12 CHRISTMAS ROMANCES TO MELT YOUR HEART

CATHERINE GAYLE     JAMI DAVENPORT     RILEY J. FORD     EMMA ROMAN     ALLIE K. ADAMS     GERI FOSTER     TAMMY FALKNER     TAWDRA KANDLE     CHRIS KENISTON     KATY REGNERY     BECCA BOYD     JODI VAUGHN

Contents

Mistletoe Misconduct

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

About the Author

Hearts On Ice

Copyright

Foreword

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

About the Author

Romance. Avalanche. Love.

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

About the Author

The Runaway Sleigh

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

About the Author

Merry TREXmas

Copyright

Foreword

Preface

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

About the Author

Holiday Mischief

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

About the Author

Yes, You

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

About the Author

Underneath My Christmas Tree

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

About the Author

Love Walks In

Copyright

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

About the Author

Marrying Mr. English ~ Part 1

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Epilogue

About the Author

As We Dream By The Fire ~ Line Of Fire Series

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

About the Author

Christmas In Cloverton

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

About the Author

MISTLETOE MISCONDUCT

BY CATHERINE GAYLE

Copyright © 2015 by Catherine Gayle

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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CHAPTER 1

Jim

Everyone deserves a second chance. Maybe even a third chance. That was the primary tenet by which I’d been living my life for decades. As the general manager of the Portland Storm, one of the most successful teams in the National Hockey League during my tenure, giving people new opportunities to turn their lives around had been a hallmark of my term. Not only with my players but with the people who worked under me, like my assistant, Rachel Campbell.

The reasons for my need to give a helping hand instead of turning my back on people went deep. I’d been the oldest child of a single mom, and I’d seen how many people had left her—and therefore us—out to dry. But I’d also seen firsthand what a difference it had made in all of our lives when someone offered a helping hand and gave me my first pair of hockey skates.

Then there was my hockey career, which should have been over almost before it began. A very long time ago when I was just starting out in the National Hockey League, one of the GMs I’d played under had given me a second opportunity to prove myself as well as my dedication to the team and my future, and he’d done so at a time when I’d least deserved it. That simple act had changed not only my career for the better but my life.

Something told me he might not understand the impact he’d had on me, but I’d never forgotten the ways his decision had altered my trajectory for the better.

Those reasons, and many others, were why I made such a point of offering second chances where I could and it made sense to do so. Sometimes, those decisions turned around and bit me in the butt. More often, they worked out for the best for everyone concerned. And since things usually came out better for everyone involved, I had no intention of changing my ways.

If I could offer someone the possibility of turning things around, I would do it.

I had to. It was the only way I could live with myself.

That was why, with the Christmas break and the holiday roster freeze breathing down my neck and my team in a serious bind on defense, I was contemplating yet another second-chance scenario.

More than contemplating, actually. I’d already made up my mind, and I’d talked it over in detail with my coaching staff. Everyone was on board. This was the move we needed to make, and I wasn’t about to let it pass me by. If I didn’t snap this guy up now, some other GM would before I could blink. The second half of the season usually separated the wheat from the chaff, and every team in the play-off hunt would be looking for reliable, experienced bodies to fill holes on the blue line. They’d snatch Hammer out of my grasp, and then we would be back to the drawing board.

Chris Hammond sat across from me in my office. The guy everyone called Hammer was a thirty-six-year-old defenseman who’d been there, done that. Once upon a time, he’d won the Stanley Cup with Pittsburgh. He’d been through countless play-off battles over the years, coming out of them bruised and bloodied but usually on top, as long as his team had him situated in the right spot.

The guy had never been top tier. He’d never been in consideration for the big NHL awards. That said, he was solid and dependable, and I needed him.

But he’d had a rough go of it over the last little while. He’d been a victim of the system, more or less.

Three years ago, Hammer had a monster of a season, putting up more points in one year than he had in the previous four combined. It had turned out to be perfect timing for him, since he’d been eligible to become a free agent immediately following that. He’d signed a huge contract with Winnipeg. They’d brought him in, essentially hoping he could fill the role of their top defenseman—never mind the fact that he hadn’t been the top D on his previous team during that best year of his career, or any of the others before that—and the deal hadn’t panned out for the team.

After a couple of years during which his play had regressed to his usual level of production, the Jets had bought out the rest of his contract. And, since he was an older defenseman who was seen by some as being too slow to be relevant in the modern, fast-paced, high-octane NHL, not a single team had signed him as a free agent.

I hadn’t signed him because, at the time, I hadn’t had a spot open for him to fill. Now I did. He’d been keeping himself in playing shape by helping coach his son’s pee-wee team over the last few months, just in case someone called in need of his services.

I was glad to learn I’d been the first to make that call.

“Here’s where we stand,” I said, taking off my bifocals and setting them on the desk between us. I leaned back in my chair and laced my fingers in front of me. “Cole Paxton had an emergency appendectomy yesterday and is out for at least a couple of weeks, probably longer. Andrew Jensen took a puck to the head two weeks ago, and the doctors can’t give me any indication as to when he’ll be cleared. My guess is it could be a while. He might not be back before the play-offs, if then. He hasn’t shown any sign of improvement yet. Keith Burns is playing through a hairline fracture in his foot, and it could deteriorate to the point that he can’t play through the pain at any moment. Whether that happens or not, he’s not nearly as effective right now as normal, and he can’t play as many minutes as he usually does for us. Dominic Medved has had recurring groin issues all season, and I don’t think the doctors are convinced he’s in the clear. That means we’re completely without two of our top three defensemen, the third is only able to give us about fifty percent of what he could if he was healthy, I’ve got an aging role player who may or may not come up lame at any moment, and my healthy D are young, inexperienced, and being asked to fill roles they aren’t ready for. That’s where you come in.”

“You just tell me what you want me to do, Jim. I’ll do it. I’m ready.” If his words weren’t enough to convince me, the eagerness in his tone would have done the trick. A motivated player could make a world of difference in our current situation.

These days, we were in the hunt for the Stanley Cup every year. In fact, last season, the boys had taken it all the way to Game Five of the finals before crumbling to the pressure put on them by the Lightning. The three seven-game series that had come before the finals might have had something to do with our eventual collapse. The Lightning had gone into that last series well rested, having swept two of their three series and only needing five games in the third of them.

All those extra games my guys had played in the summer had meant they didn’t get as much recovery time before this season started as they needed. I knew that had a lot to do with the current injury issues we were facing, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. You had to play all those extra games if you wanted to win the Cup, and if you weren’t fighting tooth and nail to win the Cup, you had no business being in this league.

My guys wanted to win.

Chris Hammond had won before, he wanted to win again, and he could help us do exactly that.

“The coaches and I have talked about it a lot,” I said. “We aren’t going to ask you to do anything but what you do best—defend well and provide a voice of experience. Right now, we want you to come in and help keep the younger guys calm on the ice, so they don’t make stupid decisions with the puck. You’ve got years in this league under your belt. You’ve played in all the toughest situations and on the biggest stages. I know they say you’ve lost a step, but I just want you to come in and be a steadying presence on the blue line, a reassuring voice on the bench.”

A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “I can do that. You just give me a chance to prove it.”

I nodded, giving him another once-over to be sure my instincts still told me what they’d been telling me about him all along. Then I leaned forward and put my elbows on the desk, making a steeple with my hands. “All right. Let’s get your agent on speakerphone and work out the details of your contract, then.”

Twenty minutes later, the Storm had a new veteran defenseman, and I could breathe a bit more freely. Amid the jingling of bells from the wreath hanging from my office door, I walked him out to my assistant’s desk so she could have him sign on all the appropriate lines of his new contract, but when we got there, I stopped short.

Rachel wasn’t alone at her desk like I had expected to find her. She was surrounded by some of my players’ and coaches’ wives, and they all looked up at me with guilty expressions and backed away from Rachel’s desk as soon as they saw me.

Well, not all. David Weber was one of our assistant coaches. His wife, Laura, gave me an appraising look as she slowly stepped back. She’d given me that look several times before, usually when she was trying to get people involved with the team to allow themselves to be auctioned off for charity or to walk a runway to raise money for some cause or another. I’d come to expect her frankness and the way she volunteered people to do what she wanted without asking them first. It was definitely something I could respect and appreciate.

“What project are you signing me up for this time?” I asked, letting out a lighthearted chuckle. I knew better than to think I’d be thrilled about whatever she had planned for me, but I also knew I would go along with it. Everyone did, eventually. Laura had a magnetic personality and an authoritative manner that brooked no argument.

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at me, then gave the other women a victorious smile. “You’ll see,” was all she said. Then she turned to Rachel. “So we’re all set?”

“All set,” Rachel said, and the rest of them scurried off down the hall toward the stairs, leaving me with Rachel and Hammer.

“Do I want to know?” I asked my assistant.

Her freckled cheeks turned pink, which wasn’t uncommon. It was a curse of being a redhead, I’d come to learn in the years she’d been working for me. In lieu of answering my question, she reached for the stack of papers that I’d just sent to her printer and motioned for my new defenseman to take the seat across from her.

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“Consider it our Christmas gift to you,” she replied.

That could either be a good thing or a very bad thing, and based on the wink in her tone, I was leaning toward the bad end of the spectrum.

Elaine

Some people might call it a midlife crisis. I wasn’t one of them.

Yes, I was starting all over again at the age of fifty. Yes, it scared me to death and made me think maybe I’d lost my mind. The truth was that I hadn’t lost my mind, though. I’d just finally come to a point in which I was determined to be exactly who I was and nothing else, to treat myself right, and let the chips fall where they may. Everyone in my life might not agree with or approve of my choices, but I wasn’t going to let insecurities or the opinions of others rule my life anymore. If I was being completely honest with myself, I just plain didn’t have time for that.

Granted, it had taken a kick in the pants from my twenty-four-year-old son, Dillon, to convince me.

“You deserve to find a good man, Mom,” he’d said to me at Thanksgiving as he’d squeezed his girlfriend’s hand. “And he’s out there. I know he is; you just have to open yourself up to finding him.”

“I am open to finding him.”

He’d given me the look over the top of our turkey—the same look that reminded me so much of his father and caused my heart to squeeze every time the recognition hit me square in the chest.

“Okay,” he’d said, “so maybe you’re open to finding him, but you’re not so open to letting him into your life. For years, you used me as an excuse for shutting yourself off from having a man around, but I’m all grown up now. You don’t have to keep protecting me. It’s time for you to look after yourself. I don’t like that you’re all alone.”

“He’s right, Elaine,” Kelsey said, nodding and giving me a sympathetic smile. She was his girlfriend. In fact, I was beginning to think she might be the one.

Point taken. As hard as it might be for me to admit it, my little boy was right. And he wasn’t a little boy anymore but a man, the same age as his father had been when we’d first met.

After Jim had admitted to an extramarital affair, I’d taken Dillon and left. Jim had sworn it had only happened once. That it would never happen again. But the fact was, he’d cheated. He had been an adult, and he’d made a choice, and that choice had devastated me.

Not once in all those years had I seriously entertained the thought of letting another man get close enough to hurt me or my son so deeply. I’d also never been able to forget the man I’d loved and given my heart to only to have it flung in my face.

But it had been twenty years. Two full decades. Dillon was a man now. He was a good man, too. He had a career he loved, a steady girlfriend who—I hoped—would soon be my daughter-in-law, and he was thriving, despite not having his father in his life since he was only four years old.

So, to fulfill my promise to Dillon and Kelsey that I’d try to find the good man who they swore was out there waiting for me, I’d set up a profile on Match.com the day after Thanksgiving. That was how the two of them had met, after all, and their relationship was flourishing. She was absolutely perfect for my son, and I loved her to bits for it.

In the intervening weeks, there had been dozens of men who’d contacted me through the web service. Most of them were as skeevy as I could imagine and then some. A few had seemed decent enough that I’d agreed to go out for coffee, but once I’d met them I’d realized they were miles away from being the sort of man I’d want to spend more than an hour with, let alone the rest of my life. None of them had the same ready smile that Jim had always had, or the huge, giving heart, or the desire to help others the way he always had. No matter what, it all kept coming back to Jim.

I was on the verge of giving up, in all honesty. Maybe online dating worked for some people, but I seemed to only find creepers.

But then last week, Kelsey had convinced me to expand my net. She’d encouraged me to search through profiles of men who might be long distance instead of localized to the Minneapolis-St. Paul metropolitan area, and see whom Match might pair me up with.

I hadn’t had time to take a look since I’d made the change until now. There wasn’t any point in denying that my nerves were through the roof when I logged in to my account.

The first few Match suggestions I came across were as squicky as the men I’d encountered in the early weeks of my endeavor. I checked the boxes to delete them and moved on down the list. There was one man in his early sixties who lived near Chicago and sounded promising. He’d been married for over thirty years and was a widower looking to connect with someone. Three kids, two grandchildren, and, best of all, no dick pic in his profile. I moved him to my maybe list and scrolled down to see who else there was before making a decision as to whether I should contact the widowed grandpa.

And then my heart stopped. Completely quit beating. My chest tightened around it, sending tears to my eyes before, slowly, my pulse kicked back into gear. Because there, smiling back at me through my computer monitor the way he always had in person, was Jim.

He was older, sure. His hair was all gray now, and he wore glasses, but it was definitely the man who still owned my heart. Everything always seemed to point me back in his direction.

I knew what he looked like these days, even without the photo reminder. After all the years he’d spent playing in the NHL, he’d gone on to become a team executive. It had been easy to follow his career since he’d spent so much of it in the limelight. I wouldn’t deny it—I still stalked him online sometimes, keeping up with the teams he’d worked for and watching interviews so I could hear his voice. No matter how many wrinkles he might have, and no matter how gray his hair had turned, his voice was still the same.

He’d hurt me deeply—there was no point arguing that fact—but I still craved the sound of his voice. Sometimes, twenty years later, I woke up in the middle of the night and felt for him in the bed next to me, my heart breaking all over again when my hand came up empty.

Because that’s how I had felt without him all these years.

Empty.

In the twenty years since I’d left, the hurt had lessened and forgiveness had blossomed in my heart, even though Dillon still held the sort of grudge that only a boy who’d been deprived of his father could hold. Even though I’d forgiven Jim, though, I wasn’t prepared for the kind of gut-wrenching, heart-squeezing response I was currently experiencing over finding his profile on a silly dating site.

I knew I shouldn’t do it, that putting myself through this was only asking for trouble, but I couldn’t stop myself. I clicked on his profile and read every single word.

It turned out it wasn’t Jim who’d created the profile, even. Some of his players’ wives had covertly put it together. They’d written: For years, we’ve watched as Jim has given dozens of people—players and otherwise—a second chance, but we’ve never seen him do it for himself. We know he was married once. We don’t know what happened to bring that marriage to an end, but at this point it doesn’t matter. He’s the kindest man any of us know, and he deserves to have someone in his life who will love him the way he loves every single person he’s come into contact with. And because of that, we want to help him out. Maybe give him a little shove in the right direction. If you think you might be that woman—if you want to be treated like a queen by a kind, considerate, caring, loving, giving man—then send us a message. We would love to talk to you.

My phone rang, and I glanced down to see Dillon’s name and photo flashing at me. I swiped my thumb over the screen to answer. “Hello?”

“Mom?” He waited a beat. Then, “Why are you crying?” he demanded.

Was I crying?

I reached up to my cheek with my other hand and came away with salty tears on my fingertips. How was it that my son could tell that from only hearing a single word from my mouth, and I didn’t even realize it was happening? And how long had I been sitting here with tears falling down my cheeks? I glanced down to find dark, wet spots on my shirt. Big ones. I must have been at it for a while. It might have even started the instant I’d seen Jim’s picture pop up on my monitor.

“Mom?” Dillon repeated.

“I’m fine.” Fine probably wasn’t the right word, but I wasn’t sure what would be better.

“You don’t sound fine.”

“Well, maybe I’m not right this minute. But I will be.”

“What’s going on?”

I rested the phone between my cheek and my shoulder so I could use both hands to type a response to the women who wanted to set up my ex-husband. “I think I’m about to reconcile with your father.”

Silence met me on the other end of the line.

CHAPTER 2

Elaine

T  wo days before Christmas, I stood at baggage claim at PDX, luggage in hand, and searched the sea of faces for Laura Weber. She’d texted me a picture of herself so I’d know who I was looking for, but I was shaking so hard I wasn’t sure I’d recognize the back of my own hand. I hadn’t been this nervous since the day of my wedding. Lucky for me, she tapped me on the shoulder before I’d found her.

“Here,” she said, passing me a brown paper bag that undoubtedly held a bottle of wine. She took the handles of one of my suitcases. “Can’t drink it in the car, but there’s no law that says you can’t drink it before you get in.”

I took a breath, and then I took the wine.

She passed me her keys, which had a corkscrew attached.

“How did you know this was exactly what I’d need?”

“Just a guess. I’ve always got some handy.” She headed out of the building toward the parking lot.

“You’re an angel.” I followed her, taking a long swallow and hauling my other bag behind me.

“Be sure to tell my husband that when you meet him, because when he finds out that I’ve been meddling with Jim’s love life…” She shook her head.

“You’re meddling for good reason, though.”

“I don’t think Dave will see it that way, but we’ll run with your suggestion for now. I like it better than reality.” She stopped behind an SUV and clicked the remote so the back end would open. We loaded the bags in, and she glanced at her watch as she closed it. “We’ve got time before the game tonight to get you checked in at your hotel if you want, or we can head over to meet up with the other girls and introduce you around. Some of them can’t get to the arena until later, but my daughters are both there already, and Paige Bergstrom said she and her girls would probably be there early, too.”

As much as heading to the hotel first sounded appealing, I knew it was a bad idea. It would only allow me more opportunities to chicken out, and I didn’t leave Dillon and Kelsey at Christmas in order to get cold feet. I had to do this. I shook my head. “Let’s just go to the arena.”

“Whatever you want,” she said. She took the wine, replaced the cork, and packed the bottle in the back with all my things before we climbed into our seats.

On the way, she chitchatted about everything under the moon except digging to find out details about what had happened between me and Jim. I’d been expecting her to grill me about the reason for our split the second I landed, since she hadn’t delved into it when I’d first contacted her, but she was avoiding that subject like stinky feet.

It preyed on my mind, though. Would Jim want to see me? Would he be amenable to trying to get back together again? While it was true that he’d been in the wrong when he’d cheated on me, the intervening years had opened my eyes to some of my own faults. Like the fact that I hadn’t believed him when he’d claimed it had only happened once, despite all the evidence pointing toward his words being the truth. Or how I hadn’t given him the benefit of the doubt when he’d promised it would never happen again. Then there was the fact that I hadn’t thought twice about ending the best thing that had ever happened to me after one single—albeit devastating—bad decision. And I couldn’t ignore the fact that I’d indirectly deprived a good man of a relationship with his son, and my son of a relationship with his father, all because of one single mistake.

A huge mistake, yes.

But it was just one. And no one was perfect—certainly not me—so it wasn’t fair of me to expect perfection from Jim. That hadn’t stopped me from expecting it, or from being furious when he’d proven himself to be human. The least I could have done at the time was agree to talk it out with him, or to go to counseling. To see if we could have found a way to work through it. But I hadn’t given him—us—a chance. There was no excusing what he’d done, but in recent years I’d started to think about all the what ifs. What if I’d stayed?

All of this kept racing through my head as Laura nattered on and drove us to the arena. The effect of it all combined with the wine she’d given me left me nauseated.

“I might have made a mistake,” I interrupted her.

She stopped talking and kept her eyes on the road ahead of us. I turned in my seat to see her more fully. She had the look of a woman weighing her words.

“You want to go to the hotel first?” she finally asked me, although it was clear from her tone that she hadn’t missed my meaning.

I shook my head. “I think I should just go home. Pretend I never came out here. Forget I ever saw Jim’s profile on that stupid website.”

“But you did see it, and you came. I understand being nervous, but why not let this play out and see what will come of it?”

My tears were back, and this time I was fully aware of them. I blinked against the sting, trying to keep the silly things at bay. No use. They spilled over my cheeks, surely ruining my makeup.

“Now don’t go getting yourself all worked up until you know if there’s a good reason for it. Here,” she said, rummaging in the console between us. She took out a tissue pack and handed it to me. “I’m all for having a good cry sometimes, but you’ve got to get the timing right. This isn’t it.”

“Thank you,” I said through my sniffles. I took out a tissue and dried my eyes. Then I flipped down the sun visor. There was a mirror on the back, thank goodness. Apparently I hadn’t completely destroyed my makeup.

Yet.

The arena loomed large to the right, and Laura turned that direction. Before I had completely fixed the damage I’d caused to my makeup, she was being waved into the parking garage by the attendant.

“If you’re going to puke, please wait until you’re out of my car.”

“Trying,” I forced out. “You don’t think there’s any chance Jim won’t be around tonight, do you? Maybe he’s sick? Or what if he decided to travel early to go check out the World Juniors or something?”

“Keep dreaming, hon. He’s going to be here. Rachel made sure of it. And everything’s going to be fine. I’m sure of it.”

By the time she’d found a spot to park, I’d reined my nerves in enough to put on a brave face, despite the anxiety doing a tap dance in my belly. She opened the back and took out the bottle of wine. When I came around to join her, she thrust it in my hands.

“For courage. Drink some more. It’ll help.”

I’d never been much of a drinker, but now seemed as good a time as any to follow her advice. I took a long swallow before tucking it beside my luggage and nodding that I was ready.

She took me by the elbow and guided me into the building. Almost a dozen women and their kids turned with excited smiles when we walked into the owner’s box on the suite level. They swarmed over to embrace me, each of them drawing me in for a hug and gushing about how perfect it all was and what a great surprise my arrival would be for Jim. Completely numb, other than the buzz from drinking my wine too fast, I could do nothing more than smile and nod as they welcomed me.

Until a young girl with Down syndrome put both arms around my waist and hugged me tighter than anyone but Dillon had ever done before. She took my breath away with her sweetness, both literally and figuratively. When she finally let go, she held up a sprig of mistletoe with a red bow tied around it and handed it to me.

“This is for you and Mr. Jim. I told Mom you needed it because it would help. It worked for Q and Miss Mia. They told me all about it.”

“Well, thank you…” I fingered the bow, debating whether I should hold on to it or toss it and run as fast as I could back to Minnesota. Because, while I’d forgiven Jim for everything he’d done, I wasn’t sure he was ready to forgive himself. Or me. How could he forgive me for taking his son out of his life? That was at least as egregious as the fact that he’d cheated. I wasn’t going to make excuses for him, but I couldn’t make excuses for myself, either.

But I couldn’t run. I’d already argued about what I was doing with Dillon enough. The last thing I needed was to disappear before I’d seen it through.

Jim

“A problem? What kind of problem?” I barked into my phone, already racing toward the elevators on the press-box level at the Moda Center before Rachel could answer.

“Just get down here quick,” she said. Then she hung up the phone, not giving me the chance to get any more information out of her. Or any information at all, actually.

The game was as good as over, and going well, thanks in no small part to Hammer’s steadying presence on the back end. Medved had gone off early in the first period, limping like he’d pulled his groin again, so we’d only had five D out there for the majority of the game. But none of them had panicked. Burnzie and Hammer kept their cool, and that rubbed off on 501, Harry, and Demidov. It didn’t matter who’d gone out there without his regular partner; they’d just gotten the job done. And even though it had been a low-scoring game, we’d gotten two quick goals in the second period—only twelve seconds apart—and Nicky Ericsson was working on his third shutout of the season.

There were only five minutes left in the third, but anything could happen in that time. Our two goals were proof enough of that. Rachel knew how fast things could change in this game as well as anyone. She wouldn’t have called me away from watching the boys unless there was a damned good reason for it.

Maybe someone was hurt. Or somehow someone got past security and was in there with the guys’ wives and kids when they shouldn’t have been. I didn’t know what was going on, but it was definitely something, not to mention important. Which explained why I was out of breath and more than halfway to full panic by the time I rushed through the doors of the owner’s box.

Then I couldn’t breathe for an entirely different reason.

Instead of chaos greeting me, it was Elaine.

My ex-wife.

The woman who still owned my heart, even all these years later.

The woman whose heart I’d broken in a moment of youthful weakness and utter stupidity.

It had been nearly twenty years since I’d last laid eyes on her. I’d talked to her over the phone in that time, making sure she and Dillon had everything they needed, getting reports about him once he’d become a teenager and refused to have anything to do with me, but phone calls weren’t the same as seeing her in the flesh.

Her hair was still blond, her eyes a beautiful moss green. She had on a sweater that matched her eyes and looked as soft as silk. The last time I’d seen her in the flesh, she’d had the most perfect, flawless skin. It still glowed today, but there were a few wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. Not anywhere near as many as I had, and somehow they only made her more beautiful to me.

My arms ached to hold her.

But Elaine wasn’t mine, and she hadn’t been for a long time. She never would be again. I’d lost her and my self-respect in a single act. I’d been working to regain my opinion of myself ever since, but I knew better than to think I could ever win my wife back.

Some hurts dig too deep. Some scars never fade.

“Hi,” she said, sounding as breathless as I felt. Her voice had changed. It was a bit lower than I remembered. Rougher around the edges. Sexy as all hell.

I nodded, my tongue too thick to respond to her, and forced my mind back to figuring out what Rachel had called me down here for. I spotted my assistant’s bright red hair in the crowd and gave her a questioning look, since I couldn’t make my mouth work.

“Merry Christmas, Jim,” Rachel said. She waved her arm toward Elaine, as if that was enough explanation.

And it hit me.

This was what she’d been up to with Laura Weber and the other wives last week.

This was the surprise.

Not this—Elaine.

I didn’t know how they’d managed to get her here. Couldn’t fathom what they might have told her to convince her to come. All I knew was it would backfire. Go up in flames.

Because I’d cheated on her.

There wasn’t anything I could do to change the past.

There wasn’t a damned thing I could do to be worthy of Elaine’s understanding, and without that, there was no point in them bringing her here.

“I’m sorry,” I said, first to Rachel and the other wives. But then I met Elaine’s eyes and held her gaze. “I’m so sorry,” I said again.

She shook her head, and a soft look came into her eyes.

It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough, but it was all I had. It was the only thing I could give her. Then I spun around and headed out of there before I made a fool of myself, begging her for the forgiveness I would never deserve.

CHAPTER 3

Elaine

I  shouldn’t have come. I shouldn’t have been stupid enough to think that he was ready for us to move on from the mistakes we’d made in the past.

That much was clear from the fact that Jim would rather walk away from me than say more than three words, let alone hear what I had to say to him. The way he’d apologized, his voice filled with intense anguish and his eyes full of regret, had ripped me to shreds as much as everything that had happened all those years ago.

The only thing I’d accomplished by showing up here was to rip open an old wound for both of us. For Dillon, too. And maybe I’d tossed some salt on all three of those wounds while I was at it.

My heart in my throat, my feet cemented to the floor, I watched Jim walk away. The last time he’d gone, I’d been a sobbing, screaming mess, throwing things at his retreating form to hurry him along. This time, I was desperate for him to stop. To turn around. To come back. But I couldn’t seem to find the gumption to tell him.

“If you don’t go after him, I will,” Laura said from somewhere in the sea of women and children behind me. “We all will.”

“This was a mistake. The whole thing. I shouldn’t be here.”

“Then why did you come? Why did you get on a plane and fly halfway across the country—away from your son at Christmas—if all you’re going to do is say hi and let him turn his back on you?” Laura took my arm and turned me to face her. A scowl marred her otherwise flawless features. “Look, I’m not going to sit here and pretend I know what happened between you two. I don’t know what split you up or kept you apart for so long. I don’t know why you came back now. I don’t have the first clue what it is he’s so sorry about. But I do know this. You clearly still love him or you wouldn’t have made the effort. He still loves you or he wouldn’t be beating himself up like he is. And you know what? We all adore Jim. Every single person in this room, and all of his players. Everyone involved with this organization. We love him. We want the best for him. Now, maybe that’s you. But if you don’t chase after him, if you don’t stop him and make him talk to you, then I doubt it. He deserves someone who’s willing to insist he take a dose of his own medicine, even if he’s fighting against it.”

I hadn’t gotten to know Laura very well in the brief time we’d been acquainted, but I appreciated her frankness. She was right. Absolutely one hundred percent right. No matter how nervous I might be, and no matter how my doubts might be screwing with my head, there was a lot of truth to what she said.

So I took a breath.

I squared my shoulders.

And I took off after my ex-husband, only to be stopped by a small but strong and insistent hand on my elbow.

“You almost forgot your mistletoe,” Sophie said, pressing the beribboned bundle into my hand.

I fingered the satin ribbon and forced an anxious smile to my lips. “Wouldn’t want to forget that.” Or would I? If Jim was running off, he probably wouldn’t be inclined to fall prey to a silly holiday tradition, even if I worked up the nerve to try to make use of it. Still, I thanked her and hurried on my way.

Jim was well ahead of me in the corridor, but I could still make out his retreating form. There wasn’t much time left on the game clock, though, which meant that the jam-packed arena would soon be emptying. I had to catch him before the final buzzer, or I wouldn’t have a chance. The crowd would make it impossible.

I couldn’t remember a time in my life that I’d run in pumps, but there was no time like the present to start.

“Jim!” I called out. The noises from the ongoing game drowned out my shout, submerging my voice under the excited chatter, the hustle and bustle of almost twenty thousand people on the edges of their seats.

He didn’t even flinch. My shouts didn’t have a chance in hell of carrying through all of this. I increased my pace to match the frantic beat of my heart, but he was getting close to the elevator bay. If he got on…

“Jim!” I shouted once more, sounding desperate even to my own ears.

He didn’t hear me, but the security guard standing next to the elevator did. He said something to Jim and pointed in my direction. Thank the Lord for small blessings. That held Jim up enough that I was able to reach him, puffing and panting and clutching at the stitch in my side.

He looked at me with the same pained expression of moments ago and shook his head. “Why are you here, Elaine?”

I fumbled with the mistletoe in my hands, staring down at the ribbon and smoothing it between my thumb and forefinger. Then I shrugged. “I’m not sure.” I glanced up at him as I said it, gauging his reaction.

He shuffled his feet, glancing back at the security guard still within earshot. Then he nodded his head toward a quiet corner near the window overlooking the highway below.

I followed, tempted to reach for his hand. It was too soon for that. Way too soon. Especially if I couldn’t even articulate the thousands of emotions that had been racing through me for days. Hell, for years. I wasn’t even sure how long ago it was that I’d forgiven him.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, taking that choice away from me. “You’ve traveled a long way to not know why you came.”

The horn sounded in the distance, making the floor reverberate beneath us. Within seconds, thousands of fans poured out of the stands into the concourse, their voices flooding the air. They all headed straight for the escalators, though, leaving us alone in our corner. I glanced over my shoulder at the sea of happy faces, many of them wearing red Santa hats and other holiday gear to complement their purple-and-silver Storm jerseys.

Contemplating my words carefully, I met Jim’s gaze head on. I still didn’t know how to articulate everything that had been keeping me up at night. “The girls said you didn’t know they were trying to set you up,” I said, since I had to start somewhere.

His jaw dropped. “With you? How did they find you? Why would…?”

“They didn’t. Not exactly.” I twirled the ribbon around one finger, slowly unwrapping it. “I found you.”

Jim shook his head, not following.

“They listed you on Match.com.”

He dragged a hand down his face in embarrassment.

“That’s where I found your profile. And I… I knew I had to contact them. Because if I didn’t, I would regret it for the rest of my life.”

“Regret it? I don’t—”

“I want another chance, Jim.”

“You’re not the one who needs another chance. You’re not—”

“I do need another chance,” I cut in, tears suddenly making tracks down my cheeks. I should have gone without makeup. It was a rookie mistake, and I was way too old to be making slipups like that. But it had been so long since I’d dated, since I’d been with a man at all, that I felt like a complete novice where all of this was concerned. “You made a bad decision. I’m not denying that. But I did, too.”

“You left because I cheated on you,” he said, without even a hint of humor. The lines in his face deepened, like cuts digging into his flesh. “You didn’t cheat. You made the only decision that made sense.”

“That wasn’t the only decision I could have made. And I’m not convinced it was the right choice. We could’ve gone into counseling. We could have tried to make it work.”

“You deserve better than that. I didn’t honor our vows.”

“I’m not saying you’re a saint. You screwed up, and nothing can change that. But you know what I deserve? I deserve to love and be loved. I think we could have that, if you’re willing to try. You said it was a mistake that would haunt you for the rest of your life. And it has haunted you, hasn’t it? Have you—” I stopped, shaking my head.

“Have I what?” His voice, usually so steady and sure, cracked and dissipated.

“Have you ever even dated since I left?”

He shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal.

“Because I don’t think you have,” I said. “I’ve been watching you all these years. Following your career. Stalking you in my own way, I guess you could say. Never once have I seen a woman on your arm at an event. There’s never been mention of one in an interview. Nothing.”

“Have you been dating, then?” This time, it was Jim giving me the look, like Dillon had at Thanksgiving. “It’s been just as long for you. How well have you moved on?”

“Not well. I’m trying, though. That’s why I’m here.”

“Maybe I’m not ready to try.”

“Not ready?” I asked. “Or is it that you don’t think you should?”

“Some things you just can’t ever come back from. Some mistakes are too big.”

“Says who? The man who gives everyone under the moon a second chance?”

He rolled his eyes.

“I’ve been paying attention. You’re constantly taking on guys everyone else has given up on. Brenden Campbell.”

“I played with his father. You remember that.”

“He’s far from the only one,” I said. “Blake Kozlow. No one wanted to touch him. They all said he was a lost cause, full of talent but bound to flame out, but you brought him on. You made him part of the team. You gave him a place to belong. Rachel told me she was one of your hard luck cases, too. And you just did it again with Hammond.”

“That’s different.”

“It’s not.”

“It’s hockey.”

“It’s your life,” I insisted. “It’s what you do every day. Every time you see someone who seems down on their luck, you find a way to give them a helping hand.”

“I’m not down on my luck.”

I swung my arms in frustration, trying to come up with an argument he wouldn’t immediately shoot down. His eyes followed my hand.

“Mistletoe?” he asked, his tone lightening slightly.

“Sophie gave it to me. She thought it would help.”

“Sophie?” Jim chuckled slightly, shaking his head. “They’re really all in on this, aren’t they?”

“I think so. At least most of your players’ wives, and several of the coaches’ wives, too.”

“And the kids.”

“Yeah.” I went back to twirling the ribbon around my finger.

“That’s what I get for trying to make this thing like a family. They all gang up on me.”

They were the only family he had, since I’d left him and Dillon had cut him out of his life. I knew why he worked so hard at making things a family atmosphere with this team, whether anyone else knew or not. That was something that had become abundantly clear to me during the game, when I’d been up in the owner’s box with the family. Every person here cared about everyone else. And him. Especially him. “They love you, Jim,” I said. I doubted they could help it.

He shook it off. “It’s just because I’m the GM.”

“It’s not. It’s because you’re you.”

Everyone had always loved him, as long as I’d known him. It’d been easy to fall in love with him. He had a smile for everyone he met, and he had such a big heart. The day we first met, I’d known right away that I was in trouble. He’d been out at the bar after a game with a bunch of his teammates. I’d been there with some girlfriends from college. I’d been underage. The girls had snuck me in with a fake ID, but I hadn’t been brave enough to order a real drink the whole night.

At one point, the other girls had all been off flirting with various men, leaving me alone. An overly drunk guy from my school had come on to me and wouldn’t back off. I was trying to figure out a way to get away from him when Jim had come along. He’d put an arm around the guy’s shoulders, told a few jokes, and led the guy to the bar—well away from me. When Jim had returned, he’d brought a Shirley Temple for me, since the bartender had told him what I’d been drinking all night.

Thank you, I’d said. For the drink and for getting rid of him.

No big deal. I signed his arm and made sure his buddies would get him home safe. And then he’d smiled at me. Do you have anyone making sure you get home safe?

I’d held up my Shirley Temple, as a reminder. I’m the designated driver tonight.

So I guess that means you won’t let me drive you home and walk you to your door, huh?

Do guys still do that? Walk a girl to her door? Seems kind of old-fashioned.

He’d grinned, a smile that had lit up his blue eyes like the sky on a clear spring afternoon. Maybe not all guys. But I do. I guess you could say I’m an old-fashioned kind of guy.

Old fashioned is good, I’d said. And I’d melted a bit.

He’d hung around and talked to me the rest of the night, staying right by my side to make sure the creep wouldn’t return. When the time had come for me to drive the other girls home, he’d followed me to each of their apartments and then followed me to mine. And he’d walked me to my door, waiting to hear me click the lock into place. He didn’t walk away until I’d given him my phone number, though, having me slip it under the door on a torn-off scrap of notebook paper.

That was all it had taken for me to fall in love with him. And over the years, I’d watched as he’d worked the same magic on countless others. He’d always had a ready smile and a heart too big to fit in his chest, which worked as a magnet. Everyone was drawn to him.

Yet somehow, he’d always had a hard time showing himself the same compassion that he gave freely to everyone around him, whether they deserved it or not.

It was time for that to change. Jim needed a dose of his own medicine. And apparently, it was up to me to be sure he got it. I’d forgiven him long ago; now I needed to help him find a way to forgive himself.

CHAPTER 4

Jim

I t’s because you’re you. Elaine’s words kept rolling through my mind on repeat, and I wished I could believe them. But so did other words that had once come from her lips, and they were much louder and more insistent. How could you? I kept waiting for you to call so Dillon and I could tell you happy birthday, but you were too busy with some puck bunny slut to bother with your wife and son.

In twenty years, I’d never been able to get those words out of my head. I might be able to push them aside briefly, but they always came back to haunt me.

I’d been on the road with a new team after being traded at the deadline. Elaine and Dillon had stayed behind in Hartford, since she hadn’t been able to pack up everything and come with me at the drop of a hat. I hadn’t seen her or my son in weeks, I didn’t know or like my new teammates yet, and I was lonely. Insanely lonely. So instead of doing the smart thing and going back to my hotel room to call them, I’d ended up at a bar on my birthday, and I’d had way too much to drink, and I’d made the biggest mistake of my life.

Admitting it as soon as possible didn’t absolve me from what I’d done. Nothing could erase the past.

Since Elaine had already been busy packing up our entire house, it had been easy enough for her to put it all in a moving truck headed back to her hometown in Minnesota instead of going all the way across the country to join me in LA.

And that had been that.

I’d screwed up, so I had to be a man and accept the consequences. Those consequences weren’t supposed to include my ex-wife standing in front of me two decades later and asking for another chance.

The noise around us seemed to press in even though we were still well away from the crowd. Elaine folded her arms in front of her, tucking the mistletoe away and holding herself as if a chill had taken hold of her. It wouldn’t be a surprise. She’d always gotten cold easily, and they kept it nice and cool in the arena for our games. So many nights, she’d burrowed up against me, trying to absorb as much of my warmth as she could. Out of instinct, I took off my suit jacket and put it around her shoulders.

“Thank you,” she said.

“We should…” We shouldn’t be doing this. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”

I wasn’t sure where that had come from, but she was here. It seemed like the least I could do after she’d made this kind of effort.

“How about a coffee?”

“I can do coffee. Let’s go get your purse.”

She made a face.

“What?”

“I haven’t checked into my hotel yet. My bags are still in Laura’s SUV. She was going to take me. I don’t want—”

“Let’s get your bags, then. I’ll make sure you get to your hotel safe.” But then I thought of the first time I’d met her. That had been a bar and me following her to her apartment, but the similarity was undeniable.

A soft smile came over her face, and she looked down at the floor. No doubt she was remembering the same thing I was. “You never change, do you, Jim?”

“I’ve changed a lot.”

She chuckled. “Not really. Not in the important ways.”

I didn’t know what to do with that, so I started walking back toward the owner’s box so we could get Laura and go down to the parking garage. Elaine came alongside me, her fingers clutching the lapels of my jacket.

I couldn’t seem to help myself. I put my hand on the small of her back like I’d done so many times before.

My heart hurt with wanting.

Christmas was always difficult enough for me, because I had to spend it alone. But this… This was too much.

Elaine

“I made a mistake,” I said, warming my hands on my cup of vanilla latte. The bit of mistletoe Sophie had given me rested on the table between us, safely within reach but also not over either of our heads. Most of the employees had on Santa hats, and someone had painted Santa and his reindeer on the windows. Holiday tunes came over the sound system to go along with the festive air the staff had created.

In the Starbucks he’d brought me to, the air was warmer than the arena had been, but I was still chilly. He hadn’t asked for me to return his jacket, not even when we’d gone outside in the almost-freezing air. Not only that, but he’d bought my coffee, opened doors for me, and held out my chair to help me sit. It only made me believe what I’d told him more than ever before. He was still exactly the same in all the ways that mattered. Now I needed to convince him of that.

“I made a mistake,” Jim interrupted.

I scowled and held up a hand. “Let me finish, please. You’ve had twenty years to beat yourself up over your mistakes. But you weren’t alone.”

“I haven’t been beating myself up over it all this time.”

“Haven’t you? Tell me why it is you’re so intent on helping everyone you come across who’s made a mistake, then?”

“Everyone makes mistakes.”

I raised my brows to make a point. “Right. Everyone makes mistakes. You did. And so did I, because I gave up on you. I didn’t give us a chance to get through the bad times. For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health. All marriages go through tough times. When I married you, I promised to stick by your side when we hit those tough times. But I didn’t. I walked away, even though I loved you more than I loved anyone but Dillon, even though it ripped my heart to shreds to leave you. I know you, Jim.”

“You knew me.”

I shook my head. “No, I know you. I know you’ll do anything in your power to make someone smile. I know you’re always looking out for everyone around you, often to your own detriment. I know you beat yourself up when you make a mistake and then work ten times harder than everyone else to be sure you’ll never make that same mistake again. And I know I was wrong to not give you another chance, because if things were reversed—if I were the one who’d cheated—you would have given me another opportunity to prove myself. Because that’s who you are. It’s what you do.”

Jim stared out the window for a long time, and I could practically see the wheels spinning in his head. Which meant I was starting to get through to him. I was chipping away at all the doubts that had been eating him from the inside for years. He took off his glasses and folded in the earpieces before meeting my eyes.

“So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying it’s my turn. You give everyone a second chance. I want mine. And I want you to take yours, for once.”

“I gathered that much,” he said. He fumbled with his glasses before finally setting them down next to the mistletoe. “I guess what I mean is why? Why now?”

And that was the question I’d been asking myself ever since the moment I’d told Dillon what I planned to do. I took a sip, stalling for time. The hit of warmth and caffeine gave me courage, and I decided to spit it out before I could change my mind. “Because I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you, and I don’t think I ever will. And I think you still love me, too.”

Tears started pricking at the backs of my eyes again. Because I was afraid. What if I was wrong? What if Dillon had been right when he’d told me I’d lost my mind? What if Jim really did have some other woman in his life, but he kept her out of the public eye? What if I’d just left everything out there on a whim, laid my heart on the table between us, and it was all for nothing?

The truth was, he might not love me anymore. I hoped he did. I’d taken a huge risk on that hope, and it could come back to bite me in the butt. When I’d left and taken our son with me, it had to have hurt him as deeply as his infidelity had hurt me. Was it too much? Or the time? Had it been too long?

He hadn’t said a word since I’d made my declaration. Seconds kept ticking by on my watch, counting down to the moment he would either hand my heart back to me—carefully, of course, because this was Jim—or he would accept my olive branch. And I didn’t have the first clue which it would be.

The longer he took to answer, the further my heart dropped. If he had to think about it this long, it couldn’t be good. Could it? Or was it just my anxiety getting in the way of thinking clearly? The music switched to the Frank Sinatra version of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.” A sign? Or a slap in the face? I wasn’t sure. I finished off my latte and got up to toss the cup in the garbage, but Jim reached for my hand when I would have walked past him.

“Elaine?”

My pulse skipped a few beats from his touch and the torment in his voice. “Yes?”

“What about Dillon?”

Our son was absolutely the last thing I wanted him to ask me about right now. I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “What about him?”

“What does he think about all of this?” He looked up and held my gaze as firmly as he held my hand. His grip was so warm I didn’t want to break contact.

“He thinks I’m making a huge mistake,” I finally said. “But he refuses to see that I forgave you for your mistakes a long time ago, and I’m trying to mend fences with you now. He’s stubborn like that, kind of like his father.”

The corners of Jim’s lips quirked up for a moment. “Glad he’s like me at least in some ways.”

“He’s like you in a lot of ways. Every day, he does or says something that makes me think of you.”

Now, a full smile took over his face. Except for his eyes. It wasn’t quite there yet. “I bet he hates that.”

“He might if he knew how much alike you two are.” I bit my lip, pondering my next move. “He blames you. But he should blame me just as much. It takes two to make a marriage, and it takes two to break a marriage.”

“I don’t want him to blame you.” He teased the pad of his thumb over the back of my hand. “A man needs his mother.”

“Dillon needs his father, too. He doesn’t want to. But I think he’ll come around.”

“Do you? What makes you think that?”

I shrugged. “Just a hunch. Because I don’t have any intention of walking away again. Maybe you don’t want me to stick around. If you tell me to leave, to go back to Minnesota and Dillon, I will. But you’re going to have to tell me to go. Otherwise, I want to make this work. And if we manage it, he’ll have to get over the grudge he’s holding if he wants to keep his relationship with me.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Our son is a good man, Jim. But he’s a man now. He’s making his own decisions. He doesn’t need me the way he once did.” I threaded my fingers with his, and a shot of adrenaline coursed through me because he allowed it. “You know, he’s dating a really sweet girl. I think he’s going to ask her to marry him soon.”

“Yeah?” Jim’s eyes filled with both joy and sadness over that.

“Yeah. And he thinks he knows what marriage shouldn’t be. I think we need to show him what a marriage should be. He needs to see that marriage is hard work. That sometimes you make mistakes in your marriage, but when you do that, you need to fight to make things right instead of running away from the things you’ve done wrong, or the wrongs that have been done to you. Because when you love someone the way I love you, it’s not always easy. But it’s still worth it.”

He blinked a few times, weighing his words. “Is it really?”

“You know it is. And more than that, you’re worth it.”

CHAPTER 5

Jim

M y head still reeling, I wheeled Elaine’s suitcases behind me as we walked into the hotel lobby to the strains of Elvis’s “Blue Christmas.” That was one I related to all too well. Even if I spent the holidays with the family of someone on my staff—I usually got invitations from no less than a dozen people to join them—it wasn’t the same as being with my own family. The holiday season was always rough on me. It would be easier if the NHL didn’t shut down for those days, but I couldn’t begrudge my players and coaching staff the time off.

Family is the most important thing in this world. I knew that better than anyone.

I waited while Elaine got checked in, the whole time rethinking my decision to bring her here. Why not just take her home with me? Before we’d left Starbucks, we’d agreed to spend as much time together as possible until she went back to Minnesota after the New Year, trying to work through all the decades of hurt between us so we could make a decision about the future. We hadn’t so much as kissed each other yet, though, so taking her to my house felt like skipping over a bunch of crucial steps.

Tucking her wallet back into her purse, she crossed over to me and reached for the handle of one suitcase with a shy smile, shrugging her way out of my suit jacket.

I shook my head to stop her before she got the jacket all the way off. “I’ve got them.”

She tugged on the lapels again, tightening my jacket around her body. It looked good on her, taking me back to our early days together.

“I just—I thought maybe you’d be ready to go home for the night. This has been a lot to take in. For both of us.”

“It has been, but that’s not a good enough reason for me to leave you until I’m sure you’re safe in your room.”

She chuckled and shook her head in a familiar way, but then she headed toward the elevator bay. When we got in, she pressed the button for the eighteenth floor. The strains of “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” filled the space as we rode up. Elaine kept fingering the piece of mistletoe she’d been carrying around all night, staring down at it in her hands. It made me want to be Santa right now.

We’d held hands earlier, and she’d let me put a hand on her waist as we’d walked. But we hadn’t come close to a kiss. Taking her home with me might be moving too fast, but a kiss couldn’t be a bad thing. Could it?

I hadn’t decided yet when the elevator doors opened and she led the way to her room.

She opened the door and held it for me to follow her in with her bags. I lifted the heavier one onto the luggage rack so she wouldn’t have to struggle with it later.

She was smiling when I faced her. “See? You haven’t changed a bit. Not in the ways that matter. You’re still getting me safely to my door and doing all the heavy lifting.”

I couldn’t stop myself from smiling right along with her. This felt good. Being with her again. Talking. Hearing her voice and remembering how good we’d been together before. “Old habits die hard,” I finally said.

“We’re really getting old, aren’t we?”

“I am. I don’t know about you.” To my eye, the years hadn’t been as hard on her as they had on me. There was still that youthful excitement in her eyes that had initially drawn me to her, and even though tears had come easily to her eyes tonight, they hadn’t stopped her from smiling and laughing.

“We were really stupid to let so many years pass,” she said, sighing as she sat on the edge of the bed. She kept playing with the ribbon on the mistletoe, tangling it between her fingers and unfurling it a moment later.

Now or never. “Are you just going to play with that all night, or are you going to put it to use?”

Her eyes flickered up to meet mine. “Sophie gave it to me with a specific purpose in mind.”

I raised my eyebrows in question, waiting for Elaine to take the lead. She’d been doing a good job of it all night long.

She patted the spot beside her on the bed. “Come here, Jim.”

I didn’t waste any time taking the seat she’d offered, heart in my throat and blood roaring through my veins.

Her chest rose and fell with shaky breaths when she tipped her face back to look at me. “We weren’t this awkward the first time, were we?”

I shook my head. “It didn’t mean as much then. We didn’t know any better.”

The first time I’d kissed her was after the first real date I’d taken her on. It was fall, and we’d gone to a park people liked to take their dogs to. Back in those days, there wasn’t any such thing as a dog park, but this was as close as you could come to it. Neither of us had dogs, but it hadn’t mattered in the least to either of us. We’d gone, and we’d played with other peoples’ dogs in the massive piles of autumn leaves, laughing until our stomachs hurt too much to laugh any more but unable to stop.

The sun had still been out when I’d walked Elaine back to her apartment, both of us out of breath from laughing so hard. She’d nearly tripped on the steps leading up to her door, and when I’d caught her, she’d fallen into my arms. The only natural thing to do was to kiss her. So I that was exactly what I did.

I think I knew in that moment that my life was about to change for the better. But I’d only realized it once my lips were on hers, once she was in my arms.

Now, sitting next to her in this hotel room, it felt even more momentous than that first kiss had. This was it. My second chance—the only one that would ever really matter, because it was with the love of my life.

I didn’t want to screw it up.

Elaine made her move at the same time I did. We bumped noses, and she laughed, the same way she had that day in the park when she’d been buried in a mountain of leaves.

There wasn’t a more beautiful sound in the world.

I changed the angle of my head and tried again.

This time, I got it right.

She was still laughing, but she put a hand on the nape of my neck and tugged me closer. I might have laughed, too. But then I slid my tongue along the seam of her lips, and she opened, and our laughter got lost in a kiss.

I DIDN’T SLEEP much at all that night. My brain wouldn’t shut off. It had always been a problem for me, since I’d been a little boy trying to take care of my mom after my father died. I would lie in bed for hours with thoughts racing through my head—analyzing things I could have done differently, waffling over what I needed to do next—all sorts of things that an eight-year-old boy shouldn’t be thinking about. But I’d done it then, and I still did it today.

For years, I’d spent hours each night replaying the moment I’d taken that woman in the bar back to my hotel room, trying to undo what I’d done. Other nights, it had been the conversation with Elaine that had haunted my mind and kept me from sleep. Should I have pretended it hadn’t happened and kept it to myself? There’d always been a Guys’ Code in the league, so I doubted any of my teammates would have said a word to her. I could have kept it hidden, but it would have eaten me alive. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself. But maybe there was something else I could have done or said to convince Elaine to give me another chance. To stay with me.

The truth was, I hadn’t fought for us. I’d admitted what I’d done, and I was so upset with myself over it that when she’d said she was leaving and taking Dillon with her, it had made absolute and total sense to me. I loved her too much, and at the time I’d hated myself so much for hurting her that I didn’t think it was worth putting up a fight over.

I was wrong. She was right. And that was that.

But now she wanted us to try. To fight for what should have been, not for what was.

After tossing and turning in my bed for hours, wishing she was there with me so I could hold her—she’d always had a way of soothing me to sleep when I got like that—I knew there was only one thing I could do.

Fight with her, for us. When I dragged myself out of bed on Christmas Eve, still groggy and not nearly rested enough, that was the only thing in my mind. Before going to the hotel and bringing Elaine over that morning, I had a couple of things to take care of.

The first was a call to Mattias Bergstrom, the Storm’s head coach, to let him know I wouldn’t be joining his family for dinner after all. I supposed he’d lost the annual lottery and was stuck with babysitting me for Christmas. Granted, he probably wouldn’t have described it in quite those terms, but that was how it always felt to me when someone from the Storm organization shared their holiday and their family with me.

Once I’d backed out and apologized for the short notice, I dug through my kitchen catch-all drawer until I found what I was looking for and made a trip to the mall. Leaving the jewelry store armed with a small gift-wrapped box, I headed over to pick up Elaine.

She breezed out to my car, smiling bright enough to make me forget about all the clouds that had blown in overnight. The weather forecast was calling for snow, but I wasn’t sure I believed it. Not with how brightly Elaine shined today.

When she got in the car, she handed my suit jacket to me. Our fingers brushed in the transfer, sending a jolt of electricity between us. Her lips parted in an O, so she’d felt it, too.

I’d forgotten all about my jacket last night, since I was so flustered after kissing her for the first time in decades. She was making me feel like an awkward boy instead of a grown man in the wrong half of my fifties.

She gave me a sweet smile that had my heart racing. “You didn’t sleep last night, did you?”

I shook my head.

“Good thoughts or bad this time?”

“A bit of both.”

Once she’d tossed her small bag in the backseat and fastened her seat belt, I pulled out of the hotel parking lot.

“So… Tell me. What did you solve in your midnight ponderings?”

“Just that seeing you now, after all this time, I still love you more than I know how to handle.” When I glanced at her before turning to enter the highway, she had a soft look in her eyes. She was staring at me like she was trying to see into my mind.

“Is that the good or the bad?” she asked after a moment.

“The good.”

“Well, I guess I can breathe again, then. And I suppose I can guess the bad.”

“You think?”

“You spent hours beating yourself up and trying to figure out what you could have done differently all those years ago, so we wouldn’t have lost all this time.”

Despite my better intentions, my lips quirked up in a grin. “Maybe not hours.”

“Oh, really? So how much sleep did you get?”

I tried to pull off an apologetic shrug. “Maybe not hours,” I repeated.

“Mm-hmm.” She set her hand on my knee as I drove, stealing my ability to think. Good thing getting home was like going on autopilot. Her long fingers curled over the kneecap. “Jim?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you more than I know how to handle, too.”

That was good. That was really good.

I wasn’t one to break down in tears very often, but I felt them pricking at the backs of my eyes. “So now what?”

She stared out the window, watching the city pass by. “So now we figure out how to make this work.”

CHAPTER 6

Elaine

Getting to know each other again after all this time was proving to be an adventure.

There were some things that hadn’t changed. I was still cold all the time. Jim always did everything he could to be sure everyone around him was comfortable and smiling, having a good time. He still did better steering clear of the kitchen, whereas cooking was one of my favorite things to do.

But there were differences now, too. The whole time I was in the kitchen making our Christmas Eve dinner, he was right by my side. Not getting in my way, though. Years ago, if he’d come into the kitchen while I worked, I usually fussed at him to move because he was slowing me down. This time, he was reaching for things before I realized I needed them and handing them to me so I could keep doing what I was doing.

And we talked. The whole time I worked on our glazed ham, mashed sweet potatoes, and roasted Brussels sprouts, we got to know each other all over again. I filled him in on all the Christmas traditions Dillon and I had followed over the years. Jim wanted to know every tiny detail, right down to when we hung the stockings over the mantel and how many presents I allowed him to open on Christmas Eve.

“Your gifts for him had to wait until Christmas Day,” I said, sliding the butcher knife down the center of a sweet potato.

“Why’s that?”

“Because that was when we opened the important presents.”

A certain sadness came into his eyes when I said that.

“He didn’t think they were all that important, did he?”

“He will someday. And I wanted to be sure there was a distinction.” I tossed the sweet potatoes into the steamer and set the butcher knife down on the counter. “I never wanted to keep him from you, Jim. I always tried to be sure he had a relationship with you. That you had one with him.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?”

He chuckled and grabbed a handful of toasted nuts from the bowl at the edge of the counter, chewing a pecan before answering me. “You said he’s a lot like me?”

“So much that it broke my heart all over again every time he picked up another of your habits. It was like you were with me, even though you weren’t.”

“Well, if he’s a lot like me, then he probably tends to internalize things. Keep it all bottled up inside. And then blame whoever it’s easiest to blame.”

“You only blame yourself, though.”

“Which makes it really easy for Dillon to blame me, too. Clearly, I already agreed with him, right?” He picked out a walnut and held it out for me to eat from his hand, bringing a bit of flirtation into our conversation. “So what do you think he’s doing now, without you there?”

“He’s starting up a new set of traditions with Kelsey, I’d imagine.” The realization hit me like one of Jim’s players slamming me into the boards and brought a new sort of ache to my heart. Dillon was all grown up now. He was starting his own life. Which was what I wanted for him, of course, but at the same time, it left a piece of me hollow. Dillon was all I’d had for so many years. He was my world, and now he was making his own.

That was even more reason for me and Jim to find a way to repair the relationship as best we could. He’d been alone all this time. He’d had this same hollow ache inside his chest every Christmas, wondering what sort of things Dillon and I were doing without him.

“Were you lonely?” I asked, putting the steamer on the stove. “All those Christmases without us?”

He shrugged it off. “I was never alone. My teammates always made sure I had somewhere to go while I was playing, and since I’ve been working in the front offices, there’ve always been families inviting me along. I got to experience countless family holiday traditions over the years.”

“But they weren’t yours.”

“No. Well, I suppose they were in a sense.”

“But not the sense you wanted.”

“Not in the sense I wanted. No.”

“I’m sorry, Jim. I’m sorry I took all of that from you, and no amount of apologizing can ever make it better.”

“But you’re here now.” He smiled at me when he said it, a real smile that wiped away his earlier sadness.

“I’m here now.”

“So what do you say we start a new tradition? Since we’re giving this a real shot, I mean.”

I washed my hands and dried them on a dishtowel, pleased as punch that things were going as smoothly as they were. I honestly hadn’t been sure it was going to work out for us at first. I loved Jim with everything in me, but he was stubborn when it came to carrying the whole world on his shoulders and not wanting to share the load.

“What kind of new tradition?” I asked cautiously.

“You said that with Dillon, you always saved the important gifts for Christmas Day?”

“Yes…”

“I want the two of us to always give the most important gift on Christmas Eve.” He grinned, and his whole face lit up. “I know you might not have something—”

“I do,” I cut in. “I have something I want to give you.” I just wasn’t sure it would go the way I’d been hoping for. All of a sudden, my insides all knotted up with nerves again, like they had been when I’d first arrived in Portland.

“Yeah?” He raised his brows in question.

I bit my lip and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Come on.” He took my hand and led me into the living room. The fire in the hearth had the room lit up in a soft glow, and the first few snowflakes were starting to fall outside.

“We’re getting a white Christmas,” I murmured.

He turned to look out the window. “Well, look at that.” Then he took a seat on the sofa and tugged me down beside him, reaching for something behind one of the pillows. “This is turning out better than I could have planned it. Me first.”

When he brought his hand out, he held what appeared to be a small black jewelry box with a simple red silk bow tied around it.

I shook my head. “You didn’t have time to go jewelry shopping.”

“Just open it.”

With shaking fingers, I loosened the bow and slid the ribbon off. Nerves zinging and leaving me jumpy, I opened the lid.

A single, silver house key lay in a bed of red satin.

I jerked my head up to meet Jim’s gaze.

“A key to my house. I know—I don’t want to rush you into coming to stay if you’re not ready, and I know you’ve got a whole life in Minnesota. Dillon and Kelsey are there. But you came back into my life, and you said you wanted another chance. For us. To make this work. And I want it, too. I want it as much as I want my next breath. So whenever you’re ready, I want you to come home.”

“Home?” My eyes fluttered to hold back tears, not that it was any use. And I’d made the same rookie mistake again today. Mascara was sure to be steaking down my cheeks any moment. Damn if I didn’t want to look as good as I could for him.

He brushed a tear from my cheek with his thumb and then cupped my face in the palm of his hand. “Home. And not just for the holidays.”

I took the key out of the box and fished in my pocket for my set of keys. My hand was still shaking too much for me to get the key on the ring, so Jim took it all from my hands and finished the job for me, grinning as he pressed the set into the palm of my hand. He moved to kiss me, but I stopped him with my palm to the center of his chest.

“Not yet. I have something for you first.”

He nodded.

I returned my keys to my pocket, digging my phone out of the other one. I dialed Dillon’s number. He answered on the second ring.

“Merry Christmas, Mom,” he said, sounding happy and healthy and perfect.

“Merry Christmas to you, too. Are you having a good time with Kelsey’s family?”

“They’re great. We’re about to drive around town and look at all the Christmas lights everyone has up.”

“That sounds great.” I glanced over at Jim, noting the crease in his brow. Anxiety. He’d figured out what I was planning to give him. I reached over and took his hand, holding it firm in mine to reassure him. “Listen, Dillon, there’s something I need you to do before that.”

Jim shook his head and tried to back away, but I wouldn’t let go.

“You know I’ll do anything for you, Mom.”

“I know you will. So I want you to talk to your father.”

“I… Really?”

“Do it for me, Dillon. I love you.”

Before my son could argue with me, I passed the phone to Jim and got up to return to the kitchen. Their first conversation in a decade should be private, and I needed to check on dinner.

Twenty minutes later, Jim brought my phone to me in the kitchen. Crying. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him cry. Maybe not ever. He’d always had a heart twice the size of a normal man, but tears weren’t part of his usual repertoire.

I bit down on the inside of my cheek to keep mine at bay. “Good tears or bad tears?” I really hoped they were good, but there was something in my gut telling me bad was more likely.

He set my phone on the counter and nodded. And kept nodding, like he couldn’t get words out.

I opened my arms, and he came straight into them, wrapping me tight in a bear hug that might just rob me of my breath, but I didn’t care. He buried his face in my hair.

“Good,” he whispered against my ear. “Really good.”

I held him until his tears stopped and my ability to breathe returned. And then I heard something.

Singing.

“Carolers?” I asked as Jim backed away, drying his eyes on his sleeves.

He raised a brow and looked toward the front door. “Sure sounds like it.”

The familiar strains of “Silent Night” gradually became clearer. Whoever was caroling, they were doing it here, at Jim’s house.

He reached for my hand, and we went together to the door. He opened it, and we stepped out on the front porch to find Coach Bergstrom and his family all dressed in white gowns with red sashes. An older couple was with them, too, as well as a man and woman who had Down syndrome like Sophie. The girls had wreaths on their heads lit up with candles, and little Sophie was holding a tray filled with cookies as everyone else sang.

The snow was coming down a lot heavier now, and I shivered. Jim wrapped his arms around me from behind and held me close, warming me all around.

“Pepparkakor,” the coach explained, nodding at Sophie’s tray. “They’re gingersnap biscuits. Mom and Linnea taught the girls to make them. We’re honoring St. Lucia by bringing them to you. It’s a Swedish tradition,” he added, winking. “And caroling is something Paige and the girls do every Christmas.”

“A bit of the old and a bit of the new,” Jim said.

“That’s right.”

They finished their song, and Sophie lifted her tray toward me. “Merry Christmas, Miss Elaine.”

I took it from her. “Thank you so much. And Merry Christmas to you, too. All of you,” I added, nodding at each of them.

Sophie curled a finger for me to come closer.

I took a step out of Jim’s arms and leaned in.

“Did you use the mistletoe with Mr. Jim?” she whispered.

“I did.”

“So it worked like Miss Mia said it would?”

I laughed. “Yes. It worked.”

She nodded so hard the force blew out a couple of her wreath candles. “Good. Because Mr. Jim needs someone to love him. He shouldn’t be alone at Christmas.”

“He’s got that, sweetheart. He’s not alone anymore.” And I’d be damned if he would ever be alone again. I finally had my second chance, and I had no intention of squandering it.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Catherine Gayle is a USA Today bestselling author of contemporary hockey romance and Regency-set historical romance. She’s a transplanted Texan living in North Carolina with two extremely spoiled felines. In her spare time, she watches way too much hockey and reality TV, plans fun things to do for the Nephew Monster’s next visit, and performs experiments in the kitchen which are rarely toxic.

If you enjoyed this book and want to know when more like it will be available, be sure to sign up for Catherine’s mailing list. Joining the mailing list will also give you access to a subscribers-only Portland Storm short story called Ice Breaker!

You can find out more about Catherine on her website, her blog, at Hockey Romance, at Facebook, on Twitter, and at Goodreads. If you want to see some of her cats’ antics and possibly the occasional video update from Catherine, visit her YouTube account.

Other books by Catherine Gayle

Portland Storm series

Ice Breaker

Breakaway

On the Fly

Taking a Shot

Light the Lamp

Delay of Game

Double Major

In the Zone

Holiday Hat Trick

Comeback

Dropping Gloves

Home Ice

Mistletoe Misconduct

Losing an Edge – coming soon

Game Breaker – coming soon

Want to join in the conversation? Join the Portland Storm Reader Group on Facebook.

Tulsa Thunderbirds series

Bury the Hatchet

Smoke Signals

Ghost Dance – coming soon

Rites of Passage – coming soon

Want to join in the conversation? Join in the Tulsa Thunderbirds Reader Group on Facebook.

For a list of all her historical romances, please visit her website

HEARTS ON ICE

BY JAMI DAVENPORT

Copyright © 2015 by Cedrona Enterprises

All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this book ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Jami Davenport. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

This Ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This Ebook may not be re-sold or given away to others. If you would like to share this book with others, please purchase an additional copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

This book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Created with Vellum

FOREWORD

T  his novella is the continuation of Blake and Sarah’s story which began one year prior in Love at First Snow and was featured in Melting Ice.

CHAPTER 1

The Break

Blake Daniels heard the ominous snap before he felt it. Then the pain hit him in wave after wave of excruciating agony followed by nausea. He struggled to get up and skate away as he’d done countless times before during his long NHL career. Denial had served him well in the past, but not this time.

Instead, his body betrayed him and refused to cooperate, sending him sprawling across the ice and landing in an embarrassing heap at the feet of team captain Cooper Black. Coop stared down at him, concern written in every line of his face. Blake glanced around at his other teammates. Their expressions ranged from sympathy from the veterans to outright fear from the rookies.

It couldn’t be that bad.

He glanced down at his leg and saw the odd angle of his skate.

Oh, yeah, it was that bad.

Fuck.

He closed his eyes and allowed the medics to do their job. At thirty-five years old, he didn’t need a doctor to tell him this injury had most likely shattered his hockey career. He was looking at a long rehab and no more second chances. The moment he’d been dreading for the past few years had finally come to fruition.

Through the fog of the intense pain, only one thought raced through his mind like a hamster on a wheel.

What the hell was he going to do with the rest of his life?

SARAH WHITNEY’S guilty pleasure was watching Sockeye hockey games and, more specifically, veteran defenseman Blake Daniels. She even subscribed to the hockey channel so she wouldn’t miss a game. She recognized her obsession as pathetic considering she was the one who had broken it off with Blake.

Despite what Blake or their mutual friends might think, she’d done it for him. Hockey was his first, last, and only love. She had a thriving veterinary practice on Madrona Island, one of Washington State’s San Juan Islands. She wasn’t moving to the mainland, and he wasn’t giving up hockey. Even when he retired, he planned to work in hockey in some capacity, which wouldn’t be possible if he were living on a remote island three hours from Seattle when the traffic was good.

Breaking up with him had crushed her, but she couldn’t continue their long-distance relationship any longer. They had no future, and Sarah was a practical, logical woman. She still loved Blake and was resigned to the fact that she’d never find another man to fill the gaping void left by his absence in her life. Despite the short amount of time they’d been together, he’d burrowed deep into her heart and paid rent for a lifetime. Even if he didn’t live there anymore, she wasn’t breaking the lease.

As she tuned into the game that night, she wondered when she’d stop torturing herself by watching him play. No one needed to tell her how ridiculous and destructive her behavior was, she already knew, but such knowledge didn’t turn the TV to another channel or cancel her subscription to the NHL Network.

The Seattle Sockeyes were hanging on by a thread against the Canucks with only a few minutes left in the third period. The new hockey season brought great hope to the team for a coveted playoff spot. While way too early in the season to tell, all signs were good.

Blake streaked down the ice and cut in front of an opposing player driving to the net, effectively blocking the man’s shot. Only the guy kept coming, fully intent on plowing through Blake. The next few seconds happened in slow motion. The two men crashed into each other and slammed to the ice in a tangle of limbs, skates, and sticks. The Canuck player shot to his feet first, and Blake followed only to collapse in a writhing heap on the ice. He attempted a few more times to rise, but his left leg wouldn’t hold weight and down he went.

Play was stopped. His teammates gathered round, concerned expressions on their faces, as they blocked the cameras from showing their fallen comrade.

Sarah rose to her feet, moved closer to the TV and desperately tried to catch a glimpse of Blake, but his teammates purposely stayed in the way. She caught glimpses of his body and could tell he was rolling around on the ice in agony.

The TV flashed back to the moment of impact, showing every gory detail in slow motion. As the other player fell on him, his skate bent at an unnatural angle as if he’d broken something. Such a major injury would take him out of the game for a majority of the season and possibly end his career. At his age, he’d be hard-pressed to get back in game shape, especially with the younger guys already biting at his heels.

Sarah immediately wanted to go to him, only she couldn’t. They were broken up, thanks to her, and she hadn’t spoken to him in months. A clean break, that’s what she’d insisted on. Now she wished she hadn’t. A small, selfish part of her prayed he’d come home to her and retire from hockey. He could spend the rest of his life on this island.

Doing what?

The reality was the same now as it’d been early in the summer. He wouldn’t be coming back. There was no future on this island for him, despite her being here.

They were over, and no amount of hoping and praying would change that brutal fact.

CHAPTER 2

Taking a Break

Blake Daniels sat outside the conference room waiting for his meeting with the Sockeyes brass, certain he knew what was up. He’d been off the ice for two months, replaced by a younger, faster version of himself. He wouldn’t be coming back to the team in a playing capacity, but he suspected they’d offer him a different job.

This team took care of its own. Ethan Parker, the majority owner, wouldn’t set him adrift without giving him options, especially with Christmas less than two weeks away. Only Blake didn’t know if he’d like any of those options, nor did he want to be the team charity case because everyone felt sorry for the guy whose life and career had been marred by a string of bad-luck injuries and unprecedented personal tragedy.

For the last two months, he’d grappled with healing his broken leg, trying to stay in shape the best he could, and rushing his rehab. Only nothing was going as planned. He wasn’t healing as quickly as he’d hoped. He wore a walking cast on his leg, which allowed him to get around more easily, but he wouldn’t be skating any time soon. While he could work on upper body strength, his lower body was wasting away—or so he felt.

As much as he attempted to remain positive, these past five years his life body-slammed him to the ground every time he tried to get back up, starting with the death of his entire family in a floatplane crash on Christmas Eve five years ago.

After meeting Sarah, the love of his life, last Christmas Eve, he’d thought his life had finally turned a corner, and things were looking up. She, too, was an orphan so to speak, an only child whose parents were both dead.

Then the Sockeyes had come calling, needing a defenseman to replace an injured player. Newly cut from his last team, Blake had jumped at the chance to return to the ice for one final season. Only it hadn’t been final. The Sockeyes offered him a one-year contract at the end of last season. He’d talked it over with Sarah. She’d insisted he sign, and next thing he knew, he’d been plus a team and minus a girlfriend. Not exactly how he’d planned things to work out.

He understood Sarah’s position. They’d fallen hard and fast for each other, but circumstances didn’t bode well for their future. His future had been hockey because that’s all he knew, while hers had been dedicated to her veterinary practice on Madrona Island, a practice she’d taken over from her father. As a life-long resident and the island’s only veterinarian, she took her job seriously and was committed to the community and the animals. She would never move, while he didn’t have a life on that island. They parted amicably, admitting their relationship couldn’t possibly work out, leaving Blake with nothing except hockey. And now it appeared he didn’t have hockey.

He glanced up as Ethan peeked his head out the door and waved him inside. Blake gingerly took a seat at the conference table and smiled grimly at the people seated around it, including Ethan’s fiancé Lauren Schneider, the director of player personnel; Garret Calhoun, the general manager; Mike Gorst, the head coach; and Cooper Black, the team captain.

They smiled back at him as if everything was wonderful when Blake knew it wasn’t even close.

Ethan sat back, letting Garrett do the talking while Ethan observed Blake’s reactions.

“Blake, what are your plans?” Garrett asked.

“I—uh—” Fuck if he knew. He wanted to play, as unrealistic as that particular want might be. “I’m working hard to rehab, but I’ve had some setbacks.”

“Have you considered hanging up the skates and taking on a support role such as coaching?”

Blake shook his head. The team was putting him out to pasture as gently as possible, but nothing could be gentle about the demise of his career, even though common sense practically screamed in his ears that he was old for a defenseman. They’d already replaced him and never missed a beat.

His career was over. Blake wasn’t going back on the ice as an NHL skater. The sooner he pounded the cold hard facts into his thick skull, the better.

“Blake,” Coach Gorst said gently for him. “Your playing days are over, but the team sees great value in your knowledge of hockey, the patience you’ve shown with the younger guys, and your work ethic.”

Ethan jumped in. “We want you to be part of the Sockeye family for years to come. Coaching is perfect for your skill set.”

“I hadn’t thought about coaching,” Blake admitted, knowing he’d been in denial too long.

“We don’t expect a decision right away,” Lauren added. “In fact, we’re willing to work with your timeframe. If you’d like to start tomorrow, we’re good with that. If you want to wait a few months, that’s good, too.”

Damn, they were bending over backward for him, and Blake felt ungrateful. Their coaching suggestion didn’t appeal to him. He wanted to play hockey, despite how improbable that particular want might be.

Without Sarah, hockey was all he had, and a life without both looked pretty bleak. He’d most likely take the Sockeyes up on their offer eventually. What better option did he have? He needed time and space to absorb the reality of his situation.

They all looked at him expectantly, waiting for his answer. “I appreciate your offers. I need time to mull this over, and I’ll be in touch.”

“Take all the time you need,” said Ethan, while Lauren and the others nodded. He hated the sympathy in their eyes, even if it was well-intended.

Blake nodded and stood, ready to get this meeting over with. The group stood as well, and he shook their hands and hurried out the door to the parking lot. A fine sheet of rain was falling. The grey Seattle skies reflected his mood. As he opened his SUV door, a shadow crossed over him. He spun around as best he could in the cast.

“Oh, fuck, it’s just you.”

His buddy, Isaac “Ice” Wolfe, stepped from behind a car.

“What the hell are you doing lurking in the bushes like a stalker? Keep that up and someone will blow your brains out.”

Isaac chuckled, not the least concerned by Blake’s response. “How’d it go in there?” he asked.

“Like expected. They’re hanging up my skates.”

Isaac nodded, acknowledging the death of Blake’s career with a wry smile. “Sorry about that, buddy.”

“Not as sorry as I am.”

“What’re you going to do?”

“They asked me to coach and issued an open invitation to decide when the time feels right.”

“I see. This couldn’t have come as a surprise so you must’ve given it some thought.”

“Yeah, but I’m no closer to making a decision than I was a year ago when my career was dead the first time around.” Blake stared at his cast, as if it were personally to blame for his current woes.

“You have to give them credit. They take care of their own.”

“Yeah.” Now if Blake could only figure out how to take care of himself. “I’m going off the grid for a week or so, figure out what to next.”

Isaac nodded. “I wanted to invite you to join the family for Christmas.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll be on the island, chilling and getting my head on straight.”

“The offer stands if you change your mind.”

“I know, I appreciate that.”

Isaac’s ice blue eyes cut through the bullshit, and Blake was pretty damn sure his friend saw him for the mess he was. With a grim nod, Isaac reached out and shocked Blake with a bro hug.

“Take care of yourself.” Shaking his hand, Isaac left Blake alone in the parking lot with nothing but his broken dreams and an uncertain future, both of which were piss-poor company.

CHAPTER 3

On Ice

Sarah locked the clinic door for the night, stepping outside into a fine mist. Cyrus, her St. Bernard cross, followed her to Jeep. She opened the back hatch, and he jumped in, tail wagging, and more than ready to go home. Only they weren’t going home. They were going to a Christmas party at the home of Sarah’s good friends, Mandy and Brody Jenson. They owned and operated a beautiful bed and breakfast on Fiddler’s Cove, which they’d officially opened for business a few months ago.

This was their first Christmas party together at the B&B, and as much as Sarah would like to go home and cuddle up with a good book, she didn’t dare miss it. Mandy would be horribly disappointed, Janna, her office manager and good friend, would fret, and several other friends would most likely form a posse and track her down. No, not worth the hassle. She’d make an appearance and leave early.

By Saturday night, Sarah was usually too exhausted to do anything but go home. This Saturday night was no exception. Many of the part-time residents came to the island for the holidays, and she swore if they had a pet, she’d seen that pet in her clinic. Not that she was complaining about her booming business, but it did play hell with her social life—such as it was.

She drove the short distance down the winding country road that hugged the edge of the island. Sarah forced herself to stare straight ahead when she passed the driveway to Blake’s vacation home. She didn’t want to see if lights were visible through the trees. Most likely he was in Seattle doing what he could to return to the game he loved.

Janna met her and Cyrus at the door with a warm hug. “You came? I was so afraid you’d chicken out.”

“I wanted to,” Sarah admitted. Cyrus slipped past her into the house he’d been in many times before to most likely lay down in front of the blazing fire.

When something akin to guilt flashed in Janna’s eyes, she studied her closely. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Janna answered with a suspiciously innocent smile.

“Something is going on. What are you keeping from me?” Sarah leaned to peer past her friend into the warm, welcoming parlor but didn’t see anyone out of the ordinary. For a split second she’d feared Blake might be there. He wasn’t, and she deflated, as if she wished he were there. Of course he wasn’t. Even if he was on the island, why would he be here of all places?

Before Janna could respond, Mandy appeared, handing Sara a hot-buttered rum and guiding her into the living area where the party was already going full swing. The last time Sarah had a hot-buttered rum had been last Christmas Eve with Blake. A mixture of relief and sadness filtered through her, but she pasted a fake smile on her face and entered the joyous room. Mandy’s friends and family were gathered in large and small groups, laughing and talking. A table in the corner held an impressive spread of delectable dishes. Christmas music played in the background, and a huge tree laden with ornaments claimed one corner of the large room.

The earlier mist had given way to a starry night. Outside, several other guests crowded around a large fire pit blazing as merrily as the fireplace inside the house.

Sarah took a seat on the couch between a few of the guests, long-time island residents she knew quite well.

“Blake Daniels is on the island,” said Eva, the island psychic, as she cast a pointed glance in Sarah’s direction.

“He is?” Sarah knew her face must have gone pale. Her mouth certainly went dry, and her stomach did a great imitation of an unbalanced high-wire walker.

Mandy shot a guilty look in Sarah’s direction and a chastising one in Eva’s, but the exotic woman didn’t bat an eye.

“You didn’t invite him, did you?” Sarah glanced first at Mandy then at Janna fidgeting near the doorway. Mandy looked to Janna with a shrug. “Janna?”

Janna smiled apologetically. “I might’ve run into him at the grocery store earlier today and extended an invitation. I’m sure he won’t show. He didn’t sound interested. I just hate the idea of him being alone during the holidays.” When Janna got nervous she talked a hundred miles an hour, just as she was doing now.

“It was a mercy invitation,” she added.

Sarah smiled, trying to process Blake being on the island. “It’s okay. I don’t care if he shows up or not. We parted friends. What we had last winter was just a holiday fling,” Sarah lied, not fooling anyone. They were her friends. They’d seen the aftermath of the break up and helped her pick up the pieces and move on. Their pitying looks were enough to make Sarah run for the nearest door, but party-goers blocked all the exits. She wouldn’t be able to sneak out unnoticed. She’d bide her time and disappear as soon as the opening presented itself.

In the meantime, she sipped her drink and faked interest in whatever conversation buzzed around her, not that she had a clue because her mind was a million miles away—actually a lot closer. More like a few miles down the road.

With Blake.

A WILD-ASSED hair had found its way up Blake’s butt and convinced him to go out on a Saturday night to a Christmas party hosted by people he barely knew. The closer he drove to the party, the more reluctant he was, yet he kept driving rather than turning around, drawn by some invisible thread that insisted he be there tonight instead of at home licking his considerable wounds.

He knew why he was going against his better judgement. Janna had mentioned Sarah was invited. So, yeah, he wanted to see her again. He couldn’t help it, even if doing so wasn’t a good idea or fair to either of them given the career decisions they’d made.

Blake pulled down the long driveway. Cars were parked on either side of the road, so he parked behind the last one and got out. He limped to the B&B, both relieved and sad Sarah’s pickup wasn’t in the driveway or B&B parking area.

He’d arrived on the island yesterday, and already everything reminded him of Sarah. He guessed that was progress because before her everything on this island reminded him of the family he’d lost and all the good memories they’d made on this island since his childhood.

Grabbing the lasagna he’d concocted from one of his mother’s many recipes, he steeled himself for all the smells, sights, and sounds of Christmas and hobbled up the steps to the front door. He knocked, but judging by the noise inside, no one could possibly hear him. Setting the hot dish down on a bench, he pushed open the door, ready to face the revelers and attempt to have a reasonably good time.

Before he could retrieve his dish, she barreled into him. He caught glimpse of brown hair in a ponytail before the escapee ran into his chest head first. She was glancing over her shoulder as if the devil himself was on her heels.

“Hey, slow down,” he said as he steadied himself and her, glad she hadn’t knocked him down. His heart knew it was Sarah before his head did.

She stared up at him, her beautiful face registering shock. “Blake?” She blinked several times as if she didn’t trust her eyesight.

“Sarah,” he responded, keeping his voice deadpan even as his entire body welcomed her.

“Oh, no, I didn’t hurt you, did I?” She grasped his arms, her fingers curling around his biceps.

“I’m okay.” He shook his head. She hadn’t hurt him physically even though he felt inside as if she had.

“But, your leg—” Her gazed dropped to his walking cast.

“Nah, I’m fine. Where were you going in such a hurry? Is the party that much of a bust that you’re running like hell to escape?”

“I, uh, no, I,” she seemed at a loss for words.

“Good, then, let’s go inside.” He waited for her to remove her hands off his arms. She didn’t. The woman had a damn-good grip. Suddenly realizing she’d been hanging onto him, she threw her hands up in the air and backed away, as if he were armed and dangerous. Her confusion amused him. Obviously, his appearance affected her as much as hers did him. He picked up the casserole, grateful his hands didn’t shake. Cyrus sat in the doorway watching them. He wagged his tail at Blake, and with a heavy sigh retreated back inside.

As if on cue, Eva appeared out of nowhere, smiling her serene smile. “There you are, Sarah. Mandy is looking for you. Blake, so good to see you.”

Sarah escaped, and Blake followed Eva, feeling somewhat smug and self-satisfied. He’d thwarted Sarah’s escape, and he’d savor every moment in her presence, bad idea or not.

Eva cocked her head. Her slow, knowing smile didn’t irritate him as much as it usually did. As long as she was on his side—whatever his side was—he’d tolerate her weirdness.

“Put your dish on the counter,” Eva spoke in her usual mysterious voice and turned to eye him up and down. “Your destiny is here. That’s what your family would’ve wanted.”

Blake stopped in his tracks, feeling a cold chill thread its way down his spine. He couldn’t come up with a response to her proclamation. He skirted past her and into the welcome sanctuary of the crowded living room, keeping one eye warily on Eva and the other eagerly on Sarah. Currently, she was engaged in deep conversation with a group near the fireplace and glanced nervously at him every few minutes. He liked her attention on him—a lot—because his attention sure as hell focused on her.

“I’m glad you came,” Janna said, sliding up next to him and handing him a hot buttered rum. “And so is she.” With a jerk of her head, she indicated Sarah, as if he couldn’t figure that one out.

Blake nodded, at a loss for a response.

“She misses you.” Janna said as the party’s host, Brody, joined them. Janna excused herself, leaving the two men alone.

“Hey, man, tough luck about the leg. When do you think you’ll be back on the ice?” Brody had moved to the island about a year ago, coached high school football, and did remodels. He’d met Mandy’s husband in the military years ago and come to the island to settle a debt after the man had died saving his life. Not only had he settled that debt, but he’d settled on the island with Mandy.

Blake swallowed hard. “I’m retiring.” Saying the words out loud for the first time made it real.

“Is that a good thing?” Brody asked in his usual blunt manner.

“Good or bad, doesn’t matter. It’s time.”

Brody grinned. “I know that story. Hard to admit we’re mortal, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, damn hard.”

Brody glanced in Sarah’s direction and back to Blake. “You staying on the island?”

“I don’t know what I’d do here. It’s not like there’s a hockey rink or anything remotely related to skating.”

“Then do something else.”

If only it were that simple. Blake shrugged, totally at a loss as to what that something else would be.

A cheer rose from the group of men gathered around the TV.

Brody glanced in the direction of the noise. “I’m missing the game. It’s a good one.”

Blake followed Brody into the living room and hung out with the guys as they watched a college game on the TV. At least it wasn’t hockey. He didn’t think he could handle dealing with hockey and Sarah on the same night.

Yet, he had every intention of dealing with Sarah. He wasn’t sure why because they’d hashed out their relationship ad nauseam and kept arriving at the same conclusion. Wasn’t that the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over again, while expecting a different outcome?

Maybe he was insane, and the loss of hockey combined with his insanity had driven him here. He’d be all kinds of fool to pretend he hadn’t come because of Sarah.

He left the guys to watch their game and wandered about the B&B, pausing to talk to guests while looking for Sarah. He found her outside, sitting with a large group huddled around a blazing fire pit. There was an empty seat next to her, and Blake took advantage of it.

“Hey,” he said simply, sipping his now-cold, hot-buttered rum and pretending their not-so-chance meeting was casual and relaxed.

Sarah scooted her chair closer to the fire as if she were cold, not merely trying to get her ass away from him. He almost smirked and scooted his chair closer to the fire, forcing them into tighter quarters. Their knees bumped, and her head shot up.

Her gaze latched onto his.

Fuck.

Nothing had changed, staring into her eyes made time stand still, reduced all his problems to dust until the only thing that mattered was being wrapped in the warmth of her gaze. And it was warm, heated in fact, sizzling hot, just like they’d been in their brief, whirlwind romance and every time they’d hooked up since their magical Christmas Eve one year ago. Only they hadn’t just hooked up. Blake had fallen irrevocably and undeniably in love with the woman who’d saved the kitten he’d found shivering in a snow bank. She’d saved him too, given him hope, made him realize life could be worth living again despite all his losses.

For a brief while, he’d had it all—the love of a good woman, a resurrected hockey career, and great friends—until it’d come tumbling down around him like a precarious stack of children’s blocks because neither of them had been willing to find a compromise.

Regardless, she was here, and he saw the yearning in her eyes, certain his own reflected the same. He forgot the others sitting around them. Only Sarah existed and only Sarah mattered.

But did she matter enough? Would he limp away from hockey, living out the rest of his years in obscurity on this beautiful island? There could be worse fates—far, far worse—such as a life without Sarah. But what about life without hockey? He’d had skates on his feet and a stick in his hand as soon as he could walk. How did a guy turn his back on such a huge part of his life?

Sarah blinked at him and ran her fingers over his stubbled jaw. He held his breath, savoring her touch. “Are you okay?” she asked quietly, concern darkening her brown eyes.

He wanted to tell her no, he hadn’t been okay since she’d broken off their relationship, but he caught her quick look at his cast.

Oh, yeah, that.

“I’ve had worse injuries,” he answered nonchalantly, managing to conceal the turmoil raging inside him.

She frowned, almost as if disappointed by his answer. “So you’ll be heading back to the team soon?”

Blake studied her closely, trying to decipher her true meaning without reading too much into her words. “Not in a playing capacity,” he admitted for the second time in one night.

“You’re not going back on the ice?” She patted his arm as if she cared, causing a huge lump to lodge itself in his throat. “But you love hockey.”

Blake cleared his throat and willed his voice to remain steady. “I’m thirty-five, it’s time to retire. I had a good run.”

“What will you do?”

Did he detect hope in her voice? “The Sockeyes have offered me a coaching job.”

“Oh.” Her face fell, and he wished he could make her smile instead, only he couldn’t and wouldn’t lie to her.

“I don’t know what I want so I came here to get my head on straight and consider my options.”

“It was nice talking to you.” Sarah nodded and stood abruptly, ending their conversation as if she’d heard enough.

Before Blake could explain further, she skirted around the group and disappeared into the house. He rested his elbows on his thighs and propped his head in his hands, staring into the flickering fire. Eva was right about one thing. His parents would approve of Sarah, but Sarah had taken her stance. As long as hockey was his life, they had no future. He understood her desire to have as normal a life as possible.

Waiting for him to come home after a long road trip only to leave again a few days later wasn’t the way she wanted to live. It’d be difficult even if they lived in the same city as the team, but Sarah didn’t. Every option open to him required he reside a majority of the time in Seattle. No matter how he spun it, he couldn’t see a future for them no matter how badly they wanted it.

She’d slipped away, and he’d let her go once again.

CHAPTER 4

Slapshot

T  he following Monday evening, Sarah had just finished with her last furry patient when Janna peeked her head in the door.

“You have a last-minute patient.”

Sarah sighed and put her lab coat back on. She should’ve known she’d never get out of the office on time. “Okay, bring him in.”

Janna grinned at her. “It’s Mr. Tall, Dark, and Hockey.” She ducked out the door before Sarah could respond or throw something at her. A few seconds later Blake stood sheepishly in the doorway holding a cat in his big hands.

She forced her gaze away from his blue-gray one and concentrated on the handsome feline. “He’s grown.”

“Yeah, hard to believe he’s over a year old,” Blake answered almost proudly as he sat the cat on the examining table and gently restrained him.

“What brings you here?” Sarah pretended to be all business despite how hard her pulse raced, her heart pounded, and her hands shook.

“Just routine stuff. I never seem to have time for it back in Seattle, but I have lots of time on my hands now. He needs his shots, an exam. I’m not keeping you from anything?”

“No, not at all.” Sarah went to work, trying to maintain distant professionalism, but when her hand brushed his, her feelings were anything but professional. She performed the necessary tasks with efficient precision, finishing in record time. She had to get this man out of her clinic before she did something stupid like beg him to take her any way he pleased with his cat and her dog as an audience. Or even worse, Janna.

Speaking of the devil, Janna poked her head in the door. “I’m heading out. I’ll lock up.”

Sarah nodded. “We’re done here. I’ll be right behind you.”

Janna raised a brow and smirked. “Sure, you will be. Good night, Blake. That lasagna you brought to the party was epic. I’ve never tasted anything like it. When you finish your NHL career, you should open a restaurant.”

Blake blanched and paled at the innocent reminder his career was over. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“There’s a nice little waterfront café for sale right now. It’d be a great place for someone who doesn’t want to have a big restaurant and just wants a dozen or so tables. Perfect for you since you wouldn’t necessarily need to turn a huge profit.” Janna wouldn’t give it up, and Sarah wanted to strangle her well-meaning friend. Blake swallowed and concentrated on his cat as if nothing was wrong. Yet Sarah knew everything was wrong. In fact, she suspected he was a hot mess.

“That’s nice,” he remarked casually, yet his voice was strained.

“Janna, I’ll see you tomorrow. We’re fine here.”

Janna raised a brow and grinned, completely misinterpreting why Sarah wanted her gone. “Oh, I’m sure you two are fine.”

Sarah shot her a murderous glare, which didn’t affect her friend and employee one bit. At least she took the not-so-subtle hint and left.

Blake glanced at Sarah with such profound sadness in his eyes, she wanted to wrap him in her arms and never let him go, but the man didn’t need a rescuer. He needed to figure out his priorities after hockey and decide what to do with the rest of his life. Most likely without Sarah in it.

She picked up Blake’s cat, Nick, and gave him a hug, feeling proud of the part she’d played in his rescue. When Blake brought the poor thing into the clinic on Christmas Eve last year, the kitten had been near death, frozen, and starving. Together they’d nursed him back to health and formed a bond not easily broken. Even though she’d ended their relationship months ago, she still couldn’t completely sever that bond. By the wistful expression on Blake’s face, neither could he.

“I’m done here. Since no one is left in the office, I’ll send you the bill.”

“That’d be fine.” Blake picked up Nick and put him in the crate he’d left near the clinic door, which brought about a round of pitiful wailing from the poor animal. “He doesn’t like to be confined.”

“None of them do. Nice seeing you again. Merry Christmas.” Sarah dismissed him and strode into her office. She removed her lab coat and hung it up, grabbing her purse and keys. When she walked into the waiting room, Blake stood there with an apologetic smile on his face and holding the cat crate in one hand. Lying on his dog bed in the corner of the waiting room, Cyrus thumped his tail but didn’t move. He didn’t believe in expending excess energy and always waited until she signaled she was actually leaving.

“Is there a problem?” Part of her wanted there to be a problem—anything to keep him around a little longer. Dangerous thinking, but there it was.

“I, uh, I wanted to know if I could take you to dinner. If you don’t have plans, that is.” He’d given her an easy out.

She opened her mouth to make up a lame excuse, but instead the words poured from her heart instead of her head. “I’d like that. I’m starved. Why don’t you leave Nick here with Cyrus? We’ll come back for them when we’re done.”

His smile lit up his face, and his eyes regained their sparkle. “Great. You pick the place.”

“There’s not much to choose from in the off season. How about the Island Pub?” She suggested the bar where most of the locals hung out and the least intimate eating establishment on the island, so he wouldn’t get the wrong idea.

“Best burgers in town.” He waited for her to lock the clinic door.

“Let’s walk. It’s only a couple blocks.” Sarah turned to find him close behind her. She made the mistake of looking into his blue-gray eyes. She felt herself falling under their spell as his gaze pulled her deeper. For a moment, she thought he might kiss her. Her lips parted, sending him a silent invitation without her conscious permission. He touched her cheek with the rough pads of his fingers. Her breath hitched, and her entire body poised for more. A car honked on the street next to the clinic and snapped her out of her trance. She shook her head and slipped away from him.

Kissing him would send her back to square one when it came to getting over him.

She didn’t dare go there.

Not now and not in the next one hundred years.

BLAKE COULD NOT BELIEVE Sarah had accepted his dinner invitation. He’d prepared himself for a bullshit excuse. Then they’d almost kissed. If it hadn’t been for old Mr. Sanders choosing that moment to drive by and lay on the horn, they would’ve. He didn’t know whether to curse the man or thank him.

Sarah walked briskly, and he hobbled to keep pace. She entered the pub ahead of him, almost as if she regretted her rash decision to have dinner with him and wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. Choosing a table in the middle of the large room, rather than one of the more intimate booths lining the walls, Sarah took a seat.

He didn’t really know why he’d invited her to dinner any more than he understood why she accepted. Hadn’t he reminded himself a few days ago they had no future? Yet, his damn SUV pretty much drove itself to the clinic today. Yeah, and it put the cat in the crate and loaded him up, too.

Blake was a pathetic mess, and he needed someone. That someone happened to be Sarah. Only using her because he was needy didn’t set well with him. He’d only leave her again and break both their hearts.

Being alone was tough because all his buddies had women in their lives who were permanent fixtures. Blake’s own parents had been the best example a person could have of a good relationship. If he couldn’t have what they had, he didn’t want anything. But healthy relationships required sacrifices on both sides. If Blake wanted Sarah in his life, he’d have to sacrifice hockey. So far he couldn’t fathom his life without hockey any more than he could imagine her leaving her vet practice and moving to the mainland.

He’d examined their situation upside down and inside out until he wanted to shout in frustration. Regardless of how he spun it, he kept coming to the same conclusion. He loved her. When two people really loved each other, shouldn’t they be able to overcome any obstacle blocking their future together? Love wasn’t easy, but it was worth it, as witnessed by his parents’ relationship. Yet here he was, thirty-five and alone with very little to show for his years except a shitload of money which meant very little to him, and no one upon whom to lavish his good fortune.

He fucking hated being alone.

With a sigh, Blake ended his pity party and took a seat at the table across from Sarah. The bar was pretty quiet, only a handful of people scattered at tables and a few others playing a game of pool near the back.

“Hey, Sarah,” said a big, bald bartender as he placed a glass of red wine in front of her without even asking what she wanted.

“Thanks, Phil.” Sarah smiled up at him, while Blake watched intently. Her smile wasn’t the smile of a lover—former or current—so he let out a relieved sigh.

The man turned to Blake. A friendly smile crossed his face. “What’ll you have?”

“A dark beer on tap.”

“You got it.” He placed a couple dilapidated menus in front of them and wandered off, stopping on his way to talk to another group of locals.

“Come here a lot?” Blake asked.

“Enough. Phil is an island staple. I’ve known him all my life. He was good friends with my father.” At the mention of her father who’d died a few years ago, her lower lip quivered, and Blake longed to comfort her. She wouldn’t want his comfort, and he’d be unwise to give it. He was confused enough when it came to his feelings for her. He suspected she felt the same.

It struck Blake that Phil most likely knew Sarah better than he did. Phil had probably known her longer and spent more time with her. Perhaps he’d known her mother before she’d succumbed to cancer. Hell, Phil might’ve known Blake’s family, though they hadn’t been much for frequenting bars when they’d been vacationing on the island.

Suddenly he realized Sarah was speaking to him. “Sorry, I missed that.”

She smiled sympathetically at him. “I drift off a lot this time of year myself.” She reached out to pat his hand. He couldn’t resist, he caught her hand in his and held it. She didn’t pull away. Her deep brown eyes met his, holding his gaze.

He didn’t want to fight the feelings anymore. He was tired of fighting his feelings, his injury, and his career. Why couldn’t things be simple for once and go his way?

Because nothing worth having is easy. If everything fell in your lap, you wouldn’t see the value in it. His father’s words of wisdom floated back to him as if he were in the room with his easy-going smile, puffing on a good cigar. A pang of loneliness clenched his gut. Sarah took his other hand in hers and squeezed it. “Are you okay?”

He shrugged, not in the mood to lie. He’d been lying to his coaches, his trainers, hell, to himself. He didn’t want to lie to Sarah. “Just wondering where my life goes from here and wishing I could find a way to make sure you’re in it.”

“Blake,” she said with a sad sigh.

Phil chose that moment to return with their drinks and to take their orders. He pointedly stared at their linked hands. They ordered burgers, and he once again left them alone.

“Can’t we find a way, Sarah? We’re smart, industrious people.”

“I’m not cutout for a long-distance relationship. We tried for six months. I hated it. Let’s not rehash all this. It does no good. I know what I want. I want a family, a man to share my life, one who’ll be there waiting when I come home from a difficult late night or vice versa. I don’t want a man who’s gone over half the time and unreachable.”

