Unwrapped (19 page)

Barkley shook his head. “It's not as easy as you think finding someone to work on Christmas Eve.” He glanced down at the lists in Wheezie's hand. “What's that?”

Wheezie wadded up the paper and stuffed it in her coat pocket. “Just trash. Now let's get back to finding you someone to bring to the Christmas Eve party. What about the pest control guy? He looks nice and has a way with an insecticide wand.”

I
hate FaceTime,” Gerald said as he smoothed a hand down his neck. “I always end up looking at myself in the corner of the screen more than I look at the person I'm talking to. And electronic screens always make you look so old and haggard.”

“Do I look haggard?” Jac studied her tiny picture in the right corner of her phone.

“No. You look depressed. So I'm guessing that Thor didn't want to use his hammer on you.”

“He used his hammer all right. It was just so lightning-quick, I didn't get a jolt.” She leaned back in the chair, annoyed that Patrick had turned her table back into a desk. What kind of a man didn't have a table? Or more than one chair and a couple of stools? Obviously, the kind who didn't want company. One of the cats jumped up on the desk—at least not the human kind of company. As soon as the cat was settled in a ball of fur, Gomer came up and rested his head on Jac's leg. Ever since she'd given him the roast beef bone, the pit bull had become her best friend. Obviously all males caved at the sight of beef.

“So you got a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am?” Gerald examined the pimple on his chin.

“Followed by loud snores.”

Gerald laughed. “Maybe your sexual prowess sapped all his strength.”

“Doubtful.” Bored with watching Gerald's grooming, she opened a desk drawer and searched through it. “I think it was the pot roast and Granny Lou's pull-apart buns.”

“I would've loved to meet your grandmother. She sounds like she had a quirky sense of humor. What are you doing?” Gerald asked. “Are you snooping through Patrick's stuff?”

“Since we're married, it's not snooping. His stuff is my stuff.” She went through the stack of bills on the desk.

“Somehow I don't think Patrick would agree.”

She pulled out a credit card bill and looked at the list of charges. “This is pathetic. A hundred-thousand-dollar limit and all he charged last month was a couple hundred in takeout and Levi's. The man obviously needs someone to show him how to spend his money.” A thought struck her, and she lowered the statement and glanced around the apartment. “And how to decorate his home.”

“Ja-a-ac.” Gerald's voice held a warning and fear. “Please tell me that you're not thinking what I think you're thinking.” She set down the phone and turned on the computer. “Jac!” he yelled. “Look at me. Remember how quickly you can go through money. And Patrick looks like a saver, not a spender.”

“Which is exactly why he needs my help.” She typed “furniture” into the search engine. “And stop worrying. I'm only going to spend a little and only on things he needs. And once I get Aunt Frances's money, I'll pay every cent back. Turning his house into a livable space will be my parting gift to him.”

“Somehow I don't think he'll see it as a gift.”

“Maybe not at first. But after he enjoys eating at a dining room table and lounging on a comfortable couch, he'll change his mind. And I'm not letting my child live in a man cave—or come to visit it.” She glanced down at the phone to find Gerald looking frightened. Feeling guilty, she picked it up. “Stop worrying, Geri. All he can do is yell at me and make me return it, which is nothing that Bailey hasn't done when I overspend.”

“But Bailey loves you.”

Jac scowled. He did have a point. Unfortunately, an enormous pool table beat out logic. “All I can say is that if Patrick expects me to stay cooped up in his condo without a car, than I'm going to need something to sit on besides an uncomfortable desk chair. And since you're my friend and so good at decor, you're going to help me pick it out.”

Even on the small screen, it was easy to see the resigned look that came over Gerald's face. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

It only took a few hours to find furniture for the dining and living rooms. Gerald was reluctant at first, but once he turned on his computer and started shopping, his creative nature took over.

“No pinks or purples or flowery prints,” he said as he clicked through pictures online. “We need strong, manly colors if we want to win Patrick over. Roasted chestnut, forest greens, navy blues, perhaps a splash or two of burnt orange and rusty reds. Dark woods and no leather. Leather is cold and uninviting. We want soft material and deep cushions. And as much as it goes against every decorating gene in my body, we probably should get him a recliner.”

