One Winter's Night: The Twelve Dates of Christmas / Frozen Heart, Melting Kiss / A Cadence Creek Christmas. SUSAN MEIERЧитать онлайн книгу.
want to know that she felt left out, rejected, because he wouldn’t confide in her. And she absolutely wouldn’t tell him that she was falling for him. That would be the ultimate humiliation.
Wiping her eyes, she stuck with the convenient. “It’s pretty bad to be the only woman in a gown at a dinner party. It would make me look stupid...clueless about social conventions.”
He winced. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine.”
Norman started the car and pulled out into the street.
Ricky settled back on the seat. “It feels weird to be going home.”
It didn’t to her. The sooner she got away from him, the sooner she could cry, call herself every kind of fool and splurge by drinking one of the precious cups of hot cocoa she’d squirreled away for nights like this.
“I mean, I’m dressed and you’re dressed.” He turned and caught her gaze. He smiled slightly. “Seems like a waste.”
“I can wear this dress tomorrow.” She glanced out the window, then faced him again. The crying might have been her fault. Might have been an overreaction. Might have made her look even more foolish than she already did to him. But forgetting to tell her how to dress? That was his fault. “Unless we’re going to a dinner party tomorrow.”
“I’ll check the invitation when I get home and call you.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
He cleared his throat. “I still don’t think we should just go home.”
“The deal was twelve parties.”
“I know. But missing one is sort of reneging on the deal.” He glanced at her. “If you enjoy them.”
She picked at her cape. “Sometimes I do.” When he was himself. A normal guy. Which, lately, wasn’t often.
“At least let me buy you dinner.”
“I’m not hungry.”
But even as she said the words her stomach growled.
“I think you are hungry.”
“Stop feeling sorry for me!” The shout was out before she could stop it. “For Pete’s sake! You hate people feeling sorry for you, so you should damn well understand I hate people feeling sorry for me!”
He grimaced. “Got it.”
Shame filled her again. She didn’t know why she was so emotional tonight, but she was. And she needed to get away from him.
She turned to the window and looked out at the city decorated for the holidays, the festive lights that seemed to be mocking her.
“So if you could go anywhere you wanted to tonight, where would it be?”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “You’re not going to drop this, are you?”
“I always try to make up for my mistakes.”
So now she was a mistake? “Terrific.”
“Where would you want to go...if you could go anywhere you wanted?”
She was halfway tempted to tell him Paris just to shut him up. But what if he actually took her there? She wasn’t risking that. Imagine how much she could embarrass herself across the pond? No, thanks. Enough New Yorkers thought she was a sad girl with puppy dog eyes. She didn’t need to add Europeans to the list.
She scoured her brain for somewhere reasonable to tell him but somewhere he’d nonetheless refuse.
When it came to her, she smiled.
“What I’d really like is a carriage ride in Central Park.”
He sniffed. “It’s raining.”
“I know. Drat. Stupid suggestion.” She sighed. “Might as well just go home.”
He pulled out his cell phone. “Now, hold on. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” He hit a button. “David? Can you do me a favor and arrange a carriage ride?” He paused, then laughed. “Right now, actually.” He paused again, waiting a minute or two before he said, “South entrance? Great. Thanks.”
“So it looks like we have a carriage.”
She gaped at him. “It’s raining!”
“It’s also what you want.”
She sighed. The one time she really and truly didn’t want him to be nice to her, when she wanted him to be his usual self-absorbed self so she could just go home and wallow in her own misery, he decided to be nice.
“I want the carriage ride on a sunny day or a warm night.” Now she sounded like a spoiled child. “Not a night when it’s raining.”
“We got a carriage with a roof. And they have blankets.”
He seemed so happily proud of himself that she had to fight not to roll her eyes. She wouldn’t talk him out of this, and she had always wanted to go for a carriage ride through Central Park. Might as well just enjoy it. She’d have plenty of time to wallow in misery on Christmas day.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He tapped the window to give Norman instructions. In ten minutes, the limo stopped.
The entire street sparkled with raindrops. Although there were no stars, the moon hung overhead, a bright round ball. White clouds rolled by, sometimes hiding it, but eventually it would appear again, as if smiling at her, telling her to relax, everything would be okay.
After a short chat with Norman, Ricky helped her onto the red seat of a white carriage, sat beside her and tucked the covers around her.
“You’re going to be cold in that cape.”
“I don’t care.” And suddenly she didn’t. She’d wanted one of these rides since she was a little girl. She would listen to the moon and not miss a minute of it.
As the horse-driven carriage clomped its way into Central Park, she huddled tightly under the blanket.
“So of all the places to go, things to do, why this?”
“Once when we drove past as kids, I almost had my dad talked into a ride. But my mother vetoed it at the last minute.”
“Oh. Sorry about that.”
“Not your fault.” She laughed. The brisk air filled her lungs. The shiny wet path sparkled like the road to a fairy-tale castle. “Besides, I’m here now.” She cuddled into the covers, leaned back and took a long drink of the fresh air again.
He pulled a bit of the blanket onto his lap. It wasn’t cold enough to snow, but it was wet, the kind of damp cold that seeped into bones. She didn’t blame him for wanting to cover up.
“I’ve never done this either.”
She peeked at him. The steady clip-clop of the horse’s hooves filled the dark, wet air. “Really?”
“Though I did bring my son here...to Central Park.”
Ricky’s tongue tripped over the awkward words. He shouldn’t have mentioned Blake. All that did was open floodgates for questions. But tonight’s mistake had been big enough that she’d cried. She’d tried to hide it or stop it, but she’d lost the battle and he’d lost all control. He’d have given her every cent of his fortune to get her to stop.
A carriage ride was a small price to pay.
Before she could ask questions that would lead to answers he wasn’t ready to give, he added, “Blake loved it. It was summer.” He huddled more deeply under the blanket, bringing them closer together as they passed bare trees, shiny with cold rain that might turn to ice. “I took him to the carousel, but there are a bunch of baseball fields near there, and he went nuts when he saw them.” He laughed