“But I’m retiring,” Blake pointed out.

“To do what? More hockey? Coaches work as hard and travel as much as the players. You’d be required to live in Seattle year round. I can’t bear the thought of leaving this island. It’s the only home I’ve ever known, and the only one I want to know. We’ve both made our choices. Why make this any worse than it needs to be?”

Blake shrugged as she released his hands and took a sip of wine. Blake took a long pull on his beer, his head grinding through the possibilities while knowing she’d never agree to any of them. She was right. Coaching was brutal.

Being without Sarah would make it even more so.

CHAPTER 5

Offsides

Blake and Sarah didn’t head straight back to the clinic after dinner. She seemed to want to linger along the waterfront. He gladly agreed, not wanting the night to end. They’d set aside revisiting their relationship and had a lovely dinner, enjoyed each other’s company, and laughed more than he’d laughed in a long time.

Sarah hesitated in front of the cute, little bistro with a for lease sign in the window.

“Is this the place Janna mentioned?” Blake asked.

“Yes.”

“My mom and I used to joke about opening a little café together on this island.” The words tumbled out, as that long-forgotten memory squeezed at his heart.

“You did?” Sarah’s quick glance betrayed her surprise.

“Yeah, Mom loved to cook.”

“But with you? Her big, brawny, hockey-playing son?”

“Yeah, actually,” he admitted.

“You are a good cook.”

“I make comfort food, not that fancy shit most of the restaurants on this island serve.” Blake didn’t care much for food he couldn’t pronounce or identify.

“Exactly the type of place we need. Most of the locals would prefer it rather than more places catering to tourists.”

He grinned at her. “Are you trying to talk me into staying?” He kept his tone light and teasing, but deep down he was dead serious as a seed of hope took place, a seed too wild and crazy to process. He pushed it aside for now.

She ducked her head, but not before he caught her face turning red. He couldn’t stop smiling as he pressed his face to the window and looked inside.

“Everything’s here. All the tables, chairs, looks like the kitchen is intact from what I can see.”

“And the view is incredible,” she added helpfully.

“That it is.” Blake turned to study her, pretty damn sure her reasons for walking by this little café were more than casual. Not that it mattered. He was going back to Seattle to coach hockey, his first and only true love, wasn’t he?

But he loved to cook, and he loved Sarah—no doubt about that. Her absence in his life had made his heart grow fonder, and he longed for her. These past few days had been a combo of torture and heaven. He loved being in her presence, hearing her voice hitch with the quick breath she took when he looked into her eyes, inhaling the scent of her peach shampoo, and feeling her warm hand enveloped in his.

She met his gaze and licked her lips. Oh, God, he couldn’t resist those soft pink lips. Just could not. He lowered his head and cupped the back of her neck with one hand, pulling her closer. She didn’t resist. Instead, she met him halfway and ran her hands up his arms. Their lips touched, and Blake’s future plans exploded in front of his very eyes. All he could see was Sarah, this island, and a huge passel of kids to replace the families they’d both lost. As he deepened the kiss, any further thoughts were sucked into nearby Chinook Channel and whisked away.

Their tongues tangled. Blake’s breathing grew harsh. His need for her overwhelmed him, leaving him needy and scared shitless. They kissed until he swore they’d both have bruised lips.

Sarah drew back first, gripping his shoulders, as if using him for a crutch in order to stay on her feet. “Blake,” she whispered, his name like a song on her lips.

“Sarah,” he croaked, fighting for the words to make things right between them. Yet, mere words wouldn’t be enough, and Blake wasn’t prepared to give up hockey, even for Sarah. Even worse, he wasn’t prepared to give up Sarah. He wanted that fucking cake, and he wanted to eat it too.

Only life never worked like that, at least not for him.

She buried her head in his chest and clung to him, and he clung right back. Finally she lifted her head and searched his eyes as if they held the answers, but he didn’t have any answers, just too many questions of his own.

“I don’t know what to do about you,” she said.

He managed a half smile. “Same here. Come home with me tonight.” He hated the pleading tone in his voice, but what the hell?

“I’d love to.” She surprised him by not hesitating.

“You would?”

Sarah stroked his cheek and laughed. “Yes.”

“Well then, what are we waiting for? Let’s get the kids and hit the road.” He grabbed her hand and together they walked to the clinic and loaded their animals. Sarah followed him to his beautiful waterfront home—the very home he’d inherited from his parents five Christmas Eves ago when his family never made it to the island for Christmas.

Being with Sarah in this house dissolved the haunting memories and replaced them with warmth and hope. For now, he’d hang onto the good feelings and worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.

SARAH PULLED behind Blake’s truck in the driveway and got out, opening the door for Cyrus, who immediately went about his business watering bushes. Blake stood next to her, ignoring the protesting cat in the crate he held.

“Nick isn’t happy.”

“Not one damn bit,” Blake laughed and cast a sexy smile her direction. They waited impatiently for Cy to finish and entered the house. Blake released Nick from the crate. With a flick of his tail and a withering look over his shoulder, Nick, glad to be around his buddy again, curled next to Cy near the hearth, even though Blake hadn’t built a fire.

“Would you like a nightcap?” Blake asked, playing the polite host, even though she’d bet her booty he’d much prefer to have her horizontal and naked in the next five minutes.

Sarah shook her head. Considering she needed to be at the clinic by eight-thirty AM, she had no intention of wasting one more minute. Instead she turned to the stairs and gave him an exaggerated come hither jerk of her head, crooking her index finger at him. He laughed and hobbled after her. Sarah broke into a run, and Blake was no match for her with his leg in a cast. She stopped at the landing and waited as he struggled up the stairs. By the time he’d reached the top, he was panting, while she’d stripped off all her clothes.

“Sarah, you’re killing me.” His eyes shone with desire and a need much deeper than lust.

“You’re wrong, I plan on making you live all night long.”

He grinned from ear to ear, tossing his T-shirt over the bannister as he finally reached the landing. Together they entered the bedroom and closed the door so the animals couldn’t intrude.

She turned to him, more than ready to get this party started. After some creative positioning to accommodate his cast, they made wild and crazy love to each other. Sated and spent, they lay in each other’s arms in comfortable silence, each lost in his or her own thoughts.

It wasn’t long before Blake nuzzled the top of her head. His erection pressed against her leg. She smiled against his bare shoulder, knowing he was ready for the next round and so was she. This time they made slow, sweet love to each other.

Lying next to him and hearing his steady breathing, Sarah’s head spun as she sought to find a way to work things out between them. Blake was her forever love. She knew it the moment she first laid eyes on this rugged man gently holding a tiny kitten in his large hands. He’d stolen her heart last Christmas Eve, and tonight she’d stopped kidding herself. She’d never get her heart back from him. Not that she wanted to retrieve it.

She wanted Blake forever. She loved him, and when you loved someone, there had to be a way to make it work. She’d seen a flicker of interest in his eyes when she’d shown him the small café. She’d hoped against hope he might be content to run a restaurant on the island. They could decorate it with a hockey theme, come up with a clever name, and with his money, he wouldn’t have to open it more than a few days a week, maybe a little more during tourist season.

They needed to find a way for the man to satisfy his hockey craving. She lived on an island requiring an hour’s ferry trip to the mainland and two driving hours to Seattle or an hour in a floatplane. Blake probably wasn’t too wild about commuting via floatplane considering what happened to his family, and she didn’t blame him one bit.

Being with him again in body and soul obliterated her resolve regarding a long-distance relationship. They had to find a way to make this work. To do so would require compromises from both of them. Maybe she had options, such as bringing in a partner so she could spend a portion of her time on the mainland.

She didn’t know how far either would go for the other, but she was willing to try because not to try would be the biggest regret of her life.

CHAPTER 6

Driving to the Net

Blake bustled around his kitchen, incredibly energized considering the three hours of sleep he’d gotten the night before. The reason for his sleepless night lay upstairs, and he glanced at his watch, wanting to give her as much time as possible to sleep while allowing for breakfast and arriving at the clinic on time.

Last night had changed everything just as his first night with Sarah on Christmas Eve had one year ago. This time he didn’t know how he could leave her again. This realization had him rethinking every truth he’d held dear about his goals, his future, and his needs. Up until last night, he’d considered hockey his number one need, now she’d turned his entire life upside down and had him questioning his steadfast commitment to all-things hockey.

He could have a fulfilling future without hockey, couldn’t he? Would Sarah be enough to keep him satisfied for the rest of his life? He thought so.

Blake stood in his kitchen and stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows in the great room at the dark, swirling waters of Chinook Channel. He loved this place. Yet did he love the island and Sarah enough to be content and happy here? He also loved the game, the swish of his skates on the ice, the adrenaline rush of a shot hitting the net, hearing the crowd cheer after a hard-won game. That part of his life was gone regardless of whether he stayed on the island or returned to Seattle to coach. He’d never play NHL hockey again. He was mourning the death of a career. He wasn’t sure he had the strength to mourn the death of his relationship with Sarah for a second time.

Memories flooded back from this past summer of him leaning against the ferry railing as it pulled away from the dock. Sarah stood on shore with tears streaming down her face. Leaving her broke his heart and hers, but she’d insisted on the breakup, believing it was for the best. His life had been in Seattle, hers on the island. Now he wondered if he should’ve fought a little harder, explored options he’d been reluctant to explore, and reexamined his priorities.

His injury and the subsequent loss of his career had devastated him, but walking away from Sarah had destroyed him. Now he’d been given a second chance, and he’d be damned if he’d blow it this time.

He heard Sarah on the stairs. His heart quickened its pace in anticipation, a smile spread across his face, and warmth permeated through his body.

She smiled as she crossed the room, dressed for the clinic in the set of work clothes she’d left at his house back when they’d still been together. Cyrus padded after her, wagging his tail, and hoping for a handout. Nick opened one eye from his spot on a dining room chair and went back to sleep after yawning.

“Good morning,” Blake said, and it really was a good morning.

“Good morning to you, too.” She smiled one of those radiant smiles that gave him hope and cast sunshine in every dark corner. They kissed long, passionate, and deep. He almost forgot about the hollandaise sauce bubbling in the pan until he heard the timer go off.

Reluctantly, he extricated himself from her embrace and stirred the sauce, which was now thick and creamy. He turned off the burner.

“What are you cooking? It smells heavenly.” She peeked into the pan.

“Eggs Benedict.”

“Oh, one of my favorites.”

“I know.”

“And no one makes Hollandaise sauce like you do.” She winked at him.

He grinned at her as he prepared their breakfast and placed two plates on the table. They sat down and ate in comfortable silence, reminding him of the many happy times he’d sat at this very table over the years with his parents and siblings. How he’d love to fill this house with children again so their laughter bounced off the walls and transformed this empty place into a cozy home.

Many times over the past five years, he’d wanted to sell. The memories were just too overwhelmingly painful. Yet, when Sarah was here, he didn’t dwell on the past tragedies, but instead he focused on the happy times and making even better ones.

He finished the last of his breakfast and placed his fork on the plate. She, too, finished and wiped her mouth with a napkin.

“When are you going back to Seattle?” Sarah asked, her tone casual, even though he knew the question wasn’t the least bit casual.

“I have no set deadline.”

“Last night was—wonderful.”

He nodded slowly, reaching for her hand. “I don’t want to sleep alone, Sarah. One night together isn’t enough, and I don’t think I can handle another breakup.”

“Where do we go from here?”

He squeezed her hand tightly. “I love you, honey. We can’t give up on us so easily this time.”

“I love you, too, Blake. So much it physically hurt to be separated all these months. How do we fix this?”

He shook his head. “Hell if I know, but I’ll think of something.”

“I can’t ask you to give up hockey any more than you’d ask me to leave this island and my practice. Coaching is more than a full-time job.”

“Coaching isn’t my only option.”

“But isn’t coaching what you really want to do?”

He shrugged. “Not necessarily. I’d like to stay involved in hockey, even if on the periphery, but the more I think about it, the more I wonder if coaching is the direction I want to go. They work longer hours than anyone involved with the team. After all these years of dedicating my every waking minute to hockey, maybe I want more than hockey in my life.”

She glanced at her watch. She had to go. “We’ll come up with a solution together.”

“Yes, together we will.”

He leaned across the table and kissed her.

Long after Sarah left for the clinic, Blake sat at the table and stared out at the water. His parents had filled this house with love. They would want him to do the same. They’d set a great example of what a relationship should be like, and he’d avoided the pain of thinking about them and his family for too long. When he was with Sarah, the sharp pain of loss dulled to an ache and the emptiness inside drained out of him, filling him with hope.

The time had come for Blake to move on with his life.

Grabbing some boxes from the garage, he carried them upstairs to the room his parents had always occupied and began to clean out the closet. Since he’d spent very little time in the island house over the past five years, he’d never gotten around to it before. Now seemed like as good a time as any.

After putting the clothes in the boxes, he moved to the nightstand. Pulling open the top drawer, he removed a Bible he remembered his mother reading from on Christmas Eve and smiled. He reverently placed it on the keeper pile. Underneath the Bible was one sealed card with his name on it in his mother’s handwriting. His mother had been quite an artist and often made her own cards. A wave of shock vibrated through him. His hands trembled, and he blinked several times.

The week before their fatal Christmas Eve plane crash, his parents had come to the island house to decorate. She must have made this card that weekend. He dug through the drawer for the cards for his siblings but found none, which was damned odd and very disconcerting.

He read through the tears now blurring his eyes.

My dearest Blake, our children are our greatest pleasure. Our greatest reward has been seeing you grow into the man you are today. I love you dearly, and Christmas is a time for remembering the good times and making more memories.

If I only had one wish, it would be for you to experience the same love Dad and I have had for each other and our children. There is nothing more precious in this world.

This is my gift to you. Love deeply, love often, and love with all your heart, no matter the risk, but love is worth it.

Blake put down the card, covered his face with his hands, and wept like a baby. Inside he was a hot mess of emotions. Nick crawled onto his lap and purred. As he held the cat, he purged his pain with soul-deep sobs. As his tears dried up, a serenity he rarely felt unless he was with Sarah wrapped him in a comforting blanket of hope.

Before he could overthink his decision, he picked up the phone and dialed a cell number he’d never used.

“Ethan?”

“Yes?” said the Sockeyes president and majority owner.

“This is Blake Daniels.”

“Blake, how are you?”

“I’m sorry to bother you on your personal number.”

“Not a bother at all. Have you given my offer consideration?”

“Yeah, I can’t do it. I’m staying on the island.” Instead of the words filling him with dread and regret, they freed him, making him feel light as air.

Ethan didn’t respond for a moment. “I understand. It’s a woman, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s a woman, and I love her.”

“You’re making the right decision, Blake. The team has other opportunities you might be interested in, which won’t require a full-time commitment and will allow you to keep one toe in hockey. You interested?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good, we’ll talk after Christmas.”

“Great, looking forward to it. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you, too.”

Blake ended the call. He had a lot of work to do before Christmas Eve on Thursday. He’d better get started.

THE CLINIC WAS SLAMMED all day on Christmas Eve and didn’t slow down once. Despite how busy she was, Sarah kept reminding her brain to engage in something other than reliving the last few nights with Blake. They hadn’t discussed his future or theirs since that night they’d had dinner, and she didn’t push it. They had time to work things out, hopefully a lifetime.

She dragged her mind back to real time since her furry patients deserved her complete attention, and she gave it to them, but Blake garnered all her attention between patients. Her staff darted quick looks at each other as if wondering why she walked around with a perpetual smile on her face.

After the last patient left, Janna locked the door and stalked toward Sarah, who blinked innocently at her.

“Okay, spill.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Sarah glanced at her watch. Blake would be picking her up at home in an hour for the Deckers’ annual Christmas party. She needed to grab a shower and change.

“You’ve been walking around the last few days in a goofy fog, completely not your businesslike self. You even laughed when that spoiled rotten little shit of Mrs. Martin’s nipped at your sleeve and piddled on your lab coat.”

“All in a day’s work for a veterinarian.” Sarah couldn’t stop smiling or glancing at her watch.

“Meeting someone?” Janna narrowed her eyes and studied her friend.

“I don’t want to be late to the Deckers’ party,” Sarah hedged.

“You’ve been getting laid, haven’t you?” Janna covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, my God. It’s true. You did. Let me guess, tall, dark, handsome, and puckilious, right?”

Sarah continued to smile. “Perhaps.”

Janna shook her head. “I knew it. You two might as well admit defeat and figure out how to make this work.”

“We’re trying. I’m wracking my brain. He’s been offered a coaching job which would require he be in Seattle pretty much twenty-four-seven, and I have my practice here, but I’m wondering if I could find another veterinarian to take some of the load off me.”

“I bet you could. We’re certainly busy enough. There are other hockey-related things Blake could do, too, that won’t require that time commitment.”

“Like what?”

“A consultant. Don’t hockey teams hire consultants? Or maybe an announcer for home games only? Or maybe he could be a part-time broadcaster? I don’t know, but I bet the team would work with him.”

Sarah nodded. Janna was right. She’d been stuck thinking he would coach, but could some other position with the team satisfy his hockey fix and give them time together; or if he wanted to coach, she could come to the island when he was road trips and go to Seattle when he was home.

“Later, Janna.” Pulling on her coat, Sarah headed for the door with Cyrus hot on her heels.

“See you and your hunk at the party.”

“You bet.”

Sarah walked on air to her SUV, certain they could utilize a little Christmas magic. It was Christmas Eve after all, and the entire town was lit up with colorful lights, bloated Santas, and an assortment of reindeer. A dewy haze settled over the bay, giving the entire area a surreal feeling, as if she were in some fantasy world. Sarah had every intention of finding a way to make her fantasy come true. She realized having him part-time was better than not having him at all. These months apart proved that. They could work this out. In fact, after the first of the year, she’d start looking for a partner.

Her stubborn refusal to participate in a long-distance relationship now seemed ridiculous. It wouldn’t be easy, and if he was on the island the majority of the time, she could deal. Sarah felt better than she’d felt in a long time.

Together they could do this.

CHAPTER 7

Top Shelf

Blake spent Christmas Eve day planning his future. When you loved someone enough, you made sacrifices to be together. He would be his Christmas gift to Sarah, though that wasn’t all he had planned. He chuckled to himself as he imagined a big red bow tied around his dick.

He finished his chores, dressed in a nice pair of jeans, a blue button-down shirt, and shrugged into his leather jacket. The weather was typical for this time of year with no snow in the forecast. With the exception of last year, he knew that was par for the course. In all the years he’d been spending Christmas on the island, he could only remember a rare time or two with snow, including last year. The chances of it snowing this year were zero to slim.

Blake drove the few miles to Sarah’s house. She was waiting outside for him, bundled in a red coat with a sprig of holly decorating the collar. He grinned at the festive sight of her. She hopped in before he barely had a chance to bring the truck to a full stop.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey yourself.”

“You look great.” He grinned appreciatively, feeling pretty pleased with himself.

“So do you.” She leaned in for a kiss and he gladly obliged.

“Are you okay with being fashionably late?”

“Absolutely. What did you have in mind?” She shot him one of her sultry looks.

“Oh, baby, that’s tempting, but not exactly what I had planned.” He pulled down her driveway and drove to a small park on a point overlooking the channel and neighboring islands. Taking her hand, he led her along a path until they’d reached the end of the point. His leg hurt like hell from the uneven terrain, but he didn’t give a shit. He had more important things to consider than his healing broken leg.

Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he took a moment to punch play on his Christmas playlist and shoved the phone back in his pocket. He turned to Sarah, taking both her hands in his, while Bing Crosby crooned I’ll be Home for Christmas.

“Nice ambiance,” she teased.

He winked at her. “I talked to Ethan about the coaching job.”

Sarah sobered, her smile wiped from her face. She swallowed and appeared to be holding her breath. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him thanks, but no thanks.” He managed in a steady voice.

He could tell she was struggling not to appear too happy. “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. I signed a lease on the café today, and Ethan and I will talk after Christmas about other hockey opportunities that don’t require as much of my time.”

“I’ve been making plans to find a partner so I can spend more time on the mainland.”

One corner of his mouth tipped up in a smile. “I think you should go through with them, you might need more time off regardless—so we can raise a family.”

Her radiant smile shone brighter than the Christmas lights flickering off the water from the houses scattered along the shoreline.

Blake grasped her hands tightly. “I can’t kneel, or I would.”

“Blake,” Sarah gasped and a lone tear ran down her face.

“I’m not much for poetry so I’m going to keep this simple and short. I love you, Sarah. Will you marry me?”

She didn’t react at first and he almost had a heart attack until she started to grin. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

He put a big-assed diamond on her finger, and they hugged, kissing each other while the world paused around them. Finally they drew back and gazed into each other’s eyes.

“I love you, Blake Daniels, and I always will.”

“Merry Christmas, honey.”

“Merry Christmas. Look, it’s starting to snow.” She pointed toward the trees where they could barely see the tiny flakes falling, while White Christmas played on his phone.

Through the light sprinkling of snow, Blake noticed a single bright star in the inky sky. Back when he was a kid and after his beloved grandfather died, Blake’s father insisted the star was special. Blake could still hear his words: You’ll never be alone. That star is Gramps watching over us and making sure we have a guiding light when it’s our turn to come home.

Blake had come home. With Sarah as his life partner, he’d spin memories and weave stories for the next generation of Daniels children. The families they’d lost would live on through those stories, never to be forgotten.

And so would the love at the heart of Christmas.

~ THE END ~

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

If you'd like to be notified of new releases, special sales, and contests, subscribe here: http://eepurl.com/LpfaL

USA Today Bestselling Author Jami Davenport writes sexy contemporary and sports romances, including her two new indie endeavors: the Game On in Seattle Series and the Madrona Island Series. Jami's new releases consistently rank in the top fifty on the sports romance and sports genre lists on Amazon, and she has hit the Amazon top hundred authors list in both contemporary romance and genre fiction multiple times.

Jami lives on a small farm near Puget Sound with her Green Beret-turned-plumber husband, a Newfoundland cross with a tennis ball fetish, a prince disguised as an orange tabby cat, and an opinionated Hanoverian mare.

Jami works in IT for her day job and is a former high school business teacher. She's a lifetime Seahawks and Mariners fan, misses her Super Sonics, and is waiting for the day professional hockey comes to Seattle. An avid boater, Jami has spent countless hours in the San Juan Islands, a common setting in her books. In her opinion, it's the most beautiful place on earth.

Website: http://www.jamidavenport.com

Events Blog: http://jamidavenport.blogspot.com

Romancing the Jock Blog: http://www.romancingthejock.com

Twitter Address: @jamidavenport

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/jamidavenport

Facebook Fan Page: http://www.facebook.com/jamidavenportauthor

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/jamidavenport/

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1637218.Jami_Davenport

COMPLETE BOOKLIST

The following Jami Davenport titles are available in digital and some are available as trade paperbacks.

Madrona Island Series

Madrona Sunset

Evergreen Dynasty Series

Save the Last Dance

Who’s Been Sleeping in My Bed?

The Gift Horse

Game On in Seattle

Skating on Thin Ice (Seattle Sockeyes Hockey)

Crashing the Boards (Seattle Sockeyes Hockey)

Crashing the Net (Seattle Sockeyes Hockey)

Love at First Snow (Seattle Sockeyes Hockey)

Melting Ice (Seattle Sockeyes Hockey)

Blindsided (Seattle Steelheads Football)

Hearts on Ice (Part of 12 Christmas Romances to Melt Your Heart anthology)

Bodychecking (Seattle Sockeyes Hockey)—February 2016

For the Win (Seattle Steelheads Football)—Summer 2016

Daring to Win (Carly Phillips Kindle World) Summer 2016

Seattle Lumberjacks Football Series

Fourth and Goal

Forward Passes

Down by Contact

Backfield in Motion

Time of Possession

Roughing the Passer

Standalone Books

Christmas Break

ROMANCE. AVALANCHE. LOVE.

BY RILEY J. FORD

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or person, whether living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2015 Riley J. Ford

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author.

Created with Vellum

CHAPTER 1

“We need to celebrate our three-month anniversary,” Shaun said, gazing at Selma with those green eyes that always made her melt.

“I would love that,” she said. She ran her hand over his bare chest and snuggled in closer. They were lying naked together after another bout of hot lovemaking. They were so good together, and Selma still couldn’t believe that she’d met him during a California earthquake when she almost lost her life. Every day together since then had been magical.

Granted, they didn’t get to spend as much time together as she would have liked, because his job as a firefighter kept him away a lot. Plus, she had recently gotten a promotion at work and was expected to stay late hours. Still, she and Shaun spent as much time together as they could, every chance they got.

“What would you like to do to celebrate?” Shaun asked. “I want to do something special every three months and then something big at the year mark.”

“I love how romantic you are,” she said. “I don’t know anyone else who celebrates three-month anniversaries.”

“They don’t have what we have,” he said, stroking her cheek and staring into her eyes with expression that sent her heart fluttering. Everything about him enticed her, intrigued her, and sent her into overdrive. Even though they had just had sex, she felt her body craving him again…and based on his arousal pressing against her thigh, he was feeling it, too.

He leaned in and kissed her: a slow, sensual meeting of the lips that caused a rush of tingles to flood her body.

“You haven’t answered my question,” he murmured between kisses.

“I don’t remember the question,” she said, reaching up to stroke his firm back. He had a way of distracting her from even her own thoughts.

“Where do you want to go for our three-month anniversary?”

“We’re going away?”

“I thought we could celebrate both Christmas and our anniversary, since they’re so close together. How about a romantic getaway somewhere?” He kissed her jaw and then her neck.

“Sounds good,” she said.

“Any ideas?”

“How about skiing? That might be romantic.”

“Great idea. Nothing sounds better than being holed up in cozy cabin together.”

“And skiing, too,” she said with a smile.

“Oh yeah, that, too. We could also ski.” His lips quirked up.

She laughed. He kissed her in a way that stole her breath, and soon her giggles were replaced with sighs…and then moans.

THE SKI CABIN in Mammoth was better than Selma had expected. It was right on the slopes with a view of the mountains and ski lifts. There was an in-room Jacuzzi and a stone fireplace. But the best part was the bed. It was a tall four-poster bed with a soft down comforter, loads of pillows, and a beckoning softness to the mattress that made Selma and Shaun never want to leave. So they didn’t. At least for the first day of their arrival.

Their lovemaking was as good as it ever was…until he got up to check his phone like he’d been doing more of lately. The thing that bothered her the most was that he usually became distant from her when he did that. He would put his phone down with a preoccupied look on his face, and then she wouldn’t feel him fully with her after that, even during lovemaking. It niggled her…felt like a red flag.

Before that, the six-hour drive had been wonderful. It had gone quickly because they’d spent their time talking, joking, and laughing. Selma couldn’t imagine time passing that quickly with anyone else but him.

She’d never spent Christmas Eve away from her family before, but they’d understood and had agreed to celebrate when she got back from her ski vacation. They liked Shaun and were happy for Selma.

Her sister had even asked when they were getting married, which had thrown Selma for a loop.

She could see myself marrying Shaun one day, but not until they been together longer. Yes, she’d fallen in love with him the first night they’d met, but she was also a pragmatic person and knew it was important to fully know a person before taking such a big leap.

Shaun often asked her if she would love him always, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to answer that question yet, choosing to defer it instead. In her heart, she knew she could love him forever, but she didn’t have the courage to let him know yet. Not until she had some of her questions answered.

Her heart had been broken too many times in the past. She needed to make sure that would never happen again before she gave herself fully to Shaun.

There were things she felt she didn’t fully know about him. Unanswered questions. Things that niggled her. Such as the phone.

For instance, he was always hyper-protective of his phone. It was password-protected, and he never let her look at any of his messages as he scrolled through them, turning the phone away from her. Sometimes he would get a call and leave the room. Other times, he would hide his texting from her.

She wondered if he was cheating on her, although she had no direct proof. While she had doubts, she also wanted to trust him. Part of her felt like she already did. Maybe she was being foolish, but she knew in her heart that he really loved her. But the phone thing bothered her, and she vowed to ask him about it during this vacation. She hoped she would get an answer that would satisfy her and put all her fears to rest.

After several bouts of intense, passionate lovemaking, they both got some sleep and rose in the morning to get ready for a day of skiing. They bundled up in their ski clothes, retrieved their skis, boots, and poles from the rental office, and then were on their way.

It was a beautiful California day in Mammoth, even though it was December. In California, there were often seasonal days where the temperature was a balmy sixty degrees even in winter. This was one of those days. Selma even found herself sweating as she stood in line for the ski lift.

“Want to work our way up to the top?” Shaun asked, studying the ski trail map.

“Sure,” she replied. They were both good skiers and had agreed to ski both intermediate and advanced slopes all day.

“I do want to go off trail once or twice,” Shaun said. “I love the rush.”

“Count me out.” Selma shivered at the thought. Just last week she’d read about a man running into a tree while skiing out of bounds. He’d suffered a severe head injury. That didn’t sound worth it to her…but she knew Shaun liked extreme skiing at times.

They inched forward on their skis, following the line of fellow skiers waiting for the lift.

“Skiing off trail is fun,” Shaun said, his green eyes twinkling in his tanned face. “C’mon, you might like it.”

“And trigger an avalanche? No thanks. I’ve heard that can happen when skiing out of bounds.”

He guffawed. “You read too many tabloid reports. Avalanches don’t happen very often, and you really have to be kamikaze skiing to trigger one.”

“If you say so,” she said. Her need to control her fate had been a running joke between them since they’d started their drive to Mammoth. She’d checked the traffic report constantly to make sure there weren’t any big-rig accidents, mapped out the best route, and had even asked if she could drive one point because Shaun tended to go about twenty miles over the speed limit and pass people on the left over the double line.

Even though he was in a lifesaving profession, he loved speed and made no apologies for it.

For all of Selma’s carefree, fun-loving attitude, it was mostly a veneer that hid her fears and insecurities. There was a part of her that always felt like the other shoe was going to drop at some point. So she did her best to try to control the things that she knew she could, all with a smile and a joke.

Shaun was the opposite. He truly was cavalier in some ways, always believing that things would work out. She loved that quality in him, wondering what it would feel like to never have doubts.

That was one thing Shaun didn’t seem to have.

They skied up to the chairlift and got on. Soon they were being whisked high above the snow-white mountains dotted with tall pine trees.

Shaun pulled her close, his strong arms wrapping around her. She snuggled in, breathing in his scent. She loved being in his company, loved having him hold her. Every moment with him was a dream, a feeling of heightened ecstasy. The intoxicating effect of being in his presence caused her to dismiss her worries, even her common sense. It had been that way from the beginning, when they’d first gotten to know each other under a table in a restaurant that had crashed down around them during an earthquake. Shaun had told her things about himself…confessed his own insecurities. She hadn’t seen much of that vulnerability since, but it didn’t stop her from remembering the man she’d first fallen in love with. Even if he seemed more guarded now in some ways.

She always pushed away her doubts when she was with him. She knew he would eventually reveal himself to her in time. The love she had for him carried her through. It filled her like a song she couldn’t forget. Every morning, he was the first thing on her mind and the last thing in her thoughts before she drifted off to sleep. She wished she and Shaun could awaken together every morning, but she was grateful for the time they did have together with both of their complicated work schedules.

When they were together, everything else faded away. It was just the two of them in their own private world.

Selma snuggled close to him on the ski lift, imagining the beating of his heart through his thick ski jacket…a sound she loved whenever she laid her head on his chest after lovemaking.

Snow drifted softly around them. There was a poetic silence between them in this moment. A silence punctuated by the faint whirring of the ski lift overhead and the distant shouts of skiers below. The winter wonderland around them lent a magical feeling to the moment.

He bent down and lightly kissed her on her lips. It was a soft joining of their mouths, both cold from the crisp mountain air. As they kissed, their lips became warm together. It was a moment that felt suspended in time. It was just the two of them, high above the mountains with tenderness and affection and love swirling around them as softly as the snow flurries that fell gently from the sky.

It was then that Selma knew.

Knew without a doubt.

Shaun was everything she’d ever wanted. She couldn’t imagine life without him. She knew in her heart that she’d found her man: the man she wanted to be with always.

The thought gripped her chest with a momentary flash of panic, but then it subsided.

This was Shaun. The man she knew and loved.

Why not let herself completely go with him?

Love was a gift, and she couldn’t turn away from it any longer.

She was going to let him know. The next time he asked if she would love him always, she would say yes.

“Yes, I love you, Shaun…always.”

This would be a big step in their relationship. Granted, she’d told him how much she loved him every day, but whenever he asked, “Always?” she’d always skirted the issue. Looking into his green eyes always made her feel so vulnerable…but in a good way. She hadn’t been ready to tell him how much she saw him in her future until now.

But now she was ready. She was ready to tell Shaun that she would always be his.

That he was her one and only.

CHAPTER 2

T  he snow flurries turned into stronger gusts. A sudden blast of bitter wind rushed through Selma, and she shivered. Shaun pulled her closer and rubbed her arms. Their breath came out in puffs of fog. Gusts of snow blasted around them, shaking the trees below.

“Wow, the weather has changed,” she said.

“Looks like a storm is coming in,” he said. He stroked a piece of hair out of her eyes with his gloved hand. She looked up at him, and their eyes locked.

Tingles flooded her at his expression. The look in his pale green eyes was so intense and filled with so much love that she had to look away. He was so incredibly handsome. Her heart always skipped a beat whenever he looked at her. She couldn’t believe he was hers sometimes, even though she knew she was a hot number herself. But a man this good-looking, with his tanned face, green eyes, athletic body, and confident way of carrying himself: well, he was the kind of man that every woman wanted.

One of the things that Selma loved best about him was that despite his extraordinary good looks, Shaun only seemed to have eyes for her.

Whenever they were out together, women would stare at him with blatant expressions that said if he even so much as glanced in their direction, they would drop their panties right there.

But Shaun never looked in their direction. He was either oblivious to the female attention, or he truly only had eyes for Selma.

“What are you thinking?” Shaun asked, breaking into her thoughts.

She smiled. “The usual.”

“What’s that?”

“How much I love you.”

“Always?”

There it was again, his standard question.

She looked up and met his eyes. There was a moment of silence, a moment of anticipation between them before she spoke.

“Always.” It was the first time she’d ever said that to him. It was her first acknowledgment that she did want him forever.

And she did.

She was ready.

Ready to let him know, ready for the next step in their relationship.

And what better time to do it on Christmas Eve? On their three-month anniversary? Here on a ski lift high above the beautiful snowy mountains? The moment truly did feel right.

He looked at her for a long moment, unblinking. Then he leaned in and kissed her again gently.

“I want you always too,” he murmured against her lips. “I love you.” Then he pulled back to look at her. “Will you promise to always love me no matter what happens or what challenges might cross our path?”

Something about his tone gave her pause. There was a heaviness in the conversation that hadn’t been there a moment before.

“Of course,” she said. “Why do you ask that?”

He was quiet for a moment, and then cleared his throat. “There’s something I haven’t told you. Something you need to know.”

Selma’s heart slid into a slow descent. Those were words no women ever wanted to hear.

The perfect moment didn’t feel so perfect anymore.

All of those doubts she’d pushed away suddenly came rushing back.

She braced herself. She had just given herself to him completely, and now he was going to pull the rug out from under. She felt it with every cell in her body.

“What is it?” she asked, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice.

“You’ve probably noticed I’ve been distracted lately.”

She took a deep breath. “Yes. But I figured it was probably work or something.” She paused and bit her lip. “You seem to check your phone a lot, and hide it from me. What’s that about?”

“It has to do with what I need to tell you.” Shaun reached out and took her hand. “I want you to know that the matter what, it doesn’t change the way I feel about you.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“I wanted to tell you so many times during these months together. But I could never bring myself to. I was afraid I was going to lose you if you knew. But I can’t let another day pass without telling you the truth.”

She swallowed hard, her mouth dry. “What is it?” My God, what could it be? Please don’t let it be a terminal illness or something.

She clasped her gloved hands together tightly, trying to control their trembling. She was sitting on her ski poles to keep them anchored and hands free, but now suddenly wished she had something to hold on to.

Another blast of bitter wind rushed through her, sending snow flurries into her face. She shivered again, her teeth chattering.

Shaun’s arm tightened around her shoulder. “Selma, I love you. Please know that.”

The ski lift was approaching the disembark station. A feeling of desperation welled up in her. She needed to know what he had to say before they exited, before they got off the lift. She didn’t know why, except that it felt urgent.

“Tell me,” she said.

His jaw clenched. He stared at her with a strange expression. The sky was gray behind him. Streaks of black clouds filled the sky, matching the dark look in his eyes.

Her heart dropped further. “What is it? Is it that bad?”

Their chair was fast approaching the end.

He pressed his lips together and looked away. “Selma, please forgive me.”

“What. Is. It?” Her voice came out in a hoarse whisper. “Please.”

He looked back and held her gaze with a look that made her heart stop.

“I’m married.”

CHAPTER 3

Before Selma could reply to the bomb Shaun had just dropped in her lap, their chair came to the end of the destination. They disembarked, skiing off the lift together in one fast whoosh.

Selma’s legs were unsteady, and she almost fell. He reached out to steady her, but she pulled away. At that moment, she’d never felt more disconnected to him.

They skied over to an area off to the side, beneath a tall pine tree. Skiers passed them on all sides, racing off down the mountain. Up above, chairlifts passed slowly overhead, carrying brightly clad people to their destinations farther up the mountain.

Selma looked at Shaun, swallowing hard against stinging tears that she refused to let flow. She couldn’t let him see her cry. Not here. Not now. Besides the shock and horror, the tears belied how angry she felt, a rage that was starting to boil up in her like a witch’s brew.

“I’m sorry,” he said, raising his gloved hands helplessly at her.

She stared at him, her teeth clenched to keep them from chattering. “You’re married? Please tell me I heard that wrong.”

“No…you didn’t hear it wrong.”

She bit her lip and looked away, unseeing. She swallowed hard against the hard knot in her throat. “How could you not tell me this before?” The minute she said the words, her stomach gave a violent heave. Nausea hit her throat like a sucker punch to her esophagus. “Oh my god. You’re married.”

Before he could reply, she turned and retched into the snow.

Shaun rushed to her side and rubbed her back. She pushed his hand away and whirled to face him.

“How could you?” She was crying openly now, hot tears running down her cheeks and instantly turning ice cold from the biting wind.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” he said. His face twisted in concern. But to her at that moment, he looked like a monster wearing a mask. A lying, deceiving monster.

“Selma, please,” he said at her expression. “It’s not how it seems.”

“Oh, really? You mean it’s something different than you lied to me, led me on, made me believe you loved me, all the while being married? Unavailable? Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I do love you. Please don’t doubt that.”

She gave a bitter laugh. “I doubt everything.”

“Please hear me out. Let me explain.”

“No.” She shook her head slowly side to side. “I don’t want to hear more lies. I don’t want to hear any more. I’ve heard enough.” She stopped. “Wait, do you have kids?”

He stared at her with a long, stricken look that gave her the answer.

A low moan came from her throat. “You bastard,” she whispered. Her voice was tight with an anguish she couldn’t hide. “How could you?”

It was storming now, with long, hard blasts of snow swirling around and over them. The sky was dark with the impending storm, and the trees stood like white-capped, stern monoliths around them.

Violent shakes consumed Selma’s body. They had nothing to do with the cold.

“I’m sorry,” he said, reaching out to her. “Please. If you just heard what I had to--”

She batted his hand away. “No! There’s nothing to say. You’re married and you lied to me! I spent all these months falling more in love with you every day. And all along, you weren’t mine! And never would be.” She bit her trembling lip and closed her eyes for a moment, feeling dizzy. This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.

When she opened her eyes, he was staring at her with an expression she’d never seen before. It looked like a cross between raw anguish and something else. Something she couldn’t place. Then she realized what it was. It was the expression in a hunted animal’s eyes, right before they’re shot. She’d seen that look too many times as a kid growing up in a family of deer hunters. And she’d never been able to forget it.

But why did he feel hunted, the bastard? She was the victim here, the prey. Not him!

“I’ve got to go,” she said. “I’ve got to get out of here.” She slid forward on her skis, but stumbled and nearly fell.

He reached out to steady her, but she hit his hand away. “Get away from me. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

“Selma, please. Don’t do this.”

“Oh, I’m doing it.” She skied forward, then stopped. She turned back and met his eyes. Her heart felt like dead, cold steel…a heavy weight in her chest. Dead weight, adding to the resolute feeling simmered in her. “Let me hear it one more time, just so it sinks in fully and so I never doubt breaking up with you. You’re married, right?”

He nodded.

“And you have a child?”

“Children.”

“More than one?”

“Yes.”

“How could you?”

He didn’t answer.

“How could you?” she repeated, screaming now.

He still didn’t answer.

“You were never mine.”

He didn’t answer.

Her stomach twisted into a sickening thud. “It’s over.” She turned and skied off down the hill, tears streaming down her face.

“Selma! Wait!” she heard him call behind her.

She ignored him.

She raced down the hill at breakneck speed. Her legs felt like rubber, jiggling beneath her as she skied. Wind and sleet hit her square in the face, stinging like hundreds of needles. She didn’t care, and in fact, the pain felt good, as if the outer physical pain could help alleviate the emotional pain.

But it didn’t.

She skied faster, bouncing over moguls and sliding around bends. She was out of control, sobbing uncontrollably as she flew down the mountain, her eyes blurry with tears.

She hoped she could make it down the mountain without falling. She was a good skier, but nothing could have prepared her for what had just happened.

She’d never seen that coming. Yes, Shaun had seemed to have some secret he was hiding, if she were to be fully honest with herself. She’d chosen to look the other way, wanting to give him the space to reveal himself when he was ready. She’d put aside her doubts and fears and chose to trust in him despite a few niggles.

But she had never been prepared for this.

Not this.

A cheating, lying bastard pretending to love her. Pretending she was his one and only when all along he had a wife and children.

Oh my God.

Fresh sobs erupted from her throat.

Lies. All of it. Shaun had never been hers at all.

Sobs burbled from her chest as she skied down the mountain. She didn’t care that other skiers glanced at her as she passed, or that she probably looked like a crazy woman with tears streaming down her face.

She half expected Shaun to catch up to her, but she was skiing recklessly right now, not caring how fast she went. He wouldn’t be able to catch her. Olympians had nothing on her right now. Trees rushed by in a blur. She remembered the skier with the head injury, but pushed the thought away. If she crashed into a tree right now, she almost wouldn’t care. The pain was so acute.

“Selma!” she heard again.

Then…a scream.

More than one. Multiple screams.

People on the mountain were screaming.

Fear gripped her heart like a vise.

She skidded to a stop, sending a long burst of snow flying in front of her. She planted her ski poles and turned back, looking up the hill.

Then she saw Shaun.

He was skiing down the mountain in his red jacket. But he wasn’t on the main run. He’d gone off trail and was weaving through the trees on a side run, his knees bent as he bounced over snow-covered bumps and rocks. Soft billows of snow rose up behind him.

She didn’t know why people were screaming. So what if he skied out of bounds? It wasn’t illegal.

Even if he’d skied past posted signs, it didn’t warrant all this commotion.

And then she saw it.

Behind Shaun, through the trees.

A pile of snow rushing down the mountain like a white monster.

A giant wall of powder, rushing up behind Shaun.

A great, silent, white tidal wave that sent bursts of powder in all direction as it hit trees and burst through the open space like a nightmare.

More screams surrounded her as people raced by on all sides, trying to outrun the danger.

An avalanche.

Shaun had triggered an avalanche!

CHAPTER 4

A s Shaun skied toward Selma, everything seemed to turn into slow motion. It was as if she was immersed in a bad dream, the kind of alternate reality that one awakens from in a cold sweat. Except this was real.

Horrifyingly, truly, undeniably real.

Shaun was racing toward her with a gigantic tidal wave of snow bearing down on him.

She tried to scream but couldn’t.

“Ski!” he shouted at her as he dodged around trees. “Go!”

He was trying to save her. Even as he was trying to outrun it himself.

She turned and began skiing down the hill as fast as she could. But then something made her stop. She skidded to a stop, her heart thudding in her chest.

She turned and looked back up the mountain, only to see the wall of snow overtake Shaun.

And then it buried him, sending his form into white obscurity.

She screamed long and hoarse. Someone grabbed her and threw her to the side.

The avalanche of snow rushed by, passing her in a silent whoosh.

Selma watched as the avalanche came to a stop right beneath the base of the mountain.

“Fuck, that was close,” said the man who’d pulled her out of the way, a man dressed in ski patrol clothes who was pulling himself up off the ground beside her. “If people just realized they can sidestep these smaller ones--”

“My boyfriend,” she gasped. She pointed with a shaking finger. “He was buried.”

“No shit?” The guy jumped up.

“Yes. Save him! Please!” She began screaming, unable to stop herself. She clambered onto her feet, determined to get up the mountain to Shaun. She was determined to dig him out herself if she had to. But her legs, weighed down by the skis, weren’t working properly.

The ski patrol guy was on his walkie-talkie, radioing someone. She heard snippets: “Buried. Casualty. On east side of mountain beneath chair lift five.”

Casualty? Does that mean he’s dead?

A burst of panic gripped her tightly. She let out a loud sob. “I need to get him.” She tried to scramble through the snow, dragging her skis behind her. Everything felt so slow, so bogged down. She must be in shock. Then she looked down and realized one of her skis had come unclipped from its binding.

Up the hill at the spot where Shaun had been, people were there now, all frantically digging to unbury him.

A piece of information flitted across her brain, a bit of trivia she hadn’t known she’d filed away: most avalanche victims only survive fifteen minutes under the snow before they perish.

There was still time to get him out.

Determination filled her like a balloon.

She reached down and unclipped her other ski from its binding. Then she began clambering up the icy hill toward Shaun.

As she struggled up the hill, Selma slipped and fell multiple times. But still she kept going. With every step that she took, she sobbed his name over and over again.

He couldn’t be dead.

He had to be alive.

She had to see him again, hold him again, kiss him, have him hold her…

It can’t end this way.

“Shaun,” she cried.

I love you. Shaun, I love you.

She loved him. It was true.

That was all that mattered.

She suddenly didn’t care about anything but the love. All she knew was that she wanted him alive. She couldn’t live without him.

Shaun.

I need you.

She couldn’t imagine a world without him in it.

She couldn’t imagine never seeing him again…not having his green eyes look at her in a way that gave her chills.

Not having him make love to her and stroke her hair and ask her if she would love him always.

Always.

I’ll love you always.

Please don’t leave me.

How can we have always if you’re gone?

Sobbing, she pushed herself up that hill. Long trickles of sweat ran down her back.

Ski patrol raced up. A guy with a beard told her to go back down the hill, since the area was still dangerous.

She ignored him.

She reached where Shaun was and dug her hands into the cold, wet snow and began digging. The other responders next to her were eerily quiet as they scooped handfuls of snow as fast as they could. The only sound was their breathing.

Selma dug frantically, digging her fingers into the mound of snow with an electric desperation that fueled her. She was sobbing and digging and calling his name with the kind of urgency that came from loving another human being so desperately that one would do anything to turn back time…to undo what was already done.

But it couldn’t be done. This couldn’t be the way the story ended.

Another ski patrol officer approached and told Selma to leave. She turned on him with such shouts and sobs and screams that his expression said it was best to let this crazy person be, even if she was effing killed by another avalanche herself.

She dug and dug, pulling wads of snow back and out with all her might. She was like a dog digging for a bone that meant its very survival. Her actions were frenzied, filled with a desperation that drove her on with what felt like superhuman strength.

Then she caught sight of it: Shaun’s red jacket. A cheer went up from the crowd, but it sounded far in the distance to Selma’s ears.

She kept digging, faster.

Fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes.

How much time had passed? Would he still be alive? Dead? Brain-damaged? Himself ever again?

She dug more furiously, sobs quaking out of her body.

Someone touched her arm but she ignored them, still digging.

The other responders were digging as well, but to her it seemed they were all going in slow motion.

Too slowly.

“Hurry!” she screamed. “He’s in there!” And I love him.

I love him, I love him, I love him.

Then she realized she wasn’t just thinking it, but chanting it out loud through sobs.

I love him, I love him, I love him.

His arm came into view. Then his brown hair. Then his face.

His handsome tanned face…now pale white.

She dug more frantically.

Men reached in and together they all pulled him out.

He was limp.

Unmoving.

Shaun. Usually so filled with life. His strong male physique suddenly looked so small, so vulnerable. So unlike him.

Her heart stopped. She crawled to him over the wet snow, her breathing hoarse.

“Shaun!” She bent over his face. “Come back to me!” That handsome smiling face…now without expression. Without life.

“Is he dead?” she whispered.

No one answered, or maybe they didn’t hear her.

Someone began doing CPR on him.

One…two…three

Still he didn’t move.

She turned away, unable to watch any longer.

Tears ran down her face. She covered her eyes with her cold, gloved hands.

Shaun.

He was gone. She knew it in her heart.

Then she heard a cough.

A long, raspy cough…followed by a cheer from the crowd.

She whipped around. Shaun was sitting up, looking dazed. He turned and met her eyes.

“Selma.”

She scrambled over. “Shaun, Shaun, you’re alive!” She fell onto the ground in front of him, grabbing his legs and unable to control her loud sobs.

“Holy shit, what happened?” he said, causing the men to burst out laughing.

“You survived an avalanche, man,” someone said.

Shaun looked around with a dazed expression. “No shit?”

Selma couldn’t contain her sobbing. “You’re alive, you’re alive.”

“Of course I’m alive, baby.” Shaun met her gaze. Then he reached out to her. “There’s no way I could ever leave you.”

SHAUN WAS TAKEN to the local hospital to be evaluated. Luckily, he was fine except for some minor frostbite. He wasn’t even in shock, which Selma found surprising, considering she was treated for it.

They were both discharged from the hospital a few hours later.

Back at the hotel, they lay together on the bed and ordered room service.

Selma kept fighting back tears as she was hit with periodic memories of seeing him buried, and then seeing his lifeless form once he was dug out.

“I thought you were dead,” she said, blinking back tears. “It was the worst feeling ever.”

“I’m here, baby.” He pulled her close and stroked away her tears away with his thumbs.

“I’m sorry I skied off like that, forcing you to go through the backwoods to catch up to me. I feel like if I hadn’t done that, you wouldn’t have triggered that avalanche. You could’ve been killed.”

“I don’t blame you, Selma. I pulled the rug out from under you. I understand why you skied off.”

“I should have stayed to listen to what you had to say.”

“I understand. I would have done the same. But yes, I hope you can hear me out.”

She turned her eyes up to him. “I want you to know something. I know you’re married, but at that moment, when I thought you were gone, the only thing that I could think about was my love for you. It superseded everything.”

Tears filled his eyes. “That means everything to me.”

“Talk to me, Shaun. I need to know the whole story.”

“Okay.” He took a deep breath. “Here goes.” He reached out and took her hand. “I’ve been married for seven years. I have twin boys. They’re five years old. My wife…we’re currently separated…had severe postpartum depression. It was more like psychosis, actually. She started doing bizarre things that were out of character for her: leaving for days at a time, going on spending sprees, acting erratically. She wasn’t herself for a long time. We tried to get her help. I even had her committed at one point. And then she started cheating on me.”

Selma sucked in a breath. “She cheated on you?”

“Yes.” His jaw clenched. “She was diagnosed with borderline personality made worse by her postpartum depression. I stood by her while she got treatment, but still she kept having affairs. She would sneak off after getting the twins to bed and not come home until early morning. I heard from friends that they would see her around town, at the local bars, getting drunk and leaving with guys. She was even caught giving some guy a blowjob in a back alley outside of a dive bar. That was the last straw. That’s when I knew I couldn’t do it anymore, even though she was the mother of our children. I couldn’t jeopardize their well-being by leaving them in her care, either. Up until then, I’d thought if she got enough help, she would be cured. But that’s not the way it was.”

He looked away. “I stayed as long I did because I wanted it to work. I don’t take marriage vows lightly. And I did it for the boys.”

“So you’re separated?”

“Yes. We’re in the process of getting a divorce. She won’t sign the papers, though. Our attorneys are still in negotiation.”

“Over what?”

“Everything. I told my attorney that she could have all of our material possessions: the condo, truck, you name it. But I wanted the boys.”

“And she wouldn’t give you that?”

“No. Not even fifty percent. She filed for sole custody.”

“Oh, wow. That’s terrible.”

“It is. My attorney says it won’t happen because of her mental issues, but still, it’s been dragging out. I’m hopeful it’ll be resolved within the next few weeks and we can finally sign divorce papers.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“A year.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “It is what it is. But it’s been hard.”

“I can only imagine.” A rush of tenderness and sympathy flooded her chest. “But why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He met her eyes. “I told you. I didn’t want to scare you off.”

“You wouldn’t have.”

“How do I know that? What if I’d told you from day one that I was married with kids? You’re saying that wouldn’t have freaked you out, even just a little?”

“I don’t know.” She contemplated this. “I don’t think it would have made a difference.”

“I wish I’d known that.”

“I wish you hadn’t lied to me.”

“Selma, I never lied to you. I just didn’t tell you the whole picture.”

“Lying by omission is still lying.”

“In the beginning, I knew that what we had was special, but I never thought it would lead to this…to what I feel for you now.”

“And what’s that?”

He propped himself up on his elbow. “Love. True love. Intense passion.” He reached out and stroked her bottom lip. “God, you look beautiful right now.”

Warmth flooded her belly at his words and expression.

He pulled her close so their faces were inches apart. His green eyes gazed into her very soul, making her tremble with love and desire.

He stroked her hair, and then brought her face in for a lingering kiss.

She stroked her hands up under his t-shirt until she found his strong back. His skin was so warm, so nice to touch. She slid her fingers down the planes of his back, savoring the feel of his body…his aliveness. He was here with her, all of him.

His hands slid down her shoulders until they reached her breasts. She gasped at the feel of his fingers lightly stroking her hard nipples over the fabric of her turtleneck sweater.

He reached under and slowly slid his hands up her belly to her breasts. He cupped them and then began stroking the taut nipples.

She pressed her body against his and wrapped her legs around his from the side. She could feel his erection pressing against her thigh. She reached down and slid her hand along its firm length.

“I’m so hard for you, baby,” he whispered in her ear. “I want you so much.”

She inhaled and pressed her body more firmly against his…wanting--needing--to feel his masculine strength.

He pulled her on top of him so she was straddling his torso. His eyes were glazed with heat as he gazed up at her.

“My God, look at you.”

She tossed her hair, feeling beautiful under his gaze. She reached down and grasped her turtleneck by the bottom edges, and then slowly pulled it up and off.

She wasn’t wearing a bra, and he inhaled at the sight of her bare breasts with erect nipples. He slid his hands slowly over her breasts as if savoring every swell and curve.

She could feel his hard length below her now, jutting firm against her inner thigh. She pressed herself against it, arching her back.

He reached up pulled his t-shirt over his head. Bolts of desire flooded her at the sight of his delectable chiseled chest. Seeing his well-defined, masculine body over sent her over the edge. He was so handsome, all man in every way.

She inched her way down his body, pulling his jeans off as she went. Then she removed his boxer briefs. He lay nude in front of her, his firm member jutting up. She lowered her mouth to his bulbous tip and wetted it gently with her tongue.

He groaned. “Oh, baby.”

She grasped his length, desire swelling in her body. She couldn’t wait to bring him pleasure, couldn’t wait to see him writhe in ecstasy.

She lowered her mouth to the head of his cock and slowly drew him into her mouth.

He groaned again, loudly. “I love how your mouth feels on my cock.”

She slid down his length, savoring the taste and feel of him in her mouth. To her, there was nothing sexier than seeing his desire for her…and enhancing it.

She slid her wet tongue up and down his length as she sucked.

He began thrusting lightly into her mouth, breathing heavily. “Oh, baby, so good.”

She continued to slide her mouth up and down his length until his legs twitched and bucked. His cock swelled inside her mouth, and she could tell he was close to ejaculating.

“Don’t make me come, baby,” he whispered hoarsely. “I need to be inside you. I need to feel you.”

He pulled her up, and then flipped her over so she was lying on her back. He leaned down and kissed her bare belly button, then began working his way down, inching her jeans off in the process.

He pulled aside her lacy panties and gently flicked a tongue around her opening.

She arched her back and reared up, her body begging for his tongue to lick her, pleasure her, suck her.

He flicked it gently into her opening, and she let out a loud gasp at the feeling of exquisite pleasure racing through her nerve endings.

“Do you like that?” he murmured, looking up at her with those striking green eyes.

“Yes,” she gasped. “More.”

He pulled off her panties and threw them to the side. Then he spread her legs so she was wide open to him. Usually this filled her with shyness and a feeling of vulnerability to be so exposed, but at this moment, she was filled with so much overwhelming desire and love for him that it overrode everything else. She felt close to him…not afraid to be vulnerable to him anymore. She was fully open to his love.

He held her legs and slowly flicked his tongue inside her opening. Her legs quivered, and she moaned. He began delving deeply, probing her with his wet tongue until she gasped and bucked. The pressure built, and still he continued to work her relentlessly.

Then a climax crashed over her, nearly blinding her with its intensity. She cried out and succumbed to the tremors of pleasure that coursed through her body. She gripped his head until every last quiver subsided.

When she came to her senses, she looked down to see him gazing up at her with a smile.

“Good?”

“Oh yes…”

He crawled up her body until he was hovering over her. She reached down to grasp his erection. He was so hard, practically pulsing with need.

He bent and kissed her deeply. His hands cupped the back of her head, pulling her face to his. They kissed like that for a long moment, their bodies barely touching as he hovered over her.

Then he lowered himself onto her. She savored the warmth of his strong body covering hers. Every cell in her body craved his touch, wanted him inside her. She wanted him so badly that her legs were practically shaking with need. She wrapped them around his backside to pull him closer.

She felt the swollen head of his cock nudge her entrance, which was so slick with desire, need. She closed her eyes and gripped his back, anticipating the moment when he first drove into her.

Still he hovered there, not pushing himself fully into her yet. She opened her eyes to see him staring down at her.

“I love you, Selma,” he said, looking deeply into her eyes. The way he said the words was so heartfelt, so true, that she felt the meaning in them beyond the actual words. In that moment, with their bodies so close to being merged and their hearts synced completely, she knew she had finally found true happiness with this man.

“I love you, too,” she whispered as tears filled her eyes.

He slowly pushed inside her, completing her in a way that she not only craved, but needed.

Then they were moving together in unison, their bodies merged as one. Their sighs turned to moans, and the words they whispered to each other were filled with promises of the future.

The pleasure built with each long, slow stroke, and every moment of their togetherness was one build of an ecstasy that Selma didn’t know what possible.

They’d had good lovemaking before, but never like this.

Never at this level…or depth.

The climax that rose up and overcame her was like an offering, a giving of herself. It broke her open, shattered her in the best sense. Her body quivered and shook in raw ecstasy. And when he climaxed, too, at the same time, it was a meeting, a matching, a complete unifying of two people.

There was only way to explain the feeling of what they were experiencing together in this moment: true, passionate love…a joining of two human beings, body, heart, and spirit.

When the waves finally subsided, Selma was left gasping and crying from the experience.

Shaun looked down at her and stroked her cheek with such tenderness and devotion in his eyes that she was left breathless.

“I’ve never wanted anything more in my life than this…with you,” he said.

“Me too.”

“I know I have baggage, but I promise you I’ll make you the happiest woman in the world if you let me.”

“I want that. And I want to make you the happiest man in the world.”

“You already do.”

“We’ll make it work…all of it. I’m not scared. I want this with you, Shaun. I know I’ll love your kids. I know it’ll all work out.”

“Yes. It’s going to work out. And when it does, we can be always be together. And be happy.”

“We're so good together, baby.”

“We are.”

He leaned in and kissed her. The same familiar tingles rushed down her spine at the first touch of his lips to hers.

“Merry Christmas,” he whispered. “I love you, Selma.”

“I love you, too.”

“I want you in my life always.”

“Always?”

“Always. Forever.”

“Done.” He kissed her long and passionately.

And then the whole world melted away.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Get a free book from Riley J. Ford by signing up for her new release list , or go to www.RileyJFord.com to find out more about the author and her books.

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Read the earthshaking story of how Selma and Shaun first met in ROMANCE. EARTHQUAKE. LOVE.

Other Books By Riley

INTO YOU

JUST US (Book One)

JUST YOU (Book Two)

Carpe DiEmily

Get Part 1 Free

Carpe DiEmily (Parts 1 and 2)

Simone: Adventures in Dating

Get Part 1 Free

Book 1 (The Billionaire)

Book 2 (The Billionaire Revealed)

Book 3 (The Cowboy)

Book 4 (The Cop)

Book 5 (The Attorney)

Fifty Shades of Fifty Shades of Grey

Circus of Lost Souls

THE RUNAWAY SLEIGH

BY EMMA ROMAN

The Runaway Sleigh

Copyright © 2015 by KS Publishing

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Created with Vellum

CHAPTER 1

T  he scent of cinnamon and spicy cider was one of Peter Gibson’s favorites. It was the scent of Christmas. It always brought back the fondest memories of laughter and love he’d shared with his late wife.

Diane had been gone for nearly a decade, but they’d started the tradition of dressing up as Mr. And Mrs. Claus for the Somewhere Holiday Stroll fifteen years ago.

He hadn’t stopped. Diane wouldn’t have wanted him to.

Every citizen’s smile and every child’s laugh reminded him of how much she’d loved Christmas. How much she’d loved this town. Somewhere had given him the best years of his life.

Sixteen amazing years with a woman that never gave up.

Brain cancer stole her away from him, but even to that last breath, he couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t smiling, laughing, or singing. Or telling him everything would be okay.

She had been his world, and this Christmas parade was his way of honoring her memory. He’d made her a promise at her hospital bedside to keep their tradition going. “Remember the past, but always look forward, my love.” Those had been her last words. “You never know when life might surprise you.” She’d been giving him permission to move on, but he hadn’t found a reason to change his routine yet.

He hadn’t moved on. Hadn’t even tried.

It was going to take a helluva surprise to knock him off the comfortable path he’d followed since losing her.

Peter patted Lady’s rump, one of the quarter horses from the VonBrandt stables. The family had been kind enough to lend horses this year, along with the funds to buy all the gifts and food for the party at the end of the parade. Every year, he worked with the theatre in town to organize the parade. Every year, he was surprised by the generosity of the families who lived in Somewhere.

Aaron himself had shown up with the horses and was helping hitch them to the wagon Peter had re-built to look like a sleigh. It still had wheels, but you couldn’t see the back ones through all the painted plywood, garland, and plaster forms that transformed a plain old-timey wagon into Santa’s festive ride.

“You know this sleigh is getting old, Peter,” Aaron VonBrandt said, buckling the harness onto the mare opposite Lady.

Peter glanced over Lady’s back and grinned. “Old but sturdy.”

“Just like you.”

“I’m not old.” Peter chuckled. “Just well-seasoned.”

“I’ll have to remember that the next time Luke or Noah calls me old.”

“Those boys of yours are growing up fast. Both of them have girlfriends now, right? I saw them at Joe’s the other day.”

Aaron nodded. “Yes. They surprised us this year. But the boys tend to do everything together, so it shouldn’t have caught us off guard that they both found someone within six months of each other.”

A green Celtic tattoo peeked out from beneath the wristband of Aaron’s sweatshirt.

Peter raised an eyebrow, remembering tattoos very similar on both of Aaron’s sons and their girlfriends. “What’s up with the tattoos?”

Aaron’s eyes narrowed, and Peter could’ve sworn he heard the man growl.

“It’s a family tradition,” Aaron answered, pasting on a hopeful smile.

Peter shrugged. That answer was good enough for him. Who was he to judge what other people did to commemorate love. He dressed as Santa and kept his wife’s old Mrs. Claus robe on the seat next to him. Nostalgia could be found in anything big or small. A robe or a tattoo.

Still, that meant both boys planned to marry the girls they were now dating, right? Surely a family tradition dictated more than just girlfriend status before tattoos were in order.

He smiled at Aaron. “That’s a really great way to honor commitment.”

The broad shoulders of the large man fell just slightly and the look on his face could only be read as relief.

“You don’t show them very often, do you?” Peter asked, prodding the uncomfortable benefactor. It wasn’t often anyone saw a VonBrandt unprepared. They tended to take charge wherever they were, and no matter the situation.

“The boys have less inhibitions about showing off their ink,” Aaron answered, shrugging off the last of his tension. “My wife and I like our privacy.”

Peter nodded. “Nothing wrong with that. Thank you again for the support this year. I know the theatre board has probably already gushed their appreciation, but I wanted to be sure you heard it from me as well.”

“The Holiday Stroll is a wonderful tradition. It always makes the town feel smaller and more connected. Everyone comes together for the holidays. As they should.” Aaron took a step back from the harnessed mare and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll see you back at the theatre, Santa.”

Grabbing the big red coat from the back of the sleigh, Peter yanked it on and fastened it around the pillow he’d strapped to his otherwise flat stomach. He pulled out the wig and beard and put those on too.

“Ho ho ho.” Peter patted his padded stomach and grinned at Aaron. “Would you go tell the girls in the car over there to put their phones away and come on over. I need my elves.” He pointed to the red four-door vehicle parked a few spaced away from Aaron’s horse trailer.

Aaron nodded and headed for the car. Before he got there, the driver’s and passenger doors flew open and the two teenage girls inside emerged, giggling and laughing.

They were dressed in bright red and green elf costumes, complete with striped tights and pointy velvet shoes. One of them pulled a giant red velvet bag from the back seat of the car. It was very full and very lumpy, already stuffed with the candy and treats that would be tossed to the audience as they made their trek down Main Street and back up Third, to the Piper Theatre for the party.

He’d have another bag at the theatre with gifts to pass out to the children.

“Ladies, thank you for volunteering to be my helpers this year.”

“No problem, Mr. Gibson,” the high-schoolers answered in unison before clambering up into the back of the sleigh.

“It’s actually a sought after spot,” one of the girls said, winking at him.

He shook his head and climbed to the front seat. Teenagers baffled him, especially girls. Plus, he had a feeling whatever she was alluding to, he didn’t want to know. Better to just nod, grin, and move on.

Aaron picked up the leads and handed them to him from the ground.

“Thanks.”

Aaron stepped back and Peter clucked his tongue, guiding the mares out of the parking lot on the east side of the theatre. It was already starting to fill with cars.

Families arriving for the party were rushing every which way, trying to find a good place to stand for the parade. The roads directly around Town Square had been closed off to traffic and were being closely monitored by deputies. He could see Allan VonBrandt, Aaron’s brother, standing in uniform on the corner of Main and Burlington, right in front of the Tribal Council Office.

He waved as he turned the sleigh onto Burlington and headed for Main Street, where the parade would officially start.

Groups of carolers, the high school cheer squad, football players, and the marching band from the McA all had floats decorated, lined up and ready for the stroll. They were all waiting on him.

Santa’s sleigh was at the end of the parade.

Always save the best for last.

CHAPTER 2

P eter rubbed his wife’s bright red robe, lying across the bench seat next to him. “Another year, Diane. Another year of smiles and laughs without you. But, I know you’re up there somewhere watching over me.”

“Mr. Gibson, you okay?” one of the girls in the back of the wagon asked.

“Yep. Just perfect,” he answered, turning to glance at them over his shoulder.

Both girls grinned and situated themselves on the bench he’d built in the back.

“You girls ready to pass out the treats?”

“Absolutely, Santa.”

The music for the stroll alternated between the marching band and the group of carolers up at the front. The festive lyrics of Jingle Bells danced through the air and Peter smiled, still able to hear Diane’s voice singing in his memory. It was layered over by the children lining the sidewalks of the streets. He waved and laughed, alternating his focus from one side of the street to the other.

“Merry Christmas, Somewhere!” he shouted every so often.

The girls in the back threw mini candy canes and wrapped bits of chocolate at the groups of people, and Peter’s chest ached at the sound of children squealing in delight.

He and his wife hadn’t been able to have children. It was one of the only things he truly regretted about not remarrying. He was past having kids now. At fifty-five, his life was starting to slow down. Not speed up.

They turned the corner at Boundary and headed west toward Third. The houses along the south side of Boundary were beautifully decorated. All the residential areas around Town Square always went above and beyond, whether they had a small house or one of the historical mansions. Everyone worked together to make the neighborhoods into a winter wonderland.

A car in the distance backfired and one of the mares nearly jumped out of her shoes.

“Whoa, girl,” he cooed, settling her with soft whispers and assurances. Hopefully that car didn’t come any closer.

The mare yanked the reins, but finally settled back into a slow walk. Between all the squealing children, the carolers, and the marching band, she was doing fantastic. The mares that usually pulled the sleigh annually were some old farm horses from the Harris farm, north of town. But the Harris’ had retired to Florida and sold the place, along with all the animals. Now some guy who ran a security firm owned it. He couldn’t remember his name, but he’d seen him a few times. Definitely ex-military.

“Everything okay, Mr. Gibson?” One of the girls asked, her voice shaking just a tad.

“It’s fine, hon. Don’t worry.”

He clucked his tongue and turned north onto Third Street, following a few yards behind the cheerleaders from the high school.

A backfire popped again, this time closer. The muscles in his arms tensed. This time both mares pranced nervously under the reins.

“Girls, I want you to climb down and walk. Just in case. These girls are not handling that noise well.” Peter pulled tight, trying to keep the mares from getting any lead. They were much younger than the old gals he was used to as well as the docile stock he worked with at Saddles for Hope. The last thing he needed was for them to bolt and the teens in the back to get thrown. “Whoa, girls. Shhhh. It’s okay. It’s just somebody’s old car.”

The elves hopped out the wagon a few seconds later and dropped back a few yards behind him, carrying the giant Santa sack between them. Candy still flew to both sides of the street and children continued to smile and laugh.

Peter tried to wave a few times, but each time he put both reins in one hand that damned car would backfire again. He didn’t want to disappoint the kids, so he tried again. The car hadn’t backfired for at least a minute. Maybe the idiot had finally turned it off.

No. Such. Luck.

A huge crack split through the air as they passed the Grove apartment complex and with only one hand holding the reins, Peter couldn’t hold the powerful quarter horses back again. His arms were already shaking from keeping them calm for the last five blocks.

One of the mares reared up, and the left rein slipped from his hand before he could tighten his hold. “Whoa!” he shouted, trying to reassure the horse and warn the people ahead of him at the same time. “Girls, move to the right!” he bellowed at the cheerleaders ahead of him. The horse would break left into the residential area. They wouldn’t run toward the storefronts.

A second later, the wagon had hopped the sidewalk and they were running over flowerbeds and sidewalks. People were scattering in all directions. Screams from both sides of the wagon made his blood run cold. He could only pray everyone made it out of the way in time.

He wrestled with the remaining rein in his grip and yanked on the mare harnessed to the right.

Everything happened in a few seconds, but it felt like time had slowed to a standstill.

“Whoa, pretty lady! Whoa!”

A woman screamed and Peter’s heart nearly stopped beating. One of the horses bumped her, and she went sailing backward onto the lawn to his left.

“Dammit!”

Two huge animals —wolves—leapt out in front of the startled mares, snapping their jaws and snarling. A second later, there were two VonBrandts next to them, waving their arms and distracting the mares. The one on the left reared again, but seemed to be much more worried about the one-hundred-fifty pound hybrid wolf growling at her side than the long forgotten car exhaust.

He recognized Aaron on the right, but he didn’t know the man on the left.

Peter grabbed the side of the wagon to lower himself to the ground, but paused. Taking a deep breath, he contemplated the golden-eyed black wolf only a few feet away. “I really need to go check on her.” He pointed over his shoulder where he’d seen the woman get nearly run over. “Is he—”

“Midnight won’t hurt you. Go ahead, we’ll stay with the mares,” the stranger said.

Peter nodded and jumped to the hard ground. He sprinted toward the woman sitting on a nearby lawn.

She was shouting at another man, who was standing over her, trying to help her to her feet.

“Get away from me. I don’t want you on my property. None of you. I’ll sue this town for the damage! This stupid parade will never happen again!”

CHAPTER 3

C arolyn Myers bit her tongue. Her ankle hurt like she’d been hit with a two-by-four. Oh, wait. She’d been run over by a horse pulling Santa’s sleigh!

Of all the things, it had to be a freakin’ wagon designed to look like a sleigh. The incompetence was intolerable. How dare they put jittery horses in a public parade.

This was just another thing to add to her long list of reasons she hated the holidays. Hated Christmas, especially. At the top of the list, because her husband had left her on Christmas Eve for another woman.

After that, the tinsel and lights had lost their charm. She hated the colors red and green. This stupid parade every year was just extra work. She had to go out and clean up the candy and crap they tossed to the onlookers who lined the streets and trampled her lawn. Every year she petitioned the town to pick a different street for the stroll and every year she was told the same thing.

No.

The Holiday Stroll was always a mess. So loud. The children squealing and parents hollering at them. The din of the off-key marching bands. The annoyingly chipper attitudes of all the carolers and other participants made her physically ill.

Why couldn’t her husband have left her on Martin Luther King Day or Presidents Day? Why did he have to go and ruin a holiday she’d used to love?

Now she couldn’t stand the sight of a piece of holly without wanting to scream. The hole in her heart had never healed. Ten years, and it still felt as fresh as the day Bill had walked out on her. Now Christmas had dealt her another blow.

And it felt like a really bad sprain.

“Ma’am, are you sure you don’t want me to call for an ambulance?”

She looked up into the strangers’ face and frowned. “I’ll be fine. Just get off my lawn and leave me the hell alone.”

The young man’s eyes widened and he backed away, as if she were an animal with its teeth bared. Kinda like those monstrous hybrid wolves standing next to the horses and sleigh. Good grief, they were huge.

“That wasn’t very neighborly of you,” a gravely voice rumbled to her left.

She turned to meet a pair of honey-brown eyes and a smile that made even her frosty wall of self-imposed-isolation melt just a bit.

Two dimples creased his cheeks as a smile split the lower half of his face. A hint of silver peeked from beneath the white wig, and his cheeks were scruffy with a day-old beard as he tugged the bearded white sham down to hang around his neck.

“Maybe I’m not a nice neighbor,” she spat out, instead of wincing at the pain lancing through her left ankle. “Maybe you should leave me alone, too. Didn’t you hear what I told him?”

“Maybe I’m too stubborn to take orders from a beautiful lady who’s obviously in a great deal of pain.”

Carolyn opened her mouth and then snapped it back closed. When was the last time a man had called her beautiful? She couldn’t place a single instance in the last decade. Although, it wasn’t like she gave men much of a chance, either. She worked from home on the computer, ordered her clothes online, and ate takeout pretty much every day of the week. Putting on makeup was a thing of the past.

She didn’t need or want the attention of anyone, especially a man.

Seeing people wasn’t really on the need-to-do or want-to-do list. It was bad enough she had to come out and clean up her perfectly manicured lawn after the parade passed by. The service she paid to take care of it during the summer closed down in the winter. She’d tried to get the neighbors’ kids to do it for her one year, but they didn’t do a good enough job and she’d ended up having clean up after they left.

“I’m Peter Gibson,” said the giant male looming over her.

Ignoring the natural urge to introduce herself, she glared instead. “I was serious when I said I wanted you to leave me alone. Your parade is leaving without you.”

He knelt, meeting her eye level. “Do you have pain anywhere besides your ankle?”

“No,” she said, trying not to flinch when he gently moved her hand aside and raised the pant leg of her jeans.

“Ouch,” he exclaimed.

Her ankle was already double its normal size and turning purple.

“Who can I call for you? That needs a doctor’s attention, ASAP.”

She shook her head. “I’m fine. I’ll wrap it up inside, and it’ll be fine. Just get back to your—”

He slipped an arm around her torso and another under her legs, scooping her up like damsel in distress.

Damn it to hell. She did not need a knight in shining armor to save the day. There was no such thing, anyway. “What the he—”

“Shhhh,” he whispered in her ear. “There are children. Watch the language.”

She snapped her teeth together, barely missing her tongue. Her lips compressed and she huffed, instead of yelling at him.

“I know a doc up at the theatre who can look at your leg, wrap it up, and make sure if you need to go to the hospital or not.”

“I’m not going.”

“I figured you’d say that. That’s why you’re coming with me.”

“I don’t want to come with you. You. You big oaf.”

“I’m Santa,” he said, a chuckle shaking her against his strong chest. “Everyone wants to be with Santa.”

“Not me.”

“Can we make it the rest of the way, Aaron?” Peter asked, stopping beside the wagon/sleigh.

Aaron VonBrandt nodded. “Who’s your friend? Is she injured?”

“She won’t say. But her ankle is twisted pretty bad. I’m going to take her up to the theatre and let Doc Cooper look at her.”

“My name is Carolyn Myers and I will be fine. Just put me down.” He had some nerve, talking to the man as if she wasn’t even present. She wriggled in his arms and he let his arm slip out from under her legs, but pressed her torso tighter to his firm chest. She couldn’t help but notice how in-shape he was. It’d been a long time since she had touched, much less been held, by a man under any circumstances.

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawled out.

She pushed away from his chest and huffed again. He was treating her like a child. She wasn’t one. Carolyn took a step and bit back the scream of agony that rose in her throat. Strong arms closed around her again before she could fall. When she caught her breath and opened her eyes, she was once again in Santa’s arms.

“I believe that means you won’t be going anywhere without me, Carolyn.” He flashed a wide smile. “How about you come to the theatre with me? Let me hand out all the gifts. Doc Cooper can wrap up your leg. Then I’ll take you home.”

“How about you take me home right now.”

His lips scrunched together in the most adorable way, and he shook his head. “Nope. I don’t think so.”

“I’m not dressed to stay out in this cold. I just came out to pick up the trash really quick.”

“I have a coat you can wear,” he said, then frowned like he’d spoken to soon.

He lifted her onto the wagon seat and looked up, meeting her gaze, a pained expression in his previously jovial brown eyes. “The coat is there on the seat. You’ll be plenty warm in it.”

She looked to her right. A beautiful red velvet coat, lined with thermal material on the inside and trimmed with fluffy white fur along the edges was carefully draped over the seat.

“Whose coat is it?”

He walked around the back of the wagon, to the other side as she slipped into the soft warm coverup.

“My wife’s.”

Her heart dropped into her stomach. “Where’s your wife?”

“She passed away. I bring it with me every year to remember her by.”

“Oh, God.” She choked on the words. “I’m so sorry.” Carolyn started to pull the coat off and hand it back, but he put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

“She won’t mind. And it looks good on you.” The pain had disappeared from his gaze and been replaced with a different look. It reminded her of the look her husband used to give her when they’d first gotten married.

The look of an interested man.

She closed her eyes and turned to face the horses hitched to the wagon. This was a complication she didn’t need, whether her body craved to be touched by his calloused hands again, or cradled in his arms against his solid chest.

I hate Christmas.

CHAPTER 4

P eter waved the men off standing beside the mares and they backed away, calling the wolves to follow them —one as black as night and the other whiter than the clouds in the sky. Beautifully terrifying.

Both were larger than any dog she’d ever seen. Their backs were level with the mens’ waists they walked next to.

“Pretty big, aren’t they?”

Had she spoken out loud? “What?”

“The wolves,” he said, a chuckle rolling up from deep within his chest. You haven’t stopped staring at them since we started moving.”

“Why would anyone want a wolf as a pet?”

“Technically, they’re hybrids. Not pure wolf. As for why…no clue. I guess if you have enough money, you end up with things that typical people don’t even consider an option.”

She shrugged. It was a good answer if the men were rich, but their clothes looked the same as anyone else wandering town square during the parade.

“Do you know them?”

“You don’t know Aaron VonBrandt?”

“I know his name, but I’d never seen him face to face. Who was the other man?”

Peter was the one shaking his head this time. “Not sure. Never met him. But the VonBrandts have a lot of family living out on their ranches. And a lot of people that visit regularly. He was probably family or a friend. Since the wolf knew him. My best guess is family.”

“Hmmm.” She pulled the coat a little tighter, cutting off the bite of the cold wind.

He pulled the wagon to a stop in front of the theatre and hopped to the ground. He handed the reins to a man she didn’t recognize, but who bore a striking resemblance to the men with the wolves. He was much younger, though.

“Tell your dad thanks again for the horses.”

The younger man gave a half-smile. “Sorry Lady gave you a start. We’ve never had trouble with her like that before. She’s always so calm.”

“It’s okay, Noah. Even horses can have a bad day.” Peter circled the wagon and came around to stand beside the bench seat. He raised his arms. “You’re going to have to scoot off the bench into my arms. I promise I won’t let you drop.”

Using her good leg, Carolyn did as asked and slipped off the seat. His hands caught her around the waist and he let her body slide slowly through his grasp against his chest. Her breath hitched as her breasts pressed against him once more. She licked her lips without thinking.

“Something look good, Miss Myers?”

Heat rushed up her neck and spread through her face. He hadn’t just flirted with her had he?

“I…wha…” Her lips parted, but she couldn’t form a coherent thought.

Peter smiled again. Those perfect dimples gave him a boyish charm even at his age…whatever that might be. She couldn’t be sure. Early fifties, maybe.

“Lean against the wagon for a sec.”

She did, and frowned when he tugged the white beard up from where it hung limply at his neck. After fixing it in place, most of his handsome face was covered. Instead, she saw the icon of the holiday she hated with every fiber of her being. Carolyn remembered she was wearing his dead wife’s coat.

Her emotions were getting the better of her and that needed to stop. After this doc looked at her, and Peter Gibson took her back to her house, she’d be done with this. She’d never have to see him again. In fact, she would call up a realtor tomorrow and list the house for sale. It was high time she moved to a bigger city. Maybe leaving the quietness of Somewhere in the past would finally help her leave her past behind as well.

She loved this small town. But it hurt every time she stepped foot outside her front door. Memories of growing up with her ex-husband. Dating him. He was the only boy she’d ever dated. And the only man she’d ever loved.

And he’d ripped out her heart and stomped all over it.

She’d vowed that night to never let another man that close. Even if it meant being alone for the rest of her life.

His hand cupped her chin and lifted her head until she met his honey-brown gaze again. “Where did you go, Carolyn? Why are you so sad?”

“I’m fine,” she snapped. “You’re the one carrying around your dead wife’s coat.”

Oh, God! How could she have just said that?

His expression behind the white beard was crestfallen. She was pretty sure she saw a tear escape one eye before he quickly wiped it away.

He coughed and scooped her up into his arms again like she weighed no more than the children she could hear squealing from inside the building.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “That was a horrible thing to say. I shouldn’t have. I’m sure you have your reasons.” Her face burned and she wanted to shrink from sight. Instead, she was trapped in the arms of a nice man who’d been nothing but kind to her and was only trying to make sure she got the proper care for her injury.

In return she’d been a bitch and insulted his wife. His dead wife.

She’d let her bitterness over what’d happened to her ten years ago drag her to a new low.

“It was a horrible thing to say, but I’m sure you had your reasons as well.” His voice rumbled low, through his chest and rolled through her body as well.

Peter pushed open the front door of the Piper Theatre with his shoulder and more Christmas cheer assailed her from every angle. Tinsel. Strings of popcorn and cranberries. Garland. Holly. Lights. Lights. And more lights.

Children screamed in excitement.

“Santa!… Santa’s here!… And Mrs. Claus too!… Yay!… Santa brought Mrs. Claus this year!” The cheers rang from every corner of the room.

“I’m no—”

“Shhhh,” he commanded. “Don’t ruin it for them. You can be Mrs. Claus for an hour or two.”

“I don’t want to be Mrs. Claus for five minutes. Put me down and take this coat.”

He shook his head. “Merry Christmas,” he bellowed. “Can you bring another chair for Mrs. Claus? She hurt her ankle and can’t stand up.”

Several adults moved quickly, and another rocking chair was set next to the large wooden one already in the center of the large hall. An endless pile of brightly colored gifts was stacked around the rocker and an enormous, festively decorated Christmas tree was set up behind it.

Oh, God. “They’re going to take pictures, aren’t they?” Her voice came out softer than a whisper.

“Yep. Which means I get to see you smile. I’ve been imagining what that might look like since I first picked you up.” He winked and she scowled. He clucked his tongue and set her gently in the rocker. Then arranged the oversized robe to hide her clothes beneath it. He hooked the button at the top of her neck and brushed his thumb along the line of her jaw.

Her breath caught in her chest and her stomach fluttered.

Why wouldn’t he just let her be? Why did he have to drag her into the spotlight? Carolyn didn’t want to be surround by children. Surrounded by happy families. It reminded her of what she’d given up on.

She blinked a few times and took a deep breath, willing the tears away with anger. He was a jerk for doing this to her. He knew she didn’t want to participate. Peter Gibson was forcing her to.

That wasn’t absolutely true. She could ask any one of the adults in the room to help her to the side. She could apologize to the children and explain that it was a mistake. That she really wasn’t Mrs. Claus.

But she didn’t. She stayed.

She turned to glance over at Peter. A large man was leaning over his shoulder and Peter was speaking in a low quiet voice. She couldn’t tell what he said, but the other man rushed off in a hurry.

He turned back to her with his hundred-watt smile and dimples big enough to drown in. Even under the ridiculous curly white beard, he was handsome and… so happy.

She couldn’t remember that last time she’d been as happy as he looked at this very instant.

“As soon as Doc Cooper gets here and wraps your ankle, we can start the line.”

Carolyn shook her head. “You don’t have to wait, on my account.”

“Yes we do.”

CHAPTER 5

P eter couldn’t stop grinning. The woman was angry and hurt, but she reminded him so much of Diane. When she’d licked her lips right before he’d gotten her down from the wagon, he hadn’t been able to push away the desire to kiss her rosy mouth.

She was a beautiful woman. Honey blond hair curled around her ears, bouncing on her shoulders with each turn of her head. Her eyes were a mixture of blue and green and a splash of light brown freckles adorned her cheeks. It was cute.

She was younger than him, but hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken the time to look at any woman unless it’d been at Joe’s bar with the young guys from Anna’s ranch. And those girls certainly hadn’t been interested in an old man like him.

Carolyn was different. And she wasn’t too young. Hopefully. Plus, he could’ve sworn he’d seen a look of interest. Briefly maybe. But it’d still been there.

What he really couldn’t believe, was his interest.

She was sitting there, so annoyed by the whole situation, almost like she hated the sight of Christmas itself. Still wearing his wife’s old costume coat, and doing her darnedest not to cry. A fake smile split her face and she pretended to be interested when a little toddler wandered up and rubbed his little fingers across the red skirt of her long coat.

“Santa,” the familiar voice of Doc Cooper called, and he came out from the crowd carrying a brown duffle. “What’s this I hear about Mrs. Claus being injured?”

“Pretty sure it’s just a sprain, doc. But I refused to leave her behind. Wanted you to give it a look and hopefully wrap it for her,” Peter said, catching her gaze again. “He’ll take good care of you,” he said, winking. “The horses at the ranch love him. He always brings them treats.”

Her eyes widened, and air whooshed from her lungs. She gasped, “You’re a vet!” Her screech of surprise made them both laugh, which only brought another flood of pink to her round cheeks.

“Yes,” Doc Cooper answered. “I promise I know how to wrap a sprain. Plus, the kids are waiting. And you don’t want to see what happens to this room if they get antsy.”

He pushed aside Carolyn’s coat and rolled up her jeans pant leg.

Peter winced. The ankle was more swollen and even more purple than it had been when he’d looked at it.

“I’ll wrap it for now, Mrs. Claus, but Santa over here will need to help you to the ER after the party. I’m pretty sure it’s broken. I can take you now, if you’d like. I know the kids will be disappointed, but you’ve got to be in a lot of pain.” He kept his voice low and discreet, but Peter heard every word.

He was an asshole for thinking she could make it through the festivities. She needed painkillers and a bed.

She shook her head. “Just wrap it. I’ll stay until it’s over.”

“It’s okay, Carolyn. You can go,” Peter said, wishing he could leave the party right now with her. He could only imagine the pain she was fighting through and she shouldn’t have to wait.

“I’ll be fine.” She winced as the doctor finished tucking the end of the bandage beneath another strip. A single tear escaped, but she brushed it away and flashed a brave smile.

“Okay then,” he said, turning back the line of expectant children.

“Is Mrs. Claus okay?” asked the little girl at the front of the line. She couldn’t have been more than five, but the sympathy in her face was priceless.

“I am, sweetie. Don’t worry,” Carolyn answered before he could.

He turned and saw the first genuine smile from her so far. She beamed for that little girl’s benefit and it was damned beautiful. Sexy and sweet all wrapped up together.

He had it bad.

Peter shook his head and smiled. Diane was probably laughing her butt off as she watched this unfold. Here he was, trapped in a Santa suit with probably the only woman in the whole state of Texas that hated Christmas. It hadn’t escaped his notice that her home was the only house on the parade route that didn’t look like a gingerbread house from a Christmas painting.

Not even one lonely strand of lights had adorned her porch. Something had stolen her holiday spirit, and he was suddenly grateful for the runaway sleigh. If that car hadn’t backfired and Lady hadn’t bolted, he wouldn’t be sitting next to this woman who fought so hard to be angry so no one would notice how much she was hurting.

“Hop up, sweetie,” he said, turning back to the little girl.

She complied with a gleeful giggle and proceeded to whisper in his ear everything she wanted for Christmas, what her parents wanted, what her grandmother wanted, and even what her pet wanted.

He gave his best Santa laugh and smiled for the picture. Told her to be a good girl and just maybe what she wanted would be under her tree on Christmas morning.

Child after child sat on his knee over the course of two hours. Each child had a different wish. Each child got a present from the stack of brightly wrapped boxes next to his chair. Every child, after climbing down from his lap, walked carefully to Carolyn and gave her a gentle hug. All of them were careful of her foot and made sure to approach her from the side, and not the front.

By the time the line was finished, she was laughing and smiling and returning their hugs, even posing for pictures when they asked.

There was hope for her yet.

CHAPTER 6

He was carrying her again. The man just couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of her. Although, pressed tightly to his chest, she really couldn’t complain. It’d been so long since she felt protected.

And he made her feel that way. Small and safe. She could’ve hobbled along next to him, but he wouldn’t put her down.

Every time she’d protested he told her “No”. No explanation. No reason. Just “No” and kept right on.

Peter strolled through the ER doors and paused at the large desk where several nurses hustled back and forth. One was on the phone and the other two were talking to other people seeking care.

The nurse who’d been on the phone hung up and met Carolyn’s gaze.

“What can we do for you?” she asked, rising from her chair.

“She’s sprained, or possibly fractured, her ankle,” Peter answered before she could.

“Please fill out these papers,” the nurse said, passing a clipboard over the counter. “Bring them back when you’re done and we’ll get you in to see the doctor. Probably be about ten minutes.”

Carolyn took the board and he carried her toward a couple of empty chairs, placing her gently in one and sinking into the other himself. He didn’t groan, but she could tell he wanted to.

“You need to stop carrying me,” she said, scribbling her information on the documents.

“You need to stop complaining,” he said, another chuckle rumbling from his chest.

What was it that kept a smile on his face?

“Why are you so cheerful? We’re in a hospital, for crying out loud.”

“Who hurt you, Carolyn?” he asked, taking the finished paperwork from her hands. “I’d really like to break his face for you.”

She smirked as she pictured the mountain of a man in front of her knocking her ex to his ass. Possibly even breaking his nose.

“I’ll be right back.” He hopped up from the chair and dropped the clipboard at the front desk. Then hurried back to her side, sliding back into the chair and leaning sideways, until his arm and shoulder melded into hers. “Were you going to give me a name? Or should I regard every male in town as a potential target?”

“You’re just being nice to me because your horses almost killed me.”

“No, I’m being nice to you because for the first time in fifteen years since my wife passed away, a woman is blushing in my presence and I just can’t seem to get enough.”

Her chest tightened and she sucked in a quick breath. She hadn’t imagined the flirting or the interest. She wanted it to be real. He made her feel young again. Like anything was possible. Like her life maybe wasn’t over. Like she might not have to be alone forever.

“I woke up on Christmas eve ten years ago and found a note on my husband’s pillow that said he didn’t love me anymore, he’d found someone else who had more to give him, and he’d send paperwork in the mail for me sign.”

Peter’s fingers tightened around the chair handle until his knuckles turned white. His mouth pressed into an angry line and his honey-brown eyes darkened.

She had no doubt in her mind that if her ex showed up at this very moment, that Peter would decimate him. Even though imagining her ex getting the shit beat out of him was a little satisfying, she didn’t really want Peter in trouble for assault.

“He doesn’t live here anymore.” She put her hand over his and felt the tension in his body melt into the ether.

He turned his hand and threaded his fingers between hers, squeezing gently. “Any man who ends a marriage that way isn’t worth a second thought. I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head and stared at the white tiled floor. “He was the love of my life. When he left, I didn’t cope with life very well. I hired a lawyer, kept the house and the car. Then I never left.”

“Town?”

“The house.” She turned, looking into his eyes. They’d softened back to a warm honey color again. “I work from home. I shop from home. I order delivery to eat.”

He squeezed her hand again. “And in I come, ordering you around, taking you to a Christmas party. No wonder you cringe at the sight of holiday decorations. Geez. Could I have been any more bossy?”

She laughed. “I can’t believe I let him ruin a wonderful holiday for so long. You know, those kids are really what tipped the scale. I’d forgotten the magic in the holiday. Seeing them wishing for gifts and asking you for their heart’s desire…then they wanted to hug me. Just because I was dressed up in big red coat…I—”

“It’s the best thing on the planet. Seeing the wonder and joy in a child’s face.” He took a deep breath and his gaze flicked away from hers for a moment.

“You never had kids with your wife?”

“Carolyn Myers, the doctor will see you now,” a nurse called, approaching them with a wheelchair.

Peter stood quickly, then lifted her from her seat into the wheelchair.

“You like doing that don’t you?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“What?” he asked, innocence in his voice, but a smile dancing in his eyes.

“Mmmmhmmm.”

He grinned. “I’ll wait here for you.”

“You’re just avoiding my last question.”

He shrugged. “Probably.”

CHAPTER 7

T  he last thing he wanted to admit to Carolyn was that being in a hospital again terrified him. The astringent smells, the plain walls, and the sight of medical personnel made him want to retch everything he’d eaten that day.

Stepping into the ER with her in his arms had been one the hardest things he’d done. Since his wife had passed away, he’d only entered the hospital for one other person in the past fifteen years. Months ago when he’d taken Zoe Morgan to see her Grams. He’d felt the same nausea then as now, but he’d beaten it that day. Peter could conquer it again for Carolyn.

All those years of chemo and treatments with Diane had instilled an automatic sense of dread. If he could avoid hospitals and doctors’ offices for the rest of his life, it would be fine by him.

He wasn’t really trying to avoid Carolyn’s question about children. He just hadn’t wanted to go through those doors. There were too many terrible memories behind them.

They were the last thing he saw the night he lost Diane. He’d run out of the hospital and shouted at the sky. Cursing that she’d been taken from him so quickly. Angry that she’d had to fight so long and so hard only to have the cancer still win. They couldn’t beat it.

She’d gone into remission five times. Five times it’d come back with a vengeance.

That fifth time stole her from him in less than a week.

He pulled out his phone and browsed through messages while he waited. Played a few games of solitaire and texted a couple of the boys from the stable to bring his truck over to the hospital.

Twenty minutes later, Harvey had popped into the waiting area and handed off the keys. Peter thanked him and apologized for interrupting his day off, but Harvey had just smiled and said he wasn’t doing anything that Peter wouldn’t have done for him in a heartbeat.

When Carolyn’s voice called out to from across the lobby, his whole body heaved a sigh of relief. The same nurse was wheeling her toward him, but the tightness and obvious discomfort that had been in Carolyn’s face since he’d picked her up off her lawn was gone. Her eyes were slightly dilated and the smile on her face said they’d given her a good-sized dose of pain-killers.

“You came in with her, right?” the nurse asked.

“Yes, how is she?”

“It was a bad break. The doctor was able to set it, so she doesn’t need surgery, but it’s still very swollen and she’s not allowed to put any pressure on it. We will need to see her back in four to five days to put a hard cast on it once the swelling goes down. Will you be taking care of her, sir?”

“Yes, I’ll make sure she’s safely back home.”

“She was in a lot of pain.” The nurse handed him a small slip of paper. “We gave her a dose of hydrocodone already, but you will need to stop and get this prescription filled. She can take as needed, but no more than one pill every four to six hours.”

Peter took a deep breath and nodded.

“Did you know you are really cute in that Santa outfit?” Carolyn blurted, and started giggling.

He smiled down at her. “You are definitely feeling more relaxed.” Looking back at the nurse, he shoved the prescription slip into his back pocket. “Thank you. Can you wheel her to the door? I’ll just go get my truck.”

The nurse nodded and he hurried out into the dark. A chill still hung in the Texas air, but he liked the crispness. It wasn’t really winter yet, that wouldn’t hit until mid-January and February. December was generally pretty mild. The Santa outfit was almost too heavy.

He located the truck by clicking his fob a couple of times and listening for the beep. By the time he pulled up the drive in front of the ER doors, Carolyn appeared to be entertaining the nurse, because the poor woman doubled over and laughing hard.

“What?” he asked, strolling around the front of his truck toward them.

“She was just telling me how Santa ran her over and then saved her from a couple of wolves only to drag her to a party where a vet wrapped her leg until you could bring her here. It’s quite the tale.” The nurse smirked.

“It was an eventful day so far, I’ll have to admit,” he said, allowing the corners of his mouth to curve into a smile. “One of the horses in the Christmas Stroll got spooked by a car backfiring.”

“Yikes. Sound like you were lucky there weren’t more injuries.”

“Very.” He opened the passenger door and helped Carolyn into the seat. “Night.”

“Night,” the nurse called, turning and wheeling the chair back through the sliding glass doors.

He rounded the truck and climbed back into the drivers’ seat. Pulling out of the parking lot, Peter slowly made his way through town and the thickening dinner-time traffic. He stopped at the first corner store he came across went around to the pharmacy drive-thru. He’d have to get back out later and pick up her prescription.

A few minutes later, he pulled into the driveway of the only house on Third Street with no Christmas decorations.

“It’s depressing isn’t it?” Her voice was small, but the finality was what worried him.

“It’s never too late to change your mind. I have some extra decorations at my house I could bring over.”

After carrying her into the house and depositing her on the large brown couch in the center of the living room, she finally spoke again.

“I have all the stuff. It’s still in the attic.”

“Oh,” he said, digging around her kitchen cabinets and fridge for something he could cook up for her for dinner. The woman didn’t even have a loaf of bread. The fridge sported several takeout containers, a half empty carton of eggs, and a bottle of ketchup, mustard, mayo, some orange juice and several bottles of wine. “Carolyn, what do you usually eat for dinner?”

“The takeout menus are in the drawer,” she hollered from the living room.

Takeout…every night? “Now that is depressing.”

“You should find my Christmas tree and put it up. Would you do that for me? I really think I want a tree this year.”

“Sure.” Peter walked toward the couch.

Her eyes were closed and a small smile curved across her face. Dinner could wait. She deserved some rest.

He surveyed the room. Plain. Beige. Brown furniture with a few white accent pillows and a couple of lamps that looked like they were from a garage sale in the seventies. In fact, most of the furniture looked like it’d come from a flea market.

This room needed more than just a Christmas tree to breathe some life back into it.

