Page 107 of Offside for Christmas
"That's probably Cole," Caroline said, nudging her toward the door. "Go. I've got this."
"I've got it, mom!"
Ellie wiped her hands on a towel and went to answer it, her heart doing that stupid flutter thing it always did when she was about to see him.
Cole stood on the porch in dark jeans and a burgundy sweater that made his eyes look impossibly blue. His hair was slightly damp from a shower, and he was holding a bouquet of winter flowers—white roses and evergreen branches—and a bottle of what looked like expensive whiskey.
He looked terrified.
"Hi," Ellie said, unable to stop smiling.
"Hi." His eyes found the necklace at her throat, and some of the tension left his shoulders. "Is this too much?" He gestured to the flowers and whiskey.
"It's perfect. You're perfect."
"I'm terrified."
"Of my family?"
"Of screwing this up." His free hand reached for hers. "Of saying the wrong thing or making the wrong impression or—"
Ellie squeezed his hand. “You’ve already met the core—now it’s just the extended family, cousins and all the harmless fluff.”
"You sure about that?"
"I love you. That's a pretty good endorsement."
Cole took a breath, visibly relaxing. "Okay. Let's do this."
Caroline Winters hugged Cole before he'd even made it fully through the door.
"Cole! Welcome!" She took the flowers, her eyes shining. "Oh, these are beautiful! You didn't have to—"
"I wanted to," Cole said, and Ellie could hear the sincerity in his voice.
"Come in, come in! Thomas! Cole’s here!"
Ellie’s father appeared from the study, the smell of wood polish and old books trailing with him. He gave Cole a look—not the wary sizing-up of a first meeting, but the measured appraisal of a man still deciding what he thought.
"Back again already," Thomas said, a hint of dry amusement in his voice. "Didn’t scare you off last night, then?"
Cole smiled, a little stiffly. "Not yet, sir."
Thomas extended his hand, this time from his armchair, not bothering to stand—a power move that still landed. "Good to see you properly, in daylight."
"You too, sir." Cole’s handshake was steady, respectful, though Ellie caught the faint tension in his shoulders.
"I brought this for you." Cole held out the whiskey—a bottle of Macallan 18 that had cost him more than he wanted to admit. "A thank-you for having me."
Thomas’s eyebrows rose. "Macallan 18? That’s a $300 bottle of scotch."
"Yes, sir."
"You trying to bribe me, son?"
Cole’s face went carefully neutral. "No, sir. Just showing respect."
"Dad," Ellie warned, but she was smiling.