Jac didn't care if Patrick had a recliner as long as she got a dining table, a couch, and an extremely feminine vanity table with a cute little stool. The only hitch in their furniture shopping came when she tried to order and the purchasing form wanted the security code on the back of the credit card. Jac would've had to abandon her plan if she hadn't stumbled on a spare credit card in the desk drawer.

By lunchtime the furniture was ordered and delivery times confirmed. Exhausted and starving, Jacqueline finally ended the call with Gerald and heated up some of the leftover pot roast. While she sat at the counter eating, she glanced over at the pool table. It was the only thing left to deal with. The desk she could have moved into the spare bedroom with Patrick's treadmill until they needed to buy baby furniture. But that wouldn't work for the pool table. She thought about giving it away, but figured that was pushing it.

A whine had her looking down at the dogs. It was hard to ignore such pleading eyes, so she shared the rest of her roast beef with them before giving some to the cats. She didn't have a clue what the cats' names were or whether they were boys or girls so she called them Hairball One, Two, and Three. She had just finished feeding Hairball Three when she heard the rumbling of the garage door.

Patrick?

She smiled. Obviously he felt guilty and had come home for lunch to give her what he hadn't last night. Quickly she released her hair from the ponytail holder and shook it free. She wished that she had time to put on makeup and change into something a little sexier than leggings and a sweater, but the door opened before she had even slid off the barstool.

The dogs and cats brushed past her on their way to greet the person coming up the stairs. Unfortunately it wasn't Patrick. It was a beautiful skinny blond woman holding two leashes.

“Oh!” She looked as surprised as Jac. “I'm sorry. Patrick didn't mention that someone was staying with him.”

Nor had he mentioned that his dog walker looked like Heidi Klum. The blonde was even prettier than the petite brunette they'd run into downtown. Jac felt the same annoying ball of anger settle in her stomach that she'd felt before. But this time the ring on her finger gave her a little more leverage.

“You must be the dog walker. I'm Patrick's wife, Jacqueline.” She held out a hand, but the woman ignored it as her eyes widened.

“Wife?” Her gaze swept over Jac from head to toe before her shock melted into laughter. “That's a good one.” She pointed a finger at her. “You had me going there for a second. Are you the new maid? Patrick said he was going to get one, even though I told him that I'd be happy to clean for him.”

The way she said “clean” didn't sound clean at all to Jac. Jac held her temper in check and smiled. “No, I'm not the maid. Although if you don't mind cleaning, I'd love to hire you. Patrick doesn't like me lifting a finger.” She held the hand with the wedding band to her chest and giggled. “Silly, protective man.”

The woman's gaze narrowed in on the ring, and all humor faded. In fact she looked like she was about ready to explode. “Are you kidding me? I've been humping my ass to walk his dogs during my lunch breaks all for a chance to marry a hot millionaire, and he went and married some fat redhead.” She threw the leashes on the floor. “That's bullshit!” She was down the stairs and out the door before Jac and the animals could do more than blink. Which was probably a good thing. If she had remained, Jac might've shown her the knuckle side of a fat redhead's fist.

The dogs started to whine, leaving Jac no choice but to pick up the leashes. “Fine, but only this once. I don't like animals.”

Walking dogs wasn't as easy as it looked. Gilmore was a sniffer who refused to keep up, and Gomer was a puller who refused to slow down. Being tugged in two different directions made Jac feel like a tug-of-war rope. A walk around the block took more than an hour. And she was relieved when she neared the condos.

As she stopped to let Gomer lift his leg on a tree, she noticed the beat-up car across the street. The hood was up, and a man worked on the engine while his wife stood on the sidewalk, cradling a baby and keeping an eye on the two little kids who played a game of chase.

Jac didn't know why the family bothered her. Probably because she had been in a similar situation more times than she could count when her mother had been alive. Her mother had always been buying some piece-of-crap car that would break down. And she had always called some loser boyfriend to fix it.

“It looks like you've got your hands full.”

Jac pulled her attention away from the family and turned to find Santa sitting at the bus stop. After being cooped up in the condo with only grumpy Patrick as company, it was nice to see a friendly face.

