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His head popped up, the corners of his lips twitching. “I am sorry, Calista. I know it doesn’t make up for anything, but it’s the truth.”
Tristan’s sincerity rang true, scaring me. “I really have to go.” I turned and hustled off.
“I’ll pick you and Quinn up tomorrow morning,” he called out, thankfully not following me this time.
“Fine,” I yelled back, knowing Quinn wouldn’t let another day go by without getting a Christmas tree.
“Good night, Calista.”
“Good night, Tristan,” I said more to myself, a little ticked that part of me looked forward to seeing him the next day. And for that, I really hated him.
TRISTAN
TRISTAN PARKED HIS TRUCK IN front of Stella’s house and took a moment to stare at it, the last couple of days running through his mind. He banged his head on the steering wheel. “You’re a prick for telling her you left her for money and because she was too much,” he lamented out loud. “While I’m at it, you’re an idiot for telling her you still love her. You couldn’t have saved that?”
The woman did things to him that had his mouth and heart overriding his head. He’d planned on playing it cool and coming on subtly. Instead, he was behaving more like a sledgehammer in a glass shop. Every time he was around her, all he wanted to do was skip to the part where she forgave him and realized she still had feelings for him too. It was a pipe dream.
He had to hand it to Calista: she knew how to cut him to the core. Using that line from A Christmas Carol was wickedly good. It figuratively punched him in the chest, just as she intended. Tristan had to smile, though, remembering how many versions of the movie they had watched when they were together. The Muppet version had been her favorite. She had every song memorized and would belt them out while they watched the show. Gazing at her was more fun than paying attention to the movie.
The Christmases they had spent together were the best of his life. More than anything, he was hoping to make this Christmas just as good. Or better. Especially for Quinn. Calista had given him hope last night at the cemetery, the way she’d eventually snuggled right into him and sobbed into his chest. He was sorry she was hurting, but to hold her again was more than he could have asked for. The fact that she’d allowed it for so long confirmed she felt the rightness of it too. She wanted to deny it, but her actions proved otherwise. And she could keep telling him she hated him all day long; it was better than indifference. He could work with hate. Hate meant there were still deep feelings.
Today he planned to capitalize on last night’s events. Hopefully more subtly this time. His back was killing him, and there was no way he could swing an axe with stitches. If all went well, Calista would offer to do it, and he would be happy to teach her how to swing an axe. It would necessitate some close contact.
Tristan grinned over at the bench seat in his truck. He’d purposely bought this truck so Calista could sit next to him. He used to love nothing better than resting one hand on the wheel and the other on her bare thigh. Those short shorts she used to wear always did him in. He planned to let Quinn drive today so that he could sit next to her aunt. After all, she needed the practice now that she had her driver’s permit. And the girl took corners way too recklessly, which would force him to lean into Calista a few times on the drive over to his ranch. It was going to be a good day.
He climbed out of the truck slowly so as not to tug on the stitches in his back.
Quinn and Calista were already on their way down the back stairs.
Tristan couldn’t help but gape at Calista in her tight jeans that showed off her long, beautiful legs. A beanie topped her gorgeous dark mane, while the rest of her dark, silky hair fell softly below her shoulders. It made her look adorably sexy. He remembered how amazing it had felt to stroke her hair last night, and to breathe in her strawberry-vanilla scent.
Calista was doing her best not to look at him, but he saw the hint of a smile on her perfect face. She knew exactly how tempting she was.
“Good morning, ladies.” He hustled over the best he could to the passenger side of the truck to open the door.
Calista narrowed her eyes at him.
“What? I’m opening this for myself,” he feigned innocence. “I thought I would let Quinn drive.”
Quinn squealed and ran around to the driver’s side.
“I know what you’re doing,” Calista whispered. “And it won’t work.”
He shrugged. “You never know about these things. Do you want the middle? Or should I take it? You need to be ready to act quickly. Quinn can be a bit of a scary driver.”
“Hey!” Quinn shouted. “I heard that.”
“I’m only speaking the truth, kiddo.” Tristan laughed.
“Maybe she just needs a better teacher,” Calista quipped before climbing into the truck, clinging to her coat like a security blanket.
Tristan figured it wouldn’t be easy for her. Some of their best memories lived in this truck. It surprised him she’d agreed to let him pick them both up. But he knew her car wouldn’t do well getting up to his place this time of year. He probably should have brought his Land Rover, but he couldn’t resist seeing Calista in his truck again. Besides, he wasn’t letting Quinn drive his new car. He gave Calista’s hand a little squeeze to let her know he understood how hard this was for her.
She squeezed back before saying “Ugh” and shaking her hand like she had just touched something disease ridden.
Tristan kept his smile to himself. He liked the fighter in her.
With everyone settled and buckled in, Quinn fired up the truck, ready to take on the world.
