Home for the Holidays (5 page)

Iris caught Tracy's gaze, surreptitiously tapping her forefinger against her lips, indicating she would handle the situation. “I'm going to call my brother to find out if he's made plans for Allie to hang out with her grandparents. If not, then you girls can have a sleepover.”

Layla slid off her chair, looping her arms around Iris's waist. “Thank you, Miss Iris.”

Iris rubbed the girl's back in a soothing, circular motion. “You're welcome, baby.” Rounding the table, Iris hugged Tracy. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

Tracy pulled Iris away from the table. “You know my brother likes you,” she whispered in her ear.

“What are you talking about?” Iris said through clenched teeth, praying Collier hadn't overheard. Other than exchanging an occasional glance, there was nothing in their body language to indicate they'd known each other before today.

“I can just tell,” Tracy whispered. “Are you certain you don't want me to come over tomorrow and help you?” she asked in an audible voice.

“I'm very certain,” Iris reassured her. She planned to get up early, do a little light housekeeping, prepare side dishes, and set the table. Extending her hand, she smiled at Collier, her eyes photographing his lean, dark-skinned, incredibly handsome face. “It's been a pleasure.” He took her hand in a gentle grip, thumb caressing her knuckles as he'd done when they shared the table at Happy Hour.

“The pleasure has been all mine.” Releasing her hand, Collier splayed his fingers at the small of her back. “I'll walk you out.”

Iris went still, her spine ramrod straight. “It's okay. I'm just parked out front.”

Reluctantly Collier dropped his hand. Having her freeze under his touch made him wish he could turn back the clock where they could've met under a different set of circumstances. He knew without a shadow of a doubt they had a physical connection, and the more he saw her the more he wanted to see her. Collier knew if he'd been seated next to Iris during dinner he would've been tempted to concoct any excuse to touch her.

“I have to go out anyway to bring my car around.”

Collier waited for Iris to gather her tote before walking her out of the house, watching until her truck disappeared from view. A near full moon silvered the landscape as he strolled along the dead-end street to retrieve the rental; minutes later he maneuvered into the driveway, parking under the carport behind Tracy's Chevy hybrid.

He went back inside, closing and locking the doors. The sound of rattling pots and plates greeted him when he entered the kitchen. Tracy had changed out of her pantsuit and into a pair of pajama pants and an oversize tee. She'd also taken out her contact lenses and put on a pair of glasses, which reminded him of their mother. “Sit down, sis, and I'll finish cleaning the kitchen.”

Tracy dried her hands on a towel, then sat on a stool at the cooking island. “Thanks. You just have to put the pots in the dishwasher.”

Collier stood at the sink rinsing pots and serving pieces. “I like what you've done with the house.” Tracy had added the half bath off the kitchen, modernized the kitchen with state-of-the-art appliances, updated the plumbing and electricity, installed ceiling fans in all of the rooms, and removed the worn carpeting and replaced it with gleaming oak floors. Even the exterior hadn't escaped the makeover with new siding and shutters, and she'd replaced the sagging porch floor.

“Once I made the decision to move back home after leaving Larry, I didn't want to be reminded of what Mom went through when Daddy got real sick.” Tracy slipped off the stool. “I'm going to make coffee. Do you want some?”

“Sure,” Collier said, plunging his hands into the sink filled with warm, soapy water.

He knew Tracy didn't like talking about their parents. Their deaths had impacted her much more than it did him because he hadn't been there to see the gradual changes in his father's physical appearance before he was finally admitted to the VA hospital. However, he did remember coming home on leave to find the kitchen sink filled with dirty dishes, unmade beds, and trash cans overflowing with garbage. When he broached the subject with his fastidious mother, she admitted cleaning her house was secondary to caring for her husband.

Garrett had become a mere shadow of himself before succumbing to the disease he'd contracted when exposed to Agent Orange in Vietnam. Grief stricken because she'd lost the man who'd been responsible for saving her life after the fall of Saigon, Nicole Ward refused to eat, and within three months had lost half her body weight. Collier, approved for a second emergency personal leave, returned to Sanctuary Cove to bury his mother alongside her husband.

Tragedy had struck his family not once or twice, but three times when Tracy found herself in a legal entanglement with her estranged husband, who'd wanted full custody of Layla. Collier found a barracuda of a divorce attorney who exposed Layla's father's past arrest record and drug history, resulting in the judge denying him custody. Larry waived his right for visitation and moved out of the state, but he continued to pay child support. Tracy sold her Charleston condo, moved back to Sanctuary Cove, and contacted a contractor to renovate the house where she'd grown up.