CHAPTER 8

C arolyn opened her eyes and blinked. Lighted garland hung from the mantle above the fireplace. A large pine wreath sat above it. The fire was crackling below, giving off comforting waves of warmth from the bright red coals…like it had been burning for hours. How long had she been out? Where had all the Christmas stuff come from…her Christmas stuff.

She rubbed her eyes and groaned when she shifted her leg. Pain lanced through her body and she froze. As long as she was still, nothing hurt too much. The ache was there, but it was muddled through the drugs the hospital had given her.

Turning her head a little further, she opened her eyes again and gasped. A large Christmas tree sat completely decorated in the far corner of the living room. The colored lights blinked and threw festive patterns against the bare beige walls.

He’d found everything.

“Peter?”

She heard a rustle in the hallway and a loud thump as the attic door snapped back into place. Heavy footsteps approached on the hardwood floors. A moment later, Peter’s face appeared in her line of sight.

He wasn’t wearing a Santa costume any longer though. A pair of worn jeans, cowboy boots, and a red plaid flannel shirt had transformed her Holiday attacker/savior into an even more ruggedly handsome man. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled halfway up his forearms, revealing sinuous and well-defined muscles. It made her instantly wish for another reason to be cradled in those beautiful arms.

“You’re awake.”

“How long was I asleep?”

“Three hours. I hope you don’t mind. I went and picked up your pain meds, grabbed some groceries for a late dinner, and then started digging through your attic since you said you wanted me to put up the Christmas tree.”

“I said that?”

Peter’s face tightened and his smile flattened into a straight line. “Yes.” He set the box in his hands on the coffee table.

“It looks really nice. Thank you.”

His shoulders dropped and his smile returned instantly. He unfolded the flaps on the box and began pulling out the porcelain nativity scene her grandmother had given her when she got married.

It was beautiful. She’d forgotten.

“You didn’t have to do all this.”

“You’re not supposed to walk for seven days. I couldn’t let you have Christmas again without some holiday cheer, especially after you asked for the tree. I hope you don’t mind me taking the liberties with the rest of your things. Can I ask you a question, though?”

“Fire away.” Carolyn pulled herself up onto a throw pillow.

He carefully placed the nativity scene gently, piece by piece, across the long shelf of the mantle above the fireplace, then turned to face her. “Good?”

She smiled. “Perfect.”

He moved the box to the other side of the room and returned, taking a seat in the large recliner across from her, closer to the fire place. “Why is all your furniture so old? You have this beautiful historic house that I know cost quite a bit, but nothing matches, and it all seems very worn.”

Carolyn sighed. “My ex let me keep the house, but he took all the furniture. I replaced things with hand-me-downs from neighbors and cheap stuff at garage sales. It’s better than sitting on the floor…which I did do for nearly three months,” she added. “People felt sorry for me for the first few months, but after that…I just sorta drifted off their radar. I stopped going to church. Stopped meeting friends. I just stopped.” She rubbed her temples. “It was easier to disappear than fight to find a new way to live. Since I work from home…”

“It was too easy,” he filled in.

She nodded.

“So it took being run over by a horse to knock you out of your rut?”

“Actually, I think it was your dimples that did it,” she said, taking a risk with the admission. How would he respond? She was pretty sure he was interested, but she could be wrong. It wasn’t like she was an expert on men. She’d only ever been with one, and she hadn’t dated since she was a teenager. And that was over twenty-five years ago.

The small smile on his face broadened.

“What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Just brought up a memory.”

“Good?”

“Yeah, something my wife used to say. That my dimples were what she woke up every morning, and wanted to see first.”

“I’m sorry.” She glanced away and stared into the burning embers of the fire. Competing with a dead woman wasn’t really what she had in mind.

“Carolyn.”

She nearly jumped out of her skin. He was right next to her, sitting on the floor in front of the couch. When did he move?

“I loved my wife very dearly. She’s been gone for fifteen years, but I will always have a place for her in my heart. It doesn’t hurt to talk about her and I don’t want it to make you uncomfortable. She was one of the most joyful women I’ve ever known. Even when the cancer finally stole her away from me…” His eyes watered. “All I can see in my mind is her smile. She told me to keep my eyes forward and not dwell in the past. I haven’t done that very well, but today when I picked you up that very first time…I didn’t want to put you down.”

“I pretended to fight.”

“I know.”

“I haven’t been held by a man since my husband left me ten years ago.”

She gasped for a breath of air before his mouth descended on hers. Soft, but demanding. He crushed her lips and swept his tongue inside her open and willing mouth.

It’d been so long. He felt so good.

Peter slipped one arm beneath her torso and wrapped the other around the top, drawing her upper half closer to his chest, but not disturbing her legs.

His mouth moved from her lips to feather kisses along her jawline, down her neck and into the pulse points above her collarbone.

Her breasts ached and her nipples tightened inside her bra, becoming uncomfortable. She wanted more, but when she tried to move her leg, the pain was overwhelming. She winced and he moved his hand to her thigh, pushing her leg back flat on the couch.

“Not right now,” he whispered. “But I promise I’m not going anywhere. I fully intend to taste every inch of you.”

CHAPTER 9

Three months later…

“P eter?” Carolyn called from her bedroom.

He appeared in the doorway a moment later, all six feet of sexy cowboy, and all hers. She’d vowed to take that crazy mare of the VonBrandts an apple one day as a thank you, but they hadn’t made it out there yet.

Right now they were in the middle of packing her house and his. They were both moving forward and rather quickly. Six weeks after she’d gotten her cast off, they’d been married in small private ceremony in the Baptist Church in town. Now they were moving into a new home together.

Both of them decided they needed a fresh start, so they’d sold their houses and purchased a lovely home several blocks west of her old one. It was a fixer-upper, but she was really looking forward to sprucing it up to showcasing Peter’s personality as well as hers.

“This is the last box,” she said, taping it up. She sat on the bare mattress and stared out the window into what had been her back yard for the past twenty years.

“It’s hard to say goodbye, isn’t it.” Peter slid next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to his chest and tucking her head beneath his chin.

“I didn’t think it would be.”

“It’s okay to be sad. This was your home for a long time.”

“What about your house? Are you going to miss it?”

He gave her a squeeze. “Nope. Because I’m going to be making new memories with you. I can’t wait.”

She smiled. He always knew what to say. The man was a packed suitcase of positivity. How he’d survived what he had to be the man he was today was unfathomable, but she was so very grateful that he had.

If it hadn’t been for him, she might’ve lived the rest of her life in depressing solitude and self-pity, but Peter changed everything.

Waking up in his arms every morning was everything she could’ve ever hoped for. He’d given her so much more than love.

He’d given her new life.

He’d given her joy.

And she wanted to bathe in every glorious second.

Preferably in the tub with him.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Emma lives in Texas in a sprawling ranch style home with her husband, daughter, and a pack of rescue Basset Hounds. She is an advocate for the American Society of Autism and does her part to spread awareness about the disorders associated with the Autism, sharing the experiences she’s traversed with her daughter.

Needless to say, life is never boring when you have an elementary-aged child and four or five 4-legged friends roaming the house. They keep her and her husband busy, smiling, and laughing.

Her stories reflect her love for the Lone Star State, sexy cowboys, high-powered action, dogs, and romance.

P.S. She also writes paranormal romance as Krystal Shannan so if you need a little magick in your story, hop over and take a look.

Get a FREE book when you sign up to Emma’s newsletter!

www.emmaroman.com

Books by Emma

Somewhere, TX Bachelors Series

Can’t Get You Off My Mind (Dec 2015)

What’s Love Got To Do With It (Feb 2016)

You’re The One That I Want (March 2016)

Somewhere, TX Saga

A Wedding In Somewhere

The MacLaughlin Family Series

Trevor

Caiden

Harvey

Lizzy

www.emmaroman.com

MERRY TREXMAS

BY ALLIE K. ADAMS

Copyright © 2015 by Allie K. Adams

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

LICENSE NOTES: This Ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This Ebook may not be re-sold or given away to others. If you would like to share this book with others, please purchase an additional copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER

Allie K. Adams

www.alliekadams.com

Created with Vellum

FOREWORD

C hristmas turns to chaos when the senior agents of TREX get together in Seattle for the holidays. What’s a forced reunion without a little laughter, a few tears, and a couple fistfights?

AFTER TOO MANY hours under the same roof, too many alphas, and too little patience, tempers snap. The agents are out of their element in more ways than one, especially when the special director drops a bomb no one saw coming.

IT TAKES a 12-year-old autistic boy and his faithful companion to remind them all of the true meaning of Christmas. His appearance and the reason behind it reminds the agents why they’re together in the first place.

PREFACE

T  REX’S MISSION STATEMENT

TACTICAL RETRIEVAL EXPERTS (TREX) is a privately funded agency independent of law enforcement, military, or any governmental restrictions. Our focus is on tracking and retrieving anything or anyone. Simply put: we find things. Employing highly trained agents with unlimited resources and extensive experience in covert operations, we will find anything and with guaranteed confidentiality. No matter the circumstances. No matter the danger. Call on TREX—we find what’s been lost.

CHAPTER 1

Washington State Bureau of Investigation Special Agent Wayde Davis stood off from the rest of the group, his arms folded across his chest. Something was off. He couldn’t quite place it, which didn’t please him any. He might not have the uncanny ability to read people like his boss in TREX, but he could hold his own. As a dual agent between the two agencies, it was his job to pick up on a person’s tells. He used to be a member of the SBI’s Special Victims Unit taskforce, but after losing his partner last year and having the bureau bury the fact, he couldn’t make the jump to homicide fast enough. Now every victim would get justice—as would the killer.

His attention zeroed in on the living room. He’d never seen so many stockings crowding a fireplace mantle. It was a fire hazard having that much flammable material so close to open flames. Try telling that to the women hanging stockings of every shape and size—both the stockings and the women.

Wayde watched his wife alongside several TREX agents and their spouses, some of them TREX agents as well. Why the hell was his house ground zero for Christmas? An old friend had given the mansion on Lake Washington to him and Mia as a wedding present. They’d just celebrated their first year of marriage. He had hoped to take his wife away for the holidays, their final vacation before the baby came along. What right did TREX have crashing the party? Sure, TREX had used it as HQ during the mission he’d met Mia. That didn’t give them permission to use it as headquarters for a TREXmas gathering.

Mia laughed, the melody dancing in the air and in her pretty jade eyes. She made being five months pregnant look good. Then again, she made everything look good. So did JT Weber, one hell of a field agent and the only woman able to deal with Special Director Dan Weber on a regular basis.

Wayde tensed every time Weber’s daughter stumbled too close to anything dangerous. The giant Christmas tree. The corners of all the tables. The cage in front of the fireplace. Hell, everything was dangerous when it came to a two-year-old. Especially Weber’s two-year-old. That kid had no fear as she chased the four-year-old around the room. It scared the hell out of Wayde knowing he’d have his own kid by April. Maybe he should start thinking about what it would take to baby proof this place.

Using his shoulder, he propped himself against the wall and crossed his arms as he glanced out the large living room window overlooking the water. He couldn’t shake the unease. Something didn’t fit. Why would the special director of TREX’s frontline divisions invite the special director of TREX’s sideline divisions to spend Christmas in Seattle? Dan Weber might be peers with Malcolm McKoy, but it was no secret they didn’t like each other.

So why the invite? And why on God’s green earth did Malcom feel the need to cart all seven of his kids—all TREX agents but one—from Montana with him? As if it wasn’t already crowded enough with the Seattle-based agents here.

Spencer Allen, one of two Special Agents in Charge and Weber’s second-in-command, approached and mirrored Wayde’s stance. He gave Wayde a quick assessment with that smoky gaze. The SAC always noticed every detail. It came in handy on finds.

Right now, it was damn annoying.

“What?” Wayde snapped, immediately on the defensive. He didn’t trust Spencer when he looked at him like that.

“I didn’t say anything,” Spencer mused and tipped his lips into a grin.

“You didn’t have to.”

Spencer chuckled and shook his head. “Are there any circumstances where you actually enjoy yourself anymore? Or is that scowl permanent?”

“Don’t bust my balls. I don’t see why everyone has to congregate here.”

“You could have said no.”

Wayde looked at him. “Yeah, right. And end up with shit jobs for the next ten years? No, thank you.”

“You have the biggest place to house all these McKoys.”

“No shit,” Wayde chuckled. “There are a mess of them.”

“If not here, we would have had to clear out your old apartment building. The TREX agents living there wouldn’t have been too happy about that. Well, except for Jason Bowman. He’s got a thing for one of the McKoys. Now that he’s got his own place, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind sharing it with Bailey.”

Ah, the old apartment building. It would have ended up bankrupting Wayde had TREX not stepped in to take it off his hands and transform it into housing for agents. They’d retrofitted it with only the best in high-end security. Some units were used as safe houses, as well. It was that secure. Wayde had been thrilled happy to sell it to TREX.

“You want to tell me what’s got you so uptight?” Allen asked when Wayde didn’t so much as crack a smile at his comment. “Well, at least more uptight than usual.”

“Not really.”

“How about you try anyway.”

Wayde sighed. “I want to know why everyone is here. It bugs the hell out of me that I can’t figure out why Weber invited Malcolm McKoy. Sure, I may have the biggest house, but that doesn’t explain the why behind bringing everyone together like some damn family reunion.”

“We’re all TREX.”

“That doesn’t explain why both directors are here. Why not Montana? That’s where half these people are from anyway.”

“Take a look around,” Spencer said and nodded at the frenzy of activity in the living room. David Snyder, the other SAC in TREX’s frontline division and Dan’s closest friend, sat on the couch and watched his twins. The boys were locked behind a set of adjustable plastic gates locked together to make a giant playpen in the corner, throwing whatever they could at the adults. A four-year-old boy weaved in and out of everyone’s legs like a damn cat, retrieving toys and tossing them back into the pen. A little two-year-old girl followed him around like a lost puppy. They’d been at it for hours.

At least the youngest of the guests had finally cried herself to sleep. The screaming over everything else was like nails on a chalkboard. Just the thought of what Wayde was in for when he and Mia became parents had him close to stroking out.

His wife laughed at something JT said before pulling Spencer’s wife into the conversation. The three huddled and then regarded the men. Wayde and Spencer exchanged glances. Why the hell were they looking at them like that? The women laughed again and went back to hanging more stockings.

Bethany McKoy waddled in from the kitchen, a glass of milk in one hand and a cookie in the other. The baby she had cooking in there had to be close to popping out. Her husband Chris sat on the couch next to David and lit up the instant he spotted her. She rested on his lap and fed him some of her cookie. The wheelchair he still needed from time to time was a constant reminder of the spinal injury that’d left him permanently disabled.

The youngest of the McKoys, twins Bailey and Kaylee, sat at the large dining table with their brothers, playing some card game that forced them to shout out bullshit on occasion and earn glares from the mothers each and every time. Malcolm McKoy was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Director Dan, which sent Wayde’s guard inching higher. Where the hell were they?

“Chaos,” Wayde grunted. “That’s what I see.”

“I see family.” Spencer pushed away from the wall and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “I see TREX agents, some who’ve gone through hell and back. Others who have yet to get sucked into the one mission that changes them. I see men and women making the best of their time on this rock. You know what I don’t see?”

“Enlighten me.”

“Anyone miserable on Christmas—well, except for you. Our wives haven’t stopped smiling. Bethany hasn’t stopped eating.” They both chuckled. “Bailey just went through a breakup. You don’t see her moping.”

“The Bowman guy?”

“You don’t miss much,” he mused. “Jason Bowman. David bent my ear for an hour bitching about that guy. Apparently Jason and Bailey have a thing.”

“What kind of thing?”

“An off again, on again thing. Hell if I know. That’s what he called it before threatening to kill Jason for making Bailey cry.” He fell silent as he followed his son’s movements, the two-year-old right on the boy’s heels. The twin boys reached for the toddlers as more toys joined the others, both inside the pen and out. “My point is, we’re all together. Take advantage of it. You never know when fate will step in and change it all.”

Odd comment. Wayde faced Spencer and narrowed his gaze. The man shifted his eyes, avoiding his. “What aren’t you telling me? There’s a reason Weber invited McKoy. What is it?”

“What was that, Kathryn?” Spencer called out to his wife. Everyone else called her Kat. “Sure, I’ll get you some eggnog.”

“Oh, me too.” Chris lifted his empty glass. “Make mine leaded.”

“Chicken shit,” Wayde muttered lightly as Spencer marched off to carry out his duties.

It still bugged him he didn’t know where the directors had disappeared to.

His phone buzzed. Thank God. At least now he had an excuse to escape from all the noise. He hurried into the den and closed the door before checking the number. Alarms screamed in his brain. Why would his director at the SBI be calling him? Could this be the reason he’d felt off ever since his guests arrived? “Davis.”

“It’s Lawson.”

“It’s Christmas Eve,” Wayde countered. “Why are you calling? Don’t tell me another church was robbed.”

“Worse. We’ve got a body.”

Well, hell. He would have taken the robbery over this. He tensed, readying himself to escape the chaos that had taken over his home. As soon as he thought of Mia, of the way she hadn’t stopped smiling since the first guest arrived, it gave him pause. If he left now, there’d be hell to pay when he returned, not to mention how many TREX agents would insist on tagging along.

“I know you’re off,” Lawson went on. “But, considering your, uh, connections…”

“Why do you need TREX’s help?” Wayde closed his eyes and pinched the skin between his eyes. The minute Lawson had learned of all the dual agents within the SBI, he never hesitated to tap into the additional resources.

“We need all hands on deck on this one. Besides, you have a connection to the vic. Carmen Ramirez was found dead tonight.”

Why did he know that name? As soon as it came to him, he inhaled sharply. Vixens. That damn club and the underground sex ring Wayde had broken up had drawn in every man this side of the Rockies. His partner Rhonda used to talk about Carmen as one of the girls who’d wanted out—and then she’d disappeared and Rhonda had ended up dead. TREX had found her, along with a dozen other women, locked in a cellar.

Carmen’s was the story the other women had hoped to have someday. Innocent woman drugged and sold off to the highest bidder for sex every night is rescued and turns her life around, becoming the face of hope. Of recovery. Of proof something good could come from such horror. This was going to devastate Mia.

“What happened?”

“Apparent suicide. She dove off her second-story balcony.”

Wayde closed his eyes and ground out a curse. She’d been doing so well and had even reconnected with her little brother. It must not have been enough. Deep down, she still battled the demons the rest of the women battled each and every day. He had to find a way to tell Mia before she heard it on the news. Until then, he’d gather as much information as he could. “What do you need?”

“I need TREX to find her little brother. He’s missing. We think he saw the whole thing and took off, unable to process it. He’s autistic and has limited communication. According to the beat cop who walks him home sometimes, he talks to his dog more than he talks to humans. It’s twenty degrees outside. If this kid is out there…”

“He’ll freeze to death if we don’t step in.”

CHAPTER 2

M ia Davis she closed her eyes, conjuring up Carmen’s pretty face. Her smile had been contagious. She’d talked about her little brother all time, about how proud she was that he’d participated in gym class without having a meltdown or had said thank you without being prompted. Things Mia took for granted.

Her heart hurt for Hunter. He was out there in this freezing cold, snow falling off and on, alone and scared. And on Christmas Eve, of all days. She shuddered and hugged herself.

“His name is Hunter Ramirez.” It made sense for Kat, the head of TREX’s Search and Rescue unit, to take point, her husband Spencer at her side. She pointed at the large flat screen in the den. The image of a kid with oversized front teeth and an awkward smile on his face took up the entire TV. “Twelve years old. Brown hair and eyes. He struggles with social cues and is scared of strangers, so you may have to speak to his beagle, Buster, in order to get Hunter to talk. Call for Buster when you’re out there. Hunter won’t answer if you call for him. Now, I’ve set up the grid to start here.”

“We’ll find him,” JT assured Mia and pulled her into her arms, holding her close. “I promise, Mia. It’ll be okay.”

Why did TREX insist on making promises they’d never have the power to keep? It wouldn’t be okay. Not for Carmen, who now lay in the morgue. Not for Hunter, who might soon join his sister. Mia buried her face against JT’s shoulder and fought the tears threatening to break her.

“Let’s go.” Spencer gave the order. The TREX agents scattered, leaving Mia standing there, numb and helpless. Wayde had already left to join his SBI unit at the scene of Carmen’s death to comb for clues and rule out murder. It was routine for a team of homicide agents to make an appearance at all scenes.

The den, now dark and eerily silent, closed in on her. She didn’t want to stay in this room and left to find something warm to drink. Absentmindedly rubbing her belly, protecting the baby growing inside her, she walked into the kitchen to find the oldest of the McKoy kids already there, heating water in the kettle.

“Hey, I’m making tea.” Charis smiled at Mia, something she always did. Smile. With dark brown hair and deep indigo eyes—traits she shared with all her siblings—she’d hit the gene pool lottery. Charis and her twin Chris got the curls. While her brother kept his hair short, Charis let hers grow long and wild. “You and Bethany get decaf for obvious reasons. Kat prefers OJ.”

“Thank you,” Mia whispered, not having the strength for anything else. One of the women they’d risked their lives to rescue had just taken hers. Tea wasn’t going to make this situation any better. Nothing would.

“That didn’t take long,” Spencer said loud enough for everyone else to hear. He poked his head into the kitchen and rested his attention on Mia. “Wayde found him and is on his way here.”

“Here?” A jolt of surprise rocked her. Why would he bring the boy here?

“It’s Christmas Eve,” Charis pointed out and handed her a steaming cup. “The chances they’ll find a social worker are slim to none, let alone one with the skills to handle a special needs case.”

Kaylee McKoy walked into the kitchen and grabbed a Diet Pepsi out of the fridge. “Even if they did find a case worker, they’d never find a place to house him tonight, not even temporarily. Foster care is tough enough without adding a kid who thinks differently.” She cracked open the soda and took a long drink.

“What kind of special needs?” Mia asked. Before anyone answered, the front foyer erupted with shouts. There was a crash and a scream. Spencer disappeared, as did Kaylee. Mia and Charis hurried after them and skidded to a stop.

A kid covered in dirt and grime, his lips blue and teeth chattering, thrashed against the men trying to subdue him. He screamed over and over, the sound heartbreaking and frightening at the same time.

“Stop it!” Kaylee shouted. When no one listened, the petite and youngest McKoy shoved her way into the frenzy of testosterone, not hesitating to use her fists, elbows, and whatever else she needed to get to Hunter. “Can’t you see you’re scaring him? Stand down! Stand the hell down!”

Hunter shrank into the corner, his wide gaze jumping from man to man before resting on Kaylee. When she eased forward a step, he pushed himself tighter into the corner. She froze and asked, “Where’s Buster?”

“Right here,” Wayde answered as he walked in, a beagle in his arms. The dog squirmed and jumped down, immediately rushing to Hunter’s side and standing between his master and the strangers surrounding them.

Hunter seemed to calm as he lowered to his knees and stroked Buster’s head. To Mia’s shock, Kaylee did the same and petted the dog. They didn’t say anything, just knelt facing each other, running their hands down the beagle’s back.

“Do you have any idea what’s happening?” Wayde asked Mia.

“Buster is Hunter’s therapy dog. I remember Carmen mentioning it during one of the group sessions. She thought having a therapy dog might help some of the women cope with what they’d been through.”

He wrapped his arm around her and casually placed her behind him. “Why don’t you fix him a plate of leftovers?”

“I can do that.”

“Buster, too.”

She nodded and returned to the kitchen. By the time she had a plate heaping with turkey and all the trimmings, Kaylee had Hunter at the sink washing his hands and face. She didn’t touch him, instead demonstrating what she wanted him to do. They still hadn’t said one word to each other.

Mia set one plate on the table and the other on the floor. Once Buster made a beeline for the food, Hunter took a seat at the table and grabbed the fork. Wayde tensed behind her.

“Relax,” she said for his ears only. “He’s not going to take out a room full of TREX agents with a fork.”

“I didn’t know where else to bring him.”

“You did the right thing. He’s safe here. So are we.”

He kissed the back of her neck. “Lawson is on his way over with a couple unis to question him.”

“Call them off,” the special director said as he finally made an appearance at his own party, his attention on Hunter. “The boy isn’t about to talk to anyone in a uniform. Look at him.”

“He’s not on display.” Kaylee glanced over her shoulder, addressing the crowd that had pushed into the room. It was a large kitchen, but then again, TREX guys weren’t small. When no one moved, she grabbed Buster’s plate. “Come on, Hunter. Let’s eat out there where we won’t have an audience.”

Without a word, Hunter followed her, plate in hand, head down. Weber snagged Wayde’s gaze. “Do you want to tell me what the hell that was about?”

“The kid had nowhere else to go.”

“So you bring him to a TREX briefing? Are you mental?”

“Is that what this is?” Wayde challenged. “A briefing usually involves one party telling everyone else what’s going on.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You invite everyone here and then disappear. I don’t know why you even bothered if you didn’t plan to take part.”

“You don’t know why because it’s above your paygrade, Agent Davis.”

“I’m not Agent Davis right now, and I’m not about to let you call the shots. Not in my own house. What aren’t you telling us?”

The director stormed out, leaving the rest of the agents all exchanging confused glances. As the silence grew, so did the tension. The looks of confusion transformed into glares and hardened expressions. Charis and Mia exchanged nervous looks and both retreated a step.

“I’m going to check on the boys,” Charis said and left the room.

“Typical,” Wayde growled.

“What did you just say?” David Snyder stepped into Wayde’s personal space. “Do you have a problem with my wife?”

Wayde didn’t back away. “Not your wife. I have a problem with your BFF, Weber. Once again, the special director is keeping something from the rest of us. Not exactly the best way to run things.”

“Watch what you say about him. Holiday or not, he’s still your boss.”

“As am I.” Spencer stepped between them before one of them threw a punch. “Stand down, both of you.” He sighed, looking tired. “That’s an order.”

“Figures you’d defend your pet project.”

Now Spencer faced David. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Wayde isn’t spec ops material, and you know it. Weber never even wanted him in TREX, and I trust our director’s judgment.”

“Over mine? Is that what you’re saying?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. You’ve been going against him for a while now. Trying to get him to step down on that find by invoking Rule #202 like he’d lost his goddamn mind was another nail in the coffin.”

Spencer stiffened as his features turned to stone. He then recovered and defended his position. “He’s gotten worse, and you know it.”

“It’s because recruiting all these new people is diluting the agency. That’s why Weber is so selective over who he lets in. You need to trust him. He’s the director for a reason.”

“Yeah, because the last director died.”

David’s spine went ramrod straight. His usually jovial expression immediately hardened, as did his eyes. “You know what a piece of shit Donovan was. Who the hell are you to insinuate Weber took him out to get his job?”

“Boys,” JT said softly and stepped between them. “Spence isn’t insinuating anything.” She gave him a warning look. “Isn’t that right?” Spencer nodded curtly. She regarded David. “Why are you so upset about this?”

“I can’t believe you’re taking his side. He’s considering having Wayde replace Chris on TREX Team Two.”

“What else is he supposed to do? He needs a complete team.”

“Are you saying I’m not a complete man?” Chris demanded, his jaw set. He used the forearm crutches to pull him closer. “Just because I can’t walk without help doesn’t make me any less of an agent.”

“That’s not what I said.” JT shook her head. “I don’t even know how you made that leap. If you have a problem with the man you are now, deal with it, but don’t pretend you’re fine and then take it out on everyone else.”

“Just because you’re sleeping with the boss doesn’t give you the right to talk to my brother like that,” Bailey cut in.

“Excuse me?” JT turned to her. “He’s not the boss to me. He’s my husband.”

“I hate this agency,” Mitch, the only McKoy kid not in TREX, snarled before jumping his gaze around to the others.

“That’s only because you can’t get into it,” Spencer fired back.

“Now just a damn minute.”

“Let’s just calm down,” Mia said, but it had already escalated. They all grew louder and louder as the insults got more personal. JT and Bailey looked ready to draw claws. David defended Chris while Spencer defended Wayde. Mitch spewed venom about how much he hated TREX. Seth and Logan were the smart ones and had already left the room.

“Screw this!” Wayde shouted above everyone else. “I want you all out.”

“Wayde!” Mia’s jaw dropped. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

“And I’m done with this bullshit. Why force us all together if it’s obvious we don’t get along?”

“For once, I agree with Wayde.” David thrust out his chin. “As soon as I can find a hotel, we’ll be out of here.”

“Get Bethany and me a room, too. I’m not sticking around to listen to any more of this shit.” Chris pulled himself out of the kitchen behind David.

Kat, who’d remained silent the entire argument, approached her husband. “It’s not that long of a drive back to Olympia. I’ll wake Emily if you get Jack ready. Are you okay to drive?”

“I’m a little tired. Let me talk to Wayde.” Spencer kissed her forehead. After she left, he regarded Wayde. “Overreact much?”

“Sorry, Spence. I’m just so damn tired of the bickering. We’re all adults. Can’t we act like it?”

“And you thought tossing everyone out on Christmas Eve was acting like an adult?”

“Touché.”

“Should I bring everyone back in so you can yell at them again? This time you can just shout a single apology.”

“No,” Wayde chuckled and shook his head. “I was a global asshole. I’ll make my apology a little more personal.”

“Before you go, there’s something I want to discuss with you.” He drew in several breaths and ran his fingers through his hair. “I guess the cat’s out of the bag. I had hoped to do this under better circumstances. I’d like to offer you a spot on Team Two.”

“Isn’t that special operations?” Mia asked, not bothering to hide the worry in her tone. TREX’s spec ops teams put themselves in the most danger and were gone for weeks at a time. She liked having a husband.

“There’s a lot of training involved before he’d be field ready,” Spencer explained. “We’re expanding spec ops by four more teams.” He looked at Wayde. “That’s why the directors brought us here. They wanted us to work together on the dynamics of the new teams.”

Wayde lowered his head. “A lot of good that did us. All it did was prove we can’t work together at all. Forcing a bunch of hardheaded men and women together without telling them why was a disaster waiting to happen. Add one little twist in the form of a terrified kid…”

“Instant explosion,” Spencer finished and sighed.

CHAPTER 3

K  aylee sat at the table with Hunter, petting Buster and rolling her eyes as insult after insult flew from the lips of TREX agents scared of a kid. Give them guys with guns, weapons of mass destruction, terrorist threats. No problem. Give them one little boy they couldn’t reach with threats and they were out of their element.

“Buster thinks it’s too noisy in here. Why is everyone yelling?” Hunter asked as he kept his focus on the dog.

“Because they’re all dumb.”

He nodded. “Were they always dumb like me?”

“You?” Kaylee blew out a breath and smiled play down his comment even though deep inside she seethed. So, his mind may not work like everyone else’s. So, he needed a dog to help him communicate. That didn’t make him dumb. She hated labels. “You may be the smartest person in the room.”

“I’m not smart.”

“You’re not dumb,” she countered sternly. “Adults turn dumb when they grow up. That’s why you’re the smartest one here.”

“What happens when I grow up?” His mouth fell open as he blinked rapidly. Just the thought of growing up, growing dumb, clearly terrified him.

“Don’t grow up.”

His jaw dropped lower as his eyes rounded. “Is that possible?”

“Anything is possible. Look at me. I’m never growing up.” And she meant it. Age was just a number. She refused to turn into Mrs. Apron and Pearls. If she ended up with a house on the hill, it would be turned into an animal shelter. She embraced her future of being the neighborhood crazy cat lady. And dog lady. And any other four-legged-friend lady.

It irritated her to no end how society labeled Hunter as dumb or an idiot simply because he didn’t learn at the same pace as someone else. Fish couldn’t climb trees. Monkeys couldn’t swim. Forcing them to do something so unnatural made no sense, but swap the two scenarios and they were animals in their element. That was Hunter. He was a monkey who just needed to find the right tree instead of being forced to swim.

If only humans were as compassionate and tolerant as animals.

“I’m never growing up,” Hunter repeated her words and followed his statement with a nod. More yelling, this time from Bailey as she called her on-again, off-again boyfriend several four-letter words. She stormed off and slammed a door, the phone firmly plastered to her ear. Hunter stared at the door. “Everyone looks mad.”

“They’re always mad.”

“At me.” It didn’t come out as a question, which only irritated Kaylee more. This kid had zero self-esteem, more than likely due to person after person labeling him as dumb, slow, or an idiot all because he learned differently. She hated people.

“Nope. They were mad before you got here.”

“Why? It’s Christmas. Buster thinks being mad on Christmas is like hating your own birthday.”

“Because of the presents?”

He shook his head and rubbed the beagle’s chin. Buster sighed contently and closed his eyes. “Presents don’t matter. They get lost or stolen. Not family. Sisters still hug you after you break the new TV. You still get a piece of pie even if you didn’t eat all your dinner. That’s because it’s Christmas. That’s why no one should be mad.”

“See?” Kaylee smiled wide, absolutely head-over-heels for this kid. “You really are the smartest person here.”

He grinned and nodded sheepishly. “I’m just Hunter.”

Her brother Seth joined them, followed by her brother Logan. Seth sat closest to the kid. “Looks like someone was hungry.” Hunter didn’t respond. Kaylee knew he wouldn’t, not until he had something to say. “Hunter, do you know what Asperger’s is? Or High-Functioning Autism? Has anyone ever used those terms with you before?”

Oh, hell no. Kaylee was fine until Seth started in with the terms to define Hunter. It immediately ticked her off. Who was he to slap a label on anyone? Sure, he was a doctor, but that didn’t give him the right. It didn’t give any doctor the right.

Doctor after doctor had tried to define what caused her to not speak until she was almost five. She didn’t pick up on social cues as any normal child would. She hated to be hugged. She hated to be touched. Period. That didn’t make her any less normal.

When the doctors diagnosed her with Asperger’s, her mother refused to let it define anything. Not a damn thing. Kaylee hadn’t received any special treatment growing up and didn’t expect any as a TREX agent. Years of behavioral therapy, of all the doctors telling her to do more of this and less of that, still drummed in her brain after all this time.

And still she wasn’t anything closer to normal.

It was unfair, the labels society placed on anyone outside the acceptable norm. She refused to let another kid go through too many years of being told he wasn’t normal, that something was wrong with him. They’d put him in special classes instead of teach him the way he learned. They’d write him off as mental all because they couldn’t understand him. Asshats.

“He may not understand what’s really going on,” Seth explained.

She’d had enough and snapped, “How would you know?”

“This isn’t the same thing as what you have.”

“Again, how would you know?” She stared him down, something she’d always been able to do. What she had? Please. He had no idea what it was like growing up and failing every social encounter. Everyone loved Seth. Everyone thought Kaylee was weird. “You’ve said like two dozen words to him. That’s hardly enough for a diagnosis.”

“Come on, Kaylee.” Logan defended Seth. Of course. “He’s just trying to help.”

“Sure,” she laughed hollowly and rolled her eyes. “By labeling him?”

“It’s not a personal attack,” Chris explained after joining them at the table. “This has nothing to do with you or what your doctors said. Seth isn’t labeling anyone. He’s not that kind of doctor. Do you remember what I call normal?”

She eventually nodded and dropped her attention to her lap. “It’s just a setting on the dishwasher.”

She might have a great stare down, but Chris owned it. That stare also calmed her down enough to realize she’d missed yet another social cue.

“That’s a big tree.” Hunter asked and nodded at the gigantic tree in the corner of the living room. “Lots of presents.”

“It’s Christmas,” Chris explained. “Do you celebrate Christmas?” Hunter nodded slightly but said nothing. “Have you ever had a tree?”

He shook his head. “Buster is scared of squirrels. They hide in the trees like in that movie.”

“What movie?”

Hunter didn’t answer.

“It’s okay,” Kaylee urged. “You see all these big, ugly guys sitting at the table with us?” Hunter quickly scanned and nodded. “They’re my brothers. That guy off in the corner pouting is also my brother. The woman with the curly hair is my sister.”

“Her babies look the same.”

“They’re twins. I’m a twin. So is that one.” She nodded at Chris. “In fact, he’s my sister’s twin.”

Hunter twisted his expression as he studied Chris. “He’s a boy.”

“Boys and girls can be twins, too. They don’t have to look alike.”

Hunter looked up, holding her gaze for a few seconds. It was the longest he’d looked at anyone so far. “Is yours a boy?”

Kaylee grinned. “Nope. I have another sister.”

“Seven,” he muttered. “Big tree for a big family. Ten aren’t family. Even more kids.” Hunter smiled. “Need a bigger tree.”

They all laughed, causing Hunter to grin even more. The McKoys got what it was like growing up with a special needs sibling. Kaylee had struggled, but with the help of her brothers and sisters, she’d had all the support she needed.

She nodded, understanding Hunter a little more every time he talked. Most people with Asperger’s had at least one thing that set them apart, at least one thing that scored off the charts. For her, it was protective instincts. For Hunter, it looked like the power of observation. He didn’t talk much and didn’t need to. He was too busy watching.

“Well, that’s awesome. There’s no vacancy anywhere,” David announced as he paced in front of the tree. “I’m half-tempted to drive back to Montana tonight.”

“You’d be driving by yourself.” Charis sat cross-legged in the playpen and helped her boys build with blocks. “We aren’t going anywhere.”

“Charis, sweetheart.”

“Don’t sweetheart me,” she sang and set a block on top of the stack. “You lost your temper. You fix it. Don’t drag us into it.”

David set his jaw. “You don’t know what Wayde said.”

“I don’t care what he said,” she countered. “We are guests in his house and will remain that way until we leave the day after tomorrow. Find a way to kiss and make up.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Mitch grumbled. “Snyder doesn’t ever admit when he’s wrong.”

“Because I so rarely am.”

That comment earned groans and eye rolls all around.

“You were in the wrong,” Chris said to David.

“I was defending you, asshole.”

“Doesn’t make what you said to Wayde anywhere closer to right.”

David muttered something about ungrateful bastards and blew out a long breath before joining his wife and kids in the playpen. He immediately smiled when one of his boys backed up into his lap. That was more like it. She preferred happy humans to what so many had turned into tonight.

Dan stormed up the stairs, his wife on his heels. The director didn’t look happy. “We’re not leaving, JT. That’s final.”

“You’re not listening.”

“You’re right.” He stopped and whipped around. When she ran into him, he grasped her shoulders. “I’m not going to break up the team.”

“We’re not a team. David is being a complete ass.”

“I’m right here,” he growled and narrowed his eyes at her.

JT ignored him as she continued to vent to her husband in front of everyone. “I think we should go.”

“Not happening,” Dan snapped and stormed off into the den. She followed him and slammed the door.

“The adults don’t sound happy.” Hunter pointed out the obvious when the tense silence grew too much.

“I don’t think any of the adults are happy,” Mitch commented.

“Are you an adult?”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Only when I have to be.”

Hunter grinned. “Buster has to pee.”

“I’ll take him out,” Logan offered as he stood. “I could use some air.”

“I’ll take Hunter,” Mitch added without skipping a beat and stood as well. “Come on, little man.”

Hunter tensed and leaned toward Kaylee. She nodded in reassurance. “He’s my brother, remember? And he’s a cop, which means he’s one of the good guys. Don’t worry, buddy. We’ll all still be here when you’re done.”

“Promise?” He shot her a quick look, pleading with her to not leave him. It broke her heart.

“Promise,” she whispered, not trusting her voice.

“Carmen promised and she’s gone now.”

That comment broke her. She dropped her gaze before the emotions swelling in her eyes gave her away.

“We’re not going anywhere, buddy.” Mitch nodded for Hunter to follow. He’d always been able to talk to Kaylee, too. Tolerance and patience must go with the badge. “Except the bathroom. Come on. You can clean up a little, too. Sound good?”

Hunter went with Mitch while Seth went with Logan to take the dog outside, leaving Chris at the table with Kaylee. He studied her before saying, “You connect with him.”

“Because I’m not scared of him.” She related with him. She knew how terrifying it was to not understand when to say something and when to remain silent. She knew the struggles of not comprehending social cues or when someone was joking. She knew what it was like to grow up being the weird kid no one wanted to pick for their group. If she could make a difference in Hunter’s life, make sure he felt wanted if only for the here and now, she’d do it.

“I’m not scared,” Chris defended quickly. “Why would I be scared of a kid?”

“He’s different. God forbid you relate to that.” She glanced at the crutches leaning against the chair.

“Low blow, brat.”

She smiled sweetly. “I only speak the truth.”

“One of your many annoying traits,” Bailey teased as she sat next to her twin and leaned her head on Kaylee’s shoulder. “He asked me to be his plus one again.”

“And you turned him down.” She didn’t have to ask. Her sister was her own worst enemy with her rigid rules and the way she pushed people away. Jason loved her. Everyone knew it, even Bailey. It was the thought of being with a field agent that scared her. Too bad. They were actually great together. He didn’t put up with her shit.

“He knows better,” she whined in a huff. “We agreed to keep it casual. No strings.”

“Sounds like he wants strings. Who knows? Maybe you’ll use them to string a guitar and make beautiful music together. Would strings be so bad?”

“Yes.” Bailey was the only one Kaylee didn’t mind hugging her. Being stuck in the womb together for nine months and out for twenty-five years had gotten her used to her sister’s touch. “I can’t get serious with a frontline agent.”

“What’s wrong with a frontline agent?” Chris asked, offended.

Bailey lifted her head and stole a quick glance at the crutches. Shaking her head, she dropped her gaze behind a curtain of hair. Chicken.

“It’s fine.” Wayde spoke into his phone as he walked out of the kitchen. “Mia wants Hunter to stay. Trust me, Lawson. She gets whatever she wants. Happy wife…”

“Happy life,” Chris and David finished along with Wayde. They all chuckled.

Wayde went on. “I’ve got a house full of TREX agents. Hunter will be safe here for the next day or two. Give the social worker the night off. Who? I’ve never heard of Miles Anthony. Is he someone famous? No kidding? Right here in Seattle?”

“Miles Anthony?” Charis perked up. “What about him?”

“You know who that is?”

“We have several of his prints.” David glanced up as well. “He’s right up there with Ansel Adams with his black and whites. It’s too bad he doesn’t do them much anymore. I guess he owns a modeling studio now. Still shoots in black and white, which is weird since all the model crap is in color.”

“It’s not crap,” Bailey defended. “Miles Anthony is all about capturing the inner beauty. He dresses down his models. Makes them plain. Which, in turn…”

“Makes them even more beautiful,” Kaylee finished. “He cuts out everything fake, leaving the raw image.”

David stood and brushed a half-eaten cracker off his backside. “Why do you ask?”

“Apparently Hunter’s sister was a model at the Miles Anthony studio downtown.” Wayde nodded at something the caller said. “Right, that’s the angle I’m thinking, too. It just got too much for her. Yeah, I feel for the kid. Okay. Thanks, Banks. Merry Christmas to you, too.” He ended the call and met the eyes of everyone now watching him. “That was Greg Banks in homicide. M.E. preliminarily ruled it a suicide. No sign of foul play. No forced entry. He’ll determine whether to officially rule suicide as COD tomorrow, but he’s pretty sure it is.”

“Selfish,” Kaylee muttered through clenched teeth. When Chris and Bailey both glanced at her, she shook her head, disgusted. She was done socializing and wanted to find a corner to hide in. What kind of sister was Carmen Ramirez to leave her kid brother, especially by killing herself? “I need some air.”

“Don’t run away,” Hunter said from behind her. She jerked her head up, surprised to see him there. He shook his head as he kept his attention on her. He never looked at her for that long. “Never run away.”

“Isn’t that what you did?”

“Kaylee,” Bailey reprimanded.

“What?” Of course, she’d missed yet another cue. Seeing that look of disappointment in her sister’s eyes twisted in her stomach. She dropped her gaze and delivered the one word in her vocabulary she used more than any other. “Sorry.”

“Buster ran,” Hunter explained. “Not away. Never away. I told him to find help. He found you.”

CHAPTER 4

Dan Weber sat off in the corner, staring at his reflection in one of the giant silver balls decorating the tree. Maybe it was a mistake bringing several of his senior agents together like this. He had hoped bringing them together would, well, bring them together. The team dynamics had taken a dive the past couple years. The tension had never been higher.

And it was his fault.

He needed to be a better director but didn’t know how. Hell, he’d never been much of a leader. He preferred to work alone. That way he wouldn’t have to argue with SACs, deal with pain-in-the-ass agents, or bury his best friend.

It was his fault the team had fallen apart. They couldn’t even spend a single evening together without it turning into WWIII. He’d done nothing but bark at everyone, glare at them when he couldn’t think of anything to say, or simply ignore them. No wonder they were at each other’s throats. That’s exactly how Dan directed.

He slid his lids closed and leaned his head against the wall as he sat on the floor. This had sounded like such a great idea when he’d pitched it to Malcolm McKoy. With threats multiplying like rabbits, TREX needed to be more proactive in the agency’s approach. Homeland Security had already beefed up several of its units. So had the FBI, CIA, and numerous other alphabet agencies. TREX used to be the forerunner in everything and had fallen behind. They were privately funded, so he couldn’t use budget concerns as an excuse.

It was him.

Which brought him full circle to why he’d wanted them all together. Dan and Malcolm both agreed to expand the agency. Vic Greene, the guy signing their paychecks, had approved the new org chart. The board had signed off on bringing in more agents.

Now he had to inform his senior agents they’d be losing agents to other teams, gaining new agents to train, and even sending existing agents back to Gahanna, TREX’s training camp, to learn new skills.

His SACs knew. Since David knew, that mean Charis knew. If Charis knew, the rest of the McKoys knew, too. Judging by the way Wayde kept stealing glances Spencer’s way like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how, he knew, too. It was time to tell the rest of the group which, ironically, left his wife as the last person to break the news to.

As Dan opened his eyes, he was surprised to find the kid sitting next to him. How’d he sneak up on him? Was he losing his touch? He’d always been able to bank on his ability to sense danger, read people, and pull miracles out of his ass. Why was the kid just sitting there? It bugged the shit out of him not being able to read this one.

“Can I help you with something?” he finally asked when the silence grew deafening.

“No.” He stared at the presents under the tree.

Ah, hell. This kid would wake up on Christmas morning and watch as everyone else opened presents, not having one damn present of his own. No kid should ever wake up to that. Dan made a mental note to change a few of the names on the packages so Hunter had something to open tomorrow. The generic gifts he’d gotten for most of the agents could easily be given to a twelve-year-old.

Which said something about the gifts Dan had picked out. Actually, he hadn’t picked them out. He’d asked JT to grab a handful of gloves, scarves, and hats. Jesus, even his gift-giving sucked ass.

“Buster thinks there are lots of presents,” Hunter pointed out as he played with one of the ornaments.

“There are lots of people,” Dan bounced back. “I bet Santa will leave a few for you under the tree.”

Hunter shook his head. “I know the secret.”

“What secret?”

“There’s no Santa. Carmen told me. That’s the other reason why we never had a tree. We couldn’t pay for presents to put under it.”

What the hell? Who tells a kid there’s no Santa? And no tree? No presents? What was his sister thinking taking all that away? They didn’t need money to get into the Christmas spirit. The tree symbolized the spirit. The presents were a celebration. They didn’t have to be anything fancy. They didn’t have to be perfect. They just had to be. The rest would fall into place.

The epiphany hit him like a brick and twisted in his gut. He didn’t need to force his team together. He didn’t have to be a perfect leader. He just had to lead. The rest would fall into place. How did he not see it until now?

He needed to stop micromanaging every damn find. He trusted his SACs and needed to trust them to make the right calls. That’s why he had them. They were his seconds, his friends. His family.

Hell, they were all his family. He trusted each and every one of the people here, even the irritable sheriff who hated TREX for tearing apart his family. Mitch was wrong. So wrong. TREX hadn’t torn them apart.

Dan had.

He had to make this right. In order to fix what he’d broken, he’d have to play nice with the patriarch of the family. And he would. Hell, he’d buy Malcolm McKoy a damn fruit basket if it gained them an inch in the miles of ground they needed to make up.

Before he did anything for himself and his team, he needed to give Hunter Ramirez something to believe in.

“I happen to know Santa is real.” He had to give this kid a reason to smile. Hunter had just lost his sister. He needed the magic of Christmas now more than ever.

“He is?” For the first time, the kid looked up long enough to meet Dan’s gaze for only a few seconds, but it was enough. Hope shined in Hunter’s eyes. Hope and restraint. He wanted to believe, but he didn’t want to be disappointed. He’d already been let down too many times.

“I know him personally.”

“You do?” His tone brightened.

“Santa is an honorary TREX agent, you know. He can find anything for anyone, anywhere.”

“Can he find my sister?”

Dan’s chest tightened. He dropped his gaze to regroup after that question. He’d never been any good at softening his words and struggled to find the right ones. “Hunter, do you understand why you’re here? Why Agent Davis brought you here?” When his questions didn’t earn a response, he added, “Do you understand what happened to your sister?”

“She died,” he mumbled and rested his chin on his knee. Buster came over and sat in front of him, wagging his tail. Hunter scratched the dog behind his ears.

“Do you like Disney movies? Aladdin is one of my favorites.”

“I like the genie.”

Perfect. Dan nodded and went on. “Do you remember the rules for the wishes?”

“Can’t bring back the dead.” Hunter sighed. “I don’t want him to bring her back. I want him to make sure she’s in heaven. She gets lost.”

“I’ll deliver the message.” Ah, man. This kid tore at Dan’s heart. Yet, even though gut-wrenching, Hunter had referred to himself instead of the dog. Progress.

They sat in silence for a while, Hunter focused on Buster while Dan glanced around the room. It was getting late. Kat held a wide-awake little girl. Her husband had already put their son to bed and looked ready to collapse. It had to be exhausting running from a two-year-old all day. It pained Dan to no end knowing his daughter already had a crush at her age, and on Spencer’s kid.

Charis and David had disappeared with their boys, no doubt to get them to sleep. The adults would more than likely turn in as well. Ever since the kids came along, the parents crashed earlier and earlier. Dan had found himself happily turning in at the same time as his daughter regardless of the time. This adulting shit was hard.

Chris sat on the couch, rubbing Bethany’s swollen belly. They were damn happy despite the hand fate had dealt him after that find almost a year ago. Thanks to the piece of glass that had sliced through his spine, he’d never walk without forearm crutches or a cane again, when he walked at all. Half the time, he was confined to the chair. That put chasing after a kid in the not gonna happen category. Bethany was going to be one busy woman. At least Chris had his brother Mitch as his physical therapy coach. The PT instructor Chris had to help him relearn to walk was a hard ass, but Mitch put him to shame.

Bailey and Kaylee had resumed their card game, this time with the other women joining in. Seth and Logan sat on the opposite end of the table with their parents, losing to them in a game of team Trivial Pursuit. The occasional bullshit sounded, this time by the very ones glaring at the word earlier.

Wayde stood off in the corner, talking with Mitch. They were both law enforcement and clearly had reservations about TREX. Mitch had never made it a secret how he felt about the covert retrieval agency. Wayde, on the other hand, had come to TREX for help, not the other way around. They’d wanted his partner, not him. That didn’t make him any less of an agent now.

“Are you the boss?” Hunter asked, his attention at first on Buster then shifting to Dan.

“I am.”

“You and that man.” He nodded at Malcolm McKoy.

“That’s right.” How the hell did the kid know that? “You must have seen us talking earlier.”

“No.” After a silence that nearly had Dan chipping his teeth from grinding them, Hunter added, “No one talks to you.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean? “I was talking to a lot of people earlier.”

“No.”

Goddamn this kid’s one-word answers. Would it kill him to talk a little more? People needed more than one word and grunts.

Ah, Jesus. That was exactly what Dan had been giving his team since forever. They needed more. He needed to give them more.

“They talk. You order. They don’t like it.”

“Then why don’t they say anything?”

Hunter looked at him. “You’re the boss.”

Son of a bitch. If his team couldn’t talk to him, they were all in serious trouble. This kid had a good eye and even better perception when it came to reading people. Dan was impressed. He shoulder-bumped Hunter and nodded at Spencer, half-asleep watching some old black-and-white show. “What can you tell me about him?”

The beagle settled at Dan’s feet. Hunter hinted at a grin as he petted the dog. “He wants a family.”

“He has a family,” Dan countered.

Hunter shook his head. “He wants more.”

Okay, fine. He’d buy that. Spencer had always been scared to settle down and have kids for fear Kat would one day get the call that changed everything. Being in spec ops was more than dangerous. It was terrifying, more for the spouse than the agent. His dad had died in the field, forcing his mom to raise Spencer on her own. It scared the hell out of him at the thought of Kat ever being forced to keep his memory alive through stories and pictures.

“Before it’s too late,” Hunter added.

Dan’s heart stopped as he riveted his eyes to the kid. He couldn’t hide the horror in his voice as he asked, “What do you mean?”

“He’s sick.”

“What?” he barked, turning several heads. He stared down each and every set of eyes before returning his attention to the kid. “How sick?”

Hunter shrugged and frowned.

Dan wanted to scream for him to say more. Now he knew how it felt when he talked to his own team. Damn it. He hated epiphanies. Absolutely hated them. Never again would he leave any words out of the conversation when it came to his team. His family. They deserved every word he had. If that wasn’t enough, he’d learn more.

“How do you know he’s sick?” Dan pleaded, not bothering to hide the fear in his voice. It tightened all of his muscles and had him panting to breathe.

Hunter lifted his gaze. “His eyes look like my mom’s before she died.”

That’s when Dan saw it. Spencer’s eyes hadn’t been their usual smoky intensity. He seemed to tire easily, more easily than usual. Although he set his jaw and talked the talk, he didn’t seem to quite walk the walk lately.

Ah, hell. Dan recognized the effects of chemo when he saw it—now that he knew what to look for. Why the hell hadn’t Spencer said anything? He swallowed down the grief at watching yet another person close to him literally go through the battle of his life. Just as Dan’s mom had. She’d lost.

Spencer wouldn’t.

He made a mental note to be sure his second-in-command knew he had the entire TREX family behind him. No one should ever battle cancer alone. As long as Dan had any say in the matter, Spencer Allen would never be alone.

“Him?” Dan motioned at David as the guy raced through the living room searching for something. Once he found a pacifier under the table, he placed it in his mouth and shuddered. Dan knew the feeling. There had to be a better way to clean a binkie.

“He doesn’t want to miss anything.”

Interesting for a man who never missed a thing. David had the keenest eye Dan had ever seen. “Like?”

“He can’t keep up.”

“I don’t understand.” Which was a phrase he didn’t hear himself saying all that often.

“Too many details. Details make it hard to keep up.”

Again, it made sense in its own way. David hated to miss anything and spent way too much time combing through every detail instead of looking at the big picture. They were the perfect yin and yang since Dan only saw the bigger picture and failed on the details.

This kid was on to something. “What can you tell me about the rest of the people you see here?”

Hunter focused on Wayde and Mitch in the corner. “They don’t like you.”

Great. Just what he needed. Not exactly a confidence booster. Mitch he didn’t much care for, but Wayde had started to grow on him. He wouldn’t be adding him to his will any time soon, but he’d chosen the man’s house to spend Christmas. That said something even if Dan hadn’t.

“They do,” the kid said with a nod to the players of the card game. He regarded the Trivial Pursuit players. “Them, too.”

“How do I win them all over?” He sounded so pathetic asking a twelve-year-old kid how to manage his own team.

“Talk.”

“Talk?” A concept absolutely foreign to Dan. “I don’t talk much.”

“You talk to me.”

Son of a bitch. The kid made perfect sense. He cut through all the clutter and bullshit when no one else could. “Know something? You’re pretty smart for a kid.”

“That’s what Kaylee said.” He shrugged. “I’m not smart. I’m just Hunter.”

“I’m pretty sure they mean the same thing. Any other words of wisdom?”

“It’s Christmas.”

“I know. That’s why we’re all here.”

Hunter looked at him. “Is it?”

Goddamn. The kid kept nailing him with points so profound, they almost hurt to hear. “I wanted to bring them together to discuss the expansion of the agency.”

“Why Christmas?”

“Why not?” Dan countered.

“Because it’s Christmas. That should be why you’re all here.” After a long pause, he added, “I think Christmas presents is spelled wrong.”

Dan thought about that. Should it be Christmas presence? The more he let that sink in, the more sense it made. Christmas was more about the gift of being together rather than the gifts themselves. “Do you think society has had it wrong this whole time?”

“I don’t get society.”

“Neither do I, kid.” He sighed and leaned so their shoulders rested together. “Neither do I.”

CHAPTER 5

I t shouldn’t be this hard. They were just words. Yet, as Spencer worked to spit them out, he stumbled over his tongue and had already given up more than once. With Kathryn at his side, he’d never throw in the towel. Especially now with how much he stood to lose if he gave up.

The special directors had called everyone together in the den, which made no sense. It was smaller than the living room, had less seating, and with all these TREX agents, no one had enough room to stand without brushing shoulders with someone.

The boy had barely left Dan’s side since the two of them had some sort of powwow by the Christmas tree earlier. Now here they all sat or stood, most of the kids in bed—except for Emily, who took after her mother in every way, stubborn streak and all. The adults waited on the leaders of the two divisions to explain why they were stuck in one of the smallest rooms in the entire mansion.

“It’s time we explained why you’re all here,” Malcolm McKoy said as he raised his glass of scotch. “It’s to propose a toast.”

Judging by the looks they shot each other, the agents didn’t believe that for a minute.

“You could have toasted via Skype,” Bailey pointed out, her arms crossed as she pouted in the corner.

Dear God above, his daughter would one day be a moody girl. Spencer refused to leave dealing with that on Kathryn alone. He refused to leave anything on her alone. Hell, he refused to leave her alone period. His family needed him. He needed his family even more. The reality of what he had yet to face was debilitating.

“Pipe down,” Mitch barked, coming to the aid of his dad and shocking the rest of them. He rarely spoke up in favor of anything TREX. Bailey thinned her lips and thumbed at the screen of her phone.

“TREX is expanding,” Dan announced, pulling in the attention. “Frontline will almost double in size.”

“Sideline will triple,” Malcolm added, his glass still in the air. “Our toast is to congratulate those in this room. You have been chosen to take an active part in the expansion. Each one of you will be a leader in your division.”

Spencer snagged David’s attention. They’d never agreed to this angle. The younger agents hadn’t been on any serious finds. How in the hell were they supposed to lead a team on one?

“Before we reassign duties, we’re going to play a little game.” Dan didn’t do games. He was the opposite of a game player. Game changer, maybe. What the hell was going on? “Each one of us is going to give up something no one else in this room knows.” His gaze rested on Spencer, those piercing blue eyes drilling into his resolve.

Oh shit. He knew.

“I hate this agency,” Mitch volunteered first.

“Everyone knows that,” Dan pointed out, his lips twitching into what Spencer could only describe as the start of a smile. “Got anything else?”

“I don’t like you that much, either.”

“That means you like him some.” Hunter spoke up, surprising several agents. That was the first time he’d volunteered anything, especially to the group.

“Thank you.” Dan nodded at the kid.

Hunter grinned wide. “You’re welcome.”

Holy shit, they’d somehow bonded and become one. Poor kid.

“I’ll go.” Wayde stood up from the arm of the chair Mia sat in. He turned to Spencer. “I really appreciate the offer, but I don’t want to be spec ops. I’m pretty damn happy being a dual agent between the SBI and TREX. I’d have to give that up. I’ve worked too hard to be a unit lead with the SBI.”

“No one gives up an invite to be one of the elite,” Kaylee said. “Are you crazy?”

“Give it to someone else,” Wayde said and returned to the arm of the chair, his hand searching for Mia’s. “I’ve got everything I need right here.”

Spencer nodded in agreement. It disappointed him knowing he’d have to open the position to an agent fresh out of SOLAS, TREX’s field training for Special Operations for Land, Air, and Sea, but he understood completely. “Fair enough.”

Seth was next. “I want to work in the bioterrorism unit.”

“I can make that happen.” Dan gave him a firm nod.

“Like hell,” Malcolm growled. “No boy of mine is working chemical warfare.”

“It’s my choice,” Seth fired back, clearly stunning his siblings, who all exchanged wide glances. Spencer had to admit, he was taken a bit off guard as well. Seth rarely if ever spoke back. To anyone. “I want to create the vaccines and antibodies needed to fight off the poisons put in dirty bombs. Terrorists are getting more creative. We need to be ready. I can help get us there.”

“New rule,” Dan jumped in as Malcolm drew in a sharp breath. “No telling someone he’s crazy in his choice.” He looked at Kaylee. “Or flat out telling him no.” He then looked at Malcolm. “This is a way to get to know each other as a team, not tear each other down. Now, who’s next?”

“After that pep talk?” Bailey mused, the sarcasm oozing from her tone. When all eyes were on her, she let out a sigh and stood to address the room. “I’ve decided to move to Seattle. Montana is too far away.”

“Too far away from what?” David pushed away from the wall, his spine rigid. “It had better not be because of—”

“Jason,” she cut him off. “It is. He’s letting me move into his place until I can find something. I heard what Hunter said when he was talking to the director. Christmas is about presence, not presents. We spend so much time worried about material things and push away the things we really want. I want to be with Jason.”

Kaylee stepped next to her twin and slid their hands together. “Bails is right. Life is too short to give into our fears.” She drew in a deep breath and faced Spencer. “I want to be considered for the position on Team Two.”

“You?” Bailey whispered. Her mouth fell open as tears swelled in her eyes. She shook her head, mouthing the word no over and over.

“It’s okay, sis. It’s okay. I promise it’s okay.” Kaylee pulled her into her arms. “You’re not going to lose me.” She grasped Bailey’s shoulders and held her gaze, repeating, “You’re not going to lose me.”

“But spec ops?” She flicked a quick look at Chris before centering on his crutches.

Kaylee spoke, pulling Bailey’s attention. “You have to let me do this. It’s all I’ve ever wanted but never did because I was too scared you’d hate me if I left. I know how you feel about field agents, especially spec ops.”

“Hey,” several of the agents protested, Spencer included.

“If this is because I want to move in with Jason…”

“You said it was just a place to stay,” David growled.

“It’s not that,” Kaylee corrected quickly. “It’s because you’re finally taking that leap. If you can do it, so can I.” They hugged.

Spencer swung his gaze to Dan and shrugged. Kaylee had more guts than the rest of her family combined. If she shot half as well as Logan, thought half as fast as Chris, and dug up intel anywhere near as quick as Charis, she’d make one hell of a spec ops agent.

Dan narrowed his eyes as he held Spencer’s. “Anything you want to offer up?”

“I’m good.”

“Are you?”

Goddamn it. He didn’t want to announce it and make it sound like he was fishing for sympathy. But, it was out there now. With a deep sigh, he came out with it. “I’m going to be taking a little time off.”

“Another kid on the way?” Wayde asked. All eyes jumped to Kathryn. She shook her head and nodded for him to go on. Little Emily, her wild curls like a red halo, stared at him with those giant blue eyes. She looked just like her mom. He had to be here to watch her grow up. He just had to. That thought alone gave him the strength to keep going.

“I, uh…” he cleared his throat when his voice cracked. Jesus, it shouldn’t be this hard. He shouldn’t be scared. But, damn it, he was. Not for him, but for his family being forced to face a possible future without him. “I have cancer. Stage three.”

The collective gasp echoed through the room. He closed his eyes to gather enough resolve to not break down in front of them all. After several seconds, he glanced around and braced himself just as Charis ran over and threw her arms around his neck. He then looked to Dan, who’d paled and kept his head down, his expression guarded.

“Good thing you’re in TREX,” Hunter said when the silence grew so loud it rang.

Spencer cocked his head. “Why’s that?”

“You find anything. Even a cure for cancer.”

“And if we don’t?” He hated to ask, but since everyone else put their raw emotions out there, he held nothing back. Charis withdrew but still held Spencer’s arm.

Hunter looked around the room. “Cancer is just one thing. There are more of you. The odds aren’t looking good for cancer.”

Everyone chuckled, including Spencer. It was the first time he’d felt like smiling since hearing the news that had changed his entire outlook. Before, he was all about the job, using it to protect the family. Now, family came first. It should have always been that way.

“What kind of cancer?” Seth asked.

“Rectal.”

Several of the agents exchanged glances before Chris said what everyone else was thinking. “You’ve always been a pain in the ass.”

The room erupted in laughter. It was dark. Morbid, even. Yet, it was how the agents coped with tragedy, both present and future. They cracked jokes and jibed each other. It was their way of saying what no one had the guts to say—they loved each other and would always be there for their family, blood or not.

Logan hugged Spencer before slapping him on the back. “Let me just throw this out there. What if I take Team Two? Temporarily, of course. Give you a chance for some downtime. I doubt either of the Neely brothers will want a lead position. Granger and Burns are too busy cracking jokes, and you’re down a man anyway. Bring me in and let me take the team off your hands.”

“I’m losing the Neelys to Team Three, so I’m actually down three. If I step back, you’d only have two. That’s not enough for a team.”

Logan shoulders slumped. “Guess not.”

“Which is why you should head up one of the new teams,” Dan offered. “We’re putting together four new teams to have six in total ready for deployment. We’ve got Teams One through Four covered, so take your pick. Do you like Five or Six better?”

Logan grinned. “Six. That way I can use my thumb to signal my team. I’d rather keep my trigger finger free.” Considering he was one of the best sharpshooters in all of TREX, Spencer understood why.

Charis finally released Spencer’s arm and returned to her husband’s side. They exchanged glances before she spoke. “David and I have news.”

“More babies?” Helen McKoy, the matriarch of the McKoy clan, chimed in, a wide smile lighting up her features.

“God, no.” David spoke up quickly, earning a glare from his wife. He shrank back. “I mean, not right now.” It came out like a question.

“We’re moving.”

“What?” Chris stiffened and sat up straight, definitely not happy at the news of his twin moving away. “Where?”

“Closer to you.”

Correction. Now he was definitely not happy. “You’re shitting me.”

She smiled warmly, either oblivious to her brother’s shock or ignoring it. Charis didn’t miss much, so Spencer leaned more toward her ignoring it. “It’s the house right next door to yours. Bethany and I already have plans to fence the two backyards so the kids can play together.”

Chris whipped his head around to his wife. “You knew about this?”

Bethany opened and closed her mouth several times before admitting, “It was my idea.” When Chris took a breath to protest, she hurried out the rest of her explanation. “I need help. I thought I could do this, but I can’t. I’m not afraid to admit that. When Charis told me they were looking to upgrade to a bigger house, I mentioned the one next door. It just sort of took off from there.”

“You’re okay with this?” he asked David.

“You’re my brother. I’m more than okay with whatever it takes to help out. Charis works from home now and I’m gone on assignment half the time. We can set up quite the intel office for you.”

“And I can come over whenever you need me. Even better, we can set up one big office.” Charis clapped as she smiled wide. “We’ll see each other every day!”

“Swell,” Chris groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Twins,” Hunter said, bouncing his gaze between Charis and Chris. “A boy and a girl. Her babies are twins.” He nodded at Bethany’s huge belly. “Twins?”

She shook her head and rubbed her rounded abdomen. “Just one.”

“You sure?”

Hesitating, she then turned to Chris. “We’re sure. Aren’t we?”

“The doctor would have told us.”

“Twins,” Hunter repeated. “Lots of twins in this family. I like this family. It’s big. There are too many people to disappear.”

“You’re a member of this family, too.” Dan shocked everyone with that statement. He’d never warmed up to anyone so fast. That included his wife.

JT stepped forward. “You found us, right? That makes you a junior TREX agent, you know.”

“Can I be a real agent someday?” Hunter beamed. “I’m really good at finding stuff.”

“You want to be a TREX agent when you grow up?” she asked.

He dropped his smile and immediately shook his head. “I don’t want to grow up.”

She brought her hands up like a traffic cop. “Then you don’t have to.”

His smile returned.

“How about you, Hunter?” Dan nudged the kid. “Do you have anything you want to share with the group? Something none of us know about you?”

He blushed hard and dropped his gaze.

Dan nudged him again. “You don’t have to.”

“Buster wants to,” he muttered. The room fell silent. He kept his attention on the dog at his feet as he finally spoke. “We weren’t home when Carmen died because we were…uh…” He shoved his hand deep into his front jeans pocket and pulled out a handful of wadded up cash. “We stole from the big church right by my house. We usually only take enough to buy food, but it was Christmas and I wanted to get my sister something nice.” He dropped the money to the floor and looked to Dan. “Are you going to take me to jail?”

“No,” Dan said and snapped his brow into a frown. “But you have to promise me you’ll never steal again.”

“I promise. Stealing is wrong. It doesn’t matter why. I’m sorry.”

“Does stealing hearts count?” Kathryn whispered in Spencer’s ear after sneaking up behind him. His daughter reached for him. He took her and cuddled her close on one side, and pulled his wife close to him on the other.

“He’s a pretty damn cute kid.” Spencer gave her a sideways glance. “Should I be worried?”

“I’ll let you know in a couple of years.”

He kissed the top of her head. Every day he thanked his lucky stars for reuniting him with Kathryn and starting a family. If he’d learned anything from tonight’s events, it was to live each moment like it was your last. His dad used to say a person could never look forward to the future if they couldn’t see beyond the past. Jack Allen had been a very smart man.

“What are you going to sing?” she asked as she batted those beautiful baby blues. His daughter followed suit and batted hers, too. Talk about stealing hearts. He melted as he always did around them.

“Sing?”

“You always play the piano and sing on Christmas Eve.”

“At home,” he pointed out, but it was too late. Too many had heard Kathryn’s comment.

“I didn’t know you sang.” Wayde nodded toward the door. “We have a piano downstairs.”

In no time, the party moved to the large rec room on the first floor. Spencer sat at the piano and teased the keys as he warmed up. He loved to play. He wasn’t that great of a singer, but it didn’t matter. He was surrounded by his family. For them, he’d happily perform.

“I love Christmas music,” Hunter said and sat on the bench with Spencer. For a kid with communication issues and trouble with social cues, he had no problem fitting right in with this motley crew. “Do you know the one about being together every Christmas? Can that be us?”

Spencer played the intro to Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. Charis pulled her little sisters over to the piano. JT and Mia joined them. Even Bethany joined in as the women sang the first verse.

By the chorus, the men had joined in, some hitting the mark, but most completely off-key. They all laughed as they got the words wrong, laughed when they missed the notes, and never stopped smiling.

“And have yourself,” Spencer sang above them all. “A Merry little TREXmas now.”

THE END

Thank you for reading Merry TREXmas! Please consider leaving a review. It’s one of the absolute BEST things you can do for an author.

Interested in more TREX? Please visit my website at www.alliekadams.com.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

“If you’re looking for non-stop, heart-racing action and sizzling romance, look no further. Allie K. Adams will take you there—and more!” –USA Today bestselling author Lucy Monroe

Allie K. Adams is the USA Today bestselling author of several award-winning stories. An active member of the search and rescue, as well as having previously served as a reserve deputy, Allie has firsthand experience in most of the dangers she writes about. Known for her highly thrilling, deeply intense suspense romances, she can be found most days in front of her computer, saving the world one sizzling story at a time. She grew up in Seattle and now currently lives in southwest Montana with the hubs and various other wildlife.

She loves to hear from readers and encourages them to reach out to her through her website at www.alliekadams.com.

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Books by Allie K. Adams

THE MURPH & GRACE SERIES — Thriller

I Will Find You (#1)

They All Scream (#2) – Coming soon!

THE TREX ADVENTURES — Military Romantic Suspense

First Response (#1 TREX Brief)

Rescue Me (#2)

At Any Cost (#3)

TREX Boxed Set One (#1 - #3)

No Way Out (#4 TREX Brief – Special Edition)

Seek and Destroy (#5)

Under the Covers (#6)

Out of Time (#7)

It Takes Two (#8)

Merry TREXmas (#9 – Special Edition)

THE BRACE SERIES — Police Romantic Suspense

Brace For Impact (#1)

Brace For Contact (#2 – Part of the Protect & Serve Anthology)

THE CAMPUS PLAYERS — Sassy New Adult

Grooming the Player (#1)

Hiring the Player (#2)

Playing the Player (#3 – Part of the Playing for Passion Anthology)

KINDLE WORLDS

A Love Once Lost (Barbara Freethy’s The Callaways)

Taking Chances, Part 1 (HM Ward’s The Arrangement)

Truth or Dare (Carly Phillips’ Dare to Love)

Turn the Page (Tiffany A. Snow’s Kathleen Turner)

Taking Chances, Part 2 (HM Ward’s The Arrangement) – Coming soon!

THE ROADHOUSE SERIES – Cowboy Romantic Suspense Serial

Riding Lessons – Masters’ Roadhouse, Part 1 (#1) – Out Now!

Riding Double – Masters’ Roadhouse, Part 2 (#2) – Out Now!

Riding Cowboys – Henry’s Roadhouse, Part 1 (#3)

Riding the Fence – Henry’s Roadhouse, Part 2 (#4)

Riding Bareback – Emerson’s Roadhouse, Part 1 (#5)

The Last Ride – Emerson’s Roadhouse, Part 2 (#6)

HOLIDAY MISCHIEF

BY GERI FOSTER

Copyright © 2015 by Geri Foster

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Created with Vellum

CHAPTER 1

T  homas Avery and his wife of forty-two years sat on the couch sipping a glass of chardonnay, watching their five grown daughters decorate the Christmas tree. “I tell you,” he said, “I think it’s a great idea.”

His wife, Amanda, placed her hand on his knee, leaned over and gazed into his eyes. “You’re joking.”

Setting his glass on the coffee table, he put his arm around Amanda and pulled her close. Caressing the side of her beautiful face, he said, “It’s your entire fault. I told you I wanted a son to take over my empire.”

Known for her sense of humor, she laughed spontaneously. “I wouldn’t exactly call Avery Security Service an empire.” Tapping his chin with her manicured nail, she placed a quick kiss on his lips. “I did my best. If five girls aren’t enough then you should have married Susan Shoemaker from the third grade. She gave her husband three boys.”

Thomas turned away with a foul taste in his mouth. Susan had gone from the sweetest thing on earth to downright ugly in five years. He cleared his throat. “Yes, but she’s not my type.”

“She was when you were eight.”

“Well, every man is entitled to one mistake.” Glancing at his daughters joyfully hanging bulbs and garland on the massive tree, he smiled at the picturesque setting. Without a doubt, any moment one of them would erupt like a volcano and the fighting would begin.

“My money’s on Cynthia,” Amanda said, thoughtfully. “She walked in the door yesterday with a chip on her shoulder.”

Rubbing his chin, Thomas studied his daughters closely. “Usually it’s either Laura or Kandice. But, I think you’re right this time. The surfer gal could be the troublemaker this year.”

Their housekeeper, Bea, came in to refill their wine glasses. Afterwards she glanced toward the tree. “Nothing’s flying yet?”

“No,” Amanda said. “But it’s still early.”

Bea shook her head. “They’ve been at that for over an hour. It’s time someone kicked up a fuss.”

“Our money,” Thomas said, “is on Cynthia.”

Bea wrinkled her brow into a frown. “Not Miss Kandice? She’s usually the one who gets bored and stirs up trouble.”

Leaning back on the throw pillow, Amanda stared at the girls. “Maybe. She’s certainly the diva of the bunch, but Cynthia’s came in with a dark cloud over her head.”

The housekeeper put her hand on her hip and harrumphed. “How in the world can you tell?”

“Experience,” Amanda said. “As a mother, I can sense these things.”

“Then you’d be real smart to send her packing, right now.”

Thomas chuckled. “And miss all the fun?” He shook his head. “You have to remember, Bea. In our old age we have very little to entertain us.”

“Old my eye,” she clucked loudly, on the way out of the room. “You’re barely in your sixties.”

“Why?” Cynthia, their oldest, yelled. “How come you always have to have your way, Laura?”

Thomas turned and gave his wife a knowing smile. “Told you.”

“Let’s see who wins.”

“That’s always a toss-up, but we know who’ll settle the matter.”

“Laura.” He looked at his wife. “But lately Madelyn has become quite the mediator.”

Amanda patted his hand. “Our little librarian.” She smiled. “Let’s just hope nothing is broken when it’s over.”

Bea hurried into the room, her hand to her chest. “Miss Hanna is at the door and she’s awfully upset.”

Confidently, Thomas wiggled his brows at Amanda. “She must be irritated from dealing with last-minute shoppers.” He pushed off the couch. “I’ll help her bring the presents.”

Amanda rose gracefully, put down her wine and raised her hand. “If it’s presents, you can count me in.”

Their daughters left the decorating unfinished and rushed to meet the arrival. Amanda leaned on her husband and together they walked to the front door, opened it to find Hanna standing on the doorstep crying like a baby. All five girls surrounded their guest.

“Are the presents here?” Madelyn asked, jumping up and down, clapping her hand like a demented bunny rabbit. “Oh, I love Christmas.”

Laura stepped closer. “Are you crying, Hanna?”

“I got robbed,” the Avery Security Service secretary howled, her bottom lip trembling. She sniffed loudly. “Someone stole all the gifts I’d purchased.” She pointed to her car as if it were to blame. “I don’t know what to do.”

Amanda took the secretary by the arm and led her out of the cold Dallas weather and into the warm house. “Dear, do calm down. You poor thing, this is just terrible.” Checking her over, Amanda asked, “Are you hurt?”

“No.” Hanna sobbed like a six year old. “But a man shoved me on the ground and took all the packages.”

Thomas put his arm around the young woman and led her toward the living room. “Tell us what happened.”

Amanda handed her a tissue, and Hanna blew her nose loud enough to attract a moose. As they walked to the living room, Hanna continued wailing.

“I came out of Macy’s,” she said, swinging her arms wildly. “I’d just picked up Cynthia’s present and was making my way to the car. I got there and carefully looked around.” She nodded to him. The tassel on her knitted hat bobbled crazily. “Like you always tell me.”

“Yes, yes,” Thomas said. “Go on.”

“I didn’t see anything so I unlocked the trunk and that’s when he jumped up from the side of the car next to me. Shoved me out of the way then he and another person ran away with everything I had in the trunk.”

He’d given Hanna a week off to do the bulk of their Christmas shopping. His wife had had knee surgery several weeks ago, and they didn’t want to take the chance that she’d re-injure it.

“What mall were you at?” Kandice asked.

“The Galleria.” She sniffed. “I didn’t call the police or see any mall police. I didn’t know what to do, so I came here.”

Kandice patted her on the arm. “Sit down and have a glass of wine. Father will call Alex. He can get to work on it right away.”

Laura and Jacklyn looked at each other with obvious grins.

“Don’t call him. It’s the holiday,” Laura said. “These are our presents and in this family we take care of our own problems.” Laura waved her hand toward her sisters. “It’s no big deal.”

“Of course it is,” Thomas argued. “You’d be dealing with a thief, and God only knows what else.”

Laura looked at her siblings. “You girls up for some fun?”

Jacklyn, the New York detective, rubbed her hands together. “Oh, yeah. We’re all over this.”

The librarian of the bunch, meek little Madelyn, cracked her knuckles, making Thomas cringe. “They won’t know what hit them.”

After a quick huddle, the girls trooped upstairs like soldiers going to war. A few minutes later, Thomas was nearly knocked over when his five daughters came thundering down the stairs. They were dressed in an assortment of clothing, from sweatpants and a hoodie to an expensive jogging suit he was sure Kandice, the model, had never run in.

Thomas hurried to the door and spread out his arms, blocking the horde. “Stop right there. You will not get involved. I’ll call the police. There’s a good chance you’ll get hurt or worse.”

“Girls,” Amanda said firmly. “I forbid you from going out to hunt down criminals.”

“Oh, Father, how hard could it be?” Laura patted her huge handbag. “I have my pepper spray and a whistle.”

The five kissed their mother on the cheek then stormed out the garage door and left to hunt down those responsible for stealing their Christmas gifts.

Thomas smiled down at his wife. “They fell for it.”

Hanna ran into the kitchen. “How was I? I didn’t overdo it, did I?”

“No, no, you did just fine,” Thomas said. Although, the statement would be true only if she were starring in a comedy.

“Good. I wanted to sound convincing.” She turned. “By the way, the presents are in my trunk.”

Amanda’s frown could have caused a hardened criminal to beg for mercy. “You’ll regret this, Thomas. Those girls have no idea how to solve a crime.”

He hooked his arm through hers. “A crime wasn’t committed. They’ll spend a few hours spinning their wheels then get bored and come home.”

“That’s still a nasty trick to pull here at Christmas.”

“Well, if they’re going to inherit a security firm they need to learn a few things. Another bonus is having them occupied and not going at each other.” He folded his hands. “Maybe we’ll have a peaceful holiday for a change.”

“I can’t believe you’ve tricked them like that. You do realize they took your SUV.”

Horror wrapped Thomas’s heart up like a Christmas present. “Oh, hell no, not my baby.”

“Oh, hell yes.” Amanda smirked.

CHAPTER 2

T  he sisters crowded into the vehicle, played with the buttons, disagreed over the radio station and finally headed for the scene of the crime. However, once they arrived at the mall, no one was quite sure of the exact location where the offense had taken place.

“What do you think, girls?” Laura asked. “Shall we call Hanna? This place is massive. I could get lost in here for days.”

Madelyn spoke up. “Didn’t she mention Macy’s?”

“Yes, she did,” Kandice said, snapping open her Kate Spade purse to retrieve her compact. Running a finger over her perfect eyebrows, she checked her teeth then powdered her nose. “That’s still a big parking area.”

Not willing to waste time, Laura called her father on the cell phone. When he answered, she asked, “Where was Hanna parked?”

“Stop all this foolishness and bring my Escalade back this instant. You’re going to mess around and get hurt.” Her father’s tone turned serious. “You’ve upset your mother.”

Remaining persistent, Laura gritted her teeth and asked again. “Where was Hanna parked?”

“Outside Macy’s but she doesn’t remember what row.”

Laura looked at the crowded parking garage and realized they were in for a tough time finding a robber in that maze of cars. The culprits could be lurking around any car or concrete pillar, and no one would see them. This time of year people were so busy, it was no wonder criminals took advantage of the situation.

“Thanks, Dad. I’ll stay in touch,” Laura said.

Jacklyn crossed her arms. “That was a useless call. Let’s check out the mall security. Maybe they have cameras.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea, Cynthia said. “I would’ve never thought of that.”

Jacklyn gave her a sour look and stepped out of the vehicle. “That’s because you spend most of your life on a surf board, hanging out with ancient hippies.” She slammed the door. “The rest of us work.”

“Hey, I have a job,” Cynthia said. “I work at the local gift shop.”

“Making what?” Kandice, the cover model, asked. “Eight bucks an hour?”

Cynthia stuck out her tongue. “No, twelve.”

“Whoop-dee-do,” Madelyn said. “That doesn’t buy much where you live.”

Laura walked across the parking lot, her sisters close behind. “That’s because she lives off her allowance from Mom and Dad.”

Madelyn poked Cynthia on the shoulder. “Doesn’t that make you feel like a loser, little sister?”

Cynthia curled her lips. “Not at all. While the four of you are busting your asses, I’m enjoying life.”

Laura turned on her. “You should have enough self-respect to get a career. Stop being a sponge.”

“Mind your own business. I’ll do what I damn well please. You’re not the boss of me.”

Laura shrugged. “Someone needs to be.”

In single file, they walked inside to a mass of milling bodies. The place was packed. It took them ten minutes to find a clerk and ask the location of the mall manager’s office. They were politely directed to the third level.

Fighting their way onto the elevator, Laura turned to face her sisters. “Let me do the questioning. I’m a lawyer. That’s what I’m good at.” She looked around. “Where is Kandice?” Looking over the crowd, Laura spied her tall, elegant sister at the perfume counter of a nearby store. “Cyn, go get Miss Dior. We aren’t here to shop.”

Jacklyn snapped, “New York detective here. I know how to ask questions.”

“We’re here to get information. Last I heard sugar works better than vinegar. We’re going to use a little good old-fashioned charm.” Laura scowled down at them. “So smile, dammit.”

At the main office they were all disappointed after waiting over an hour for a round little man, sporting a green tie with a cross-eyed reindeer, complete with a red blinking light for a nose, to bounce out to greet them.

Reaching up, he removed his Santa hat and said, “What can I do for you ladies?”

“My father’s secretary was robbed in the parking lot next to Macy’s, and we’d like to view your surveillance cameras,” Laura asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes.

He clasped his hands in front of his round belly. “You must be kidding. We can’t do that. Did you file a police report?”

“No,” Jacklyn stepped up to say. “We were hoping you could help us.”

“No, no, that’s not possible.” He shook his head and held out his hands. “You actually think I can just hand over our system for you to prowl through?” He let out a condescending laugh. “That takes a court order.”

Without giving them a second glance, the man, who hadn’t bothered to introduce himself, waddled down the hall to his office.

“Well, that sucks,” Kandice said. “He’s a moron and in serious need of lap-band surgery.” She turned, her purse dangling elegantly off her wrist while her jogging suit looked good enough for her to walk down the runway. “Let’s try the police.”

Again, they all managed to file into the Escalade and, directed by the car’s guidance system, headed toward the nearest police station.

Sitting outside the building, Laura turned to her sister. “What’s our plan?”

Jacklyn opened the door. “We don’t need one. You don’t have to be brilliant to file a police report. I’m just not sure we can do anything because Hanna was actually the victim. But cops tend to show each other officers of the law professional curtesy.”

“Let’s find out,” Laura said.

“But,” Kandice, the model, said, “shouldn’t we come up with a story or something?” She shivered. “I can’t bear the thought of being in there with all those criminals any longer than necessary.”

“Good, stay in the car.” Jacklyn slammed the door and walked up the steps toward the main door.

“I’m not waiting here,” Madelyn said. “I want to know what’s said.”

Heads turned as Laura led the women through the doors and up to a desk. To say they drew a lot of attention was an understatement. The officers practically jumped from their chairs to help.

“You little ladies need assistance,” said a tall, handsome officer with a nametag that read J Bryant. “We’re at your service.” His smile nearly blinded Laura.

Oh, God help us, she thought.

Since Jacklyn had experience with a police environment, Laura folded her arms and stepped back, removing her black knitted hat.

“We’re here to report a robbery,” Jacklyn said.

Officer J Bryant frowned. “That’s too bad. Were any of you hurt?”

Jacklyn shook her head. “It actually happened to my father’s secretary. She was at the Galleria Mall earlier today when someone pushed her down and stole the items in the trunk of her car.”

“That’s too bad.” While the rest of the men on duty looked on, J Bryant’s eyes touched on each of them. “Which one of you is the secretary?”

Jacklyn waved her hand in front of his face to get his attention. He was obviously dazed by five attractive women converging on him at once. “She’s not here.”

The flirtatious smile on his face melted like snow in a hot frying pan. Glancing back at his buddies, he shook his head and shrugged. “You can’t make a report for someone else. They have to come down in person.”

“But it was our property that was stolen,” Laura said. “What if she called it in?”

“Since it’s a robbery, we’d request she come to the station to speak with us so we could gather all the information,” the officer said.

Jacklyn looked at him and reached into her tiny handbag. She flipped out her NYPD detective badge.

J Bryant examined it then handed it back to her. “Welcome to Dallas, Detective Avery. Wish I could help you, but the victim needs to file the report.”

Annoyed at the lack of assistance, Jacklyn snatched her badge out of his hand. “Thanks for nothing. Come on, girls, let’s not waste Dallas’s finest time.”

Kandice arrogantly flipped her flaming red hair over a shoulder, Madelyn apologized nervously, Laura glared, Cynthia stuck out her tongue and Jacklyn fumed all the way back to the car.

Madelyn slumped in the seat, nibbling on her bottom lip. “It looks like our life of fighting crime is over.”

“I hate that someone took the gifts Mom and Dad paid for,” Cynthia said. “I want to catch those crooks so they don’t rob anyone else.”

“I know,” Kandice said. “I feel the same way.”

Laura didn’t like the way the whole thing played out, either. Mostly she didn’t want to go back home and tell her parents they’d failed. After all, her father owned a very successful security firm. This was right up his alley and for some reason, Laura wanted to feel worthy.

And Cynthia and Kandice were right. That was their Christmas. What if those thieves stole a trunk-load of kids’ toys? That wasn’t something she would walk away from.

CHAPTER 3

A lex Sanders sat in the home office of his boss, Thomas Avery, sipping a glass of bourbon. The faint scent of cigar smoke lingered in the dark-paneled room. He’d spent many hours there, cooped up with his boss, assessing clients, cases and logistics.

In the world of security, Thomas Avery stood out among the best. He knew his business like the veins on the backs of his hands and had an uncanny knack for keeping his customers happy.

Alex had learned a lot from the man. Even with Alex’s military background, he’d joined the firm not knowing much about security, but it hadn’t taken him long to learn. Within a year, he was Thomas’s right hand man, and the two were of the same mind.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Thomas. How could you think for one minute those stubborn girls of yours wouldn’t take this to the max?”

“I wanted them to get their toes in the water, that’s all.” Thomas glanced away. “Someday all this is going to be theirs. I’d like to retire knowing Avery Security Service will go on.”

“Not unless you sell it.”

“I can’t do that, Alex. What kind of legacy would that be for my children?”

Alex leaned back in the high-backed leather chair and crossed his leg over the top of his thigh. “One is a lawyer, one a fashion model, one a detective, a damn librarian and a surfer. And you want them to run your security business.” He shook his head. “Not going to work.”

The Avery sisters were five of the weirdest women he’d ever met. They fought like crazy, competed against each other and weren’t beyond throwing a few things around. That’s why he’d always referred to them as the Twisted Sisters. Of course, not in ear shot of their parents. Still, in a bizarre way, he knew they cared for one another.

“You’ll be there to help them out.”

Alex shot his boss a hard stare. He might love the guy but he wasn’t stupid. “If you think I’m going to try to control five women as headstrong as your daughters, you’re mistaken. They’ll eat me alive.”

Thomas shook his head and propped his elbows on his oak desk. “You’re tough. You can do it.”

“Not even for all the money you’ve offered me. Not those five. God help the man that takes on that job.”

“But I need you. I’ll double your bonus.”

“No, you need a wrangling boss. You need someone who can crack the whip and command discipline.” Now it was Alex’s turn to shake his head. “I’m not that guy.”

“I swear I’ll straighten it all out with the girls. I’ll lay down the law and tell them you’re in charge.”

“Oh, yeah, like Laura would ever go for that.”

Thomas lifted his chin. “I won’t give her a choice.”

“Have you ever thought that maybe your girls don’t want your business?” He spread out his hand. “After all, they’re all successful in their own right.” He paused and glanced at Thomas. “That is, except Cynthia.”

“It’s their inheritance. Their future. I want them all financially secure.”

“What if money doesn’t matter to them?”

“It matters to everyone,” Thomas scoffed.

Alex was so disgusted he wanted to chew shoe leather. Why was Thomas so insistent on passing on his business on to five spoiled brats? They’d run it into the ground in a month.

Alex pressed his fingertips together. “Let’s imagine the girls agree. Can you see any of them being a real asset to the company? Especially the surfer girl scraping by on minimum wage.”

The frown on his boss’s face relayed that he didn’t appreciate him singling out his youngest child.

“Look, you don’t want to hear it, Thomas. But she’s dropped out of college and at twenty-four, isn’t doing anything but beachcombing.”

“Cynthia is a very intelligent woman.”

“Who does what? Surfs for a living?”

Thomas turned aside, his jaw muscles twitching. “I’ll admit her mother and I had hoped she’d find her place.” He lowered his chin. “She hasn’t yet.”

“What about Kandice? Is she going to put on a pair of stilettoes and chase after a jewel thief?”

“My daughters are smart women who can make this work. I admit they’ll need help, but in the end, they’ll succeed.”

“Seeing is believing.”

“Let’s observe how they do on the alleged shopping robbery.”

Alex’s phone rang. Seeing the face of Cory Daniels, their IT guru, he answered with trepidation because the office was closed and everyone was off for the holidays. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Cory’s voice traveled through the speaker and Alex didn’t like the undertones of concern.

“Um, Laura Avery called and wants me to meet her at the office.”

“Did she say why?” Alex asked.

“No, just that they were there waiting for me. I’m headed that way but thought you might want to know.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Alex rose and put his phone in his pocket. “They’re at the office.”

Thomas looked at him, his brows almost to his hairline. “Why?”

“Who knows?”

CHAPTER 4

L aura was annoyed that they’d waited almost an hour for Cory Daniels to show up when he lived less than twenty minutes away. She tamped down her anger by remembering it was the holidays and he was on vacation.

“Why did you call me in?” he asked, placing his Starbucks cup on his desk. He then slowly removed his hat, coat and gloves, wearing a bitter frown. “You know, I’m off until after New Year’s.”

“We want you to run some surveillance.”

“What?” he asked, his eyes glazed with terror. “I can’t do that without a warrant or something.”

“We know you don’t always do things according to the book. So, boot up your computer,” Cynthia said, making a horrible noise as she sucked the last of her Slurpee. “Come on, whiz kid. Show us your stuff.”

Placing the empty cup on Cory’s desk, she turned to walk away. He took a tissue, picked it up by the rim and deposited it into his empty trash can. “Don’t leave stuff in my work area. There’s sensitive equipment in here.”

“Oh,” Cynthia sarcastically said, as she covered her mouth over a soft burp. “Sorry to intrude on your space. Me and Madelyn are going to the breakroom. We’re hungry and Jacklyn wants coffee. Kandice is on her phone again.”

Laura waved her away, wanting to scream. “Go, be quiet, Cynthia, and let the man work.”

Cory scooted back his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not doing anything until your father gives me the order. I have the integrity of this company to protect, and I don’t take my work or my responsibility lightly.”

Laura pulled up a chair and eased down beside him. “We’re not asking you to spy on the Pentagon. We just want the video from a shopping mall camera.” She patted him on the shoulder and smiled. “You can do that, can’t you?”

“I’m not sure I should.”

Laura heard the outer door open and stood. “Who’s here?”

Unexpectedly, Alex Sanders filled the doorway to Cory’s office. Putting his hand on the frame, he stared at her.

Laura feared he’d be able to hear her heart pounding. “What are you doing here,” she asked in a broken voice.

He cocked a brow. “I might ask you the same question.”

Refusing to look at him and allow her body to react in a pitiful way, she turned to Cory. “He’s helping us with a project.”

The man in control of the IT department pointed to the wall between his office and Alex’s. “You might as well know, they’re all in there.”

“I suspected as much,” Alex said. “Trouble travels in packs.”

She spun around in the chair then stood, wishing she’d picked out a more flattering outfit than her yoga pants and a long sweater. “What do you mean by that?” Gritting her teeth, she took a dangerous step closer. “I though only wolves traveled in packs. Are you calling us wolves?”

He spread his legs and fisted his hands on lean hips. His big body seemed to take up the entire room. “I didn’t say that.”

“She wants me to hack the surveillance vids from a mall surveillance system. You think I should?”

“What mall?”

“The parking garage of the Galleria,” she replied. “Hanna was robbed and our Christmas presents were taken. She could’ve been hurt.”

Alex didn’t know what to do. If he gave Cory the go ahead, they’d see that Hanna hadn’t been in any danger at all and that meant Thomas would have a lot of explaining to do.

Yet, none of this was his idea and he didn’t like being involved in family matters. His eyes roved over Laura’s body and he nearly forgot to breathe. Her soft blonde hair, blue eyes and remarkable mouth made him want to snatch her up and find a hotel room.

But, they’d never really gotten along well enough for that to happen. He couldn’t say why, it was more of an instant dislike. Not on his part, but she’d always been pretty stand-offish with him. Anytime they had been forced to be together, Laura found a reason to keep plenty of distance between them.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” she hissed. “Just do it, Cory.”

He booted up his computer and started clicking the keys. She had no idea what he was doing because nothing on the screen made any sense to her. It was roll after roll of random numbers, letter and symbols.

“What time?” Cory asked. “Was it today?”

“Today about noon.”

“Great,” he said somberly. “The busiest time.”

“I didn’t say it would be easy,” Laura added.

“Okay, I’m in. What location was she at?”

Laura bit her lip and glanced at Alex who continued to stare at her as if she were a stick of dynamite about to blow at any moment. “I don’t know.”

“There are seven zones. We need a starting point,” Cory said.

“Why don’t you just let the police take care of this?” Alex asked. “That’s their job. We’re not equipped for petty crime.”

“We went to the police. Other than getting hit on, they wouldn’t do anything. Said Hanna would have to file the official charges.”

Alex knew the secretary couldn’t do that. There was a law against filing a false police report. He didn’t want Hanna in that deep.

“Hey, here she is,” Cory said. “It doesn’t look like she’s being robbed.”

Alex entered the room and stood behind Laura. Close enough to capture her familiar scent that drove him insane and kicked his desire into overdrive.

He forcefully made himself stay far enough back to not smell her hair. That would be too much and he feared he’d grab her up and run.

His eyes watched as Hanna put the presents into an already packed trunk. Off too her left, he noticed two men. He looked closer, brushing against Laura’s shoulder. “Pull in tight on those two people.”

Cory moved the cursor and the image of two white males in their mid-twenties came into view. They weren’t watching Hanna because they were more interested in the woman carrying a large bag in one hand, her child in the other.

“Oh, my,” Laura said. “They’re going to take that woman’s shopping bag.”

The words were no sooner out her mouth than the taller of the two stepped out, punched the woman in the face, grabbed her purse, the colorful bag and ran away. The woman lay on the concrete dazed and shaken. The child appeared upset.

A Good Samaritan came by and helped her stand. She pointed in the direction the men ran then lifted her child into her arms. She managed, with the help of another other lady, to get to her car and take out her cell phone. The poor woman probably called the police.

Laura turned to him. “Did you see that? Those thugs just ruined her Christmas and terrorized the child.” She stopped and tapped Cory on the shoulder. “Go back to Hanna. She seems oblivious to anything happening nearby.”

Cory did as told and Alex’s gut tightened. As soon as she figured out her father had tricked her, all hell would break loose.

CHAPTER 5

L aura couldn’t believe her eyes, but her intuition screamed that her father was up to something. She didn’t know what, but she’d get to the bottom of the situation or else.

Thinking back, she thought Hanna had been overly dramatic, but they were under the impression that she’d just been robbed. It was a setup and if her guess was right, Alex knew about it and was playing the front man.

She whirled on him, pointing an accusing finger. “You,” she hissed, her eyes narrowing. “You’re in on this, aren’t you?”

Alex straightened his shoulders and stared out the large picture window. She didn’t know why, all he could see were afternoon clouds. After all, they were eighteen floors up.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“The hell you aren’t.” She pressed her lips together tightly. The sleazeball. “My father put you up to this. Admit it. At least be man enough to cough it up when you’re caught red-handed.”

He narrowed his eyes and took a serious stepped forward, forcing her to back away. “Don’t you accuse me of being involved in this.” Damn it, he now pointed the damning finger. “I haven’t done a thing but come to the office, on my day off, I might add. Whatever else is going on, I have nothing to do with.”

By now all her sisters were crammed into Cory’s small office listening intently. They were used to her and Alex arguing because they did so often, but this was different.

“But you knew,” she said.

He looked away.

“You knew, damn you. You knew from the beginning Father was up to something.”

Kandice stepped forward and placed herself between them, facing her. “What did Father do?”

“I’m not sure,” Laura said. “But Hanna wasn’t robbed.”

Cynthia moved to sit on the corner of Cory’s desk, much to the IT guy’s annoyance. “Like a scavenger hunt?”

“No,” Alex answered sharply. “Not that.”

