Christmas Wishes: Christmas Letters / Rainy Day Kisses

He nodded. “My parents were hippies.” He grinned. “True, bona fide, unreconstructed hippies.”

“As in the Age of Aquarius, free love and that sort of thing?” This explained quite a bit, now that she thought about it. Wynn had apparently been raised without boundaries himself and had turned out to be a successful and even responsible adult. Maybe he figured that would be true of any child raised according to his methods.

Wynn nodded again. “Dad made it rich when he was awarded a patent for his surfboard wax. Ever heard of Max’s Waxes?” He sipped his wine, a lovely mellow pinot gris. K.O. did, too, savoring every swallow.

“I chose my own name when I was ten,” he murmured.

It was hardly necessary to say he’d lived an unconventional life. “Why did you decide on Wynn?” she asked, since it seemed an unusual first name.

“It was my mother’s maiden name.”

“I like it.”

“Katherine is a beautiful name,” he commented. “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

If he didn’t stop looking at her like that, K.O. was convinced she’d melt. This romantic rush was more intense than anything she’d ever experienced. She wasn’t even prepared to like Wynn, and already she could feel herself falling for this son of a hippie. In an effort to break his spell, she forced herself to look away.

“Where did you grow up?” she asked as their entrées were ceremoniously presented. Grilled scallops with wild rice and tiny Brussels sprouts with even tinier onions.

“California,” he replied. “I attended Berkeley.”

“I lived a rather conventional life,” she said after swooning over her first bite. “Regular family, one sister, two parents. I studied to become a medical transcriptionist, worked for a while and returned to college. I have a degree in public relations, but I’m currently working from home as a transcriptionist while looking for full-time employment. I’d really like to work as a publicist, but those jobs are rare and the pay isn’t all that great.” She closed her eyes. “Mmm. I think this is the best meal I’ve ever had.” And she wasn’t referring just to the food.

He smiled. “Me, too.”

A few minutes later, he asked, “Your sister is married with children?”

“Identical twin girls. Zoe and Zara. I’m their godmother.” When she discussed the twins, she became animated, telling him story after story. “They’re delightful,” she finally said. Dessert and coffee arrived then. An unusual cranberry crème brûlée, in honor of the season, and cups of exquisite coffee.

“So you like children?” Wynn asked when they’d made serious progress with their desserts.

“Oh, yes,” she said, then added a qualifier, “especially well-behaved children.”

His eyebrows arched.

Seeing how easy it was to get sidetracked, she said, “I think children are a subject we should avoid.”

“I agree.” But Wynn’s expression was good-natured, and she could tell he hadn’t taken offense.

Even after a two-and-a-half-hour dinner, K.O. was reluctant to leave. She found Wynn truly fascinating. His stories about living in a commune, his surfing adventures—including an encounter with a shark off the coast of Australia—and his travels kept her enthralled. “This has been the most wonderful evening,” she told him. Beneath the polished exterior was a remarkable human being. She found him engaging and unassuming and, shock of shocks, likeable.

After being assured by Jerome that their meal had already been taken care of, Wynn left a generous tip. After fervent thanks and a protracted farewell, they collected their coats. Wynn helped K.O. on with hers, then she wrapped her scarf around her neck.

When they ventured into the night, they saw that snow had begun to fall. The Seattle streets were decorated for the season with sparkling white lights on the bare trees. The scene was as festive as one could imagine. A horse-drawn carriage passed them, the horse’s hooves clopping on the pavement, its harness jingling.

“Shall we?” Wynn asked.

K.O. noticed that the carriage was traveling in the opposite direction from theirs, but she couldn’t have cared less. For as long as she could remember, she’d wanted a carriage ride. “That would be lovely.” Not only was Wynn a gentleman, but a romantic, as well, which seemed quite incongruous with his free-and-easy upbringing.

Wynn hailed the driver. Then he handed K.O. into the carriage before joining her. He took the lap robe, spread it across her legs, and slipped his arm around her shoulders. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to be in his embrace.

“I love Christmas,” K.O. confessed.

Wynn didn’t respond, which was probably for the best, since he’d actually put in writing that he wanted to bury Santa Claus.

The driver flicked the reins and the carriage moved forward.

“It might surprise you to know that I happen to feel the same way you do about the holidays.”

“But you said—”

He brought a finger to her lips. “We agreed not to discuss my book.”

“Yes, but I have to know....”

“Then I suggest you read The Free Child. You’ll understand my philosophies better once you do. Simply put, I feel it’s wrong to mislead children. That’s all I really said. Can you honestly object to that?”

“If it involves Santa, I can.”

“Then we’ll have to agree to disagree.”

She was happy to leave that subject behind. The evening was perfect, absolutely perfect, and she didn’t want anything to ruin it. With large flakes of snow drifting down and the horse clopping steadily along, the carriage swaying, it couldn’t have been more romantic.

Wynn tightened his arm around her and K.O. pressed her head against his shoulder.

“I’m beginning to think LaVonne knows her Raisin Bran,” Wynn whispered.

She heard the smile in his voice. “And her cat litter,” she whispered back.

“I like her cats,” he said. “Tom, Phillip and...”

“Martin,” she supplied. The men in her neighbor’s life all happened to be badly spoiled and much-loved cats.

The carriage dropped them off near West Lake Center. Wynn got down first and then helped K.O. “Are you cold?” he asked. “I can try to find a cab if you’d prefer not to walk.”

“Stop,” she said suddenly. All this perfection was confusing, too shocking a contrast with her previous impressions of Dr. Wynn Jeffries.

He frowned.

“I don’t know if I can deal with this.” She started walking at a fast pace, her mind spinning. It was difficult to reconcile this thoughtful, interesting man with the hardhearted destroyer of Christmas Zelda had told her about.

“Deal with what?” he asked, catching up with her.

“You—you’re wonderful.”

He laughed. “That’s bad?”

“It’s not what I expected from you.”