There's Something About Christmas (10 page)

“I
have to move,” Emma moaned to Phoebe when she arrived at The Dungeon the next morning.

“What happened?” Good friend that she was, Phoebe immediately rolled her chair across the aisle.

“It’s a long story.” Emma didn’t want to explain just now; it would take half the morning and she had an article to write. What bothered her most wasn’t the problem of having to be out of her apartment in seven days. That was bad enough, but it wasn’t what had kept her up half the night. Instead, all she could think about was Oliver’s kiss. By morning, with her eyes burning from lack of sleep, she hoped she’d never see him again. It wasn’t true, though, Emma admitted reluctantly. She very much wanted to be with him, and that frightened her. Maybe she wasn’t so different from her mother, after all.

“I have news,” Phoebe whispered.

Emma glanced up expectantly.

“Walt and I are having some…serious conversations.”

“That’s great.” The look in Phoebe’s eyes was rapturous, suggesting that the couple was on the brink of announcing their engagement.

“Unfortunately Walt’s having a problem telling anyone at the office that we’re seeing each other.”

Even Emma hadn’t known until just recently. She was astonished that they’d managed to keep their romance such a well-guarded secret.

“He wants to wait awhile,” Phoebe said. She lowered her voice again as someone came down the stairs and passed their cubicles. “I don’t know why, but Walt seems to think we should wait until after the holidays.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“And you agreed?” Emma asked. Like Phoebe, she didn’t understand Walt’s hesitation. She doubted anyone at the office would object to his relationship with Phoebe. There might be a few raised eyebrows, but so what?

“I think Walt’s concerned about setting a good example. You know—doing things the way his father would. I mentioned that, but he denies it.”

“I guess this means I won’t be able to move in with you if I don’t have a new apartment by next week?” Emma muttered. “It would only be for a few days—until I can find a place.”

Phoebe frowned. “In case you’ve forgotten, I only have a one-bedroom apartment and my sofa’s pretty ratty. What’s going on, anyway? I was so absorbed in my own news that I’d completely ignored yours.”

“I have a dog now.”

“A dog?” Phoebe’s eyes rounded with surprise.

“Like I said, it’s a long story.”

“That no doubt involves Oliver Hamilton.”

“How’d you guess?” Emma sighed. “Although I’d like to blame Oliver, the dog sort of chose me. Now I have to move because the landlord is dead set against animals.”

“In other words, you’re desperate?”

Emma sighed again; she still had six days. “Close, but not panicking yet.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t have a dog, either,” Phoebe said. “I’ll check and see if a visiting dog is allowed, okay?”

Emma was grateful; this was a lot to ask, but she might not have any other choice. She wouldn’t need to move in until next week—if at all. She’d certainly do her best to find something else before that.

“How did the interview go? The one in Colville?” Phoebe asked.

“Really well.” Emma glanced longingly toward her blank computer screen. “I have all my notes, but do me a favor, would you? Don’t let Walt know I’m here just yet. He’s going to want this article and I haven’t even started writing it. I intended to, but then…Well, it’s complicated.”

“Oliver Hamilton is somehow involved, right?” This was becoming a refrain.

“Isn’t he always involved?” Emma said, reaching in her briefcase for her notes on Sophie McKay.

As she’d told Phoebe, she wanted to blame Oliver for her current troubles, but that would be decidedly unfair. In bringing Boots home with her, Emma had taken a calculated risk. Now she had to write this article and quickly, because she needed to spend her lunch hour making phone calls. At least she had access to the very latest rental listings, she told herself. If only she could find a decent place that allowed pets and required a minimum cash outlay…

Without wasting another moment, she began drafting her article.

Hearing someone approach, Emma looked up to discover Oliver Hamilton leaning against the partition in the narrow aisle that separated her cubicle from Phoebe’s. At first, she was too shocked to respond.

“Hi,” she managed, before her throat went completely dry.

“Hi, yourself. I don’t suppose you’ve had a chance to check out new apartments yet?”

“Ah—no, not yet.” As it was, Emma had barely made it to work on time. After she’d dropped Boots off at a veterinarian Oliver had recommended, she’d been hard pressed to get to the office by nine.

“Well…” Oliver wore a cocky grin. “I have good news. There’s a vacant apartment on Cherry Street. The tenant got married and he’s already moved out. It’ll be available right away.”

This was a lovely area of Puyallup and within walking distance of the office. The cherry trees that lined the boulevard gave the street its name; they bloomed each spring in a profusion of pink blossoms. Apartments there were coveted and hard to come by. “Cherry Street?”

He nodded. “If you want, I can pick you up at lunchtime and you can take a look.”

“How much?” Not only were those apartments at a premium, but more than likely they’d be way out of her price range.

“Same as you’re paying now,” Oliver said, seeming pleased with himself.

This sounded too good to be true, and things that sounded too good to be true generally were. But just maybe…“What about the first and last month’s rent?”

Oliver shrugged as if this were a minor consideration.

“A friend of mine owns the complex, and he said if your credit rating’s okay, he’d be willing to waive that.”

“Wow.” This came from Phoebe.

“Boots won’t be a problem?”

“Not at all. But Jason will want a $150 deposit in case of damage.”

Only a hundred and fifty dollars—this was unbelievable. She’d expected it to be much more than that. She’d heard of apartments that asked for five-hundred-dollar deposits when the tenant owned a pet. Emma wondered for a moment whether Oliver had gotten his facts straight. No, wait. There had to be
something
he wasn’t telling her. “No strings attached?” she asked with a skeptical look.