“Then what,” Laura insisted. “You spend every day with him. What’s in his crazy mind today?”

“You shouldn’t speak about your father like that. The man’s brilliant.”

“Maybe, but not when it comes to his daughters. To us he’s eccentric, mysterious and nefarious.” She waved her hand at her sisters. “Like now. We have no idea what he’s up to. But you do.”

“I’m not getting into this.”

“Maybe Father wants us to solve a case,” Madelyn said. “We’ve always known he wants us to take over his business.”

Laura turned with little patience. “There is no case. Don’t you see? He’s more anxious to see if we’ll give up. Walk away. Admit defeat.”

“Honestly,” Jacklyn said. “Do you think he’s that devious?”

“No,” Cynthia said, with a shrug. “It’s a test.”

Kandice crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “One we obviously can’t pass. How can we solve a crime that didn’t happen? And to think, I cancelled a hair appointment for nothing.”

Laura paced the small confines, her eyes taking in everything in the room. Was her father testing them? Did he think they’d give up that easily? And what would he do if they walked through the door empty-handed?

Satisfaction settled in her chest and teased her lips into a smile as she realized they’d gone at least one step further than expected. They now knew there had been no robbery, the presents weren’t taken and Hanna was a bad actress.

Now what? Go home and confront her father, or really teach him a lesson. He’d done silly things before and they’d come to expect all kinds of surprises, but nothing like this. Today’s little gig was different. Laura had a strong desire to show her father exactly what they were made of.

Laura stopped and put her hands on her hips. “Let’s go, ladies. It’s time we give Father a taste of his own shenanigans.”

“What?” Jacklyn asked.

“I don’t care what we do, but I want to eat,” Cynthia said. When they all stared at her, she lowered her brows. “Hey, I didn’t have lunch and the vending machine only had yogurt left.”

“Okay, we’ll stop for fast food,” Laura said, motioning her sisters out of the room. “We have a real crime to solve.”

“What,” Alex said, moving closer. “Don’t be foolish. That’s a good way for someone to get hurt.”

She cocked her head and their eyes met. “You and my father should’ve thought of that earlier. A good time would’ve been before coming up with this scheme.”

“Stop it,” Alex demanded. “I had no part of this. I was against it from the onset and I expressed my opinion clearly to Thomas.” He shook that damn finger at her again. “Why do you keep insisting I’d do something this insane?”

“If you’re not in on it, then you can hang with us for a while.”

He shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

“We’re going to find those two in the parking garage and bring them to justice.”

His eyes seemed to search for a safe place to land. “No, no, no.” He clutched his fists. “This is crazy. And the most foolish idea you’ve ever come up with.”

“No, for once I’m going to set my father back on his heels. He’s going to know once and for all that we’re a force to be reckoned with. We won’t back down anymore. We’re adults and he should realize that by now.”

Marching behind her, Laura’s sisters cheered as if she’d just given a moving political speech. Knowing her sisters agreed made her feel better. At least they were behind her.

Alex’s head was about to explode. What could he say to bring Laura to her senses? If they were to get hurt, he could never forgive himself and neither would his boss. He had to protect them no matter what.

“I can’t let you do this alone,” he said. “My job is to protect people. This is foolish and I can think of a hundred ways to deal with Thomas, other than putting your lives in danger.” She opened her mouth, but he held up his hand. “I understand why you’re upset with him, so you can count on me.”

Her right eye twitched. “Can I trust you to not tell my father?”

“You mean am I willing to hang my boss out to dry?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and wanted to be kissing her instead. “I am.”

“Yay,” Shouts came from the outer office.

“We’re going to get serious,” Jacklyn yelled. “New York style.”

“No, no,” Alex said raising his hands. “Not crazy or stupid.”

Jacklyn cut him a sharp glance. “You think New York is crazy and stupid?” She put her hand on her hip. “If I had my gun, I think I’d shoot you.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of opportunities before this is over.”

“Let’s kick some butt,” Kandice said. “I always wanted to be a badass.”

Madelyn stared at Kandice. “No you didn’t. You wanted to be a model from the day you were born.”

“Well,” Kandice said, waving around her expensive purse. “That’s true, but I wouldn’t mind being Wonder Woman for a day or two either.”

“Let’s go,” Laura said. “Time to rock and roll.”

Alex wanted to bang all their heads together.

Cynthia walked over to Cory. “Get up. Let’s go kick some butt.”

“Me,” he said, clutching his chest, his eyes the size of his monitor. “I’m an IT guy. I don’t fight.”

Cynthia crooked her index finger at him. “Come on, boss’s orders.”

“No, there is no boss here,” Cory insisted. “Except Alex.”

She stopped and stared at him. “Are you afraid?”

“No, no.” he stammered. “It’s just not what I do.”

Alex felt sorry for Cory being under the younger Avery’s command.

She put her hands on her hips and leaned toward him. “Well, Alex has agreed to help. That means you too. Get off your ass and follow us.”

“What,” Cory said in a panic. “Alex, tell them I’m just the IT guy.”

Alex took him by the arm. “Best you come with us. I might need you for moral support.”

“Oh, God. Don’t say that.”

CHAPTER 6

T  homas didn’t like the fact that neither his wife nor the housekeeper would speak to him at dinner. They were positively angry at him to the point he might as well be eating in the garage. “Everything will be fine. Alex is with them.” He tried to reassure Amanda.

His wife sliced into her roast beef and took a delicate bite. Nothing hurt him more than when she refused to communicate with him. They’d been a loving, caring couple since the day they met and the last thing he wanted was to argue. Amanda was better at than he was. She could be so heartless, like now.

“I’m sure,” Thomas said, trying to thaw out his wife’s demeanor, “the girls will be coming home, empty-handed and starving.”

Amanda looked pointedly at each place setting on the table. Five were empty, reminding Thomas of his fool-hearted attempt at teaching the girls to be persistent. At the moment they had no idea where the girls were because none would answer their phones, including Alex. They were teaching him a lesson, it would appear.

“By now they know you’ve deceived them, Thomas.”

While he was relieved Amanda was talking to him, he didn’t like what she said. “I’m sure they do. So why aren’t they home?”

“If I were them I’d stay away tonight to make you worry about my whereabouts.”

“That’s a rather cruel thing to do to their father.”

Amanda sent him a scorching look that nearly singed his eyebrows. “Serves you right, if you ask me.”

“I’m not asking, my dear,” he replied politely. “I’ve certainly learned my lesson.”

“That’s a good start.”

He put his fork down. “What do you mean?”

“I think it’s time you consider doing something else with your business besides leaving it to our daughters who don’t want a thing to do with that albatross.”

If he’d had food in his mouth, Thomas might have choked to death. “Albatross?”

“Yes, it’s rather a pain, don’t you think?”

Thomas reached down, snatched the linen napkin from his lap and tossed it on the table. “No, I do not think my company is burden to anyone. Especially you.”

“Thomas, I...”

“Not another word,” he bellowed, coming to his feet. “Allow me to remind you that everything you wear, eat and are surrounded by was provided by that business. I refuse to sit here and allow you to pass judgement on the very thing that’s sustained you and our children for forty years.”

“I think you misunderstand, Thomas.”

“I have not. You, my dear, have become quite the snob.” He lifted his chin. “I also blame that on my very successful business.”

He turned and left the room. While he would allow Amanda certain liberties to criticize him, Avery Security Service was off-limits. That business had provided this family with a damn good life, and it deserved the respect and admiration of the entire family.

At the door he put on his winter coat. Amanda came into the foyer. “Where are you going? It’s forecasted to snow.”

“I’m going to the club. No one here appreciates me.” He walked out and slammed the door, only to realize he had no way to open the garage door and get to his car. When he turned, Amanda stood smiling as she held the door open. Cocking his head, he nodded and headed for the garage.

Backing out his wife’s Mercedes, Thomas wondered if he’d been a little harsh. Perhaps, but it was time Avery Security Service stopped being taken for granted. He was proud of the company he’d started from nothing. They had no idea the money he made or the money they spent. He’d dedicated a large part of his life the company and he wasn’t about to let his hard work and diligence be insulted.

At the club he went to the bar and ordered bourbon straight up. Relaxing, he took a sip and allowed the smooth liquor to slid down his throat and spread warmth across his chest. He needed that.

Looking around at the Christmas decorations and hearing the holiday music playing softly over the PA system captured his attention, and guilt gnawed at his chest.

It was Christmas after all. And here he’d ruined everything. The girls weren’t home and they obviously refused to take his calls. They’d sent a clear message. It appeared they knew about his little scheme and were punishing him for trying to manipulate them and being deceptive.

“How’s it going, Mr. Avery,” Sam the bartender said, as he wiped down the counter. The young man with an excellent head of red hair was a friendly sort of fellow that knew when to start a conversation and when to be scarce. “I expected to see you last night.”

Thomas chuckled. “The girls were a day later than usual.”

Sam shook his head. “I have one child. I can’t imagine five.” He whistled softly. “And girls, no way. My wife and I would be insane by now.”

“Oh, it’s been an exciting life.”

“I bet they used to keep you and Mrs. Avery on your toes.”

“They still do.” Damn them. He wanted to shake them silly for making him worry so much. And why in the hell wasn’t Alex picking up his phone? They probably had him tied up somewhere, planning to hold him for ransom.

“You ready for Christmas? All the shopping done?”

“Everything’s wrapped up neatly and stashed underneath the tree.”

With the holidays, the club was nearly empty. People were home with friends and family while he sat there feeling miserable.

Sam waved to a departing customer and began washing glasses. “I bet you have a lot of memories of this time of year.”

He chuckled. “Way too many. I could have you laughing on the floor in a matter of minutes. You don’t have five daughters without drama, accidents and pranks. It comes with the territory.”

“My son is only three and already he’s excited about Santa coming.”

“Times before the teen years are magical. Then they hit puberty and your life changes...dramatically.”

“I’m not looking forward to that.”

Best he didn’t. Their whole house exploded into a nightmare as the girls grew older. They were all so different, and yet similar in strange ways. Aw well, he wouldn’t have missed it for anything. But he did worry about them.

Standing, he tossed a handsome tip on the bar and turned to leave. “Merry Christmas,” he called out. “And a Happy New Year.”

“Same to you and your family, Mr. Avery.”

Thomas got back in his car and headed home. He had fences to mend and apologies to make. Two things he wasn’t good at.

CHAPTER 7

L aura went into the mall and came out loaded down with packages while her sisters, Alex and Cory waited for the robbers to jump out. She made it all the way to the car, stopped, prowled through her purse for her cell phone and made a fake call.

Chatting to no one, she leaned against the vehicle trying to look distracted. The only problem was this was their third attempt at that ploy and nothing had happened so far. The bell ringer for a local charity gave her the stink eye when she passed by her again and didn’t donate.

Laura wondered if the thieves might be working another spot, or even another mall? She didn’t practice criminal law, so she had no idea how their minds worked, but they fake shopper wasn’t working.

At the back of her father’s Escalade, she put her bags down and continued to pretend she was talking on the phone. What did a girl have to do to get robbed around here?

After ten minutes, they all agreed to meet up at a local coffee shop and discuss strategy. Alex and Cory reluctantly followed behind them. Everyone was convinced that no one would rob someone as obvious as they had been.

None of them had liked Laura’s idea from the start. Her sisters, and especially Alex, with his laid-back Texas drawl that dripped with honey, complained the entire time. He’d told her right off that coming to the mall and pretending to be a customer in hopes the two thugs would jump out to rob them had been foolish.

Now, as they left the mall, she realized how right he’d been and that made her madder. Not at him, but at herself for insisting she knew what she was doing when it was obvious she didn’t. What would she do if those two men had approached her? Laura thought she was annoyed enough to take them down herself without any assistance from the others.

Inside the crowded coffee shop, a miracle happened and they were able to pull two tables close so they could sit together.

Sipping hot chocolate, Cynthia propped her chin on her palm and sighed. “This is boring.”

“Isn’t it,” Madelyn agreed. “I’d much rather be home drinking eggnog.”

“I’m sure we all would, but then we’d be empty-handed and duped,” Laura reminded them.

“Listen,” Jacklyn said. “I’m a detective in New York and these rings of holiday robberies are tough to crack. My guess is those two men work in a much bigger group. They take turns hitting different shopping areas at different times.”

“That means they could be anywhere,” Alex said. “And tough to pin down.”

Laura closed her eyes, counted to ten then opened them. “What do you suggest?”

The amused looked on his face made her regret bringing him along.

“Go home. Tell your dad you’re wise to the set-up and enjoy the holiday.”

“And what do you think he’ll say?”

“My guess is he’ll apologize.”

“Not our father,” Kandice said. “He’d give us a lecture on how easily we gave up and that it took us long enough to discover his little trick.”

“She’s right,” Madelyn said. “Dad loves to rub things in our faces. He’s not mean about it, but he likes to prove how clever he is.”

Alex cleared his throat. “He is clever and this is his territory. You can’t get much by him in the security world. He’s on top of his profession.”

Laura stood. “That’s why we’re not giving up until we have something to show we gave this our best shot.”

“Okay,” Jacklyn said. “Let’s get back to work. We’ll stop for dinner in an hour or so.”

“What if you don’t catch the guys tonight?” Cory asked, putting a lid on his cup. “I mean, tomorrow is Christmas Eve.”

“With all this going on, I’ve almost forgotten about the holidays,” Madelyn said. “Even with all the decorations, the ringing bells and the children, I’m missing the most wonderful time of the year.”

They turned to glare at Laura.

“We’re all missing something,” Kandice said, “Home.”

Laura felt horrible. Her obsession to prove her father wrong had everyone blaming her for playing Nancy Drew. She wanted to go home too, but she wanted to be taken seriously more. “Fine, I’ll drop you all off at home.” She walked to the door, not waiting to see who followed.

As she sat behind the wheel of the SUV, Alex tapped on the driver’s side window. “You’re making the right decision. It’s best everyone goes home and puts this behind them.”

“I’m taking them home, but I’m going to continue searching.” As she rolled the window up, Laura showed him her perfect teeth in an insincere smile. “Merry Christmas.”

“Wait,” he shouted, putting his hand on the top of the window. “You can’t go alone.”

“Sure I can,” she said, raising her brows. “I’m all grown up.”

Alex knew this was a mistake and nothing, absolutely nothing, good would come from the situation. “Laura, I know you don’t like me, but if you’re determined to go through with this witch hunt, at least let me go with you.”

“It’s Christmas. Don’t you have better things to do?”

“I spend Christmas Day at my sister’s house. That’s the extent of my holidays until New Year’s Eve.”

“You’ve done all your shopping?”

“Sis does that for me.”

She stared out the windshield, and he knew she was trying to figure out a way to brush him off. Little did she know, but Alex was determined to stay with her, if for no other reason than to ease Thomas’s mind.”

“Follow me. I’ll drop off my father’s car, and we can go in yours.”

“I’m sending Cory home, too.”

She glanced at the geek who’d done little more than complain.

“Okay.”

“Are you having dinner first?”

“No,” Laura answered. “I’m not even going inside.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. “I’ll follow and be waiting in the driveway.”

CHAPTER 8

L aura pulled the SUV into the garage and watched her sisters get out of the vehicle. They were relieved to be home to a warm meal, a tree to finish decorating and a gloating father.

“You girls have fun.”

Kandice turned. “Aren’t you coming in?”

“I’m off to catch a crook.” She took her purse and shut the car door. Having no intentions of facing her father tonight, she said, “I’ll see you tomorrow sometime.”

“You always were the most stubborn of the five. Where are you going to sleep?” Kandice asked.

“I’ll get a room.”

Cynthia’s gaze turned to the end of the driveway. “Maybe you could stay with Alex,” she smiled shyly. “That would be a nice Christmas present.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, Squirt, but not going to happen.”

Jacklyn followed Cynthia’s observation. “You know, she’s kind of right. The man’s a looker.”

“Yeah, but I’m not looking.”

She tossed Kandice the keys and walked down to the end of the driveway and got into Alex’s car. It felt good not to be driving and away from her sisters. “You want to go to the mall?” she asked, hoping to get down to business and then find a room.

“After we grab a bite to eat. I skipped lunch and I’m hungry.”

“What about a quick sandwich? I’d really like to get this over with as soon as possible.”

What she wanted was out of his car and as far away from him as possible. Being an attorney in Dallas meant that on occasion they ran into each other doing business. But, she made it a point to rarely visit her father’s office or have much to do with the security company.

And he was the main reason for her avoidance. She tried to stay away from Alex. Looking at him, she didn’t imagine he cared much for her, either. The times her father had company parties and socials, Laura found a reason not to be there or made herself scarce.

Alex pulled in front of a very nice local restaurant and handed the keys to the valet.

She asked, “Can we get in here without reservations?”

“I made them while I was following you home.”

She didn’t like him being that sure of the situation. “And you magically got in.”

“I’m a regular. They didn’t have a problem finding me a table.”

“With the holidays, I assumed most restaurants were booked solid with family and out-of-town guests.” Laura looked down at her outfit and cringed. “I’m really not dressed for a place like this. Maybe we should hit the closest McDonald’s.”

“You look perfectly fine.”

Liar.

They were led inside and seated at a nice table. If the manager found her attire inappropriate, he didn’t say a word when he personally showed them to their seats. There had been a few looks here and there, but not enough to make her uncomfortable.

She opened the menu. “They should throw me out.”

He folded his hands on the table and ordered a bottle of wine when the waiter showed up. “I know the owner. We’re welcome.”

Another plus. He knows the owner.

How many could say that about a place of this caliber? The walls reeked of money and elegance. She’d often heard that this was the place visiting movie stars and singers came when they were in town.

The waiter took their order and she chose chicken and he decided on steak. They ate in an uncomfortable silence. She didn’t think it was a good idea for him to buy her dinner because she didn’t want to feel indebted to him. So when the check arrived she tried to wrestle it out of his hand. Hard stares from the other customers had her backing off, too embarrassed to continue.

“I really don’t want you paying for my dinner,” she hissed. “It’s not necessary.”

“Consider it a Christmas present.”

“I didn’t get you anything, so it would be rude of me to accept one from you.”

“Now you’re just being silly.” He stood, holding out his hand, which she refused. “Come on, we have a crook to catch, remember?”

Laura wondered who she was fooling. As they stood outside in the cold, dreary weather she wondered why Alex was doing this. He was a pro. That meant he knew the chances of catching these guys were slim to zero and yet he went along with her. Now he’d even stopped complaining and they’d kind of sort of enjoyed dinner.

Now she felt worse. When the car came, she stepped in and turned to him. “Are you patronizing me?”

“No,” he said, twisting so he could look her in the eyes. “I thought I was helping.”

She averted her gaze. “No, you don’t. There are no criminals out there we can catch. No ring to break up and no hope of being anything but foolish in my attempt to be one up on my father.”

“I think you’re being a little rough on yourself, Laura.”

She looked at him to see if he was snickering. If he was, she’d walk home. Well, she’d actually call one of her sisters to pick her up. Her parents’ home was across town. “You know, since I was a kid my dad has found a way to show me that he was always going to be better than me at anything he put his mind to.”

“Thomas is pretty strong-willed, but he does love you.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. I doubt his willingness to call a truce and just be a parent.”

“He knows you have tremendous talent at everything. Why do you think he’s leaving his business to you? He gets offers every day. Hell, I’ve even thrown out a proposal.”

She crossed her arms. “I wish he’d sell the damn thing.”

“It’s his gift to you girls.”

“It’s a curse and you know it. We all do. Why can’t he see that?”

“The company is all he’s ever known. He served in the military then came back, worked in security, saved his money and opened his own firm. Avery Security Service is his life.”

“I wish my mother would’ve done us all a good service and provided him with a glorious son.”

Alex laughed and Laura found the sound pleasing to her ear. “He wouldn’t have his life any other way. Having a son would’ve been too boring. Besides, there’s no guarantee a son would want the business either”

She grinned at him. “Maybe you’re right.”

Alex pulled out of the parking lot and merged into traffic. “What do you say we check out a few malls?”

“Really?”

He glanced at her. “Yes, really. But, I don’t want you going in and coming out with a bag. We don’t need you to be bait. Let’s cruise around and see if anyone looks suspicious.”

“That might get us arrested.”

“No, all of us lurking around a parking lot hoping to get robbed would more likely get us put in jail. I’d be surprised if the cops aren’t at my door tomorrow after they review the cameras.”

They headed toward the suburb of Grapevine, and Laura enjoyed the festive decorations. It didn’t normally snow at Christmas in the Dallas/Fort Worth area, but that didn’t dampen anyone’s spirits when it came to holiday cheer.

They stopped at the Town Square and listened to the carolers dressed in costume. The massive tree was all red and silver with huge packages wrapped beneath the boughs. Frosty walked around handing out candy canes, and Mrs. Claus had a booth with free cookies and hot chocolate.

“This is nice,” Alex said, blowing on his drink. “I’ve never been here during the holiday season. It’s really festive.”

“You’ve never gone to the ice display at the Gaylord?”

He shook his head.

This guy really didn’t celebrate the holidays at all. She found that a little sad. “Is there just you and your sister?”

“Oh, no. I have a brother in Colorado, and another sister in Kansas City.”

“You don’t get together for Christmas?”

“No,” he said softly. “There was a bit of an argument the last holiday we all got together so now we avoid that kind of drama by just making a quick phone call or sending cards.”

“Why don’t you come to our house?”

“Your father asks every year. I felt I would be intruding, and I know I’m not your favorite person to be around.”

Embarrassment warmed her cheeks and she turned away. “That’s not true.”

“Sure it is and that’s okay. I don’t want to be where I’m not really welcome.”

“I’ve never said I didn’t like you.”

“No, but you sure do a good job of avoiding me.”

A little kid with a bright face ran between them to catch up with some other children.

“Do we still want to go looking for trouble?” she asked, trying to change the subject to something safer. How do you tell a man you’re not comfortable around him because he’s too attractive? That you’re sick of being rejected by the opposite sex? Or that all past relationships had failed?

She had a dating track record that would send anyone else to a therapist. For some reason she’d yet to meet the perfect man for her. Looking at Alex made her question her choices. She’d always claimed she didn’t like him because he was too buttoned down. Too tidy, too clean-cut.

Laura shook her head; they’d known each other for years, and yes, she’d avoided him and maybe that was for the best. She felt so inadequate in his company.

They strolled to his car then drove to the Grapevine Mills Mall. Going row by row in the parking lot, they didn’t see a single thing out of the ordinary. However, they did get stopped by a policeman.

CHAPTER 9

A lex knew it was going to happen. Those police perches were manned this time of year, and a car driving around the parking lot for an hour, bypassing coveted parking spaces was suspicious.

“Good evening, officer,” he said, taking out his driver’s license and reaching across her lap to the glovebox for his insurance and registration.

A flashlight was shinned in his face. “You’ve been observed driving around. Did you lose something, sir?”

“No, my girlfriend and I were just working out a few problems.”

Laura leaned down, looked at the officer and smiled. “We’re not doing anything wrong, are we?”

They weren’t but the policeman didn’t know that.

“No, ma’am, I’m just wondering why you’re driving around at such a busy time.”

The cop left to run Alex’s license.

“Please don’t tell me you’re wanted in five states for murder.”

“No, but there was that time in El Paso.” Alex grinned, hoping to break the tension. She was nervous and cops didn’t like it when potential troublemakers got antsy.

“I don’t think they can detain us like this. We’ve done nothing wrong.” The lawyer in her came out, and she reached for the door.

He touched her arm. “Don’t do anything. He’s going to give me my license and tell us to be on our way. This isn’t the time to make a point. After all, we can’t say we’re out here looking for criminals.”

He managed to change her mind, but the stubborn set of her jaw told him this wasn’t over. If the cop made one wrong move, she’d throw her attorney card on the table.

It wasn’t long before he came back. “Sir, it says you work for Avery Security Service and you have a permit to carry a gun. Do you have a weapon on you on in the vehicle?”

“No sir, I don’t.”

The man in uniform visibly relaxed. “Okay. That’s too much paperwork to fill out. Are you out here on a case?”

“No, not really. We just came from Main Street and thought we’d take in the sights.”

“My advice is to head on home now. You and your girlfriend have had plenty of time to see everything.”

“That’s exactly where we’re heading.”

They drove away and Alex let out a sigh of relief. He didn’t know who he feared would make the wrong move, Laura or the police officer.

“Where to now?” he asked. “You want to head somewhere else?”

“No, I think I’ll just check into a hotel and start my search in the morning after I rent a car.”

He stopped at the red light. “Why don’t you stay at my house and we can get an early start?”

She looked like he’d just grown two heads. “Your house? I can’t stay there.”

“Why not?” he asked, without giving it much thought. “I have a perfectly good spare bedroom. You’re welcome to it.” He looked around. “I don’t think you’re going to find much available tonight with all the out-of-town guests.”

She must’ve realized he was right because she stared down at her hands. “I should just give up and go home. Maybe I am being stubborn, but Dad has pulled this kind of stuff before. He needs to stop and appreciate us for who we are.”

Alex didn’t want her to do that. He was enjoying her company too much to drop her off at her parents’ house. For an unknown reason, he wanted to help her defeat her father. If only in a small way.

He knew the odds of them finding a crook were small, but maybe they could witness something, find a lost item, or perhaps help someone out. Because she looked so damned pretty, he wanted to do something that would help to elevate Laura’s status in her father’s eyes.

“I think that would be a little uncomfortable, don’t you?”

“Not at all. My house is plenty big enough for both of us. And you’d be sleeping on the other side of the house.”

“I don’t want to impose.”

“The bed is empty.”

“You sure you don’t mind?” she said softly. “I just don’t want to go home tonight. Dad can’t help but gloat.”

“Let’s stop by the convenience store and grab a six-pack and some chips, and we’ll call it a night.”

“I’d rather have eggnog, homemade cookies and fudge.”

He turned to see if she was kidding. Thankfully, she tossed him a gentle smile. “But I’ll settle for beer, and chips and salsa.”

“Deal.” She looked down at her sweater and doubt clouded her eyes. “I have no extra clothing or even a toothbrush.”

“You’ll survive one night.”

Alex wondered what the hell he’d gotten into. While he had feelings for Laura, he didn’t know if her spending the night was a good thing for his heart. Of course, he knew nothing sexual would happen. Still, he wasn’t completely comfortable with her beneath his roof.

What would Thomas say? They’d never discussed him being with Laura. They could claim this was just a friendship thing. She didn’t feel comfortable going home, and he offered his spare bed.

There, plain and simple with no explanation needed. Unless Thomas pried, then he’d know that Alex had helped Laura in her pursuit of the non-existent robber and that they’d had dinner and she’d ended up in his home.

That wouldn’t sound good if Thomas became too inquisitive. He knew his job wasn’t in jeopardy and that Thomas trusted him with everything in the business. He hoped that also extended to his daughter.

She waited in the car while he ran inside the store and grabbed the drinks and snacks. Back in the vehicle, he drove to his house and inwardly thanked his lucky stars that his cleaning lady had been there today.

“We’re all set for a comfortable night on the couch watching Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” he said. “Doesn’t that sound exciting?”

“I guess.” Doubt gathered in her blue eyes that were remarkably similar to his own. “You won’t get into trouble with Father, will you?”

“We’re both adults. What can he say?”

She hefted a heavy sigh and said, “Okay, I’m game if you are.”

CHAPTER 10

O nce inside Alex’s home, Laura’s discomfort grew to new heights. Being in her father’s employee’s house wasn’t exactly where she wanted to be. Suddenly this seemed like a bad idea, but she had no way to gracefully bow out and not hurt his feelings.

Damn her father.

While she stood in the middle of a very nicely decorated living room with an open, but chic décor, Alex disappeared into the kitchen. Standing at the counter, he opened the beer, poured the salsa in a bowl and grabbed the bag of chips

In the living room he cleared off the coffee table and put everything down. “Have a seat and get comfortable.”

Laura looked at the choices. There was a big comfortable couch, a leather recliner and a small accent chair. She opted for the farthest from the couch which meant the chair. It was also a long way from the coffee table.

He took off his suit coat, removed his tie and undid the top button on his white shirt. Then he slowly rolled up his sleeves, exposing muscular forearms dusted lightly with fine hair. He kicked off his shoes and pulled the end of his shirt out of his pants. For all the years she’d known him, never once had she seen him in such a relaxed state of dress. Instead, he’d been buttoned up tightly without a hair out of place. Meticulous was the word she’d use to describe him. Alex wasn’t your regular rugged, untamed stud. All his power was carefully hidden behind a façade of controlled temperament.

Looking away, she didn’t like when Alex pulled a reaction out of her, even when she stubbornly refused to acknowledge he was in the room. Standing in the middle of the floor, she crossed her arms. “This is a nice place.”

He eased down on the couch. “I like it.”

“You,” she said, licking her lips, “live here alone?”

He stilled and their gazes clashed. “You think I’d invite you to my home if there was another woman?”

“Well.” She swallowed. “We are just friends.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t do that.” He wrinkled his nose. “Too tacky.”

He was right and she’d been rude to bring it up.

She ignored the chair and plopped down on the floor next to the chips and beer. Dinner had been delicious, but she’d eaten very little. Being with Alex in a fabulous restaurant wearing her yoga pants and a sweater had made her more uncomfortable than she could imagine.

After watching TV for a while, they finished the last beers, and she stood up and stretched. “Where do I sleep?”

“Right through there.” He pointed to the other side of the kitchen.

“Goodnight,” she called out on her way to bed. “Thanks for letting me crash here.”

“Not a problem.” Maybe not for her, but Alex was having a difficult time being in the same room with her and not at least trying to steal a kiss. The only thing stopping him was the thought that she’d smack him.

He cleaned up the mess on the coffee table and went into his bedroom. He showered and crawled into bed naked, as usual. But he couldn’t stop thinking about her being so close to him. Having Laura in his house made him toss and turn.

He’d no sooner drifted off into a troubled sleep when he heard a bloodcurdling scream. He jumped from bed, slipped on his shorts, grabbed his gun and ran into the living room, right into the arms of Laura.

“There’s someone trying to break in.”

She hugged his bare chest and practically climbed up his body. Looking around, Alex noticed the French doors to the backyard were open. He peeled her off of him and placed her safely in a corner. “Stay right there while I look around. The alarm didn’t go off so I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“But there was a loud pop. Like a gunshot.”

When he tried the light, Alex realized why. The power was out. And the wind and trees swaying against the house made an eerie sound.

He walked over and looked around the bedroom. A tree limb had blown against the window, leaving a big hole. Rain had come in because he stood on a wet carpet. Outside, the storm stirred madly. A few limbs lay in his yard and his neighbor had lost a large tree.

He went back to her. “It’s a really bad storm. We’ve lost power, and I can barely see outside, but several branches are down, as well as a few trees.”

“That must’ve been what I heard.”

“No, the pop was probably from a transformer.”

“So what do we do?”

That’s when he noticed she wore nothing but her sweater. His mouth went dry as he squinted into the darkness to get a better look. Her long legs were beautiful in the dim light.

She grabbed his bicep. “What do we do?”

“We can’t go outside. Driving is out of the question. There might be live wires down.”

“So, we’re trapped here?”

“Not exactly trapped. We can easily ride out the storm.”

“You don’t think a tree will fall on the roof.”

He instinctively looked up. “I sure hope not.”

She glanced at the darkened living room. “I think I might sleep on the couch.”

He took a flashlight out of a kitchen drawer and led her back to the spare room. “Get dressed and we’ll sleep in my bed.”

She stopped in mid-step. “Are you kidding?”

“No, I’m not,” he said, turning to stare at her. “It’s the dead of winter, and we have no heat. The storm won’t blow over for a while. How do you suggest we stay warm?”

She quickly bundled up the blankets off the bed and grabbed her clothing. Dragging them to the couch, she stubbed her toes several times on the way, as well as walking into a solid wall before she tossed the covers down.

“I’m sleeping right here.”

“That’s fine with me, but you’re going to get cold.”

“I’m tougher than I look,” she said, shoving her long hair out of her face.

Funny, her standing there in his living room, she’d never looked so small and vulnerable. “Suit yourself. I’m putting my pants on should you get cold.”

He returned to his bed and scooted beneath the covers. It would get a lot colder before the night was over.

CHAPTER 11

L aura was as frozen as a Popsicle and her toes were numb. The couch was uncomfortable, and a mountain of blankets wasn’t enough to get her warm. She stood, slung the biggest blanket over her shoulder and braved the forbidden area.

Alex’s bedroom.

She didn’t dare walk in there. What would he think? Her thoughts were a mess as her body shook and trembled from the freezing temperatures.

Unable to feel her toes, she strode toward his open, inviting door. She tapped lightly. He rose immediately and grabbed the gun on his nightstand. “What?”

“I’m freezing,” she said with her teeth chattering. “I can’t sleep.”

He put the gun down and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Then he tossed back the covers as an open invitation for her to join him. She took one pensive step over the threshold of the room and stopped.

“Come here, before you freeze.” He looked toward the window. “It will be daylight soon. Let’s get what little sleep we can.”

“I don’t know. You and I in the same bed together isn’t a good idea.”

He laid his head back on the pillow. “Suit yourself. I’m exhausted.”

Shivering, she darted to his bed, crawled beneath the covers and scrunched into the fetal position to keep warm.

“Come here,” he said, pulling her against his bare chest. “Let’s be sensible. It’s cold and we’re simply going to use each other’s heat to stay warm.”

She didn’t feel that was the situation at all. She was in Alex’s home, now in his bed. What were the odds nothing was going to happen? With her still shaking, he pulled her tightly against him and her heart did flip-flops inside her chest. As her discomfort increased, so did the warmth.

Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.

Alex woke to the furnace working and the light on his bedside clock blinking. The power was back on, but cute little Laura Avery was stuck to him like wallpaper. Both her arms were around his neck, her legs were entwined with his and her face was tucked seductively into the crook of his neck.

Not a bad way to wake up.

Knowing it wasn’t a good idea to linger, he untangled her from his body and stepped into the shower. He dressed quickly and went into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee, only to find he didn’t have any in the cupboard.

Debating on making a coffee run, he decided against it because he didn’t want her to panic if she woke up alone. So he waited for her to come out of the bedroom.

It didn’t take long. Wearing her rumpled clothes, her hair all tangled around her face, she said, “Please say you have coffee.”

“No, fresh out. But if you hurry, we can go to a small shop right down the street. They make delicious pastries as well.”

She looked down at her clothes. “I’m a mess.”

“Just comb your hair. No one will notice and if they do, so what?”

“I don’t have a brush.”

“Feel free to use anything in my bathroom.”

She disappeared, only to return in a matter of a few minutes. Shrugging on her coat, she headed for the door.

“You must be a morning coffee person,” he said with a chuckle.

“I’m an all-day coffee person.”

After driving around several blocks of debris all over the roads, they finally made it to the little neighborhood coffee shop. He could only imagine what the main thoroughfares looked like.

Getting out of the car, Alex and Laura made their way inside. The place was busy, but most people were lined up at the carryout station. They quickly found a table and soon had a piping hot cup of coffee clutched in their hands. He breathed in the rich aroma and moaned. “They make the best coffee.”

“I hope so. I’m in desperate need today.”

“I’m sorry about last night. By the surrounding area, it looks like that storm was pretty bad.”

“I apologize for moving into your bed, but I was so cold.”

“It’s okay,” he said then took a sip of coffee. “If you don’t mind, let’s keep that between us. I rather your father didn’t find out we slept together.”

Lowering her gaze, she winced. “I agree that wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“Well, tonight you get to sleep in your room at your parents’ house.”

As she sipped the morning brew, Laura didn’t look happy.

“I was a little surprised to learn that the elegant, sophisticated and intelligent Laura Avery snores like a buzz saw,” he said.

Instantly her gaze met his flashing blue eyes. “That’s not true.”

He held up his hand. “Scout’s honor.”

“I don’t snore.”

“Yes, you do. I must say the man you marry is going to have a lot to overcome. I’m a pretty sound sleeper, and you woke me up several times. I even tried rolling you over on your side, but it didn’t work.”

Laura’s face felt like she’d been in the sun for hours. It was nice that they could have coffee together in a light mood. Their pastries came, and she leaned toward him. Seeing the glint in his eyes, she realized he was kidding. “That’s a lie, Alex Sanders. I do not snore.”

Shrugging nonchalantly, he rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say. But, I’d warn any man I planned to stay with. A guy has a right to know he’s sleeping next to a diesel engine.”

Her lips tightened and she squinted her eyes. “I’ve never had any complaints before,” she said smugly. “None at all.”

“You sure they were human?”

Angry, she drank her coffee, ate her pastry and glared at him. “You’re mean.”

“Truthful.”

“That’s according to you.”

He laughed. “I’m only teasing.” He propped his chin on his palm. “So, how many complaints have you had?”

Her mouth formed a perfect O and her eyes widened. “That’s a very personal question to ask.”

He shrugged. “Just curious.”

“Well, don’t be. That’s rude.”

Laura had never been asked such a question so bluntly, and it shocked her that Alex would even care. “I’d never expect you to answer a question like that.”

“Good,” he said, putting down his cup. “Because I wouldn’t.”

Tilting her head, Laura glared. “Then why ask me?”

“I’m just in an ornery mood today. You have to forgive me. I didn’t get much sleep.”

“I’d rather punch you.”

He lifted his dark brows and changed the subject. “You like the coffee and pastry?”

“It’s delicious, but not good enough to make me forget how ill-mannered you are.”

Alex leaned back and gave her a crooked, but sexy smile. “Oh, I’m not that bad.”

“Yes, you are.” She shook her head and tsked. “Asking a lady such a question.”

“I only did it because your father has never mentioned you having anyone special.” He leaned closer. “It’s almost like you never date.”

Her chest constricted and her mouth went dry. It wasn’t that she never dated. So far, none of them ever really interested her. And when she forced herself, it ended badly. Really badly.

“Who are you? Dr. Phil? I’ve gone out with all the guys I wanted to. I’m just not into speed dating. And in no hurry for a serious relationship.”

He slowly shook his head. “You don’t feel your biological clock ticking?”

As their cups were being refilled, she waved her hand. “The female species doesn’t do that anymore. Having a family isn’t every career woman’s dream.”

“So, no kids or husband for you?”

“I’m not sure.” She nibbled on her bottom lip and tried not to sound like she was desperate for an excuse not to be married. “I haven’t met the right one yet.”

“Hmm, would you recognize him if you saw him?”

She thought about that for a few minutes. Maybe she wouldn’t because she’d had so many bad experiences. Sneaking a glance at Alex, Laura couldn’t help but wonder if he was the right one.

Sleeping next to him last night had been the most exciting thing she’d done with a man in years and they hadn’t even had sex. Yet, she’d been content to cuddle up next to him.

Inwardly groaning, she looked away. This wasn’t in the cards for her. Her father would have a fit. Alex was so handsome she wondered if he’d eventually wander off to an affair, and just why he wasn’t married.

“Let’s talk about you,” she said, her brows lifted. “No wife and kids in the future?”

A smile stretched his mouth. “There’s nothing I’d like more. I dream of a house full of kids and a wonderful wife who likes to cook.”

Well, that counted her out. No house full of kids for her, and cooking was an art she had no desire to learn. “Have you found someone like that?”

“Not yet, but I will.”

“So, she just has to be willing to reproduce and be Martha Stewart, huh?”

“Not just that. I admire intelligence, a witty personality, a sexy maniac in bed and someone I can grow old with.” He grinned. “Hopefully she won’t snore.”

She sent him a sarcastic smile. “You’re so charming.”

“I know.” He gave her a toothy grin she was sure he knew would only annoy her.

“Shall I get you home?”

She huffed out a breath then rose to her feet. “I guess. I might as well face Father’s wrath and get it over with.”

They stood to leave when suddenly two guys pushed through the door. One held a gun. “Don’t nobody move or they’re dead.”

Alex reached over and pulled her against his side. “Be calm,” he whispered.

She nodded, not wanting to have anything to do with the robbery in progress. She held up her shaking hands. Alex seemed cool and observant.

The men were in their early twenties, one tall, the other shorter. Then it dawned on Laura. Those were the guys. The same ones they’d made out on the mall surveillance camera.

So, they not only stole from people coming out of the malls, they worked the small businesses too. “That’s them.”

“Shh,” Alex hissed.

The shorter man walked up to her, placing his face inches from hers. “What’d you say?”

“Nothing, nothing at all,” she said, shaking her head. Suddenly her knees grew weak with fear.

The robber put his fist in her face and gritted his teeth. “Another word and you’re dead.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat and inched closer to Alex.

“And don’t go thinking your man there can save you, ’cause he can’t.”

“Leave her alone,” Alex said. “She’s just scared.” He looked around. “We all are. Take what you want and leave.”

The taller man who’d ordered the cashier to put the contents of the register in a plastic Walmart bag moved closer. “Don’t go telling us what to do.” He raised the gun. “All you, empty your purses and pockets on the table.”

Several people did as instructed, but when she reached for her purse, Alex stopped her. “Take the money and get out. Leave these people alone.”

The man with the gun stuck it in Alex’s face. “How about I blow your head off?”

“There’s a big difference between waving a gun around and killing someone in cold blood,” Alex said. “Go on, do yourself a favor and leave before someone gets hurt and you end up spending the rest of your life in prison.”

The gunman cocked the weapon. Before he could bring it down to shoot, Laura grabbed the glass sugar dispenser and threw it. She struck the man in the head. He screamed, grabbing his temple. While the robber was distracted, Alex pulled out his weapon and fired twice in the man’s chest. Sliding down, the thief looked surprised that his life was coming to an end.

Alex pointed his gun at the smaller guy who headed toward the door. “Hold it right there and get on the floor.” When the man followed his directions, Alex said. “Someone call 911.”

CHAPTER 12

A lex stayed and answered the police officers’ questions. He mentioned he’d seen the man lurking around the mall yesterday in hopes they’d check out the cameras.

When they were given permission to leave, Laura grabbed his arm and held on tight. “I can’t say how frightened I was.”

“It all turned out fine and no innocent people were harmed. That’s the result you’re always looking for.”

“Who would’ve thought someone would try to rob a small coffee shop in the middle of the day.”

“Someone who knew the place takes in a lot of cash on a day like this. Do you feel better now?”

She glanced at him. “I don’t understand.”

“You caught the two men who were robbing people at the mall. Wasn’t that your goal?”

“It was, but it’s not exactly how I thought it would happen.” She glanced at him. “Besides, you actually caught them. I was just there having coffee.”

“I don’t know if we would have had the same outcome if you hadn’t smacked him with that sugar dispenser. The way I see it, the bad guy is locked up and the other one is dead. Maybe that’s all you need to say.”

She released him and stepped back. “Lie?” Turning away, she glanced back. “I could never lie to my father and I wouldn’t for this anyway.”

“Okay, so what then?”

“I’m satisfied that I tried my best to find them. Yes, in the end they found me, but I stayed with it and I would be out there right now if this hadn’t happened.”

“And what’s the moral of the story?”

“Never give up.” She walked toward his car. “And if that’s not enough for my father, I have a very prosperous business as an attorney.”

He laughed. “I guess it’s how the day ends that matters.”

As she and Alex headed for her parents’ house, a smile curled the corners of her mouth. She imagined the whopper she could tell her family about her morning. But that wasn’t necessary. The truth was quite compelling.

Pulling to a stop in front of the big two-story Avery house in Colleyville, Laura put her hand on the door handle. “Come inside. I’m sure my father will want to thank you for saving my life.”

“No thanks, we’ll let it pass.”

She leaned over and touched his arm. “You have absolutely nothing to do right now, so come in and spend some time with my family, please.”

He gave her a crooked grin. “You sure you want me?”

She opened the door. “Don’t push your luck.”

Inside the house, the delicious smell of bacon frying and cinnamon rolls in the oven greeted them. She glanced at Alex and said, “We’re just in time for a second breakfast.”

“It’s our lucky day.”

Her father walked out of the living room, the newspaper folded under his arm, a scowl darkening his face. “Just where have you been, young lady?”

On her way to the breakfast room, she said over her shoulder, “I spent the night at Alex’s.”

By the time she entered the room, the girls were all cheering and clapping. Laura frowned and glared at them. “Stop that, now.” She pulled out a chair from the huge table that brought back a flood of happy memories. “You act like I don’t get any action at all.”

Her mother cleared her throat and picked up the coffeepot. “Ladies, we are at the table.”

“I know, but they’re acting like idiots.”

“Us? Who wanted to go hunting down criminals?” Cynthia, who still wore her bunny pajamas, asked. “You had us prowling all over the place.”

Alex stepped into the room, and Bea quickly ran to retrieve another chair.

“We caught the guys,” Laura said.

“No way,” Kandice said. “No way in hell.”

He sat and her mother immediately filled a cup for him then passed a plate of eggs and bacon. “One, unfortunately, is dead, but the other is in police custody.

“What?” her father said gruffly. “You killed someone?”

Jacklyn waved her hand. “You’re so full of it. Nobody here is going to believe crap like that.”

“Girls,” her mother warned.

“Mom, Laura is lying. She didn’t catch anyone. She’s just making it up so we’ll all feel guilty for not going with her,” Madelyn said.

Alex cleared his throat. “Laura is actually telling the truth. Those same men came into the coffee shop we were at this morning and tried to rob the place.”

“Honestly?” Cynthia said. “Oh, I wish I’d been there.”

Jacklyn huffed. “I wish we’d all been there. Then we could’ve seen what happened.”

“Well,” Laura said. “It should not surprise you that I didn’t singlehandedly bring them to justice, but Alex did.”

“With her help,” he added, pouring cream in his coffee. “She was quite brave.”

“Dear,” her mother said, rubbing Laura’s arm. “You could have been hurt.” She sent her father a scalding glare. “If that would’ve happened there would be trouble in paradise.”

Laura folded her arms on the table. “So what do you think, Father?”

“I think you’re a very foolish girl. You should’ve returned home the instant you realized I was playing a joke on you.”

Gritting her teeth, she glared at her father. “That’s all you have to say?”

Alex patted her on the hand.

“No, it isn’t,” he said, looking up from his plate. “Alex, I’m disappointed you put Laura in such a compromising position. She could’ve been hurt.”

She stared at her father. “So, you blame Alex now?”

“I’m not blaming anyone.”

“I am,” Laura said. “You put all of us in danger. You and crazy Hanna coming in here like an underpaid actress. You should be ashamed of yourself. If you ever pull anything like that again, I won’t come home for the holidays.”

She shoved back her chair and marched out of the room.

Somehow Alex figured it would come to this. Someone was bound to jump up from the table and dash off. One of them always did. Twisted Sisters. Shaking his head, he picked up the dainty cup and took a sip of his coffee. The food held no appeal for him and now he suddenly wanted to leave.

“I apologize, Alex,” Thomas said. “You are not to blame for this.” He gazed at his wife as if she had him by the balls and was squeezing. “I shouldn’t play games with the girls. It’s not my place to test their grit. They’re grown women and I’m leaving it up to them to decide if they want my business.”

“Apology accepted. And Thomas, I think that’s the best move.”

“Now, is everyone happy?” Thomas asked.

The four young women and their mother thought for several minutes, and Alex was sure it was just to watch Thomas squirm.

“I think we’re okay, father,” Madelyn said. “But don’t do it again. It’s not nice.”

Thomas didn’t seem to take that last piece of advice too well, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

Alex stood. “I really should be going.”

“No,” Kandice insisted. “You haven’t told us about last night.”

“Yes,” Jacklyn agreed. “We want all the juicy gossip.”

“Girls,” their mother warned.

Alex gave them a hard look and left the room. Amanda caught up with him in the formal dining room. “Please come and spend Christmas with us tomorrow.”

“I’ll be at my sister’s.”

“The whole day?”

“I’m not sure.”

“If you have a few minutes, we’d love to have you.”

He smiled and thanked her for the coffee. As his hand touched the doorknob, Laura walked down the staircase wearing a bright red sweater and tight jeans.

“Had all you can stand for a day?”

“No, I have a few things to do.”

“Alex Sanders, you’re a liar.”

“No, there are a few items I need to purchase.”

She crossed her arms and stood in front of him. “Are you going to take my mother up on the offer and come by tomorrow?”

“I don’t know.”

And he didn’t. Like so many times before, he wasn’t sure the offer was real. If Laura didn’t want him there, then Alex didn’t want to play the fool.

She rose on her tiptoes and gently kissed his lips. The instant they touched, his body reacted in a way he’d never imagined. He put his arms around her and pulled her tight against him.

He slanted his mouth, savoring the delicious taste of her. With her body against his, he wanted to melt into her and be one.

She broke the kiss, gasping for breath. Looking into his eyes, she smiled. “That’s your Christmas present.”

“Good,” he smiled. “I got the same thing for you.” He lowered his mouth to hers and realized that Christmas really was a magical time at the Twisted Sisters’ house.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

For as long as she can remember, Geri Foster has been a lover of reading and the written word. By the seventh grade she had worn out two library cards and had read every book in her age area of the library. After raising a family and saying good-bye to the corporate world, she tried her hand at writing.

To her surprise, she won a couple of contests, hooked up with a really great critique group and her writing career was well on its way. She spent several years studying her craft and developing her voice.

Action, intrigue, danger and sultry romance drew her like a magnet. That’s why she had no choice but to launch her published career with action-romance suspense. While she reads every genre under the sun, she’s always been drawn to guns, bombs and fighting men. Secrecy and suspense move her to write edgy stories about daring and honorable heroes who manage against all odds to end up with their one true love.

To keep the serious side of life at bay, Geri likes to write sexy short stories for her fans.  In the Women of Courage series, Geri explores the deeper, darker nuances of life and relationships in small-town mid-century America.

Books By Geri

Accidental Pleasures Series

Wrong Room

Wrong Guy

Wrong Plan

Wrong Bride

Wrong Holly

Falcon Series

Out Of The Dark

Out Of The Shadows

Out Of The Night

Out Of The Past

Out Of The Depths

Women of Courage Series

Love Released 1-5

www.gerifoster.com

YES, YOU

BY TAMMY FALKNER

Copyright © 2015 by Tammy Falkner

Yes, You

E-Edition

Night Shift Publishing

Cover design by Tammy Falkner

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Created with Vellum

For Sheri, since she asked me for this one.

CHAPTER 1

Madison

He leans against the side of the building with a cigarette dangling from his lips. His boots are crossed at the ankles as he leans against the brick wall. Scrunching up one eye to keep the smoke out, he looks almost unapproachable, and the thought of actually going up to talk to him scares me to death. Yet, I’m going to do it anyway.

He comes out here every day and sneaks a cigarette, glancing furtively left and right like he’s afraid someone will see him.

I see him.

I see him everywhere I go, it seems.

He doesn’t really fit in here, with his tattoos and his perpetual bad attitude. I know from class that he would rather grunt than speak in full sentences. And people let him, mostly because they’re afraid of him. But the only thing I’m afraid of…

Well. The only thing I’m afraid of is that I won’t get to meet him. That he’ll turn away and refuse to talk to me.

I take a deep breath and start in his direction, but just as I do, he drops his cigarette butt to the ground, grinds it under the heel of his boot, and then he throws his backpack over his shoulder and starts walking in the other direction.

He’s walking away. Seriously?

“Excuse me,” I call to his retreating back. I sound like I swallowed Kermit, so I clear my throat. “Excuse me,” I call again. I run to catch up with him and tug on his backpack. He looks back over his shoulder, but then he keeps right on walking. “Wait!” I say, trying to keep up. “Damn it, would you stop?”

He stops very quickly and I slam into his back. He rocks forward and I grab onto his pack to stay upright, feeling like I have two left feet. I am usually more graceful than this. My mother would kill me if she saw me right now, making a public spectacle of myself in the quad.

He turns, grabs me by the shoulders and steadies me, then he bends down to look into my eyes. His are bright blue and full of questions. “Are you all right?” he asks, his voice gruff. I’ve never heard him do more than grunt in class, so hearing him make a full sentence, albeit a short one, is startling.

“I’m fine,” I gasp, a little winded from chasing him. “You’re really fast.”

He grins. “Sweetheart, you haven’t seen fast.”

My heart skips a beat. I am in such big trouble. I don’t know why I thought I could approach a man like this, but I did, and now I don’t know how to ask for what I want.

“Cat got your tongue?” he asks. A grin tips one corner of his lips. He’s pretty enough to take my breath away. His blond hair flops across his forehead and he shakes his head to swing it back from his eyes.

I open my mouth to speak, but only a squeak comes out. He looks around the quad, looking behind me like he’s trying to figure out where the hell I came from.

When he sees that no one is chasing me, he takes my shoulders in his hands and gives me a gentle squeeze, bending so he can stare into my eyes. “Hey,” he says softly, like I’m a stray dog he’s trying to trap. “Are you okay?”

I thrust out my hand. “Madison Wentworth,” I say. “I just wanted to introduce myself.”

His eyes narrow and he stares at me, but he doesn’t stick his hand out to shake mine. I let mine hang there in the air between us until it becomes so heavy with disappointment that I have to tuck it into the pocket of my jeans.

“Guess not.” I sigh. “I’m very sorry for taking up your time.”

“Which one of those fuckers put you up to this?” he asks. He grinds his teeth as he waits for my response.

“What?”

“Those frat boys you hang out with, the ones with more money than sense. Which one put you up to this?” He glares at me.

“No one put me up to this,” I say.

“Listen, sweetheart,” he says, his face very close to mine. I can smell the cigarette he just smoked and the coffee he must have had before it. “You don’t want to mess with a man like me.”

“Okay,” I whisper. I clear my throat. “Fine. Have a nice day.”

I am one hundred percent ashamed of myself. I had imagined that going so differently. I had imagined him being devastated by my…well, by me. But he isn’t. He just looks at me like I’ve gone off my rocker. And maybe I have.

I turn to walk away, my feet heavy as leaden weights. Trudging across campus never took me this long before. I walk toward my car and pop the trunk, tossing my backpack inside. I stand there staring down.

All my life, I have gotten everything I ever wanted. I have a mother and father who are incredibly successful. We live in a big house in upstate New York where my parents own a horse farm. I’m attending this prestigious college and I don’t have to worry about anything. To everyone looking on, I have it all.

But no one knows how very lonely I am. No one knows that my parents work every minute of every day. No one knows that I’m having trouble fitting in at school. I work really hard to hide my need for more. More what? I have no idea. But I need more.

I don’t know why I thought I’d find it by befriending Bob Caster. Bob Caster, the bad boy. Bob Caster, the dreamy man who makes me want to ask him a thousand questions and just sit back and listen to the answers. Bob Caster, who, although he is incredibly poor—you can tell by the quality of his clothes and shoes—probably has more than I do. He probably even has friends. Real ones. Not just the ones who want to be around me because I can buy the shots.

The rev of a motorcycle behind me jars me out of my pity party. The pavement rumbles under my feet.

“Hey, you,” a voice calls out.

I turn to look, and find Bob Caster perched on a gleaming motorcycle with wide, shiny handlebars. I point to myself and ask, “Who? Me?”

“Yes, you,” he says. He squints at me like he’s trying to look inside me. I cross my arms under my breasts to block his piercing gaze, and his eyes drop down to my boobs. He licks his lips ever so slowly, and then his eyes travel back up. Heat creeps up my cheeks, but I refuse to fidget on my feet. I stare straight at him. “You want to take a ride with me?” he asks. He revs the bike.

I point a finger. “On that?”

He grins that sideways grin again. “Well, I wasn’t offering my personal services.” He glances down at his button fly, and then he laughs. He runs a hand lovingly down the shiny chrome handlebar, his touch reverent and respectful. “Of course on this.”

I point to the center of my chest and then at the bike. “You want to take me for a ride on that?”

He stares at me.

I finally let that feet fidget thing happen and want to kick myself. “Is it safe?”

He shakes a cigarette out of a pack and takes his time lighting it. He inhales deeply and holds it for a moment. Then he blows it out and says, “I won’t let you get hurt.”

I look at my car and then at him. He revs the engine again.

“Where are we going?”

“For a ride,” he says with a shrug.

“When will we be back?” I step closer to him and his eyes light up a little. And I like it.

“When we get done.”

Be still my heart.

He flicks his cigarette into the grass. “Are you coming or what?”

“Okay,” I say.

He looks surprised. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

He takes the helmet off his head and holds it out to me. I pull my ponytail free and tug the helmet on. He reaches out to buckle the strap for me, his fingers gentle. “How old are you?” he asks, his voice strong but quiet.

“Nineteen.”

“Good.” He grins.

He motions for me to climb on behind him and I do, my thighs spread around his hips. He lifts my feet and shows me where to put them.

“Why is that good?” I ask close to his ear.

He looks back over his shoulder. “Because I don’t want to go back to jail.”

He doesn’t wait. He hits the gas and I shriek as we take off through the parking lot and onto the open road. He reaches back with one hand and puts my hand on his waist, and I automatically follow with the other. I hold on tightly to the man who just told me he doesn’t want to go back to jail, and I wonder what the heck I just got myself into.

CHAPTER 2

Bob

I  have to be the dumbest son-of-a-bitch who ever walked the face of the earth. I have Madison Wentworth on the back of my bike. Her father will kill me if he catches us, and I can’t force myself to care.

Yes, I know exactly who Madison is. She’s the daughter of a local judge and his power-lawyer wife. I’ve met them both. In the courtroom. When they sent me to jail.

I’m in deep shit.

But I can’t say that I’m not enjoying it. She’s pretty much wrapped around me, her hands fisted in my shirt, her front pressed against my back. Every now and then, she adjusts her bottom and presses close to me.

I take a turn way too sharp and she squeals, wrapping her arms so tight around my middle that she grasps her hands together in front of my belly. I cover her hands with one of mine and she takes a breath behind me. It makes me feel like she trusts me…and I almost feel the need to warn her not to do that.

We have been riding for about an hour and we never really talked about how long I could keep her. Keep her? Oh, I am so fucked. I don’t keep women. I fuck them and then I put them back on the shelf so some other sad fuck can take them and fix their broken hearts. Relationships are messy and I’ve never wanted to spend time with anyone enough to even consider one.

Until today.

I pull over, because I should probably ask her what time she needs to get back to school. What if she has plans? What if she’s already ready to go back?

I kill the motor on my bike and it rumbles to a stop beneath us. I look back over my shoulder and find her smiling a big, goofy, breathtakingly beautiful smile at me. My heart stops as I look into her eyes.

“Why did we stop?” she asks, her breaths falling heavy and harsh, like she has been jogging. She bounces on the seat and a laugh bursts from my throat.

When was the last time I made a sound like that? I can’t remember, and I get a little dizzy at the peaceful, happy feeling that settles over me.

“Why did we stop?” she asks again, tapping my arm with the palm of her hand. It’s a happy, expectant move.

“I thought maybe we could talk,” I tell her.

She goes still behind me. “Oh.”

I look back at her. “You don’t want to talk?”

She smiles at me. “Talking is good.” Her voice is suddenly gruff and full. “Should we get off?”

I nod at her.

We’re parked beside a lake and it’s nearly dark out, so only a few people are here.

She points. “Want to go sit on the dock?” She climbs off the bike and the warmth of her body goes with her. I don’t like that. Not even a little. She starts toward the dock without even looking back in my direction.

I scramble to follow her. Her shoes squeak on the planks and I watch her ass sway. She’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt, typical college-wear. A purple Swatch watch is on her slim wrist. Her sandy-brown hair hangs in a heavy, tangled mess down her back, and she doesn’t seem to care.

“You’re really beautiful,” I blurt out. I cringe when she stops, turns to face me and smiles at me. My belly clenches and my dick notices how much I like her.

“Thank you,” she says as she sits down on the end of the dock. She tugs her shoes and socks from her feet and shoves her socks inside the shoes. Her bare toes peek up at me and she sighs as she dips them in the water. She leans back on her palms and tips her face up to the sky. “Thank you for bringing me here,” she says without even looking at me. She breathes in and out through her nose, slowly.

“Did you enjoy the ride?”

She smiles and nods. “I want to do it some more. Like, all the time. Every day. All day.” She giggles and I find myself grinning with her.

With me? Or does she just mean riding? I am afraid to ask.

“Why did you come with me?” I ask instead.

She tips her face toward me. “Because you asked me.” She snorts and then giggles. “Even though you only did it because I chased you down in the quad. I nearly tackled you.” She winces. “Sorry about that.”

“Best thing that’s happened to me all day,” I say. Shit. Did I say that out loud? I sit beside her on the dock.

“Me too,” she says quietly. She looks down at my boots. I’m holding them out over the water. “You should take your boots off. Stick your feet in the water.”

“Why?” I don’t understand why she’s so excited to get her feet wet.

She laughs. “Because it’s fun.” She taps my thigh. “Take them off.”

I shake my head.

She tilts her head at me like an inquisitive puppy. “Please,” she says. “Don’t make me sit here and feel funny being the only one with naked feet.”

I groan and pull my foot up, then tug my boot off. Then I repeat it with the other one and set the boots on the dock behind me with my socks stuffed inside.

“In the water,” she says with a fierce jab of her finger.

I hesitantly stick my feet in, and she laughs at the wounded look on my face when I realize how cold it is.

“Quit being such a baby,” she scolds with a laugh.

I gently palm the side of her head and give it a playful push. “Did you seriously just call me a baby?”

“That might have to be your nickname for the rest of our lives.”

My heart does that stutter thing again and I am speechless and breathless.

I had put her on the back of my bike because I wanted to fuck with her parents more than anything else. But now I feel a stirring of want for so much more.

She brushes a lock of hair back from her face and winces when she tugs through a snag. “Oh, my gosh. I must look like I’ve been tumbled in a dryer, right? Is it bad?” She starts to sweep through her hair and her hand sticks in another knot. “You wouldn’t happen to have a brush, would you? Crap,” she swears as she encounters a huge snarl.

“Wait,” I say. “I’ll get it.” I start to work through the tangle with my fingers and she sits still while I work out every last one. When I’m done, her hair is silky and smooth and I am not ready to stop running my fingers through it, but I probably should.

“Don’t stop,” she says quietly. “That feels really good.” She pulls her feet from the water. “Wait,” she says, and she adjusts so that she’s lying over my lap. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Hell, at this point, I’d be sad if she made me stop.

“It’s fine,” I tell her.

She relaxes against me and says, “Talk to me, will you?” Her eyes close and I’m pretty sure if she got any more relaxed, she’d fall asleep.

My insides settle in a way they never have before. Usually, I have a roiling, boiling sensation in my chest, like something is fighting to get out of me and I must work to contain it at all times. But now… Now I am at peace. My soul and my heart connect like tumblers lining up in a lock. Snap! It opens up.

And it scares the hell out of me.

I pull my hands from her hair, thinking that her proximity is the problem. But the tumblers don’t realign. They don’t lock her out. They let her in. They invite her in and offer her a fucking apple pie so she’ll sit and stay for a while.

“Are you all right?” she asks.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You stopped rubbing my hair.”

I lift her off my lap and set her beside me. “All the tangles are out.”

“Oh.” She sighs. “That’s good.”

She suddenly looks uncomfortable and it kills me that I caused it.

“Thank you for fixing my hair,” she says quietly.

I grunt.

She giggles. Then she snorts and covers her mouth. I think that snort is the sexiest thing I have ever heard.

She grabs my arm and lifts it toward her face, studying my tattoo, running her fingers over it.

“It’s not scratch and sniff, sweetheart.”

“What is it?”

I lean close to her and whisper, “It’s a tattoo.”

She scoffs. “I know that. But what does it mean?”

“I got that one when my grandmother died. I was sixteen.”

She points at another one. “And this one.”

“When I was emancipated by the state. It turned out no foster families wanted a sixteen-year-old with a bad attitude.”

“You didn’t have any other family?”

“No.”

“What’s this one?” She points to the side of my neck, and her finger tickles the sensitive skin. I suddenly wish she would press her lips there.

“When I got out of jail and got into college.” I rub my nose, suddenly feeling really uncomfortable.

“How did you turn it all around?”

A smile tugs at my lips. “I had this really great parole officer who took me under his wing. He made it all work out. I owe him a lot.” I’ll never pay him back everything I owe. “He’s the one who put me on the path I’m on.”

“What path is that?” She watches me closely and I have all of her attention. And I love that feeling. This girl is intoxicating in the best sort of way.

“Law. I want to help boys like me. I want to give boys who have nothing and no one on their sides a second chance. Or a third chance. Or any chance.”

I’m suddenly feeling really exposed so I lie back and look up at the sky.

She lies beside me, her shoulder touching mine. She doesn’t say anything for a while, but the silence isn’t oppressive or cloying. It’s comfortable.

Her voice is quiet when she says, “Thank you for bringing me out here. If I never see you again, I want to tell you that I had a really great time.”

The thought of never seeing her again kills me.

I take a deep breath.

“What if I told you I want to see you again?” I hold that breath.

She says nothing.

“Guess not,” I mutter.

She shoves my shoulder. “Shut up. I was thinking.”

“If it requires that much thought, you’d better say no.”

“No.”

My heart falls. I should have seen that one coming. Rich girls don’t fall for guys like me.

“I don’t want to say no,” she rushes on to say. She sits up and looks down at me. “Unless you want me to say no. Do you want me to say no?”

I take her hand in mine. “I want you to say yes.”

“What would we do?” she asks, her eyes narrowing.

“It would be a date. I have no idea.”

“Would…you…kiss me?”

I cough into my fist. “Well, I hope so,” I croak.

“What else would we do?”

“Umm…dinner?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Umm…maybe a movie.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Maybe we could take a walk.” Girls like that shit, right?

“Could we go on a picnic?”

“If you want to.”

“I want to. When?”

I scratch my head. “When is good for you?”

“I don’t have anything to do on Saturday night.”

“Seriously?”

She nods. Then she squints at me. “Are you just asking me to be nice?”

A laugh bursts from my throat. “Sweetheart, nice is not a word that has ever been used to describe me.”

“So, we’re going on a date on Saturday,” she sings out and claps her hands. “I’m so excited.”

Her happiness is catching.

Holy shit. I am in so much trouble.

“I had better get you back home.” I’ve enjoyed my time with her and I’m really not ready to give her up yet.

“Can we ride some more?” she asks, blinking those green eyes at me. I suddenly realize that I would give her just about anything she wanted.

She suddenly leans over and kisses my cheek really quickly. “Thank you,” she says. Her cheeks redden and my dick presses insistently behind my button fly. I get up quickly, hoping she won’t notice.

There’s one thing I do know. This is not a girl you fuck. This is a girl you take home to meet your mother.

I wish I had one.

CHAPTER 3

Madison

I  had assumed we were just going for a short ride, but it’s two hours later when he returns me to my car. He pulls to a stop and the rumble beneath my bottom ceases. I don’t get up just yet. For the past hour, I’ve been riding with my cheek pressed tightly against his back. It feels nice and safe and comfortable.

“I didn’t want to come back,” he says to me from over his shoulder. He doesn’t look at me. Something tells me he would look everywhere but at me even if we were facing one another.

“Then why did you?” I lean to the side so I can see his face. He has a fine dusting of hair on his jaw and I want to touch it to see if it’s bristly or soft. I force my hands into my lap.

“I figured you’d be ready to ditch me.” His eyes meet mine and hold them.

“I wasn’t,” I say softly.

A grin tips the corners of his lips. “Good.”

“I’m really excited about Saturday. How should I dress?”

“I was hoping you might wear nothing.”

I freeze. Mainly because I can’t take a deep breath. Air? What’s that?

“I’m just kidding!” he rushes to say, and he raises his hands to cup my face, forcing me to look into his eyes. “I was only joking. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. What you have on now will work. We’re not going anywhere fancy.”

“Okay.” I draw in a breath. “I’m in the A building in the complex. Room 23. Or should I just meet you somewhere?”

“I’ll pick you up.”

I can’t stop smiling. I probably look like the worst sort of ninny. “I’ll see you then.” He unstraps my helmet and I get off his bike. My legs are wobbly as I stand up, and he helps me straighten myself and get steady with a hand beneath my elbow. “I had a lot of fun today.”

“I did too.” He looks almost like it hurts him to admit that.

“I’ll see you Saturday,” I whisper to him.

He nods and I walk away. I pop my trunk so I can get my coat out. It’s getting cold outside. It takes me a minute to arrange my things, get my coat, shake it out, and put it on. I look over and find Bob standing by the fountain talking to some shady-looking men. I’m pretty sure they don’t go to school here.

I open my car door and start to slide in, but I start to think that Bob might want my phone number in case something changes before Saturday. I jot it down really quickly on the back of a receipt and go to give it to him.

I hear one of the men he’s with as I walk closer. “Who was that on your bike?”

He laughs sharply. It’s not like the laughter I heard from him today at all. “Just a girl.”

Just a girl? A girl I have a date with on Saturday, or my name would have been better. But apparently, I am just a girl.

“She got a name?” one of them asks.

“I never can remember their names,” he says. “Too many of them.” He laughs sharply again and lights a cigarette. “That one is no different from the rest. Just something to do.”

My heart sinks all the way down to my toes. I crumple my phone number up and drop it to the ground. At least I won’t have to get dressed up on Saturday.

Maybe I just dodged a bullet.

CHAPTER 4

Bob

I  run a comb through my hair again and adjust my shirt. I’d picked out a button-down shirt, which I tuck into my best pair of jeans.

I go into the living room and Phil turns to stare at me. Phil was once my parole officer. He’s the man who was willing to give me a shot. And now he’s letting me rent a room from him until I get in a position where I can move out on my own.

He stares a little harder and I start to squirm.

“What?” I ask.

He gets up and waves a hand in the air. “Follow me.”

I do, albeit reluctantly. “Where are we going?”

“You need a tie,” he says.

I turn back in the other direction. “I do not need a tie.”

“Get in here!” he yells from around the corner.

I think Phil was a drill sergeant in a former life. I know he was a cop, but good grief. “Yes, sir,” I mutter.

“I heard that.”

“I can tell,” I mutter still.

He goes to his closet and pulls out two ties, holding them up against my shirt, one by one. “This one,” he says.

I push his hand back. “I don’t want to wear a tie.”

“Nobody wants to wear a tie, dumbass,” he says. “We wear them because they show the other person we respect them and ourselves because we care what we look like.” He thrusts it into my hand.

“I don’t want it.” I push it back.

“Have you ever worn a tie?”

I didn’t exactly come from a tie-wearing family. “…No.”

“Not to church? Funerals?”

I scoff. “Church? You read my file.”

“So you don’t know how to tie a tie,” he says, his voice so soft and kind that it drags along my skin, chafing me from the inside out.

“No,” I admit.

“Come here.”

“Seriously?” I grumble.

He grins. “Don’t make me count to five.”

I shake my head and let him put the noose around my neck.

“This girl must be something special,” he says as he ties it and fixes my collar.

I nod.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you get dressed up for a girl before.”

He finishes the tying and I look in the mirror. I look like one of those monkeys that sits on someone’s shoulder. “I’ve never met one like this before,” I admit.

“How long have you known her?”

I shake my head. I feel like I’ve known her all my life, but I know I haven’t. “A few hours.”

“What’s she like?”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “She makes me feel happy inside.”

He punches my shoulder. “Good. Don’t do anything stupid tonight.”

“What would you classify as stupid?” Does that mean I shouldn’t be myself?

“Don’t try to sleep with her.”

I jerk my eyes to meet his. “Seriously?”

“If you want to fuck her, fuck her. If you want to make her fall in love with you, don’t fuck her. It’s that simple.”

“Can’t I do both?” I murmur.

“Not usually. Do you need any money?”

“No, I’m fine.

“You sure?”

He’s like the dad I never had.

“Positive. But thank you. And thanks for the tie.”

I walk toward the door. He calls out to me, “Hey, Bob!”

I open the door and turn back to face him, standing half in and half out.

“You’re valuable, kid,” he says. “Never forget that.”

“I know.” It took me a long time to realize that my thoughts and feelings had worth. But I know it now.

“I’ll see you in a few hours,” he reminds me. He arches a brow at me in question.

I nod. I won’t even try to stay over. Well, I might try. But I won’t do it. I like Madison. I really like her.

“You want to borrow my car?” he asks. “You don’t want to mess her hair up on your bike.”

My mouth falls open. Before I can say a word, he tosses his keys in my direction. I’ve never had anyone trust me the way that Phil does. I catch the keys and squeak out a heartfelt thank you, then close the door behind me.

Phil is a crazy asshole at times. When I first met him, when he was taking care of my probation paperwork, he was the biggest dickhead on the face of the planet. He wanted me to be perfect. Then I realized he just wanted me to succeed and things changed. I finally had someone on my team and I’d never had that before. It’s a good feeling to know that you’re cared about. Hell, just being wanted was different. When he asked me if I wanted a place to stay for a little while, I jumped at the chance and haven’t regretted it even once since then.

I get in the car and go to complex A, and look for room 23, and then I knock on the door. The door opens, but it’s not Madison. It’s someone else.

I hold the flowers I brought for her in my hand and fidget. “Hi, is Madison here?”

“Nope,” she says and she smacks her gum.

“Nope?” I repeat like a total dumbass.

“Nope.” She smacks her gum again.

“Do you know where she is?”

She shrugs. “She went dancing with one of the guys in her math class.”

“But…we had a date.”

She laughs. “Oh, you’re the one.”

“The one what?”

“The one she caught telling your friends she was just a girl and that her name didn’t matter because there were so damn many of them you couldn’t keep them all straight.”

What the hell is she talking about?

“She followed you after you dropped her off that day. She wanted to give you her phone number. But she heard you.”

“And now she’s out on a date? With somebody else?”

She nods and pops her gum again. “Yep.”

“Do you know where?”

“At the club on Main Street. I can’t remember the name of it.”

I turn on my heel and stalk in that direction. I don’t know what bothers me more—that she’s dancing with some random guy or that she stood me up. But I do know what bothers me most. It’s that she heard my stupid comment.

I have to explain it to her. And I have to be sure she’s not kissing some random guy. She’s supposed to be kissing me, damn it.

CHAPTER 5

Madison

Skip’s nice, but he’s not Bob. That much is for sure. He uses his fake ID to get us both a beer, and then we sit down at a table in the corner of the busy bar. Music thumps so loudly from the speakers that he can’t hear a thing I say to him, so I lean in to speak in his ear.

He puts his arm around me and leans toward me—way too close. I scoot back.

“You want to dance?” I yell, because he’s getting a little grabby.

He downs the last of his beer and I do the same with mine, and then he pulls me onto the dance floor.

There’s nothing I love more than dancing. Well, except maybe books, but that has nothing to do with this situation. I love to dance. The beat of the music moves up from the floor, into the toes of my Keds, and up my legs. Skip can’t keep up with me, so I spin and turn around him on the floor. He grabs my hips and tries to pull me close to him, but I came out here to dance, not to have someone grab me and grind against me. Been there. Done that. Don’t want to do it with Skip.

This night could have been so different. It could have been wonderful, if Bob had actually felt for me the same way I was beginning to feel for him. I loved holding on to him on the back of his bike, and he was the perfect mix of tender, sweet, and sexy.

Static zips along my skin all of a sudden, and I turn to search the crowd. I can’t even see him, but I know he’s there. Bob Caster has entered the building.

The song turns to a slow one, and Skip pulls me close to him. His hands encircle my waist and slip beneath my shirt to touch my naked skin. I pull his questing fingers out.

Suddenly, Skip is gone, and he’s lying on the floor. I look up to find Bob staring down at me, his chest heaving. “What the fuck are you doing, Madison?”

“Well, I was dancing.”

“It looked more like he was trying to fuck you on the dance floor.”

I snort. “I hate to be the one to tell you, Bob, but fucking is a bit different from that.” I tilt my head at him. “You want me to get you a book on the subject? Because it seems like you are woefully misguided.”

“I don’t need a book,” he mutters. “Why are you here with him?” He jerks a thumb toward Skip, who is being helped up off the floor.

Skip taps Bob on the shoulder, like he wants to repay the favor, and Bob turns his head just enough to growl at him through his clenched teeth. Skip’s face goes white and he backs up, holding up two hands.

“No problem, buddy. Didn’t know you called dibs.” Skip turns and walks off the dance floor.

“He didn’t call dibs!” I yell to Skip, but he doesn’t come back.

“I did call dibs. I do call dibs. I will call dibs.” He grabs my hand and pulls me toward the exit.

“I don’t accept your dibs!” I cry. I dig my heels in and he turns back to face me.

Suddenly, he upends me over his shoulder, his arm clamped across the backs of my thighs. I beat on his back, but he pays me no mind. I bend close to him and bite the only thing I can get my teeth into, which just happens to be the tender skin just over his left butt cheek.

“I like it rough, sweetheart,” he says.

This time, I put some heat behind my teeth and really nail him. His butt flinches.

“Rough enough for you, sweetheart?” I ask between bounces of my body.

And then we’re outside. He flips me over and sets me on the hood of a red Ford. He holds my face in his hands and stares into my eyes. “I’ll take whatever I can get from you,” he says.

My heart stutters. Th-thud. Th-thud. Th-thud.

“What do you want?”

He spreads my thighs so he can stand between them. “You.”

“Me?” I squeak.

He grabs my bottom and yanks me closer to him. “Yes. You.”

“But I’m just a girl. And there are so many of them crawling after you that you can’t keep all the names straight.” Tears sting my eyes and I blink them back.

He looks at me quizzically. “I hurt you,” he says softly.

My nose is starting to run, so I sniffle. “No, you didn’t.”

“I did. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean what I said.”

Sniffle. “Then why did you say it?”

“Because those assholes were asking questions about you and I didn’t want to tell them anything, so I downplayed it. I didn’t want them all sniffing around you. You’re too important.”

“You just met me yesterday,” I remind him.

“And you’re all I’ve thought about ever since.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he says. His lips hover over mine, so close that we’re sharing breaths, but he doesn’t kiss me. My blood thrums in my veins. “I can’t believe you stood me up. I showed up with flowers, wearing a tie, and driving a car I borrowed, just to impress you.”

“I don’t need all that stuff. I just need you.”

“Who am I?” he asks. His blue eyes look deeply into mine.

“You’re everything,” I breathe.

Then his lips touch mine. My belly drops and my breath stops as he licks across my lips, begging them silently to part. His tongue enters my mouth, licking into me, filling me up with him. He moans against me, and grabs my bottom, pulling me closer to him, his hardness pressing insistently against my softness. I hold onto his shirt the way I did when we were on his bike.

Suddenly, a cold voice slices through the air. “Madison!”

Bob’s head jerks up and he steps back three paces from me, and all the warmth that was him is suddenly gone.

“Dad!” I cry. My father steps between me and Bob. “What are you doing here?”

“Skip called me.”

Skip and I grew up together. The traitor.

“Skip said some ex-convict was carrying you out of the bar over his shoulder.” He looks from Bob to me and back again. “Is that true?”

“I can explain, sir,” Bob begins, but my dad shoots him a look.

“Why do you look so familiar to me?” Dad asks him.

“We met in the courtroom, sir.”

“What’s your name?”

“Bob Caster, sir.”

Dad’s eyes narrow. “One of Phil’s boys?”

“Yes, sir.” Bob scratches his nose like he’s suddenly uncomfortable.

“Why are you with my daughter?”

“We’re on a date, sir.”

“One that ends with you throwing her over you shoulder?”

“That’s actually how it starts, sir.”

A chuckle bursts from my lips and I cover my mouth to keep it in. “Sorry,” I mutter.

“Madison, get in the car.” Dad points to his fancy car, which is parked right behind the one I’m sitting on.

“With all due respect, sir, I’d like to take her home.”

“If you had any respect for my daughter, you wouldn’t have been all over her on the hood of a car in the middle of the street.”

“It was just a kiss, Dad—”

“It looked like more than that.”

“It was,” Bob interjects. His eyes meet mine. “It was more than that.”

“What was it?” I whisper, past the lump that’s suddenly clogging my throat.

“More,” Bob says. “I don’t know how to explain it. But it was more.”

“More than you deserve,” Dad snaps. “My daughter will not have a relationship with an ex-convict.”

Bob takes a step back and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I understand, sir,” he says. “Good night, Madison.”

“Don’t go!” I cry. He rounds the front of his car and gets inside. He cranks it and waits for me to get my butt off it.

“You deserve better than him, Madison,” Dad says.

I get off the hood of the car and glare at him. “Dad!”

“Get in the car, Madison!” he shouts. He points his finger in the direction he wants me to go.

I stomp over to the car and get in, and my heart breaks when I see that Bob is already driving away. His eyes meet mine briefly in his mirror and I see a world of hurt inside him.

“I’m not going to my apartment, Dad,” I tell him.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

Dad heaves a sigh. “What do you want, Madison?”

“I want to get to know him, Dad. That’s all. I like him a lot.”

“I could tell,” he grunts. “He’s not the one for you.”

How do I explain to my dad how lonely I have been since starting college? How do I explain to him how much time I spend in my apartment all by myself? How do I explain how good Bob makes me feel, even if I just met him? I owe it to myself to find out where it’s going, and I’m afraid that if I don’t declare my intentions now, I’ll never get a chance to.

“I want to talk to him,” I say.

Dad heaves a sigh. “I’m not going to be able to change your mind, am I?”

I shake my head. “No.”

He takes some twisty-turny streets and I realize that I have no idea where we are. “Where are we going?”

“His parole officer and I play golf.” He shrugs.

“And?” I glare at him.

“And he’s had a lot to say about that kid.”

“Like what?”

“Like how he’s turned his life around. He has a job, and he’s getting an education, and he plans to dedicate his life to helping kids who got a poor start, just like him.”

“What if it’s me who’s not worthy of him, Dad?” I whisper.

He stops in front of a small house on a cul-de-sac and I see the car Bob was driving in the driveway. He’s home.

“You’re worthy of everything, Madison.”

“Why did you bring me here, Dad?”

“Because of that look in your eyes, Madison… I haven’t seen it in a long time. And I screwed it up for you tonight by sticking my big nose in. If your mother were here, she’d string me up by my b–“ He stutters to a stop. “Man parts.”

I laugh. “You can say balls, Dad.”

He glares at me. “Don’t push me, Madison.” He heaves a sigh. “I’m going to stay right here until you don’t need me anymore.” He motions toward the house. “Go talk to him.”

“Really?”

He nods. “Really.” He clears his throat. “I don’t think that boy has ever had anyone fight for him, Madison. If he’s what you want, fight for him.”

I get out of the car with a giddy heart. “Thanks, Dad,” I lean back in to tell him.

“I’ll wait here. Go.”

I walk to the door on shaky feet. Just as I lift my hand to knock, the door flies open. A man looks at me, his eyes sweeping from the top of my head to the bottoms of my feet, but not in a creepy way. It’s an I’ll figure you out way.

“Hi, Madison,” he says, and he smiles at me. He sticks out his hand. “Nice to meet you. Phil,” he says by way of introduction.

“Nice to meet you too.” I look around his shoulder. “I’m sorry to bother you, but would it be possible to speak with Bob?”

He turns to face the living room and bellows at the top of his lungs. “Bob!”

Bob sticks his head out of his room and does a double take. “What are you doing here?”

I jerk my thumb toward the driveway. “My dad brought me.”

Phil looks around me and grins. “Your dad’s here?” He starts in that direction.

“Where are you going?” Bob calls to his retreating back.

“Going to take Madison’s dad for a beer!” he calls back. He gets in the car with Dad and they leave me standing in the doorway.

“Can I come in?” I ask.

“No.”

My belly drops. “No?”

He shakes his head. “No.”

“Please.”

He shakes his head again, but he’s looking a little chagrined. “You should go.”

“I’m not leaving.”

He shrugs. “Fine. Suit yourself.” He closes the door in my face.

I stand there on the stoop, not sure what to do with myself. Dad left with Phil, and I don’t have another ride. I sit down on the top step.

A gentle drizzle begins to fall. I pull my knees up to my chest and scoot back under the overhang, but it’s not enough. I’m getting soaked.

The door opens. “Jesus Christ, Madison. Are you seriously going to sit there in the rain?”

My teeth are starting to chatter. “Just until my dad gets back. Then I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Get in here,” he snarls.

“No, I’m fine right here.”

“Is this what life with you is going to be like? You declining every time I make a suggestion and me having to force you into it?” He hooks an arm beneath my knees and one behind my shoulders and scoops me up. “Jesus, you’re a lot of trouble,” he mutters to himself as he carries me to his room. “You’re soaked,” he says. He holds out a clean t-shirt and a soft pair of gym shorts. “Go put these on,” he demands. He points to the bathroom.

Instead, I turn my back and pull my shirt over my head. He hisses out a breath.

“Madison,” he growls. I pull the t-shirt down over my head and turn back to face him.

“What?” I ask.

He picks up a pillow, sits down in a chair, and shoves it into his lap. “That wasn’t very nice.”

I unbutton my pants and push them down over my hips. He sucks in a breath and looks the other way. “I’m really sorry about what my dad said.”

“It was all true. I’m not worthy. Not of someone like you.” He shrugs. “If I had a daughter, I would feel the same way.”

“He knows you’re better than your past,” I tell him. I sit down on the edge of the bed. I don’t even bother putting on the shorts because his shirt falls almost to my knees.

“I’m not.”

“You’re not what?”

“Better than my past. My past will always be with me.”

“Why did you go to jail?” I scoot backwards so that my back is against his headboard.

He groans and shoves a hand through his hair. Then he starts to talk.

“I had a friend who was mentally challenged. And I walked up on a group of guys harassing him one day. They didn’t stop, even after I warned them, and I couldn’t let them think it was all right. So I sucker-punched the biggest one in the group.” He flexes his fingers. “Broke my hand, but it was worth it.” He heaves a sigh. “Anyway, I broke his nose and his parents filed charges. I did it.” He shrugs. “I did my time. Thirty days.”

“Would you do it again?”

He nods. “Probably.”

“Good. I would too.”

He chuckles. “You probably would.” He narrows his eyes at me. “Why did you stand me up?”

I shrug. “My feelings were really hurt.” I look at what he’s wearing. “Why did you take off your tie?”

His cheeks flush. “I only wore it because Phil said it would impress you.”

“It did.”

His face grows even redder. I lean toward him. “Are you blushing?”

“Everything about you makes me blush, Madison,” he tells me softly.

“We just met yesterday,” I whisper playfully.

“And yet I already know I’m going to marry you,” he whispers back.

“I know you will. You won’t be able to resist me.” I laugh and the corners of his lips tip up in a grin.

“What do you want?” he asks.

“You.” I stare hard at him, because I want him to know I’m serious. I know this is fresh and new, but it’s also special and I want to pursue it.

He points to his chest. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” I crook my finger at him and he tosses his pillow to the side and stands up.

I look down at the significant bulge behind his fly.

“You really like me, don’t you?” I ask.

“My heart likes you. My dick just wants you.”

I reach out and touch him, outlining the ridge of him with my fingertips. He flinches and draws his hips back. “Don’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want to learn what’s in here—” He taps my temple with his finger. “—before I learn what’s in here.” He cups my center, holding tightly to my heat for a moment before he withdraws. My heart skips a beat and my belly clenches.

“You want to go watch a movie?” he asks. “I think Phil got Lethal Weapon III at Blockbuster.”

“Are you serious? I’ve been dying to see that.” I get to my feet.

He holds out the shorts I didn’t put on earlier. “Put some clothes on. Please.” He holds his hands together like he’s praying. “My dick won’t be able to stand it if he finds out there’s nothing but a pair of panties between him and where he wants to go.”

My belly flips like there are a thousand butterflies trying to get free. “Okay.” I take them from him.

He clutches a hand to his heart. “Oh my God. She actually did something I asked her to do!”

Then he runs out of the room and to the living room, and starts messing with the VCR. The movie starts and he motions for me to sit down next to him. I don’t, though. I pat my lap so he’ll lay his head down, and then I thread my fingers into his hair. He tenses immediately.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“No one has ever done that before,” he says quietly. He rolls to face the TV so I can’t see his face.

“I’m going to do it all the time,” I promise. And I mean it. I’m going to do it every time I’m with him. He deserves to have someone show him how wonderful he is.

I can tell when he goes to sleep. He gets soft in my lap and his face gets heavy against my thigh. But I don’t stop rubbing. I keep touching him, because giving him comfort feels better than any kiss I have ever had.

I see headlights in the drive, and I slide out from under his sleeping head without waking him. He snuggles deeper into the pillow I slip under him and murmurs my name.

I pass Phil in the doorway and he looks at my clothes. “Your dad is going to kill him,” he mutters.

“I’m going to marry that man, Phil,” I tell him as I sweep past him.

“You’d better. Particularly now that you’ve defiled him,” he calls playfully at me.

I grin and get in the car with Dad. “Why do you have on different clothes?” Dad asks.

“Mine got wet. It was raining.” I shrug and smile at him.

“What did you guys do?” he asks, his voice uncertain.

“We watched a movie,” I tell him. “That’s all.”

“Did you have a good time?”

I let out a deep breath and stare out the window. “The best.”

“Bring him by the house this weekend so your mother can meet him.”

I grin. “Okay. I’ll ask him.”

“He’ll show up. That boy has balls.”

“I know.”

CHAPTER 6

Madison

Three Months Later

I t’s Christmas Eve, and a deep snowfall has blanketed the city. Bob and I couldn’t get out if we tried, so we made plans for tomorrow with my parents, once the roads have been cleared. I’m kind of glad the roads are so crappy, because I have some things I need to say to Bob. I need to find out what his intentions are. I need to find out where this relationship is going.

We have pretty much lived together for the past few months. He started staying over more than he was staying at Phil’s, and my roommate moved out, so he brought all his stuff over. We still haven’t officially told my parents, but I’m pretty sure he calls my apartment home for now and always.

But what I need to tell him might change all this. It might wreck the perfect tranquility we have found together.

The door opens and Bob walks in. He’d volunteered at the homeless shelter, setting up extra cots so some of the homeless could come in out of the weather. He wipes a dusting of snow from his hair and hangs his coat on the hook by the door. He comes over and kisses me.

“How was your day?” he asks between kisses. His cold hands slip beneath my shirt and I hiss and draw back, but he just laughs and presses harder against my skin. “Just wait a minute. You’re so warm and I’m so cold. Warm me up.”

His hand rises to cup my breast, and I’m not wearing a bra since I’m already in my pajamas.

“Mmm,” he hums. “That feels nice and soft.” He sweeps a thumb across my nipple. “Except right there. That feels kind of hard.” He flings my pajama top up and takes my nipple into his mouth.

“Easy,” I say. “They’re a little tender.”

He hums around my nipple, tugging it gently now. “It’s not that time of the month.”

“No…” I wince. “I haven’t had one of those in a couple of months.”

His head jerks up. “What?”

“Umm…”

“Oh, God, Madison,” he rushes to say. He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “A couple of months?”

“You’ve pretty much been inside me at least once a day for the past few months, you idiot.” I push back from him. “You should know this as well as I do!”

“Hell, I just thought I was lucky!” he yells.

“Well, you can forget about getting lucky ever again!” I yell back. Tears sting my eyes but I refuse to cry in front of him. I go to the bedroom and slam and lock the door.

He pounds on the door. “Madison? I’m sorry. Can you let me in?”

“Go away!”

“I’m not going away! Let me in!”

“What are you going to do? Huff and puff and blow the door down? I’d like to see you try!”

“Madison, open the damn door.”

“This isn’t my fault!” I cry. “It’s all because of that overactive penis of yours!”

“My penis is not overactive,” he grumbles at me through the crack in the door. “And if my penis is overactive, then so is your vagina.”

I fling the door open. “Don’t you dare refer to my vagina like that! The only time it’s active is when you’re in it, you asshole!” I slam the door shut again.

I sniffle and I guess he hears me because his voice gets soft. “Sweetheart, are you crying?”

“You’re talking shit about my vagina!” I yell back.

He talks through the crack in the door. “Will you let me in if I promise not to talk about your vagina anymore?”

I sink down with my back to the door and I catch a tear as it rolls down my cheek, swiping it away.

“Madison?” he says, and I can tell he’s down on my level. “Please let me in.”

“I was really happy,” I say quietly.

“I can’t hear you.”

“I was really happy!” I shout.

“I heard you that time,” he calls out. “Why were you happy?”

“Because all I could think was that we had made something special together. And I was so excited to tell you. But then you had to go and warm your fucking hands on my boobs. And they’re sore all the time, and you didn’t even know it.”

The door cracks open and he sticks his hand in, then shoves it a little harder, his movements soft and slow but powerful. Finally he sits in front of me so that we’re knee to knee. “Madison…”

“Don’t talk about my vagina,” I say over a sniffle.

“I love your vagina, sweetheart. In fact, I’d like to say hello to it right now, but I doubt that’s on the table.” He brushes my hair back from my face. “You surprised me, that’s all.” His voice is soft and low, like he’s trying to soothe a wild beast.

“How did you want me to tell you?” I modulate my voice so every syllable comes out distinctly. “I’m preg-nant, you ass-hole.”

He gathers me up and pulls me into his lap. I curl into him, because there’s nowhere else I want to be.

“Are you angry at me?” I whisper.

He sets me back so he can look into my face for a second. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m not angry at you. It’s not like you got pregnant all by yourself.” He chuckles.

“I’m pretty sure you were in the room,” I mutter against his chest. I wait a beat. “You sure you’re not angry?”

“I’m not angry.” He cuddles me tighter. He goes still. “Are you angry? Angry that I didn’t take better care of you, preventing all this?”

“I was happy,” I whisper. “Until you came home and you weren’t.”

“I wasn’t unhappy. I was just stunned. And in my head, I was planning all the ways we can both stay in school, and when we can get married, and—”

I sit back. “Married?”

“Yes. Married.” Each word is its own punctuation. “You will marry me. My kid will have a mother and a father. And my name. And all my love. Well, all my kid-love. You have all the rest of it.”

Tears roll down my cheeks and I clench my fists in his shirt to wipe my face on it. “You want to marry me?”

He reaches into his pocket. “I wish I’d been able to ask you before all this.” He holds out a small wrapped package.

“What’s this?” I take it and heft it in my hand.

“It’s your Christmas present.” He nudges me. “Open it.”

“It’s not Christmas yet.”

“Open it!” he mock-yells.

“Okay, okay!” I cry. “If you’re going to nag me, I’m going to open it!”

I tear off the paper and flip open the lid. Inside, there’s a tiny diamond, set in an engagement ring. “I didn’t have a lot of money,” he says. “Later on, we can get a bigger one.” His brow furrows. “Do you hate it?”

I shake my head, so overcome with emotion that I can barely speak. “I love it.” I shove it back at him. “But I can’t accept it.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because I will forever be the girl who got married because she got knocked up if I take that.” I shake my head. “Nope. I can’t do it.”

He sighs. “I should have seen it. All the signs were there.” He flips me onto my back, yanking my pajama top over my head during my fall. I cross my arms over my naked breasts. He pulls them back, looking down at me. “Your body has been changing. I noticed. Your boobs are bigger. And your nipples are harder and more sensitive.” He blows across my nipple, and then takes it gently into his mouth. He talks in my ear. “And the other day, when I was taking you from behind, you complained about your boobs hurting, and I had to let you get on top. Do you remember?”

His words are soft, and he keeps talking as he hooks his fingers in the hips of my pajama bottoms, pulling them down along with my panties.

His hand covers my belly. “Our kid is in there,” he says.

I look at his face, and I see that he’s blinking back emotion. “Are you scared?”

“Scared I can’t take care of you both? Yes. Scared of you and me and our baby together? No. Never. I want a family with you. I always have. I just wasn’t planning on it happening so soon.”

“It’s all my vagina’s fault.” I chuckle over the emotion that wants to slip from my body.

“And my penis had something to do with it.”

“Sneaky bastard,” I whisper.

He grins. “My penis wants to celebrate with your vagina.”

“Can we celebrate right now?”

He laughs and carries me to the bed.

When we’re both sated, he covers my belly with the flat of his hand. “I thought I was happy, with there being just the two of us,” he says. “But three is even better.” He looks into my eyes. “What do you think? Boy or girl?”

“I have names already picked out for both,” I tell him.

He laughs. “So I don’t get a say in any of it?”

“Nope.”

“So, what will the names be?” His fingers tickle across the baby bump that’s not even evident yet.

“Reagan if it’s a girl. Lincoln if it’s a boy.” I stare at him and wait for his response.

“Presidents?”

“Give them something they have to live up to.” I say with a chuckle. “I’m named after Madison. My grandfather is Grant.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Did he seriously just agree with me about something?

“Okay,” he says again. He whispers at me. “Hey.”

“What?” I whisper back.

“Do you think your vagina would consider my penis overactive if he was ready to go again?”

“I think my vagina would be delighted.” I laugh as he pulls me on top of him and lowers me to take him inside. I hiss out a breath.

“You’re going to marry me,” he warns as he raises his hips, hitting the perfect spot inside me.

“Okay. Just be still and let me come first.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

After a few minutes, I fall onto his chest, completely satisfied and ready for a nap. But I feel him sliding the ring he gave me onto my ring finger. I close my fingers once he has slid it on. “Yes,” I say, and I yawn.

“Best Christmas ever,” Bob says as he pulls the covers over us both.

He wraps around me, one hand cupping my sore boob and the other covering the baby we made, the new life we created, the promise that we are and will be more than we had ever hoped to become.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

More from Tammy Falkner in the Reed Brothers Series

Tall, Tatted, and Tempting (FREE!)

Smart, Sexy, and Secretive

Calmly, Carefully, Completely

Just Jelly Beans and Jealousy (FREE!)

Finally Finding Faith

Reagan’s Revenge and Ending Emily’s Engagement

Maybe Matt’s Miracle

Proving Paul’s Promise

Only One

Beautiful Bride

Zip, Zero, Zilch

Christmas with the Reeds

Good Girl Gone

While We Waited

Holding Her Hand (October 28, 2015)

UNDERNEATH MY CHRISTMAS TREE

BY TAWDRA KANDLE

Copyright © 2015 by Tawdra Kandle

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Created with Vellum

CHAPTER 1

Friday before Thanksgiving

Elizabeth

“Hey! Lady, didn’t you hear me knocking?”

With no little effort, I pulled my eyes from the computer screen and looked toward my office door, frowning. “What? No. I’m sorry, what do you want?”

For the millionth time, I kicked myself for not hiring a secretary, let alone a receptionist. When Darcy had talked me into moving to Florida to be her law partner, she’d also convinced me that with our computer skills, we didn’t need to hire an office staff yet. Pretty sure she was wrong.

The man standing in the doorway was staring at me as though I’d lost my mind. He was in jeans so faded they were barely blue and so tight they didn’t leave much to my imagination. His gray T-shirt fit pretty damn well, too. But it was the scowl on his face that grabbed my attention.

“Is that your Beamer out there in the parking lot?” He hooked a thumb in the direction of building’s front door.

“Uh, well, yes, if you mean the dark blue one. Oh, God, did you hit it?” Dismay filled me; I didn’t have time to deal with a wrecked car today.

“No, I didn’t hit it.” If it were possible, the guy looked even less friendly. More annoyed. “It’s in the way.”

“I’m sorry, in the way of what now?” My finger twitched over the keyboard. I really needed to get this motion finished.

He stuck his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and leaned against the door jam. “We’re trying to set up the tent for the trees, and your car is the only one that wasn’t moved.”

A vague memory sparked in my mind of an email from Logan Holt, reminding all of his building’s tenants to park on the side instead of out front. Was that today?

“Trees?” I blinked at the man in my doorway.

