“Purebred Maine coon. They get pretty big.”
Gretchen tentatively reached her hand out to give Pickle a scratch behind the ears. She was rewarded with a warm purr.
“That’s my girl,” Colton crooned before setting Pickle back on the floor. The cat immediately meowed in protest and wound herself through Colton’s legs.
“I can take your coat,” he said, holding out his hand.
She slid it from her shoulders and waited as he hung it up in the entryway closet, taking the moment to cast her gaze around the place. For such a big house on the outside, it felt small on the inside.
No. Not small. Cozy.
Colton’s house was warm and welcoming. Everything her parents’ house was not and had never been.
“Something to drink?”
His voice yanked her out of her silent observation. He’d shoved his hands in his pockets, and his posture seemed insecure, just like in the car, as if he really was afraid of her censure.
“Sure. Thank you.”
“Kitchen’s this way. Follow me.”
Pickle trotted ahead of them both, her fluffy tail held high as if she knew something special awaited her. She wasn’t wrong. As soon as they entered the vast kitchen, Colton walked directly to a low cabinet and pulled out a box of treats. He gave it a shake, Pickle meowed, and then Colton poured a small handful onto the floor.
After returning the treats to the cabinet, he focused on Gretchen again. “Wine? Beer? CAW 1869?”
A smile coaxed itself past her defenses. “You know the answer to that.”
As Colton got their drinks, she studied the kitchen again. Though large and outfitted with the kind of high-end appliances that would put Wolfgang Puck to shame, it was also surprisingly intimate. A place where she could easily imagine a boisterous, loving family singing “Happy Birthday” around a cake.
The kitchen opened up to a sitting area with a fireplace, and a set of French doors led to a balcony overlooking the backyard. Without asking, she opened the door and walked out into the cool night. Below was a courtyard and a large pool. More trees lined the back of the property, a natural privacy shield for the house.
He returned with two glasses of whiskey. After handing one to her, he held up his glass. “To cheating and . . . what was the rest?”
“Stealing, fighting, and drinking.”
He clinked their glasses together, and she resumed her staring.
“I know, I know. Just say it.”
“Say what?”
“That it’s an obscene amount of money to spend on a house when so many people like your clients can barely afford to feed their kids—”
“I was not thinking that.”
“—but this isn’t just for me. I wanted a big space for my whole family to enjoy. Like they’re on vacation when they’re here. My parents come and stay several times a year, and it’s awesome at Christmas. The kids run around and—”
She set her hand on his arm. “Colton, you don’t have to explain anything to me. You’re a huge success. I’ve never said that people shouldn’t enjoy the rewards of their hard work.”
“But I can feel the judgment radiating off you.”
He said it in a teasing tone, but his words stung anyway. Is that truly what he thought of her? Is that what she projected to the world?
Good God. Was she really Ebenezer Scrooge?
Now it was her turn to be insecure. “We gonna decorate this tree or not?”
“Look at you,” he said, teasing once again. “Getting in the spirit.”
“More like getting it over with.”
He winked. “That’s my grumpy girl.”
When the tickle returned to her belly, she knew that maintaining her vow that tonight was not a date was hopeless.
CHAPTER TEN
“I’ve never actually done this before.”
“Never done what?” Colton looked up from the floor where he’d been opening boxes of new lights and plugging them together, end to end.
Gretchen was perched on the edge of the couch, fingers wrapped around her glass. “Decorated a Christmas tree.”
He glanced up again and huffed out a laugh. “Right.”
“I’m not kidding.”
His hands went still of their own accord, and he raised his gaze again, this time slowly. She didn’t look like she was messing with him. But this was even more absurd and unbelievable than the fact that she’d never been to Christmas on the Cumberland, and a helluva lot sadder. “Why?”
“I’ve never gotten a tree for myself, and our house growing up was part of the whiskey trail holiday tour, so my mother always hired professional Christmas decorators. We usually had more than ten trees in our house, and the decorators did it all.”