legs look fabulously long and strong. Like the rest of him.
He reached out and pulled her up.
Hanging onto Sam’s hand for dear life, Nicole clumped across the black rubber tiles. He clumped too.
But when he reached the opening to the rink, he uncurled her fingers and rested her hand on the railing. Nicole clutched it and pressed herself against the see-through side.
Sam skated away, swinging his arms, moving effortlessly over the ice. She watched him, hypnotized. Until she felt a bump from behind.
A middle-aged woman in a polka-dot parka smiled tentatively at her.
“Isn’t this fun? Mind if I get by? I don’t want to let go either.”
Nicole gulped. She let go and scraped her skates back and forth very quickly, reaching for the railing in back of the woman. She caught it just before she lost her balance.
The polka dots moved on. Sam caught up with her, doing a one-skate-in-back-of-the-other thing that had him balancing on one leg and coming to a stop that kicked up a nifty spray of ice.
“Good going,” he said. “Want to try skating with me?”
“No. I really, really like this railing. It’s my new best friend.”
“You don’t need it. Come on,” he coaxed her.
His few turns around the rink had brought that high color into his face that she liked so much. His smoky blue eyes shone with amusement. She wanted to plunge her hands into his wind-ruffled hair just to ...just to have something else to hang onto besides the railing.
Sam had lifted her hands away from it. He held them in his own and skated backward slowly, helping her move forward.
Without knowing how, Nicole realized that she was skating. Not too well, but not too badly.
“Keep going. Don’t stop to think. You’re a natural. ”
She beamed. “I am?”
“Yeah!”
“How about that—whoops!” Nicole was suddenly flat on her back on the ice. “I fell.” She was astonished that it hadn’t hurt. Sam looked taller than ever.
“Yes, you did. Now get up before you get shredded.”
She sat up, looking anxiously at the oncoming skaters. They swung around her, keeping their momentum without a backward glance.
“I was kidding.” Sam laughed. “This isn’t a hockey game. No one’s going to hurt you.”
He helped her up and off they went again, Sam skating backward, Nicole moving forward to him. He held her hands more loosely this time, but every once in a while he let go, still keeping his hands where she could reach them if she wanted to. She had to bend forward a bit from the waist to do that.
“Bend your knees some.”
It seemed to help.
“Use your thigh muscles.”
That did too.
“Don’t look down. Don’t look back. Find your rhythm.”
That seemed like excellent advice for living, not just skating. She kept going.
“You got it. You’re skating.”
Nicole didn’t say a word. She really was.
She was aglow with triumph when it was time to leave the rink and return the skates. Her legs ached. Nicole put on her boots again and stood up, a little wobbly, but for a different reason.
“I feel so short,” she said.
Sam seemed to have returned to his normal height as well. “You look the same to me.” He chucked her under the chin. “Beautiful, that is. I mean that in a friendly way.”
“Right.” They went up the dark granite exterior stairs to street level, squeezing past a lot more people this time. Sam looked up. The sky was now a velvet black without a single star—at least not one that he could see. But the stars had to be up there somewhere.
“Want to go look at the Saks Fifth Avenue windows?” She pointed toward them. Through a double row of airy, sculpted angels blowing trumpets, Sam saw what she was talking about.
“Sure.”
They made their way there and joined a slow-moving line to enjoy the windows in proper order. A story unfolded in each one, presented by fairy tale characters. Each window was lavishly draped at the sides, like a small theater, with a deep perspective that drew the viewer in. Kids and adults alike marveled in silence at the wonderful scenes and the artistry that had gone into creating them.
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