Oliver raised both hands. “None.”

Emma felt as if she’d won the lottery. “How come?” She didn’t want to examine this gift too closely, but she was still terrified there might be a catch.

Oliver ignored her question.

“Oliver?” she persisted.

“Oh, all right. Jason owes me a favor. I flew him and his wife to San Francisco—and I promised I’d do it again.”

“Oh…”

“I put a hold on it for you, but Jason said he can’t keep the apartment off the market any longer than one o’clock this afternoon.”

“I’ll take it.” Emma didn’t want to risk losing this opportunity. She smiled at Oliver.

“Sight unseen?” he asked.

“Maybe you’d better go see the place,” Phoebe cautioned. “In fact, you should go now.”

Emma nodded; her friend was right. Still, she hesitated. Walt would be looking for that article and all she had was an unfinished rough draft. She was going to need several hours to work on it and to shape it into the piece she wanted it to be.

“We’ll take thirty, forty minutes, tops,” Oliver said. “We can run over, do a quick tour and you can make up your mind then.”

“I’ll cover for you,” Phoebe promised.

“But Walt—”

“Don’t worry. If Walt asks where you are, I’ll explain the situation to him. He’ll understand.”

“Won’t he be upset if he finds me skipping out in the middle of the morning?”

Phoebe’s eyes brightened and she shook her head. “Let me take care of that.”

“Okay, I will.” Emma reached for her coat and purse. Although she’d never admit it—at least not to Oliver—she was delighted to see him again. She wasn’t quite sure why he was being so helpful, but then she remembered his comments about ordinary men and real romance as opposed to romantic gestures. A real hero brought you and your dog a meal; he didn’t worry about providing the perfect setting. He made you laugh instead of presenting you with poetic words. He found you an apartment when you needed one….

When they approached his truck, he opened the passenger door for her. Oscar barked a welcome and seemed to be looking for Boots.

Emma raised her eyebrows. “You’re really taking this romantic-hero stuff to heart.”

“Absolutely,” he said, grinning. “If a pizza and a bag of dog food results in a kiss, I can only dream about what finding you an apartment will do.”

“Don’t get your hopes up.” It figured—he wanted something. What all men wanted, apparently. And after she’d had all these lovely thoughts about him, too.

He chuckled. “Want to go flying with me later?”

She stared at him. “No way!”

“You’re getting to be a pro at this. There was hardly a peep out of you the entire flight home.”

“I was busy praying.”

Oliver shook his head. “Come on. We’ll have a good time.”

Oliver Hamilton was
not
getting her back in the air, especially for the so-called fun of it. To her, flying simply wasn’t entertainment. “No. N-O,” she said, spelling it out.

“That’s a pity.”

Not to her. It was life preservation.

The apartment, a ground-level corner unit, was small but well-designed. The single-story complex was fairly new but beautifully maintained, and each unit had its own front door. The surrounding doors were all decorated with wreaths and pine swags and lights. Inside, Emma was thrilled to see brand-new appliances, including a dishwasher. Sliding glass doors off the kitchen led to a fenced area in the back that would be perfect for Boots. There was even space for a container garden, which pleased Emma. Her mother had always had a garden. Emma had hated weeding and watering it as a girl. She’d never believed she’d miss it, but she did.

Oscar walked around, cocking his head as if confused. He looked up at Oliver, who ignored his canine friend.

“Well, what do you think?” Oliver asked, leaning against the kitchen counter in a nonchalant pose.

“It’s wonderful!”

He grinned knowingly. “I thought you’d like it.”

“I do. Thank you, Oliver, thank you so much.” Impulsively she kissed his cheek.

Not one to let an opportunity slip away, Oliver grabbed her around the waist and brought her into his arms. “You can thank me properly, you know.”

She was tempted to do just that when there was a sudden knock at the open door and Oliver’s friend Jason let himself in. Emma had met Jason when Oliver took her to the owner’s unit to collect the key.

“Have you made a decision?” he asked.

Embarrassed, Emma quickly disentangled herself from Oliver’s embrace. “I’ll take it. Just show me where to sign.”

Jason had the paperwork with him, and after reading the lease agreement, she quickly signed her name at the bottom and wrote him a check.

Jason handed her the keys, assured her she could move in anytime, and left.

“You
are
my hero,” Emma said once the other man had gone.

“I know,” Oliver murmured in modest tones.

She was half-tempted to kiss him again, but changed her mind. “I suppose I should get back to the office,” Emma said reluctantly.

“Okay, but I need to stop at my place first.”

She couldn’t quibble, since he’d driven her here and, more, had arranged for her new home.

He walked out, turned right and went down two doors.

Emma followed. She didn’t understand, until he inserted the key into the lock, that this was his place—two doors down from hers.

“You live here?” she asked.
“Here?”

He nodded, opening the front door. It had the biggest Christmas wreath of all, and the front window sparkled with tiny white lights.

“It didn’t occur to you to maybe mention this before now?” She’d asked him earlier if there were any strings attached and he’d promised her there weren’t. She should’ve known.

Her tone must have conveyed the fact that she wasn’t happy with this unexpected turn of events. She remained standing in the doorway, resisting the impulse to look inside, although she did catch sight of a gaily decorated Christmas tree.

“What’s the matter? Don’t you want me for a neighbor?”

She found it hard enough to keep him out of her thoughts as it was. Living two doors down from him would make it impossible. “As a matter of fact, no. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn’t enter my mind. You should be grateful I found you an apartment.”

“Which I wouldn’t have needed if you hadn’t opened your big mouth,” she said, even though that was only partially true.