The distinctive aroma of brewing coffee wafted through the kitchen when Tracy asked, “What do you think of Iris?”

Collier's mouth curved into a smile. He didn't think his sister would want to hear what he actually thought of her sexy friend. “I think she's delightful.”

Tracy gave him a sidelong glance. “Delightful? That's a word I've never heard you use before when describing a woman.”

“That's because she's the only woman I've met who is as delightful as she is refreshingly beautiful.”

“She's single.”

Bending slightly, Collier rearranged several plates on the lower rack of the dishwasher to accommodate the pots. “What are you trying to say, sis?”

“I'm saying maybe you should ask her out while you're here.”

He stood straight, his gaze boring into Tracy's. “Why are you matchmaking?” There was a thread of hardness in his voice. He'd never had a problem meeting women and certainly didn't need his sister acting as a go-between.

Tracy pulled herself up to her full five-three height. “Don't get your nose out of joint, Collier. I'm only suggesting you ask her out because she's had a rough time with men.”

“Rough how?”

“Her ex-husband was abusive. It started with emotional abuse, then progressed to physical. Iris said she tried to make a go of her marriage, but once he hit her she knew she had to get out before things got worse. And because she's not looking for anything long term or a commitment, I thought you taking her out would help restore her trust in men. Come on, Collier,” Tracy pleaded softly. “You're not going to be here long enough for the two of you to get
that
involved, and I know you'd never hurt her.”

Collier didn't mind dating Iris if she was willing to go out with him, but the revelation that she'd been in an abusive relationship made him uneasy. Her glib response that she and her husband didn't see eye to eye on a lot of things so they ended it hadn't been an indicator that she'd been abused. However, seeing him in the throes of one of his nightmares could elicit a flashback of what she'd experienced with her ex.

“I'll have to give it some thought,” he said. He wanted to date Iris for the duration of his leave, yet his repeated violent flashbacks were certain to make even a short-term relationship problematic. And hurting her was not an option.

C
ollier detected movement at the top of the staircase and saw Iris standing in the doorway leading into her apartment. He moved off the top stair, angled his head and brushed a light kiss over her lips. The kiss ended as quickly as it'd begun, her moist breath whispering over his jaw.

“Happy Thanksgiving, beautiful.”

Collier hadn't lied when he called her beautiful. Her light makeup, short hair brushed back off her face, and the orange-and-black color-block dress hugging every curve of her slim, toned body threatened to send his libido into overdrive. His gaze shifted lower to her bare legs and feet in a pair of snakeskin leather wedges in variegated colors of black, red, and orange.

“Happy Thanksgiving to you, too,” she said softly. “Please come in and I'll show you where to set up the table.”

Collier bit down on his lower lip as he followed Iris across the living room to the dining area.
Damn
, he thought,
even her walk is sexy
. Iris's experience as a chef was on full display. Along one wall were three serving tables, which held a variety of warming trays. The delicious aromas coming from them made his mouth water. Plates were stacked at the end of one table, while the dining room table, covered with a lacy tablecloth, was set with crystal water goblets, wineglasses, silver place settings, and place cards bearing the names of her guests in a flowery calligraphy.

A vase of bright autumn flowers and leaves in shades of red, orange, and yellow in keeping with the holiday theme doubled as the table's centerpiece.

“How early did you have to get up to do all of this?” he asked, pulling out the legs to the card table.

“Five. I get up at that time every morning because I start work at six. You can put it right over here.” Iris pointed to a spot several feet from the dining area table.

He positioned the table in front of the window looking out onto Main Street. Collier and Iris looked at each other, then out the window when they heard a tapping sound against the glass. It was raining. Whereas most people complained about rain, Collier welcomed it because he'd spent too many years living and fighting in arid countries where daytime temperatures exceeded triple digits.

He reached for Iris's wrist, pulling her close. “I know we didn't meet the conventional way, but I'd like to start over.”

She blinked. “How?”

His gaze lingered on her soft parted lips. “I'd like to ask you whether you'd consider going out with me.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “You mean dating?”

He smiled and nodded. “Yes. Dating.”