“Christmas trees.” He spoke slowly, as though to help me understand. “We’re selling Christmas trees. We drove all the way down from Michigan, we got a tent to put up and a tractor-trailer full of trees, and your car is the only one in our way. Can you move it?”

I looked down at the computer screen. “Damn, it’s almost four.” Adrenaline surged through my veins, and I fought to keep my hands from shaking with it. “Listen, I’m sorry about that. About the car. But I’m under a time crunch here. I have to have this motion finished and delivered to the judge’s office in forty-five minutes, or I’m screwed. The keys are in my purse, hanging on the hook behind that door. Can you possibly move it for me?”

The man squinted at me. “You want me to go through your handbag and drive your car?”

I tossed up my hands. “Listen, buddy, right now, this motion is all I can think about. Go through my purse. Help yourself to any cash. Check out all my personal stuff. Tampons are in the zippered pocket. Do whatever you need to do, but just let me finish this.”

He stared at me a minute more, and I made a noise in the back of my throat meant to convey exasperation before I turned my attention back to the computer screen. In one part of my distracted consciousness, I heard him muttering to himself as he dug through my purse, but I tuned out all other noise and focused.

Thirty minutes later, I leaned over and tugged the final page from the printer tray. Shrugging into my suit jacket—Judge Gardiner was a stickler for propriety in all things—I grabbed my handbag from the hook behind the door and spent the next two minutes digging through it, looking for my car keys before I remembered.

Damn.

I slammed my office door behind me, not bothering to lock it. I wasn’t going to be gone long, and Crystal Cove wasn’t exactly the crime capital of Florida. Plus Logan and his admin were still upstairs, and the people who worked in the title company office here on the first floor would be around for a while longer.

Sliding sunglasses over my eyes, I stepped outside, and for a moment, I was disoriented: the warmth of late afternoon confirmed that I was still in Florida, but the almost overwhelming scent of pine made me feel like Vermont might’ve moved in next door. Christmas trees were everywhere: under the huge tent that took up most of our parking lot, leaning against the front of our building and some still in the truck. Two men were hefting the trees onto their shoulders and moving them into the tent.

I glanced around, looking for the guy who’d taken my keys. When I finally spotted him in the far corner of the tent, working the stump of a six-footer into the square of a makeshift stand, I practically sprinted over to him.

“Hey. I need my keys.” I thrust out of my hand, as though he might simply deposit them there.

He grunted and looked at me over his shoulder, that same frown from earlier still wrinkling his forehead. “Huh? What’re you talking about? Joe brought you back your keys.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know who Joe is, but no one returned them. And I’m in a hurry. I need to get—”

“Yeah, yeah, to the courthouse.” He gave the tree a small shake, testing its stability, I guessed, and then pushed himself to stand. I realized he was a good head taller than me. “I remember. I moved your car, and then I gave Joe the keys and told him to run them back inside to you.”

“He didn’t.” Nervous tension made me feel like I was about to jump out of my skin, and I shifted my weight from foot to foot.

“Are you sure? I mean, you were pretty much zoned out when I came in, so maybe he dropped them on your desk and you didn’t even notice.”

A moment of doubt flittered over me, but I shook my head. “No, I would’ve seen him. And the keys weren’t there.” I didn’t think they were, anyway.

“Well, hell.” He scowled even more, which I hadn’t thought was possible. “He must’ve gotten sidetracked and forgot.”

“Okay, fine. It happens. I get it. Where’s Joe now? I’ll just find him, get the keys and be out of your way.” I took a step backwards, ready to dart away.

“Shit.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Joe just ran over to check us all in at the motel. He won’t be back for at least twenty minutes. Maybe half an hour.”

I felt the familiar and maddening prickle of tears at the back of my eyes. Crying when I was angry or frustrated wasn’t anything I could control, and it pissed the hell out of me when it happened.

I turned my head, but not fast enough that he didn’t see my face. “Hey, hey. Don’t start that. It’s okay. I’ll, ah . . .” He shoved one hand into the pocket of his jeans. “Here. Take my truck. It’s parked right over there.” Pointing to the far edge of the parking lot, he picked up my hand and closed my fingers around a small set of keys.

“Are you sure?” I wanted to be polite, to do the typical oh-no-I-couldn’t-possibly-impose deal, but in the back of my head, all I could hear was a loudly ticking clock.

“Yeah. Just don’t lock the driver’s side door, because it doesn’t work. Oh, and you drive stick, right?”

My heart sank. “No. I mean, in theory I know how—I had a boyfriend once who—but no. I don’t think I can.”

The guy muttered something dark under his breath. “Fine. Come on.” He snatched the keys out of my hand and strode away, leaving me to scurry after him.

“Hey, hold up!” I paused just long enough to kick off my heels, scoop them up and run over the asphalt, hissing as the small pebbles bit into my tender feet. “Are you sure you don’t mind—”

“Do you have another solution? I don’t know where your courthouse is, but unless you can run there, I’d say you need me.” He stopped at the passenger side of the old blue truck and wrenched open the door. When he caught sight of me wincing my way toward him, his eyebrows shot up, and he shook his head. “Yeah, looks like the running idea isn’t going to work. Get in.”

I climbed into the cab as my driver—whose name I still didn’t know, I realized—jogged to the other side, got in and slammed the door. I barely had my seat belt buckled when he threw the truck into reverse and then gunned it toward the exit.

“Which way?” He slid his gaze toward me, tapping two fingers on the steering wheel.

“Uh, left, please, and then right at the light.” My skirt was twisted under one leg, and I gave it a tug. “By the way, I’m Elizabeth. Elizabeth Hudson. You know, like the river.” It was my old stand-by when introducing myself, and usually the line at least got me a weak smile. But not from this guy.

“Yeah.” He glanced at me sideways. “I saw your name on the door. Since there was only one of you in the office, I figured that had to be you.” He stopped at the red light, looked in both directions, and then took the right turn. Just when I thought he was going to ignore my introduction, he added, “I’m Trent Wagoner.”

Trent. I tested it silently. He didn’t really look like a Trent. I gave myself a moment to assess him. Maybe he was more like a . . . Jim. Or a Pete.

“You’re from Michigan?” I shifted so that I faced him a little more fully. “Oh, we need to turn left at the end of the bridge.”

“Uh, yeah.” His jaw tightened.

“I bet it’s strange, being down here in the heat. Is it really cold up there yet? Do you have snow?”

“Nope.” He took the corner fast and I grabbed for the non-existent oh-shit-bar. He spared me a glance. “Don’t lean on that door. Not sure it’ll hold.”

With a vision of my body flying out of the truck and hitting the curb, I moved away from the door and gripped my seat belt. “At the next stop sign coming up, veer just a little to the left. The courthouse’ll be on the right, and you can just pull up in front. I’m going to have to run for it.”

Trent braked to a sliding stop at the curb, and I unbuckled my belt, gave the door a push and jumped down to the sidewalk. I hesitated, looking back over my shoulder as I struggled into my heels, balancing on one foot. “You’ll wait for me?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, I’m going to drive away and leave you to walk back in those crazy shoes. Of course I’ll wait.”

“Thanks.” I hugged the manila folder to my chest and sped up the cement steps to the heavy wooden doors. I managed to get them open and double-timed it across the tiled foyer, my heels clicking furiously.

I swung open an oak door with a frosted window and stepped over the threshold, exhaling loudly. The large pendulum clock that hung on the wall behind Judge Gardiner’s dragon lady assistant said I’d made it with two minutes to spare.

“Miss Hudson.” Mrs. Alvarez regarded me over the top of her glasses. “I was beginning to despair of you.”

“But here I am.” I slapped the folder onto her desk. “Stamp that, please, that it was filed today.”

With a sigh that indicated a portion of her long-suffering, Mrs. Alvarez opened the folder, taking her time with inking the stamp and pressing it carefully to the cover. “Have you considered, Miss Hudson, that your insistence on self-reliance might be hurting your clients?”

I gritted my teeth. “Mrs. Alvarez, none of my clients have complained. In fact, I think they like the fact that my hourly fee is lower thanks to my, uh, insistence on self-reliance. And to be honest, it’s not so much that as it is a matter of economics.” I curled my lips into a sweet smile. “But you know, Mrs. Alvarez, when I can afford an administrative assistant, I hope I can find one just like you.”

She shook her head, her lips pursing. “Is there anything else you need today, Miss Hudson?”

“No, thank you.” I hitched the strap of my handbag a little higher on my shoulder. “You have a good Thanksgiving, Mrs. Alvarez.”

Her face relaxed a little. “You, too. Are you traveling to be with family?”

I took a step back, toward the door, thinking of Trent outside waiting for me. “No, I’m staying in town.”

The older woman’s brow knit. “You won’t be by yourself, will you?”

For a second, I was afraid she was going to invite me to dinner at her house. “I’m eating with friends.” I waved to her and put my hand on the doorknob. “Thank you, Mrs. Alvarez!”

Before she could say anything else, I escaped, closing the door carefully behind me. The last thing I needed was a pity offer for Thanksgiving dinner from the dragon lady. I hadn’t lied; Logan and Jude Holt had invited me to the huge holiday extravaganza they’d planned. What I’d hedged about was whether or not I actually intended to go. Holidays and me . . . we just didn’t get along. The less I had to think about what the next month would bring—endless Christmas commercials, annoying songs played over and over, gaudy decorations everywhere—the better. Thanksgiving was the entry way to holiday hell.

Back outside, I heaved a sigh of relief as I blinked in the sunlight. At the bottom of the stone steps, the ancient blue truck still idled, and I could see Trent sprawled on the driver’s side of the bench seat. He had one elbow crooked over the open window, his head leaning against his hand. Now that the pressure was off me, I had a minute to look at him a little more closely. His light brown hair was a little longer on the top than on the sides, and he had a thin layer of matching scruff on his jaw and cheeks. I wondered if it was as soft as it looked.

I made my way down to the sidewalk, smoothing my hair back away from my face. For the first time this afternoon, I wondered how I looked. I’d pulled my hair back into a low ponytail before work, hoping it would stay put, but between the humidity and the way I’d been rushing hither and yon, I was willing to bet it had frizzed out. Nothing I could do about it now.

Trent turned with a jerk when I pulled the passenger door open. I bit back a giggle. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Were you napping?”

He pushed himself to sit up straighter. “No.” His voice was rough, and I had a hunch I’d been right, judging by that and the way he was blinking. He jostled the stick shift as I settled in the seat and reached for the seat belt. “And you didn’t scare me. I was just . . . thinking about something else.”

“Ah.” I nodded.

“Did you make it? To the court in time, I mean?”

“I did. I actually had to go to the judge’s chambers to drop off a motion for one of my clients. If it wasn’t stamped as being filed before five, the judge wouldn’t consider it.”

“Okay.”

I kicked off my shoes and bent one knee, tucking a foot under me. “I represent an architect who was named as a defendant in a case involving faulty wiring at a hotel in Daytona. Sometimes in these cases, the plaintiffs’ attorneys have a habit of including everyone under the sun in the case. I had until today to file a motion explaining why the complaint against my client should be dismissed.” I turned what I hoped was a blinding smile at Trent. “And thanks to you, I made it.”

He shrugged. “Wasn’t a big deal.”

“No, it really was. I’d have been up shit creek if not for you.”

“If I’d made sure you’d gotten your keys back, you wouldn’t have needed a ride.”

I laughed. “And if I paid better attention to the email updates from my building management, I wouldn’t have parked in the wrong place to begin with. So like it or not, you saved my ass.”

As if mentioning it reminded Trent of its existence, he glanced down at that part of my body, his eyes raking over the bare skin of my thigh where my skirt had ridden up. I waited for the smolder, for his gaze to heat up.

But he only looked away, staring out the windshield as he pulled away from the curb. “It wasn’t a problem.”

Hmmm. I frowned. No reaction at all. Not what I’d expected. Was he gay? I didn’t get that vibe. It was possible he just wasn’t interested in me. I didn’t have any delusions about my own irresistibility; I was reasonably attractive, and when I was in the right frame of mind and got dressed up, I usually managed to capture some attention. And maybe today, what with the key mix-ups and me running around like a crazy woman, I’d managed to repel Trent more than anything else.

Still . . . even a guy who wasn’t necessarily interested should give my leg, namely my naked inner thigh, a little more attention. And now maybe my pride was wounded, or maybe my curiosity was piqued, but I wanted him to notice me. If I were really being honest, it was possible that I wanted him to notice me—and more specifically my naked inner thigh—because that thigh, and the rest of me, had gotten precious little action of late.

Yes, it was sad but true. I’d been in the middle of a dry spell for nearly a year now. This was the longest I’d gone without sex since I’d tossed in my V-card during my junior year of college. I’d been a late-bloomer, mostly because I didn’t party and I was extremely picky. But once I’d uh, bloomed, there’d been no stopping me, because, as it turned out, I loved sex.

I loved everything about sex. I liked the brand-new, awkward sex, the comfortable-with-a-long-term-partner sex, the mad sex, the break-up sex . . . you name it, I was passionate about it. And because I enjoyed it so much, I had a lot of it, at least up until the time I’d stupidly listened to my best friend Darcy and moved down here to Florida after we graduated from law school.

So it was with that thought in the back of my mind—okay, it might’ve been closer to the front—that I bunched my upper arms close to my chest, squeezing my boobs into prominence as I leaned forward toward Trent.

“Is this your first time in Florida, or do you come down to sell trees every year?” I let a little of the breathy flirt into my voice and fastened him with my best hi-there-big-fella look.

Trent side-eyed me, but if he noticed my cleavage, he didn’t give any indication. “No and no. I’ve been to Florida. But this is my first year selling trees.”

“Oh, really? Were you down here before for business or on vacation?” I tilted my head.

“I used to live in Georgia. I came down here once or twice with buddies. I wouldn’t call it vacation, but it wasn’t business either.”

“You lived in Georgia? Whereabouts? My friend’s daughter lives there. She just got married last spring.”

This time, he did give me more than a passing glance and sighed, rubbing his jaw. “Yeah, you mean Meghan, right? I know her. She lives in my town—well, the town I used to live in.”

I straightened up a little. “That’s quite a coincidence.”

He shook his head. “Not really. We’re using the lot at your building because I know Meghan, and she asked her step-father if we could put the tent up there. So . . . not such a small world.”

“Oh.” That was a conversation stopper, though it was more Trent’s tone than his words that said he didn’t want to talk about it. “Well . . . it must be pretty cool to sell Christmas trees, though.”

“I guess. Doesn’t much matter to me. It’s work, and it’s what I do twelve hours a day. I’m getting through this stretch because it’s what I need to do.”

“What did you do before this? Oh, and take the right onto the bridge. That’ll bring us back over into the Cove.”

He veered up the ramp but didn’t answer. I let the silence go on for a few moments, in case he was just focused on the road, and then I tried again.

“Were you in sales in Georgia, too?”

“Is this an interview?” He shot the words back at me this time. “Look, I appreciate that you’re trying to be polite, to make conversation or whatever. But you don’t have to. I’m just the guy selling trees outside your office. You don’t have to be my new best friend or my welcome wagon or whatever. There was a misunderstanding with your keys, we took care of it, it’s done.” He swung the truck into the parking lot and braked to a stop along the side of the building.

My face was burning, and my throat got tight, my typical reaction whenever I was embarrassed. I reached for the door handle, pausing only long enough to pick up my shoes. “Thank you for driving me to the courthouse. Please make sure my keys get back to me before five o’clock.” I shoved open the door and stumbled out of the cab, not watching where I was going as I walked across the asphalt and into the building.

I made it to my office chair and collapsed, not sure which hurt worse: my feet or my ego.

CHAPTER 2

Trent

I  sat in the cab of my truck, watching the pretty blonde hustle across the parking lot, not stopping even though the pavement had to be hurting her bare feet. A pang of regret stabbed my chest.

Damn. I hadn’t meant to be such an asshole. Or maybe I had, but I hadn’t realized she’d take it like this. I just didn’t want to talk about my life in Georgia, or why I was in Florida selling Christmas trees, or anything else about myself. I’d come down here to make a little money, get my head on straight, and once I was back in Michigan, I’d figure out what came next.

“Yo, Trent!” My uncle Nolan laid a big hand on the door of my truck. “What’s going on?”

I shrugged. “Long story. Tell you later, but it’s taken care of. Hey, is Joe back yet?”

“Yeah, he’s handing out keys to the motel rooms.”

“Okay. Thanks.” I pushed the door open, and Uncle Nolan stepped back. “I’ll make sure everything’s set up here, and then we’ll secure it for the night. We’ll put up the signs in the morning, if that sounds good.”

“That works. Logan says the local cops patrol around here pretty regular, so we should be okay.” He took off his ball cap and scratched at the thinning hair on his head. “Crazy thing, selling trees before Thanksgiving, huh? Up ‘til a few years ago, we never would’ve opened until Black Friday. Used to be, Ellie’d make Thanksgiving dinner for us to eat at noon, and we’d have the trailer all loaded up. No sooner we’d take the last bite of pumpkin pie, the boys and me would be on the road, driving all night to get here and set up to sell.”

“I’m glad you can fly home this year and eat with Aunt El and the kids. And no worries about anything down here, right? We’ll take care of the trees.”

He clapped me on the shoulder. “I know that. Can’t tell you what it means to me that I can get on that airplane Wednesday and have a real Thanksgiving with my family.” He leveled a steady look at me. “There’s no one else I’d trust, Trent.”

The weight of his trust was heavier on me than the hand that gripped my arm. “I won’t let you down.”

“Good man. All right, enough with the touchy-feely stuff. Let’s finish up here so we can get settled over at the motel.”

“I’ll be right there. Gotta talk to Joe real fast first.”

I made my way through the maze of trees, most of them still tied up, until I spotted the red-haired kid standing near the open trailer. “Hey, Joe. Remember those keys I gave you to take inside to the lawyer?”

Confusion clouded his round face for a moment before understanding dawned. “Aw, shit, Trent. Nolan asked me to give him a hand with the posts, and I stuck the keys into my pocket and just forgot. I’m sorry. Was the lawyer pissed?”

“She wasn’t happy.” I muttered the words under my breath and then forced a smile as I looked back at Joe. “No big deal. Just do me a favor and run them into her now, okay?”

“Sure thing.” He headed for the front door, and I went back to moving trees into stands. I was on my third tree when I heard Uncle Nolan’s voice again.

“Trent, c’mere, son. Need you to meet someone.”

I stood up and stretched, making my way over to where my uncle stood with a tall guy in a suit.

“Logan, this is my nephew, Trent Wagoner. He’ll be the one in charge of the lot whenever I’m not here. And Trent, Logan Holt’s the owner of this building.”

“Sure, Trent and I spoke on the phone.” The man leaned forward, offering me a hand. “Nice to meet you. Glad we could make this happen.”

“We’re grateful you were willing to give us space at this late date.” Uncle Nolan grinned at me. “Who would’ve thought Trent would have the connections we needed?”

That stung. I knew he didn’t mean anything, and the fact was, he was right. I’d been the family screw-up for as long as I could remember. It wasn’t a shock that most people who knew me would be surprised that I’d come through on anything.

“Well, Jude and I love Burton. With Meghan living up there, we’ve gotten to know the whole town pretty well. So when we heard you’d lost your normal site, and we thought about this big parking lot, it only made sense.”

“And we appreciate that.” Uncle Nolan flickered a glance at me. “And Trent here taking over for me this year is a treat, too.” From the back of the trailer, Andy yelled, and my uncle grimaced. “Excuse me a minute.”

Logan shook his head. “Never a dull moment, huh? Hey, listen, I wanted to let you know that you and any of the other guys who’re staying to help are invited to Thanksgiving dinner at our house. We always do a big spread, and the more the merrier.”

The idea of being the only outsider at some huge family gathering didn’t exactly sound like fun to me, but I nodded anyway. Apparently Logan saw through me.

“I know, last thing you want to do is hang with a bunch of strangers. But think about it. You don’t have to let me know now. If it gets to Thursday and you decide you want to eat with us, come on over.” He leaned a little closer. “To be honest, you’d be doing me a favor. My wife’s a little down about this holiday, because it’s the first time the whole family won’t be home for Thanksgiving. Meghan’s coming to the Cove for Christmas, but you know how it is—she had to compromise, and that meant spending Thanksgiving in Burton. Jude understands, but she’s still missing her girl.”

I pictured Sam and Meghan Reynolds and imagined what the holiday would look like out on the family farm. Sam’s sister Ali would be there, without doubt, with Flynn and their daughter. It still grated a little, the fact that he’d swept back into town and gotten back with Ali as though he’d never left. As though he hadn’t skipped off and left her alone and pregnant. I knew I’d never had a real chance with Ali. She’d never seen me as anything other than a joke. But still . . . I couldn’t see Flynn Evans without being completely pissed.

Logan was looking at me expectantly, waiting for some kind of response. I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans.

“Thanks for the invitation. I’ll have to see what’s going on, but I’ll definitely keep it in mind.”

“You do that.” He patted my arm. “I’m heading home, but here’s my card. It’s got my cell number and my home address, too. Just in case you change your mind about dinner next week.”

Thanksgiving Day

The next week passed in a blur of pine needles and evergreen scent.

When Nolan had told me that we needed to be in Florida a week before Thanksgiving to sell Christmas trees, I’d had my doubts. I pictured Christmas in Florida as a weird mix of tropical shirts, palm trees with tinsel and Santas wearing sunglasses. But since we’d opened for business on Saturday, we’d been busy almost non-stop. Apparently Floridians liked to have their Christmas trees in order early.

I drove Uncle Nolan and my cousin Andy to the airport on Wednesday afternoon while Joe manned the trees. And then it was just the two of us.

We opened up at regular time on Thanksgiving morning, but as busy as we’d been all week, it was dead that day. The streets were silent, and the only sound in the tent was Joe cracking his knuckles and sighing.

By noon, I threw in the towel. We closed up, secured the lot and headed back to the small motel that was our home away from home until December 22nd. I flopped onto the bed on my back, groaning as I hit the mattress.

“So . . . what’re we going to do now?” Joe sat on the edge of his bed, his eyes fastened on the worn green carpet.

“I don’t know. Watch football, I guess? There’s a diner a few miles away, so we could go get some turkey or whatever later on.” I stared up at the ceiling.

Joe toed off his boots and stretched out. “If I were in Michigan, I’d be at my grandma’s house, getting ready to eat turkey. And everyone would be there, talking about the football games and the weather and all.” He sniffed, and I wondered if he was about to cry. The kid was just eighteen, after all, a cousin of Nolan’s wife, and clearly having a massive attack of homesickness.

“First time away from home on Thanksgiving?” I didn’t turn my head. Sometimes it was easier for guys to talk when they weren’t face-to-face. At least that’d been my experience.

“I’ve never been out of Michigan until now. Ever.” Yeah, there was a definite hitch in his voice.

“You guys always do the big family deal?”

“Yeah. My grandparents have a farm about an hour away from where we live, so everyone goes there for the holidays. All my cousins, my aunts and uncles.” He rolled onto his side. “This sucks. I feel like an orphan or something. Or like one of those people who’s been—what’s the word? Shunned? You know, like the Amish, where they kick out the kids who don’t follow the rules?”

I’d had about enough. Truth was, being stuck in the four walls of this motel room wasn’t doing anything for my holiday spirit either. Not that I was used to the kind of family deal Joe was, but at this point, anything was better than listening to his sniveling.

“Get up, kid.” I swung my legs around to the side of the bed. “I can’t take you back to Michigan, but I think I got the next best thing in mind.”

I ALMOST TURNED AROUND and headed for the diner when I saw how many cars were parked around the house at the address Logan had given me. Damn. When he’d said they had a big spread, apparently he hadn’t been kidding.

But before I could wimp out and run, Joe whistled low under his breath. “Look at this. It’s just like at Grandma’s.” He glanced at me, and I saw gratitude in his eyes. “It’s good, right? I mean, Uncle Nolan said this Logan’s a decent guy, and he’d want us to go, since they invited us.”

I choked back the smart-ass reply I wanted to give him. “Yeah, Joe. It’s good. We’ll go in, eat some turkey, make nice and then we got to get back. Tomorrow’s Black Friday, and we need to be open by seven. Got it?”

“Oh, yeah. I know. But hey, thanks for letting us do this.”

I finally found a spot to park the truck, and we headed across a green lawn to a house that looked like it had grown out of the beach. It was the same gray-blue as the waves I could hear hitting the sand just beyond. Just as Joe and I climbed the few steps to the front door, it flew open and a small boy with dark hair came racing out.

“DJ Hawthorne, get your little butt back in this—oh!” A pretty young woman with curling light brown hair stopped short at the sight of us. “I’m sorry, I’m just chasing down that little hooligan. He stole a finger-full of mashed potatoes from his grandmother’s pot, and she’s not happy.”

The little boy, who’d come to a halt just beyond Joe, giggled. “Grammy can’t catch me!”

“Grammy could catch you, easy-peasy. But it’s not really Grammy you need to worry about.” She crossed her arms over her chest and fastened the kid with a glare that left no doubt in my mind who she was. “It’s your mother who’s going to string you up by the heels if you mess around in the kitchen again.” She pointed into the house. “Get in there and apologize to your grandmother, then go find your dad. March.”

He marched, and as soon as he was beyond the doorway, his mom smiled at me. “Hey, sorry about that. I’m Lindsay Hawthorne.” She stuck out her hand. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Trent Wagoner.” I hooked a thumb at the boy behind me. “This is Joe Scarver. Uh, Logan invited us for dinner.”

“Oh, yeah, of course. You’re the Christmas tree guys, right? Come on in.” She stood back. “We’re just in the final stages of putting the food together, but there’re some nibbly things out already.”

We followed her into a large foyer, which opened to an even bigger room. People filled the sofas and chairs in the center, while a long row of tables flanked the far end, under a wall of windows that almost brought the beach into the house.

“Holy shit.” Joe muttered the words so that only I heard them. “This is amazing.”

I wasn’t sure if he meant the house or the people, so I only nodded. Lindsay had left us behind as she approached a small cluster of men, and I saw that Logan was one of them. She touched his arm, stood on tiptoe to whisper to him, and he turned, smiling.

“Hey, guys! Glad you could make it.” He shook my hand and then did the same to Joe as I introduced them. “As you can see, we have a few people here.”

“Yeah.” I shifted my weight, glancing around. “Is this . . . your family?”

Logan’s expression softened as he followed my gaze. “Yeah. Maybe not by everyone’s definition, but they’re the most important people in the world to me.”

“You mean to us.” A woman with long dark hair slid her arms around Logan’s waist. “Hi, I’m Jude.”

“And she’s the most important one of them all.” He tightened his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. “Babe, this is Trent and Joe.”

“Trent, I’m so glad to meet you. Meghan’s talked about you.” The way Jude took my hand and smiled made me wonder what her daughter might’ve said about me. After all, I’d been one of the first people Meghan had met the night she came to Burton. Granted, we’d both been wasted out of our minds, but we’d still connected. Fleetingly I wondered if she’d ever told Sam about our hot and heavy make-out session that night. Most of the evening was a blur, but I remembered that much.

“Uh, yeah. She’s great.” I cleared my throat.

Jude tilted her head. “You’re a friend of Sam’s, right?”

“I went to school with his sister, Ali.” I shrugged. “And it’s Burton. Everyone knows everyone else.”

Logan laughed. “We have some experience with that here in the Cove.” He laid a hand on my shoulder. “Why don’t you guys get something to drink and help yourself to appetizers? We’re going to bring out the main dishes shortly. Make yourselves at home.”

A makeshift bar had been set up in the corner of the room, and Joe trailed behind me as I made my way over. I dug into an ice-filled cooler and found a bottle of beer, while Joe popped open a can of soda.

“So does this make you feel better about not being in Michigan?” I lifted my beer toward the window. “You don’t get that kind of view on Grandma’s farm.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He took a sip. “It’s good to be around people. Better than just sitting at the motel all day, anyway.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “Thanks. Feeling the love, Joe.”

He flushed. “I mean, it feels more like Thanksgiving with all the people here.”

“I get you.”

The French doors next to us opened, and a group of people stepped inside from the deck I’d seen through the windows. They were mostly little kids, I realized—I spotted the mischievous little guy who’d nearly bowled us over earlier—but in the middle of them was an older girl, herding the crowd. She had light brown hair and wide brown eyes, and she was laughing at something one of the rug-rats said as she stepped past us.

Beside me, I heard Joe’s quick intake of breath. And I could’ve sworn the temperature of the air went up a few degrees. As though she felt it too, the girl stopped and turned her head, looking right into Joe’s eyes.

I expected her to keep on going, but instead, she came closer to us, her focus solely on Joe.

“Hi. I’m Alexis. I don’t know you.” She stood in front of him, with her hands on her hips, lips twisting into a teasing smile.

“Joe. Is me. I’m Joe.” He pointed to himself, his lips continuing to move even after sound stopped coming out. Damn, the kid had no moves.

I took pity on him for the second time in one day. “Joe Scarver. And I’m Trent Wagoner. We’re in town selling Christmas trees, and Logan invited us to dinner.” I paused, trying to remember if anyone had mentioned an Alexis. “Are you his . . .?”

She giggled. “No blood relation. I call them Uncle Logan and Aunt Jude because they’re the closest thing I have to family, outside my dad and mom.” She gestured toward the group of men sitting on the sofa watching football on the giant television screen. “That’s my dad over there. Cooper Davis. Logan’s, like, his best friend.”

I nodded, even though I had no idea about anyone she’d mentioned, outside of Logan.

“Are those your sisters and brother?” Joe regained his power of speech and jerked his chin toward the three children lingering nearby.

“No. Not yet, anyway. They’re Emmy’s kids, and my dad and Emmy just started living together. But maybe.” She looked over my shoulder, lost in thought for a few seconds, and then grinned again. “Want to come out front with us? I promised I’d keep the ankle biters out of the way while Jude and Emmy bring out all the food.”

Joe shot me a questioning glance, and I lifted one shoulder. “Go on. I’m fine.”

I didn’t have to tell him twice. The two of them were out the door, towing children. I took another swig of my beer and tried not to look as uncomfortable as I felt. I was just beginning to mosey toward the sofas to get a better view of the game when I heard a familiar voice.

“Oh, my God, Abby, it’s gorgeous.”

I twisted my head, my heart sinking. Yep, it was her. The blonde I’d been a jerk to last week, the one I’d gone out of my way to avoid seeing in the six days since. She was standing just outside the kitchen next to a woman with long black hair. Elizabeth was holding the woman’s hand, knuckles up as they both examined a ring.

As if she felt me looking at her, she turned and spotted me. The expression on her face didn’t change, but I saw her stiffen and angle her body so that her back faced me. Her friend—she’d called her Abby—frowned and glanced my way, and I figured Elizabeth was giving her the gory details about the jerk selling Christmas trees in her building’s lot. That’d be me, of course.

Before I could execute an escape, a strong hand gripped my arm, and I looked into a pair of dark, suspicious eyes.

“Who’re you?”

The guy was frowning—glowering, more accurately—as he waited for me to answer. I wondered what I’d done to piss him off.

“Trent Wagoner.” I’d said my name more today than I could ever remember. “I’m running the Christmas tree lot in front of Logan’s building.”

“Yeah. So who’s the kid?” The guy crossed his arms over his chest. “The one who just went outside with my daughter?”

Understanding dawned. “Oh—that’s Joe. He works with me.”

“Uh huh, and just how old is this Joe?”

“Cooper, are you harassing this poor guy?” A gorgeous red-haired woman appeared, ducking under Cooper’s arm and snagging his bottle of beer. She took a pull and then gave it back to him. Smiling at me, she stuck out a hand. “Emmy Carter, and this over-protective dad is Cooper. Jude told me you might be coming.”

“Oh, is this the Christmas tree guy?” Abby with the ring had drifted over, and I didn’t have to look behind her to know that Elizabeth was there, too.

“Yeah, and Cooper’s being his normal friendly self.” Emmy laughed. “He’s lucky the rest of us are on to him.” She narrowed her eyes. “Elizabeth, you’re blonde! I love it.”

I let my gaze wander over to her. She twisted a long curl around her finger, and I thought again how pretty she was. And I knew if I gave myself permission to look down her body, I’d be reminded that it was smokin’. I’d thought that in the truck last week, and God knew I’d been tempted.

“Thanks. I used to keep it this light all the time—it’s actually my natural color—but I thought going darker would make it easier for people to take me seriously as a lawyer.” She snorted, and fuck me if I didn’t think it was the cutest thing I’d ever heard. “I was wrong. But I haven’t had time until now to take it all the way back to the blonde.”

“Well, it’s perfect. And the hell with anyone who doesn’t take you seriously.” Emmy gave her a quick hug before she turned back to me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name. But have you met Elizabeth and Abby? They both have offices at the building where you’re working.”

“His name’s Trent.” Elizabeth spoke up before I could. “And yes, we’ve met.” The tone in her voice left no doubt about her opinion of that meeting. The other two women immediately clued into this fact, of course, rounding on her with interest.

“Oh, really?” Abby glanced from Elizabeth to me. “I see I’ve been missing out on the important stuff.” She glanced at Emmy. “I actually don’t have an office there anymore. We’ve moved everything over to the hotel now.”

“How did I not know that? See, this is what happens when we all get so busy. Plus, it’s these men in our lives. Back when we were both sex-starved single ladies, we had time for each other.”

Cooper slung his around her shoulders, pulling her into his body. “Yeah? And you miss that?”

Emmy gave him a half-hearted shove. “Of course I miss my friends. But no, I’m not looking to go back to the sex-starved singleness.”

“I think we’re making Trent here uncomfortable with all this sex talk.” Abby winked at me. “After all, he doesn’t know us. We should probably try to act like we know how to behave before we scare him off.”

“He does scare easily.” This came from Elizabeth as her mouth twisted into a half-smile.

“This sounds like a story I want to hear.” Emmy settled her attention on me. “Do tell all.”

“First I want to know about this Joe who took Lexi outside.” Cooper had been shut out by the ladies, but he hadn’t forgotten his main concern. “How old is he?”

I decided I was safer dealing with Cooper than with the females. “He’s eighteen, and he’s a good kid. And he didn’t take her outside. She asked him to come with her because she’s watching little ones.”

“Eighteen, huh.” His jaw clenched. “She’s sixteen.”

“Almost seventeen.” Emmy sighed. “And they’re not running off to a motel, Cooper. They’re in the front yard, with my kids and Mark’s and Eric’s, not to mention DJ, who’ll keep them running. Chill, babe.”

Cooper didn’t say anything else, but I noticed his jaw didn’t relax.

“So you’re from up north, Trent?” Abby’s eyes were curious. “You don’t talk like a Yankee.”

“Takes one to know one, Ab?” Emmy poked her in the ribs.

“He’s from Michigan.” Elizabeth seemed intent on filling in the group on my history.

“Doesn’t sound like Michigan.” Emmy raised her eyebrows.

“I’m from Georgia.” It wasn’t really a secret, or at least it wouldn’t stay a secret long here, where Jude and Logan both knew I’d lived in Burton. “I have family in Michigan, and I’m down here with them selling trees.” There, that should satisfy their curiosity. There wasn’t more to tell.

“And how did you meet Elizabeth, exactly?”

So I was wrong. There was more, but damned if I was going to tell it. I flickered a glance at the blonde.

“I forgot to move my car last week when they were putting up the tent. Trent had to come in to ask me to move it, and I was under deadline, working on a motion due that afternoon. So he moved it, and long story short, my keys weren’t available when I needed to get to the courthouse, so he drove me over there.”

“Ohhhhhh.” Abby’s eyes danced. “Well, if that isn’t a meet-cute, I’ve never seen one.”

“Not exactly.” Elizabeth leveled her gaze at me. “Mr. Wagoner here made it very clear that he didn’t find anything about me cute. Matter of fact, he couldn’t get me out of his truck fast enough.”

Two pairs of female eyes swung toward me. Cooper slapped me on the back. “I don’t know what you did, dude, but right now, sucks to be you. I’m going back to football. Good luck.”

Great. Abby cocked her head. “Really? How on earth can you think Elizabeth isn’t gorgeous? Any guy would be lucky to catch her eye.”

“Are you married?” Emmy made a point to look at my left hand. “Or engaged? Or dating someone?”

I considered lying just to get out of this mess. But it wasn’t smart to lie to girls about things like this, I’d learned, so I took a deep breath and shook my head. “No. I’m single.”

“Then why did you—”

A shrill whistle interrupted the words, and I wanted to kiss whoever did it. Logan stood at the entry to the kitchen, hands cupped around his mouth.

“Food’s going onto the tables now. Let’s get everyone together so we can give thanks.”

Everyone scattered, as the men rose slowly from the couches. A few minutes later, Joe sauntered over to me, and I spied Alexis talking with her dad.

“Hey, kid. Be careful with the girl, okay? She’s only sixteen.” Last thing I needed to do was explain to Uncle Nolan how I’d let his wife’s cousin hook up with an underage girl.

Joe scowled, but his face went red. “Nothing happened. We just talked. Geez, Trent.”

“Just sayin’. I know what it’s like to be eighteen.” Man, did I know. I wished I could go back and undo some of the shit I’d done back then.

“Okay, everyone.” Logan was talking again. “Happy Thanksgiving. Jude and I are both so glad everyone could be here with us to celebrate. We’re all blessed, and this is the time of year when we need to remember to give thanks.”

The room fell silent as Logan bowed his head. “Thank you for all the people in this room. Thank you for the children who’ve been born this year, who’ve grown and stayed healthy and especially for those who haven’t given their parents and grandparents extra gray hair.” A ripple of laughter spread over the crowd. “Thank you for the men and women who’ve found love, and thank you for those of us who’re even more deeply in love than ever. Thank you for homes, for families, for food and most of all for this amazing community where we live. May we always remember where home is. Amen.”

His final word echoed, and then Logan clapped his hands once. “Let’s eat!”

I’d never seen so much food in my life. I loaded my plate and found an empty seat at one of the tables on the deck. The sun was bright and warm, offsetting the cool breeze blowing in from the water.

“Kind of wild, isn’t it?”

I almost choked on my mashed potatoes as Elizabeth swung her leg over the bench and sat down next to me. She set her plate on the table and looked out over the ocean. “I mean, we’re eating Thanksgiving dinner on the beach. Outside, at the end of November. It’s not bad, it’s just weird.”

I managed to swallow my food. “Yeah, I guess so. It was never that cold in Georgia on Thanksgiving, but it wasn’t warm enough to eat outside. And the beach . . . we didn’t have that.”

“I lived up north for a few years here and there.” She stabbed a piece of turkey with her fork. “I remember snow one year for Thanksgiving. I was so excited. I realized what all those holiday songs were about.”

Part of me knew I should keep the conversation on this impersonal, weather-related level. Just like I would with anyone else here. But before I could overthink it, I heard myself asking her, “So you’re from the south?”

Elizabeth chewed for a minute, eyes unreadable as she swallowed. “I was an Army brat. My family originally comes from Tennessee, but I lived . . . a lot of places.”

She didn’t say it with much enthusiasm. I guessed moving around so much must’ve been tough on a kid. “Where did you live in the north?”

“Oh, let’s see.” She cast her gaze up, as though the answers were in the sky. “We were stationed at West Point for two years when I was in elementary school, and that’s where I saw snow for the first time. And then we were in Virginia when I was in middle school, and Maryland when I was in high school. Only for one year, though, and then my dad went TDY unaccompanied to South Korea, so my mom and my brothers and I went back to Tennessee while he was there.”

“TDY?” The acronym rolled off her tongue with ease, but I didn’t know many military terms other than what I’d heard in movies.

“Temporary duty. Unaccompanied means he couldn’t take us.”

“Ah, okay. Is your father still in the Army?”

“Yep.” She didn’t want to say anymore, so I didn’t push. Hell, I knew what it was like to want to avoid certain subjects.

“How did you—”

“Listen, I wanted to say—”

We both spoke at the same time, and Elizabeth laughed. “You go first.”

“No, ladies first. Besides, yours sounded more important.”

She sighed. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for throwing you under the bus in there. I don’t know why I did it. You had every right to turn me down. You’d just done me a big favor, and I should’ve been a little more gracious about it.” She licked some gravy from the edge of her fork, and as her tongue darted out, I felt a familiar tightening under the zipper of my jeans.

Damn. I didn’t want to want this girl. She was sexy, no doubt. Her hair was silky as it fell over her shoulders, and her eyes were wide and luminous. That mouth . . . yeah, I could imagine doing things to that mouth. And the way her body had moved in the short skirt she’d been wearing that day in the truck—shoot me now. Another time, another place, I’d have had her on her back in the cab of my truck, the skirt pushed up around her hips and her legs wrapped around me.

But that was another me. I’d changed, or I was trying to change. Moving to Michigan and working with Uncle Nolan was supposed to be my new start, and I’d be damned if I’d fuck it up.

I didn’t want to hurt her, though. She might’ve looked like she had it all together, like it didn’t matter if a guy like me didn’t fall at her feet, but I’d seen the flash of vulnerability on her face, both last week in my truck and this afternoon. I probably didn’t owe her anything, but I wasn’t going to be a dick, either.

“You were plenty gracious.” I laid my butter knife diagonally across my plate. “And it wasn’t anything you did or said. Thing is . . .” Damn. There wasn’t any way for me to say this without sounding like an idiot. “I’m kind of taking a break from girls right now.”

Elizabeth frowned, her forehead wrinkling. “Taking a break—oh!” Her eyes went wide. “Are you—I’m sorry, are you not into, um, women?”

“No! I mean, yes, I’m into women. I’m not gay. I don’t have a problem with it. Being gay, I mean. But I’m not.” Yeah, real smooth, buddy. “It’s actually kind of the opposite. I was sort of a little too into girls. I almost got into trouble, and it made me stop and think about what I was doing.”

“Okay, now I’m intrigued.” She wiped her lips with a napkin and turned sideways on the bench so that her body was angled to face me. “Let me get this straight. Are you on a sex fast?”

I blew out a breath and wished I could bury myself in the sand under the deck. “I guess you could call it that, yeah.”

“Unbelievable.” She shook her head. “A woman decides not to have sex for a while, and men call her frigid. A guy does it, and it’s some noble quest. A sex fast.” She balled up the napkin and tossed it onto the table. “Well, I’ve been on a sex fast, too. Only I didn’t choose it. And I’m ready for it to end.”

Shit. That’s what the other day had been about. She was reaching out for a little mindless fun, no strings attached, and she propositioned the one guy who couldn’t—or wouldn’t, rather—scratch her itch. I felt even worse.

“I’m sorry. The funny thing is, a couple of months back, I’d have been all over that. I mean, God, you’re hot. Saying no to you wasn’t easy. But I’m really trying to make a change in my life. In who I am. Just bad timing, I guess.”

“Bad timing.” Elizabeth laughed without much humor. “Story of my life.” She stared out over the ocean and took a deep breath. “So it’s not going to happen between us. We should at least be friends, right? You’re only going to be here for a little while, and I’ve got some time. All my single friends in town have hooked up or moved. If I’m not going to be having hot sex, I might as well have scintillating conversation.”

I grinned. “Not sure anyone’s ever accused me of scintillating conversation, but I’d be willing to give it a try.”

“Good. It’s a deal then. So why don’t you start by telling me what put you off sex?”

Whoa. “Jumping right into the deep end?”

She lifted one shoulder. “I’ve never been a fan of small talk. I grew up around people who did nothing but schmooze. They’d be talking with you and looking over your shoulder for the next more-important person they could chat up. So my feeling is, why have a conversation that doesn’t mean anything?”

“Fair enough.” I had to admire this woman who told it like it was. “I slept with a girl who took things between us to be more serious than they were. It wasn’t the first time it happened, but this time . . . it went further. She was really hurt when I told her I didn’t feel the same way she did.” There was more, of course. Jenna’s face flashed across my mind, and I winced. Much more, but I wasn’t willing to talk about that yet. Maybe I never would be ready. Some pain never went away, and some sins could never be atoned.

“So a girl you slept with couldn’t handle a one-night stand, and that was your life-changing experience? That put you off casual sex?” Elizabeth sounded skeptical.

I shrugged. “Maybe it was just the timing. You know, maybe I was finally mature enough for the lesson to penetrate my thick skull.”

She nodded slowly. “When you say you were ‘a little too into girls’, you mean lots of meaningless sex, right? That means you were a real man-whore?”

“If you want to call it that, yes, I guess so.”

“How many? A different girl every weekend?” She leaned forward, and I caught a whiff of her hair. It smelled like sunshine and oranges.

“Ah, sometimes. It wasn’t always sex. Sometimes just heavy making out.” But mostly it was sex. I kept that to myself.

“Did you ever have a girlfriend? Like back in high school or whatever?”

I shook my head. “Nope. I started pretty young, and I kept moving.”

“And no one in your family ever said anything to you? Your mom was okay with this?”

My throat tightened. “My mom didn’t have much to say about anything in my life. She was too busy fucking up her own.” Yeah, there was some bitterness there.

“Oh. So you weren’t close.”

“Not exactly. If you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk about that.” I pushed my empty plate away.

“Okay.” She must’ve sensed something in my tone that told her I was serious about this line. “So let’s go back to your man-whoring. Did you always take them back to your place? Or did you go to theirs? Or did you do it in the dark hallway of some sleazy club?”

I cocked an eyebrow at her. “Look, I’ve told you more than I wanted to. Can we change the subject? Let’s talk about you for a little while. Put Elizabeth under the microscope.”

“Okay, okay.” She spread her hands between us. “Ask me anything. I’m an open book.”

I was more comfortable with this line of conversation. “How did you end up in Florida?”

“Oh, that’s a sad story.” She leaned her head on her hand, giving me wide eyes. “I went to college in Virginia, and then I went on to law school, mostly because I couldn’t think of anything else I wanted to do. I figured it bought me another three years to figure it out. I got to be friends with another student, and we really hit it off. She used to come down here to visit her grandparents and loved Florida, so she talked me into moving down here with her and opening a practice together.”

“So far, so good. Doesn’t sound that sad.”

“Oh, just wait.” She held up a finger. “We got down here, rented an office, set up our practice. Our first day being open, we went to a bar to celebrate. Darcy—that’s my friend, my law partner—danced with a guy she met that night. And then she went home with him. And three weeks later, she told me she was marrying him. He was in the Air Force, stationed in Ohio, and six weeks after we hung up our shingle, Darcy moved up there.”

“Holy shit. She left you with everything down here?”

“She did. We’d gone into the practice fifty-fifty, so I had to buy her out. I’m just about finished paying her back. It’s what kept me down here—I couldn’t afford to move until I got out from under that debt.”

“Do you want to move?” I looked around at the beach, the beautiful house, all the people who surrounded us. Looked like she had it pretty good. I wasn’t sure I’d want to leave.

“I don’t know. Some days I think I don’t. I’ve made some friends now, and I like the weather in January and February a lot better than I like snow and ice. But I miss the change of seasons, and it kind of feels like I’m stagnating here. Going nowhere. You know what I mean?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I do. Same way I felt in Georgia. That’s another reason I moved to Michigan.”

“Because you needed to start over and become a reformed man-whore instead of a practicing one?” The teasing light in her eyes made me smile.

“That’s it exactly.” I turned on the bench, lifting my plate and reaching for hers. “I think I heard someone say there’s pie inside. Can I bring you a piece?”

Elizabeth winked at me. “Sure. If you’re not going to indulge my need for mindless sex, you might as well make yourself useful. Make it the chocolate pecan, okay? I happen to know Emmy made that, and she’s got the gift. Plus, they say chocolate’s a good substitute for sex. You know, when you’re not getting any. Like me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Listen, if you’re going to keep talking about sex, it’s going to be hard to be your friend. A friend would be supportive and encouraging, not tempting and undermining.”

She threw up her hands. “Fine. Just bring me the chocolate. I’ll try to keep the sexy talk to a minimum.”

CHAPTER 3

December 5th

Elizabeth

“I  understand, Mr. Greig. I know it’s Christmas time, but I sent your first invoice in March. Your case settled last January. You haven’t paid anything, and I have expenses, too.”

A blast of angry male voice burst out of the receiver, and I held it away from my ear, cringing. This was the part of my job I most hated. It was also the top reason I was almost definitely going to hire a secretary early next year, no matter how much paying that salary cut into my bottom line.

“Yes, I know you didn’t plan to be sued. But you were, and you retained my services to represent you. Oddly enough, the electric company doesn’t seem to understand when I tell them I can’t pay my bill because you didn’t budget enough money to cover my fees.”

There was a loud click on the other side of the phone, and I sighed as I hung up. At this point, I had two options: I could write off his unpaid bill, or I could farm it out to a collection agency. Neither was appealing to me, but I really couldn’t afford to let my invoices slide.

“Tough day?”

I looked up to the doorway of my office. Trent leaned against the wall, his worn baseball cap in one hand.

“Unfortunately, it was a typical day.” I stretched my back, twisting in my chair. “I hate making collection calls, so I leave it for the end of the afternoon. And then I go home all mad and frustrated. Sometimes I’m forced to drink multiple glasses of wine.”

Trent smirked. “I feel the same way, but with me it’s usually beers. Or shots of whiskey.”

“I’d be with you there. I’m an equal opportunity imbiber.” I glanced at the clock. “Are you leaving?” The Christmas tree lot stayed open until nine o’clock during the week, and Trent worked just about every night.

“I was supposed to work, but Uncle Nolan found out that they’re having a big Christmas light ceremony tonight on Main Street of Crystal Cove, so I’m heading down there to man a booth. I have to hand out flyers advertising the tree lot. Oh, and I’m giving away candy canes, too.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“I’d rather be here selling trees, but Uncle Nolan doesn’t want to go, and he doesn’t trust Joe or Andy to handle it. So I get the honor.” He tapped one finger against his thigh. “You wouldn’t want to go with me, would you?”

“Me?” I wrinkled my nose. “You want to take Scrooge into the heart of Christmas central?” I’d been candid with Trent about my feelings toward Christmas from the day he’d offered to bring me a tree for my office, free of charge. He teased me about my anti-holiday stance, but he never pushed me to change.

Trent blew out a sigh. “You’re not Scrooge. And I don’t feel like sitting there by myself. As my one and only friend in the state of Florida, I’m pretty sure you’re required to go with me.”

I stood up and leaned against my desk. “Hmmm. Maybe it’s not a bad idea. I mean, who knows? I might meet someone who’d be willing to help me end my sex fast.”

“Nice.” Trent scowled. “Do you really think I want to be part of you picking up dudes?”

I stuck out my tongue at him. “If I were picking up chicks, you’d be all over that. And you’re not interested in me, so why shouldn’t you help me find someone who is?”

He stared me down for a solid minute and then shook his head. “If you think . . . never mind. I’m heading down there in about twenty minutes, if you want to meet me by my truck.”

Turning, he stomped out through the foyer, and I heard the door close a second later. Shoulders slumping, I closed my eyes and dropped my chin to my chest. Over the last two weeks, I’d forged a surprising friendship with Trent Wagoner. He was more than I’d originally pegged him to be; he made me laugh, and our conversations tended to go deeper than I would have expected. I’d talked him into going to the movies with me, and I’d cooked dinner for him twice, on his rare evenings off.

And while he never gave me any indication that he was interested in anything other than friendship, I had to admit to myself that spending time with the man without jumping his bones was getting harder and harder. When he smiled at something I’d said, I wanted to take his face in my hands and cover his lips with mine. When I saw him lifting a bundle of trees, muscles flexed, I wanted to take off his shirt and run my hands over those pecs. And don’t even get me started on that tight ass, showcased in his jeans. Yum. It’d been featured prominently in more than one of my dreams.

But I respected what he’d told me on Thanksgiving. He was making an honest attempt to be a better man, and even though my raging libido said otherwise, I couldn’t get in the way of that.

At least that was what I told myself. But when I walked out into the parking lot and saw Trent leaning against the side of his truck, his feet in their heavy boots crossed at the ankle, hands jammed into the front pockets of his worn jeans and his ball cap keeping his eyes in shadow, my breath caught and my chest tightened. I couldn’t see his face, but somehow I knew he was watching me as I made my way across the asphalt. My heart beat a little faster, and I slowed my pace, letting my hips sway just a tad.

He didn’t move until I reached the truck, and then a smile curved his lips as he pushed away from the vehicle. “You all set for some Christmas magic?”

I held back the snarky answer that was on the tip of my tongue. “You know it. Hey, do we have time to stop at my house real fast, so I can change? I can’t walk too far in these heels and this skirt.”

Trent flickered a glance down my body and nodded. “Sure.” He opened the passenger door and stepped back. “Climb in.”

I’d been in his truck since that first time, and I’d learned to slide over toward the middle and avoid the door, as he’d warned me. I’d just fastened my seat belt when Trent swung into the driver’s seat, started her up and backed out of the space.

“I thought we’d grab something to eat in town, is that okay?”

“Sure. I’m starving. I bet Jude’ll be open later, with all the people coming into town. I’d kill for a Ripper burger.”

The small apartment I rented was only about ten minutes from the office. Trent pulled up in front of my door and hit the parking brake, but he didn’t turn off the engine.

“I’ll just wait out here.”

I unlatched my seat belt. “Are you sure? Why don’t you come in and have something to drink? I promise, I won’t molest you.”

He shot me a withering look. “I’m not afraid of that. I just want to make sure we get down there in time to eat, and if I go inside with you, you’ll dawdle.”

I slid out of the seat and put my hands on my hips. “Dawdle? Me?” I sent him a saucy smile. “And just for that, if you stay out here, I’m going to take my good old sweet time. And I’m from Tennessee, I know how to do that.”

With a huff, he pulled the keys from the ignition and climbed out. Slamming shut the door, he came around and followed me up the sidewalk to my stoop. “There. Are you happy?”

I batted my eyes sweetly. “I’m not unhappy.”

Once inside, Trent flopped down on what he called my lady couch, a narrow antique fainting sofa. I’d bought it when I first moved down here at an estate sale because it reminded me of something my grandmother used to have in her sitting room.

“This is the most uncomfortable piece of furniture I’ve ever seen,” he complained.

“Then sit on the floor.” I dropped my purse onto the small dining room table and kicked off my heels.

“Hey, you still don’t have any Christmas decorations up.”

I flipped through a few envelopes from the day’s mail. “Nope. We’ve been over this, Trent. I don’t do Christmas. And even if I did care about it, I don’t have time to put up a lot of junk that only I’d see.”

“Still . . . you don’t want a tree? I could hook you up.”

I shook my head. “I’m trying to ignore the season, dude. Hard to do that with a big ol’ evergreen shedding needles in my living room.”

He didn’t respond, but I noticed the frown between his eyes as I headed into the bedroom to change.

“Get yourself a beer or whatever out of the fridge.” I called the words over my shoulder.

“Nah, I’m good. Need to stay clear-headed.”

I wriggled out of my skirt and tossed it into the laundry basket and then tugged down the Lycra no-line underwear that the clingy material of the skirt required. “You mean you need a clear head to hand out flyers? Really?” I slipped on fresh cotton boy shorts and bent over to dig for jeans in my drawer, jumping up and down to pull them into place.

“No, I need it so I can handle you.” His voice sounded closer than it should have, and before I could cover myself with the blue V-neck I’d taken from my closet, he was standing in the doorway.

I stood there in my jeans and my bra, frozen. Trent didn’t move either, and I wondered if he’d gone into shock. His mouth opened, and then he wheeled around.

“Sorry.” The word was full of embarrassment and something else I couldn’t pinpoint. “I thought you’d be changing in your closet or whatever.”

“No big deal.” I slid the shirt on. “It’s not like I was naked. And it’s not like I have anything you haven’t seen before, right?”

“Yep.” Still, he didn’t turn around.

“Hey, I’m decent now. Just let me grab some shoes, but you can come in.”

He moved mechanically and stood just in the doorway. “Have you ever been to this Christmas lighting thing before?”

“Uh, no. I’ve only been here for two other Christmases.” I stepped into a pair of flats. “And as you know, I don’t go in for a lot of the holiday . . . stuff.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You ready then?”

“Sure.” I grabbed a sweater from the hook behind my door. “Let’s go.”

THE MAIN STREET of Crystal Cove was decorated to the hilt and filled with people. Trent grunted as he maneuvered the truck around crowds. “Where the hell am I supposed to park?”

“If we go down to the Tide, Jude’ll have some open spots. And then we’ll be right there to eat, too.”

He didn’t answer as he drove to the end of the street and found a place to park. The Riptide was busy, but we managed to score two stools at the bar and order burgers. Trent was uncharacteristically quiet as we ate.

“Are you really that unhappy about having to hand out ads tonight?” I dragged a fry through ketchup and stuck it into my mouth.

“Nah, it’s no big deal.” He shrugged.

“Then what’s up? You’ve been sulky since we left my house.”

“Just tired, I guess.” He pushed back the glass of sweet tea and signaled to Jude’s son Joseph who was working the bar tonight. “Changed my mind. I’ll have a beer after all.”

Once we’d finished, Trent retrieved the flyers from his truck, and we made our way up the street. Logan had set aside a table specifically for the Christmas tree business at the curb in front of the bed and breakfast he owned. Like the other vendor booths, it was decorated with fake greenery and a festive table cover. Trent groaned when he saw it.

“I’ve got to sit here all night? It looks like Christmas puked all over this table.”

I folded my arms over my chest. “Oh, come on, it’s not that bad. I’ll stay with you. We’ll hand out candy canes. And look, there’s even a Santa hat for you to wear.”

Trent got a deer-in-the-headlights look. “No way. That’s the line right there.”

“And you call me a Scrooge?”

“No, you call you a Scrooge.”

“C’mon, Wagoner, get into the spirit of things.” I stood on tip-toe and tried to pull the hat onto his head as he ducked away and grabbed it out of my hands.

“How about you get into the spirit, Hudson?” He snaked one long muscled arm around me before I could get away, holding me against his body as he managed to fit the hat onto the top of my head. I struggled to get away, but he only held me tighter.

Suddenly, I didn’t mind so much. My body became aware on every level that it was pressed up against a hard male, and my skin tingled. My breasts were smashed into Trent’s ribcage, making me wonder if he could feel the way my heart was pounding as I looked up into his face.

Something changed in his eyes. The hat was much too big for me, and it slipped down over my forehead, but Trent caught it, tugging it back up. The touch of his fingers on my face was gentle; it almost felt as though he was tracing a line over my forehead. His mouth opened a little, and I swallowed hard as my tongue darted out of its own accord to sweep over my own lips. For the space of two heartbeats, I was sure Trent was going to kiss me.

But the moment passed. His eyes shuttered, and he pulled the hat down farther, so that it covered my eyes and nose. I was blinded as he released me and stepped back.

“There you go. Now you look just like Mrs. Claus.”

I tore off the hat and threw it at him. “Nice job. Now my hair’s a mess.” I ran my hands over the top of my head.

“No one’s going to notice. It’s going to be dark soon.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll notice.” I gave my hair one last swipe. “Does it look okay? Or is it sticking up all over?”

Trent glanced down at me and then away. “You look fine.”

“Thanks for the ringing endorsement. Please stop, you’ll make me blush.”

He snorted and thrust a pile of flyers toward me. “Here. Make yourself useful. The sooner we get rid of these, the sooner we can get out of here.”

His voice was tight, and I was confused. Why had he invited me tonight, if he didn’t want me around? And what had made him suddenly go so cold and distant? I smothered a sigh and concentrated on the task at hand. Men were a mystery, and I wasn’t going to figure out this one tonight.

The crowds began to grow as the evening went on. Trent and I stood on either side of the table, pressing the colorful paper ads and candy canes into the hands of every passer-by. As soon as it was fully dark, the mayor came out onto the balcony above us. Speaking into a microphone, he welcomed everyone to Crystal Cove’s official Christmas lighting and thanked all the businesses that had contributed to the evening, specifically mentioning Jude and Logan.

“And now we’re happy to welcome our grand marshal for the evening, Matt Spencer. As most of you know, Matt owns The Surf Line, and he’s a long-time community leader in the Cove. He’s here with his wife and two daughters, and they’re going to be the ones to throw the switch that’ll light up Crystal Cove for the holiday season!”

I craned my neck to see Matt standing with Sandra, who held their brand-new baby, and their daughter Lily. Matt lifted the little girl in his arms and whispered into her ear. Lily reached for the beribboned switch and moved it into the on position.

Magically, Crystal Cove was awash with sparkling, twinkling lights. The crowd gasped in delight, and even I couldn’t help smiling.

“Pretty, aren’t they?” Trent murmured into my ear, and I realized he was very close behind me. “Doesn’t matter if you’re in the snowy north or the balmy south, Christmas lights are . . .”

“Magic.” I supplied the word I’d just thought.

“Yep. That’s it.” For a minute, I thought he was going to thread his arms around me and pull me tight to his body. His breath fanned over my neck, and I shivered, not moving, willing him to hold me.

But just as before, he stopped short. I felt his absence even before he spoke again. “The flyers are gone. We can take off. We’ve both got to be at work early tomorrow.”

I nodded and followed him through the crowd, back to where we’d left the truck at the Tide.

Given Trent’s mercurial mood tonight, I’d expected the ride back to the Christmas tree lot to be silent. But as soon as we’d gotten out of town, he glanced over at me.

“Tell me about you.” It’d become our go-to joke the last few weeks. Trent had realized that my abhorrence of small talk meant I’d tell him almost anything about myself, as long as he asked the right questions. And although I’d found he had certain impenetrable boundaries, he was willing to talk about his own life . . . up to a point.

“What do you want to know?” I turned in my seat to face him.

“Why don’t you like Christmas?”

I hesitated. “It’s not necessarily that I don’t like Christmas. But it’s like the small talk. I want it to mean something. In the military, Christmas was a time to throw fancy parties and make grand gestures. The officers’ wives club would make a big show of helping out some charity, people they didn’t care about the rest of the year. And then . . .” My voice trailed off. “In my family, holidays were tough. My father was away for more Christmases than he was home. When he was gone, my mom kind of went into hibernation. If we were in Tennessee with my grandparents, things weren’t bad, but if we weren’t, Christmas was half-hearted at best. But on the years my dad was with us, Mom went all out, making everything into a huge deal. Santa pictures, decorating the tree, making the house perfect . . . she went crazy. I couldn’t take it. There was never any happy medium.”

“Ah.” Trent nodded. “So will you see your family this year? Where are they stationed now?”

I shook my head. “No. Dad’s assigned to the Pentagon right now, but I won’t be going there. I always try to come up with a reason not to go home for the holidays. This year was easy, because they’re going to spent Christmas in Germany with my brother’s family.”

“Why’s your brother in Germany?”

“He’s stationed there.” My lips curved into a half-smile. “Both of my brothers went into the military, too.”

“Oh.” He made a sharp turn onto the road that led to our office building. “Were your parents upset that you didn’t choose the Army, too?”

“No, they never wanted that for me. My dad’s pretty old-fashioned. He’s tolerant of women in the military, but not his daughter.”

“So they were glad you became a lawyer?”

I lifted my shoulder. “They’re proud of me. As much as they can be, because my parents really don’t understand anything outside the Army. It’s all they’ve ever known. So they try to be supportive, and they ask questions, but honestly, they just don’t get it.”

Trent didn’t say anything as he pulled into the parking lot of my building. His uncle Nolan and Joe looked like they were just shutting down for the night, and they both waved as we passed. I wondered what his uncle thought of me, of his nephew’s friendship with me. Did he think I was leading Trent astray? And was I?

Trent turned off the truck engine and hopped out, coming around to open my door. I climbed down, but he didn’t move away immediately. His large body shielded me from any curious eyes over at the tree tent, even as it trapped me inside the door of the cab.

“Thanks for helping out tonight. I really appreciated not having to do that by myself.” His nearness made me dizzy, and I held to the door for balance.

“I didn’t do anything. But thanks for asking me. I’m glad I got to see the famous lighting of Crystal Cove. I can now die a happy girl.”

He smirked. “One item off the bucket list, huh?”

“You know it.” I looked down, and then glanced up at him, waiting for his next move. He didn’t seem to know what that was going to be anymore than I did.

“Well . . .” He paused and then faster than I could react, leaned down to kiss my cheek. “Thanks again, Elizabeth. Good night. See you later.”

He moved out of the way so that I could pass him, and once I did, he slammed the truck door and stalked over to the Christmas tree tent. He didn’t spare me another look as I made my way to the car and got in.

I was annoyed to find that my hands were shaking just the slightest bit as I held the steering wheel. My heart was still thumping as the adrenaline from the almost-kiss dissipated.

Yup, I’d be taking yet another cold shower tonight.

CHAPTER 4

Trent

December 20th

“Y o, Trent. That tree all set on the lady’s car?” Uncle Nolan came up behind me, wiping sap off his hands with a rag.

“Yeah, I tied it on there pretty tight. Hope she has someone at home to help her get it down, ‘cause she sure picked out a big one.”

Uncle Nolan laughed. “Not our job, son. We sell the trees, secure them to the customers’ vehicles, and then it’s all on them from there.”

Things were beginning to slow down at the tree lot. Our last truckload would arrive later today, and once that one was sold out, we’d close up shop. Uncle Nolan said it was possible they wouldn’t all sell, and we’d close on the twenty-second, regardless.

“We’ll hit the road at five that day, be back in Michigan for lunch on the day before Christmas Eve.”

“What about the leftover trees?” I glanced around the tent.

“We’ll leave ‘em. Nothing we can do with them anyway, and I figure there’s always folks who can’t afford a tree who’d be blessed by finding a free one here.” He paused, his eyes on me. “You’ve been a real help around here, Trent. I don’t know what you’re thinking about for the next year, but we could sure use you up on the tree farm. Lot of opportunity, if you’re interested.”

A small knot rose in my throat. “Thanks, Uncle Nolan. I’m glad I could help.”

He nodded. “I know you’ve had a rough time of it, boy. But you’ve been steady here, no drinking or running wild with women. You’re a good example to Andy and Joe.” He raised one eyebrow. “Though I’ve noticed maybe you got your eye on a certain girl. Maybe a blonde-haired lawyer who likes to hang around Christmas trees?”

I almost swallowed my tongue. He’d noticed? I’d been careful to keep things casual between Elizabeth and me, even though how I was feeling about her was anything but. I’d come close to kissing her more than once, and I knew she could tell. But she didn’t push me. I didn’t know whether to be glad about that or not. Because I knew if Elizabeth gave me an opening, if she made the slightest move toward me . . . all bets were off. And her clothes would be, too.

Speaking of which, ever since I’d seen her in just her bra and jeans a few weeks back, that image had haunted my dreams nightly. I hadn’t been this horny without doing anything about it since I was in junior high.

My uncle was still waiting for a response. I swallowed hard and shrugged. “She’s a friend. She knows it can never go further than that between us. We’re just having fun, hanging out. Nothing more.” I emphasized those last words, just to be clear.

“Hmph. That’s a shame. She seems like a nice girl. And I hear what you’re saying, but I also got eyes in my head, and I’ve seen you look at her. You’re practically drooling, boy.”

“It’s not like that.” I shook my head. “I learned my lesson, Uncle Nolan. I’m not going to be responsible for wrecking another girl’s life.”

“And you think you’d do that to her? Seems to me, she’s old enough to know her own mind. I understand that you’re trying to be a better man. I admire you for that. Change isn’t easy. But far as I know, you never forced a woman to be with you. Maybe before you chose the wrong ones, the ones who weren’t worth sticking around for. And I think you have changed. Maybe you know better now.”

I kicked at a pile of pine needles on the ground. “Not sure I can take that chance.”

Uncle Nolan laughed. “Trent, son, life is nothing without taking chances. We take a chance with every breath we draw. I’m not going to tell you what to do, but just so you know, that pretty blonde lawyer lady gets googly eyes every time she sees you, too. I don’t know much, but I know you don’t get a lot of chances like this. Seems like it’d be a shame to miss it.”

I sucked in a deep breath. I’d been hearing what a loser I was for so long, it felt odd to hear someone else tell me I was being too hard on myself. But I thought of Elizabeth’s wide blue eyes and the smile that made my heart skip. I’d never known a girl like her before. Plenty had made me want to get into their pants, but none had made me want to get into their hearts.

Elizabeth did.

“Uncle Nolan, would it be okay if I didn’t leave here with you on the twenty-second? Maybe . . . I might hang around down here for a little while and then fly up north. If you’re all right with it.”

He grinned. “Sounds like a plan, son.”

I WAITED OUTSIDE THE BUILDING, watching for Elizabeth. She was usually pretty punctual, leaving work right around five, but today, it was nearly six before I spotted her coming through the foyer. I knew the minute I saw her that something was wrong; she wasn’t walking with her typical spunk. She was moving slow, and one hand was up behind her neck, rubbing it as though a killer headache lurked back there.

She was through the doors and about to head for her car when she caught sight of me leaning against a planter.

“Hey.” She paused. “What’re you doing? I thought you were working every night until you leave.”

I lifted one shoulder. “We’ve slowed way down. Uncle Nolan told me to take the night off.”

“Okay.” She stared at me, her forehead drawn together. “Well . . . have fun.” She pivoted away from me on one high heel.

“Where’re you going?” I called out the words before she could get very far.

“Home. Home to a long hot bath, a carton of chocolate-peanut butter ice cream and a Leverage marathon.” Her voice held all the weariness I’d seen in the slump of her back.

“Can I tempt you with something else? Maybe . . . a walk on the beach, and then I take you to get that ice cream?”

Her eyes flashed up at me, confusion and question in them. “A walk on the beach?”

I nodded. “Yeah. You look like you could use it, and I know I could. It’s pretty today. How often do you get to stroll on the beach at sunset in December?”

“I don’t know.” Her mouth twisted, and I knew she was considering it. “I’m really tired, Trent. It’s been a shitty day.”

“Give me this.” I closed the small gap between us and took her free hand, the one not holding the bulging briefcase, in mine. “C’mon, Elizabeth. I only have a few days left here.”

She sighed, dropped her head back and closed her eyes. “Okay, fine. Let me go home and change—”

“Nope. Come with me now. You can leave your shoes in the truck. If you go home, you won’t want to leave again, and besides, we’ll miss sunset if we don’t go now.”

“Geez, when did you get to be so pushy?” she grumbled, but she started walking toward the truck. “Let’s go.”

She let me hold the door for her as she climbed into the cab. When she reached for the seatbelt, I stopped her hand.

“Here, let me.” I gave it a tug and leaned over her body, not missing her sharp intake of breath as my hand skimmed over her hip. I pulled the belt tight and grinned. “There you go, all safe and sound.”

Elizabeth was quiet as we drove into the heart of the Cove. She leaned her head against the seat, her eyes staying closed until I parked the car in the Riptide lot again. Tonight it was empty, since the restaurant closed at five during the week when nothing was going on in town.

I took off my boots and stuffed my socks into them before rolling up my jeans. When I came around to the other side of the truck, Elizabeth was waiting, her shoes off and her hair down out of its pins. It danced over her shoulders, making me want to wind it between my fingers.

I offered her my hand, and with just the slightest frown, she took it. As we walked down onto the sand, the sun was shooting its last beams from behind us, turning gold when it hit the water.

“Someday, I want to do the sunrise to sunset deal.” Elizabeth lifted her face to the sky. “You start out here, at sunrise, then race across the state to see the sunset over the Gulf.”

I considered. “Would you really have to race? Doesn’t it take, like, four hours or so to get from here to Clearwater? Unless you’re going by horseback, you could be there before lunch.”

She laughed, and the sound was like bells. “You’re right. Well, maybe you could stop for lunch along the way. And then you have to remember the traffic on the Four. It’s a pain in the ass.”

“So you keep telling me.” I led her down to the edge of the water, where the waves lapped at our feet.

Elizabeth squealed. “Oh my God, it’s cold.”

“Not that bad.” I dropped her hand and stood behind her. “If you get used to it, it feels good.” I lifted her hair, moving it over her shoulder, and began to rub her neck. “You looked tense, coming out of work.”

“Mmmmmmm. Like I said, it was a rough day.” She leaned back into my hands, and my mouth went dry at her near-moan of pleasure. “You can stop doing that in, oh, about ten years or so.”

I’d have done it, too. The feel of her skin under my hands made my body leap to life, and I knew it was more than just the months I’d been sex-free. It was Elizabeth herself, every part of her, her scent, her low voice . . . all of her. I wanted to lay her out here, on the sand, and kiss her senseless as the waves broke over our bodies. I swallowed hard and willed myself to take it slow.

“This is just perfect. Thanks for suggesting that we come to the beach. My default reaction to a bad day is to cocoon in my apartment and throw a huge pity-party, table for one. But this is better.”

“Yeah.” My voice sounded like the croak of a frog.

Elizabeth turned her head, looking back at me, her eyes searching my face. “You okay?”

“Sure.” I cleared my throat and slid my thumbs beneath the neck of her shirt, pressing the muscles at the top of her spine.

“Are you looking forward to getting back to Michigan in a few days?” There was just a trace of wistfulness in her tone, but it was enough to be my undoing. My hands stilled, and then they slid down to her upper arms.

“No. No, I’m really not.” This time, I couldn’t hide the mix of desire and need in my words. I caught her chin between two fingers and my thumb, nudging it up enough that I could reach her lips.

“No, I don’t want to leave.” I hesitated for a breath of time, savoring that moment of urgency just before our mouths met.

I planned to kiss her slowly, to coax open her mouth, to woo her. But the instant we connected, something exploded inside my chest. Elizabeth made a small noise in the back of her throat, and I couldn’t do anything but consume her.

I opened my mouth over her lips, my tongue searching for hers. She turned in my arms and brought her hand to the back of my neck, pressing her body against me. Her breasts were crushed to my chest, and she ground her hips into me.

I sucked her lower lip into my mouth, tickling it with my tongue. She stroked hers over mine and then swept it beyond, testing and tasting. She made me think of cotton candy and summer time, as the salt air surrounded us, the dampness coating us.

“Trent . . .” She lifted her head a fraction of an inch away from me, so that I could almost feel the vibration of her voice against my lips. “What’re we doing?”

I smiled, rubbing my fingers over her arms. “Taking a chance.”

WE WALKED the beach for over an hour, until the sky was a blanket of stars. I held Elizabeth’s hand the whole time, and the way her fingers felt between mine was unlike anything I could remember. I’d spent most of my adult life—and some before then, too—focused on getting girls into bed. I never wasted time on crap like handholding or talking with a girl. If she didn’t want to get hot and heavy fast, I moved on to the next one, who did. There was always a next one.

But having Elizabeth next to me, listening to her talk, only made me want to spend more time with her. I wanted to hold her against me, even if that was as far as we took things.

For now, anyway.

We walked to Jimmy’s and had ice cream cones. The Christmas lights had come on by then, bathing our faces in a red and green glow.

“Tell me about you.” Elizabeth turned the tables on me, smiling at me over her mint chocolate chip cone as she used the line I usually gave her.

“What do you want to know?” I brushed long locks of hair out of her face.

“I told you why I don’t make a big deal out of Christmas. What about you? I get the feeling you didn’t have much of a family life growing up. I’d think holidays wouldn’t hold many happy memories for you.”

“Yeah, you’d think that, wouldn’t you? But actually, Christmas was the one time of year that things were different for me. My mom . . . she was crazy, but she’d been raised in a church-going family, and so when it came to the holidays, she always found some way to straighten up. We didn’t have much in the way of stuff, but for two or three weeks, she was my mom.” I sighed. “And then New Years came around, and it all went to hell again.”

Elizabeth reached up, hesitant, and touched my cheek. “I’m sorry.”

I caught her hand and turned my lips to kiss her palm. “I’m not. You know how you were talking about how important it is for things to be real? Well, for me, Christmas was the only real time of year. Every year, it felt like anything was possible. Things could change. Life could be different.”

She reached up on her toes and kissed my cheek. “You, Trent Wagoner, are a much deeper man than you let on.” She narrowed her eyes as she popped the last bite of cone into her mouth. “Unless that’s just a line you use to get a girl into bed.”

“Honey, I never had to use a line to get any woman into bed. Or into my truck. Or up against a wall.” I stepped closer to her. “Or in the dark corner of a quiet street.”

She giggled. “Down, boy. You might not have to sweet-talk your way into my bed, but I’m not going to let you grope me on the streets of Crystal Cove.”

I traced a finger over her jaw and around to touch her lips. “I’m not trying to grope you here.” Leaning forward, I kissed the tip of her nose. “And I’m not trying to get into your bed. Not tonight. I’m a new man, remember?”

“Hmm. And this new man doesn’t like sex?” She lifted one eyebrow.

“Oh, he likes it. He likes it a lot. But he’s thinking he might like it even more with the right girl, rather than the convenient girl.”

Her lips curved into a smile. “Do you have any ideas about who the right girl might be?”

“She might be closer than I expected.” I held her a little closer. “But I’ve also got another new rule. No sex on the first date.”

“Well, we’re both in luck then, because this, tonight?” She pointed at me and then back at herself. “Not our first date. Not by a long shot. It’s like our . . .” She cast her eyes up, thinking. “Fifteenth date or something.”

“Nope. Those were friend-dates. Tonight is our first date.”

“How do you figure?”

“Because.” I covered her lips with mine but kept it quick. “Because tonight I kissed you. That’s why it’s our first official date.”

“Aha. I didn’t know about that definition.” Her smile faded just a little. “Will there be a second date?”

“Funny you should mention that. I was just going to ask if you’d like to spend Christmas Eve with me.”

“Wait—what?” Elizabeth’s mouth dropped open just a little. “But you’ll be gone by then. Back in Michigan.”

“Really? Then why did I make a reservation for two to have dinner at the Riverside Hotel on Christmas Eve?”

“You did? You’re not leaving?” The delight in her voice sent a wave of warmth through my chest. A small part of me had been scared she wasn’t going to be happy that I was staying.

“Not before Christmas. If you’ll let me spend it with you, that is.”

This time her smile was huge.

CHAPTER 5

Christmas Eve

Elizabeth

“Welcome to the Riverside Hotel. Merry Christmas!” Abby Donavan met us at the door of the restaurant inside the hotel. She wore a dark green silky dress that flowed from gathered shoulders and on her lips was a brilliant smile.

“Merry Christmas.” I leaned in to kiss her cheek. “You look beautiful. Where’s your handsome fiancé?”

Abby’s face went pink, but her smile dimmed a little. “He’s been on a job in Missouri all month. He was supposed to be home—well, here—by yesterday, but he’s stuck in the airport. That freak snow storm that hit the Midwest this week.”

I squeezed her arm in sympathy. “Oh, Abby, I’m so sorry. Your first Christmas together, too.”

She shrugged. “It’s all right. I know he wants to be here, and that’s all that’s important, right?” She lifted her gaze to Trent and winked. “Why, look here, if it isn’t the Christmas tree salesman! Isn’t this the guy who shot you down, Elizabeth?”

I laughed as Trent slid his arm around me. “I never take no for an answer. And just like the Mounties, I always get my man.”

“Yeah, she wore me down.” Trent bent over in a huff of breath as my elbow met his stomach. “With her gentle and loving ways.”

Abby’s lips twitched. “I see. Well, let me show you to your table.”

The Riverside Hotel restaurant was decorated in period holiday pieces, with greenery draped around doorways and windows tied with burgundy velvet bows. Our small round table was covered in a deep green tablecloth and set with fine white china.

“Did I tell you how handsome you look tonight?” I sat back in my chair, letting myself drink in the view. Trent had put on a new charcoal-gray suit with a crisp white shirt, and it fit him like a glove. A very snug, muscle-hugging, probably-should-be-illegal glove.

“You might’ve mentioned it a time or two, but feel free to say it as much as you like.” His eyes swept over me. “And while you say it, lean forward so I get another eyeful of your . . . ah, assets.” He waggled a brow, and I laughed, shaking my head.

“Men. Show a little cleavage and you go ga-ga. It never fails.”

“Only your cleavage, honey. That dress . . . whooo, boy. You’re a knock-out.” He winked at me as the waitress arrived with our appetizers.

We’d just finished our salad course when a loud voice at the door cut through the dining room.

“Where’s my beautiful fiancée?”

Ryland Kent stood in the doorway, looking incongruous against the palm trees as he held a winter coat, with an overstuffed duffle on his shoulder. His eyes searched the room.

“Ryland?” Abby stepped out of the kitchen, her hand at her throat. “What are you doing here? I thought—”

“You thought I’d let a little thing like snow keep me from spending Christmas with the most beautiful woman in the world?” He dropped his bag and coat and took three long strides toward her.

Abby Donavan was one of the most elegant, cool and composed women I’d ever met, so no one was more surprised than me when she met Ryland half-way and leaped into his arms.

An ‘awwwww’ swept over the room as Ryland took Abby’s face in his hands and kissed her thoroughly as her arms clung to him. I couldn’t help the sigh that escaped my lips.

Across from me, Trent cleared his throat. “Wow, huh?”

“Yes. So romantic.” I laid down my fork. “They’re very much in love.”

“Elizabeth?”

“Yes?”

“Do you want to get our dinner to go and get out of here?”

Heat like I’d never felt before rose up my body.

“Oh, yeah. I do.”

I KNEW Trent had been on a sex-fast, and I knew he’d put a lot of work into making tonight perfect for the both of us. But I was surprised at how nervous he seemed on our way back to my apartment.

He checked his phone before he climbed into the cab, and he drove with extraordinary care. As in very, very slowly. I was about ready to push him out of the way and put the pedal to the metal, because I wanted to be alone with this man now. Like yesterday.

“Trent, did you change your mind? About me, about tonight? Because it’s okay. If you did—”

“What? No. Of course not.” He shot me an incredulous look. “Why would you say that?”

“Because a snail crawling backward down the side of the road just paced you, dude. And you took the long way around, instead of the direct route. Listen, if I spooked you by saying you should check out of your motel room and stay with me tonight, I’m sorry.”

He rolled his eyes at me. “Elizabeth, just because I haven’t had sex in a while doesn’t mean I’m like some jumpy virgin. I’m taking my time to make sure we get there safely. Because honey, once we get inside your apartment, ain’t nothing going to move slow. Okay?”

My face felt flushed, and my breath caught. “Okay.”

We pulled up in front of my apartment, and I gathered our bags of take-out food. Trent opened my door and helped me out of the truck. I stumbled and landed against his chest. Catching me by the arms, he smiled down into my face.

“Whoa, there. I got you.”

I pressed my lips to his. “Yes, you do.” I took his hand and followed him up the path to my front door.

I was pretty sure I’d left on a light in the tiny foyer when we’d left, but the windows were dark as I dug for my keys. An odd glow came from the direction of the living room.

“That’s funny. Did I leave on the television?” I turned the key in the lock, pushed open the door and froze in my tracks.

An enormous fir tree stood in the corner of my living room. It was covered in multi-colored lights, and a large star was on top.

“What . . .” I stepped inside. “Did you do this?”

Trent’s jaw was tight, and I realized he was nervous. He’d taken a chance, and he wasn’t sure how I was going to react. But he nodded.

“It’s just got lights on it. Emmy helped me hire a couple of kids to bring it over here tonight while we were at dinner, but we got back faster than I’d figured. Anyway, I thought maybe . . . in the boxes, there’s popcorn and string, and construction paper. I figured we could make our own decorations.” He brushed a hand over my shoulder. “Make it real. Make it ours. No one else, just you and me.”

A lump rose in my throat. “Oh, Trent.” I turned and slid my arms around his waist. “This is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me. I love it. Thank you.”

Relief spread over his face. “Seriously? You’re okay with it? You’re not just saying it?”

I laughed. “No, I’m serious.” I tightened my arms around him. “But before we string popcorn or cut out paper chains, I was thinking maybe I could unwrap a different kind of gift. You know . . . under the tree.”

A slow smile curved his lips. “I was hoping you might say that.” He bent his head down and crushed my mouth to his, his kiss aggressive as he stole my breath. I pressed against him, the tips of my breasts teasing his chest as I opened my mouth to deepen the kiss.

“Elizabeth . . .” Trent groaned my name. “God, I’ve been dreaming about this since the day we met. I’ve wanted you since then. I don’t want to . . . I want to take it slow. Savor it. But right now, the only thing I can think about is getting you naked and kissing every inch of your body.”

Joy bubbled up in my heart. “Merry Christmas to me,” I murmured. “I’m all over that plan.” I tugged off his suit jacket and went to work on the buttons of his dress shirt. When I had it undone, I pulled it out of his waistband and ran my hands over his chest. “God, I’ve wanted to touch you like this. When I’d see you picking up the trees, your muscles bulging—ooooh, baby.”

Trent grinned. “Really? You hid it well.”

“I tried to keep the drool to a minimum.” I reached for the button on his pants, but he covered my hand.

“Wait a second.” Bending, he scooped me into his arms and carried me to the Christmas tree, where he lay me down.

“Do you want me to take off my dress?” I reached behind me for the zipper.

“No. Leave it. I’ve been fantasizing all night about pushing it up—and finding . . . oh, damn, baby.” His eyes went wide. “You went commando.”

I unbuttoned his pants while he was distracted. “I was going to tell you while we were at dinner, but you pulled me out of there so fast, I didn’t have time.”

“If you’d told me any earlier, we wouldn’t have even stayed for appetizers.” His hands skimmed down my shoulders and tugged down the neckline of my dress, baring my breasts. “Elizabeth. You’re beautiful.”

His fingers teased one stiff pink peak as his mouth covered the other. A thrill of pure pleasure streaked through my body, and I arched my back, desperate for more of his touch. Slipping my fingers lower, I curled my fingers around him, stroking.

“Baby, if you keep that up, this is all going to be over fast.” His words were a gasp against my skin, making me shiver.

“We have all night.” I reached for his neck and pulled his face to mine, kissing him with abandon as I lifted my hips in invitation. “Fast works now. Slow can come later.”

“I just don’t—God, I can’t think when you touch me.” He closed his eyes. “I don’t want to mess this up. I’ve never—Elizabeth, this is the first time that sex—that it’s meant something. I don’t want you to think it doesn’t. It means something. You mean something to me.”

My eyes filled with unexpected tears. It wasn’t exactly a declaration of love, but I knew that for Trent, those words were as close as he could get right now. He cared for me. I didn’t doubt it. The fact that I was falling in love with him was something we could discuss later.

Right now, I only wanted him inside me.

“I know. I know it does. And you matter to me, too. I’m glad I’m spending Christmas with you. There’s no one I’d rather be with.” I traced my fingers down his length. “But right now, I’d really like you to find a condom and get the hell inside me before I combust from wanting you.”

As if my words had set him on fire, he kicked off his pants the rest of the way and fumbled in the pocket until he found the rubber. My fingers shook a little as I helped him roll it on, but I knew it was from desire, not doubt.

He slid into me, filling me with one long, easy stroke. My body was primed, ready, and I cried out as I rose to meet each thrust until the pleasure built to an inescapable height and shattered, pulsing through every part of my being. Trent growled my name and followed, his body stiffening as he emptied himself into me.

We lay for silent moments under the twinkling lights of the tree. Trent trailed a lazy hand down my back, his fingers light on my sensitive skin. Goose bumps broke out in the wake of his touch.

“You’re the best gift I’ve ever had underneath my Christmas tree.” He whispered the words just before he kissed me.

I cupped his face in my hand as his lips trailed down my neck. Turning my head, I caught his ear lobe between my teeth. “This is my favorite Christmas ever. Thank you for giving it to me.”

“Mmmm.” Trent pushed up on his elbows to look down into my face. “I have a question for you, Elizabeth Hudson.”

My heart thudded. “What’s that?”

He ran one finger down my neck and then back up to rub over my lips.

“What’re you doing New Years?”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Tawdra Kandle writes romance, in just about all its forms. She loves unlikely pairings, strong women, sexy guys, hot love scenes and just enough conflict to make it interesting. Her books run from YA paranormal romance through NA paranormal and contemporary romance to adult contemporary and paramystery romance. She lives in central Florida with a husband, kids, sweet pup and too many cats. And yeah, she rocks purple hair.

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If you love Tawdra’s books, become a Naughty Temptress! Join the group here for sneak peeks, advanced reader copies of future books, and other fun.

Trent and Elizabeth’s story will continue in Always My Own (The Always Love Trilogy Book 2), coming January 26, 2016.

And spend a little more time in Burton . . .

Always For You (The Always Love Trilogy Book 1)

The One Trilogy Box Set

LOVE WALKS IN

BY CHRIS KENISTON

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright 2015 Christine Baena

Cover Design: Rogenna Brewer

Editor: Megan McKeever

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, redistributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, print, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of Author.

Created with Vellum

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

More than anything I've written, this story was very important to me. In order to do justice to my characters and all children diagnosed with some form of Autism Spectrum Disorder, I had to seek out help.

A testimony to friendships surviving time and distance, I must thank Mary Summons for the brainstorming, Diane Borgia for having the same job as my hero, and Celeste Boglioli for stepping forward and putting me in contact with the perfect go-to person for this story—Nancy Green. I could not have asked for a better source of information. Constantly peppered with question upon question, Nancy never delayed in responding to my inquiries, and freely volunteered a wealth of data and details. This story truly could not have been written without her generous assistance.

I would also like to point out that local unified basketball team programs do exist and are highly successful. I would be remiss if I did not thank Brian McNeill, a young man who is a real world Adam. We need more patient and caring people like him in our lives. Best of all, it is here that I give my kudos to Kevin Green and his teammates for bringing home the Gold Medal in Unified Sports Experience Basketball from the 2015 Los Angeles Special Olympics World Games—Hooyah!

CHAPTER 1

"T  om, you would have loved living in this house." Seated at the café table nestled in the corner of her living room, Annette Deluca held the silver frame encasing her family's photo. She remembered the day in 3-D Technicolor. Adam's fifth birthday. Corralling her offspring for a photograph had taken more effort than organizing the entire party at the popular children's venue. What the picture didn't reveal was the near headlock it had taken for her to pin down their son for two minutes nor the gentle pressure with which her husband, Tom's, hands held their daughter in place. Yet somehow Tom's assistant had managed to coax a smile out of the two siblings, creating the perfect family picture. Damn how Annette missed that.

With the windows wide open, the wind carried the sound of the distant waves crashing ashore and dropped them beside her, opening another floodgate of memories. Summers by the beach. Winters diving in Hawaii or the Barrier Reef. Christmas in the mountains. They'd done it all before the children were born and then done it again as a family. "Do you have any idea how much I miss you?" she asked the man in the photo.

A gull swooping past the window caught her attention. Focusing on the broad wingspan as the bird glided away from the house and out to sea, she gave herself a mental shake. The last thing her late husband would want her to do is spend her days living in the past. "Time to get back to ringing in the season." This year she thought she'd follow the lead of advertisers on television and get the house all cheery with Christmas spirit now, instead of waiting for after Thanksgiving. Over the weekend, she and the kids would bring out the tree and spend some family time hanging the ornaments and tinsel, and maybe even stringing some popcorn—the way they did when Adam and Bethany were really young. Pushing herself upright, Annette set the frame on the shelf where it belonged. Surrounded by the wealth of family photos that helped keep the memories strong, she shoved aside the melancholy and opened another box of holiday decorations.

The first Christmas without Tom had been difficult. Thank heaven for Maggie. Annette’s household manager had become indispensable. Caring for the children day and night, taking on the role of mother, while Annette pushed her way through physical therapy and recovery. It was so hard to believe she'd survived that horrible crash. But she had with Maggie's help. And then there was the entire Everrett clan. All of them, and what seemed like half the navy's Special Forces, looked out for her and her children in those dark days after the plane crash that took Tom's life and left her fighting for hers.

And Lord bless Maile Everrett. Opening her home for the holidays had made the void caused by Tom's absence a little easier to bear. Annette and her kids had still felt the hurt, but most of their smiles had been genuine, and that was due to the warmhearted matriarch. And, of course, the Everrett family's ever-faithful German shepherd, Gunny, who had done as much for bringing back the spark to her son's life as Maile's grown son had.

"Wow, the water is perfect today." Maggie wrapped a beach towel around her, tucking in the corner as she crossed the threshold.

"This is Hawaii." Annette laughed. "The water is perfect every day."

"I know. But, after so many years living in L.A., I keep expecting the ocean to feel like an ice pond in Antarctica."

"Not going to happen." Prominently placing the antique Santa's sleigh and reindeer she'd retrieved from the box on the minimalist mantel, Annette shook her head at her friend.

The familiar sound of her cell carrier's ring tone played. She really needed to pick a better tune. Her phone always sounded like a television commercial for her provider. Glancing quickly at the screen, her heart gave a small stutter as the name of her son's school popped up. "Hello?"

"Mrs. Deluca, this is Harriett from the principal's office."

Her mind ran full speed ahead. All the horrible possibilities for a phone call from school tripped and shoved their way over the benign and more likely reasons. "Yes?"

"We've had a little … incident."

Okay. Incident is way better than accident, and Harriett's tone, while stern with a hint of frustration, gave no indication that Annette needed to be racing to the emergency room. "How little?"

"Adam has been in a fight."

"A what?" Her son didn't fight. The kid was a card-carrying member of Future Pacifists of America. Hug the trees and save the whales too. "Are you sure?"

"Excuse me?"

"Never mind. What happened?"

"I think we should discuss this in person."

"Very well. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Mrs. Deluca?"

"Yes?"

"Bring a clean shirt."

Clean shirt?

"And pants. Your son's have seen better days."

ANOTHER NUMBER CHANGED on the digital clock. Brian would be home in a few minutes. Sometimes Michael Becker wondered who attending a new school was more stressful on, him or his son. So far it was a toss-up. He'd hoped mainstreaming middle school in Hawaii would be easier on Brian than in the large Dade County public school system. All his son wanted was to be like other kids his age. To go to a regular school, have friends, be invited to parties. There was even talk of a girlfriend.

Mike scrubbed his hand down his face. Hawaii might be Paradise, but he wasn't holding out for miracles. Or maybe he was. Normal people didn't turn their entire world upside down if they weren't hoping for something.

Awake since four o'clock this morning for a conference call with L.A., Mike seriously doubted the wisdom of his choice to live in the Hawaii-Aleutian time zone. Working for a Fortune 500 company on a global IT project had its perks and problems. He could telecommute from the house and be home for Brian. On the downside Mike could be attached to his computer at all hours of the day and night seven days a week. Or the blasted phone. And if Singapore didn't have the numbers run for him in the next minute, they would just damn well have to wait for him to do his part. No way could he ignore Brian's arrival after school. For the last twelve years, routine had been critical in every aspect of his life. Even as a baby Brian didn't adapt to variations in the daily schedule. Karen had made it all look so easy. From sunrise to bedtime, everything ran like clockwork.

Now, as soon as Brian walked through the door, the well-planned and practiced system kicked into gear. To the minute. No room for the slightest deviation. Snack. Homework. TV. Homework. Mike pinched the bridge of his nose.

The last digit flipped on the clock as Mike and Brian's neighbor pulled in the driveway. "Bless her."

Not many people understood Brian's need for order and routine and schedules. Heaven forbid his ride home from school decided to stop at the grocery store for a gallon of milk or try a shortcut to save time. The slightest detour always spelled disaster. But his neighbor Liz got it. She picked up Brian at the exact same spot at the exact same time and drove home the exact same route, and, so far, Liz was the only thing about the new school and the new routine that was going well.

His work cell resting on the desk buzzed. Glancing down, Mike saw the long string of numbers—Singapore. Not good. Preferring to use chat or email, it wasn't normal for the offshore team to call. This could only mean trouble. Reluctantly he grabbed the phone. “Becker.”

“Good afternoon, Mike,” the caller began. Always frustrated by the formality of the greeting and the acknowledgment of the time difference, he replied with the standard, “And good morning to you.” After all, Singapore was eighteen hours ahead—already the next day. What he really wanted though was to hurry up this conversation—get to the point. The last thing he needed was a lengthy conversation with Brian about to walk in the door.

The sound of a car door slamming broke into his thoughts, followed by another, and Mike's head snapped up. Liz normally watched Brian walk to the door and waited for Mike to wave back. The routine didn't call for her to get out of the car and walk with Brian. Shit. With a quick “I need to go. Send me an email,” he cut short the call and dropped the phone.

Tempted to hurry outside to find out what happened, instead Mike bit his cheeks and waited for Brian to open the door as usual. The second Brian appeared in the doorway, Mike knew the slight change had been enough to throw his son off his game. Brian’s gaze remained on the floor, watching his feet as he moved farther into the house.

"Time for your snack. Would you like ice cream, an apple, or chips?" Mike hoped falling into the familiar repartee would be enough to get his son back on track.

Quietly Brian continued to the kitchen, his gaze still cast downward.

Before continuing with the cycle of asking three times, Mike leaned toward Liz and whispered, "Wait for me in the living room."

Liz nodded and, passing behind him, made her way to the other room. Much to Mike's relief, the remainder of the snack-time routine fell into place. Once he'd placed the apple slices on the table, Brian seemed to have recovered from the small shift.

Wiping his hands down the side of his slacks, Mike took a seat in the living room, drew in a fortifying breath, and hoped whatever Liz had to say wasn't going to turn their world upside down again. "What happened?"

"There was a fight at school."

"Fight?" Mike sprang to his feet. "Oh, my God."

He turned to bolt back into the kitchen, not sure how he could have missed signs of a physical encounter, but Liz grabbed his wrist. "Not Brian."

What did she mean? What was the point of disrupting everything to tell him someone else had a fight at school? "I don't understand."

"It looks like your son has a new champion."

CHAPTER 2

T  he sky-blue halls of the Kona Middle School normally gave Annette a sense of calm, but this afternoon they did little to ease the anxiety building with every step. Just the other day she'd read an article on delayed delinquent behavior in young teens after the death of a parent. Was this about that?

The short walk to the principal's office seemed interminable. The moment Annette turned the corner, her eyes fell on her son. Slumped in the last of a line of chairs along the office wall, Adam sat with his head tilted back, holding an ice pack to his face. The collar on his polo shirt hung awkwardly, and she could see dark smudges all over him from across the room. Not until she was directly in front of her son did she see the torn pants and the equally disheveled boy on the other side of him. "What happened?"

"It was his fault." Adam pointed a thumb at the other kid.

"Was not," an angry voice mumbled through a split lip.

As much as she hated to admit relief, Annette was fairly confident the dark smudges on her son's shirt could be attributed to the other kid's bloody lip. "I didn't ask whose fault it was. What happened?"

"Oh, good, you're here." Harriett came out from behind the front counter. "The principal is in his office. Do you want to take a minute for Adam to change his clothes?"

Annette had brought a shirt and pants, as requested, but she much preferred finding out what had happened than she was concerned about Adam's appearance. "No, let's face the music."

Harriett stepped to one side and waved Annette and Adam across the bullpen of office desks to the closed door of childhood dread. "Go right in. He's expecting you."

Annette rapped lightly on the door and then turned the knob.

"Come in." Ted Sparks was a jovial man with an easygoing grin. But not today. "Please take a seat."

Nerves still on edge, Annette eased into one of the chairs in front of the massive oak desk. Adam slumped into the seat beside her.

"We don't tolerate fighting." Fingers steepled in front of him, the principal shifted his gaze from Adam to her. "Normally turning to fisticuffs is an automatic suspension."

"Normally?" she asked cautiously.

"First offense is up to the principal's discretion." The man eyed Adam. "Do you have something to say in your defense?"

"No, sir."

"I see here"—the principal held up a single piece of paper—"that you're not in any classes with Eddie."

