The Irishman's Christmas Gamble
Page 10

“Let’s get you into the heat of the limo.” As they walked up the hill, he called the driver, so the car was waiting when they arrived at the crest.
Liam wrestled the sled back into the car, making Frankie chuckle as she bent to get in too. “I can’t get used to a sled in a limo,” she said.
“Wait until you see it with your Christmas tree tied on the top.” He took one of her hands and peeled the glove off. “Yup, your fingers are red with cold. Give me your other hand too.” He sandwiched her hands between his big palms, sharing the warmth of his skin with her. It felt strangely safe to have her hands trapped in his.
“I don’t have any decorations for a tree.”
“That’s easy to fix.”
She pulled her hands out from his. “When I need Christmas cheer I just go downstairs.”
“Remember what happened to Scrooge.”
“I give everyone who works for me a Christmas turkey.”
He laughed, his cold-reddened cheeks creasing. “What’s the ceiling height on your elevator? About seven feet?”
“I don’t need a tree that big.”
“You could put a twenty-foot tree in that apartment of yours.”
“And it would take a small army with ladders to hang ornaments on it.”
He slung his arm around her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “Did you have fun sledding?”
“You’re now going to use specious logic on me. Since I enjoyed the sledding, I will enjoy the Christmas tree.”
“And there you have it.” He pulled her against his side. “Give it up, Frankie. You know I’m as fiercely stubborn as you are.”
She laughed because she couldn’t deny it. Of course, their biggest arguments had always been about her walking home late after work at the chocolatier. Liam had insisted that she needed an escort, and she’d told him she was a grown woman and could take care of herself.
And she could, until the night her boss had agreed to let her develop her own line of chocolates. She’d floated through the gray, dimly lit streets, her mind on flavors and shapes and textures. Pure joy had flowed through her, the kind that made you forget everything but the moment. The kind that made anything seem possible. The kind she was feeling right now, with Liam’s strong arm around her.
But that was the night she’d nearly been raped. If Liam hadn’t come to her rescue, God knows if she’d even still be alive.
In the years since, she’d allowed herself to feel triumph or satisfaction or gratification, but never again that kind of blind happiness. It made you stupid and vulnerable, and she couldn’t afford either.
 
 
Chapter Five

The snow-dusted Christmas trees leaned against temporary fencing set up on a parking lot. Couples in bright hats and puffy jackets, some with children in tow, strolled through the fragrant outdoor aisles in search of the perfect pine. A ho-ho-ho-ing Santa Claus greeted Frankie and Liam on the sidewalk in front of the cashier’s shed. “And what do you want for Christmas, little lady?” he asked.
That stymied Frankie. She could buy whatever she wanted, so there wasn’t anything left to put on her list. “World peace,” she said.
“That’s a tall order,” Santa said. “But I’ll do my best.”
As Santa went on to the next customer, Liam said, “Such an altruist you are.”
“It’s better for the chocolate business if people aren’t shooting at each other.”
“Is there nothing you want?”
She waved her hand in dismissal. “I’ve got all the jets and diamonds I can use.”
“I keep forgetting that you could buy a small country, if you chose. For now, we’ll settle for a tree.”
She noticed that he had stiffened and the teasing light had vanished from his face. He had a problem with her money? That seemed ironic, since their youthful dreams had always been about being rich.
But Liam was already walking down the rows of trees propped against the wooden fence. Frankie watched as he occasionally grabbed a fir and stood it upright for inspection before letting it drop back again.
“What’s wrong with that one?” she asked after the seventh tree had been rejected.
“Not fat enough. Maybe they have one that hasn’t been opened up yet.” He waved at one of the men working at the lot. “Hey, do you have a seven-footer that’s got some girth?”
The fellow strolled up. “I might have one still netted…hey, aren’t you Liam Keller? Man, you are the best!” He raised his voice. “Yo, Pete, it’s Liam Keller.”
“What? You’re puttin’ me—” A short, chubby man in an orange ski jacket came to a halt in front of them with his mouth hanging open. “Liam effing Keller.”
“Nice to meet you, Pete,” Liam said with a half-smile. “I take it you’re a soccer fan.”
“I’m a big fan of yours,” Pete said, finding his voice and shaking Liam’s hand. “When you scored that goal in the final against Germany….” He shook his head in wonder. “Okay, Rich, get this man the best tree on the lot. You want seven feet? You got eight.”
Frankie trailed the trio to a pile of newly delivered trees behind the cashier’s shed, listening to them relive various moments of glory in Liam’s career. She was surprised at his celebrity here in New York. If he’d been a baseball player, she would have expected the recognition, but soccer wasn’t so popular in the States.
Rich, Pete, and Liam cut open several trees before they agreed that this was what they were looking for. “What do you think, Frankie?” Liam asked, walking around the tree as Pete held it.
“I’ve never seen a better one.”
“I like you,” Rich said, giving her a thumbs-up. “Let’s get it on your car.” When he saw the limo, he whistled. “Mr. Keller knows how to do things in style.”
Once the tree was secured, Frankie was pressed into service to take pictures with Rich’s and Pete’s phones of the two of them with Liam and the limo. Then Liam asked Pete to take a picture of him and Frankie together with Liam’s phone. Frankie caught herself smoothing her hair like a teenager and stopped as Liam put his arm around her shoulders. “Smile, my pretty bird,” he said.