It'd been much too long since she'd dated, and she needed to recapture the normalcy that should've been so much a part of a single, thirty-one-year-old woman's social life.

“Okay,” she said after a pause. “But let's do this right. Tell me a bit about Scrappy. I want to know you better.”

Collier's arms went around her waist and his eyes darkened with desire, gold flecks sparking. “Scrappy wasn't very nice. Collier is a much more interesting character.”

Anchoring her arms under his shoulders, Iris leaned into his hard body, enjoying his warmth through the crisp pale blue cotton shirt. “I'll let you know which one I like best.”

Collier chuckled. “Please don't tell me you're into bad boys.”

“Good guys are boring.” She patted his back. “We can talk more about that after dinner.”

Collier pressed his mouth along the column of her silken neck. “I've been called a lot of things, but never boring.”

The sound of someone clearing their voice reached Iris and Collier at the same time, and they sprang apart like teenagers caught doing something wrong. Her mother and father stood in the doorway, their expressions speaking volumes. It was obvious they hadn't expected to see her in the arms of a man when she'd told her parents that she'd sworn off men for the rest of her life.

She approached her parents, kissing her mother and then her father. “Welcome.” She didn't see her father glaring at Collier. “Mom, Dad, I want you to meet my friend.” It was when she made the introductions she noticed the twitching muscle in her father's jaw. She groaned inwardly. He'd become somewhat overprotective since her divorce.

Collier was the first to offer his hand. “It's nice meeting you, sir.”

James, tall and still slender at the age of sixty-five, eyed the younger man with a narrow squint. He still wore a military cut for his salt-and-pepper hair. James grasped the proffered hand, holding it longer than necessary. “What is it you do, son?”

“Daddy!” Iris gasped.

James smiled at her. “It's all right, baby girl. The man doesn't have to answer if he doesn't want to.”

Collier returned Iris's father's direct stare. “Right now I'm in the U.S. Army.”

James shook Collier's hand vigorously and then dropped an arm over his shoulder. “We need to talk, son. Baby girl, do have anything stronger than beer and wine in the house?”

Iris shared a knowing glance with her mother. Iris was a younger version of Esther Nelson. Her parents complimented each other when they claimed their son was a clone of his father and their daughter her mother.

“Dad, the liquor is in the cabinet under the buffet server.”

Esther took off the jacket to her pantsuit and hung it on the coatrack on the wall near the door. “You know he's going to talk your young man's ear off.”

Iris looped her arm through Esther's, ignoring the reference to Collier being her man. “Better Collier's ear than yours, Mom.”

Esther smiled. “You're right about that. Where did you meet him?”

“He's my friend Tracy's brother.”

“He's exotically gorgeous,” the older woman whispered. Iris nodded in agreement. She'd discovered that the moment she turned to look at him at the Happy Hour. “You left the door open,” her mother reminded her when Iris steered her in the direction of the kitchen.

“I'm still expecting Tracy and her daughter. By the way, where are Evan and Allie?”

“They were getting dressed as we were leaving.” Esther shook her lightly graying hair. “I still can't get used to folks around here leaving their doors open or unlocked.”

Iris gave her mother a reassuring smile. “I'm the only one who lives up here, so there's no reason for anyone to come unless they're invited. Don't forget we left our doors unlocked when living on the base,” she reminded Esther.

“That's different because the base is secure. I know you love living here, but I still worry about you, darling.”

“Stop worrying, Mom. There's virtually no crime on Cavanaugh Island.” Esther's expression indicated she didn't believe Iris.

“Iris is right, Mrs. Nelson. I grew up here, and there's never been a problem with feeling safe. Everyone looks out for one another.”

Iris turned to find Collier standing only a few feet away. She had a brief moment of longing for him to be the one looking out for her before she chased the thought away. “See, I told you, Mom.”

Esther smiled at Collier. “Well, that does make me feel better.”

He returned her smile. “I'm glad.”

Iris pressed her palms together. “We'll sit down to eat as soon as the others get here.”

Iris felt as if Collier had become a part of a blended family when he joined her at the table. Dinner conversation was lively at the adult table, while Allie and Layla sat together, giggling nonstop. Evan kept everyone entertained with his wicked sense of humor and some of the more outlandish cases he saw at his veterinary practice. Layla, who'd changed her mind about sleeping over at Iris's house, begged Tracy to let Allie stay with them. Tracy, whom Iris suspected had taken a marked interest in Evan, said she didn't mind watching the two girls.