Eddie. Annette quickly ran through overheard conversations but didn't recognize the name.

"No, sir."

The stern-looking man glanced at Annette over the sheet of paper in his hand before turning back to Adam. "Does this have anything to do with Brian Becker?"

Adam's eyes widened just long enough for both Annette and the principal to realize he'd hit the nail on the head. But who was Brian Becker?

Adam straightened in his seat. "Brian wasn't part of the fight."

"I see." The usually cordial twinkle in Principal Ted's eyes gleamed once again, as he leaned back in his chair. "I think we can let this go with a warning. And perhaps an essay on problem resolution without the use of violence."

Adam's mouth drew into a thin line, but he nodded anyhow. "Thank you, sir."

On the way outside, Annette noticed the other boy, Eddie, had company. A big guy in jeans, a sweat-soaked work shirt, and what looked to be steel-tipped shoes sat scowling beside the kid. She had to wonder who would dole out the harsher punishment, the good-natured principal or the father who looked to be royally ticked off at missing work. She almost felt sorry for the kid.

Seat belt snapped, turning out of the parking lot, Annette uttered the first words spoken since leaving the principal's office. "Why did you give Eddie a split lip?"

Adam's mouth curled in a triumphant smile. "I did, didn't I?"

Men. "Answer the question."

Adam shifted in his seat, ran his hand along his jaw, and looked to the roof of the car as though expecting the answer to appear etched on the ceiling.

"Does it hurt?" She would put more ice on his chin once they got home.

"Nah." He dropped his hand to his side. "Eddie hits like a girl."

A startled chuckle erupted, and Annette didn't even try to hold it back. For a second she thought she could hear her husband laughing beside her. "Spill. What happened?"

"We've got a new kid in school."

She nodded, waiting for more.

"His name is Brian. He's smart in a weird sort of way."

"Weird?"

"Yeah. He remembers everything. I mean everything. In history class the teacher read a passage from one of the pages, then asked a question. Before anyone could raise their hand, Brian answered."

"Just called out the answer?"

Adam shook his head. "Mom, he recited back the entire page. It's almost scary. I don't have math with him, but I heard, when the class has to do calculations, he does them in his head. Fast. Really fast."

A myriad of possibilities played in her thoughts. The old cliché, a fine line between genius and insanity. Though her maternal gut told her this was more complicated than a weird smart kid. "So why did you have a fight with this Eddie character?"

"He's an obnoxious ass—"

"Adam."

"Well, he is. He thinks his shit doesn't stink."

The desire to get to the bottom of the situation won out over the urge to reprove her son's colorful vocabulary. She bit her tongue and waited.

"Him and all his friends are always picking on kids. They rule the lunchroom. The minute one of the volunteers isn't looking, Eddie's knocking over someone's tray or tripping a kid walking by."

"Picks on those he's intimidated by."

"No." Adam shook his head vehemently. "He picks mostly on the geeks."

"The smart geeks. I'm guessing he's not the best student."

Adam shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. But he and his friends keep taunting this kid."

"How?"

"Stupid stuff. Someone said the other day how Eddie told Brian to go kiss the elevator. And he did. And that he seemed happy, like he thought it would make him Eddie's friend."

"You didn't see this?"

Brian shook his head. "And yesterday it was cleaning spit, but today I was in the hall, when I heard Eddie and his friends tell Brian to kiss Katie Russo."

Uh-oh. "Did he?"

Adam nodded. "They told him that she really liked him. Wanted to be his girlfriend. She was nearby, and Eddie called her over. Everyone was hurrying to get to class before the bell rang, and I couldn't get across the hall fast enough to stop him."

The way her son glanced up at her, anger slipping behind raw pain, it took all her restraint not to pull him into a hug and tell him … what? Try not to let the assholes of the world get to you.

"Brian kissed her. Hard. Almost knocked her into the locker. She smacked him across the face and stormed off. The guys just stood there laughing. By the time I got close, Brian had his hands on his ears and was staring at his shoes." He turned fully to face his mother. "I couldn't believe they'd do that to someone who obviously couldn't defend himself, so I told Eddie to keep his stupid jokes to himself."

Annette could see the entire scene drawing out now. The same ageless scenario happened in schools everywhere since the dawn of time. "Who's going to make him?"

Adam nodded. "I got in his face and said I would."

"And he what? Shoved you? Hit you?"

"Something like that." Adam leaned back in his seat, facing forward. "I had to do it, Mom. I had to."

How could she tell her son that violence wasn't the answer when everything in her wanted to drive to this Eddie's house and knock some sense into his parents for raising a bully? "Your principal is right. Violence is never an answer." But neither was sitting back and doing nothing.

RIGHT NOW ANNETTE would give anything for the days when all it took to make her kids stop hurting was to kiss the boo-boo. Unsure of where to start, she picked up the phone and called the one person most likely to have the answers.

A teacher at the local high school, Emily was another member of the Everrett clan. People Annette had come to count on since moving to Kona. "Hello?"

"Hey, Em. It's Annette Deluca."

"Gee, this is a nice surprise. What's up?"

"Honestly I'm looking for some answers."

"If I've got 'em, I'm willing to share."

Annette could hear Emily's smile through the phone. "Adam ran into a little trouble at school today."

"What kind of trouble?" A sharp edge instantly replaced her earlier easy tone.

"He got into a fight with a school bully."

"There is a lot of enlightenment on school bullying. I can recommend several sites for you to go to, if Adam is a target. They're—"

"No. He's not the target."

Emily didn't respond.

"He was defending another kid."

"Okay. That's a new excuse for fighting."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"I don't mean to make it sound like there are never any children who stand up for the bullied. I just don't hear about it very often."

"Probably like the news. We hardly ever hear about the good deeds, but we hear all about the bad ones."

"I suppose. What do you need from me?"

"I want to help, but I don't know how. Adam says the boy is 'weird smart.'" Annette ran through the list of traits Adam had given her.

"I'm not an expert on this, but my first thought is the kid's on the autism spectrum. Most likely high functioning or he wouldn't be mainstreamed. And obviously very smart academically, but I'm guessing he doesn't really know what to do with that page of information he recited."

"I don't know."

"Any chance you can talk to the parents? Find out more about what's going on?"

"I thought about that, but I wanted to get some firsthand info."

"All I know is structure is crucial for these kids. They are each so different. It's not a disease, like diabetes, with a list of specific symptoms. There are red flags, but nothing is set in stone. If you've met one autistic child, you've met one autistic child. Think of it as meeting a five-foot-tall brown-haired boy with brown eyes and an IQ of 160. Nothing else about him will be the same as the next five-foot-tall brown-haired boy with brown eyes and a 160 IQ. Nor the next. That's part of what makes this such a challenging disorder. There are no rules. No standards. No two children will ever be exactly alike. It's a spectrum. A scale. The variations are limitless."

"What is the school doing for these kids?"

"Again, every child is different. Some more sensitive than others. Literally. Depending on the situation a teacher or fellow student can be assigned to shadow the child. Follow them from a distance, make sure he doesn't get himself into difficulties he's incapable of escaping."

"Like a bully."

"Like a bully. Though you may want to thank your lucky stars if this boy is not on social media. Nowadays that's the larger threat. The name-calling and singling out of children in school carries over into social media at home. The victim has no escape. No safe haven. Parents don't often realize what is going on. Everyone grew up with expressions like 'sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me.' But they do. And it's become even more vicious in recent years."

"So what do I do?"

"First you need to let the school know exactly what's been going on. Teachers can't help if they don't see the poor behavior and if the kids don't tell them. Then you should probably talk to the young boy's family. Find out if he is, indeed, autistic or if there's some other issue involved. After that, enlightening the parents of the bully would be a good idea. Sometimes these kids take after their parents. They're bullied or insecure at home. I hate to keep spitting clichés at you, but children learn what they see. On the other hand, I've known some of the nicest parents who did everything right and were completely aghast at what their son or daughter did to other children at school. Talking to the bullied boy's parents is the best way to move forward. At least then Adam and the school will know what they're up against." Emily paused. "And, off the record, Adam did good. I'm proud of him for standing up for what's right."

"I am too." Annette wished Tom could be here to see his son, already behaving like a man. After a few polite words about the weather and the upcoming winter break and its holiday dinners at Emily's mom's, Annette hung up with a new mission. Find and speak to Brian's parents.

CHAPTER 3

A  multitude of physicians and therapists through the years had told Michael and Karen that Brian's screen time needed to be held to a minimum if they wanted to improve his socialization skills. At an early age Brian could spend hours happily on a computer tablet, playing word and counting games far above his age level. When neighborhood children were babbling and interacting, but Brian remained focused in his own world, Karen knew something wasn't right.

Today, however, seemed to call for a bending of the rules and letting Brian indulge in soothing his mind with a favorite computer game. Deep down, Mike still hoped one day Brian would use that computerlike brain for something amazing, like finding a cure for cancer or world famine, but Mike would gladly settle for his son having a happy life. Mike’s glance shifted to the photograph on his desk. When Karen had succumbed to a burst aneurysm, he'd clung to the good memories and pushed one foot in front of the other, expecting someday he wouldn't miss her so damn much. "You always made it look so easy."

The sound of his cell chiming in his pocket had him setting down the beloved photo of Karen and Brian, and answering, "Becker."

"Hello, Mr. Becker. My name is Annette Deluca."

The name didn't ring any bells. Was she the homeroom monitor? Or whatever they called the mom who organized all the parents nowadays. "Hello."

"Am I catching you at a bad time?"

His gaze shot past his office door to the living room, where Brian smiled over his iPad. Was there ever a good time? "This is fine. How may I help you?"

"My son, Adam, got into a fight at school today."

Mike's spine stiffened. If this woman thought calling to apologize for her child's cruel behavior ...

"Normally I don't approve of violence as a response to a negative situation, but, as much as I think that other boy deserved a good throttle, I'd like to avoid putting our boys through this again."

Our boys? Karen's voice echoed in the back of his mind. "Look at our boy, Mike. He's so smart."

"I'm sorry." Mike shook his head in an effort to clear his mind. If this wasn't the bully's mother, then she must be … "What exactly are we talking about?"

"Oh, excuse me. I thought you knew. My son, Adam, got in a fight with a bully at school for telling your son to kiss a girl."

Kiss a girl? His neighbor had only relayed what little information her daughter had shared with her after school. All he really knew was that Brian had been picked on again, and a boy from another class came to his defense. A girl would certainly be an easy button to push for Brian. Mike had so hoped mainstreaming here in Hawaii would be different. "I was planning to call the school about this first thing in the morning."

"I know it's short notice, but, if you have a few minutes, perhaps we could meet somewhere and discuss what happened."

"That won't really be necessary. I'm sure the school—"

"Mr. Becker, I'll be honest. This is the first difficult situation involving Adam that I've had to face on my own, and I would prefer to be better informed, before I decide how to deal with my son."

And how could he say no to a request like that? Hadn't he wished a hundred times in the last three years that he could have someone to talk to about Brian? "I can't leave Brian alone. Would you be willing to come to our home?"

"Of course."

For the next hour Mike did his best to finish up the work in front of him. Despite his mind's eagerness to veer off path and consider Annette Deluca, her son, and this new mess, the demands of Mike’s job didn't allow him that luxury. By the time the doorbell rang, he'd pretty much given up on making any progress on either front.

Taking two seconds to glance into Brian's room and make sure he was settled in for the night, Mike proceeded to the front entryway and resisted the urge to straighten his collar.

At the other side of the door stood a dark-haired petite woman with big round eyes and a nervous smile. "Michael?"

"Yes." He stepped aside and extended a hand toward the living room. "Please come in."

"Thank you."

Mike did his best not to watch the shift of her hips. Why was he even looking? He had no interest in women. Not anymore.

ANNETTE DID her best not to fidget. There was no reason for her to be so nervous, but for some reason, her stomach was doing somersaults and back-springs. Michael Becker stood across from her by the armchair, and she wondered how long before his wife joined them.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"No, thank you." Where to begin? "Is your wife not home?"

The already grim expression on the man's face intensified. "No." He took a seat. "Karen's been gone for almost three years."

Gone? She didn't even want to contemplate what he meant. Today was difficult enough. "How much do you know about what happened at school this afternoon?"

"According to my neighbor's daughter, a boy named Eddie has been teasing my son."

She blew out a breath and bobbed her head. "I'd say it's more than just teasing. Eddie is apparently the class bully. He likes to torment the not-so-popular, and now he's targeting your son."

Michael's lips thinned, and his brow creased.

"As I mentioned on the phone, my son, Adam, saw Eddie talk your son into kissing a girl. Adam was too late to stop it, but he fought the boy for making fun of Brian."

Michael's throat bobbed. "I only knew the gist of the situation before your call."

"I spent my afternoon in the principal's office." Annette wished she'd accepted his offer of a drink; it would have given her hands something to do. "I'd like to know more about Brian."

"He's autistic. High functioning. But socialization is not something that comes easy for him."

That lined up with what Emily had told her. "That possibility has been suggested."

Casually he leaned forward, his joined hands resting on his knees. "Do you know anyone on the autism spectrum?"

She shook her head.

"Brian's a sweet, warm, wonderful boy. And smart as a whip. But he doesn't understand normal social cues."

He blew out a deep sigh that Annette suspected represented more than a long day. She had a feeling she was listening to years of exhaustion and future anticipations all wrapped up in a single breath.

"Routine is very important," he continued. "As long as we don't change the familiar, he's a joy to be around."

For a moment she saw the gleam of a proud parent in his eyes.

"But I'll admit, I don't know what to do about this." His pleading eyes lifted and met hers. "Are you sure I can't get you something to drink? Juice? Coffee? Tea?"

"A cup of tea would be nice."

"Good." He pushed to his feet. "One cup of tea coming right up."

Her gaze followed his steps across the room. From where she sat, she could see Michael moving about the kitchen. He opened cabinet doors and pulled out cups, saucers. Next he tugged at the drawers and retrieved spoons. A kettle simmered on the stove.

"Do you have a flavor preference?" He popped his head out the doorway.

Taking that as her cue to join him, she stood. "What are my choices?"

In the kitchen Michael held out a large tin of specialty teas. "I'm rather boring and always drink black tea. Karen liked fruity flavors."

Annette scanned the choices and pointed at the corner package. "I'm rather fond of Earl Grey."

"Earl Grey it is."

Easing farther into the room, she gestured toward the kitchen table. "Do you mind?"

"Make yourself at home."

Waiting for the kettle to boil, she slipped into the nearest chair. "My son and I have had a long talk."

Michael nodded.

"I've explained to him that violence is never the answer." The memory of her son's grin at giving Eddie a split lip made her smile. "I don't think he believes me completely."

The frown on Michael's face lifted, replaced by a lazy smile.

He had a nice smile.

"I don't think we ever truly get over the need to occasionally beat the sh … to knock sense into someone who rightly deserves it."

"That may be, but punching everyone we think deserves it isn't the answer either."

Michael's smile slipped, and he shook his head. "No. No, it's not."

"I'll be talking with the school tomorrow, but Adam and I have come up with a plan of sorts."

"Really?" The kettle whistled, and he turned off the stove.

She nodded her head. "Adam wants to be Brian's study buddy. At least that's the name we've given it. If you agree, we could ask the school to transfer Brian into more classes with Adam."

"That could be a problem." He filled the cups. "Remember what I said about routine being important? Brian only needs to do something once for it to become the standard. By now he's gotten used to his teachers, the students. He probably knows how many steps there are between each classroom."

"Hmm. I didn't realize. The idea is for Adam to keep an eye on Brian."

"Milk or sugar?"

Annette shook her head.

Michael set the cup on the table and took a seat across from her. The way he gazed into the cup, as he dipped the teabag in and out, made her wish she could read minds.

"And," Annette continued, "Adam's hoping to uncover something they might have in common. A foundation of sorts for building a friendship."

"It would be nice for Brian to have a friend." He smiled.

She blew on the hot liquid. "That's what we thought."

"I'm just concerned the solution may be more difficult for him than the problem."

"I hope not." She took a brief sip. "Adam has given this a lot of thought. Does Brian like sports?"

"A little. Mostly it's keeping track of statistics. But, yes." Mike took a long moment to study her. "I am starting to believe Adam may be an answer to prayer."

"I hope so. I, on the other hand"—she bit back a smile—"will be Eddie's worse nightmare."

CHAPTER 4

A  rash of interruptions had filled Annette's morning. Early Christmas shopping had been taken off her to-do list, and if her phone rang one more time, she was going to throw the thing into the Pacific Ocean. Lunchtime for Adam and Brian started in a few minutes. Running late, she had just enough time to get her car into a parking space, hurry into the building, and sign in at the office.

The school's policy of allowing parents to lunch with their children made her plans much easier. As small children in elementary school, having Mom or Pop in for lunch was always seen as a big treat. Though few preteens held that same enthusiasm for their mothers eating lunch with them, under the circumstances, Adam was more than glad to have Annette tag along for a little while.

She'd barely set foot in the cafeteria when she spotted the first problem. The split-lip kid was making his way to the table where Adam, his friend Cory—who wanted to help too—and Brian were seated. Though he looked a little stiff, there was nothing that would have led her to believe that Brian was any different than any other boy in class. If she picked up her pace, she just might beat Eddie there. Maybe.

"Slumming Deluca?" The tough kid almost sneered.

Annette reached her son's table just in time to hear Split Lip's remark. "Eddie. How nice to see you. Will you be joining us for lunch?"

MIKE WIPED DOWN CLEAN COUNTERTOPS. He'd already emptied the trash in every room and hauled it out back. He'd also taken the microfiber mop and dusted the floors. It was his way of productively pacing until Annette came by after lunch to report. Not even Brian's first day of school had left Mike this nervous and unsettled.

Which begged a totally new question. Was it Brian's day or Annette's impending visit that had Mike prowling like an alley cat? Tensing in place, he looked up and out the window, taking in the driveway and steadily traveled street. The compromise for wanting an oceanfront home was having a main drag at his front door. Not that a main drag in a place like Kona was ever that busy. And letting his mind wander off about real estate didn't change the truth of why he was nervous.

He and Karen had been high school sweethearts. She'd graduated and gone on to Florida State; he'd ventured farther away and attended Stanford. By the end of his sophomore year, rather than grow apart, he'd concluded Karen was the only girl for him. And, thank the Lord, she'd decided the same thing. Graduation was in May and the wedding in June. He'd be a liar if he said he'd never noticed a pretty woman. After all, being married didn't mean he'd lost his eyesight. But none appealed to him. Not even after Karen's death. Well-intended friends had eventually introduced him to a parade of attractive women, who should have had any normal red-blooded American male eager to return to the dating game. But he still wasn't interested. Not even a little. Until now. This woman most definitely qualified as interesting.

A midsize SUV turned into his drive, and, eager to learn about the lunchtime experiment, he had to stop himself from running for the door. Curiosity won out over patience, and, instead of casually walking to the entryway, he trotted from the kitchen.

Pulling the door open wide, he waited until Annette was within earshot. "How did it go?"

"Good." She picked up her pace, until she reached the stoop. "Really good."

While his mind had been doing a song and dance only a few minutes ago about the subject of Annette, right now all he wanted to know about was his son. "I made lemonade. Why don't we grab a couple of glasses and head out to the lanai."

Annette dipped her chin in agreement and followed him to the kitchen. "First of all, I just want to say that, had I not known Brian was autistic, I'm not sure I would have figured it out on my own."

Mike handed her a glass and started toward the patio doors. "How is that?"

"Well, I think I would have labeled him as shy. Probably introverted too."

Mike couldn't argue with her. He and Karen had thought that same thing when Brian was a toddler.

"For instance, whenever Adam or Cory—"

"Cory?"

"Adam's best friend."

Best friend. Mike hadn't considered that Adam would have more friends who would want to get involved with Brian. Mike had just assumed Adam was some sort of do-good loner. Maybe one of the brainiacs.

"Anyhow, whenever the boys asked Brian a question, he'd look up and answer, like any other kid. Then I noticed that anytime Adam or Cory spoke to Brian, they always said his name first. I realized they wanted to make sure they had Brian's full attention."

Mike nodded. He often had to step in front of the computer or TV, if he wanted information from his son.

"And that's when I realized the methodical way Brian eats his food."

"It's all part of his routine. When he was little, his hotdogs had to have a squiggly line of mustard in just the right pattern, or he'd have a bit of a meltdown."

Annette's brow crinkled in thought.

She'd done that a few times last night while explaining her plan to him, and it looked just as cute on her this afternoon as it had yesterday.

"After everything you explained to me about the importance of his routine, I was a bit concerned Brian was going to have a hard time at lunch with the three of us joining him. But I was really pleased."

Now Mike was able to blow out the last bit of breath trapped at the base of his lungs waiting for good news. For years he'd been told that, sometimes around puberty, situations improved for autistic children. Change would no longer be such a horrible thing. Reactions to breaks in routine less exhausting. He'd been hoping Brian would be one of those kids. Now he had a solid reason to believe this might just be the case for his son.

"Eddie, on the other hand, that kid is a real piece of work."

Mike's spine stiffened. He should have known something would go wrong.

"He is nothing but a big bully. My son warned me, and, brother, was he right."

"What did Eddie do?"

"To the boys, nothing. But when I invited him to join us at the table—"

"You invited him to what?"

"Oh." She shrugged. "When I reached the table, Eddie was all set to pick on Adam for who-knows-what, but he didn't quite know what to make of me showing up."

Not much made Mike want to smile nowadays, but picturing petite Annette making nice with a middle-school bully probably as tall as she was made him want to grin from ear to ear. "I think I would have liked to have seen that."

"It was quite the sight. The kid's eyes rounded like a pair of golf balls, and he shook his head so hard it might have been at risk of rolling off his shoulders. Somehow he managed to mumble no. My son and Cory quietly snickered to themselves. Brian's expression was unchanged."

"I'm not surprised. That's exactly the sort of thing that flies over his head."

"Of course." She nodded before continuing. "I brought takeout for Adam and Cory, as you told me changing Brian's lunch would not be a treat for him but more of an upset. We talked for a bit about the boys' morning, and, while they chatted with each other, I kept an eye on Eddie across the room. I just knew if the parent volunteers hadn't stopped him from tormenting kids before, having me in the cafeteria now wasn't going to change that. Sure enough, somewhere between the conversation of tonight's basketball game and history homework, I noticed Eddie paying way too much attention to the table of girls to his right.

"Marsha Fitzsimmons is a sweet girl. Definitely shy and quiet, and probably one of the most intelligent children in Adam's grade. She and her smart friends would be easy targets for a bully. Rather than wait for the inevitable, I excused myself from our table and circled my way around the room, coming up behind Eddie and his friends, so they wouldn't know I was still watching. As the girls rose from the table, Eddie's big sneakered foot inched its way farther away from his seat. If I didn't know firsthand how much tripping those girls would not only embarrass them but prick at their emotional well-being, I would have laughed at Eddie's lack of imagination."

"You were teased in school?" The sudden snap of anger at her disclosure surprised him.

"Not me. My daughter. She's very pretty and graceful now, but, at the boy's age she had braces and wore glasses and was smart."

"Making her the perfect target for bullies."

"Not bullies. Just mean girls. Every school has them. Like bullies, they're a fact of life. One I told my daughter to ignore. That it would pass."

"And you were right."

She nodded slowly, a tiny crease forming between her brows. "But she shouldn't have to put up with the hurt. I should have done something then. I think it will always bother me that I didn't."

He didn't quite know what to say to that. How to respond. Karen would have had the right words, but, saving him from saying the wrong thing, Annette shrugged and pulled up a smile, shook off the emotional moment, bringing them back to lunchtime today.

"I waited until Marsha was little more than two feet away from him, then I came around and slid into the space beside him. Even pushed his foot over with mine, before sitting. Just a subtle show that I knew what he was up to."

"What did he do?" Suddenly visions of a growling hormonal pubescent teen shoving back had Mike wishing to hell he could be the one to spend lunches with his son instead of Annette.

"Gaped like a landed trout." She chuckled. "I know I shouldn't find so much pleasure in putting the kid in his place, but it was really nice. Same thing when his pimply-faced friend laughed at him. I moved over and sat next to the snickering kid. I'd have sidled up to every kid at the table, if they'd continued making fun of their own friends. When I informed them that I'd see them tomorrow, they all looked absolutely horrified."

"So, in an odd sort of way, you stood up for Eddie too."

That cute little frown was back. "I hadn't thought of it that way. But someone has to teach these kids to treat each other with respect."

Mike set his drink on the small glass table beside him on the lanai. "It'll take more than a lunch or two to retrain bullies."

"I'm not convinced they're that bad. Thoughtless, yes. A little cruel, maybe. But mostly I suspect their bad behavior is overcompensation. Time will tell. And I've got all year, if that's what it takes."

"I can't ask that of you."

"You're not. I want to do this. Besides, even if Eddie can't be truly reformed, I doubt it will take more than a few lunch visits to at least curb his behavior with Brian." She glanced away from Mike and turned her attention from one side of the sweeping windows to the other, taking in the broad view as though just now noticing they were on the ocean. "This is lovely."

"Thank you. Growing up in Florida, I've always loved the water. I've been blessed with a good career, even if it does eat up most of my waking hours. At least I can provide a good home for my family … my son."

Her expression softened. "You mentioned your wife has been gone … was it three years?"

"Yes." Even after all this time, the too-familiar taste of hurt and anger swilled around his words. "I left for work in the morning the same way I did every day. Around noon I got a phone call from the police. Karen had been battling a headache the night before, and it hadn't gone away by breakfast. She'd collapsed at the grocery store. Aneurysm."

"I'm so sorry." Her hand lifted to him. Then halfway there, she snapped it back to her side.

An odd pang of loss kicked at him. It made no sense. He'd just met this woman and had no idea how comforting her touch could or would be, and yet he really wished she'd not pulled back. "Are you in a hurry?"

With a question in her eyes, she slowly shook her head.

"Up for a walk?"

"Don't you have to work?"

“The servers went down about ten minutes ago for maintenance.” Living in a different time zone from the teams stuck running backups in the middle of the night did have its perks.

A smile took over her face. "I love walking on the beach. It's more fun with company."

Funny, he'd always thought that too.

CHAPTER 5

T  he closer to the shoreline Annette got, the more the softer black Kona sand shifted beneath her shoes. Not caring about being polite or proper, she leaned over and slid her foot out of one sandal, then the other. This was Hawaii after all, Hang Loose country.

In a pair of well-worn deck shoes, Michael Becker fell in step beside her, seemingly unconcerned with the sand. "In the months we've lived here, I'm still surprised to step outside and not see bright white sand."

Southern California had plenty of shoreline, but nothing she'd describe as bright or white. Except maybe Carmel. "Where did you used to live?"

"Florida. Key Biscayne."

"Aah. Land of the Eastern Retiree. How do they refer to it? … Oh, yeah. Southern Brooklyn."

Michael chuckled. "Some places do feel more like New York than Florida."

"Do you miss it?"

"Not really." Studying the horizon, he let a lazy smile appear. "Maybe a good Cuban sandwich. Or a conch fritter."

"Conch fritter. Didn't realize they were that easy to find north of the Florida Keys."

"Oh, yeah. They're all over south Florida, but the best are found in Key West.”

"You get to Key West often?"

"It was a favorite vacation spot. No tedious plane rides for Brian but the feel of a distant trip." He turned to glance at her and smiled. "As long as you like the bohemian tourist feel."

"There is that." She liked his smile but got the impression he didn't do it often.

"Which part is most appealing? Bohemia or wall-to-wall tourists?"

She weaved close enough to the water for the foamy edges to wash over her toes. "Can I vote for conch fritters?"

"Absolutely." His gaze settled on some distant point. "What happened to Adam's father?"

The familiar sense of loss pricked her chest. Though less forcefully now. The often-asked question no longer carried the emotional impact of even a few short months ago. "A plane crash." From the corner of her eye she thought she saw Mike wince.

"I know the words don't help, but I am sorry for your loss." He slipped his hands into his pockets. "They say it gets easier."

"It's been almost two years. I'm still waiting."

He nodded.

She knew there wasn't much he could say. And she certainly didn't want this to turn into a pity party. "I'd like to hear what Brian has to say about today. Will you call me and let me know?"

"I will, but I can do better than that. Wednesday is pizza night. We eat at Carlo's. Why don't you and Adam join us for dinner?"

An unexpected jolt of raw excitement took her by surprise. "I'll check with Adam and Bethany."

Michael slowed his pace. "Bethany?"

"My daughter. Who, if I'm not mistaken, is going to explain to me in dramatic detail why having dinner with her younger brother and his new friend is not the way she wants to spend her evening."

"Oh, well. I certainly—"

"No, no. Hear me out." She raised her hand at him. "The excruciatingly long dissertation will most likely be followed by a surprisingly brief outline of appropriate plans for her that will undoubtedly not include her mother or her brother."

From the confused expression on Michael's face, Annette was willing to bet the guy didn't have any sisters.

"Too much information?" she asked.

"No. Sorry. I'd always thought it would have been nice if Karen and I had had more children, but now"—a sly smile teased at one side of his mouth—"maybe Mother Nature knew better."

"Maybe I'm as guilty as my daughter of overdramatization. I can't imagine life without her. She's a really great young woman."

"I'm sure she is." Michael nodded, lifted his wrist and, glancing off to his left, then his right, he turned. "We should start back. I didn't realize how far we'd walked."

Annette wasn't completely sure where they were, but she couldn't see his house anymore. "Wow. Good plan." She remained on the side by the water's edge. It had been a while since she'd taken the time to walk the shore. Too long.

"Have you always lived in Hawaii?" Michael asked.

"Almost two years. This is an easier place to raise a family than L.A."

"That's what I thought." He hefted one shoulder in a casual shrug. "Not about L.A., but easier than the Miami area."

"How's it working out for you?"

Michael smiled down at her. "Better now."

And darned if that twinge of raw excitement didn't stir again. Was he flirting with her? Or was she reading too much into the single comment? After all, who wouldn't be better living in Kona? Of course. That was it. Life was simply better in Hawaii. Besides, if he were flirting, what the heck would she do about it?

KEEPING his hands in his pockets was the only way Mike could think of to stop from reaching out and touching Annette. The urge to hold her hand and kick through the waves with her was growing stronger with every step. When the words "plane crash" had slipped from her lips, the only thing he could think of was pulling her against him and cocooning her in his arms to keep her safe from any more hurt. Not that he could protect her or anyone else from the challenges life dished out. He'd tried that, and it hadn't worked out so well. So he shoved his hands into his pockets and kept them there.

The truth of the matter was he didn't come close to understanding what was going on at the moment. Quite frankly he didn't trust himself. Was he attracted to Annette Deluca because she was a beautiful, smart, funny, sensitive woman? Or was he just infatuated with the only person who had stepped up to protect and help his son in ways he couldn’t? He might have been able to carve out an hour or so of time to evaluate his son's circumstances, but there was no way he could make lunchtime at school part of his everyday routine. And he certainly wouldn't have infused himself into Eddie the bully's space.

He swallowed a laugh. This woman might have been physically petite, but she was proving to be a real pistol. Which made him want to get to know her better. Much better. Not that he could get too close. He honestly didn't think he was up to a relationship, and, even if by some strange chance he were, Annette had lost her husband less than two years ago. From the way her gaze softened with every mention of Mr. Annette Deluca, he'd be willing to bet a year's salary that she was a woman who had been very much in love with her husband. The lucky bastard.

"My neighbor, Liz, owns a boutique in town. Her daughter is a year ahead of Brian, so it was pretty convenient for her to pick up both kids. She's been terrific about Brian's idiosyncrasies. Without fail Liz picks up both kids at exactly the same time every day. We lead a very routine life. On Wednesdays we leave for dinner at exactly five thirty. I park in the far corner of the lot, where I can always find a space quickly. The manager figured out, after only a few weeks, that Brian was a creature of habit, and now he reserves the same table for us."

"That's very nice of him."

He nodded. "I'd hoped life in a smaller, more relaxed town would be easier for us, but I never anticipated just how friendly everyone would be. It's been an unexpected blessing." Finding a support circle to match what his wife had developed in Florida had been a major concern for him and one of the biggest negatives to this entire move. Now he felt rather foolish for ever having worried. "If you don't mind, it will be easier on Brian if you would meet us at the restaurant."

Nodding, she gave him a sweet smile. Not a polite one but sincere reassurance. "That will be just fine."

Just ahead he could see the cluster of houses, announcing their return. A small part of him wished they could ignore his house and keep walking. "And here we are."

Single file they turned into his yard, then into his house. Neither said a word, an easy silence nestling around them. At the front door he faced Annette, his hands still safely in his pockets. "Thank you again."

"My pleasure. Really."

Having a purpose, he dared to bring his right hand out in the open and reached for the doorknob. Stepping aside, he held open the door. "See you tonight."

"Five thirty." Still smiling, she wiggled her fingers in a cute good-bye wave.

He kept an eye on her until her car backed out of the driveway and disappeared down the road. Five thirty couldn't come fast enough.

BILLY EVERRETT LOOKED up from behind his desk at the dive shop. "Annette. What a nice surprise." He pushed to his feet.

"Don't get up on my account." She gestured for him to retake his seat. "I was on my way home and had an idea I wanted to follow through with you."

"Shoot." Despite her waving him off, Billy remained standing until she'd taken a seat. She didn't know if it was his military training or Maile Everrett's upbringing, but Billy never ceased to amaze her. The same could be said for Nick, Doug, and the other fellows she'd met through the dive shop. Maybe the answer wasn't one or the other but a little of both.

"I've recently come to know a young autistic boy."

"The one you spoke to Emily about?"

Annette nodded. "Word sure gets around fast."

"It's a small island." Billy smiled. "And you got my sister thinking too."

"I did?"

He bobbed his head. "Yes, but let's see what you have on your mind first."

"I know you guys work with wounded warriors. Do special group dives, efforts to help with PTSD, and other issues."

Billy nodded again.

"Do you think you could develop some sort of program for autistic kids?"

The way Billy's eyes widened, she had a feeling whatever she'd said hadn't been a good idea.

"I don't know enough about it, but I'm not sure thirty feet underwater is a good place to find out if it's a bad idea." Leaning over his desk, he folded his hands. "Maybe something in the dive pool might work though. I'd have to do some research. And talk to my sister."

"Fair enough." She hoped something could be done. Adam loved anything to do with the water, and sharing that with Brian could be another bridge for the young man. "What did Emily have to say?"

"Not very much. We were at Mom's for dinner last night. At some point the conversation came around to her students this year and your conversation about a new boy at the junior high." He snapped his fingers. "Which reminds me. Mom wants you to find out what the boy's favorite cookies are."

Annette almost laughed out loud. The only thing surprising about Billy's comment was that Maile hadn't already found out the answer for herself. That woman had a way of knowing everything. "I'll see what I can do. Now, you were saying?"

"At the mention of possible autism, Doug asked if there were any sports programs in the school district for special needs children."

"Like Special Olympics?"

"Maybe. But I think he was referring to smaller school programs. Emily was going to get more info on one of the high school programs."

And from what Annette had learned about the Everrett family and their friends, if there was a way for them to be involved, they soon would be. Her heart still swelled with appreciation when she thought back to the time after the plane crash. Trapped in a broken body in a Los Angeles intensive care unit, she could not care for her children. Never mind uncover the true cause of the plane crash that killed her husband and almost killed her.

But Billy and his friends had quickly learned that the crash had been no accident. And, more importantly, that Adam and Bethany could be in danger. Doug, Jim, and the others from Billy's former EOD team had come running when Billy said he needed help protecting her children and Maggie, the woman who had been more like family than a mere household manager. Heck, Jim had come days before his wedding, ticking off his then fiancée. Annette bit back a smile. Yep, if the closest thing to family she had here got involved in the special needs community, Michael and Brian Becker were about to learn that moving to Kona was the best thing to happen to them since Maile Everrett's coconut fritters.

CHAPTER 6

O ne of the nice things about Carlo's was that, in a large nook at the back of the restaurant, the owners had installed a game area to entertain the children as their parents finished their meals. The first time Mike had noticed that section, he'd been concerned the noise would be off-putting to his son, but, focusing on his game of choice, Brian was almost oblivious to all the sounds surrounding him. "I have to admit, I'm surprised."

Annette swallowed her last bite of pizza. "At what?"

"How easy tonight has turned out."

"In what way?"

"When Brian was a baby, my wife arranged playdates. Mostly mother-and-toddler events. As he grew older, it became more challenging."

"I can imagine."

He bit back the urge to ask, Can you? In less than a day it was impossible for a bystander to understand the ordinary challenges faced by the parent of an autistic child. Hell, he'd lived in the same house with an autistic child for years and not until Karen died had he discovered just how much he hadn't realized. "I could be reading this wrong, but it looks like Brian and Adam are friends."

Her face lit up. "You're not. They are. So what did Brian have to say about school?"

"More than I expected. Nothing terribly revealing. Social cognition is not my son's strength. He takes everything at face value. No room for nuance or socially understood undertones. But I know that Brian is in class with Adam and that Adam likes school. Adam is friends with Cory. Adam is five foot two inches. Brian mentioned that several times. I suspect that might have something to do with how Adam likes to play basketball."

"Adam likes to scuba dive too."

"Okay, it might be totally uncool of me, but the picture brewing in my mind scares the hell out of me. And I was raised in the water."

"Never dived?"

"Oh, I have. Which is why the idea of my twelve-year-old son doing it is so frightening."

Covering her mouth with her hand, Annette did her best to mask her laughter. Especially since this time he was pretty sure she was laughing at him, not with him. "It's pretty tame at Adam’s age. And plenty of years of snorkeling came first. The Big Island Dive shop has a training pool and lots of classes for young kids. They're a great group of people."

"Do you dive?"

Annette beamed. "You bet. I love the water. It's why we bought a vacation home here."

"Vacation? But Adam's in school."

Her gaze dropped to the table. "After I got out of the hospital—"

"The hospital?"

The way she drew in a deep ragged breath, Mike wished he had kept his stupid mouth shut.

"I was also in the plane crash. My husband and the pilot were killed instantly. I spent a great deal of time in intensive care. When I finally was released and able to travel, I joined my children here to finish my rehab."

Intensive care? Rehab? He'd quickly learned she had the tenacity of a pit bull, but that didn't begin to describe the strength this woman must draw upon. Mike took a good long look. Not just at the surface: the pretty eyes, sweet smile, silky hair, or the hint of cleavage that could easily feed his imagination for hours—if he let it run in that direction. Instead he focused on how she held her shoulders straight, erect, proud. Her chin high, firm, strong. And her eyes. Almost caramel in color with flecks of yellow shone with compassion and warmth. The same qualities that had no doubt pushed her to stand up for Brian in the first place.

"The kids were settled in school already," she continued, "and Los Angeles didn't appeal anymore. The smog. The traffic. The flash. The attitude. I couldn't deal with it. I needed … simple. So here we are."

"You're amazing."

Her cheeks turned several shades of pretty pink. Big eyes looked up at him through long lashes. He was in some serious trouble.

LUNCHTIME the last few days had gone about the same. Annette brought Adam and Cory takeout, while Brian ate his regular fare. Eddie had veered too close to a table of “uncool” kids, but, when he caught sight of Annette watching him, he'd cut a wider path. She would have to figure out a long-lasting way to deal with this kid after she no longer came to lunch. A few more kids had joined her son's table. The original group of three now consisted of six. All thoughtful of Brian. Annette noticed that, on occasion, when too many of the kids were all horsing around at the same time, Brian seemed to pull into himself, but she had yet to notice any of the meltdowns that Mike had warned her of. She had to wonder if maybe Brian's desire to be mainstreamed went hand in hand with a growing ability to manage the world around him. For his sake she certainly hoped so.

"There you are."

Annette looked up to see Emily Everrett approach their lunch table.

"Hey. What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you. You're not answering your phone."

Annette gave an apologetic wince. "I turn it to Silent while we're at lunch."

"That's what Maggie said."

"You called Maggie?" Boy Emily must really want to talk to her. Unless … Her heart lurched and lodged in her throat, almost robbing her of air. "Is something wrong with Bethany?"

"No, no." Emily shooed her over and sat beside her. "This is about a new program. I'm meeting with the principal in thirty minutes and thought you might want to join me."

"Me? Why me?"

"It would be good to have some parental backup."

"Ah. A blood sacrifice."

Emily laughed. "Maybe not that bad. But I wouldn't mind if you sat in."

"Does this have something to do with Brian?"

"It does."

"Then the one who should sit in is Mike. Not me."

"Mike?" Emily batted her eyes at her friend. "Not Michael or Mr. Becker?"

Annette shook her head and rolled her eyes upward. "You've been spending too much time in high school."

"Okay, okay. And I agree about Brian's father, but he can't break away."

"You asked him?"

"Of course I did. This is official school business. I do have access to parent records."

"But you teach at the high school, not the junior high."

"Doesn't matter. Same district. Besides, this is Kona not New York City."

Annette shrugged. "So what have you got on your mind?"

"At dinner the other night, Doug asked about school sports programs. I remembered that, last year, the high school started a unified basketball program. I checked around and turns out it's been a huge success. Each of the district's unified teams consists of three special needs players and two regular students. This way the special needs children feel a part of things, and the other kids, who maybe aren't talented enough to play on the varsity teams, feel better about themselves as well. Gives everyone a chance to shine a bit. A real self-esteem booster. It's working better than the district had hoped. I'm thinking the program could be beneficial at the junior high level. I looked into it, and I think there are enough special education students for the concept to work, but we'd have to move fast if they're going to start alongside the regular season."

"Adam does love to play but didn't think he was good enough to try out for the school team."

"See what I mean?" Emily's dimples bookended her bright smile. "You're the perfect person to help convince the principal that this will be a good experiment."

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Annette scanned the room, looking for Eddie and his friends. Something in her gut told her to follow the kids as they shoved their lunch remnants into a bag, gathered their things, and filed out of the cafeteria. "I'm going to tag along here a minute, and then I'll meet you at the principal's office."

"No problem. I've got a few minutes. I'll be right behind you."

Sure enough, at the end of the hall, Eddie and his band of troublemakers huddled in wait. Annette shook her head and, instead of merely shadowing the boys, picked up speed and zipped ahead of them, stopping short in front of Eddie. "How are you today?" she asked the startled tween.

"Uh …"

"Have you met my friend Ms. Everrett? She's the math teacher at the high school."

Somehow the kid's eyes grew even rounder.

Emily extended her hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Hello." He looked down at her hand, as though it were capable of biting off his arm, but finally reached out to shake.

"I'm also in charge of the theater arts productions, so, if you think you'd enjoy being in the plays or working on the stage crew, I'm the person to see."

For a split second Annette thought she saw a twinkle in the kid's eye. Did the kid want to act, sing, or build a fake world? Another challenge. Emily's earlier words about building self-esteem in the regular students started an idea percolating. "Do you by any chance play basketball, Eddie?"

"No, ma'am. I mean, not on the school team."

"But you like to play?"

Eddie kicked his toe into the vinyl floor. "Some."

Glancing sideways, Annette caught Emily's satisfied nod. Things were definitely looking up.

CHAPTER 7

M ike couldn't believe it. Brian was actually doing homework, and peace still reigned. He had no idea how Adam had pulled it off, but the two kids sat at the kitchen table like any pair of average schoolkids anywhere in the world. No drama. No strained nerves. Just focused work.

According to the clock on the wall, Annette would be here any minute to pick up Adam. Every day for over a week she'd called to report how the school day had gone, and then she'd listen patiently for Mike to replay Brian's perception of the day. Most times Brian had little to say, but that was okay. Everything had become routine for him. Routine was good.

Bit by bit they'd continued chatting past talk of the boys. And tonight he was looking forward to a little face-to-face conversation. At least he hoped she and Adam wouldn't have to rush off.

In the last ten minutes, he'd changed his shirt—twice—stopped to look in the mirror to ensure he hadn't sprouted a third eye or a stray cowlick—three times—and decided there was no need to straighten the living room—again. If the doorbell hadn't finally rung, who knows what ridiculous distraction he'd have fallen for.

"Hi." He opened the door wide. "The boys are still working. Are you in a hurry?"

She crossed the threshold. "Not at all."

"Good." He waved her in. "Would you like something cold to drink, or I could put the kettle on for tea?"

"Tea would be great."

"Earl Grey?"

"Yes." Her smile grew a little wider. "Thanks."

"Have a seat on the sofa and I'll be right back."

Bobbing her head, Annette sat on the oversize sofa and resisted the urge to wipe her hands on her slacks. Maybe she should have worn the khaki skirt. She'd only changed three—or was it four?—maybe five times before settling on white slacks and a simple lavender cotton top. As nervous as she was, anyone would think she was a teenager crushing on the captain of the football team.

Though how many high school crushes had their teenage children for chaperones? That thought had her chuckling. She was being ridiculous, and she knew it, but she'd forgotten the giddy excitement that came from liking a guy and getting to know him better and even daydreaming about the possibilities. Hell, when she'd met Tom, she actually had been a teenager. She never expected to feel this way again. Ever. And she most definitely liked it.

"Here you go." Mike set the mug in front of her.

He remembered she didn't use milk or sugar, which made her want to smile again. "Thanks."

"Hope you don't mind I nuked the water instead of using a kettle."

"Not a problem. If my life depended on it, I'm not sure I could find a kettle in my kitchen."

Mike settled in a chair in front of her. A mug in one hand, his other hand came to rest atop the ankle he had just crossed over his thigh. The casual pose looked to be the perfect magazine cover shot. She wished she had a camera and the liberty to capture the moment. Searching for words, Annette stalled, blowing on the warm liquid. "Did Emily tell you the school is making the junior high unified basketball teams a priority?"

"The boys have been talking about it. Adam is so patient. Brian gets one thought in his mind and tends to repeat it frequently throughout the conversation, and Adam simply answers and keeps going."

"Well, normally any program like this would take more than a couple of weeks to organize and implement, but so many people have come together to make this happen fast. The first practice is already scheduled for next week. Nick and Billy from the Big Island Dive shop have offered to supply the uniforms. Doug, one of the dive instructors and Emily's fiancé, has volunteered to coach our team with Mr. Gatlin, the science teacher."

"That's very nice of the dive shop."

"They're very nice people."

"Sounds like it. But from the few conversations I've had with Gatlin, I wouldn't have expected him to be a sports fan."

"He's not." Annette bit back a smile. "That's why Doug is the assistant coach. The district requires a certified teacher be the head coach. Mr. Gatlin doesn't know a blessed thing about basketball, but he does believe in the program, so he stepped up. Next year, when the regular PE teacher is back from maternity leave, she'll take over coaching."

"I gather she's the sports fan."

"More than that, she went through college on a basketball scholarship. She's so excited she's threatening to get up from bed rest to come watch the games." Mike's brow crinkled into a concerned frown, so Annette answered the unasked question. "She's having twins, and the doctor wants her off her feet for the last six weeks of her pregnancy."

His forehead smoothed, and he shook his head. "I can't imagine raising twins. Karen and I were challenged with one. When Brian was a baby, we'd worry because he wouldn't nap. Then we'd worry if he napped too long." He chuckled. "Looking back, I realize we were a bit hyperconcerned."

"Not unusual for first-time parents. I spent a lot of hours watching Bethany sleep, mostly to make sure she was still breathing."

The two chuckled more loudly.

Mike scrubbed the smile from his face. "Considering how frightening it is being responsible for a tiny person, it's amazing that anyone has more than one."

"Oh, but they're so precious."

"They are," he agreed. "Did you ever consider having more?"

"Actually I did. But a friend of ours told me the problem with three children is you're always one arm or one parent short. The advice made sense, so I settled for two. Though now, on days when I have too much time on my hands, I think it would be nice to have a little one around the house. Then I remember how much work raising toddlers is and think maybe not."

Mike took a sip of his tea. "You know what they say. Small children, small problems. Big children, big problems."

His gaze fell to the mug cradled in his hands, and, for the first time, Annette considered the weight Mike had to carry, worrying about his son's future, his old age after she and Mike weren't here to watch out for him anymore. … She and Mike. Where had that come from? She didn't have any responsibility for Brian. At least none that would continue much longer. Things had settled at school. Eddie and his crew were laying low. That might change, once she no longer joined the kids for lunch, but maybe things would be okay. Especially with Eddie participating in the new basketball program. Hopefully with all their efforts Eddie and others would come to understand bullying of any kind was not appropriate or acceptable behavior.

Adam came from the kitchen. "Hi, Mom. We're about finished. I'm going to the bathroom, and then we can go."

She smiled and nodded and wished for a little more time with Mike. The conversation wasn't earth shattering. They weren't about to solve the problems of world peace or poverty, but it was nice just knowing Mike was here. Someone to talk to, if she wanted to, or to just be.

Sliding his ankle off his other leg, Mike set both feet on the ground and leaned forward in his chair. "I was thinking. Would you like to join me for dinner? Maybe catch a movie?"

Annette blinked. Was he talking about just the two of them? A date? A real date? Or was her own wishful thinking misinterpreting again? Did he mean her and the boys?

"Just the two of us," he added, as though he were reading her thoughts.

She almost laughed. The notion that anyone could read her mind should have scared the hell out of her, but, instead, the idea made her a little warm all over. "I'd love to."

CHAPTER 8

N ever had a week seemed so long. Mike had no idea how the sitter was going to work out at nighttime, but he hoped that Brian's familiarity with their neighbor Liz would make her presence in their house less stressful for him. Just in case, they'd done a short test run of sorts. A few days ago Liz came over and stayed with Brian while Mike ran to the grocery store for an hour or so. When he'd returned, all was well. The shift to a new person keeping Brian company had been easy. Mike didn't understand if this had anything to do with the puberty theory, but, even though Brian still needed routine—a precise routine—his reactions when things veered off course seemed less dramatic. Mike wasn't fooling himself into thinking that Brian's fixated tendencies would simply go away, but, for whatever reasons, change was at least a little easier for his son to handle. And that was a good thing.

The address Annette had given him was in a more secluded neighborhood. And more affluent. Not that he was surprised by that. It hadn't taken him long to realize Annette was a stay-at-home mom, with a full-time household manager-slash-nanny, depending on what kind of help was needed. Any widow with that kind of resources wasn't likely to be living in a trailer park, and yet he was still a little surprised, and even awed, at the massive modern home at the top of the long drive. He was no slouch in the income department. Karen had been a stay-at-home mom, and they had still managed to live a very comfortable life and to build a nice nest egg for Brian's future. But there was no way he and Annette would have ever traveled in the same circles anyplace but here in Paradise.

Swallowing hard, he shook his mind clear. Tonight wasn't a social-economic forum; it was dinner. With a nice lady. A very nice lady. One he wanted to get to know better. Much better.

Every time he considered how far under his skin Annette Deluca had settled in, it surprised the crap out of him. Lots of people had said time would heal all wounds. He'd fall in love again. Live a full and happy life. And with each passing year he'd been more convinced every one of those Pollyannas were full of shit. Until now. Until now. Where Annette’s house had failed to intimidate him, the emotions surging inside him—at the realization that he was fully capable of falling in love with Annette Deluca—were almost enough to send him running home to Florida. To the familiar, the cold, and the empty. Almost. Instead he prayed he'd made the right choices for tonight. He desperately did not want their first date to be their last.

Parking the car in front of the massive entryway, Mike sucked in a deep breath, grabbed the small bouquet of fresh blooms, and hoped, once again, that he didn't look too lame bringing flowers. The wide-eyed look of surprise, followed by a sprawling grin on Annette's face as she opened the door and spotted the floral bouquet, told him he'd hit the mark. So far, so good.

"Oh, Mike. You shouldn't have." She whisked the flowers into her hands. "If you'll give me a couple of minutes, I'll get these in water."

He followed her into the house and marveled at the expansive layout. Then he froze at the view. Holy cow. From her perch on a hill, spectacular was too boring a word for the sight before him. Wow.

Having set the vase of fresh flowers on the coffee table, she sidled up beside him. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

"Impressive."

"It's why we bought the place. It was way more house than either of us had wanted, but we couldn't resist basking in that view every day."

"I can certainly understand why." Shaking away his nerves for the umpteenth time tonight, he turned to her. "Shall we go?"

"Absolutely."

He waited for her to close and lock the front door. "Hope you're hungry."

"Starved."

Holding open the car door for her, Mike waited as she eased into the passenger seat. The leg of her capris shifted higher, and he took an extra second to admire the curve of her leg sliding in place. For the first time he noticed a slim scar snaking up the side of her calf, reminding him of the physical hell she'd been through. Which only made him want this incredible woman to be a big part of his life, even more than he had five minutes ago.

IT WAS all Annette could do not to fidget during the drive to the restaurant. By the time they'd reached the end of town, all her anxiousness about this evening had smoothed away. Talking with Mike was fun and easy. She shouldn't have let herself get all worked up. So what if she hadn't been on a date in decades?

She'd spent most of the day wondering what he had in mind. Especially after he'd called and told her to dress comfortably. Not that there was much call for dressing up in Kona, but his being thoughtful enough to give her a heads-up said so much about the kind of man Mike Becker was. And she was so excited to get to know him better.

"Here we are." Mike pulled into the tiny parking lot of a white frame house tucked off the main road behind a wide band of trees and shrubs covered in twinkling multicolored holiday lights.

The tiny restaurant was so well hidden from view that Annette had never noticed it was here. "This looks adorable."

"My neighbor recommended its home cooking."

"Really?"

"You mentioned how much you enjoyed Maile Everrett's culinary skills, so I thought, well, … if you don't like it, we can always go somewhere else." He climbed out of the car and circled quickly around to open her door.

"No. I think this is going to be perfect."

He extended his hand to help her out but managed to close her door and turn toward the weathered white building without letting go. Halfway to the restaurant door, his step slowed, and he glanced down at their joined hands, then up to her face. He seemed as surprised to notice he was still holding on as she'd been to have him not release his grip as soon as she'd exited the car. He lifted their hands slightly. "Is this okay?"

The gentle, innocent question shot her with a rush of adrenaline that nearly melted her heart. All she could do was nod.

His questioning gaze shifted to a bright smile, as his fingers threaded with hers. She felt lighter than she'd felt in ages. And liked it.

Mike did all the right things for a first date. Opened doors and pulled out chairs. When she rose to go to the ladies’ room, he stood as well. When she came back, he stood again. His mama had definitely raised him right.

"This is absolutely fabulous." The mussels in white wine sauce had been superb, and now the coconut-crusted tilapia melted in her mouth. "Don't say anything to Maile, but I think this may be better than hers."

"My lips are sealed." He grinned.

For dessert they shared a fantastic pumpkin custard. Somehow middip the spoons momentarily clashed, then tangled. The dueling spoons came within seconds of sending dark custard flying across the room. Only unsteady hands from fits of laughter spared the neighboring diners the surprise of being doused in dessert.

Had Mike suggested they spend the entire evening chatting at the small table, she would have gladly agreed. As much as she'd hated to leave the tiny oasis from the ordinary world, once settled in the car, anticipation for the rest of the night rushed through her veins. "Where to now?"

"That's a bit of a surprise." Mike shifted gears and pulled out of the parking lot. "And like dinner, if it's not to your liking, we can—"

"Go somewhere else," she finished for him. "I'm sure whatever you have planned is going to be great."

"We'll see." He flashed a sparkling smile, and Annette resisted the urge to stretch out her arm and snatch his hand in hers.

Not far down the main road, Mike turned inland a few blocks and pulled into the parking lot for the Funtime Bowling Lanes. After the sweet dinner, she wasn't quite sure what to make of this.

Mike lifted the console between them and pulled out a fresh pack of women's tennis socks and grinned, his smile less sure than a few minutes before. "You game?"

The little-boy look in his eyes had her ready and willing to do just about anything he asked. "Absolutely. Just don't hold it against me that I haven't held a bowling ball since I was twelve."

"Good. Then I won't look so bad when you realize I haven't bowled since I was in high school."

Once again he took her hand and didn't let go until they received their shoes at the counter. The majority of the bowlers occupied the lanes to the left of the establishment. Their assigned lane had them isolated to the far right. Which would explain the muffled conversation between Mike and the clerk, while Annette tested the fit of her rented shoes.

"Boy, things sure have changed since I was twelve." No more paper score sheets. As a matter of fact there was no need for scorekeeping of any kind. A large screen above kept track of pins for anyone and everyone to see. "I guess this makes it harder to cheat."

"I wouldn't have done that anyhow." Mike tied his shoelaces.

Annette pushed to her feet. "I was referring to me."

Mike chimed in laughing, and together they sifted through the various colored balls. Of course he chose one of the heavier black balls; she opted for an eight-pound purple. When she caught him looking oddly at her choice, she shrugged a shoulder. "It's my favorite color."

The way he nodded and walked away, she got the feeling that, along with her preferred choice of tea and love for Maile's cooking, her favorite color had just been filed away for future use. Her heart gave an extra kick, and her pulse took off at a fast clip. What was this man doing to her?

CHAPTER 9

M idway through the game, Mike couldn't stop smiling. On the way to the bowling alley, he'd taken a minute to call Liz. Thankfully all was smooth sailing, and he'd been able to relax and just enjoy some fun time with Annette. Not that either of them were ready for a pro bowling tour, but, if there was a Cutest Butt Wiggle competition, Annette would be a champ. The way she scurried forward and flung the ball down the lane had been the best entertainment he'd had in so very long.

Whether it was one pin or ten, every time she actually knocked something down, they laughed, slapped high fives, hip checked, and the one time she actually got a strike, she threw her arms around him in a back-crushing squeeze. One he almost didn't let go from.

"Your turn." Annette beamed, walking past him, wiping her hands on a small bag of chalk. "We should do this with the kids. I bet they'd love it. Probably would beat me, but they'd have a blast."

Mike nodded, but his smile almost slipped. He couldn't imagine Brian handling the constant sounds and movement. His already hypersensitive nature would be on full-blast overload. Then again, so much had changed in the few weeks since Annette and Adam decided to get involved.

"What's wrong?" Annette dropped the bag on the ball return and moved in closer. "Your mouth is smiling, but your eyes aren't."

Did she know him that well already?

"Oh, my God. Of course. The noise. Brian wouldn't like the noise." Her hand flew to her mouth, and her brow crinkled in concern. "I’m so sorry," she mumbled through her fingers.

"Hey"—he closed the small gap between them—"don't feel bad. Few people understand the challenges Brian faces. At least you’re starting to get it."

"I know but—"

He placed his index finger over her lips. "No but. You and Adam have been wonderful for Brian. You've made a huge difference in his life." Mike hesitated a moment, not sure if the next thought that popped in his head was something he should share, but his mouth didn't seem to care what his filters thought. "And mine."

The shock and regret in her big brown eyes immediately softened. A glint of moisture glistened at him, and, for a split second, he worried he'd said something to make her cry.

"Back at you," she whispered into his finger.

Oh, Lord. Was this it? Was that the cue that every single guy looked for? The one that usually came at the end of the date and said "kiss the girl"? Could he really be seeing raw hunger in her eyes? Did he dare? But she wasn't moving. Didn't pull back.

He inched his head a little closer, hoping she wouldn't retreat, and, slipping his finger out of the way, let his mouth land softly against hers. His heart galloped in his tightening chest. Any minute he expected her to back off in abject horror at his forwardness. Instead her arms snaked around his neck, and she burrowed even closer. God, she felt so good. So right. So … perfect. How horrible would it be if he stood here just a little longer? In public. Damn.

Taking a half step back, he let his hands slide to her hips. "I, uh, … would give my right arm for a comfortable sofa and a little privacy."

"I was thinking the backseat of an old Chevy would work." Her forehead dropped against his shoulder. "Did I say that out loud?"

His chest rumbled with muffled laughter. "Yeah, you did. And you have no idea how sorry I am that I don't have a backseat." Sucking in a deep breath, he took two steps back. "I have to be home soon for Brian. We should probably finish the game."

Annette nodded, her cheeks slightly flushed. "Right. The game."

Those few words had come out slow and hesitant. He hoped she wasn't considering for even a second that he was blowing smoke. Reaching out and placing a finger under her chin, he lifted her face. "I really do wish this could last all night."

Annette barely nodded, his finger still tilting her head upward.

"Would you be willing to agree to a second date, or do I need to wait the appropriate few days and call?"

The sweet smile he'd grown rather fond of teased her lips into a perfect half-moon. "I think we can agree to another date."

"Free next Saturday night?"

She nodded. "Casual?"

"No." He grinned back at her. "I have something else in mind for our second date."

"SO HOW WAS THE DATE?"

From her spot on the gymnasium bleacher, Annette spun left to the direction of the voice.

"Oh, don't look so surprised." Emily took a seat beside her. "Maggie and Adam came by the shop yesterday when I was there. They wanted to see the new uniforms. Maggie may have mentioned something about being home with Adam and Bethany on Friday night, while you went out with Brian's dad."

"What are you doing here?"

"Nice dodge. I thought I'd come watch practice. Doug really is great with kids, don't ya think?"

"Mmm. He is." Annette was thrilled to shift attention away from her.

"So when's the next date?" Emily kept her eyes on the group of kids on the court.

"Who said there was a first date?"

Emily turned, dipping her chin, and glared at Annette with a look that most likely made her students cringe.

"Okay. I give. I had a great time."

"Good. Where'd you go?" Emily returned her attention to the practice below.

"Bowling."

Emily's head snapped around again. "Bowling?"

The memory had Annette grinning from ear to ear. She'd been doing that a lot lately. Maggie was the only one to call her on it. So far. "Yeah. We had a lot of fun."

Considering the response for a little bit, Emily finally nodded. "I bet you did. And now?"

"We're going out again Saturday." Every day their telephone conversations grew longer. And when Mike had to cut things off for work or Brian, Mike would call back later—often after Brian had gone to bed—and they'd talk even more. She still didn't understand how they hadn't run out of topics for conversation. The interesting thing for her was how she'd always thought, if she ever met someone new, she wouldn't be able to talk about Tom. That any mention of the first love of her life would somehow be a threat to another man. But not Mike. He understood what it was like to lose a mate. And rather than feel threatened, he asked about Tom. How they'd met. How long they’d dated. What the wedding was like. When the kids were born. He especially seemed fascinated by the early years, when they were building the business. It had been cathartic for her to share how she'd felt so alone and isolated in ICU while some crazed drug lord gunned for her husband's business and maybe even her children.

"More bowling?" Emily asked.

"I don't know what he has planned this time either."

"Ooh. A man with surprises." Emily's gaze remained riveted on her fiancé.

"Do you recognize the tall kid behind Doug?"

Eyes wide, Emily looked to the boy then back to Annette. "Do you really think having the bully on the team is a smart idea?"

"Mike and I were chatting, and we agreed. Learning true teamwork could be a good thing for him."

"I won't argue with you about the positive effects of sports on children, but the bully …" Emily returned her gaze to the court. "How did you talk him into it?"

"Like Adam, he's not good enough for the school team but enjoys the sport. At first he made a fuss about playing with rejects. But I could tell he really did want to participate, so it wasn't a hard push for him to sign up. Eddie's father liked the idea too."

"His father's involved in this?"

Annette nodded. "Mike gave him a call. He didn't like the idea of the two boys on the same team if there wasn't full parental support behind it."

"Makes sense. What did the father say?"

"Both he and his wife had been looking for a way to get Eddie more involved in extracurricular activities, but Eddie hadn't shown any interest until this. They're almost as excited about it as we are."

"Huh." Emily shrugged. "Well, I'm no expert, but, from up here, things seem to be going pretty well."

"Yeah, I think so too,” Annette said. “Doug came to school every afternoon for a few minutes to talk with the kids as a team. Prepare them for what's going to happen at practice. Show them around the gym. Get the special needs kids used to him, before he starts working with them. I'm so impressed with how he seems to instinctively know what each child needs. You've got a great guy there."

"I do." Emily's face brightened. "And so do you."

Annette really did. Every day whatever it was growing between her and Mike felt stronger and more important. She never would have thought she could care so much after only a few weeks. And yet she did care. A lot. Knowing that, in a little more than twenty-four hours, she would be on her second real date made her want to sing. Loudly. And she couldn't carry a tune. Tomorrow night was not coming fast enough.

CHAPTER 10

Standing at the massive entryway of Annette's house, Mike sucked in a calming breath and rang the bell. He'd been as nervous about tonight as he'd been about last week. For their first date, concerned how Brian would do with the sitter for longer than three hours or so, Mike had intentionally kept their evening short. Tonight he hoped to enjoy the night without those constraints of time. His stomach did another flip, and a part of him wondered if he would ever get over this nervous anticipation every time he thought of being with Annette. And that was simply occupying the same room. He didn't dare let his mind wander to being with her in an intimate encounter. Remembering the kiss last week was enough to send his hormone levels soaring and bring the head below his belt to full attention. He most definitely could not go there. Not yet.

"Hi." Annette opened the door, her face immediately softening when she noticed the gift. "You're going to spoil me."

"I saw it at the grocery store and couldn't resist." Holding out the small teddy bear in a basketball uniform, he wasn't going to mention he'd been to two toy stores and one gift shop before he stumbled onto the bear at the supermarket. "He needed a good home."

Annette scooped the stuffed animal against her chest, and Mike wished he could change places with the bear.

"I'll have to find a special place for him." She waved Mike into the house and gestured for him to take a seat in the living room. "I'll settle him in my room and be right back."

The mere mention of her bedroom had his libido at full attention. He was really glad for the open patio doors, refreshing breezes, and the chance to settle back down. The last thing he needed tonight was to come off as a horny teenager with a one-track mind. Even if his mind wasn't too far from just that.

"Okay. I'm all set. Where are we going?"

"I found a restaurant across town with a little piano bar, and tonight's musical highlights are the crooners." She'd mentioned in passing about discovering Tony Bennett's duet CDs after watching a PBS special with Lady Gaga singing on one of his recordings. Annette had bought that CD, fallen in love with the great remakes of the old favorites with popular singers, and bought all the others as well. He took a gamble that she'd like that era of music even without the pop stars.

"That sounds fabulous, but I'd better warn you I won't be able to resist singing along."

The momentary knot that had formed in his chest when she'd said the word but now loosened with the rest of her sentence, and a smile teased his lips. "We can sing together."

"Ha. You say that now. Wait till you discover I can't carry a tune to save my life."

She sauntered off to the car, and Mike's gaze shot straight to the gentle sway of her hips. He doubted seriously there was one imperfect bone—or note—in that woman's body.

ANNETTE COULDN'T REMEMBER A MORE magical night. The tiny continental restaurant was heaven, the food spectacular, and the piano player had an array of tunes from Frank Sinatra to Michael Bublé. Every time the urge to sing along crept up, she shoved another forkful of food into her mouth.

"Sorry that took so long." Mike slid back into his seat. Liz was sitting again with Brian and Mike had taken a few moments to step outside and call. He and Annette had stopped for before-dinner cocktails on the beach and had already passed the three-hour time frame he'd been gone from Brian last week.

"Is something wrong? Should we head home?"

"No, no. Everything is fine." He took a sip of his drink, set down the glass, and smiled at her. "I can tell from the way your foot keeps tapping that you're enjoying the music."

"Totally."

"Who's your favorite?"

"Well, of the songs he's played so far, I'd have to say, 'They Can't Take That Away from Me,' but 'I Get a Kick out of You' is a close second. What about you?"

"Wrong era. I'm more of a U2 sort of guy."

"In that case it was especially nice of you to bring me here."

"I had ulterior motives."

"Such as?" She loved it when his eyes sparkled with mischief.

Mike pushed back his seat and, standing, extended his hand across the small table. "Dance with me?"

The quaint restaurant sported a small patch of wooden floor beside the piano. An older couple, who moved as though they'd been dancing together their entire lives, glided along the floor to a peppier rendition of "The Shadow of Your Smile." By the time Annette and Mike reached the small space, the pianist began to sing Frank's popular hit "All the Way."

With every note played, she curled closer into his arms, feeling lost and safe at the same time. As the soothing male voice crooned throughout the room, "if you let me love you," Mike's hold on her tightened. They swayed across the floor in a single fluid movement as though they too had been dancing together for all their lives. She wanted to stay like this, dancing in his arms.

Every word of the song seemed to be directed straight at her, addressing any doubts or fears that might have been tickling the back of her mind, as each day passed and she found herself more and more entranced with Michael Becker. But here and now, she was sure of at least one thing. Wherever this new road led them, there was no turning back. She was in deep with both feet, for as far and long as he'd have her.

GLADLY MIKE WOULD HAVE DANCED with Annette in his arms all night. All year. Every word sung seemed to be directed straight at him, addressing the few doubts and fears that might have been kicking at the back of his mind as he found himself more and more entranced with Annette Deluca. Whether she knew it or not, he was completely hers. Now all he had to do was bide his time and hopefully worm his way into her heart as deeply as she'd made herself at home in his.

The pianist played another tune before taking his break. Mike considered for a brief moment if the few patrons would notice if he and Annette kept dancing to their own music. He wondered if it was as hard for her to pull apart as it had been for him. "They have a wonderful dessert menu," he said easing farther away. Willing his hands to let go of her.

Annette seemed to struggle to find her smile. "I don't think I could eat another bite."

Without dessert there was no excuse to stay. To wait for another set. To hold her in his arms again. To feel her warmth nestled against him.

"But I wouldn't mind a cup of tea," she added.

Hallelujah. He wasn't ready to end this date yet. Holding out her seat for her, he took advantage and let his fingers brush slightly against her back, before returning to his own seat. Unwilling to leave the table again, he quickly shot off a text to the sitter to check on Brian: HOW'S IT GOING? The response was immediate: FINE. STOP CHECKING ON US AND ENJOY YOUR DATE.

"Something funny?" Annette asked.

"I've been scolded by Liz and told to stop checking up on them." Determined to do as advised, he slipped the phone into his pocket.

"Seems like sound advice." She continued to smile up at him, as he ordered two cups of tea, but he could see a whirlpool of emotions hiding behind those soft chestnut-colored eyes. And that worried him.

An awkward silence fell over the table, and Mike wondered if he'd gone too far. If maybe she'd not been ready for this much attention from him. With every passing day he felt as though he'd known Annette for years. When Karen passed, he never really believed there'd be another woman in his life who made him feel so much at home. But everything was comfortable with Annette. Not even mentioning Karen's name was a problem. After all, no woman wants to play second fiddle to a dead wife, but Annette wasn't like that.

With her, they could talk about their late spouses with love and affection, and understand that, like multiple children, it in no way diminished how much love Mike had for Annette. And, yes. He loved her. The real kind Sinatra and the piano player crooned about. The kind that went together like a horse and carriage. And wasn't that a problem? There was so much more to consider than just how he felt about her.

The waiter reappeared with two small teapots of water and their choice of teas. Annette thanked the server and quickly began dipping the tea bag in her cup of water. Just as Mike was about to ask any inane question to break the tension, she laid her wrists on the edge of the table and lifted her chin high. "What are we doing?"

He had to think a minute. Too unsure of what she meant, he had no choice. "Excuse me?"

"I know I should keep my mouth shut, play the game, see where this goes. If it goes anywhere at all. But I can't do that. It's not my style."

"No." He smiled. "I don't imagine waiting for anything is your style."

Shaking her head, she returned his easy grin, though hers was considerably more unsteady. "Why are you doing all this?" She waved from the table to the pianist. "What do you want from me? Because, quite frankly, I don't remember a roll in the hay requiring this much attention."

Her words stunned him momentarily. "You're right. As much as I would love to have my hands all over you, this is not about sex. All I'd need to find a roll in the hay, as you put it, is a short while at a local bar and a little free-flowing booze. I'm not after that. Never have been."

He'd hoped she would say something. All she did was continue to stare at him with laserlike precision that had him wondering if she could read his mind, but, if not, she was most certainly determining the veracity of his words. Honesty was the best policy. "I don't want to say the wrong thing."

That clearly caught her by surprise. She eased forward slightly. "I don't understand."

Brushing aside the teacup, he stretched his hand out to fold it over hers. "I'm a one-woman man. For years I thought that woman was Karen. Thought it would always be Karen. Thought I'd never find anyone else who … fit. Until you."

Her eyes widened, and he could feel the tremble of her fingers beneath his.

In for a penny, in for a pound. "I don't think I could handle losing you too."

She closed her eyes, and his already hammering heart stuttered to a halt. When she lifted her lids, he saw a clarity that had been missing since they'd sat down again. "I don't want to lose you either. So what do we do about it?"

ANNETTE WAS SURE, if life got any better, her face would split in two from smiling so much. Just a few short weeks ago she almost dreaded another holiday without Tom, and now she could hardly wait for Christmas. And every holiday after that. Not that every holiday was guaranteed. Over tea she and Mike had agreed to take things one day at a time. They weren't kids anymore, and both clearly recognized when something was just right. But, in light of Brian's challenges, they'd agreed slow was the only way to proceed. Especially if they wanted this budding relationship to last, and she wanted that very much.

Mike pulled into the drive. She could tell from the way his eyes darted from the dashboard clock to her front door that he was itching to check up on his son again.

"Do you want to call about Brian and then come in for some dessert? Or maybe it would be best if you got back to him."

"No." Mike's eyes twinkled with a hint of humor. "I've got to learn not to be so overprotective. If Liz needs me, she'll call. I would love to come in, if it's not too late."

"Not at all. I think there's cheesecake in the fridge. Assuming the kids didn't eat it all in one sitting." Shoving open the front door, Annette listened for the sound of her family. A selfish little part of her had hoped they'd be in bed, and she could be alone with Mike. "Follow me. I think I hear the TV in the other room."

Off the kitchen, the kids sat in the family room, sprawled on the sofa, watching some movie with a loud car-chase scene. Most likely Adam's choice. Maggie was installed in the recliner across the way, working on a crossword puzzle—though Annette had no idea how Maggie could think straight with the surround sound on.

"Mom." Bethany looked up and waved.

For a split second, Annette thought she saw disappointment cross her face, but now her daughter was all smiles. Adam was another story. The boy looked from Annette to Mike, Adam’s icy gaze enough to chill the room.

"Hi, honey." She moved farther into the room, expecting the usual hug and kiss, only to have Adam push to his feet and leave without a word. "What the hell?"

"Maybe I shouldn't have come in after all." Mike stared down the hall after Adam.

"Nonsense." But she didn't get it. There hadn't been a single sign of discomfort or disapproval from either of her children. And now they'd spent all night worrying about how their date would affect Brian, but the one to pitch a silent fit was her son.

"I'm afraid that might be my fault." Maggie set aside her paper and stood. "I was talking with the kids earlier. I said something about how nice it was that you'd found someone who made you as happy as their dad did, and Adam didn't react well."

"I see." Annette's gaze turned to the empty hall.

"You can't really blame him," Bethany said from her space on the sofa.

Maggie sighed. "Mike, can I get you something to drink? We've got everything, including scotch and bourbon."

"Actually"—Annette turned to her house manager and friend—"I promised him cheesecake."

"Good choice." Maggie spun about toward the kitchen. "Cheesecake coming up."

Mike glanced at Annette, and she clearly read the question in his eyes. "I'm sure. Why don’t you help Maggie cut five slices? We'll all join you in a minute."

Bless the man, he didn't argue or make a fuss, just offered her a reassuring smile and fell in line behind Maggie.

"Want to tell me what's going on?" Annette sat beside her daughter.

"Nothing really. But you can't blame Adam for being upset."

"I'll talk to Adam about Adam. I want to know what's going on with you."

Bethany grabbed at a nearby cushion, then, sighing, tossed it aside again. "I know in my head that Dad wouldn't want you to be alone the rest of your life. I get it. I'm not stupid."

"And you're not a little girl anymore either."

That made Bethany smile. "Thanks. Like I said, I know this is in my head, but it's just going to take the rest of me a while to catch up. Mike's a nice guy. It's just … a little hard sometimes."

Annette pulled her daughter into a tight embrace. "It's hard on me too."

"Really?" Bethany mumbled in her ear.

"Really." Annette didn't pull away, until her daughter released her hold. "We're going to talk about this some more. Later. Right now I need to talk to Adam, and there's a slice of cheesecake in the kitchen with everyone's name on it."

Bethany smiled just enough to let Annette know her daughter really would be okay with all of this. "I love you, Mom."

"Love you too, baby." Annette patted her daughter's arm, and the two walked off in opposite directions. Reaching her son's room, Annette tapped lightly on the door frame. At least he hadn't closed the door. That was a good sign. "May I come in?"

Adam sat in front of his Gamebox and nodded.

"Want to tell me what's on your mind?" She eased onto the bed beside him.

Putting down the controller, he gave her a halfhearted shrug.

"Is this because of something Maggie said?"

"I guess." Without actually picking up the controller again, Adam continued to fidget with it, before looking his mother in the face. "Mike's a nice guy and all, but he's not Dad."

"No." Annette sucked in a breath. "He's not."

"I mean"—Adam looked away again—"I like him, and it was okay going to Wednesday-night pizza and stuff with him and Brian, but—"

"But that's different than just him and me going out?"

"Maggie says Dad wouldn't want you to be alone forever. Do you think that's true?"

"I'd like to think so. I know if I'd been the one who died, I wouldn't want Daddy to be sad without me."

"But I miss him." Adam leaned into her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Now that he was growing up, hugging Mom and snuggling with Mom was considered only for little kids. The gesture had her heart swelling and her eyes watering.

"I miss him too. I'll always miss him. But the heart is an interesting muscle. There's no limit to how much love it holds. I only have you and Bethany, but, when you guys grow up and have children of your own, I'm going to love them as much as I love you. And, if I live long enough to meet my great grandchildren, I'll love them too. I won't love you any less because I have more people to love."

He eased back and looked up at her. "Then you still love Dad?"

"Always will." It was all she could do to blink back the tears.

"And Brian's dad really makes you as happy as Dad did?"

This time all Annette could do was nod. She'd only had a few weeks with Mike, but she hadn't been as happy as she was now since losing Tom.

"Then I guess I'll catch up too."

"Catch up?"

"That's what Bethany called it. But we're not going to have to watch you two kissing and doing other mushy stuff, are we?"

That had her laughing. "Let's agree that, for now, there will be no public mushiness."

Adam's head bobbed. "Okay."

"You up for some cheesecake?"

His eyes lit up. "Maggie wouldn't let us have any until you got home."

"I take it that's a yes."

Adam didn't answer; he gave her a sly grin and ran out of the room, his growing feet slapping heavily against the wood floors. If only everything in life could be solved with a slice of cheesecake.

CHAPTER 11

"Go, Adam!" Hands cupping his mouth, Mike hollered loud and clear. "Cut to the hoop."

Annette was on her feet, beside him, hooting. She didn't have a clue what to shout out that might help. All she knew was Adam had the ball at the other end of the court, and that was a good thing for scoring opportunity. All the rest of the rules about lines, boundaries, and dribbling were completely lost on her.

Almost at the same time as Mike had yelled, Doug had given Adam the same instructions. Her son did as the two men had directed: drew the defense toward him and passed the ball to Jamie, a team member with Down syndrome. Jamie, taking his time—not something often seen in a regular game—aimed and flung the ball up and into the basket. The crowd erupted, and Annette clapped until her palms hurt.

"This really is exciting." Sitting on the other side of Annette, Maile Everrett leaned in closer. "I'd forgotten how much fun it was going to Billy's school games."

Though it astounded Mike when, one by one, the Everrett clan turned up in the bleachers, Annette wasn't even slightly surprised by the show of support. Emily had explained, with the high school program, few people had showed up at the first couple of games to cheer on the kids—only the parents and perhaps a few friends. As those players got better, more attendees came, packing the stands. Not wanting any of the kids in tonight's game to feel slighted, Emily made it a point to mention the game to her mother, brother, and friends.

This close-knit family had taught Annette the true meaning of solidarity. The only people missing were Nick and Kara, since little Catherine had come down with a slight post-vaccinations fever. Jim was on another mission, so his wife, Lexie, was in town for a few days and here cheering on Adam and Brian and even Eddie. Billy and Angela were on Maile's other side. They'd brought their baby girl, Isabella, as well as Nick's son, Bradley. Emily and Bethany were on the lower bleachers, closer to the action. Although Emily cheered for the boys, she did a lot of smiling and thumbs-up pointing at Doug for his coaching efforts. Bethany followed more closely in her mother's footsteps, just hooting and hollering for both her brother and Brian.

One of the away-team members passed the ball, and, instead of reaching the desired teammate, Brian, guarding the player, tapped the ball out of play. Once again Mike sprang to his feet, shouting, "Attaboy, Brian." Though it wasn't necessarily the right thing to have done, having Brian do anything was a major breakthrough.

Unlike Adam, who occasionally glanced at the crowd when his name was called, Brian focused on the ball, watching and moving in tandem with his assigned player. Annette's heart swelled with pride. She'd come to understand just how hard doing those two simple tasks simultaneously were for Brian. Because of his friendship with Adam, and Doug taking his time to familiarize the special ed kids with himself and the gym, Brian had been more cooperative about his participation. Not so much for some of the other children. Annette had heard one of the boys on the other team hid every day after school to avoid practice, until one of the teachers finally had to escort him there.

The fear of change was overwhelming for some of these kids. Or perhaps the fear of participation. She still wasn't sure, but she was delighted to see all the children on the court looking pleased, if a bit like preschoolers playing “herd” ball. So she understood expecting Brian to respond to the crowd was too much, but she and Mike cheered him on anyway. She truly believed, though Brian didn't acknowledge them, deep down he knew they were cheering for him.

With only a few minutes left in the game, the other team had come within two points of catching up and just a moment ago had tied the score. For as raw as Annette's nerves were, she'd have thought the children were playing in the Olympics. Watching the clock tick by slowly, she almost didn't see Eddie dribbling up the court to shoot and score. Another wave of cheers and whistles surrounded her.

“Nice shot, Eddie,” Annette shouted seconds before the final horn blew. The boy's team had won the game by only two points.

"Wow," Billy's wife, Angela, said, shaking her head. "That was a nail-biter."

"Tell me about it." Annette leaned closer to Mike, knowing, if she sidled next to him, he'd shoot out his hand for her to hold. She loved all the small silent understandings they'd come to. Some days she swore he could actually read her mind.

From where she stood, she could easily see the children below. The teams crossed the court to shake the opposing team members' hands and then, she noticed, on their way out of the gym, Adam and Eddie doing a high five, followed by Eddie giving Brian a high five too. She knew it was mostly because Brian felt the need to copy everything Adam did, but she liked the idea that Eddie was, indeed, learning more about teamwork. This was especially true since, as Adam had reported to her, even though she'd cut back to only joining the boys for lunch one day a week, Eddie no longer terrorized the geeks and misfits.

"Okay. Down to the locker rooms to wait for the boys." Mike climbed over the row in front of him. Still holding on to Annette, he waited for her to land beside him before extending his other hand to the Everrett matriarch.

"Don't you even think about it." Maile slapped at his hand. "I'm not that old yet."

Annette laughed. "He helped me. I certainly hope I'm not that old yet."

"At your age it doesn't matter." Maile chuckled beside her, waving off the comment. "At my age, climbing down myself is a statement."

"Ah. Got it."

Holding back a grin, Mike squeezed Annette’s fingers a little tighter. Maile was definitely a force to be reckoned with. "This may sound a bit silly, but I feel like a real parent."

Annette's face scrunched in confusion.

Holding her hand, Mike and she continued to work their way toward to the gym floor. "Today I drove my son to another school to play in a ball game. For the last thirty-plus minutes, I sat in the bleachers, cheering for my child, like all the other parents here. It felt so normal."

There were no words for the emotions gurgling inside her. Sharing this moment with Mike had her nearly tearing up. So many things the average parent took for granted. So much she still didn't understand but was slowly learning.

"Are we all heading out for a celebratory ice cream?" Billy asked, one arm around his wife, the other held the infant carrier with Isabella.

"No." Mike shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea tonight. We're going to go home to familiar territory and lay low."

"Understood." Billy gave a curt dip of his chin, and Annette got the feeling Billy understood things better than any of them.

"Besides," Annette said, "we promised the boys we'd do the Christmas tree at Brian's tonight."

Billy frowned and looked over his shoulder to Annette. "Christmas is only a few days away. Isn't it a little late to be putting up a tree?"

"We don't usually do trees at all," Mike answered, continuing their descent. "But we've been to Annette and Adam's several times since they've had the tree up. Brian keeps staring at the lights. When he was young, the tree just sent him into a tizzy. Now he wants one of his own, so tonight's the night. I figure they'll be on an adrenaline high from a well-played game—at least Adam will. Brian's harder to predict lately. So we might as well accomplish something while waiting for him to wind down."

At the head of the line, Billy reached the end of the bleachers first and directed his wife down the gymnasium main hall.

"So," Maile reached the next to last bleacher, "will you and Brian be joining us for Christmas Eve dinner with Annette and the children?"

Annette noticed Mike's shoulders sag before he answered. "Thank you for the invitation but new places are difficult on Brian. Especially new places with lots of people and the commotion involved in presents and gift-giving. It's best if we treat the day as close to any other day as possible."

That same furrow that appeared earlier on Billy's face formed now on his mother's brow. "I suppose you're right. But if anything changes, you're always welcome."

"Thank you."

This time it was Annette who squeezed Mike's hand, offering a little emotional reassurance. They'd discussed how to handle Christmas multiple times. Some days, when Brian had had an exceptionally eventless day, Mike had thought maybe. Then, on others, when Brian seemed to be on everyone's last nerve, Mike knew a big commotion like that wouldn't work. Tonight was a test of sorts. How well would Brian do with Annette and both her children at his home in a holidaylike event? Would Brian's familiarity and comfort with his own surroundings be enough to maintain his calm with the addition of new people and a Christmas tree? She prayed it would. If tonight went well, the new plans for Christmas involved the Beckers and the Delucas celebrating the holidays as one family.

She loved that idea. One family. Integrating the two worlds would make The Brady Bunch seem like a walk in the park. Even though Adam and Bethany appeared to be on board with the growing relationship, and Brian had begun to accept the Deluca family's involvement in almost everything as part of his routine, she and Mike were still taking their time.

If what they had was real, and she knew it was, then she had nothing to lose taking things one day at a time. But both she and Mike had a goal.

"You doing okay?" Mike asked softly over his shoulder.

"I'm doing more than okay."

"Good." As the final couple to reach ground level, Mike lifted Annette over the last row of bleachers, sliding her down his front. "Damn, you feel so good."

Before she knew what hit her, Mike had tugged her from the moving crowd and into a nearby hallway cutout. Her back to the corner, his arms protectively against the wall on either side of her, his lips fell on hers. The kiss was hot and fast and all-consuming. Just as suddenly as he'd tugged her into the corner, he pulled away. "One day," he mumbled against her forehead.

"I know," she said. "One day. One family."

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Thank you for reading Love Walks In !

Are you curious to learn more about Annette Deluca?

Annette first appears in the Aloha Series in

Book 2: ALMOST PARADISE

Ready for more of the popular military romance Aloha Series?

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Book 1: ALOHA TEXAS

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Meet Chris

Author of eleven contemporary novels, including the award winning Champagne Sisterhood, Chris Keniston lives in suburban Dallas with her husband, two human children, and two canine children. Though she loves her puppies equally, she admits being especially attached to her German Shepherd rescue. After all, even dogs deserve a happily ever after.

More on Chris and her books can be found at

www.chriskeniston.com

Books by Chris Keniston:

Aloha military romance series:

Aloha Texas - Almost Paradise - Mai Tai Marriage -

Dive Into You - Look of Love - Love By Design - Shell Game

Surf's Up Short Story Flirts:

Shall We Dance - Love on Tap - Head Over Heels - Perfect Match

Family Secrets Novels:

Champagne Sisterhood - Hope's Corner - The Homecoming

MARRYING MR. ENGLISH ~ PART 1

BY KATY REGNERY

MARRYING MR. ENGLISH

PART 1

Copyright © 2015 by Katharine Gilliam Regnery

Sale of the electronic edition of this book is wholly unauthorized. Except for use in review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part, by any means, is forbidden without written permission from the author/publisher.

Katharine Gilliam Regnery, publisher

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

Please visit my website at www.katyregnery.com

First Edition: November 2015

Katy Regnery

Marrying Mr. English, Part 1 : a novella / by Katy Regnery – 1st ed.

ISBN: 978-09909-003-9-9

Created with Vellum

For my own mother and father, who have a

breathtaking love story of their own.

I love you.

PROLOGUE

“O nce upon a time . . .”

CHAPTER 1

Vail, Colorado

December 1981

“C ’mon, Ellie,” pleaded Eve Marie. “They’re, like, rich.”

“They’re all rich,” said Eleanora Watters, hustling into the kitchen of Auntie Rose’s Breakfast-All-Day Chalet with an armload of dirty plates.

Eve Marie followed her through the swinging door.

“But they seem ni-i-i-ice,” she whined.

“They all seem nice,” said Eleanora over her shoulder, nodding at Manny as he took the dirty dishes and winked at her.

“But these two really are.”

Eleanora turned to face her younger cousin, pushing a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear and planting her fists on her hips. “Like the last ones? And the ones before them?”

Eve Marie had the decency to look embarrassed.

“When are you going to learn, Evie? They’re all rats. Rich, old, entitled, grabby rats. They come to Vail looking for a young waitress or hotel maid to warm up their bed for a week, and once they’ve had their fun, they leave. Do you know who they leave?”

“Us,” said Eve Marie dolefully.

“Us,” confirmed Eleanora. “And are we harlots to be thusly used?”

Eve Marie screwed up her face in confusion.

Eleanora rolled her eyes, rephrasing, “Are we hos, cuz?”

“No,” said Eve Marie, though there wasn’t much conviction in her voice.

“No, we are not,” said Eleanora crisply. “We deserve better than that, Evie.”

Images of home flashed through her mind at lightning speed before she could stop them: her father’s grubby double-wide, choked by a rusty chain-link fence . . . the hellhole of a bar where her tips hadn’t been worth the slow death of her dreams . . . and—she touched Evie’s cheek gently with her knuckles as a fierce burst of protectiveness flared within her—her step-uncle’s leering eyes and filthy, grabby hands.

Eleanora dropped her hand and lifted her chin with determination. “If we keep our legs closed and our options open, we just might find it.”

She turned to the warming lights and picked up two plates of pancakes and bacon for table two before bustling through the swinging door, back into Auntie Rose’s main dining room. Designed to resemble a rustic ski lodge, the restaurant was a favorite of skiers and snowboarders who wanted to fill up on a hearty breakfast before hitting the slopes.

“Will you at least, like, say hello?” persisted Eve Marie at her cousin’s shoulder, her voice almost drowned out by John Lennon’s “(Just Like) Starting Over” blasting through the ceiling speakers.

Eleanora ignored her cousin and plastered a smile on her face as she carefully delivered the plates to the table. “Stack of hot cakes, side of oink. Bon appétit.”

“Looks great,” said the man on the left side of the booth, reaching for her wrist. He handled her gently but firmly, looking up into her eyes. “Now how about making it delectable by giving me your number?”

Without fighting for her imprisoned hand, Eleanora flicked her eyes over him. He was wearing a cream-colored Irish wool sweater—the type that sold in the local boutiques for hundreds of dollars—and had sunglasses in his heavily gelled hair. Vuarnet? No. Versace, she noted, glancing at the stem close to his ear. His hair was salt-and-pepper, and his eyes were lazy but hopeful as he grinned at her with what he probably believed was charm.

“My number . . . hmm.” Eleanora sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, then released it with a provocative pop. “Sure. Okay.”

He looked surprised but delighted, tightening his grip on her wrist to pull her closer. “Oh, yeah?”

“But which number?” said Eleanora, tapping her chin in thought. “So many to choose from . . .”

“Oh, I meant your—”

“—my age? It’s twenty-two. To your what? Forty-five? Or the number of years between us? Roughly twenty-three. Or my birth date maybe? Nine, three, fifty-nine. And yours? Well, I’m guessing it ends in . . . hmm . . . thirty-six? How about those numbers? Probably not what you were looking for, though. Ooo! I know! Maybe you’re one of the good ones and you’ve fallen madly in love with me and you want my ring size? It’s a six. No. Come to think of it, you don’t look like the type to buy me a ring, so how about the serial number on my father’s shotgun? It’s four, three, six, oh, oh, seven—”

“Forget it,” said the man, his face bright red as he dropped her wrist.

“Sure thing.”

“You’re a bitch,” he muttered, looking up at her with narrowed, angry eyes.

“Maybe. But I’m not a chump,” she answered, ripping the bill from her pad and placing it on the table before turning on her white Keds and heading back toward the kitchen with Eve Marie at her heels.

TOM ENGLISH WATCHED the sassy little waitress make her way back across the bustling dining room, chuckling softly as he admired everything from the sharp way she’d taken down that dickweed to the way her tight ass swayed back and forth under the big white bow of her pink gingham dress.

“Wow!”

Pulling his eyes away from the waitress with a stab of regret, Tom looked across the table at his companion, Van, raising his eyebrows.

“Talk about sharp nails!” said Van.

Tom chuckled again, picking up his coffee cup and taking a sip of the strong brew.

Van sneered as his eyes tracked the blonde. “You couldn’t pay me enough to go out with a girl like that. I don’t care how hot she is. That guy had it right. Bitch on wheels!”

Tom’s grin faded as he placed his mug back on the table and looked up at his friend. “I don’t agree.”

Van scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Are you effing kidding me?”

Tom shifted his gaze back to the kitchen, hoping for another glimpse of her. “Nope. I thought she was fairly spectacular.”

“Fairly spectacular,” mumbled Van, grimacing as he shook his head. “Well, you’re not known for your taste in women. I hope to God she’s not the friend the cute brunette was referring to.”

Tom, on the other hand, desperately hoped she was because he had zero interest in the vacuous brunette, but that spitfire blonde? Oh, man. She was something different.

And he could sure use the distraction.

In just four days, Tom English was going to lose every cent of his fifteen million dollar inheritance, because his fiancée, Diantha Montgomery, of the Philadelphia Montgomerys, had run off with her ski instructor, leaving Tom high and dry the night before their wedding.

It’s not like he was heartbroken—he hadn’t been marrying Di for love. No, theirs had been an agreement, a marriage of convenience. Tom’s thirty-second birthday was in four days—on Christmas Eve—and unless he was married by the final day of his thirty-first year, his eccentric old codger of a grandfather would disown him. Tom had heard the lecture a thousand times:

A good woman makes a man honest, makes him work harder, makes him true. If you don’t have a good woman in your life by age thirty-two, you don’t deserve a cent and you won’t get a cent. I’m not letting some devil-may-care wastrel playboy squander my millions!

Diantha, more than happy to pocket a cool million in exchange for saying “I do,” had planned a lavish wedding in Vail, and they’d invited dozens of friends and family to witness the temporary nuptials. The plan was to stay married for a few months, secure Tom’s inheritance, and then get a quiet divorce and go their separate ways.

But when Di didn’t show up to her own rehearsal dinner last Friday, things didn’t look good. A tearstained note shoved under Tom’s hotel room door confirmed the rest: Paolo and I have fallen in love and decided to elope. We’re leaving for Italy tonight. I’m so sorry, T! Love, Di

While all the guests had returned home, Tom remained in Vail with his erstwhile best man and sometime investing partner, Edison Van Nostrand, for the week that should have been Tom’s honeymoon. Time had certainly flown by with Van as their entertainment coordinator—today was Friday and Tom’s birthday was Tuesday.

He shrugged and swallowed the rest of his coffee. If he was being cut off in four days, he may as well enjoy his last few days as a “devil-may-care wastrel playboy.”

Van had asked their waitress—whose nametag said “My Name is Eve Marie!”—to meet them at the bar of the Hotel Jerome tonight for some fun. The young waitress, checking out Van’s brand-new Rolex, snapped her gum and offered Van a sparkling smile as she promised to “do her best” to find a friend for Tom.

Van brightened suddenly, looking over Tom’s head with a lascivious grin. “Hey, angel, don’t break my friend’s heart and tell him your friend said no.”

Tom shifted in his chair to find Eve Marie standing behind him, wringing her hands nervously. She blew a small bubble with her gum and sucked it back quickly, snapping it between her teeth.

“Um . . . she’s not my friend; she’s my cousin.” She shifted her eyes from Van to Tom. “And she needs you to, like, answer a question first.”

“Me?”

The waitress nodded at Tom, her cheeks flushing. “Yeah. She’s, like, um, well . . . she needs to know your favorite book.”

Without skipping a beat, Tom asked, “Fiction or nonfiction?”

This question proved a bumpy road for Eve Marie, who froze, staring blankly at Tom.

“Which one,” he asked slowly, “do you think she wants to know?”

Eve Marie chewed once, then held up a single finger and hurried away. Tom watched her beeline to the feisty blonde (yes!), who was taking an order across the dining room. Tapping her cousin on the shoulder, Eve Marie cupped her hands around the blonde’s ear for a moment, then leaned back expectantly. A second later, she returned to Tom.

“Fiction. Ellie said fiction.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.”

Tom chuckled softly, nodding at Eve Marie, who sighed happily, like she’d finally done something right.

“My favorite book of fiction. Hmm . . .”

Glancing around Eve Marie, who was twirling a long strand of teased hair around her index finger as she chewed her gum and eye-fucked Van, Tom looked across the dining room at—what had Eve Marie called her? Ellie?—Ellie, who still had her back to him, writing on her pad. Pocketing the pad, she held out her hand and collected the menus.

When she turned around, her eyes slammed into his, almost like she’d known he was staring at her all along. With the menus pressed against her chest, she stared back at him for a long moment, her posture straight, her blue eyes keen and bright. When her lips wobbled just a little, he realized she was trying not to smile, and he suddenly felt his own lips lift into a grin. But that broke the spell they were under, and she dropped his eyes quickly, heading for the kitchen and disappearing behind the swinging door without a second glance.

He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until his lungs started to burn and he exhaled with a soft puff.

“Uh, Tom?” asked Van in a low voice, utterly captivated by gum-snapping, eye-fucking Eve Marie. “A book. Name a book. For the love of God, please name a book.”

Ellie seemed brighter than average—she was quick with numbers and interested in books—but she looked young too, which meant she’d be impressionable. He considered lying. He thought about saying A Clockwork Orange (to seem edgy), or The Catcher in the Rye (to seem deep). But in the end, something about those clear, blue, unsmiling eyes made him feel ashamed of even considering deception, and he heard “The Swiss Family Robinson” fall from his lips instead.

Eve Marie winked at Van before looking down at Tom with glistening lips and a sexy smile. “Hmm?”

“Tell her my favorite novel is The Swiss Family Robinson, and ask her the name of her favorite poet.”

“Uh . . .,” Eve Marie stared at him for a moment, then shrugged. “Okay. Be right back.”

She sauntered away toward the kitchen, and Van adjusted his pants, grimacing. “Fuck, she’s hot. How many hours is it until tonight?”

Tom looked at his watch. “About ten. But I assume you’re buying her dinner first, so more like ten and a half.”

“Fuck,” Van muttered again. “Dinner better buy some tail.”

On cue, Kenny Rogers started crooning “Lady” overhead, the lyrics Lady, I'm your knight in shining armor and I love you an ironic follow-up to Van’s comment.

“That’s real nice.”

Though, judging from Eve Marie’s come-hither glances, he doubted Van would have much trouble securing that tail. Him, on the other hand? He wasn’t so sure. Ellie didn’t look like a girl who put out as easily. Her appearance wasn’t contrived to seek attention—it didn’t appear that she wore makeup, and she kept her hair in a plain, tidy ponytail—and yet she was so naturally beautiful, every pair of male eyes in the room naturally gravitated toward her.