“Hello,” she said as she tried to pull the dogs over to the bench. “We just keep running into each other.”

Santa smiled. “It's a small world. Which works out nicely for me.” He made a clicking sound and the dogs stopped their tug-of-war and trotted over to him. But instead of jumping and covering him in doggy slobbers, they calmly sat down and waited for him to scratch their heads.

Glad for a reprieve, Jac took a seat on the bench next to him. “So it looks like you're as good with dogs as you are with people.”

Santa's eyes crinkled at the corners. “Love is a language every animal seems to understand.”

The man's wisdom was truly amazing. Of course he couldn't be too wise if he was living on the streets. Since it appeared that they were destined to be friends, she couldn't help asking, “So what happened? Did you lose your home?”

“No. I have a home. I just decided to do a little traveling.”

It was obviously a lie. One his tattered clothes attested to. But Jac knew what it was like to lie in order to save face. She had spent her life pretending to be someone she wasn't so she would fit into her aunt's social group. It was exhausting—and she hadn't realized exactly how much until now.

The wind picked up, and snow flurries fell from the sky and landed on Santa's striped stocking cap. He didn't shiver or show any signs of being cold, and still Jac couldn't stand the thought of him being stuck out in the elements.

“Listen,” she said, “I realize that you probably have reservations at a hotel, but hotel rooms can be so cold and unfriendly—especially around the holidays. So why don't you stay with me? I don't have an extra bed now, but I'm sure I can get one delivered before the end of the day.”

He studied her for a moment with intense blue eyes before shaking his head. “Thank you, but I couldn't do that. Especially with newlyweds.”

Jac flashed him a surprised look. “How did you know?”

His gaze lowered to the wedding band. “You didn't have that on last time I saw you.” He smiled. “Holiday weddings are always nice.”

Nice
wasn't exactly the word.
Brief
and
disappointing
would have been better descriptors. Not only for her wedding, but for her sex life.

“Nice enough,” she said as she got to her feet. “Now come on.” She took his arm and helped him up. “I won't take no for an answer.”

“Well, that's awfully nice of you.” He patted her hand, which curled around his arm. For a little old man, he had a surprisingly big bicep. “But I really couldn't—so much to do and so little time before Christmas. Although there is something you could do for me.” He hesitated for only a moment before waving a hand at the family Jac had noticed earlier. Upon seeing Santa wave, the woman said something to the man fixing the car, and he stopped and wiped his hands on a rag before collecting the kids and ushering them over to the crosswalk. Within minutes they were standing in front of Jac.

“This is the Trujillo family.” Santa made the introductions. “Mr. and Mrs. Trujillo, this is Mrs. McPherson. She has a place for you to stay.”

Jac's eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

Santa's bushy eyebrows lifted. “You did offer.”

“Well, yes, but…” She looked at the Trujillos. “Umm, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that this man misunderstood. My condo is barely big enough for my husband, all our animals, and me. So I'm afraid that you'll have to find another place to—”

Suddenly, for no apparent reason at all, Gomer jumped to his feet and took off. He moved so quickly that he jerked the leash from Jac's hand. With no other choice, Jac raced after him. Tugging Gilmore behind her, she hurried down the sidewalk and around the corner of the building, using every command she could think of. “Stay! Sit! Halt!”

Gomer listened to none of them. Fortunately, he headed back to the condo. Or not to Patrick's condo as much as the one next door. The garage door was open, which seemed strange given that it hadn't been open when Jac left for the walk. Maybe someone had rented it. Although she didn't see any moving vans or vehicles parked in front. But that had to be the case because the door that led inside was cracked open, and Gomer had no problem nosing his way inside.

“Gomer!” she yelled just as Mr. Trujillo ran past her.

“Don't worry, miss,” he said. “I get the
perro
.”

The kids raced after their father, leaving Jac and the mother to bring up the rear.

Again Jac tried to explain. “I'm sorry I can't let you stay here.”

“No worries,” the woman said. “God will work things out. He always does.” She smiled shyly as she adjusted the baby on her shoulder and followed Jac up the stairs of the condo.