Everyone went back for more than one helping of her turkey and all the side dishes. They ate so much they'd decided to wait before eating dessert: sweet potato pie and a towering coconut layer cake.

It was after eight when Iris closed and locked the door behind her dinner guests, all except Collier, who'd offered to stay to bring back the card table. Tracy and Esther had helped with the cleanup before she'd shooed them out of the kitchen to the spare bedroom that doubled as her family room. Collier lingered in the living room with James and Evan watching football games on the wall-mounted flat screen, while she joined the women in the family room where they'd watched
Frozen
and
Tangled
with Allie and Layla.

Collier dropped a kiss on her hair and undid the ties to her bibbed apron. “Go and get off your feet. I'll finish up here.”

Tilting her head, Iris smiled up at him. “There's not much left to do.”

Lowering his face to hers, he brushed a kiss over her mouth. “Whatever is left I can do it.”

She affected a sexy moue. “You must like KP.”

“I'm used to picking up after myself. But it seems as if we have something in common.”

“What's that?”

“We're both a tad bit compulsive when it comes to everything being in its rightful place.”

Supporting her hip against the countertop, Iris reached down and slipped out of her shoes. “I can't function or think when things are out of place. It's a habit I picked up while in college.”

Rolling back the cuffs to his shirt, Collier ladled stuffing into a glass container, snapping the cover with a loud click. “I suppose old habits die hard.”

Standing behind him, she wrapped her arms around his waist. “I can think of a lot worse habits. Speaking of clothes, I'm going take a shower and change into something more comfortable.”

He went still in her embrace, then relaxed. “Okay.”

“Don't run away,” she whispered.

Collier smiled at her over his shoulder. “I won't.”

Iris lay beside Collier on the living room rug in front of the fireplace, holding hands and listening to slow jams while a driving rain slashed the windows. She felt more comfortable with him than she ever had with her ex-husband.

The buffet dinner was a rousing success, the Wards and Nelsons interacting as if they'd known one another for years. Iris had given the seating arrangement careful consideration when she put Tracy next to Evan, her mother and father at opposite ends of the table, and Collier on her left and her father's right.

“You and my father looked rather intense over predinner drinks,” Iris said after a long, comfortable silence.

“We had a lot to talk about,” Collier admitted.

“Really? Like what?”

“It's classified.”

Iris lifted her head, looking down at him as he stared up at her. “You're kidding?”

Collier's impassive expression didn't change. “No, I'm not.”

“It can't be classified if you discussed it with my father because he no longer has military security clearance.”

“It doesn't matter, beautiful. It's still classified.”

She gave him her best stink eye before sinking back to the rug. “Are you ready for coffee and more dessert?”

Collier snorted under his breath. “You must be mad, woman. How can you talk about food after all we ate for dinner?”

Iris stared up at the flickering shadows on the ceiling. “I guess you can say I am a little crazy to have picked up a stranger.”

Turning to face Iris, Collier asked, “Do you regret it?”

“No! Never,” Iris countered quickly. “It's just that I ask myself why now when I'd never done anything like that before.”

“Sometimes we need to exorcise our demons, and the only way we can accomplish that is to do something that's totally out of character.”

Collier was spot-on when he mentioned demons because her ex was an evil spirit masquerading as a moral, upright good guy. “Tracy was supposed to go to the club with me but had to bow out.”

“I can't explain it, but I feel we were destined to meet.”

“Are you saying we have a psychic connection?” Iris teased.

“I don't know about psychic. What are the odds I would walk in a club and pick up a woman who just happens to be my sister's best friend?”

“I don't have an answer to that,” she admitted truthfully. Iris didn't question why certain people had come into her life when she needed them most and others she should've kept at a distance. When talking to her mother about this, Esther's comeback was for her to not be impulsive and to weigh her options before deciding whether someone or a situation would benefit her in the long run. She wished she'd listened to her mother before marrying a man so unworthy of her love and fidelity.

“What do you want, Iris?”

Letting go of his hand, she shifted to look directly at him. There was enough light coming from the hanging fixture in the dining area to make out his features. “Want for what?”

“Your future.”

Propping her elbow on the floor, she rested her cheek against her fist. She smiled. “That's easy. I want to buy a house and turn a portion of it into an industrial kitchen for a cake-decorating business.”

“You want to stay on Cavanaugh Island?” he asked.