It felt like forever waiting for Eve Marie to return.

“So?” asked Tom, his anxious heart stuttering, hoping the little spitfire liked adventure fiction as much as he did.

“Elizabeth Burnett Browning,” said Eve Marie.

“Barrett,” he said reflexively.

“Huh?”

“Elizabeth Barrett Browning,” said Tom.

“That’s what I said.”

“No, you said—”

“So, we good?” interrupted Van, leaning across the table to give Tom a look that begged him to shut the fuck up and stop arguing with the waitress he was aching to bang.

“Um, no,” said Eve Marie, wrinkling her nose. “Now she needs to know your favorite nonfiction book too.”

“What the actual fuck?” exclaimed Van. “Is she a waitress or an English professor?”

Eve Marie turned away from Tom to look at Van with wide, innocent eyes. “A waitress. But she goes to college. At Colorado Mountain College over in Edwards.”

“Wow,” said Van sarcastically. “Colorado Mountain College! You don’t say!”

“I do say,” said Eve Marie earnestly. “She saves up her tips every month to pay for it. She’s, like, supersmart.”

“What does she study?” asked Tom, kicking Van under the table so he’d stop being an asshole.

“Bookkeeping,” said Eve Marie. “Because math is a . . . a . . . oh, I remember! A universal language.” Tom smiled at her, forcing himself not to give her a round of applause since she’d worked so hard for the answer. “But she also reads a lot of books. Ellie’s, like, always reading books. Since as long as I’ve known her, and that’s forever because I’m three years younger. It’s, like, her favorite thing to do.”

“Too bad partying isn’t her favorite,” said Van under his breath.

“Nope. That’s my favorite,” said Eve Marie, arching her back provocatively as she slid her gaze to Van.

Van chuckled, nodding at her with appreciation before glancing at his friend. “So, Tom, what’s your all-time favorite nonfiction tome, huh?”

Tom glanced at the kitchen door, wishing Ellie would come out for a second. He’d like to look into her eyes again. He’d like to see her reaction as he answered The Joy of Sex or A Moveable Feast or . . .

He looked up at Eve Marie and grinned.

“Tell her if she wants to know my favorite nonfiction book, she has to be my date tonight.”

CHAPTER 2

Eleanora didn’t know what had prompted her to play the What’s Your Favorite Book? game with the man at Auntie Rose’s this morning, but as she and Evie walked to the Hotel Jerome at seven thirty, she had to admit that she was looking forward to this evening a lot more than the others set up by her cousin.

The Swiss Family Robinson, while not Eleanora’s favorite book, was a good, honest choice, and she was curious about why he loved it. She also appreciated that he’d volleyed back, asking about her favorite poet, and she’d wondered all afternoon if he had a favorite too. Maybe tonight—instead of awkwardly sipping a club soda and leaving after an hour—she’d actually have a date worth talking to. Now wouldn’t that be a nice turn of events?

Evie pushed through the revolving door of the hotel and walked confidently to the bar. She was familiar with all the local hotel bars, a fact that made Eleanora grimace, but she couldn’t fault her cousin either. Eleanora had chosen an education as her way of bettering her life; Evie was on the fast track to love, albeit via lots and lots of quasi-anonymous sex.

“Evie,” she said, placing her hand on her cousin’s shoulder and making her turn around. “You don’t have to sleep with him.”

Evie shrugged her older cousin’s hand away. “Ellie, I’m not smart like you.”

Undeterred, Eleanora threaded her fingers through Evie’s thick, dark hair, gently tucking a strand behind her ear. “You’re sweet. And young. I worry about you.”

“You’re young, too,” Evie said, her tone holding a reminder. Whenever Eleanora hinted about Evie’s promiscuous ways, Evie countered that her cousin just didn’t know how to have fun. She tilted her head to the side, grinning at Eleanora, her face bright and fearless. “Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

Then she strode into the hotel bar, leaving Eleanora to stand in the doorway on her own for a moment. The two men who’d been sitting together at Auntie Rose’s several hours earlier were settled into a booth at the back, and rose as Evie approached.

The brunet, a man named Van, had already been claimed by Evie, so Eleanora looked more closely at her own date: he had a mop of sandy-blond hair and a neat mustache and wore a white button-down shirt with a tan corduroy blazer. He glanced over Evie’s head and caught sight of Eleanora, a pleased smile taking over the entire real estate of his face. It was a good smile—confident and kind, interested and warm, flirtatious without being grabby. And beautiful, she thought, unable to look away from him as she made her way closer. So very, very beautiful.

“This is my cousin, Ellie,” said Evie, accepting a kiss on the cheek from Van, then shimmying into the maroon leather cocktail booth beside him.

“I’m Tom,” said the blond man, still holding Eleanora’s eyes. “Tom English.”

He didn’t lean forward to kiss her, which she appreciated. It saved her the trouble of jerking back and creating an awkward moment. Instead, he held out his hand, and she saw it was wrapped in a white bandage she hadn’t noticed earlier.

“You hurt yourself today, Tom,” she murmured, taking his hand and pumping it very gently.

“A minor ski accident. I sprained my wrist on Devil’s Dash.” He chuckled with a low burr of pleasure as his fingers tightened around hers. “I’ll be okay, Ellie, but thanks for worrying about me.”

“Eleanora,” she said. “My name isn’t really Ellie—that’s just what Evie calls me. My name is Eleanora Watters.”

He didn’t drop her hand. He didn’t test out her name. He just grinned at her and nodded. “Okay.”

“Ahem,” said Van, and Eleanora dropped Tom’s hand quickly, her face flushing as she looked down at Tom’s friend. He had his arm draped around Evie’s shoulders, his fingers dangling directly over her cousin’s breasts, which heaved under a light pink angora sweater that covered her uniform. “Are we having drinks or what?”

Tom gestured to the booth, and Eleanora slid in next to her cousin, unwrapping her scarf and unbuttoning her coat but keeping it on. Van ordered a bottle of Asti Spumante, then leaned close to Evie and said something that made her blush and giggle. Eleanora rolled her eyes and turned to look at Tom.

“So . . .”

“So . . .,” he said, tenting his hands on the table. “Elizabeth Barrett Browning.”

“Yes.” Eleanora grinned at him, leaning one elbow on the table and shifting to face him. “I love her. She’s so honest.”

“And passionate,” he added, searching her eyes thoughtfully. “Though I confess I didn’t appreciate her as much as I should have when I studied her in college.”

“Were you an English major?”

“I was.”

“Where did you go?” she asked.

“Princeton.”

Eleanora whistled low.

“You’ve heard of it?”

“Sure. You know Brooke Shields? From the movie Endless Love? She gave an interview on The Tonight Show and said she wants to go to Princeton someday.” She swallowed, feeling a little silly, but pressing on. “So I looked it up.”

“And . . .?” he prompted, grinning at her in a way that melted any self-consciousness.

“What’s not to love?”

“Your cousin said you go to college locally.”

“Mm-hm.” She nodded. “At Colorado Mountain College. It’s hardly Princeton.”

“It’s still college,” he said, sliding a glass of sparkling wine over to her. He held up his own glass, and Eleanora did the same. “To college. And to Elizabeth Barrett Browning.”

As they sipped the sweet white wine, Eleanora felt a strange fluttering in her tummy and tried, somewhat unsuccessfully, to ignore it.

By and large, these dates were gruesome—some rich boy who wanted to get laid putting his arm around her and trying to pass off nonstop innuendo as conversation. She went for Evie’s sake, in an attempt to look after her younger cousin, so that Evie didn’t look all alone in the world.

But Tom English seemed different. He seemed, as Evie had indicated this morning, genuinely nice. He seemed interested in more than getting her upstairs; he was talking to her about books and college. And he was so handsome, she couldn’t stop staring at him.

“What are your plans for Christmas?” she asked. “Staying here in Vail?”

“No, I’ll be headed back to Philly for Christmas.”

“Just here for a few days of skiing, huh?”

Her cheeks flushed hot as she heard the noise of sloppy kisses directly behind her and she braced herself for what was coming. Any minute her cousin would abandon her, and no matter how nice he seemed, when Tom English realized that she wouldn’t be putting out like Evie, he’d make some excuse for why they should call it a night. And she’d be left to walk home alone, again, to her cold apartment, worried about her cousin and wishing that someone, somewhere, would see beyond the waitress uniform and want to get to know her.

“No, actually,” said Tom, glancing down at his wineglass, running his index finger lazily around the rim. “I was here for . . .”

“For what?”

“To get married, actually. I got stood up.”

He looked up at her then, his eyes clear and blue, unapologetic and unhurt, and that’s when she felt it in her gut: she didn’t care that he was older or that she was his social inferior in every possible way. She desperately hoped that right here, right now, Tom English would want to get to know her.

TOM WASN’T sure what had prompted him to be so honest with her.

Maybe it was that she sat so straight, her eyes cautious, her coat still on, her blonde hair in a neat, simple ponytail, smelling faintly of maple syrup and pancakes whenever she moved her head. She was nothing like her cousin, who had one hand in Van’s lap and the other raking through his scalp as they kissed noisily across the booth. Eleanora seemed like a lady—smart and pretty. No, she wasn’t an East Coast debutante like Diantha or the other girls Tom had grown up with, but there was something honest and thoughtful about Eleanora Watters, and Tom hoped she wouldn’t run off the moment her cousin headed upstairs with Van. He—rather desperately—hoped she’d stay and talk to him.

Van cleared his throat loudly, his voice raspy when he spoke. “I, uh, I think I left something in my room.”

“I’ll help you find it,” said Eve Marie, jumping up to follow him.

In a flash, Van and Eve Marie were gone, leaving Tom and Eleanora with four mostly full glasses of sickeningly sweet wine and a painfully awkward silence. Would she suddenly run away without the buffer of her cousin sitting beside her? It was surprisingly and unexpectedly painful to think of losing his chance to get to know her better.

Without thinking, he reached out and grabbed her hand. “Stay and talk. That’s all. Don’t—don’t go yet.”

Her face—her very lovely face—turned to him, her pink rosebud lips tilting up in a sweet smile. She searched his face, gently pulling her hand away when she replied, “I’ll stay a little longer.”

It occurred to Tom that he should stop staring at her, but he couldn’t. It was the first time she’d smiled at him, and his heart thundered from the way it made him feel to see her face light up. She was young and bright and ridiculously beautiful, and he’d been captivated from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her.

“A Moveable Feast,” he said softly, memorizing the unusual blue color of her eyes, a blue somewhere between cornflower and lavender. “By Ernest Hemingway. That’s my favorite nonfiction book. What’s yours?”

“How to Win Friends & Influence People,” she said. “By Dale Carnegie.”

“What?” A soft laugh escaped before he could stop it. “Really?” She nodded, grinning at him. “Uh-huh. I’ve read it at least six times.”

“Amazing,” he murmured softly. “Why?”

“Besides the fact that it’s a good book?” she asked, with a hint of that sass he liked so much. “Well, I hope it’ll be helpful one day.”

“One day when?”

“When I start my own business,” she said quietly, reaching for her wineglass and taking a tiny sip.

“What kind of business?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know yet. I don’t—it’s a long way away. Really, it’s just a silly dream probably.”

He searched her eyes, wondering why it wasn’t more than a silly dream. She was going to college. She was obviously bright. His eyes slid to her threadbare, outdated coat and the cheap, plastic-looking pocketbook on the seat beside her. Money. She had none, or very little. And opening businesses took more than education and smarts. It took money.

She tilted her head to the side. “Why, um . . . I mean, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

“Nope. Go for it.”

“Were you kidding about getting married?”

“No.”

“Well, I mean . . . it’s just that you don’t seem very upset.”

“Well, it’s inconvenient,” he confessed. “But no, I’m not upset. I wasn’t in love with her.”

Eleanora sat back, her eyebrows furrowing, her smile fading. “What?”

“I didn’t . . . I mean, we weren’t in love with each other. That’s the truth.”

“Then why were you marrying her?”

“You can marry people for reasons other than love,” he said, feeling a little defensive.

“Like what?”

“Like . . . I’m about to lose my inheritance.” She stared at him, her face expressionless, her eyes rapt. “My grandfather, he’s, well, he’s a control freak, in addition to being crazy and old-fashioned. He has this theory that a good woman makes a man, well, a good man. So he promised to cut me off by my thirty-second birthday if I wasn’t married to a good woman. And I mean, I’ve dated a lot of girls, but I just haven’t met, you know, the one.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You believe in the one?”

“Everyone believes in the one, whether they admit it or not.”

“Go on.”

In for a penny, in for a pound. He might as well tell her everything. “Diantha is an old friend. She agreed to marry me before I turned thirty-two so that I could secure my inheritance. Our plan was to get a quiet divorce this summer.”

“Huh,” she said, taking another sip of wine. “When’s your birthday?”

“Tuesday.”

“Four-days-from-now Tuesday?”

“That’s the one.”

“You were born on Christmas Eve,” she said.

He nodded, pouring himself another glass of wine.

“What was her cut?” asked Eleanora.

It was the last thing he expected her to ask. “Wh-what?”

“I assume you were cutting her in? Since your—” She cleared her throat. “—your marriage was little more than a business transaction?”

“Yeah. Okay.” He chuckled softly, nodding at her with grudging admiration for her candor. “Yeah. I was cutting her in. I would get fourteen million. I promised her one. Not that it matters now because—”

“One million dollars.”

“Yeah, but she didn’t—”

“One million dollars,” she repeated.

He nodded. “Yep. But—”

“I’ll do it.”

Tom’s head jerked back as he stared at her in shock. “What? You’ll do what?”

“I’ll marry you for a million dollars.”

Laughter bubbled up inside him, and he let it rip for several seconds until he realized she wasn’t joking. She was staring at him unblinkingly, her hands folded on the table as if they were working out a business deal at a conference room table.

“You’re serious.”

“I don’t joke about money.”

He chuckled, this time nervously. When she didn’t join him, his grin faded. She was completely serious.

“I don’t think you understand. It was an arrangement, and yes, I was giving her a portion of my inheritance, but Diantha was actually planning to marry me. Our families have known one another for ages, and we’d been friends since grade school. Everyone believed that we’d started dating last summer and fallen in love. It took some planning, you know?”

She didn’t say a word, just stared back at him, her eyes owl-like in their intensity.

“I don’t even know you. My family doesn’t know you. We just met twenty minutes ago.” He tried to keep his voice gentle wondering why he cared so much about hurting her feelings. “I just don’t think it would work.”

“You don’t think I could pull it off,” said Eleanora candidly.

Tom shifted in his seat, placing his arm along the back of the booth between them and facing her.

Her blonde hair was natural, and her face was pretty. He didn’t know if she’d had braces or just been blessed with good teeth, but he suspected the latter. She was trim and bright and interesting, but . . .

His eyes slipped to the collar of her uniform, then to her chewed-up nails, and finally to her white tights and sneakers. She was a “breakfast-all-day” waitress from Colorado, not a viable contender for the wife of Thomas Andrews English. She wouldn’t last a minute in Main Line society, and more important, his grandfather would see right through her.

As his gaze skated up to her face, he found her eyes glistening, but she lifted her chin proudly. “Forget it. It’s a completely ridiculous idea. I . . . I’m going to go.”

She started sliding around the booth to escape him, but that strange feeling of desperation encroached again, and Tom stood up quickly to move around the table and block her way. He squatted down, looking up at her. “Wait. Just . . . please. This got weird so fast. We can still talk and there’s wine and—”

She swallowed, shaking her head and pulling her coat more snugly around her. “No, thanks. I feel really foolish. It was an absurd suggestion.”

“Not absurd, just . . . unrealistic. No one will buy it. They all believed I was in love with Di. They all think I was just stood up by her.”

“I get it,” she whispered, still looking down at her lap. “Please let me go now.”

“What would you do with it?” he asked softly. “The million?”

She relaxed a little, lifting her eyes to his. “I’d buy Evie a nice little apartment here so that she’d feel secure and stop—well, you know—hooking up with random men. And then I’d go to college somewhere like Princeton. Like you and Brooke Shields.”

“And then?”

“I’d buy a business . . . or start my own.”

“What kind?”

“I don’t know. I know how to waitress, so maybe a restaurant. Although what I’d really love is a bookstore. Or a chain of bookstores maybe. And also . . .” Her voice took on a slight edge, and she averted her eyes. “I’d knock down the library in my hometown and have another one built. A good one. A better one.”

Because it saved you. The thought tiptoed across his mind, and he knew, in his gut, it was true.

He knew what Diantha had planned to do with the money: she would have financed a new wardrobe, buy a convertible Ferrari, and rent a villa in Monaco for a year. But Eleanora? She’d buy herself a whole new life. A better life. And suddenly, more than his own inheritance, more than anything else on earth, Tom wanted her to have that chance.

“We’d have to go to Vegas,” he said quickly before he could rethink it.

Her neck whipped up, her eyes wide and surprised as she searched his face.

“Vegas?”

“There’s nowhere else we could get married so quickly.”

Her lips wobbled, but she kept them from turning up.

“Vegas,” she murmured.

He nodded. “Tonight. So we could be married tomorrow. That would at least give us the weekend to get to know each other.”

She tilted her head to the side and finally let her lips spread into a smile. “Are you serious?”

“Are you?”

“You think we can pull it off?”

No. “I have no clue.” He shrugged, grinning at her like a stupid fool. “Want to give it a try?”

“I . . .” Her shoulders trembled, and she giggled, still staring up at him. “You’re a decade older than I am.”

“I don’t care if you don’t.”

“You’re rich and classy, and I’m . . . a waitress.”

“I think you’re more than that.”

“I’ve never been outside of Colorado.”

“Maybe it’s time to broaden your horizons.”

“You’re really serious,” she breathed.

“Think of it as an adventure.” He stared into her eyes, prying one of the hands on her lap into his and weaving their fingers together. “Eleanora Watters, will you marry me for a little while?”

She beamed at him, nodding slowly at first and then faster and faster, her slim fingers gripping his tightly as her cheeks turned pink and her eyes sparkled like a million white lights at Christmastime. “Why not?”

CHAPTER 3

A s the private plane left the tiny Vail airport, headed for Las Vegas, Eleanora trembled with fear and misgivings. Fear because she’d never been on an airplane before; misgivings because she was headed to Las Vegas to marry a complete and total stranger.

Sitting beside Eve Marie, she closed her eyes and tried to take a few deep, calming breaths, but her cousin wouldn’t shut up.

“I mean, look at this plane! It’s, like, the most beautiful place I’ve ever been in my whole life, and that lady gave us Champagne, Ellie. Champagne! The real stuff. Can you believe it?” She lowered her voice a little. “Are you crazy? Or drunk? Please tell me you’re drunk. Why are you marrying him? It’s not like you’re pregnant! Are you? No, that’s impossible. Oh my God, these seats. They’re real leather, Ellie. Real leather. Do you know how much this plane probably costs? I don’t. Are you going to sleep with him? What if he’s bad in bed? Then you’re stuck with him for life. Maybe you should have tested the goods first. Sweet Jesus, are those Godivas?”

The stewardess held out a gold box filled with delicate-looking chocolates, and Evie took four. Eleanora’s stomach, which wouldn’t stop flipping over, forced her to decline.

She’d already told Evie three times—once when she and Tom interrupted Evie and Van in Van’s hotel room, again while they packed their suitcases in the small shared bedroom of their apartment, and again right before liftoff—that while she was marrying Tom, she wasn’t really marrying him. It was a temporary marriage; it was just an agreement, an agreement of convenience, the outcome of which would hopefully change Eleanora’s life for the better.

Was she going to sleep with him? No.

She straightened her neck and looked over the seat in front of her, catching a quick glimpse of Tom, who sat across from Van, staring out the window. His blond hair tumbled over his forehead, and he rubbed his chin with his index finger as Van flirted shamelessly with the stewardess.

Absolutely not.

Although, in fairness, she was positive he wouldn’t be bad in bed.

And with that thought, hidden muscles deep inside her body flexed and held, telling her they wouldn’t mind finding out.

He was handsome. Sinfully handsome. But Eleanora had met many handsome men since she and Evie moved to Vail. What set Tom English apart was the way he’d looked at her when he said, “We’d have to go to Vegas”—like he was willing to take a chance on her, like she was somehow worth the chance he was taking.

Eleanora’s mother had run out on them when she was five, and her father, who was a functioning alcoholic, had done his best with four kids, but there was very little time left for little Eleanora, who always had her nose in a book anyway. She’d only heard from him twice since leaving home three years ago with Eve Marie, who’d actually been their reason for leaving: her new stepfather was paying the sixteen-year-old way too much unwanted attention, and Eve Marie had confessed her fears to Eleanora. They’d hitchhiked to Vail, lied about Eve Marie’s age, found jobs as waitresses at Auntie Rose’s and used Eleanora’s meager savings for a shabby one-bedroom apartment.

Enrolling herself in college courses had taken courage, but Eleanora had read enough books to know that the best way out of poverty was an education, and though she knew she’d likely be in her late thirties before her dreams took shape, at least she had dreams, and at least she was trying to make them come true.

And then Tom English had walked into her life, and suddenly she had the chance to fast-track her dreams.

She peeked over the seat again, and he looked up just in time to catch her eyes, locking his with hers. His mustache twitched a little as his lips quirked into a grin, and Eleanora’s heart took off at a gallop, her own smile answering his. He lifted his Champagne glass and toasted her, his gaze never leaving hers as he tilted his head back and let the Champagne bubbles slide down his throat. Suppressing a whimper, Eleanora hunched down, turning to Evie, who was still rhapsodizing and scolding her older cousin in an unbridled stream of scattered, enthusiastic thought.

TOM CHUCKLED SOFTLY, watching her blonde head disappear back behind the seat.

She reminded him a little of a gopher, looking over at him with those wide, liquid eyes before ducking back down.

“You think your gramps is going to buy this?” asked Van, checking out the stewardess’s ass as she headed back to the galley.

“I don’t know,” answered Tom honestly. “Can’t hurt to try, though. What’s the worst he can do?” “Disown you,” said Van.

“Like I said, can’t hurt to try.”

Van’s eyes were uncharacteristically serious when he asked, “What if she tries to get her hooks in you?”

“Who? Eleanora?”

“Yeah.”

Not that Tom would necessarily mind having her hooks in him right this minute, but he appreciated that Van’s question was sensible. “We’ll have to sign something in Vegas. Something about her getting a million and me getting a divorce.”

“I’ll draw it up,” said Van, who rarely used his law degree, though it certainly came in handy at times. “She’s cute. I’ll give you that. Maybe you can sample the goodies before you say sayonara.”

Van turned to the window and closed his eyes while Tom straightened up to get another look at Eleanora. Cute? Nah. She was stunning. She was the hottest girl he’d ever seen. He stared at her blonde head unobserved, and a thought took over his brain: temporary nuptials or not, she deserved a nice decent wedding. Not some five-dollar cheesefest at an Elvis chapel, but something decent, something she could remember fondly after they’d gotten their money and said their goodbyes.

Taking a notebook out of the briefcase he’d stowed under the seat in front of him, he started a list that he didn’t complete until they began their descent into Las Vegas.

“I’M sure you’ll have everything you need,” said Tom, grinning at Eleanora as he walked the cousins to their room at the Imperial Palace, the newest and best hotel on the Strip. “But if you don’t, just call downstairs. They’ll charge anything you need to me.”

Not knowing what she could possibly need, she nodded at him, chancing a glance behind her to find Evie and Van making out in the hallway a ways back. She paused at her hotel room door, holding the key in her hand and turning around to look at Tom.

“Why are you doing this?”

He shrugged. “I was fairly certain that my inheritance was a lost cause. You made me wonder if I shouldn’t give it one last chance.”

Guilt embraced her. As much as Tom English’s million dollars would help her start a whole new life, she felt mercenary taking his money for something as simple as saying “I do” once or twice at a sham wedding. Perhaps he had plans for the fifteen million. “Do you need it? The money?”

“Not really, I guess. I have a good education. I work with my father at my grandfather’s financial firm, English & Son, but I could find another job at a different bank if I needed to.” He flattened his hand against the wall by her door, caging her on two sides, and she fought the impulse to step into him. “But life will be easier with the money. More doors will stay open to me if I stay on at my family’s firm. And . . .”

His eyes flickered as they stared into hers.

“And . . .?”

Did his cheeks flush a little, or was that her imagination?

He shrugged again. “I like it that you’ll be able to chase your dream sooner than later. Buy your bookstores. Build a library. Go to Princeton. I could help you with that, you know.” His grin brightened his whole face. “Funny thing, my great-great grandfather built the library there. Just say the word, and I’ll make a few calls.”

Her eyes had watered as he confessed that he wanted to help her. She wasn’t the type of girl who’d had much help in life—no lucky breaks, no windfalls, no happy twists of fate. Not until Tom English had walked into her life.

And suddenly she heard herself whisper, “You’re something between a dream and a miracle.”

His eyes—his warm, kind eyes—widened suddenly, heating up and darkening as he took a step toward her.

“E-Elizabeth Barrett Browning wrote that,” she said quickly. “I didn’t make that up. I borrowed it.”

“Barrett,” said Tom, reaching out to touch her cheek with his fingertips, the touch as soft as breath. “Not Burnett.”

Leaning into his touch, she looked into his eyes and grinned curiously, uncertain of his meaning.

“Your cousin said ‘Burnett’ this morning,” he explained, grinning back at her.

“Oh,” she whispered, chuckling softly. “Yes. Barrett.”

His thumb swiped gently over her bottom lip, and Eleanora’s breath caught. She wondered if he’d dip his head and kiss her. She hoped he would. Oh God, had she ever wanted anything more? “You’re the dream,” he said softly, staring deeply into her eyes.

“Tom . . .,” she sighed, taking another step toward him, the front of her sweater grazing the nubby tan corduroy of his jacket.

Suddenly he shook his head like he was coming out of a trance and took a step back, dropping his hand. She watched him fist it by his side, then flex his fingers, spreading them as though in punishment.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he muttered.

Then he turned and walked away.

His name lingered on the tip of her tongue as she watched him stalk away, his legs long in dark jeans, his shoulders hunched forward. As he passed Van and Evie, he stopped and whispered something by Van’s ear that caused his friend to break away from Evie, give her a quick hug, and follow Tom down the hall toward the elevator. Eleanora watched until they were out of sight, then shifted her gaze to Evie.

“Someone’s in a pissy mood,” her cousin observed, hurrying down the hall. “I guess you didn’t invite him in, huh?”

I would have, thought Eleanora, steadying her trembling fingers and working the key into the lock. “I think he was . . . just tired. Or something.”

“Or something, all right. He practically growled at Van to join him for a drink downstairs.”

Eleanora twisted the key and reached down for her suitcase, pushing the door open and feeling along the wall for a light switch. Evie tumbled into the room behind her, knocking into Eleanora, who was frozen in place.

Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out on the Strip, and because of the mirrors on the walls and ceilings, it gave the illusion that the room was decorated in twinkle lights. It was like being inside a jewelry box, she thought, sighing in appreciation. She stepped down two carpeted stairs into the large bedroom suite, which held two queen-size beds, a sofa, and a table with two chairs, not stopping until her fingers gingerly touched the massive plates of glass.

“Wow!”

Eleanora looked over her shoulder at Evie, whose mouth gaped in wonder.

“Oh, Ellie!” said Evie, approaching the first of two beds, then looking up at Eleanora with a beaming smile. “Look!”

Draped across the bed was a white gown covered in clear dry cleaning plastic.

“It’s a wedding dress! Try it on, Ellie!”

Eleanora crossed the room slowly, her eyes glued to the beautiful dress. She carefully slid the plastic up and lifted the hanger from the bed. The dress was strapless and calf length, made entirely of white lace, except for a pale blue sash around the waist. It was, hands down, the most beautiful dress Eleanora had ever seen.

“There’s a card!”

Evie picked up a white envelope from the bedspread and held it out to her cousin.

With trembling hands, Eleanora opened the envelope and read aloud, “Every bride deserves a wedding dress. Thank you for marrying me tomorrow. Tom.”

Evie fell back on the other bed, hands pressed over her heart, sighing dramatically. “I wish I’d gone for him! He’s utterly dreamy, Ellie!”

Just then, the doorbell rang, and Evie leaped up. Hoping it was Tom, come back to kiss her good night, Eleanora rushed to the stairs, only to find a bellhop wheeling in a table covered with a white tablecloth. On it, there was a silver ice bucket with a bottle of Champagne, two glasses, and a platter of chocolate-covered strawberries.

“Here, miss?” asked the young man, carrying the table down the two stairs and wheeling it beside the windows.

“F-fine,” stammered Eleanora, holding Tom’s card to her breasts as she watched the bellhop slide the chairs from the room table to the linen-covered table.

“He asked me to say, ‘Welcome to Las Vegas, Watters cousins. If there’s anything you need, the Imperial—and Tom English—are at your command.’” He grinned at them, eyebrows raised, and Eleanora realized that he was waiting for instruction.

“Um. Oh, well . . . thank you. We’re fine. We’re great. N-no commands just now.”

“Very good. Enjoy!”

He sped toward the door, opened and closed it, leaving the girls alone.

Evie turned around in slow motion to face Eleanora, her eyes wide as saucers, then started jumping up and down and clapping, racing over to the table by the windows and begging to pop the cork.

Caught up in the excitement of the moment, Eleanora shrugged and giggled, “Go ahead!” and a moment later the cork flew across the room. And the unlucky Watters cousins were suddenly the luckiest girls in the world, sitting on top of Las Vegas, sampling chocolate-covered strawberries for the first time in their lives, and marveling at the kindness of Eleanora’s temporary intended.

CHAPTER 4

T  om left a message that Eleanora and Evie were to meet him and Van in the lobby at one o’clock the next afternoon. First they needed to go to the Regional Justice Center to secure a marriage license, and then they could head to the Wee Kirk o’the Heather Wedding Chapel, which Tom had reserved for a three o’clock ceremony. A busy afternoon.

And frankly, Tom would have been looking forward to seeing her again if his head wasn’t pounding like someone kept swinging at his skull with a sledgehammer. Slumped in a lobby chair, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d drunk so damn much or felt so completely awful the next day. At least Van didn’t look much better.

“I should have said no to the second bottle,” griped Van, his head resting on the back of a low, brightly colored floral chair. “But you were so pissed off, and the first bottle made you so much more . . . pleasant.”

Tom groaned, staring up at the ceiling, where a multifaceted crystal chandelier made his head ache even worse. He fished his sunglasses from the pocket of his short-sleeved white dress shirt and put them on. Better. Not much, but better.

“And why the hell I made that promise to keep you from knocking on her door, I’ll never know, but you owe me your firstborn as payment. I have bruises all over my body from keeping you off the tenth floor last night. I think I missed my calling as a linebacker.”

Tom winced, wishing it wasn’t true, but it was.

He didn’t remember much from last night, but he definitely remembered Van physically sitting on him to keep him from waking up Eleanora to “get to know her better.”

“Sorry,” he rasped. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Have I mentioned that I think this whole thing is a risky, shitty idea?”

“Yeah,” muttered Tom. “Multiple times.”

“I’m not even sure a notarized prenup will hold up in court. It hasn’t been filed.”

“Doesn’t matter,” said Tom. “I’m still doing it.”

“I hope you at least get fucked,” said Van, quickly adding, “You know, in the good way.”

“Shut up, Van.”

Van leaned back in his chair again and sighed loudly to mark his disapproval. He needn’t have bothered. Tom already knew that he was in trouble.

It was bad enough that he was marrying a complete stranger. On top of it, he was wildly attracted to his temporary child–bride, and now, in some warped, pathetic, predictable, cautionary-tale twist of fate, he’d actually started falling for her too. Somewhere between watching her tell off that asswipe at Auntie Rose’s, swapping favorite books, drinking Asti Spumante, and ending up in Vegas, thirty-one-year-old Tom English had let twenty-two-year-old Eleanora Watters get under his skin.

He scrunched his eyes shut under his sunglasses and shook his head. It was so clichéd, it made his stomach flip over with disgust, and yet . . . there it was, deep in his gut: he liked her. He liked her more than he’d ever liked, well, anyone.

Not that it mattered.

Because today was just a means to an end: get married, secure his inheritance, and get a divorce. He wasn’t interested in messing up her plan to go to college and open a business, and fuck knew she wasn’t an appropriate choice, on any level, for the wife of Tom English. Aside from the gaping decade age difference between them, they were incompatible in every possible way, right? Right.

But while such clearheaded thinking should have squelched Tom’s infatuation, it didn’t. He felt like a lovesick teenager when he remembered the way she’d looked at him when she murmured, “You’re something between a dream and a miracle.” His heart had doubled in size as he stared down at her face, stroking her soft, twenty-something skin, while his mind had fantasized about every filthy thing he’d like to do to her in bed.

Damn it.

He’d been so furious with himself, he’d grabbed Van and made his friend help him polish off a bottle of Dewar’s before ordering another.

Fuck.

“Tom?”

And fuck again.

Because he would have known her voice anywhere, and he was reminded of a line from Romeo and Juliet: “My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound: Art thou not Romeo and a Montague?”

Nope. She’s Eleanora. And almost an English.

He opened his eyes, and they instantly widened, his fingers moving to the stem by his ear to pull his glasses off his face. His head stopped aching as he rose slowly to his feet, never taking his eyes off her.

If he was a goner before, now he had one foot in the grave.

She was stunning. She was heartbreakingly, mind-bendingly, gorgeously, stupendously beautiful.

“You got the dress,” he murmured.

“I love it,” she answered, grinning up at him, her face a mix of pleasure and shyness.

She’d curled her long blonde hair into soft waves that fell past her shoulders, pinned over one ear and secured with a white blossom. Her skin was luminous, and her eyelashes were dark and long, framing the loveliest blue eyes he’d ever seen. Dropping his gaze to her lips, he felt his body tighten in response to the glossy pink pillows he found there. He stared at her as they formed his name.

“Tom?” she prompted.

He cleared his throat and jerked his eyes to hers. “Yeah, uh, the dress looks . . . I mean, I’m glad it fits. You look . . .” He may as well be honest with her. His voice dropped lower and sounded gravelly in his ears. “. . . stunning.”

“Told you, Ellie,” said Eve Marie from behind her, nudging her cousin’s arm with a simple bouquet of calla lilies and looking up at Tom. “We charged the flowers to you.”

“That’s fine.”

Van finally stood up, huffing loudly to draw Tom’s attention.

“Last chance,” he mouthed over the cousins’ heads.

Tom looked back down at Eleanora’s expectant face.

Too late.

THE CHAPEL TOM had reserved wasn’t at all what Eleanora had expected for her impromptu Vegas wedding. Honestly, she had cringed inside at the thought of an Elvis impersonator officiating—but then, Tom was surprising her at every turn. The Wee Kirk o’the Heather Wedding Chapel, though situated beside a gas station on the Strip, was surprisingly traditional inside.

Once they arrived via limo, Eleanora was quickly whisked away by a wedding coordinator, while Tom, Eve Marie, and Van were shown into the chapel. She waited in the vestibule just outside the sanctuary, her hands sweating around the bouquet of flowers Evie had ordered, her breathing quick and choppy.

Even though he barely knew her, Tom had done everything possible to make today special for her, and Eleanora couldn’t help but be deeply touched by his kindness.

Unlike other little girls who dreamed about the man they’d eventually marry at their perfect fairy-tale wedding, Eleanora Watters hadn’t indulged in such fantasies. All three of her older siblings had children, but none was married, and while Eleanora had attended the wedding of Evie’s mother to her second and third husbands, she didn’t have any fond memories of the events.

Most of Eleanora’s ideas about love and weddings came from the books she’d read and the movies she’d watched, though she was enough of a realist to separate fact from fiction and recognize that such fanciful notions would probably never apply to her and her life.

And yet . . .

Here was Tom English, the very epitome of a rich, handsome, fairy-tale prince, treating her with kindness, looking at her with those hot, dark eyes, and touching her face like she was, somehow, already precious to him.

“Are we ready, dear?”

Eleanora nodded at the wedding coordinator, and the older woman knocked twice on the closed double doors in front of them. Instantly, the wedding march sounded from inside the chapel, the doors magically opened, and Eleanora walked down the aisle toward Tom.

IF HE’D THOUGHT her beautiful in the lobby of the Imperial Palace, here, in a tiny Vegas chapel, walking toward him in white with a sweet smile, she looked almost angelic.

She handed her bouquet to Eve Marie, and Tom raised his hands so she could take them, her small fingers threading effortlessly through his.

“You sure you want to do this?” he whispered once the music ended.

Her smile grew a little bigger, and she nodded at him, giving him the same words she’d said when she accepted his proposal. “Why not?”

“Okay,” he said, grinning back at her before turning to the officiant. “I guess we’re ready.”

He’d paid for the basic wedding package. No Elvis. No silliness. No cheesy tomfoolery. Just the vows necessary to pronounce them husband and wife, and a dozen posed photos after the service. Why he’d sprung for the photos, he wasn’t sure—he’d checked the box before giving it a lot of thought. She could throw them away later if she didn’t want them.

“Then let’s begin.”

Tom nodded, then looked back at Eleanora, whose fingers tightened around his as the older gentleman started speaking.

“Friends, we are gathered here today to join Thomas English and Eleanora Watters in marriage. At Tom’s request, I will begin this ceremony with some words by Elizabeth Barrett Browning.”

Eleanora’s eyes widened for a just a moment before she tilted her head to the side, smiling up at him with wonder.

The officiant read in a clear voice: “An excerpt from a letter to Robert Browning, from his wife, Elizabeth: You cannot guess what you are to me—you cannot—it is not possible:—and though I have said that before, I must say it again . . . for it comes again to be said. It is something to me between dream and miracle, all of it—as if some dream of my earliest brightest dreaming-time had been lying through these dark years to steep in the sunshine, returning to me in a double light. Can it be, I say to myself, that you feel for me so? can it be meant for me? . . . Could it be that heart and life were devastated to make room for you?”

“They leave the ground fallow before the wheat,” she murmured, her intelligent eyes glistening and yet somehow severe as she stared up at him. “How in the world did you—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he whispered, his heart throbbing with tenderness for her.

It had taken the hotel concierge hours and hours—and a couple hundred dollars—working with a lady at the Spring Valley Library this morning, to track down the source of the words Eleanora had whispered to Tom last night. But it was worth it. Looking into her eyes now, he decided that every second he’d waited, every cent he’d spent on the search, had been worth it to ensure that she was married to him with a few words that actually meant something to her.

“It matters,” she answered softly, her voice breaking a little even as she managed a smile for him.

“Thomas English,” intoned the officiant, “repeat after me.”

Tom stared into Eleanora’s eyes as he repeated the vows, promising to love, honor, and cherish her. And he’d be lying if he said his own eyes didn’t burn a little as she returned the words, her expression bright and confident as her lips moved softly to form the words that bound her life to his.

“And now, by the authority vested in me by the state of Nevada, I pronounce you man and wife. Mr. English, you may kiss your bride.”

It hadn’t occurred to Tom that he’d be given permission to kiss Eleanora, that it would be expected. After last night, he’d sort of made a deal with himself that he wouldn’t touch her, knowing that if he did, his feelings for her would tumble into an emotional abyss, and he strongly doubted he’d ever be in possession or control of them again.

She must have seen the fear cross his face, because her expression cooled as she straightened her spine and lifted her chin. “You don’t have to.”

Did she think he didn’t want to? Could she possibly believe—even for a second—there was a universe in which he didn’t want to feel the softness of her lips beneath his? It wasn’t okay with him for her to believe that . . . because it simply wasn’t true.

“I want to.”

Releasing her hands, he palmed her cheeks, gently urging her closer. Eleanora took a step toward him, closing the distance between them, the fitted lace of her bodice flush against the crisp white cotton of his shirt.

Tom bent his neck, closing his eyes as he leaned toward her, feeling her fingers wrap around his forearm and tighten as his lips alighted on hers. She gasped softly as they made contact, stealing his breath as surely as she was stealing his heart. Her breasts pushed against his chest as she surged forward, arching into him, and he flicked his tongue along the seam of her lips to see if she would open to him. When she did, he tilted his head to the side, lowering his hands to her waist so he could gather her into his arms.

His toes curled in his shoes. His blood sluiced to his groin, where it pooled, hot and demanding, making him hard and needy for her—for this woman who could now legally call herself Mrs. Thomas English.

Eleanora English. His wife.

His brain stuttered over the words, and he drew back from her, breathless and panting, as he looked into her eyes. They were almost black, lazy and drugged as they opened, her body straining into his with every ragged breath she took. Her hands had wrapped around his neck at some point, her fingers braided together on the back of his throat.

And it all felt like heaven.

But it’s an arrangement, his head insisted. It’s only an arrangement, and it’s temporary.

The stab of pain he felt in the vicinity of his heart made him wince, and he dropped his arms slowly, waiting for her to untangle her fingers before he took a step away from her.

“Tom,” she murmured, her eyes soft and searching.

“Thank you for marrying me,” he said, taking her hand and leading her out of the chapel.

CHAPTER 5

I t was almost four o’clock by the time they’d signed the marriage certificate and taken their photos, but all Eleanora really wanted, especially after that kiss, was to spend some time alone with her new husband.

Oh, she knew that their marriage was temporary. She knew that tomorrow they’d fly to Philadelphia, she’d meet his grandfather on Tuesday, and regardless of the outcome of that meeting, they’d say farewell soon after.

But for one brief, shiny, sparkling moment in her dull, gray life, she was Eleanora Watters English, and she intended to enjoy it.

Waiting for the limo outside the chapel after the ceremony and photos, Evie snuggled against Van and grinned at her cousin. “Well, you did it. You’re, like, married, Ellie!”

Glancing down at her thin gold wedding band, Eleanora looked over her shoulder at Tom, who stood behind her. “I guess I am.”

Van stuck out his hand, adding solemnly—his words clearly meant more for Tom than for her—“I hope you don’t regret it.”

Eleanora took Van’s hand and shook it. “You don’t need to worry. We have an agreement. I intend to honor it.”

Van nodded, but Eleanora was surprised to feel Tom’s hands land on her hips, pulling her back against his body. During the pictures, he’d followed the directions of the photographer, putting his arm around her shoulders or pressing his lips to her cheek, but this was the first time he’d reached for her since they’d kissed in the chapel.

“Let’s not worry about that right now,” he murmured near her ear, his hot breath making shivers skate down her back as he wrapped his arms around her, resting them under her breasts. “Let’s just enjoy Vegas.”

“What did you have in mind?” asked Evie, smiling at Tom over Eleanora’s shoulder.

Tom spoke close to Eleanora’s ear again. “Any chance you like Donny and Marie?”

Evie gasped so loud, her cousin couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well, even if I don’t, I know someone who does.”

“Did he say Donny and Marie? As in . . . Osmond?” Evie squealed.

Tom laughed, holding on to Eleanora a little tighter.

“Aw, honey,” griped Van, “I wanted to show you my room.”

“And I would love to see your room,” said Evie, “but the man just mentioned Donny Osmond!”

Tom spun Eleanora in his arms, and suddenly she found herself looking up into his deep blue eyes, which were crinkled and merry, to match his smile.

“So? Want to go to their show tonight?”

“Did you really get tickets?” He nodded, grinning at her like the cat who got the cream. “It’s their Christmas special. It’s going to be televised.” “Ellie! Ellie! Ellie! Say yes!” yelled Evie from behind her.

Eleanora beamed at Tom. “I’d love to go.”

“You’re wrecking my plans,” muttered Van, giving Tom a dirty look as the limo pulled up.

Tom pressed a kiss to Eleanora’s forehead, and her stomach filled with butterflies, making her feel weak and strong at the same time as she basked in the way she felt special and precious to someone for the first time in her life. “I’ve read about this. This is spoiling, isn’t it? You’re spoiling me.”

“So let me. It’s only temporary, right?”

“Right.” Her cheeks flushed hot, and she dropped his eyes, wishing she could ignore the sting that accompanied his words. Plastering a smile on her face, she looked up at him again. “Thank you. Donny and Marie it is.”

Leading her into the back of the limo, he held her hand as they were driven the two miles back to the Imperial Palace, and the whole way Van grumbled about the best-laid plans going to hell, with Evie assuring him that he’d have plenty of time to get the best lay after she got a chance to see Donny Osmond.

TOM HAD BARELY SEEN the show.

As much as possible, he’d watched his bride, still radiant in white, as she experienced her first live production of . . . anything.

At dinner before the show, Eleanora had shared a little bit about her background: she’d grown up in a tiny town called Romero, three hours south of Vail, where her father worked as a mechanic. He could tell from her reluctance to talk about her childhood that it probably hadn’t been very easy or very happy, unlike his, which had been steeped in unfathomable wealth and endless opportunity. She spoke with some guarded affection about her high school English teacher—whom Evie had simultaneously labeled “heinous” and “a spaz”—and mentioned the library, where she’d worked after school and on weekend mornings until she left Romero at nineteen. Neither woman spoke freely about why they’d left their hometown, but Tom sensed that the reason was sound and serious and that the cousins were bound by its necessity. He couldn’t help but notice the way Evie looked at her older cousin, with an adoration on the edge of worship, which left little doubt that Eleanora had extricated Evie from something potentially toxic . . . or worse.

Learning more about her added dimension and strength to a woman he admired more by the minute. Despite her young age, she was smart and ambitious, protective and brave, all wrapped up in the body of a goddess, with the face of an angel. And she was his wife. The words circled in his mind as he watched her: This goddess–angel is my wife. In the eyes of the law, she belongs to me, and I belong to her.

After dinner, they walked over to the Flamingo, where they took their third-row VIP seats for the televised show. Eleanora suddenly grasped Tom’s hand, her cheeks pink and lips glossy as she faced him.

“Thank you for this,” she said, her smile dazzling. “For everything. For the best Christmas ever.”

“It’s not even Christmas yet,” he responded, feeling shaky and adolescent, his feelings for her taking his head, his heart, his very soul, by storm.

“See what I mean?” she joked, facing the stage and entwining her fingers with his before shifting their bound hands to her lap.

He didn’t want to freak her out by staring at her, but at every possible opportunity—when there was a gag they could laugh at, after every song as he held her hand and didn’t clap, and sometimes during an especially poignant Christmas carol—he’d glance over at her. She sat up straight, her posture perfect, her chin high. Her strong cheekbones made apples of her cheeks when she smiled or giggled, which made her look younger and softer than twenty-two, and he wondered what it would be like to always see her smiling, to never again see the lines of worried caution that crossed her face with too much regularity. Her hand was warm and small in his, her fingers elegant and soft threaded between his, and when he wasn’t looking at her, he was concentrating on the feeling of her skin pressed against his, and wondering what he wouldn’t give for the privilege to hold her hand like this forever.

What was happening to him? And why now? And why so fast? And why, for heaven’s sake, with her?

He’d had his pick of girls at the country club, at Princeton, in Philadelphia society. What was it about this girl—down-on-her-luck Eleanora Watters—that so pulled at his heartstrings? She was beautiful, yes, but it was so much more than that. It was the heart of a lion inside the body of a lamb. It was a poet’s soul in a waitress’s dress. It was a girl who deserved so much more than getting a shitty hand in life. And it was her sitting beside him now, watching the whole world with wonder at Christmastime, when the show was just some forgettable Vegas tripe. She was unspoiled and honest, unentitled and hardworking, hopeful when she had every right to be bitter. She was magnificent. How in the hell could he not fall for her?

Once the curtain was down and the lights up, Evie and Van hurried back to the hotel, but Tom and Eleanora strolled hand in hand, walking leisurely under the bright neon lights of the Strip.

“Did you like it?” he asked her after a while.

“I loved it.”

“It’s different being there in person, isn’t it? Did you think it would be the same as watching it on TV?”

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I don’t know how to explain this, but I don’t have thoughts like that at all. If you’d asked me yesterday my thoughts on seeing Donny and Marie on TV versus seeing them live, I wouldn’t have been able to answer you. I wouldn’t have had an inkling of what it was like to see TV stars singing and dancing ten feet away from my eyes. I would have wondered if you were making fun of me.”

“And maybe dressed me down with your numbers routine?”

She whipped her head to his, a slow smile spreading across her face. “You caught that yesterday morning, huh?”

“I don’t think anyone at the restaurant missed it.” He squeezed her hand. “You were brilliant.”

She sighed. “I get sick of it, you know?”

“Getting hit on?”

“Getting hit on, being objectified . . . the assumption that I’m so desperate, I’m a sure thing.”

“I don’t see you like that, you know.”

She stopped walking, looking up at him, the red, yellow, and green lights above them sparkling in her eyes. “I know.”

“What if I kissed you again?” he whispered.

“What if you did?”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“Maybe I’d mind if you didn’t.” He dipped his head and caught her bottom lip between his, winding his arms around her slim form and pulling her against his body. She was lithe and small next to him, and she tasted like pineapple juice and rum, and Tom knew that he’d never drink a piña colada for as long as he lived without thinking about Eleanora English.

She whimpered into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound, slipping his tongue between her lips, feeling the ridges of her teeth before her tongue met his. The wet velvet lit his blood on fire, and he gripped her harder, pushing against her lower back to make sure she could feel the ridge of his erection pressed against her stomach, and wondering if it was possible for her to want him half as much as he wanted her.

THEIR SECOND KISS, in the middle of the Las Vegas Strip with a thousand anonymous witnesses, was far more intimate than the one they’d shared in the tiny chapel in front of an old man and their two closest friends. She could feel the outline of Tom’s whole body against hers, and Eleanora arched her back, pressing her breasts against his chest and sighing when he growled her name near her ear. His lips grazed her throat, and she leaned her head back to give him complete access, his arms tightening around her as he pressed hot little kisses to her skin, at her pulse, in the tiny cove at the base of her throat.

A couple of kids snickered as they walked by, one of them saying, “Fuck her, man!” while the other advised them to “Get a room!” and Eleanora remembered herself, placing her palms flat against Tom’s chest and pushing gently. He straightened, looking down at her, his eyes dark blue and fierce.

“You’re like a drug. The more I touch you, the more of you I want.”

I know the feeling, she thought.

But this is only temporary, whispered her heart.

“Tom,” she said, pushing against his chest with a little more force as she caught her breath. “We shouldn’t.”

He loosened his arms and took a step away from her, searching her face, his expression intense, almost furious. “I didn’t see you coming. I didn’t expect you.”

“I didn’t expect you either.”

“What now?” he asked.

Was he hoping she’d invite him to her room or accept an invitation to his? If she slept with him, she’d know how it felt to have his body slide into hers, claim hers, love hers. She’d know the wonder of tender, loving sex with this man, with her husband. She’d know how it felt to be treasured for a brief unforgettable moment. But . . .

How, then, could she bear to return to her world? For the rest of her life, she would measure every man against Tom, and none would measure up to her beautiful, thoughtful husband of three days. She’d be ruined for happiness, and though she’d never expected much, now that she’d had a taste, she couldn’t deny she wanted more. Wanting it from Tom, however, was not only unrealistic, but unfair. He’d been clear with her. She was a solution to a problem that, once resolved, would conclude their business. And her payment for services rendered was more than fair.

“I haven’t seen the pool yet,” she said, glancing up at the sky and blinking back the useless tears she wished away. “I bet it’s lovely at night.”

When she met his eyes, he quickly concealed a grimace with a quick, disingenuous smile. He was disappointed in her suggestion.

“Tom,” she said gently, “it’s not that I don’t want to.”

“Then . . .?”

“We’re temporary, and I know that, but you’re already in my head. I can’t afford to have you in my heart too. And if I gave you my body—even for one night—I know that’s where you’d end up: in my heart. And when we shake hands and walk away from each other, you’d take my heart with you. And I’d be left alone without it. I can’t live without my heart, Tom.” She paused, swallowing over the lump in her throat. “I can’t . . . I can’t let myself fall for you.”

His eyes had grown progressively more stricken as she spoke, as if he understood her words so perfectly, they could have come out of his mouth just as easily.

“I understand,” he said, offering her his elbow and a genuine, if sad, smile. “The pool it is.”

She placed her hand on his bare arm, and the springy hairs tickled her fingers for a moment until she tightened her grip, letting him lead her around the back of the hotel through well-lit, landscaped pathways.

“Why The Swiss Family Robinson?” she asked in an effort to make conversation that would steer them to safer waters.

He chuckled softly, the noise welcome on the warm winter breeze. “I was wondering when you’d ask me about that.”

“It’s not an obvious choice.”

He shrugged. “But it’s my favorite. I think it’s the main character, the oldest brother, Fritz. He’s intelligent and strong, but impetuous. I always liked him.”

“No wonder.”

“What does that mean?”

“It sounds like you,” she said, pushing a long lock of blonde hair behind her ear.

He preened internally from her praise, accepting and savoring it as they walked into the moonlight.

“But isn’t it Fitz?” she asked. “Like Fitzwilliam?”

“No, Burnett,” he teased. “It’s Fritz with an r. A German name for a Swiss family.”

“Ah.” She sighed, then cocked her head, looking up at him. “But you have to admit that Fitz sounds nicer. Like Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

“Mr. Darcy. You’re an Austen fan.”

“Show me a woman who isn’t!”

He laughed again, pulling his arm away from her so that he could find his room key in his pocket and show it to the pool gate attendant. A moment later, they were afforded access to the dark, quiet patio surrounding the glowing blue pool.

“So why else is it your favorite?” she asked.

“I guess I liked the sense of adventure. The idea of living on a deserted island. And, well, if I’m honest, I loved the idea of four brothers. I grew up alone, and I would—oh, I don’t know. I guess I was a little jealous of the Robinsons with all those brothers.”

“I didn’t know you were an only child.”

Tom gestured to a double chaise by the pool’s edge, and Eleanora sat down, swinging her legs up on the canvas seat as Tom sat down beside her. “Technically, I’m not. I have a little brother, my father’s son from his second marriage. But he’s only eighteen. We barely know each other.”

“I see,” she said, her voice kind and warm. “So lots of brothers sounded ideal.”

“A big family sounded ideal,” said Tom, putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her against his side. “Still does.”

“Is that what you want someday?”

“Mm-hm,” he breathed softly. “A gaggle of kids so they’re never lonesome, so they always have each other.”

“Sounds nice,” she said. “Coming from four, I always thought—well, when I thought of having a family, which wasn’t very often—I always imagined it big. I don’t know any different.”

“A working mom?” he asked. “Managing your bookstores and a big family?”

She looked up at him and grinned. “Something like that. Maybe.”

He stared into her eyes for a long time, one hand caressing her shoulder as the other reached for her face. Finally he lowered his lips to hers, kissing her gently, reverently, without the heat from their previous kiss, but with ten times the tenderness.

“I hope you get everything you want,” he whispered, his breath soft against her lips. “I like you so much, Eleanora English.”

“I like you too,” she answered, nestling against his chest and closing her tired eyes.

In no time at all, they were asleep, held fast in each other’s arms, their dreams mingling and marrying under the fathomless desert sky.

CHAPTER 6

When their small plane touched down in Vail the next morning and Van announced that he was staying to spend Christmas with Eve Marie, Tom wasn’t certain who was more shocked—him or Eleanora.

“What are you talking about?” demanded Tom, pulling his friend aside on the tarmac as Eleanora did the same with her cousin.

Van rubbed the back of his neck. “We never . . . I mean, we meant to, you know, seal the deal last night, but we fell asleep.”

“You . . . what? You fell asleep?”

Van shrugged, looking sheepish. “She was talking about Donny and Marie and how much she liked them, and . . . I don’t know . . . I got to thinking if she liked them so much, I should get us a record player and a couple of their records ’cause we could dance and I’ll bet she’d like that. So the concierge rustled up a few albums and brought them up. And then we were dancing and we had some Champagne, and before I knew it, I woke up next to her on the couch. Clothes still on. And the phone was ringing because you and Ellie were already waiting for us downstairs.”

“I’ve never known you to blow a sure thing like this. Should I be worried?” asked Tom, smirking at his friend and vastly enjoying Van’s obvious discomfort.

“Nah.” Van looked over at Eve Marie, who was gesticulating wildly as she told her cousin a similar, if more enthusiastic, version of the story, and Tom noted how his friend’s face softened as he looked at her. “Listen, my folks already left for our ski house in Stratton, and Ellie’s going back East with you, so I just thought I may as well, I don’t know, keep her company. Stick around for a few more days.”

“I didn’t know they were spending Christmas in Vermont. I’ve always loved Stratton,” said Tom, giving Van a sly smile. “You could easily jump on a plane and join them, you know.”

“I kinda—aw, fuck. You want me to say it? I’ll say it. I kinda like her. She’s, I don’t know, she’s sorta dumb and sorta sweet, but she makes me laugh, and when she looks up at me with those big blue eyes, I just . . .”

Tom shook his head at Van with a mixture of teasing and disbelief. “I never thought I’d see it happen.”

“This from the one who got married in Vegas yesterday,” muttered Van grumpily. “Which, by the way, I still think is completely nuts.”

Tom’s grin faded, and his voice held a strong note of warning. “Keep your opinions about Eleanora to yourself, okay? For however long, she’s my wife. I need you to respect that.”

Van scoffed, looking back over at the girls. “I guess I’m not the only one falling for a Watters cousin, huh?”

Tom shrugged, glancing over at Eleanora, who was hugging Evie tightly. She caught Tom’s eyes over her cousin’s shoulder and winked at him.

“You’re definitely not the only one,” said Tom, his gaze locked on his bride.

Tom wrote Eve Marie a check for Eleanora’s share of January’s rent, and the cousins hugged goodbye, with Eleanora promising she’d be back before New Year’s. As they stood side by side on the tarmac, waving at the departing cab, Tom reached for Eleanora’s hand, delighting in the way she laced their hands together and looked up at him with a sunny smile.

“I’m glad she won’t be alone for Christmas,” she said.

“Me too. Ready for Philly?”

“I don’t know,” she said, cocking her head to the side. “Is Philly ready for me?”

He chuckled, putting his arms around her. “Let’s hope so.”

She leaned against him, her blue eyes serious and her voice husky when she spoke. “It was nice waking up next to you, Tom.”

“Yeah,” he said, drawing her closer and brushing his lips against her forehead. “For me too.” Though, frankly, he wouldn’t have minded waking up beside her naked body in a bed, instead of her clothed one in dew-covered pool chairs.

She rested her cheek on his chest, her voice a little muffled when she spoke. “I know that we only have a few days together, but . . .”

“But what, sunshine?”

She leaned back and looked up at him, seemingly surprised by the endearment, though her grin told him it pleased her too.

“Could we just be happy?” she asked. “Just . . . pretend like we’re really married? Like this is our first Christmas as a married couple?”

“We really are married, and this really is our first Christmas as a married couple.”

“I know. But you know what I mean . . . Could we just—”

“You mean, get a tree? Drink eggnog? Take a walk in the snow?”

“Exactly,” she said, her voice warming. “Maybe watch a Christmas movie. And I can make dinner for us . . . you know, if you wanted me to.”

I want you to. I want all of it just as much as you do.

But real life intruded on his dreams.

“If everything goes according to plan, we’ll have to go to my grandparents’ house for Christmas.”

“Oh.”

“However, if I’m disowned, we’ll hang out at my apartment, and I’ll be glad to eat whatever you make.”

“They’ll believe us, Tom,” she said, drawing back to look into his eyes. “We’ll make sure of it.”

Her eyes were sharp and serious, her pillowed lips pressed together with earnestness. She was so beautiful, such a capable teammate, he couldn’t help himself: he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

Her hands had been trapped between them, but she looped them around his neck, pulling his head down, sweeping her tongue into his mouth and bowing her back so that their bodies were flush. Her fingers played with the hair on the back of his neck, massaging and pulling, and his body caught fire with the heat of his longing. He groaned into her mouth as he hardened on command, wanting to feel more of her, know more of her, have more of her.

“Eleanora,” he panted near her ear. “What are you doing to me?”

“The same thing you’re doing to me,” she sighed.

He held her tightly, breathing in the sweet scent of her maple syrup hair and reveling in the feeling of her small body pressed so intimately against his. And then it came to him, in a flash, in a flame, in a burst of realization that made him shudder as she clung breathlessly to him:

Love.

Was this love?

He frowned.

Infatuation? Sure.

But love? Impossible.

Even if what he felt was the zygote of a someday love, he wasn’t even comfortable calling it that at this point. He’d only just met her. Christ, he barely knew her.

She sighed in his arms and readjusted her cheek against his shoulder, and his heart throbbed with it again—this deep, spreading, as-yet-unnamed feeling that was multiplying with every moment they spent together—and it felt both terrifying and fucking awesome, and frankly, Tom didn’t care if he never felt it with another woman for the rest of his life, as long as he got to feel it with Eleanora forever.

Forever.

And therein lay the problem.

He didn’t have forever.

He barely had now.

TOM WAS quiet on the plane ride East, despite Eleanora’s attempts to engage him. He wasn’t rude to her, just distracted, and finally she stopped trying, resting her head against the window and falling asleep to the white noise of the engine.

When she woke up, it was dark outside and the plane was still. Tom was squatting in front of her, holding her hands, his face gray in the dim light.

“Tom,” she murmured.

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

“You’re like a dream.”

“Or a miracle,” he said softly, dropping his lips to her hand and kissing it gently. “We’re here.”

She took a deep breath and sighed, opening her eyes and pulling her hands away so she could stretch her arms over her head. “How long was I out?”

“Hours. We didn’t sleep that well last night, I guess.”

“Or the night before,” she added, feeling around for her shoes with her socked feet. “I could sleep for a million years.”

“It’s only seven o’clock here. How about some takeout first? Then sleep?”

“Sounds good.”

She held out her hands, and he pulled her drowsy body up from the comfortable airplane seat, leading her down the aisle to the open door and down a small set of stairs. The cold air was jarring, and she shivered, wishing she hadn’t packed her coat but worn it instead. On the tarmac was a black town car, and Tom opened her door, letting her get settled before climbing in beside her.

“You’re cold,” he said, sliding closer to her as the car made its way through the small airport gates and onto the adjacent highway.

“A little,” she said, rubbing her freezing hands together.

Tom put his arm around her, drawing her against his side, and she rested her head on his shoulder, sighing with pleasure.

Earlier today, when he’d asked, What are you doing to me? she’d felt it deep inside, the way she felt an awesome orgasm gather—only it wasn’t her muscles clenching in readiness for release, it was her heart clenching in readiness to let go, or let in, or let loose. She didn’t recognize the feeling, but her chest tightened, head swam, and she felt dizzy as he held her, the taste of him still on her lips.

It’s love, whispered her heart.

It couldn’t be, she thought, her eyes suddenly burning as she tried to concentrate on the even rhythm of Tom’s breathing near her ear. It couldn’t be. It can’t happen this fast. That would be impossible and . . . disastrous.

Her heart raced, and she clenched her eyes shut, swallowing over the growing lump in her throat, because Eleanora Watters hadn’t had much good luck in her life, and recognizing disaster came easily.

She was falling for Tom English.

God damn it, Eleanora.

What a stupid, ridiculous thing to do.

TOO SOON, they pulled up in front of Tom’s apartment building in downtown Philadelphia.

With the light weight of his wife’s head on his shoulder, Tom had fantasized for most of the ride that it was all real—that he’d fallen in love with Eleanora in Vail, gotten married in Vegas, and here he was, bringing his bride home to Philadelphia to celebrate Christmas and meet his family. He smiled at his reflection as he thought about her and their marriage in those terms, and part of him wished it was true.

Even though it wasn’t.

An arrangement. That’s all it was.

But . . . did it have to be?

Maybe, after they’d met with his grandfather the day after tomorrow, no matter what the verdict, he’d ask her to stay a little longer. Through New Year’s. Maybe she could stay a few weeks, a month, a year. Hell, the way he felt, maybe she’d consider staying forever.

Maybe she could attend Drexel or Penn or Bryn Mawr. She could share his apartment, and he could take care of her. And all the while, they could get to know each other better: talk until dawn, hold hands as they took walks and discussed books, have long dinners together while they shared their dreams and helped each other make them come true.

Maybe it didn’t have to be an arrangement.

Maybe it didn’t have to end.

“Are we here?”

Eleanora had been so quiet on the ride home, Tom wondered if she’d fallen asleep, but her voice was crisp, not sleepy, so she must have been awake the whole time, thinking, just like him.

“We’re here, sunshine.”

She lifted her head but turned away from him, and by the time he’d exited and circled the car to open her door, she was already standing on the curb looking up at his building.

“You live here?”

He nodded. “Yep. I own the penthouse apartment.”

She whistled low, the way she had when he told her that he’d gone to Princeton. “Whoa.”

He reached for her hand, but she didn’t give it to him, adjusting her purse on her shoulder instead, then walking through the revolving door and into the lobby.

The town car driver loaded their luggage onto a cart, and the doorman headed for the service elevator, leaving Tom and Eleanora alone, waiting for the tenant elevator in the lobby. And Tom realized that Eleanora hadn’t looked him in the eye since they’d arrived. No teasing grins, no entwined hands . . . nothing.

“Hey,” he said, nudging her with his elbow. “You okay?”

“Sure,” she answered quickly, staring at the shiny brass elevator door.

The bell rang and the doors parted. She stepped forward, into a far corner, then turned around, staring at the Persian carpet beneath her feet. Her jaw was clenched tightly, and she blinked several times.

What was going on? She looked miserable, and he couldn’t bear it—not if he was the cause or could help with a solution. He reached forward and pressed the button for the tenth floor, then stepped back against the railing, beside her, but not touching her.

“Are you worried? About my grandfather? About not getting the money?”

She gulped softly, shaking her head, but she didn’t answer him.

“Did I do something?”

She shook her head again, reaching up to swipe at her cheek.

“Jesus, Eleanora, please just tell me what’s going on.”

The bell rang again to signal that they’d arrived at the tenth floor, and Eleanora marched out of the elevator, then stood still in the quiet hallway. She didn’t know where to go, and Tom wasn’t telling her until she told him what was wrong.

Gently placing his hands on her shoulders, he turned her around to face him, but she kept her head bent, her eyes cast down.

“Please tell me,” he whispered.

“I’m falling for you,” she said, so softly, he almost didn’t believe he’d heard her correctly until she cleared her throat and said it again. “I’m falling for you.”

“That’s okay,” he said, relief flooding his senses and making him sigh raggedly.

“It’s not okay,” she said, finally raising her glistening eyes to his. “It’s not okay to fall for someone so quickly. It doesn’t make sense, and it scares me. It’s not okay to fall for someone you’re leaving in three days. That’s a great way to break your own heart. It’s not okay to fall for someone who’s older and more sophisticated and better educated and just needs a wife so that he can—”

WHATEVER SHE’D BEEN EXPECTING, suddenly feeling Tom’s arms around her and his lips pressed fiercely to hers wasn’t it. But her feelings were so intense and she needed the comfort he offered so badly, she let her purse drop to the floor and wound her arms around his neck. She parted her lips and moaned when his tongue found hers, sucking it, then sliding against it until her panties flooded with the heat of her arousal. Her nipples beaded under her sweater, and she rubbed them against his chest with every breath she took, threading her fingers through his soft, blond hair, tilting her head this way, then that, delighting in the tickle of his mustache, tasting him from every angle, and begging fate to let her stay just a little longer in his arms.

A person’s forever is a grain of sand on the beach of eternity.

But I won’t be greedy. I won’t ask for forever.

I just want a little longer.

“I’m falling for you too,” he said, his voice gravelly and breathless as he pressed kisses to the top of her head, sliding his hands up her arms to cup her face with his palms.

When he tilted her head up to look at him, his eyes were midnight blue and fierce. “Can you do me a favor?”

“I’ll try.”

“Help me get a tree tomorrow and decorate it.” He smiled at her so hopefully, it made more tears flood her eyes. “Take a walk with me in the snow, and lie next to me on the couch while we watch a Christmas movie. And on Tuesday, after we meet with my grandfather, promise me we’ll talk. We’ll make sense of this, Eleanora. We’ll figure it out together.”

She searched his eyes and saw the emotion there—the tenderness, the warmth, the desire, and concern. And she realized something brand-new: she trusted him.

Sniffling softly, she reached up and dried her eyes before offering him a wobbly smile and nodding. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded again, letting him take her hand and lead her down the hallway to his apartment. “Okay.”

CHAPTER 7

T  om hoped that Eleanora would sleep in his bed with him, but she opted for the guestroom instead, and although he longed for her beside him, he didn’t challenge her or make her decision any harder.

The next morning, he woke early, his subconscious aware of someone else in his space, moving around, living. Well, and the smell of coffee, pancakes, and bacon were making his mouth water. Pulling on a pair of old jeans over his boxers and leaving his chest bare, he left his room, rubbing his eyes as he moved in the direction of the warm, delicious smells coming from his barely-ever-used kitchen.

She had her back to him, wearing tight, dark blue jeans and a light pink sweatshirt that exposed the creamy skin of her left shoulder and made him wonder if she was wearing a bra, though he quickly deduced she probably wasn’t, because he didn’t see a strap. His mouth watered again, and this time it had nothing to do with breakfast.

As if sensing his presence, she looked over her shoulder, her lovely face brightening with a smile when she found him staring at her.

Then her eyes dropped to his bare chest.

And slowly, ever so slowly, her smile faded, and her breathing became just a touch more audible. When she raised her eyes, they were dark, and as she tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, he was sure he heard a soft whimper.

Tom stalked across the living room, beelining for her, reveling in her wide-eyed stare and the rapid rise and fall of her untethered breasts. Jesus, was there a more beautiful woman on the face of the earth? Nope. No way. No how.

He stopped about a foot from her, his voice more gravelly than casual when he said, “Morning, sunshine.”

“M-morning,” she breathed, pressing her palms against her cheeks as she stared up at him.

His lips wobbled beneath his mustache, and he laughed softly. “Want me to put on a shirt?”

“No!” she exclaimed, wincing right after her outburst. “I mean . . . oh God . . . you don’t have to. I mean . . .”

He reached out and covered one of the hands on her cheeks. “I’m teasing you.”

She cocked her head to the side, sliding her palm out from under his so his hand lay flat against the skin of her face, and she leaned against it, her eyes half-lidded and dreamy. “Good morning, husband.”

Tom bent his head forward, kissing his wife, his lips a gentle pressure on hers. She opened for him like a flower, winding her arms around his neck and lacing her fingers against his skin. He pulled her into his arms, tilting his head to seal his lips more perfectly over hers. And frankly, he would have kissed her all day if the bacon behind her hadn’t started snapping and complaining.

“It’s going to burn,” she whispered, her breath hot against his lips.

“Let it.”

“That would be a waste,” she said, leaning back, her eyes asking for more, even though her body had started pulling away.

Compromising, he turned her in his arms, holding her from behind, the back of one bare shoulder scorching the skin of his chest. She reached for a wooden spoon—he had wooden spoons?—and moved the bacon around the frying pan a little bit.

He rested his chin on her shoulder, inhaling the sweet smell of this lovely girl and sighing in contentment.

“I didn’t even realize I had food.”

“You didn’t. But you had the name of a grocery store that delivers on your fridge.”

He laughed. “You’re industrious.”

“You don’t know the half of it. I have pancakes keeping warm in the oven too,” she said, leaning her head to the side.

Tom turned his face toward her, his lips brushing the soft, hot skin of her throat, kissing her once, twice, feeling goose bumps rise beneath his lips, and he sucked on them gently, puckering his lips, then pulling away to nuzzle her soft skin again.

She moaned deep in her throat as he kissed her neck, the low vibration under his lips making darts of pleasure launch with precision to his groin, which stiffened against her backside.

“I want you,” he groaned near her ear, taking the lobe between his teeth and flicking his tongue over the soft pillow of prisoned skin. “I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you.”

Her breath caught, but she was silent in his arms, the wooden spoon motionless in her hand. “Tom . . .”

“You want me too, Eleanora. I know it. I can feel it.”

“I do.” She swallowed before dragging in a ragged breath. “But I’m not my cousin. I don’t sleep with men just to . . . get ahead.”

“No,” he said evenly, frustrated by how much he wanted her. “You marry them.”

She stiffened a little. “That sounds mercenary.”

He sighed, brushing his lips against the back of her neck. “I don’t mean it in a bad way. I needed you. You needed me. I’m older and better educated, but you’re smart and resourceful. It levels the playing field between us. It makes me feel like there’s nothing you couldn’t do. It makes me wonder . . .”

“Makes you wonder what?”

. . . if you could start your life as the daughter of an alcoholic mechanic from a one-horse town in Colorado, and somehow end up the wife of a Philadelphia millionaire. For real. Forever.

“If there’s anything you can’t do.”

She took a deep breath, and he sensed she was sorting through his words. Suddenly she raised her head and pushed the bacon around the pan, making it snap and sizzle. “Well, I can’t make unburned bacon if you don’t let go of me and set the table. So . . .”

He kissed her neck, letting her go. “On it.”

A FEW HOURS LATER, they struggled down his street, Tom clasping the trunk of a Fraser fir in his gloved hands and Eleanora giggling as she walked backward holding on to the top.

“Human at two o’clock,” he said, and she burst into laughter, adjusting her course.

“Now?”

“Stroller at eleven, and behind that, a dog walker at two.”

She kept her eyes glued to his, swerving to the left, then right. Turning around and walking forward had occurred to her, but it had also occurred to her that it wouldn’t be half as much fun as watching him struggle with the tree and keep her from colliding with oncoming traffic.

In the crook of each elbow she carried oversize plastic bags filled with ornaments, lights, and garlands, and she adjusted one of them to her forearm so it wouldn’t swing into her shin.

“Fire hydrant. Three o’clock.”

She looked up and burst out laughing again. “It’s not going to jump out at me, is it?”

He grinned. “Nope. But I hadn’t heard you laugh for at least thirty seconds. I was about to go through withdrawal.”

“Flirt,” she said, rolling her eyes even as her heart pumped with pleasure.

“I’m not a flirt,” he said. “I’m married.”

“Poor girl.”

“Ha! Lucky girl! I’ll have you know I’m a catch.”

“Oh really? Besides money, good looks, an excellent education, decent taste in books, a private plane, and a bangin’ apartment, what makes you a catch?”

His eyes sparkled. “You think I’m good-looking?”

She started giggling and rolled her eyes at him again.

“Well, I think you’re gorgeous,” he said, readjusting his grip on the tree trunk. “Apartment building. Nine o’clock.”

She stopped, looking behind her shoulder at Tom’s luxury building. The doorman rushed to open the side door, but Eleanora had already stepped into the revolving door, cackling with glee as Tom hurried to pull the tree upright so that all three of them would fit in one small compartment of glass.

When they reached the lobby opening, Eleanora stepped out, but Tom purposely went around with the tree again, making her laugh so hard, her stomach was aching by the time he dragged himself and his prize into the lobby and stood before her.

“You might be a little crazy,” he deadpanned.

“Me?” she demanded.

“Yes, you, Mrs. English.”

“I’m giddy today,” she said, taking a deep breath around her giggles. “I haven’t had a—”

Realizing what she was about to say, she stopped talking, and her laughter tapered off until they stood in awkward silence.

“Haven’t had a what?” asked Tom quietly, as tall and strong as the tree bundled up beside him.

“I haven’t had a Christmas tree since my mom left. Since I was five,” she said, meeting his eyes.

She didn’t cry. She didn’t wince. She didn’t look away. She wasn’t ashamed of who she was. She wasn’t going to apologize for her past. It was her truth, it was honest, and she wanted him to know it.

He stared at her, his eyes blue and careful as they searched hers. Finally he offered her a small smile and nodded. “Then I guess we better get it upstairs and start decorating, huh?”

Picking up the tree without another word, he carried it to the elevator and pressed the call button, but Eleanora stood there in the middle of his lobby, frozen, processing what had just happened.

He could have felt sorry for her, which she would have hated. He could have felt guilty for all the Christmas trees he’d ever had, and she would have hated that too. He could have asked her to talk more about her awful Christmases, and really, she had no interest in talking about her crappy childhood. He could have looked appalled or dismayed and tried to comfort her, which would have been presumptuous and made her defensive.

Instead, he had accepted her truth without judgment and affirmed who she was now without condemning where she’d been. And if she was in danger of falling for him yesterday, she realized today that the deed was done. Though she dared not give it the name it owned aloud, she knew that whatever happened tomorrow at his grandfather’s house, leaving him now would cause damage, wreak havoc, and break her heart. Losing him would hurt for a long time. Maybe forever.

“You coming, or what?” he called from inside the elevator.

She turned and ran across the lobby, not stopping until she collided with him, her cold hands reaching for his face and pulling it down to hers. He fumbled to press the floor button behind her, then pulled her against his chest, letting the tree fall against the elevator wall as he kissed her. She leaned into him, opening her mouth to his searching tongue and welcoming him into the hot, wet corners of her mouth. He branded her lips with his, slanting them over hers again and again, their teeth clashing, their panted breath swapping and mingling, their sighs and moans making a chorus of desire.

When the bell rang and the doors opened, Eleanora stepped back from him, looking up at his eyes.

“What was that for?” he asked, his voice breathless and husky.

“Because you make me happy,” she answered, taking the top of the tree in her hands and backing out of the elevator.

THEY PLACED the tree between two large windows in Tom’s living room, and once it was decorated, he made a fire in the fireplace and turned off all the other lights in the apartment, so that the only light was the soft white from the tree and a flood of warm firelight.

Eleanora made scrambled eggs with cheese and sausage for dinner, and they ate it on a blanket under the lights—she called it a Christmas tree picnic—and Tom had insisted on opening a bottle of Champagne and toasting the chef.

“Sorry about breakfast for dinner,” she said, spooning eggs onto his empty plate.

“No complaints here,” he said, digging in with gusto.

“I never learned to cook much. We made do with a lot of heated-up cans, you know? I really only learned to cook when I moved to Vail.”

“Oh,” he said, looking up at her with understanding. “You learned to cook at Auntie Rose’s Breakfast-All-Day Chalet.”

“Exactly.” She pushed the eggs around on her plate, and he sensed she was feeling sheepish, but suddenly her expression brightened and she looked up at him. “But I can make almost any breakfast food you can think of. Pancakes. Waffles. Sausage, bacon, biscuits. Omelets. Eggs any way you want them . . .”

Her voice trailed off as he looked into her eyes. The reflection of a the Christmas lights shone back at him. It was like she was lit up from the inside, and his heart throbbed when he answered, “I’ll eat them any way you make them, Eleanora. I’ll just be glad it’s you giving them to me.”

Her cheeks had reddened then, and they’d finished the rest of their dinner admiring the tree, then lying on their backs beneath it, side by side.

At some point, Tom had taken her hand in his, weaving their fingers together and resting them on his chest, over his heart.

“Eleanora?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you want me to tell you a little bit about tomorrow? About meeting with my grandfather?”

She squeezed his fingers. “Okay.”

“Our family estate is called Haverford Park. My grandparents still live there. My father grew up there. So did I. When my parents divorced, my father took an apartment here in Philly, and after college, so did I. But Haverford Park will be mine one day.”

“It’s a mansion?”

“Yes. There are several acres of land, gardens, and a pool. We have six horses that are housed in the stables, and there’s a stocked pond for trout fishing. There’s a lawn for cricket and a gatehouse where the gardener lives with his wife. Our chauffeur and house staff live in apartments over the garage.”

“Oh,” she sighed, sounding out of breath. She tried to pull her hand away, but Tom held it tighter.

“You come from no Christmas tree and cans heated up for dinner. I come from . . . Haverford Park. Two different worlds, but as far as I’m concerned, neither one is better or worse than the other. We can’t help where we come from, okay?”

She was silent for a long moment, but he felt her hand gradually relax until it readjusted to clasp his again. “Okay.”

He took a deep breath, grateful that she didn’t jump up and run away at the prospect of what she was walking into tomorrow.

“My grandfather is expecting us at three. I have to be honest: he wasn’t pleased about meeting you. I should warn you, he could be rude about it . . . about us.”

“About me,” she corrected him.

“About the situation. A whirlwind marriage.”

She threaded and rethreaded her fingers through his. “I can handle it.”

He heard the tremor in her voice and rushed to reassure her. “I’ll be right beside you. I won’t . . . I mean, I won’t let it get out of control.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, rolling to her side to face him. “But let’s not talk about it anymore, okay? Tomorrow will be here soon enough.”

He rolled to mirror her, their hands still clasped together between them. Reaching out, he traced the lines of her face with the tips of his fingers.

“Thank you for doing this,” he said.

“Don’t thank me yet,” she joked, but her eyes, heavy with apprehension, betrayed her.

He lowered his voice, his tone serious as he stared into her eyes. “You promised me, remember? No matter what happens with my grandfather, we’ll talk about what happens with us after we leave Haverford tomorrow,” he said, stroking her cheek, marveling at her heart-wrenching beauty. “Promise me again, Eleanora.”

“I promise,” she whispered, closing her eyes and leaning forward to tuck her head under his chin. She sighed deeply, and her voice was drowsy when she added, a few minutes later, “Merry Christmas, Tom. Thank you for the tree.”

“You’re welcome, sunshine,” he murmured, pressing his lips to his wife’s forehead.

He pulled their picnic blanket around them, then put his arm over her hips, drawing her up against his body. They didn’t talk anymore. For now, there was nothing more to say. He held her until she fell asleep under their first Christmas tree, and after praying to God that tomorrow wouldn’t be the end for them, Tom surrendered to sleep too.

CHAPTER 8

Eleanora squeezed Tom’s hand as he helped her out of his sleek sports car, trying not to hyperventilate as she looked up at the dozens of windows of Haverford Park, which was roughly the size of the grandest hotel in Vail.

She smoothed her plain, black, ankle-length skirt and straightened the shoulder pads on her lavender silklike blouse. Suddenly her best clothes felt cheap, and she wished that she had something truly classy to wear, like real pearls or an elegant winter coat. She pulled the lapels of her bargain-bin coat closer and squeezed Tom’s hand again.

“Don’t be nervous,” he said, leaning down close to her ear. “His bark is worse than his bite.”

Tom reached forward to ring the bell, and a pretty young woman in a maid’s outfit answered the door. “Tom!”

“Susannah! Merry Christmas!”

“To you too! And happy birthday!” Eleanora smiled at the woman, who looked curiously at her.

“Susannah Edwards, this is Eleanora . . . my wife.”

Susannah’s eyes jerked back to Tom’s in shock, but a delighted smile soon followed, and she extended her hand to Eleanora. “Oh, I’m so happy for you! Congratulations!”

“Thank you, Susannah,” said Eleanora, feeling just a little bit better and more confident after such a warm greeting. “You’re very kind.”

“I’m happy for Tom,” said Susannah, patting him on the arm before beaming at Eleanora. “And for you.”

“Is my grandfather waiting for us?”

“He is,” said Susannah, her grin fading as she turned to Tom. Her voice was cool and formal when she added, “Follow me, please.”

Eleanora gulped as they walked down an austere hallway decorated with painted portraits and brass sconces. The entire house was like a museum—old and grand. And this is where Tom had grown up.

You come from no Christmas tree and cans heated up for dinner. I come from . . . Haverford Park. Two different worlds, but as far as I’m concerned, neither one is better or worse than the other. We can’t help where we come from, okay?

She was determined not to judge him, just as he hadn’t judged her. Yes, they were from two different worlds, but the only thing that mattered was how they felt about each other.

“It’ll be okay,” Tom whispered.

She nodded at him with her bravest smile. “I know it will.”

Susannah knocked on a large, dark-wood door, and a gruff voice commanded, “Come!” She pushed open the door and gave Eleanora an encouraging smile, mouthing, “Good luck.”

Pulled by Tom into his grandfather’s study, Eleanora took a moment to glance around the room. The walls were covered with bookcases from floor to ceiling, and several easy chairs and love seats were placed around the enormous room for reading. In the center, in front of one massive window that looked out over the grounds of Haverford Park, was a large wooden desk. Behind it sat an older man—maybe in his seventies—with white hair and bushy eyebrows, wearing a three-piece suit and a maroon bow tie. He eyed Eleanora shrewdly, and she forced herself not to look away.

“Grandfather,” said Tom, approaching the desk. “Merry Christmas.”

“Yes, yes.”

“You look well.”

“Humph. I feel old.” He gestured to the two stiff-backed chairs in front of the desk. “Sit.”

Tom pulled out the left chair, and Eleanora sat down, folding her hands in her lap and staring at the elder Mr. English. If she looked down, it might convey that she was frightened or that she wasn’t committed to Tom, and she didn’t want that. She’d promised to help him secure his inheritance, and that’s precisely what she intended to do.

“Who’s this?” the older man asked gruffly, flicking a glance at Tom before looking back at Eleanora.

“Grandfather, may I present Eleanora Watters English, my bride?”

Mr. English stared at her with narrowed eyes for several long minutes.

“Bride,” he muttered.

“Yes, sir,” said Tom, a hint of pride in his voice.

“Where are you from, Miss Watters?”

“Colorado, sir.”

“Whereabouts?”

“Romero.”

“Never heard of it.”

“That’s not surprising. It’s very small.”

“Does everyone in Romero marry strangers on a whim?”

Eleanora swallowed.

Tom reached for her hand, and his grandfather huffed in disgust. “Save that for when you’re alone.”

She was relieved when Tom threaded his fingers through hers in defiance, anchoring her to him.

“What do you do for work, gal?”

“I’m a . . .” Her cheeks flushed with shame as she glimpsed a collection of silver trophies on a credenza behind the desk, but she lifted her chin. “I’m a waitress.”

“Of course you are,” said Mr. English, taking a deep breath and sighing. He shuffled some papers around on his desk without looking up. “Will you excuse us, Miss Watters?”

He was dismissing her? Just like that? Her heart thundered in her chest, a mix of indignance and nerves.

“Sir?”

“I’d like a word alone with my grandson now.”

Cheeks burning, she disengaged her hand from Tom’s and stood up. Her pocketbook, which had been resting on her lap, slid to the floor with a plop. She bent over to pick it up, fumbling with trembling fingers to pull it over her shoulder. Suddenly she felt Tom’s comforting hand on her arm, helping her up and walking her to the door.

“You did great,” he whispered, though his eyes were flinty and flat. “Wait for me outside, okay?”

She nodded at him, trying not to cry.

She hadn’t done great.

That much was clear.

“SHE’S A LOOKER, but is she also a hooker?”

Tom turned from the door to face his grandfather with barely restrained fury. The old man had done everything short of blatantly insulting Eleanora to her face, and Tom had never felt so angry with anyone in his life. “What the hell is the matter with you?”

“Is she?”

“No! She’s a waitress!”

“Humph. Regardless, she’s not at all what I had in mind for you.”

“Be that as it may, she’s my wife.”

“Ha! Your wife! What a joke. She’s cheap goods, is what she is. You met the girl five minutes ago, Thomas.”

“That’s enough!” Tom slapped his palms on his grandfather’s desk, leaning over the dark mahogany to sneer at him. “Not only did I play by your rules, old man, but she’s a better woman than any I’ve ever known. I’m lucky to be with her, and if anyone is cheap goods here, it’s you, out of line with your cheap, below-the-belt shots.”

“A Vegas wedding to a common waitress with no family, no education, no breeding.” Tom’s grandfather narrowed his eyes, sitting back in his desk chair and tenting his fingers under his chin. “You think you outsmarted me, boy? You didn’t. You know as well as I do that you’re thumbing your nose at my rules. But you’re young, and you’ve always been a little impulsive, so I’ll give you a chance to make things right. Annul this sham of a marriage and I will give you six more months to find someone appropriate before I cut you off.”

Tom lifted his hands from the desk, crossing his arms over his chest. His grandfather gestured toward his office door with his chin.

“But I will require that she return to Colorado and you remain in Philadelphia, Thomas. So don’t think you can annul the marriage and still have your cheap piece of ass on the side.” He raised his bushy eyebrows. “So? What do you say? More than fair, eh?”

“What do I say?” Tom took a deep breath and tried to steady his voice, but it was still lethal. “I say, I’ll take my chances with her. I say, Keep your goddamn money. I don’t want it. I say, I choose her.” He turned around and strode across the office toward the door.

“Now, Thomas,” the old man blustered, leaning forward to stand up.

“Forgive me, Grandfather,” said Tom, turning the doorknob before he faced his aging relative one last time, “but go to hell.”

Slamming the office door shut behind him, Tom looked right and left down the hallway, but Eleanora was nowhere to be seen.

“Eleanora?” he called.

“Psssht! Tom!” Susannah peeked out of the front parlor with a feather duster in her hand, beckoning him to come closer. “She left.”

“She lef—wait. Why?”

Susannah winced. “I’m afraid your grandfather’s office door wasn’t closed very tightly. The whole house heard what he had to say about her.”

Tom grimaced, clenching his eyes shut for a moment and taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm his fury. “Where’d she go?”

“She raced out the front door.” Susannah offered Tom a sympathetic smile. “Bet you can still catch her.”

“Thanks, Susannah,” said Tom, racing for the door and swinging it open. He paused on the front steps of the mansion for a moment and spotted her—a speck in the distance at the end of the long gravel driveway, almost at the gatehouse.

“Eleanora!”

Tom took off at a sprint, but she didn’t slow down. She reached the gates and struggled to pull the heavy wrought iron open, finally managing to slip through. He ran as fast as he could, pulling open one of the gates and racing onto Blueberry Lane, where he found her leaning against a brick pillar at the entrance of the estate, her shoulders hunched forward and head down.

He stepped in front of her, reaching for her. “Eleanora.”

She didn’t look at him. Tears fell from her cheeks, plopping on the ground at their feet. “Please let me go.”

“I can’t,” he said breathlessly.

“Please, Tom,” she sobbed. “I have a credit card that I use for emergencies, and if I can j-just get to the airport, I can—”

Pulling her roughly against him, he crushed her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his lips to her sweet-smelling hair. “Please don’t go. You can’t go. I told him to shove his money up his ass. I told him to go to hell. I told him I choose you, sunshine. I choose us.”

She whimpered against his neck, a small keening sound that broke his heart even as her body relaxed against his. “Tom . . .”

“I don’t . . .” He inhaled raggedly, still trying to catch his breath. “I don’t have all the answers, Eleanora. Maybe six months from now, you’ll think I’m a prick and leave. Maybe I’ll find out you’re crazy and beg you to go. But right here? Right now? I want you. I want you so bad, I can’t think straight. I want you so much, I just turned down fifteen million dollars. Like it or lump it, you’re my wife, and I just . . . God, I just want to give us a chance.”

“You do?” she asked softly, her voice still a little shaky.

“I do.”

She leaned back, looking up at him with glistening eyes and a brilliant smile. “I want you too, Tom. So much.”

He placed his palms on her cheeks and found her lips with his, parting them, claiming them, celebrating that they wouldn’t have to say goodbye, that for now they had chosen each other, and feeling breathlessly excited for their future.

When they were both panting and trembling, he rested his forehead against hers. “You’re worth it.”

“God, I hope so,” she murmured, laughing softly, her breath landing on his lips like a blessing.

“We’ll have to move,” he said. “That penthouse belongs to my family.”

“I’ve been comfortable with a lot less.”

“I have several thousand dollars of my own money saved up. I’m not broke,” he said. “And I have a good education. I can apply for jobs in New York or Hartford maybe. I’ve worked at English & Son for years—I should be able to find something on Wall Street or in insurance. We’ll find a little place. Start small, but fresh.”

“I’ll make it homey with very little. I know how to do that. And I’ll have breakfast for dinner waiting for you every night when you come home.”

“Every night that you don’t have classes, you mean. You’re finishing college, Eleanora. Between my savings and whatever I bring home, we’ll make it happen. You could go to NYU or Columbia. We’ll check them out this spring and enroll you for the fall term. Deal?”

She laughed softly again, leaning forward to kiss him. “Deal.”

“I swear to you, I won’t stop working until we’re on our feet. I’ll give you a good life. I promise if you take a chance on me, you won’t regret it.”

“But what about you?”

“What do you mean?”

She leaned back a little to gaze up at him, her smile fading, her fingers clasping his wrist.

“What about the money? How can you do this? How can you turn it down for me?”

“I want you more.”

“Won’t you resent me?”

“No, sunshine,” he said softly, threading his fingers through her hair and kissing her tenderly. “And besides, maybe he’ll come around one day. Once he knows you. Once he sees that he was right all along.”

“Right?” she demanded, jerking back from him, her eyes wide and insulted. “What exactly was he right about?”

He ran the backs of his fingers across her cheek, soothing her. “‘A good woman makes a man honest, makes him work harder, makes him true.’ His words. That’s why he wanted me to get married. His goal all along was for me to find a woman who made me honest and true, who made me want to work hard for her comfort, for her happiness.” He pressed a sweet, swift kiss to her warmed-honey lips. “And he was right. A good woman can change the entire course of your life . . . if you want her badly enough . . . if you let her.”

She was staring up at him, her eyes searching and fraught, determining if his words were true. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment before letting it go. And that was the moment—he watched it happen before his very eyes—that was the moment Eleanora Watters became Eleanora English.

“I’m going to fall in love with you,” she whispered. “I’m going to give you the big family you want. I’m going to be sure you never, ever regret choosing me. I promise, Tom. That’s my promise to you: I’ll spend the rest of my life making you happy too.”

“A dream and a miracle,” he murmured, drawing her back against him and closing the distance between their lips.

EPILOGUE

“. . . A nd he whispered, ‘A dream and a miracle.’” Eleanora English sighed as her daughter-in-law Emily Edwards English handed her another ornament, which she fastened onto a sturdy pine branch. “The end.”

The room was so silent, you could have heard a pin drop, and then . . .

“Wait! What?” exclaimed Jessica Winslow English, the wife of Eleanora’s third son, Alex. “What do you mean ‘the end’?”

Eleanora turned around to find six younger women—her husband’s niece, Kate, plus her sons’ wives and significant others—staring at her with their mouths gaping open, in various states of disbelief and indignation. She had invited the girls over for a tree-trimming party at Haverford Park this year, and was enjoying every moment with these smart, funny, wonderful women. When Molly, the brand-new fiancée of her fifth son, Weston, had asked to hear the story of how her future in-laws had met, Eleanora couldn’t help indulging them and had been spinning the tale for over an hour.

“The end,” said Eleanora again, gesturing uselessly with one hand. “Um . . . the end of the story.”

“I don’t think so,” said Valeria with a little bit attitude. She was the girlfriend of Eleanora’s fourth son, Stratton, and the most outspoken of the girls. Eleanora absolutely adored her for it because she’d pulled shy Stratton out of his shell and loved him for exactly who he was. “You can’t just end it like that.”

“What do you mean?”

Molly cocked her head to the side. “You’re really leaving us hanging, Eleanora. Did they move to New York? Did he find a job? Were they happy? What about Evie and Van?”

“Good question,” said Daisy Edwards English, her second son Fitz’s wife, who had just been upstairs to check on her daughter—Eleanora’s first grandchild—baby Caroline. Daisy picked up a plate of homemade cookies from the coffee table and handed them to her cousin, Emily. “We have to know what happened to ditzy, darling Evie! Did they end up together?”

Jessica pursed her lips, turning to Eleanora’s niece by marriage. “Kate, did you know your great-grandfather?”

“He sounds like a real piece of work,” added Valeria.

“Thankfully, no,” said Kate English-almost-Rousseau, looking disgusted. “He died before I was born. But my dad is much younger than Uncle Tom, and they had different mothers.”

“Did Tom ever get the money?” asked Jessica, turning back to Eleanora.

Eleanora grinned at her, and Jessica turned her sharp green eyes to Emily. “Susannah’s your mother, Emily. Did you ever meet Evie? Do you know how the story ends?”

Emily shrugged, shaking her head. “I can’t ever remember meeting someone named Evie. Ad even though I’ve lived at Haverford Park for most of my life, I promise, I’ve never even heard this story. Please, Eleanora, you’ve got to tell us the rest!”

Valeria leaned an elbow on Jessica’s shoulder. “No more ornaments until we get the rest of the story, Eleanora.”

Molly tucked an errant strand of red hair behind her ear, looking hopeful. Her enormous engagement ring caught the firelight and glistened merrily. “There’s a fresh thermos of hot cocoa here. We could take a break from decorating, and you could tell us the rest?”

Emily and Daisy had already cuddled up together on the overstuffed couch, and Molly squeezed in beside Daisy. Kate poured them all steaming mugs of cocoa, and Valeria sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the fire. Jessica, still standing beside the tree with her hands on her hips, shrugged at her mother-in-law with a saucy grin as she gestured to the armchair by the fire.

“Fine! You girls win,” said Eleanora, laughing as she sat down and accepted a steaming cup of chocolate from Kate. “But I warn you, ‘the course of true love—’”

“‘—never did run smooth,’” finished Valeria gently. “That’s okay. We still want to know.”

Jessica sat down on the love seat next to Kate, and Eleanora took a deep breath, thinking back, remembering what came next. Her eyes teared for just a moment, but she took another deep breath.

“We were falling in love. We were . . . full of hope,” she started, letting her memories carry her away.

MARRYING MR. ENGLISH

Part 2

will be available on 12.18.15!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Did you love Tom and Eleanora’s story? Now it’s time to read about their five sexy sons: Barrett, Fitz, Alex, Stratton, and Weston, and their lovely niece, Kate!

THE BLUEBERRY LANE SERIES

THE ENGLISH BROTHERS

(Blueberry Lane Books #1-6 & 11)

Breaking Up with Barrett

Falling for Fitz

Anyone but Alex

Seduced by Stratton

Wild about Weston

Kiss Me Kate

Marrying Mr. English, Parts 1 & 2

Thank you for reading!

THE WINSLOW BROTHERS

(Blueberry Lane Books #7-10)

Bidding on Brooks

Proposing to Preston

Crazy about Cameron

Campaigning for Christopher

Katy Regnery, award-winning and Amazon bestselling author, claims authorship of the Blueberry Lane Series, which follows the English, Winslow, Rousseau, Story, and Ambler families of Philadelphia; the four-book, bestselling a modern fairytale series; the stand-alone novel Playing for Love at Deep Haven; and a stand-alone novella, Frosted.

Katy’s first modern fairytale romance, The Vixen and the Vet, was nominated for a RITA® in 2015, and four of her books—The Vixen and the Vet (a modern fairytale), Never Let You Go (a modern fairytale), Falling for Fitz (The English Brothers #2), and By Proxy (Heart of Montana #1)—have been #1 genre bestsellers on Amazon.

Sign up for Katy’s newsletter today: http://www.katyregnery.com!

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AS WE DREAM BY THE FIRE ~ LINE OF FIRE SERIES

BY BECCA BOYD

Copyright © R.L. Syme, 2015

Published by Hummingbird Books

All Rights Reserved.

Created with Vellum

CHAPTER 1

Somewhere, TX – December, 2015

Hudson Peters tried to ignore the forty-fifth repeat of the Sugar-Plum-something-or-other and checked his watch. The jagweeds across the street from his parking spot were the Hollywood Christmas types. Not only did their house sparkle, but it sparkled in freaking time to the Christmas music being broadcast from the loudspeaker attached to the garage. Loud Christmas music.

If only he could have parked on a different street. But no. The dark end of Old Taylor Road was the only place a guy could get a good vantage point on the whole neighborhood. That was the upside of Snob Knob. The downside being, it was full of keepers-up and all their Joneses.

At least it was almost Christmas Eve, then it would be over. The whole scene was a little too Home Alone for his tastes.

The song started over, creepy bells dinging sharply in the empty street. Hudson glanced at his watch. 9:38. It was almost time, and thank God, he’d had about all the waiting he could take.

His phone buzzed. Will Johnson.

“Hello?” Hudson kept his voice quiet, as though anyone could hear him over the choreographed light ballet.

“Anything yet?” Will asked.

“Not over here. What about you?”

Will clucked his tongue. “Nada. And Aidan just called from the next street, too.”

“It’s not quite time yet.”

“Maybe it was a fluke.”

Hudson gave his head a short shake. “Two fires in three days is not a fluke, man. Trust me, I Googled it.”

“You Googled the frequency of Christmas tree fires in small towns in Texas?” His friend laughed and covered the receiver.

“Hey, who’s with you? Did you talk Gray into coming along?”

A nervous pause told Hudson everything he needed to know.

“It’s Audrey, isn’t it?”

Will still didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. He and his new girlfriend might as well have been glued together. Other than at the firehouse, Hudson hadn’t seen much of his friend over the past few weeks.

“She wanted to look at the Christmas lights up here. Gimme a break.” After sundown, anytime after Thanksgiving, the whole hillside was lit up like wildfire.

Grateful that Will couldn’t see him, Hudson allowed himself a nice, long eye roll. His friends had been dropping like flies this last year. First Aidan, then Eli, now Will. Was nothing sacred? A man needed his freedom.

The frenzied end of the carol shook Hudson out of his moody bullshit thinking. He checked his watch again. 9:42.

“This is the right time-window,” he said. “I should go so I can watch for fires.”

“Sure.”

“And you, too. You should watch for fires.”

“Right.”

“Don’t just sit in your dark truck and make out with—”

Will cut him off. “Don’t judge me, dude.”

The connection cut off and his phone went dark. What was with guys in relationships? Did they completely forget about the rest of the world?

They had a job to do, dammit.

Hudson dropped his phone onto the bench seat of his truck and the creepy sound of the stupid bells started up again outside. Between the Small World Christmas experience outside and his friend ignoring his job, Hudson was just about done with all of it.

He scanned the dark street and tried to ignore the flashing lights in his peripheral vision. Other than the shit show to his left, there were a few other houses decked out, and then nothing. No cars, no carolers, no strolling, nothing.

It was almost ten on a school night, so it made sense for the neighborhood to be quiet, but this was eerie.

His watch read 9:44.

The previous two calls had come in at exactly 9:45 at night. It had been Hudson’s idea to stalk the neighborhood where both of the fires had happened. Christmas tree fires were normal, but two in a row was unusual, especially in a town of only thirty thousand people. Even more suspicious was the fact that both fires had happened in the same neighborhood and the 911 calls had come at the same time.

A serial Christmas tree arsonist. Who knew such a thing existed.

A flash down the street set his heartbeat careening and his hand was on his door before he even realized it. But by the time he stopped on the pavement to reorient himself to the situation, the flash was gone. Headlights.

The Christmas carol was louder, the air colder, and Hudson’s nerves rawer, but it was only a car. He sighed and put his hand on his door handle. No fire on Snob Knob tonight, it would appear.

But across the street, next to the crazy Christmas house, Hudson saw another flash. This time, it wasn’t a momentary glimpse of headlights. The house itself was dark, except for a dim glow upstairs. Probably a TV or a night-light. But through the gauzy, white curtains, he could just make out the glow of flames.

Open flames. Open fire.

All his firefighter instincts kicked in and Hudson found himself running at top speed, crossing the street, crossing the lawn, crossing the porch, and kicking in the door.

A scream tore through the previously silent air and Hudson stopped in the middle of a very dark living room. Instead of a blazing Christmas tree, he was shocked to find a wide-eyed woman in a white nightgown, standing in front of a giant pot-belly stove. High flames licked up through the holes.

His instincts drove him toward the fire. It was dangerous for her to have open flames in the house.

Without a word, she hauled back the long, pan-like apparatus in her hand and swung. It smacked Hudson on the side of the head and he went down in a shower of sparks.

CHAPTER 2

Sadie Capshaw stomped at the embers around the guy’s head and tried to collect her wits. She put the chestnuts down on the potbelly stove and swept her sweater coat off the back of the couch to cover herself. Her hands grasped at the empty pockets in panic.

911. She needed to call 911.

The intruder groaned, rolling on the floor. Should she go get a knife? Or try to find one of her uncle’s guns? No. She should call 911.

Did they even have 911 in a tiny town like Somewhere?

Sadie couldn’t make out much in the dark. But she did see the chestnut pan still lying there. The stranger groaned again and attempted to get up.

She grabbed the chestnuts and held them out like a weapon. “Don’t you get up. I’ve called the police.”

He mumbled something she couldn’t understand and Sadie backed up another step.

“I said don’t get up. I mean it, the police are on their way.”

The man rolled onto his back and enunciated carefully. “I’m here to save you.”

Sadie looked around the living room. Was there another intruder here somewhere? She swung the chestnuts around. “You’re the one who broke into my house.”

“To save you.” He pointed to his t-shirt, as though it explained something, but she couldn’t read it in the mostly-dark.

“This is a little extreme for neighborhood watch.”

He pulled the logo toward her: Long Rock County Fire and Rescue. “Firefighter,” he said.

“Well, there’s no fire here, jackass.” She levered the roaster open and moved it down toward the firefighter.

He jumped out of the way. Jittery one.

“I’m just showing you the chestnuts,” Sadie said.

“Chestnuts?” His brows drew together. “What the hell are the chestnuts on fire for?”

“They’re not on fire.” She dropped the roaster beside him, so low, it was almost too heavy to keep steady. He reached out his hand, as though he planned to catch the thing, but she hoisted it back up. “Don’t. You’ll burn yourself,” she warned. “I’m just showing you.”

“I’ve seen chestnuts before, thanks.”

“Then it shouldn’t surprise you to see them being roasted.”

He shook his head and pulled himself into a sitting position. She couldn’t help noticing how nicely flat his stomach was, and how his shoulders filled out that t-shirt.

Stop it, Sadie. The whole point of the stupid list was to replace these thoughts. Although if following the list was going to get her a firefighter in her living room, maybe it was a flawed concept.

She glanced at the potbelly stove and the firefighter’s eyes followed hers. “I had the flames up a little high, maybe, on the stove, so I could actually roast them on an open fire.”

“You’re roasting chestnuts on an open fire?” He leaned an elbow on his knee. “Isn’t that a Christmas cliché?”

Sadie crossed her arms. “You’re a Christmas cliché.”

“What was that?” A smirk rolled across his face. For the first time, she noticed a hint of dimples in his smile.

“Nothing.”

He pushed himself up and kept coming until he was standing. Sadie had to back up before he popped her bubble.

“I’m sorry for busting in on your…” He gestured to the roaster and around the room. “I’m not quite sure what I busted up, to be honest.”

“I was just trying to roast some chestnuts.” Sadie put the roaster on top of the stove, over the lid that had housed the higher flames until she’d closed it.

His eyes stopped on the empty walls, the empty room, the potbelly stove. “Did you just move in or something?”

“No. It’s my uncle’s house.”

“Did your uncle just move in?”

“No.”

“Who’s your uncle?”

Sadie snapped the roaster handle. “Hold up, cowboy. Are you trying to tell me you think I broke into someone’s house to use their open flame stove to roast chestnuts? Really?”

The firefighter shrugged. “I’m sorry. Just trying to do my job.”

“Well, you succeeded in not-saving me from a not-fire. So I’d say you pretty much failed.” She pulled her sweater coat tighter around her.

He grabbed the back of his neck and aw-shucks-maam’d all over her uncle’s living room. “There have been a string of house fires up in this area. We were just trying to be proactive.”

“By breaking and entering?” She hugged herself again and took a step away from him. “Maybe not the best strategy to keep houses safe.”

“I am sorry.”

“Maybe you should leave.” She walked to the door and pulled it open. It yielded quickly, since it hadn’t been latched after the fireman burst through it.

He gave the house one more look-around. “I really am sorry.”

She tried not to answer until she’d ushered him out of the house. There were too many insults on the tip of her tongue and she didn’t trust herself not to do something that would land her in jail.

The firefighter put his hand on the door as she closed it. “I was just trying to keep you safe.”

Sadie closed the door, but it wouldn’t latch. It drifted open and she found the firefighter staring at her with dark green eyes. “I’ll tell you what really makes me feel safe. Not being able to lock my door.”

The tinkling bells of the Nutcracker song that was on repeat next door pounded at Sadie’s blood pressure. Her intruder glanced out at the street and then back at her. “Let me fix this for you.”

Sadie shook her head. “You have done enough.”

“No, I owe you. I should have… I didn’t…”

“You didn’t think. You should have looked at the situation a little more closely.”

“You can’t stay in a house where the door won’t latch.” He put a hand on the door. “I’ll go get some tools and fix it for you.”

An orchestra hit accompanied a flash of lights from the Griswold Family Christmas next door. Sadie looked at where her watch would have been, if she’d been back in Houston. But she’d taken it off for vacation. Her wrist felt naked, as did other things, when the green-eyed fireman looked at her the way he did.

“You’re not gonna find anywhere open this late.” She pushed at the big, heavy door, but it barely moved with his big arm in the way.

“Plus, the wood is all cracked in the jamb.” He leaned over and looked at the lock, then slid a hand through his short hair. “But I could fix this in just a few hours.”

“Just go. I’ll…” Sadie shook her head. She didn’t know what she would do. She couldn’t sit in her house with no front door lock. She didn’t have anywhere else to go—and she couldn’t leave her uncle’s house open, anyhow.

A loud orchestra hit sounded from the house next door, while lights flashed in time, and before long, another one sounded, and another, and another. Sadie expelled a breath. This was why she’d closed the windows. A Christmas to-do list was one thing, but the constant buzzing of carols… the same carol, over and over, all night long. It was driving her nuts.

“I can’t let you stay in this house on your own, ma’am.”

“Miss,” she corrected. “And how do you know I’m alone?”

“Are you alone?” He glanced around her, into the house. “Since no one came downstairs when I…”

“When you broke into my house?”

“Yes, I am sorry about that.”

The frenzied end of the Nutcracker song made her pulse race and race, and by the time the final orchestra hit sounded, she found her breath racing.

The fireman’s jaw was working, and they both stood in muted annoyance, staring at each other and taking deep breaths as the song started again.

“How are you not going crazy with this music?” He thumbed toward the twinkling lights next door.

“By keeping the door closed, mostly.”

His smile broke. “I really am sorry. Please, let me fix the door.”

“You can stop apologizing. I get that you were trying to help.” The orchestra hit made her breath start heaving again. This music was going to be the death of her. “Look, you can’t fix the door right now, and I can’t leave my uncle’s house.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to stay here tonight.” The firefighter pulled a phone out of his pocket and walked to the edge of the porch. The lack of pressure on the door made her lurch forward, and the words he’d uttered made her stomach drop its bottom and slide down into oblivion.

There was absolutely no way she would let a strange man sleep in her house. Regardless of whether her lock worked or not, she wouldn’t feel any safer with a stranger camped out in the guest room. Even one as buff and capable as this one. Maybe especially not with him.

CHAPTER 3

“A nything over there?” Will’s voice was tinny, the closer Hudson got to the annoying Christmas carol speakers. Even at the edge of the porch, he was already getting a headache. Of course, that could have been the skillet to the head, too.

“I thought I had something, but it turned out to be a potbelly stove.”

“We didn’t see anything here. I think we’ll pack up and go home. Audrey wants to watch Elf, so—”

“I should stick around up here for a while.”

Will’s chuckle was hard. “You know we’re past 9:45, right? You can stop working so hard on your off-hours.”

“I know. I just… I need to take care of something.”

From behind Hudson, a shrill voice called out, “You are absolutely not staying the night here.”

“Who the hell was that?” Will asked, but Hudson almost couldn’t hear the words, he’d gotten so close to the blazing Nutcracker.

“No one. Never mind. Just… I won’t be back at the station.” Hudson was about to end the call when Will’s laughter rang out into the cold air.

“That’s a girl, isn’t it? Tell me you found a girl.”

“Go watch Elf and leave me alone.” Hudson clicked off the call with a huff. He turned back to the chestnuts girl. “I’ll sleep out here, don’t worry. I have a sleeping bag in my truck. I’ll go get the door first thing and install it myself.”

She crossed her arms over what looked to be a pretty nice rack and Hudson had to force his eyes away. Not good to be ogling the valuables when he already seemed like a stalker.

“I don’t like this plan,” she said.

“I’m not leaving you here with a door hanging open like that.”

“Then you shouldn’t have kicked it in.” She stuck out her bottom lip like a little cherry for him to bite.

He was in a biting mood.

“I can’t apologize enough, miss…”

“That’s right. You can’t.” She looked at the ground in front of the door and then out at his truck. “Well, you can’t sleep out here. You’ll catch your death, and it’s supposed to ice tonight.”

“I have a winter-rated backpacking mummy pod that you could use in the Arctic. I’ll be fine.” Hudson vaulted over the railing and ran to his truck.

She called something after him, but he needed to get away. Away from her and the music and the lights and her. Mostly her. He didn’t like feeling like he’d disappointed someone or let them down, and all she seemed interested in was reminding him that he’d made a mistake. No points for offering to correct said mistake. Just a lot of attitude about…

Okay, yes, he made a mistake. But he would correct it, and he would sure as shit never do it again.

“What did you say?” he asked as he jogged back to her porch, where she still waited and shivered.

“I said why in the hell do you have an Arctic sleeping bag?”

“It’s a pod.” He unrolled it so she could see the wide-shoulder, hip-hugging shape that would keep him warm in most any temperature.

“Never mind,” she said. “You can’t sleep out here. It’s supposed to ice.”

“I told you.” He held up the neon-colored bag.

“I heard the Arctic whatever ranked blah-blah. You’re not sleeping on my porch like some vagrant.”

Hudson opened his mouth to argue, but she made a shut-it gesture with her hand and he couldn’t help chuckling. She had just shushed him. Damn. He hadn’t been shushed since grade school.

“I said you’re not sleeping on my porch.”

“Well, I’m not leaving.”

“Then you’ll have to come inside.” She walked back into the house and ran up the stairs. Hudson was too dumbfounded to follow. Still. Even with his pod, he’d rather not sleep in the open air.

He shut the door behind him and put a chair in front of it so it stayed closed. From his hiking pack, he pulled out the toothbrush and toothpaste and passed the potbelly stove on his way to the kitchen. The fire still burned, but low and slow, barely enough to throw out heat.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs and just as he was about to spit, he heard her yelling through the house.

“Hey! Hey, you! Fireman!” she was calling.

Hudson stuck his toothbrush in his mouth and ran out into the living room.

Her wide eyes immediately calmed and her nostrils flared. “Where the hell did you go?”

Hudson pointed to the kitchen with his toothbrush. “I was getting ready for bed.”

She shook her head and turned in a circle. On the floor beside his pack, she had piled a bunch of blankets and a couple of pillows, a copy of Miracle on 34th Street, and a pair of slippers.

“I appreciate the thought, but I think I’ll just go to sleep.”

“That’s not for you, cowboy. That’s for me.” She took a deep breath and turned back to him. “I want you not to leave my sight, ok? Just don’t be anywhere in the house without me.”

Hudson looked between her and the pile of things. “You’re going to sleep down here?”

“I can’t let you be alone in my uncle’s house. And since you’re going to have to sleep inside, I’ll sleep down here on the couch.”

He held up his hand. “That’s really not necessary. I’ll give you the number of my captain, I’ll leave you my driver’s license. I promise, I’m not going to steal anything, but if for some reason, something went missing, you’d know who to call.”

“Nope. Not negotiable.” She spread out one of the blankets. “I’m going to sleep here, and you can be by the door. If you go anywhere in the house without me, I’ll know. I’m a very light sleeper.”

Hudson thumbed back toward the kitchen. “Is it okay if I go back and finish brushing my teeth? Or would you like to be present for me spitting in your sink?”

She grimaced. “I think you can do that on your own.”

“And if I need to use the bathroom? Is there one? Can I do that on my own, too?”

“Okay, so my plan isn’t perfect.” She threw up defensive hands. “But you know what I mean.”

He rolled his eyes the whole way to the kitchen. There were plenty of people in Somewhere, TX not to trust, but not at the firehouse. You could trust them, if you trusted anyone. He got the feeling she didn’t.

By the time he came back to the living room, she had spread out her bedroll of sorts, on the couch near the stairs, climbed under the covers, and started reading her book.

“I thought that was just a movie,” he said.

She raised an eyebrow.

“The Miracle on 34th Street. I thought it was a movie.”

“It is. This came out at the same time.” She held the book in front of her face, almost hiding from him. “They said I should watch it, but I decided to read it instead. Cheaper.”

He stowed the toothbrush. “They?”

“What?”

“You said someone told you to watch it.”

She gave a little shake of her head. “It’s not important.”

“No, I think it’s important. Someone told you to do something and you’re ignoring them. That’s always important.”

With a sarcastic twist to her mouth, she finally said, “Y’know what I just realized, cowboy?”

Hudson unzipped the side of his sleeping bag. “That you forgot to eat your cliché chestnuts?”

“No, that—”

“You forgot to brush your teeth?”

“No, that—” She passed her tongue over her top teeth and Hudson couldn’t help a small laugh. Her movements were so reluctant, it was almost like he pried that one from the depths of her resolve.

“You did, though,” he said.

She launched off the couch and scurried up the stairs, turning at the top and looking back down at him. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Hudson climbed into his pod and held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m not going to touch anything.”

In a few seconds, she returned with a toothbrush buzzing in her mouth. “Ah reyuwized ah dofnoyur nay.”

“You might want to wait until you spit before you try that one again.” Hudson let a wide smile pass over his face. He was genuinely having fun, even in this strange situation. “I didn’t catch a word of that one, sweetheart.”

He knew he had a disarming smile, so he was surprised when she not only remained tense, but glared at him.

She walked around the corner and he heard her spit, run the water, and click her toothbrush. Echoing from inside the bathroom, he heard, “I realized I don’t know your name.”

The water turned off and she slid into the hallway. Something comforting struck him in the easy way she stood against the door frame.

“I’m Hudson Peters.” He folded his hands behind his head and allowed himself a nice, long stare, for the briefest of moments. She drew in a corner of her mouth and regarded him.

“I’ve never heard of you.”

“I’m not sure how to take that.” He tilted his head to one side. “Should you have heard of me?”

“I mean, you’re not on any watch list, you’re not a famous killer, and you don’t have a recognizably creepy name.” She climbed back into the little nest she’d built for herself on the grey, linen-covered couch.

Hudson leaned on his side and propped himself up on his elbow. “Y’know, killers are never famous until they get caught.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re hilarious, cowboy.”

“Well, I do try.”

She flipped open her book and read for a few seconds. Hudson decided she wasn’t going to reciprocate, and flipped onto his back, keeping his hands behind his head for comfort.

“Sadie,” she said into her book.

“What’s that?”

“My name. It’s Sadie.”

“Sadie what?”

“Sadie Capshaw.”

“Oh, good.” Hudson made sure she was peeking over her book cover when he added, “I’ve never heard of you, either.”

That got a smile out of her before she settled back down in to her blankets and turned another page. Hudson wasn’t sure why he liked that smile so much, but he could stand to see it again.

CHAPTER 4

Sadie awoke with her heart pounding. The room was dark. She wasn’t sure where she was. Someone was here. After a few seconds, she recognized the shape of the room, the faint glow of the stove, then the lump next to the door.

The previous night’s events sailed into her memory. Chestnuts. Firefighter. Door broken. Man. Man in her space.

She pulled the blanket up to her chin. A familiar, fluttery feeling boiled low in her stomach. Man in her space.

She reached for the book she’d finished before she fell asleep. The fireman must have turned off the light, because the room glowed dimly, from the remains of the fire in the potbelly. She could smell the remnant of the half-cooked chestnuts, smoky and almost earthy.

There was always tomorrow for the chestnuts. When the stranger had invaded her house, she’d forgotten about the list.

Sadie opened the book and pulled it out. A piece of paper with half a Christmas tree printed on one side, The Christmas Heartbreak List had little green mistletoes hanging off the capitalized letters that started each word.

She was only half done with the list, but all the easy stuff was behind her. She couldn’t cross off the chestnuts yet, but she could cross off Miracle on 34th Street, at least.

For being a supposed heartbreak-healer, there was an awful lot of romance on the list. Things she might have done with Kyle. Watching romancey Christmas movies and baking, making a snowman. Her sister must not have read the list very closely when she sent it, because there were a fair amount of things that would increase heartbreak.

Chestnuts had seemed the most innocuous.

“What’s that?” A male voice broke her silence and Sadie jumped. The list dropped from her hands and onto the floor.

Hudson. That was his name. The man who had invaded her space.

“I didn’t know you were awake.” Sadie reached for the list and refolded it. “Sorry if I woke you.”

“You didn’t.”

Across the room, Hudson’s mouth moved, but most of his body was shrouded in darkness. He was at the very edge of the fire’s glow and most of what she could see of him was an outline.

“You were awake?”

“I’ve been awake,” he said.

Sadie turned on the couch so she could see him without craning her head around. He was on his back, arms crossed behind his head, just as he had been when she last remembered seeing him.

“All night?” she asked.

“It’s only midnight.”

That was why the fire was still at least a little active. It had only been a couple of hours since she’d stoked it. Maybe she should put another log on, just to keep the heat going, although the house seemed to be holding it well enough.

Sadie pulled the covers back and sat up. The fireman sat up at the same time.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was dark, low, and smooth like fresh coffee.

Sadie gave a long, tired blink and yawned. “I was going to put another log on the fire.”

“I did that about half an hour ago.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, the fire was getting low and I didn’t know if there was other heating in here. I also moved your weapon into the kitchen sink.”

Sadie shook her head. “Weapon?”

“The roaster box.”

“Oh, the chestnuts.” She stifled a laugh and put her feet under the blankets.

“Yes, chestnuts.” He mirrored her movement and was on his back in double-time. “I don’t get that.”

“What?”

“Why you were roasting nuts over a box stove.”

Sadie picked up Miracle and flipped the pages nervously. She could be honest with him, but she barely knew him. He didn’t need to know about her past.

“Haven’t you ever heard of the chestnuts, roasting…?”

“Roasting on an open fire. Got it. But I’ve never seen anyone actually do it before.”

She flicked at the cover of the book and laid it on the ground. “Well, I’ve never had anyone kick down my door before. New experiences all around.”

His laugh was quiet, but it trilled something inside her. Sadie crossed her arms over her chest, trying to ignore the threatening emotions.

She’d been afraid of this when Gaby sent her the list in the first place. Instead of helping her get over Kyle, it was awakening things that she’d wanted to bury.

The normal Sadie Capshaw never would have stood for a strange man in her home—especially one that wasn’t really hers. She would have called the police in a heartbeat.

But heartbroken Sadie Capshaw was hungry for male attention. She wanted to prove to Kyle and the world that she could still get a guy. Why else would she sleep ten feet from a man who could have slit her throat?

“I am sorry for that,” he said.

Sadie glanced at him. His features were tight, the muscles in his arms contracted. The shadows gave him a sort of mythical profile, like an ancient warrior standing guard over some treasure.

But that would make her the treasure. Hardly.

“Hudson, right?” she said.

“Hudson Peters.”

“Well, Hudson Peters, you are forgiven.” She turned her back on him. “Good night.”

In the silence, Sadie could hear a faint echo of that blasted Christmas music. It was time for the night to be over. It wasn’t good for her to stay awake and continue to indulge these romantic fantasies. Some gallant knight protecting her virtue. That kind of stuff was for black and white movies and Jane Austen novels.

As Sadie drifted off to sleep, she tried to ignore the aching memories and the desire for her life to line up and salute Mr. Darcy.

HUDSON LISTENED for Sadie’s breath to pattern. He counted each exhale like sheep bouncing over a fence, but it didn’t help him fall asleep. Once he knew she was down again, he rose as stealthily as he could and threw another log in the fire. She shouldn’t have left it burning when she went to sleep. That could have been dangerous.

Good thing he was around to tend it.

The scent of burning wood permeated the room. Maybe that was the source of the comfort he felt. It felt like being out on the mountainside.

Maybe he should get a wood-burning stove for his house.

He liked the plain white brick behind it, the raised black platform, and the old, nostalgic cast-iron exterior. Made the place feel like home, even though it was empty.

Hudson let the fire warm his backside. He’d stripped to his boxers and opened the ventilator in the bottom of his sleep pod, but being out in the cool air of the open living room gave him more of a chill than he expected.

On the floor beside Sadie’s couch lay the book she’d fallen asleep reading. A piece of folded paper had fallen out. Hudson bent to pick it up and saw the word Heartbreak in big block letters sticking out of the top.

With a quick glance at Sadie’s rhythmically moving shoulders, he slid the paper out of the book and unfolded it. The top of the sheet read The Christmas Heartbreak List. Below was a series of numbered actions. Some had been crossed out.

Bake Christmas cookies for a neighbor and Watch the Nutcracker ballet had double lines through them, but Roast chestnuts on an open fire and Build a snowman in the meadow were left unmolested.

Some of the items were from well-known Christmas songs, while others were just random Christmas-themed actions. The open flame he’d seen from the road certainly made more sense with this list as context, but one word stuck out to him. Heartbreak.

He folded the paper and placed it back in the middle of the book. As he placed it back on the floor, Hudson looked down at Sadie. Was she heartbroken?

He had certainly been there. Maybe not with some chick list of things to get him over it. More Jager, less baking. But if Sadie was heartbroken, that might explain why she seemed so contentious.

A rush of exhilaration pounded through him. Maybe he could do something to soften the blow of whatever jackass had hurt her. Just as a Christmas pay-it-forward kind of thing.

Hudson went back to his warm pod and looked up at the ceiling, trying to think of something he could do to make up for his having broken her door. Nothing on that list, or she’d know he saw it. But something that would make her forget about her heartbreak, just for a bit.

That’s what drinking with his buddies had done for him when Kayla did her walk-out dance. He would do something spectacular. That was his thing. Go big or don’t go at all.

CHAPTER 5

Sadie’s nose was awake before she was. The robust scent of coffee warmed her and for a short moment, she couldn’t remember where she was. The room was vaguely familiar, but the smell was foreign.

She stood and stretched, stepping on something vaguely slippery with one bare foot. The book moved under the pressure of her weight.

Right. She’d been reading fairy tales and making chestnuts.

Being in a different bed every day for weeks was starting to get to her. Just when she thought she’d be able to wake in a familiar place, a fireman had burst into her house and she had to sleep on Uncle Henry’s couch instead of the plush, warm bed upstairs.

But she’d be back in that bed after the fireman got out of her hair.

Sadie shook her head and inhaled deeply. The scent of coffee was unmistakable. She hadn’t been dreaming.

Where was there coffee?

The bed by the door had been cleaned up and the little lounge chair, which was the only other furniture in the sparse front room, had been moved in front of the door to hold it closed. A pile of the folded sleeping bag and backpack sat on the seat of the chair.

You almost wouldn’t know someone had broken in through the door, except that the wood of the jamb was still cracked and the lock was visible. Come to that, the porch was visible, through the hole of the missing wood.

Sadie’s hands went around her body, but she found she wasn’t cold. A log still burned in the wood stove. Or burned again.

Who was this firefighter? Mr. Homemaker?

She ventured toward the kitchen, and the smoky coffee smell intensified. Just past the bathroom, she finally got a glimpse of Hudson, standing over the sink with his shirt off, splashing water on his face.

At first, she didn’t make a sound. The muscles in his back rippled and furrowed with each movement. Sadie admired the landscape of his back. She’d always had a thing for backs.

He didn’t have the scary, veiny muscles that looked like they’d been born in a gym. But the definition was enough to make her want to run her fingers across the broad expanse of his skin, and down the lines that disappeared under the white band of his boxers.

She missed the male back. It was a beautiful thing.

But before she realized it, she wasn’t looking at his back any longer, but at a belly button. And abs… and eyes.

Wide, dark green eyes.

She covered a shy smile with the sleeve of her sweater. “Good morning. Thanks again for staying.”

“I didn’t mean to…” Hudson pulled his shirt over his head. “I was just trying to wash up.”

But the movement only drew Sadie’s attention to the way his chest muscles tightened and contracted as he slid the fabric over them. He was definitely easy on the eyes.

“I smelled the coffee.”

He pointed at the stove. “I saw your French Press and I have some great coffee I carry for camping. It’s small-batch hand-roasted from this monastery in the mountains of Brazil.”

Sadie’s heart dropped to her stomach. “Is that coffee in there now?”

“Yeah. Let me pour you some.” He pulled a mug off the hooks under the cabinet.

Her face tightened and she moved her lips nervously. “Thanks, but I’m ok.”

“Really.” His smile was easy, calm. “It’s the best coffee you’ve ever had, I’ll bet.” He poured a cup and handed it to her. “Just try it. I had planned a big breakfast, but I couldn’t find any food in the house. I was on my way to the store when you… well, anyway. Here’s coffee at least. And good coffee, too.”

She fisted her hands inside the ends of her sweater and looked at the beverage warily. “I’m ok. Thanks.”

His earnest features opened and he held the cup closer to her covered hands. Sadie backed up a small step and Hudson stopped.

“I can’t,” she said.

With lips in a tight line, he put the cup on the counter. “More for me, then.”

“It’s not that I don’t… appreciate… it’s just…” Sadie looked longingly at her press and the murky liquid. “I’m allergic.”

Hudson’s mouth dropped open.

“You don’t have to apologize,” she said quickly. “It’s not something you see every day.”

“I wondered why there was no coffee in the kitchen.” He leaned on the counter. “Damn, I am an ass.”

“No, really. It’s not a big deal.”

He picked up the press. “I’ll wash this out.”

Tears burned up the back of Sadie’s throat and nose, and she couldn’t speak for a moment. She knew from experience, that wouldn’t be enough.

“I appreciate that.”

He moved quickly, dumping coffee and grounds into the disposal and washing out the ruined glass cylinder. It had already absorbed the damaging liquid into its pores. She wouldn’t be able to reuse it, and she didn’t have money to replace it.

Just like the door.

The sadness crept on her without her realizing it. Maybe it was the sight of Hudson trying to wash out the French press. Maybe it was the memory of Kyle having ruined her last one with his special coffee. Maybe it was Christmas and being alone for the first time.

Dammit. She should have gone to Hawaii with Uncle Henry and his family, after all. Then she wouldn’t have been here to light the stove, or have the fireman burst through the door, or have him ruin her tea press. She’d have to rummage around in the pantry and see if Aunt Helen had left any tea bags by accident.

She might luck out.

He dried the press with the same towel he’d used on his face, and Sadie tried to laugh. It was funny, wasn’t it? But her sense of humor had abandoned her when Kyle did.

“Good as new.” He held the press out to her and she smiled, but crossed her arms.

“Thanks, Hudson.”

The glass cylinder hovered in the air, and when she didn’t take it, he extended it farther. “I can make you some of your tea, if you want. I think the water is still hot.”

“Thank you, but I don’t drink tea in the morning,” she lied.

“Well, I will just carve an apology into my forehead. I seem to be messing things up everywhere.”

“I appreciate the gesture.” Sadie tried to lift the corners of her mouth into a smile, but the tears were about to loose themselves, and she couldn’t afford to start crying in front of a stranger. “I think I’ll head upstairs and shower. I should be fine with just the chair in front of the door if you want to take off.”

His eyebrows knit together. “I need to go get the door when the hardware store opens.”

“You really don’t have to do that.” Sadie hugged herself tighter and willed the tears not to come. Please, just go before I cry again. She’d been crying too much in these last months. No more crying.

“It’s my responsibility. I broke the door. It will only take me a few hours to fix, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Thanks.” She backed toward the hallway as the first tear escaped. “I’m going to head upstairs and shower.”

Hudson’s steps behind her echoed along the hall, but Sadie was just about ready to run for it. She wiped at her cheek.

“I don’t want to leave you here alone.” His tone was kind and deep and it broke Sadie’s heart.

She didn’t turn around, and kept up her progress up the stairs. “I’ll be fine. Just go.”

When she reached the top of the stairs, Sadie sagged against the wall and let the tears fall. Her cheeks were soaked before long, but she heard Hudson gather his things and put on his pants and move the chair in front of the door on his way out.

Once she heard the low hum of a truck engine running, she let the tears come with more force and sobbed into her sweater. This fireman who’d breached her carefully controlled space was re-awakening things she’d tried to kill when Kyle left.

But when her door was repaired, he’d be gone. She couldn’t afford to let him in.

As Sadie peeled off her clothes and climbed into the shower, she couldn’t help wondering if the heartbreak list was doing any good. Maybe it was time to scrap the whole thing and try another strategy all together.

Perhaps the local nunnery was taking applications…

CHAPTER 6

Hudson was surprised by how much he could sweat on a cold December day, but he was trying to work as quickly as he could to get Sadie’s door finished before dark.

He took off around the house to find Sadie—couldn’t put in the door on his own. The kitchen and dining room were both empty, as was the front room and the attached conservatory or music room, or whatever it was called.

He wasn’t into Clue or up on all the appropriate Snob Knob names for foyers or libraries or whatever. But there were several of them, and they were all empty.

Not just void of Sadie, but completely empty. The refrigerator had no food, and it looked like all of Sadie’s appliances were in a row on the counter. One French press, one tea pot, one small toaster oven, a few bowls, and some mugs hanging from the cabinet on hooks. Even the silverware had been sitting out. The drawers were empty.

He went up the stairs off the kitchen, on the way to what must have been the interior garage entrance and laundry or mud room. Or both, given the size of the place.

Hudson continued to call Sadie’s name, with no answer. He checked room after room—all with no furniture—until he came to the last one, at the end of the hall.

The big bed took up most of the room. By the big bay window, Sadie sat at a long table, in front of a laptop. White stringy-looking headphones plugged her ears and she nodded to something with a beat that echoed out through the room.

“Sadie,” he said. No response. The music was pretty loud.

Hudson raised his voice. “Sadie.” Still nothing.

He approached and spoke a little louder. “Sadie.”

She turned, wide-eyed, shoulders up, and pulled the headphones out of her ears. The peal of an electric guitar and drums playing Carol of the Bells made him smile.

Hudson glimpsed a few words on the screen. Holiday Stroll in Somewhere, TX. A picture of a tall, slim, silver-haired Santa Claus graced one corner of the screen.

The girl was bathing herself in Christmas.

Her spine straightened as the guitar played all the way up the scale and she put the headphones down on the desk. That did not, unfortunately, lessen the volume of the holiday rock screaming out of them. Hudson and Sadie locked eyes and laughter spilled out of them both.

“What is that?” He covered his mouth. “I mean, it’s great.”

“Just some Christmas music.” Her smile lit those pretty brown eyes of hers, and she reached for the mouse. Soon, the music faded out.

“Christmas for Metalheads?”

A tiny panic gripped him as a serious look passed over her face. Their easy banter had been a relief for him, and they’d fallen into joking so quickly after meeting. Perhaps he’d misjudged her tolerance for sarcasm.

But a smile finally lifted the corners of her lips and Hudson found himself relaxing.

“Trans-Siberian Orchestra, if you must know.”

“Loud enough? I mean, I’ve been calling your name for five minutes.”

She pressed her lips together. “I’m sorry. I just… I’m trying to listen to all these CDs, and the noise from the saw was so loud.”

“Sorry about that. I had to saw through all the nails that held the door in place. It can get noisy.”

“No, it’s fine. I just turned it up… not a problem.”

“Why are you listening to Christmas CDs? Are you doing a concert or something?”

Sadie waved a hand at the computer. “No, I was trying to get some work done, but then I started looking for Christmas things to do in Somewhere. Have you heard about this?”

“The Christmas Stroll?”

“Holiday Stroll.”

Hudson laughed. “Yeah, it’s grown a bit over the years.”

“Have you gone before?”

“I haven’t.”

“I’m supposed to… I mean, I wanted to try out a local Christmas event. I thought this might work.”

He leaned on the desk and caught a brief whiff of her clean hair. Hudson hadn’t seen her since she’d showered, and her hair was dry, but the shampoo she used made his mouth water.

“Is that… is your… does your hair smell like…” Hudson trailed off. He wasn’t quite sure how to say, your hair makes me hungry, but there had to be a way without sounding creepy.

“Cherries,” she finished for him. “Yeah.”

“I’ve never smelled someone’s hair and…” He stopped himself again. Never smelled someone’s hair and been hungry before.

Seriously. Stalkers said these things.

“Have Yourself a Cherry Christmas,” she said.

Hudson had to stop himself from laughing. She was so serious. It was adorable.

“Is that a song?” he asked with a smirk.

“Shampoo.” She ran her fingers through her thick, dark hair and threw it over her shoulder, giving him another nose-full of cherries. “You said my hair smelled like food. That’s the name of the shampoo I used.”

“Christmas shampoo?”

She nodded, with a grave look, as though everyone in the world should be using Christmas shampoo this time of year. “Have Yourself a Cherry Little Christmas.”

“Right. Well, now you’ve made me forget why I came up here at all.”

“Why did you come up here?” She pushed the laptop closed. “Are you finished already?”

“Not quite done yet.” He pressed his palms into his jeans. “I need some help.”

She was out of her chair before he could get a word in. “That’s fine, I was taking a break from work, anyway.”

Sadie practically ran down the stairs ahead of him. She had on these tight leggings that accentuated her long legs, and good God, of all things, socks with candy canes on them.

The candy canes and Christmas shampoo made him pause. He wondered if they were on her breakup list—he hadn’t read it closely enough to know for certain.

She slid on shoes in the kitchen and padded out to the door. The opening let a swath of bright sunlight into the house.

“Looks like one of those rare sunny winter days.” She shielded her eyes with her hand. “What do you need me to do?”

Hudson stepped through the opening. “Let me put the weather strip down first and then we’ll need to walk the door into place.”

She followed him onto the porch. The neighbors had thankfully not turned on the Christmas song of death yet, and Hudson had contemplated minimum safe distance as far as dark was concerned.

“I’m never going to be able to listen to that fairy song again without wanting to put my eye out.” He knelt in front of the opening and Sadie laughed.

“The one with the lights next door?”

Hudson nodded. “I think I’d like to find their sound box and set fire to it.”

“Careful,” she nudged him with her knee, “I have an in with the fire department.”

A warmth spread through his chest and he stopped piping caulk. He met her eyes. “You do have that.”

Sadie paused for a long moment, her knee still on his side, and he could have sworn she pushed into him farther. She blinked.

“You seem to know what you’re doing with this door.”

He finished the weather strip and cleared his throat. He didn’t like the way he’d wanted to have her touch him again.

“I’d better know what I’m doing.” He gestured to the door and stood. “Ok, now if you pick up that side, then we just glide it in.”

“Why should you know what you’re doing?”

“I built my own house,” he said.

They moved the door and it settled tightly into the opening he’d prepped for it. Hudson smiled. He loved that moment when all the preparation yielded smooth work.

“Wow.” Sadie slapped her hands on her thighs and stepped back to admire the door. “You built your own house?”

“Yeah. It took me awhile. But after my buddy Aidan built his, I decided I wanted to build mine.” Hudson joined her and looked over their handiwork.

“So, if someone had to break down my door, I should at least be glad it was someone who could fix it.” Sadie tried to smile, but there was too bittersweet a note for it to look genuine.

Hudson opened the door and gestured for her to walk through it. “This one is a little heavier. Should hold up better if another jackass tries to break in.”

She held his eyes for a moment and smiled. “I don’t think you’re a jackass. You were just trying to do your job.”

“I’m glad I had time to replace it.” He ushered her inside the house and picked up the shims.

“Do you still need me?” She slid her shoes off and put them beside the chair. “I can stay if you do.”

Hudson turned the shims in his hands and licked his lips. He wasn’t sure if he could say that he wanted her to stay. This was all his fault, and he should be fixing it, not trying to have a moment alone with a woman who was basically a stranger, not to mention a heartbroken girl on the rebound.

But he knew what heartbreak felt like, and he felt bad that she seemed to be going through this on her own. He shrugged.

“I wouldn’t say no to some help. But if you have to work, I completely understand.”

Sadie glanced in the direction of the stairs and scrunched up her face. “Do I have to work? No. Should I work? Probably.”

He waved at her with the shims. “Then by all means, go. I can do the rest of this on my own. The only thing I really needed you for was putting in the door.”

Sadie took a few steps toward the stairs. “I can help if you need me.”

“Go. I got it. If you get bored, come on down and I promise to make fun of the Nutcracker in your presence.”

That got a smile out of her. He liked her smile more than he should. And he watched her walk away for far too long. And he enjoyed the view way too much for his own damn good.

CHAPTER 7

Sadie stared at the computer screen. She was tempted to pull the Somewhere Christmas Activities screen back up. It would be so much easier to forget spreadsheets and start planning the days until Christmas. She only had a couple of days to get through the rest of her list, and Sadie Capshaw was a finisher.

But she also needed to finish the project spreadsheets before she technically went on vacation for Christmas break. The restlessness had settled in after her dimpled firefighter had caught her listening to Christmas music.

Not her firefighter, of course.

Just Hudson.

She would just about get through a line of projections, and then she would start thinking about whether or not Hudson needed help, and whether or not Hudson needed a sandwich, and whether or not Hudson needed some tea.

But she couldn’t let herself get distracted. She needed to focus. Power through this.

It was getting to be right around dinner time. She had just about enough bread and peanut butter left to make one more set of sandwiches. Uncle Henry’s check should be in today’s mail.

Sadie checked the clock one more time. She should probably get down to the mailbox, come to think of it. That needed to be deposited.

It wasn’t until she was halfway down the hall that she realized she’d started smiling. And not just a relaxed, comfortable smile. There was a noticeable build of anticipation starting on her tongue and spreading through her whole body.

Why did she want to see Hudson? He was just there to fix the door. And she needed to get over Kyle. Not have a rebound.

That wasn’t on the list.

Sadie padded down the stairs and looked around. No more tools spread there. The used hand towel had been neatly replaced on the oven handle. Glasses and plates had been washed and set to dry on the dish rack.

She continued into the living room. His tool box was gone. The door was framed and the plastic had been peeled off the glass. His pack, clothes, and things were gone.

A note sat on the chair and Sadie couldn’t help losing her smile as she picked it up.

Sadie,

You’re busy, so I cleaned up and I’m headed home. I can’t apologize enough for what I did. Your front door keys are on the counter, next to your new French press.

Christmas is a hard time for a lot of people, and I wish you a good one. With a cherry on top and everything.

-Hudson

Tears stung Sadie’s eyes and she sank into the chair. Even when he was leaving, he managed to make her smile. That went a long way this holiday season.

She ran her finger over his name. It surprised her how much she’d been hoping to see his face when she came down those stairs, and how heavy everything felt, knowing he was gone.

Something struck her about the note. Your new French press. She made her way back into the kitchen. Sure enough, a big silver box with a red bow sat beside the fridge.

Her lungs constricted as she flipped open the tag. It read: For Sadie, who shouldn’t have to pay for my mistakes. It wasn’t signed, but it didn’t take a Mensa to figure out who had written the note.

The tears that had threatened now saturated her cheeks. She wiped at them with the hand that held the note and Hudson’s name flashed in front of her eyes.

How was it possible that the best thing to happen to her all Christmas break might just be that some idiot broke into her house trying to save her from her breakup list?

HUDSON SAT in his truck outside the fire station for a long time before he decided to leave behind the last 24 hours and re-enter his real life. Will and Aidan were both upstairs and had been texting him about his whereabouts for long enough, Hudson knew they’d eventually send someone after him.

He had sort of enjoyed being domestic. Replacing a door, buying a coffee press. It wasn’t quite jumping off the Hoover Dam, but those moments when he made Sadie smile had been almost as much of a rush as anything he’d ever done.

But he didn’t want to be the rebound guy, and he knew what it took to get over heartbreak. Maybe he’d stop by her house after Christmas and see how the door was treating her.

His phone buzzed and Hudson left his truck behind. He stuffed the device in his pocket and clocked in. The start of a shift was just what he needed to take his mind off Sadie.

“I’m here,” he called into the hangar when he arrived. He picked up his turnout gear and stowed it. Aidan popped out from behind the truck.

“Where have you been?”

“I’m late. Sue me.”

Aidan shrugged. “Too expensive. Where have you been?”

“Picking up stuff.”

Will Johnson stood in the open swinging door and Hudson could smell something on the grill. It must have been Matt’s turn to cook.

“Picking up what?” Will asked, picking up Aidan’s razzing.

“Is there something else we could talk about?” Hudson slid a hand on the back of his neck. “Like maybe catching me up on the last shift, or giving me my work duty or something that is actually about work?”

“You disappeared last night, man.” Will smirked. “What happened?”

Aidan slid his eyes up toward the ceiling. “We’ve got a bet board in the kitchen. We need the details.”

“I’ve got twenty on chlamydia.” Will’s brows wagged up and down. “Come on. Where have you been? We’ve been texting you all day.”

“Yeah, what happened to Joe’s Bar and Raiders’ football?”

Hudson shook his head. “It was my day off. I had stuff to do.”

His friends exchanged a look that said far more than he liked, but he wasn’t going to give in. He’d never hear the end of it if he told them the truth.

“What mountain did you climb, what river did you ride, what girl did you bang?” Matt’s voice rang out in the open garage, although Hudson couldn’t see him.

“None, none, and none.” Hudson shrugged. “It was a slow day.”

The three firemen hung on each other’s shoulders and traded elbows to the ribs. When Hudson didn’t bite, Will chimed in, “Come on, dude. We’re all out of the game. Need a little vicarious living.”

“There was no gaming. I just did stuff around the house.” He brushed past them, hoping to find one of the senior guys on the squad so he could escape. “When’s the crew meeting?”

“Ten minutes,” Will said.

At the mention of work, Aidan was suddenly all business. He caught up to Hudson and locked step. “Andy’s gone, so I’ll run it. A couple of the C-squad guys are gonna be out on the street tonight.”

Hudson almost kissed Aidan on the mouth for changing the subject. It was about time.

“I was out last night. I didn’t see anything. Neither did Will.”

“Neither did I. Because there wasn’t a fire.”

“That’s what he said.”

“You mean, that’s what she said,” Matt yelled. He waited for his friends to laugh, but the moment had passed. Hudson exhaled a long gust of air and found Aidan giving him one of those perceptive grins.

Idiots, all.

“Ok, I’ll see you at the crew meeting. I need to hit the head.”

“You’ll be cleaning that head today.” Aidan called after him. But Hudson didn’t care. It was his turn on the wheel, and he was fine with shit duty. Anything to get away from the nose-mobiles out there.

Something hadn’t been sitting well with Hudson. He hadn’t eaten since Sadie’s sandwich, so it wasn’t food. But he didn’t feel the same comfortable, banter-y ease that he usually felt with the guys on his crew.

The last 24 hours had left him feeling different. It was like hang gliding. You experienced a whole different perspective on the earth, and when you landed, nothing seemed the same. A dark shadow of the old world.

A day with Sadie, and suddenly he was T.S. Freaking Eliot.

Hudson sprayed his face with water from the detachable shower head, wiped his skin with one of the white towels, and smacked his cheeks a few times. He needed to get his mind off Sadie, and shut up the part of him that wanted to wax eloquent. He had a job to do, and he needed to focus.

But in the crew meeting, or while cleaning the toilets, or when eating Matt’s burgers, Hudson couldn’t stop seeing Sadie’s smile. That rare moment when she broke through her sarcasm or her reserve, and she honestly just appreciated the happy-ness around her. He had to do something to take her mind off her heartbreak. And it had to be really good.

Unforgettable.

CHAPTER 8

Sadie only had five chestnuts left, and she wasn’t going to make the same mistake she had the night before. Instead of an indoor open fire in Uncle Henry’s living room, she went out back to the fire pit.

But she was going to check off the stupid chestnut thing if it killed her. She already wouldn’t be able to do the snowman thing. No snow in Somewhere.

She needed to get through the list and through the heartbreak, because she had a lot of work to get done, and she couldn’t afford to take days off sitting around daydreaming about firefighters. Maybe she could work Christmas Day, after the list was done.

The heavy sweater kept enough of the chill at bay that she wasn’t shivering when she started the fire. But by the time it was big enough to roast the chestnuts, she felt the tiniest shiver.

“Howdy there!” a deep voice called from behind her and Sadie allowed herself a momentary thrill. Had Hudson come back?

But when she turned around, it was just her neighbor. Big, kind-faced man in a cowboy hat with a giant black mustache bristling like a broom. She couldn’t place his name, although she remembered meeting him with Uncle Henry once.

Sadie waved back. “Hi.”

“Merry Christmas.” He came toward her and Sadie pulled the sweater tighter, but the man stopped at the tree on the edge of his property and flipped a switch that lit up his whole house.

“You, too.”

“Say, you tell Henry we’re all pulling for him,” the man said.

Sadie offered a nervous smile. She didn’t like to talk about Uncle Henry’s business dealings—and tried not to be privy to them, if she could help it—but everyone in town had been so friendly when they spoke of him.

“I will,” she said. “I’m sure he’ll be back after the New Year.”

“Whatcha got goin’ there?” He stepped into Henry’s yard and pointed at the fire.

“I’m roasting chestnuts.”

“Well, look at that. Sure, you are.” His smile was wide and his arms expansive. “That’s why I love this town. You never know what people will do.”

She nodded and picked up the roaster. Maybe if she started looking busy, he’d leave her alone. Although, if he did leave, he might start the…

From the house, a woman’s voice called, “Okay, Stewart. I’m turning it on.”

He whirled around. “Give ‘er a go, Marian.”

The music started up and the lights began to blink. This time, however, the music was different. Something with trumpets and saxophones. It sounded big-band-ish. The first time around, it would be entertaining, but by midnight, she had no doubt she would want to put her eyes out.

With that thought, Hudson’s smiling face floated through her mind and she smiled. It had been fun trading jabs, and he’d been as annoyed by the lights and the show as she had.

Comforting.

Stewart stood with a wide stance, hands on his hips, and watched the blinking, blasting spectacle he’d created. He glanced back with a big smile.

“Now that’s something.” He moved his elbow as though he meant to jab her with it, but he was standing too far away. “Cost me a pretty penny, but it’s all worth it.”

“It is something.” Sadie tightened her lips so she wouldn’t laugh out loud.

“Well, we’re headed out to Enamorada. I think Marian is saving all her cooking for Christmas Eve.” Stewart chuckled. “Say, what are you doing for Christmas?”

Sadie almost shrugged, but she felt an invitation coming on, so she offered her biggest, sweetest smile. “I’m headed to Houston tomorrow, so I won’t even be here for Christmas.”

“Yeah? Well, if you find yourself here and want some company, it’s just me and the wife for Christmas Day. We’d love to have you over.”

She had to chew her lip to keep from accepting the invite. Part of her wished Uncle Henry was here, and part of her wanted to be alone and lick her wounds.

“Thanks so much,” she said. “And Merry Christmas again.”

Stewart walked off with an awkward smile, as though he wasn’t sure how to handle a rejected invitation. But he did leave her alone. Sadie lowered the roaster closer to the fire. By the time Stewart’s headlights flashed out of his driveway, the chestnuts started to smoke a bit. Their savory, earthy smell was harder to place outside, where it competed with the heavy scent of wood fire—both hers, which had more of a campfire smell, and the scent of the wood stove piping out its smoke into the air.

There were very few smells in the world that Sadie preferred to a wood-burning stove. Her parents always had one, and Uncle Henry’s reminded her of that, so many years ago. She would probably light a fire in this house every day until she had to move, or until the weather turned warmer—whichever came first.

After too many turns through the big band song, the Nutcracker came back. Had this happened the previous night, too? No, it had started with the orchestral piece, because it would get quiet at the beginning of each rotation, and Sadie would think it had finally turned off, but then the orchestra hits would shock her back to the Christmas reality.

The hits of sound through the speakers hidden under bushes in Stewart’s yard brought Hudson’s face sailing through her memory again. And other things, like the new door and the new French press… he was a good man. Or he seemed like one.

Or was it just that everyone would seem like a good man compared with Kyle?

Sadie pulled open the roaster and checked on the chestnuts. The shells seemed to be peeling away at the top, where she’d put X’s in them, just as they were supposed to.

She let the fire burn while she walked the chestnuts to the back porch and transferred the steaming little pods onto a plate with a big pair of grill tongs.

The roaster would be hot for a long time yet, so she set it on the stone patio to cool off, and turned back toward the fire pit. She looked around the yard for the shovel. Alton Brown had said to keep the shovel handy to put out the fire, but she couldn’t remember if she’d brought it out of the garage or not.

Sadie jogged around the house and keyed in the code on one of the garage doors. While she waited for it to open, she tried to ignore the blink of lights next door, but they were insistent. She finally turned her head to take in Stewart’s spectacle, but the blinking hadn’t been coming from his house.

Stewart and Marian’s house was set back on their lot, and everything that blinked was away, off the street. The blinking was somewhere else. She narrowed her vision a bit. Next door to Stewart’s house was a front-set home with a big, vaulted, three-section picture window that stuck out from the side like a conservatory. The Christmas tree flickered through the glass.

Sadie took a step into the garage and looked away, but something made her look back. The tree wasn’t lit. It was flickering.

She ran out of the garage and down the street. It wasn’t flickering with candles or lights. There were flames in there. As she approached the house, the flames licked slowly up one side of the tree and came around the front where she could see them more pronounced.

That tree was on fire!

Her phone almost slipped through her fingers when she pulled it out of the long cardigan’s pocket. She hit the emergency button on her phone and dialed 9-1-1.

Sadie’s hands shook and she held the phone to her ear.

“9-1-1, what is your emergency?”

“A fire… there’s a fire…” Sadie reached the porch next to the bay window where the flames licked up the inside of the tree. Her heart locked in high gear, thudding against her chest like it fuelled her.

“Where y’at, honey?” The operator’s Bayou accent shook Sadie out of the thrall of her adrenaline.

“At the end of Old Taylor Road. I don’t know the address.” She looked all around the dark exterior and couldn’t find the house numbers. “Right next to the big Christmas display.”

The operator promised her she’d send the fire crew, but Sadie was already looking for the front door. She pounded, rang the doorbell. No answer.

A faint buzz of the woman’s voice came over her phone, but Sadie couldn’t make out the words over the Nutcracker music. She backed up onto the porch and looked in the window, putting the phone back to her ear.

“It looks like they’re gone. But their house is on fire.”

The woman told her to stay in the yard and wait for the firemen, but Sadie was already pounding on the door again and dropped the phone. The door looked fairly sturdy, but she would try.

She backed up on the porch and took a run at the front door, lowering her shoulder. It didn’t move, and instead, she bounced backwards and into the railing.

Sadie kicked at the door, and couldn’t budge the thing. The shovel! If she could go find the shovel, she could probably get the door open.

She vaulted the porch and landed on the ground at a run. Somewhere in the corner of Stewart’s yard, someone took off running ahead of her. They kept looking over their shoulder.

“Hey! Stop! Help me!” she yelled. But they kept running.

Was that the fire-starter? Would they have stayed around to watch? Why wouldn’t they have left? It couldn’t be.

“You!” she yelled again. The figure turned to look back at her, and before she could say anything else, he was caught on a string of lights that hung between two trees on the far side of Stewart’s yard. He was on his back, on the ground, and she heard his cry of surprise.

She grabbed the shovel from inside the open garage and ran back to where he was trying to disentangle himself and get up.

“Stop,” she ordered, approaching with the shovel in the air. “I’m warning you.”

The figure was slighter than she expected. He couldn’t have been much older than her nephew, Alex, who was in high school. He tried to unwind the Christmas lights, but when he’d fallen, he’d gotten tangled up and dragged them along.

“I said stop.” The closer she got, the more her heart exploded in her chest. From somewhere down the hill, she could hear the sirens.

“Leave me alone.” The boy shouted.

“Why are you running?”

He kept fussing, but couldn’t get his arm free. Sadie circled him with the shovel.

“If you’re not the person who started the fire, you need to stay until the firemen get here.”

“No way, lady.” He practically growled at her, flashing his teeth and pulling on his coat. “Get out of my way.”

Sadie smacked his side with the shovel. “You did this, didn’t you? You started that fire.”

“If you don’t get out of my way…” His voice cracked and he tried to run forward. The lights had him pinned in place by both shoulders, and Sadie hit him again.

“It was you!” She pointed to the house. “You’d better get back over to that house and put that fire out right now, or I’m going to hit you again.”

“Get off me, psycho bitch,” the kid yelled. He shimmied out of his coat and pushed her onto the ground. Sadie hit hard and tried to reach out with her shovel, but he was too far away for her to trip him.

Dammit. She should have hit him harder.

She dropped the shovel and pushed herself to her feet. The lights of the fire truck flashed like Stewart’s spectacle as they pulled up in front of her house.

Sadie ran out to the street, waving her arms and yelling for the firemen. One of them leaped off the truck and sprinted across the street toward her. She pointed at the next house and screamed, “Over there. The tree!”

The smoke was starting to billow out the window. They had to be able to see it. The fire truck pulled up in front of the house and the rest of the men jumped off the truck.

“Sadie!” The firefighter called.

Hudson. It was Hudson. She sank to her knees, tears streaming down her face, and had a hard time making words.

His hands were all over her body and she couldn’t help the relief that filled her with warmth as he put his arms around her. She collapsed against him and buried her face in his rough coat.

It was nice to feel warm again.

CHAPTER 9

Hudson kept Sadie near him as she rambled about the fire. He let her drag him back into the yard and show him a string of lights that held a big, red jacket like a prairie clothesline.

He left his arm around her shoulder while she babbled about a kid who ran away. But she wasn’t making sense.

“Sadie. Stop, and tell me again what happened.” He grabbed her arms and looked straight into her eyes. The lights blinked around them cast strange shadows over her features.

“I was getting a shovel.” She took a deep breath. “I saw the tree over in the… next to the lights… and then I went to get the shovel and I saw the kid.”

He glanced around the dark cluster of backyards. They backed up to open space all along this street, and he couldn’t see any other people. Just the coat.

“What kid?” he asked.

“There was a kid standing back here, and when I ran, he ran. Only he got caught.” She pointed to the jacket. “I tried to stop him.”

Hudson’s heart rushed, driving him forward and pushing his arms around her body. “You did what?” He held her and stroked her back. “What were you doing, Sadie?”

“I think he started the fire,” she said into his shoulder.

Hudson shook his head. “What?”

“I think he was trying to get away from the house. I told him to stop, but he wouldn’t, and then he got caught and left this.” She waved at the coat again.

Hudson ushered her to the coat and touched it with tentative fingers. “The kid left this?”

“Yes.”

“This wasn’t here before?”

“No, I saw him in it. He got caught in the lights.” She let out a bark of laughter. “The lights caught him.”

“Where is he now?”

Sadie pointed off toward the other houses. “I don’t know. He knocked me down, and…”

“He knocked you down?” Hudson sucked in a breath through his nose and closed his eyes. Why didn’t she lead with this? He pulled her into his body.

Damn. He was never going to let her go again.

“Hudson!” Aidan stood on the other side of the Griswold family lightmare and waved his arms. “We contained the fire. What’s going on back here?”

“I think we may have something from the arsonist over there.”

“Did you catch him?” Aidan ran toward them, but Hudson shook his head.

“Sadie saw him.” He slowly rotated his shoulders so Aidan could see Sadie’s face. Some crazy protective instinct crept up inside of him, and he pulled her closer.

Hudson pulled at the edge of the jacket. “He was wearing this, but got caught up in the lights and left it here.”

Aidan took off his gloves and grabbed the edge of the coat. He pushed open the pocket with one finger, but didn’t reach inside. “There’s something in here.”

“What is it?” Sadie stepped away from Hudson’s embrace, and he found himself resonating with a little frustration when she did.

“It looks like a phone.” Aidan put one glove back on and pulled the pocket open. “It’s one of those card-cases.” He removed it. “It’s got cards in it, on the back.”

Hudson pulled at Sadie’s arm. “Let me get her inside,” he said to Aidan. “Then I’ll come back.”

His friend’s gaze cast from Sadie to Hudson and back. A tiny smirk started in one corner of his mouth and spread across his face.

“Sure. You do that.” Aidan’s tone was full of sarcasm and Hudson almost punched him in the shoulder.

“Shut up, Aid. I’ll be right back.”

Hudson ushered Sadie to the back porch of her house while Aidan tried to take the jacket off the line of lights. Sadie opened the door, walked into the kitchen, and sat on the stool at the breakfast nook, all without any comment.

She was likely in shock, and it wouldn’t be wise to leave her alone for a few minutes. He pulled out the other stool and sat across from her, letting his knee touch hers.

He leaned forward. “Sadie.”

Her dark eyes snapped up to his and she breathed audibly. “Hudson.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

She laughed. “I’ve been better.”

“I’m sure you have.” He slid his gaze over her face, down her neck, down her body. She seemed to be physically fine, although she kept bringing one hand up to stroke her shoulder. He reached for the shoulder and she hit the back of her chair, a biting wince crossing her features.

“Is something wrong with your shoulder?” Hudson retreated his hand. “Did you hurt it when he pushed you down?”

Sadie’s fingers massaged her arm in a rhythm and she didn’t respond. She just stared at him. She wasn’t going to come out of this shock anytime soon.

Hudson stepped out onto the porch and waved Aidan down. His friend had finally gotten the jacket down, and he loped across the yard.

“I’m gonna stay here with her until the cops show up.”

“I think we’re going to stay, too.” Aidan held up the jacket. “This is pretty beat up. And it doesn’t smell like accelerant.”

“He wouldn’t need it. Even a watered tree is going to burn fast enough on its own.”

“But it did look like the others. Empty house, tree on display in the front room, entry through the back.” Aidan pointed along the back ridge, where the lit-up house sat farther afield on the property. “There are definitely tracks back there. It’s pretty wet.”

Hudson glanced back into the kitchen, where Sadie still sat motionless on the stool. “What are you going to tell the cops when they show up?”

“We’ll send someone in to talk to her. See if we can get the whole story.”

“She’s still in shock.”

“I’ll bet she is.” Aidan’s smile mirrored the humor in his tone, but Hudson didn’t care. He didn’t care if they made fun of him for the next year of his life. He wanted to stay with Sadie.

“She is.”

Aidan cracked him on the back. “She’ll survive with you here, bud.”

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh away.”

“Go on back in. It looks like she’s getting up.” Aidan pointed to the house and Hudson’s heart lurched. Sadie was on her feet and heading toward the living room.

Hudson ran after her and caught her just before she reached the front room.

“Where are you going?” He relaxed his grip when he saw her wince.

“I’ve got to find my phone.” Her unfocused eyes moved all over the walls and the carpet and fixed on the door. “I think I lost it when I called 9-1-1.”

Hudson eased his arms around her. “I’ll find your phone, Sadie. Just sit down with me. You’re still in shock.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.” He pulled her down onto the couch beside him—the one she’d slept on the night before. She felt so right, fitting against him like she did, and he stroked her good shoulder.

“But you will be,” he whispered, resting his chin on her forehead. “I promise.”

They stayed on the couch in silence for a long time. Hudson wasn’t sure he should speak, and Sadie just breathed and laid against his side. He let the rightness sink through him, all the way to his bones. He’d done his share of making fun of his friends for getting all focused on one girl, but suddenly he had more sympathy for them.

It wasn’t something a guy could control.

When a knock sounded at the back door, Hudson reluctantly rose and led Sadie back into the kitchen. He was so proud of her for not crying, and not dissolving into hysterics. He showed her off to Marcus when the deputy came into Sadie’s kitchen.

Sadie answered all of his questions, and Hudson just sat and listened, amazed at her calmness and clarity. By the time Marcus finished asking his questions, Hudson had decided for sure. He wanted to see more of Sadie Capshaw.

Like he wanted to be a fireman. Like he wanted to be a good man. Like he wanted to climb Kilimanjaro.

And he was going to fix her heartbreak if he had to become Santa Claus himself to do it.

CHAPTER 10

Sadie slung the remnants of the roasted chestnuts into the fire pit. They would make good fuel for the next fire. She turned back to the house, looking forward to being alone. Hudson had ushered the deputy out the front door, and he would be headed back to work.

She couldn’t deny, she’d been happy to see him again, and the solid warmth of his embrace had gotten her through the shock of having confronted a felon. But all that was over.

People were always leaving her.

She took the roaster into the kitchen and took it apart, sliding the parts into a sink full of warm, soapy water. She wouldn’t try any more chestnut roasting. Open fire or not. It wasn’t safe.

Although, each time she loaded up the roaster, she found Hudson in her living room. Maybe she’d just keep doing that, to bring him back.

“Need help?” The deep slide of his voice combusted the tight knot in her stomach, and she turned to find him leaning against the wall, his coat off, his suspenders over his t-shirt.

He looked damn sexy, and everything inside melted.

“I think I’ve got it.” She tensed her grip on the sponge. Dammit, Sadie. Just take the help.

But he didn’t look deterred. In fact, he took a step toward her and the melty gooey stuff in her belly dropped lower and lower.

When he came up behind her, she could feel every nerve in her body start to burn like that Christmas tree. They were alone. The crisis was over. He should be leaving, but he stayed with her.

He stayed.

“You could just let me help.” He slipped his hand down into the water and closed it around hers. His body fit right behind her.

“You’ve already helped so much.” Sadie’s voice caught at the end of her sentence and her eyes watered. He had helped in more ways than he would ever know.

“I want to help more.” His voice against her ear sent sparklers to every tip of every part of her body. She felt like she was glowing.

Sadie turned into him, looking up into those brilliant green eyes of his. There was a closeness between them that she hadn’t felt in years. She certainly hadn’t had this with Kyle. Maybe ever, and certainly not before he walked out.

“I don’t know what to do, Hudson.” She licked her lips and noticed his eyes following her tongue. He wanted to kiss her, she could feel the electricity sparkling between them. “Is this some kind of after-effect of being in shock?”

“What’s happening?”

“I feel… warm. And… like I don’t want you to leave.”

A corner of his mouth turned up. “That is not related to the shock, no.”

“How do you know?”

His eyes dropped to her mouth. “Because I feel the same way.”

Her body wavered, leaning toward him, then back into the counter. She couldn’t breathe.

Hudson dipped his head, like he might kiss her, but he froze with his lips hovering over hers.

“I shouldn’t kiss you, though.”

Sadie found her air and opened her lips to speak. But she found she didn’t want to speak. So instead, she leaned up into him and reached her lips for his.

When they made contact, soft skin on soft skin, tongues bootlicking, breaths blending into one, Sadie’s inner Christmas carol hit a high note. She threw her arms around his neck and stretched hard against him.

Hudson laughed into her mouth and pulled back for a breath. “So much for we shouldn’t.”

Sadie rested her face against his chest. “I don’t should anymore.”

“What does that mean?”

“I mean, I spent all my life doing things I should do, and when my perfect boyfriend walked out on me and I lost my job, I decided that should doesn’t matter. So I moved into my Uncle’s house after he moved out, and I took a job at the university, running one of the building projects, and I tried to cut ties with everything in my old life so I could get a new start.”

Hudson’s hands slid up and down her back. “So that’s what happened. I knew something was wrong, but I couldn’t… I didn’t want to ask.”

Her limbs were suddenly heavy. Thinking about Kyle could ruin a moment faster than a house fire. But this time, there was just enough hope building inside, she didn’t stop herself talking about him.

She told Hudson everything. Kyle’s pulling away, his strange behavior, and then his leaving without a word. The whole horrible story.

“It’s been a few months, but it still feels like it happened yesterday.”

A calming sigh started low in his chest and she heard it roll up and down. Somehow, it comforted her just to hear his disappointment.

“Well, I know what heartbreak feels like, and I know from experience, it’s easiest to push people away.” He lifted her chin and met her eyes. “But if you need company getting back to normal, I’m happy to be here.”

Sadie traced a pattern on his t-shirt and reached for his neck to pull him down into her kiss again. “I’m ready to start over.”

Hudson put a warm hand on her cheek and separated himself. “I know it feels that way now, but let me just say one thing.”

She couldn’t help a twinge of disappointment. “I will permit you one thing.”

He met her eyes. “I like you, Sadie. And I like you more every minute we spend together. But what you need the most right now is somebody to drink Jager with you and make sure you get to bed safely. I’m happy to be that person.”

She dropped her gaze and tears spilled onto her cheeks when she blinked. While the pull to kiss him was real, the desire for company was more raw. More real.

“Last night was the first time I’ve genuinely felt safe in months,” she admitted, keeping her eyes down. “I can’t tell you what a gift that was.”

Hudson slipped his arms around her and rested back against the counter, just holding her. She sighed. This felt better than she had ever imagined. Just being held.

“I’m not saying I don’t have ulterior motives.” The sarcasm had laced back into his voice, and Sadie couldn’t help smiling.

“You do?”

“I broke your door down, didn’t I?”

She put her hand on his heart. This man. He was a good man. She was safe and hopeful, for the first time in recent memory. It might not be her happily ever after, but it was happy enough.

“And interrupted a very serious attempt at Christmas tradition, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Hudson’s heart beat under her ear. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“In fact, your Christmas tree fire interrupted me again.” She smiled up at him. “I’m starting to wonder if my Christmas is doomed.”

He stroked the side of her cheek and gave her a rueful smile. “We’re gonna give you a Christmas you’ll never forget, girl.”

Sadie wasn’t sure if it was the strong set of his jaw or the firefighter uniform or the emotion in his eyes, but she believed him. Instead of being the Christmas of heartbreak, she had every hope that this might be her Christmas of new beginnings.

A new house, a new job… and a new friend.

Hudson grabbed her hand. “Now, come on. You know what this house is missing?”

Sadie let him drag her out to the front room. “Um. Everything?”

“Well, yes. I mean, when your furniture gets here, that would be a boon. But you and I are going to ride the truck back to the station and then I’m gonna get a friend to cover my shift, and we’re going to buy you a Christmas tree.”

She laughed and kept following Hudson. Out the door, out of the haze of her past, out into the cold night… which didn’t feel so cold any more.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

FREE BOOKS! You can read the first-in-series of my Highland Renegades, and my Romantic Suspense by signing up for my free newsletter! Click here or go to my website to sign up.

From the Line of Fire series, set in Somewhere, TX:

Fire Away (2014)

Fire Fight (2015)

Fire Up (coming in 2016)

As We Dream By the Fire (2015)

Catch Fire: McAdams Scandal (2015)

Open Fire: McAdams Scandal (coming in 2016)

http://rlsyme.com

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CHRISTMAS IN CLOVERTON

BY JODI VAUGHN

CHAPTER 1

“I  hope these five hot men will keep me satisfied for the next few days.” Mrs. Johnson polished her glasses with the tail of her plaid shirt and sighed. She popped the spectacles back on her nose and blinked, looking a lot like an owl. “You know what they say. Everyone needs a little romance. Especially at Christmas.”

“I think they will get you through until you can get back to the store.” Eliza Ross stifled a giggle at the mental image, then tucked the five paperback romance novels into the bag and handed it to the middle-aged woman. Christmas music played softly in the background as the scent of cinnamon danced through the store. Mrs. Johnson came in every Friday like clockwork to buy one book to get her through the weekend. Except today. Today was Wednesday, and it was snowing its butt off. The weatherman had predicted seven to nine inches of snow. Mrs. Johnson was preparing herself to be stuck at home, so she had gotten five books to carry her through.

Eliza wasn’t sure what she needed to carry herself through the cold weather. She let her mind wonder what a Christmas romance might feel like. A vision of snuggling by the fireplace, the soft glow of candles lit around the room and sipping champagne— no, hot chocolate— looked pretty good to her.

“You need to get on home, Eliza,” Mrs. Johnson insisted as they walked toward the front door. The woman paused long enough to admire the artificial Christmas tree that Eliza had set up in the window display. Eliza had decided an old-fashioned tree complete with old-fashioned ornaments would fit the décor of her bookstore. She’d spent hours stringing popcorn, cutting out snowflakes from old sheet music, and making bows out of brown burlap. Lit with oversize colorful Christmas lights, the tree was lovely.

“They’re saying this storm is going to be worse than the last one.” Mrs. Johnson reached for the door handle and paused. “When I came in, I noticed the other store owners were already closing up shop. You should too.” She furrowed her brow and gave Eliza a look of pity. “You need to take home some books for yourself dear, since you’ll be alone through all this. At least I’ve got Will in case something happens.”

She forced a smile despite the sharp blow to her ego. She knew Mrs. Johnson didn’t have a mean bone in her body, but Eliza really got tired of people reminding her that she was single. Being single wasn’t a death sentence. Besides, she wasn’t alone. She had Miss Kitty to keep her company when she read and to keep her warm when she went to bed.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried to put herself out there, but growing up in a small town like Cloverton, Tennessee, people tended to label you. Once they put you in a box, it was hard to open the lid and escape.

She’d never been popular in high school, but she hadn’t been bullied either. She just didn’t stand out like the other girls. With brown hair and brown eyes, she felt ordinary. Like a vanilla wafer.

She was just Eliza Ross, the introverted bookworm who people didn’t really see.

In Cloverton, she was just invisible. And that was what stung the worst.

“I’ve got to stop and grab some cat food, and then I’ll head on home,” she assured the woman with a tight smile as she let Mrs. Johnson out. She shut the heavy wooden door and secured the two locks.

Mrs. Johnson was thirty years her senior and ran the grocery store in town. She’d once told Eliza the reason she had to read so many romance books was because her husband, Will, never did anything romantic. She’d asked him once to try to be more romantic and surprise her with a gift. He’d come home with a washing machine with a big red ribbon tied around it. After that, Mrs. Johnson had said she was going to get her romance out of books and stop trying to bother her husband since he couldn’t get it right.

“I can’t believe it’s snowing. Again.” Eliza flipped the CLOSED sign on the door of her bookstore, Fables and Tales, and watched Mrs. Johnson quick-step it to her brand new Cadillac. Her boots kicked up snow in her wake.

She lingered at the window, gazing out as the snow continued to fall, covering everything on Main Street in white. The traffic had dwindled, and the streetlamps were coming on as the sky drew darker. The mix of snow and sleet pinged against the window like tiny jingle bells.

Cloverton might see some snow flurries every few years, and the small town might even get a freak snowstorm once in a blue moon. But this was the second time in two weeks that they had gotten enough snow and ice to bring the town to its knees.

“If I don’t get a move on and get home, I’m going to get stuck sleeping upstairs again.”

She’d made the mistake the last time it had snowed. She’d heard the weatherman’s report about the amount of snow they were predicted to get, but Eliza made the mistake of not believing him.

Why should she? Cloverton never got that much snow. Just didn’t happen. Not in the South.

But after having to spend the night in the cramped studio apartment above the bookstore, she didn’t dare test her luck again. If she had to stay cooped up, she preferred to do it in the comfort of her home on Maple Street, where she was stocked up on coffee and creamer and could sit by her cozy fireplace reading while watching it snow.

“Miss Kitty, let’s go.” Eliza kept her eyes on the snowy scene outside as she spoke to her black cat with the white-tipped tail. She’d made it a habit to always bring Miss Kitty to work with her. She’d soon learned after getting the cat from the shelter that the Miss Kitty didn’t like to be left alone. In her displeasure at being left alone all day, she’d always claw something up: first Eliza’s gray-and-white reading chair, then her favorite red dress. After that, Eliza had started bringing her to work. The cat was like Eliza’s shadow and didn’t make a move without her. Except for that one time.

There was only one time that Eliza could think of when the cat had gone missing from the bookstore. Miss Kitty had slipped out the front door when a customer left. She’d finally found the cat, hours later, at the back door of the Italian restaurant down the street, digging in the trash.

“Miss Kitty?” Eliza cried louder as a sinking feeling settled in her stomach. Not again. Not today.

She raced through the store, looking down each aisle and on each shelf to make sure the cat hadn’t curled up somewhere for a quick nap. After making a complete sweep of the store, she faced reality.

Miss Kitty must have slipped out the door when Mrs. Johnson had left. Eliza had been too busy watching to make sure Mrs. Johnson made it to her car to pay attention to her cat.

Now Miss Kitty was missing in one of the town’s worst snowstorms.

“Damn.” She unlocked the door and threw it open. The blast of cold wind hit her in the face like a bucket of ice water. The snow/sleet mixture stuck to her nose and eyelashes as she dashed out onto the sidewalk, looking frantically for the cat.

“Miss Kitty.” She cupped her hands around her mouth and called out down the deserted sidewalk quickly being covered in snow. She stilled, listening for a meow from her finicky cat.

Nothing.

“Miss Kitty,” she called out again. She glanced either way on the sidewalk but still didn’t see the feline. If she headed right, it would take her by the grocery store and restaurants. If she turned left, it would take her to the antique shop and the boutique.

Her gut told her to head right. So she did.

CHAPTER 2

J ake Denton stuck his plumbing tools in the bed of the truck and slammed the tailgate closed.

Unlike the majority of the townspeople, he was grateful for the snow. Cold weather was a plumber’s dream. It meant more jobs, and he sure as hell could use more money right now. Before the winter hit, business had slowed down—way down—and he needed a shot in the arm.

He’d just finished a job at Granny’s Little Italy Restaurant on Main Street and he wanted nothing more than to go home, grab a beer, and catch the football game he’d DVR’d on TV. The wintry mix was coming down fast and heavy, and he didn’t want to wait much longer or the roads would be too bad to travel on.

He opened the door of his truck to get in when he heard a woman’s voice.

He stopped and listened. The best he could tell, it was coming from down the alley off Main Street.

He shut his door, zipped up his winter coat, and headed in the direction of Main. Beer and the game would have to wait.

TAKING OFF AT A JOG, Eliza wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she’d grabbed her coat and rubber boots before heading out into the miserable winter weather. She stopped in front of the darkened grocery store. Hoping against hope, she tried the door.

Locked.

She pressed her face against the window and peered inside. She saw no movement in the dark shadows of the store.

She headed next door to Granny’s Little Italy Restaurant. Once again, she tried to the door, but it wouldn’t budge either.

“Damnit.” She leaned in and looked into the closed restaurant. “If I was a cat and it was snowing, I’d be in there with all that Italian food.”

“Eliza, what are you doing?”

Eliza jumped at the familiar sound of the deep male voice. She slowly turned around.

Jake Denton.

“And why don’t you have a coat on?” he asked.

Usually whenever she saw Jake, she would turn into a puddle of female neediness right in front of him. But today she was too worried about Miss Kitty to give much thought to her hormones.

“I can’t find Miss Kitty. She ran out when my last customer left, and I can’t find her anywhere.” She blinked back the tears that stung her eyes.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’ll help you look for her.” Jake smiled, unzipped his winter coat, and handed it to her. “But you need to put this on first. You’ll freeze to death out here.”

“I can’t take your coat.” She tried to hand it back to him, but he shook his head.

“Take it. I’ve got enough meat on me to keep me warm.” He grinned as he draped the oversized coat over her shoulders.

He might be big, but the man didn’t have an ounce of fat anywhere on his muscled body. His dark hair brushed the tops of his shoulders as he moved, and his dark blue eyes seared into her.

She blinked and looked away, embarrassed that she might cry in front of him.

His warm male scent lingered on his coat and wrapped around her in a comforting embrace. She couldn’t help but snuggle down farther into the warmth as she pulled it tight around her.

“Did you try Granny’s Little Italy?” He nodded at the restaurant.

“It’s locked. I tried the door.” She stepped up to the window and peered inside.

“Mrs. Wentworth’s car is still parked in the alley, so the back door is still unlocked.”

Mrs. Wentworth was the owner of Granny’s Little Italy and had run the restaurant for years. She was neither a grandmother nor Italian. But the woman could cook Italianfood like nobody’s business.

Jake rested his hand at the small of her back as they walked down the alley to the back entrance.

Her heart jumped in her chest at his touch. Even through the thick coat, she could almost feel the warmth from his body.

She shook her head, clearing away random romantic thoughts. This was Jake. She’d gone to school with him. He’d been the high school jock who dated cheerleaders. She’d been the bookworm who studied incessantly so she could stay in the library around her books. He’d been the popular guy who everyone wanted to be friends with. She’d been the one who never had a date in high school because no one ever asked her. He’d even gone off to college on a football scholarship and gotten his degree in business, and he now owned his own plumbing business. She’d gone to college, gotten a degree in English, and now owned her own bookstore.

They were polar opposites and clearly didn’t fit in each other’s world.

It made sense for her to return to her hometown, but it didn’t make sense that Jake had come back. He could have been anything, done anything. He could be in New York City with a supermodel, living the dream, playing for the New York Giants.

Yet he’d returned to Cloverton.

The snow fell faster and the ground was getting slicker by the second. The back door of Granny’s was propped open by a large green trashcan.

“Come on in.” Jake motioned with his hand, letting her step inside first.

He might be the town’s most eligible bachelor, but Jake Denton was always a gentleman.

A blast of warmth from the kitchen sucked her in and she sighed. She shook her head, and snowflakes and sleet fell to the ground. She ran her fingers through her cold, wet hair and looked around the kitchen.

Industrial-size ovens and stoves, along with two large stainless-steel refrigerators, occupied the space. Thick rubber mats lined the concrete floor at each prepping station in the kitchen. Though everything was clean and had been scrubbed down for the day, a faint hint of cooking oil and cheese hung in the air.

Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she’d forgotten to eat lunch. When the snow had started falling, she’d gotten busy with customers buying books to prepare for the impending blizzard. She didn’t mind, though; she liked the uptake in business.

“Missed lunch?” Jake grinned.

She felt her face heat a thousand degrees, and she glanced away. She was almost twenty-six years old, and every time she was around him she felt like she was sixteen years old and back in high school.

“Yeah, I got too busy,” she admitted as glanced around the kitchen for Miss Kitty. Nothing moved among the shadows, and her anxiety mounted within her chest.

“Me too. I had to work straight through noon. It seems like with this winter weather, I actually have a boost in sales.” He rolled his massive shoulders. His muscles bulged against his plaid shirt, reminding her that he was still in shape. He might not play football anymore, but he was still built like an athlete.

Her stomach twisted with guilt at letting her mind wander. She should be focusing on finding her cat and not checking out Jake. She shrugged out of his coat and held it out to him.

He shook his head. “No, you keep it. You’re still shaking from being outside.”

She was shaking, all right, but it had nothing to do with the cold.

“Jake, I appreciate your help, but I’m all right by myself.” She nodded toward the door. “You can go. I’ll be perfectly fine.”

“Women who say ‘I’m fine’ are never fine.” He arched his eyebrow. “I know how to interpret women code.”

No doubt about that. Jake Denton looked like he knew everything about a woman, including how to please one.

“What’s that?” He stilled and held a finger to his lips.

CHAPTER 3

M eow.

“Miss Kitty.” She broke into a grin as she hurried through the swinging kitchen doors into the restaurant.

Eliza halted her steps. Through the dim light seeping in from the windows she could make out shapes of chairs upended atop tables.

“I don’t see anyone.” She glanced up at him over her shoulder and then scanned the room again. “I thought you said Mrs. Wentworth was still here?”

“I think she said something about having to run to the drug store before it closed.” Jake whispered close to her ear.

Her eyes lashes fluttered of their own volition and her body trembled at his nearness the urge to lean back into his chest overwhelmed her.

“Yes well,’ she cleared her throat and tried to focus her fuzzy head on the task at hand. What were they here for? Miss Kitty, that’s it! “I guess we need to hurry up.”

Meow.

“Miss Kitty, where are you?” Eliza called into the dimness. She took a cautious step forward near one of the corners.

Her foot caught the edge of one of the uneven tiles and she pitched forward. She gasped as she stumbled in the dark. Jake’s strong arms grabbed her from behind and wrapped around her waist pulling her toward him.

“Easy. You okay?” His husky voice sent electric shocks of pleasure through her stomach and her heart speed away like a train. It was all she could do to keep from resting her head against his warm embrace.

“Yeah, thanks.” She sucked in a calming breath and stepped away from his warmth, grateful for the darkness. At least he couldn’t see how red her face was.

Meow.

She eased forward to one of the many booths lined against the wall, following the sound of her cat. The sound grew louder with each step.

She reached the last booth and knelt, craning her neck under the table. Something darker than the shadows moved under the booth as two yellow eyes stared back at her through the darkness.

She sighed as relief poured over her.

“Come here, Miss Kitty.” She held out her hand. Her fingertips brushed against the familiar silky black fur. The cat purred against her touch as she rubbed her face against her fingers.

A loud slam came from the direction of the kitchen.

“What’s that?” She looked up at Jake in the darkness. She gathered the cat in her arms and stood.

“Sounds like the door. The garbage can probably got blown out of the way and the door shut.”

Her heart jumped in her throat.

He laughed at the panicked look on her face. “Don’t worry. It’s not locked. I made sure to check when we came in.”

“Good.” She laughed and shook her head. “I can’t imagine getting locked in here with you.”

He frowned.

“I didn’t mean it like that sounded.” She shifted her weight as her throat went dry. “I mean it would terrible if we had to spend the night together.”

His frown deepened and he cocked his head.

Ugh. She was making everything worse. Maybe she should just stop talking.

She slammed her mouth shut and made her way to the kitchen. She didn’t dare look at Jake as he followed silently behind her. When she reached the back door, she gave him a hesitant smile.

“Thank you, Jake. I appreciate you helping me find Miss Kitty. I know you have better things to do than to rescue runaway cats.”

A slow grin crossed his mouth. His dark eyes twinkled under the lights of the kitchen.

“My pleasure. It’s not very often that I can be the hero to a beautiful woman.”

Her heart caught for the briefest of seconds. Was he flirting with her? She blinked and looked away. Nah. Jake was just teasing. He’d always been kind to her, but he’d never really showed her that much attention. She wasn’t his type.

“Right.” She turned and reached for the doorknob. A sliver of panic slid up into the base of her throat when the knob didn’t turn.

“Let me try. Sometimes it sticks.” Jake smiled as she took a step back to allow him access to the door.

He reached for the doorknob and turned. When the door didn’t open, he turned and frowned at her.

“Don’t give me that look.” Her chest squeezed with uncertainty.

“It won’t open,” he said carefully.

“Well, put your weight behind it.” Her heart jackhammered in her chest and she squeezed Miss Kitty. The cat meowed and squirmed in her arms.

“I am.” He rammed his shoulder into the steel door. It creaked but didn’t budge.

“I thought you said it wouldn’t lock.” Every movie with this exact situation popped into her head. None of them had good outcomes.

“It doesn’t. But when the owners lock up for the night they put a padlock on the outside. There have been some burglaries in the next town over and they are taking precautions.” He raked his fingers through his dark hair. The disheveled look would have caused her to swoon any other time, but right now she was too consumed with panic to care how hot he looked.

“Then call her to come back to unlock it.” She shrieked and squeezed Miss Kitty a little too tight. The cat hissed and sprang out of her arms and ran back into the restaurant.

He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his lips into a firm white line.

“What?” The rising panic in her stomach was now cresting over into her heart. “I don’t like the look on your face. Why do you have that look on your face?”

“I left my phone in my truck.” He leaned against the door and let out a sigh. “What about you?”

“I left my phone in the bookstore.” She’d run out into the snow looking for Miss Kitty and hadn’t thought to grab her phone. Her knees buckled and she grabbed the stainless-steel counter to steady herself. “Oh, God. The bookstore. It’s not locked.”

“Easy.” He gripped her by the elbows and forced her to meet his gaze as he held her up. “It’s fine. There’s a phone here. Let’s find it and call the police. I know Sloan Jackson is on call this weekend.”

She nodded her head. “Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?” She laughed. “Up front. The phone is up front by the cash register.” Not wasting a second she bolted through the swinging doors into the restaurant.

She ran her fingers along the wall, looking for the light switch. Her palm brushed against the plastic toggle and she flipped it up.

The room was awash in a bright flood of light.

She hurried to the phone, picked up the receiver and pressed it to her ear. Her eyes widened, and she looked at him.

“What’s wrong?” He frowned as he made his way over to her.

“The line is dead.” She held the receiver out to him. He held it up to his ear.

No dial tone. Nothing.

“What are we going to do, Jake?” Her eyes began to glaze over with unshed tears.

“Just call down. It’s fine. We just have to wait it out until someone comes.”

“WE’LL TURN on the lights. Someone will notice and alert the owner.” He gave her a reassuring smile that was all dimples and confidence.

“Right.” She nodded as she sucked in a calming breath. “If the lights are all on someone will have to come turn them off. That’s good thinking.”

“I’m pretty useful when I need to be.” He nodded toward the front of the restaurant. “Let’s get the rest of them turned on.”

The panic in her chest began to dip and go down. She shook her head as she went around the left side of the room while he took the right flipping switches and lighting up the darkened restaurant. Someone would come and there would be nothing to worry about.

CHAPTER 4

T  hey met at the front of the restaurant and gazed out the large picture window together. The snow was coming down faster and harder as the wind picked up and carried the snow at an angle.

What had been a snowstorm was quickly turning into a blizzard.

“This weather is crazy. Two big snowfalls in Tennessee.” Jake chortled. “I think Mother Nature needs some medication.”

“I don’t know. I’ve always wanted a white Christmas.” Eliza wrapped her arms around her chest and sighed. Watching the snow fall was as hypnotizing as watching a fire. “Although I would prefer to be watching the snow from the comfort of my living room by the fireplace versus a restaurant.”

“Yeah, with a cup of hot chocolate.” He looked at her and grinned. His dimples made her heart do a tumble and she knew from the heat in her face that she was turning all shades of red.

She laughed and looked back at Main Street. “And some Christmas music.”

“Yes. The oldies like Dean Martin.”

“And Bing Crosby,” she said excitedly.

“Nat King Cole,” he added.

She turned and stared at the man in front of her.

“None of this new stuff, either.” He arched his eyebrow.

She pushed her hair away from her face and studied him. “I never pegged you as a sentimental guy. I thought you would equate Christmas with hunting and football.”

He barked out a laugh. Turning to face, her he leaned in a little too close. “Maybe it’s time you opened yourself up to new relationships and getting to know someone.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” She frowned.

“You need to get reacquainted with old friends.” His gaze dropped to her lips. “You might be surprised what you find.”

JAKE NEVER HAD to work so hard to get a woman’s attention in his life as he did with Eliza Ross. The woman hadn’t given him two glances in all the years he’d known her and now she was looking at him like he had grown two heads.

She’d been the quiet girl in school, preferring books to boys and studying to partying.

He’d always admired Eliza’s quiet reserve of strength and independence. She was a woman who didn’t need a man. She’d made that perfectly clear when he’d come into the bookstore after he’d returned from college. He’d tried to flirt with her, but either he was rusty or she wasn’t interested. She both confused and confounded him.

And he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

He wondered what her silky brown hair would feel like in his hand. And those damn caramel eyes, well he could just stare into those for days.

So when he’d seen her frantically looking for her cat, he’d jumped at the chance to help. Maybe for once she could see him as someone worthy of her heart.

“Come here.” He reached for her hand. The warmth of her small palm in his made his heart tingle. It was a feeling he was not used to.

“What?” She gave him an unsure look as she nibbled on her full bottom lip. A lip he would love to be nibbling on.

He groaned and tried to get his overheated body under control. He didn’t want to scare her off by acting like a damn caveman. He took a deep breath and led her over to a booth by the window.

He motioned for her to sit. She slid into the booth, keeping her gaze locked on him. She looked unsure.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.” He headed for the kitchen, praying for the ingredients he would need.

“Where would I go,” she mumbled.

He grinned. He liked that about her. She didn’t play games like a lot of the women he’d dated in the past.

Once in the kitchen, he searched the stainless-steel cabinets and grinned when he finally pulled out the container of hot cocoa mix.

Grabbing some milk from the industrial-size refrigerator, he pulled out a pot and began to slowly heat the milk until it was hot.

Pulling out two mugs from a cabinet, he mixed the chocolate and the milk together in the cups.

Grinning to himself, he walked out of the kitchen.

Surprise flashed in her eyes as he handed her the hot mug of chocolate.

“Thank you.” The corners of her lips quirked upward before she took a sip of the hot drink.

“Mmmmm. This is perfect.” She closed her eyes and smiled as she savored the warm treat.

He almost dropped his cup as he watched Eliza lost in pleasure. His mind went to a whole other kind of pleasure he’d like to give her.

Her eyes popped open and she looked at him. “Thank you. This was very thoughtful.”

“You’re welcome,” he managed to croak out. He shook his head and slid into the booth. He needed to get a grip.

They sat in silence as the snow blew across Main Street and the skies turned dark gray. A flash of lightning lit up the dark clouds as thunder pealed in the sky.

“Wow. Thunder snow. That’s something you don’t see often.”

“I think this snowstorm is going to be worse than the last, I saw the snow plows salting the roads earlier today,” he added.

She set her mug on the table and pressed her forehead to the window, looking right and then left.

“There’s no sign of anyone.” She glanced at him. “How is someone going to see the lights on if everyone is at home?”

“The cops will see it. You know they will patrol the streets. I saw Sloan and Mitch getting snow chains for their tires at the garage today.” Sloan and Mitch were two of Cloverton’s finest. They’d played high school football together and they were two of the few friends he still hung out with. They didn’t seem to mind he hadn’t gone on to play professional football. To them, he was just Jake.

“You’re right. There’s no need to worry.” She laughed before taking another sip of her hot chocolate.

Meow.

Miss Kitty jumped up on the table and rubbed her face against Eliza’s fingers, seeking attention. She laughed and scratched the cat under the chin as it let out a contented purr.

He held out his hand, and the cat wound its tail around his arm as it rubbed its head against his knuckles.

“Wow, she likes you.”

“You sound surprised.” He arched his brow.

She laughed. “She doesn’t usually take to new people.”

“Well, I’m not exactly new. You’ve known me all your life,” he reminded gently.

“Yeah, well, just because you grow up with someone doesn’t mean you’re a part of their lives. You and I had a totally different circle of friends. You were the popular high school football player with a ton of friends.” She turned back to the window and gazed out. “I was the nerd who liked to hang out at the library and had only a handful of friends.”

He set his coffee mug down and reached out. Lifting her chin with his fingertips, he forced her to meet his gaze.

“You had more friends than I did. It took me a long time to realize that not everyone was my friend. I lost a lot of friends when I went off to college. You went to college and came back and your friends were the same. I know you, Allison and Tabitha still hang out. Me, not so much. In a lot of ways you came out better than I did.”

CHAPTER 5

She frowned as she considered his words. “I never thought about it like that. I just figured that your life looked so perfect. I guess I shouldn’t be so quick to judge.”

He nodded as his fingertips gently trailed to her jawbone. Once he started touching her, he couldn’t seem to stop.

“It made me take a long hard look at everything in my life.” The words flowed out as his heart pounded in his ears.

“It did?” Her pupils dilated and her lips parted.

“It made me realize that there were some risks I hadn’t taken. It made me regret how much time I wasted in high school with people I didn’t really like. Truth be told they probably didn’t really like me either. If I could do that part of my life over, I would I would focus more on my grades even though it wasn’t the cool thing to do. I would spend more time reading and not care who gave me shit for it. And I sure as hell would risk asking out a girl who I knew wouldn’t give me the time of day.”

Her eyes widened slightly.

“And if I ever got that girl alone I wouldn’t miss my chance to kiss her.” He leaned in closer.

“You wouldn’t?” Her pink tongue swiped across her lips, wetting her mouth.

“I wouldn’t.” His heart hammered in his chest as her sweet perfume seemed to pull him closer like a magnet.

It was now or never. He needed this. He’d dreamed of this. There was no going back.

He angled his head as his finger slid across her skin and cradled the back of her slender neck. She sucked in a gasp of surprise but didn’t pull away. Her lips parted. That was all he needed.

He brushed his lips across hers. The second they touched, a warm jolt shot through his body. He kissed her gently, nibbling on her full, silky lips and savoring her warmth.

He held his breath, waiting for her to push him away and slap him. But when she didn’t stop him, he deepened the kiss. He slid his tongue between her lips, tasting her sweet, warm mouth. He groaned as she kissed him back, brushing her tongue shyly against his in an intimate dance.

He wished the damn table wasn’t between them so he could pull her into his lap and kiss her until she would never think of another man again.

Breathing heavily, he pulled back and looked into her heavy-lidded gaze. What he wouldn’t give to have her look at him like that for the rest of his life.

“I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“You have?” Her voice was thick with lust.

“Yes, I…”

The creaking sound of a tree limb cracking drew their attention back to the window. A tree only a few feet away from the window was leaning to one side from the weight of the snow and ice. A large limb snapped and landed on a low-hanging electric line, sending tiny sparks into the air.

“Oh, no.” he mumbled. Unease settled in his gut. He knew what was coming next.

“What?”

Before he could answer, the lights flickered before going out.

“Well, that was the electric line.”

“And our only hope of getting out of here.” Her eyes widened. She scooped up Miss Kitty in her arms and held her close.

“Don’t worry. It will be okay.”

“We’re locked in a restaurant where the lights just went out. And since the lights went out I’m betting the heat won’t work either.” She swallowed and looked to him for answers.

For the first time, he didn’t have any.

Grabbing her by the arm, he gazed into her caramel eyes. “Eliza, trust me. You’ll be okay. We have heat for now, and if that goes out, then we can go into the kitchen and turn on the oven. It’s gas, so it won’t go out. I know the owner, and she’s going to want to check on the place to make sure the pipes didn’t freeze, so she’ll be back. Not to mention we are in a restaurant so we won’t starve to death.”

She blinked as his words seemed to settle over her. Slowly she nodded as an unsure smile settled on her lips.

“Trust me. We’ll be okay. I bet we can even scrounge up something for Miss Kitty to eat.” He grinned as the cat let out a meow.

She laughed a little as she glanced down at the cat winding its way between her legs.

She still didn’t look like she trusted him about surviving over night, but she didn’t look scared to death either.

He’d take what he could get.

“I’ll fix us some more hot chocolate. We’ll go back to the table to watch for someone passing by so we can flag them down.”

She nodded with renewed hope shining in her eyes. He didn’t think anyone would be out in this weather, but he wasn’t going to steal hope from her.

He watched as she and Miss Kitty headed back to their table. His mind was three steps ahead, planning for the worst. If they had to spend the night in the restaurant, he needed to be figuring out a place for them to sleep comfortably.

The booths were too short for either of them to stretch out on comfortably. Maybe if he took the table out from between the booths, he could move two booths together and put them end to make it long enough for them to sleep on. First he needed to make the hot chocolate. Anything that would put her mind at ease.

CHAPTER 6

A  few minutes later, he was carrying two mugs of steaming hot chocolate back to the booth. This time he’d found some marshmallows to top off the drink.

He pressed the mug into her hands.

“Thanks.”

“Well, it’s not wine and flowers but I suppose it will do.”

“What do you mean?” She frowned before taking a sip.

He cleared his throat, deciding now was not the time to go all romantic on her. They could very well be spending the night together.

“Nothing.” He chuckled. “So how is business going?” He took a sip, letting the hot, thick chocolate slide down his throat and warm his stomach.

“It’s up and down. It seems a lot of people aren’t interested in paper books anymore since the e-readers have come out.” She took another sip and gazed out the window. “It’s sad. Some kids don’t even know what it’s like to read an actual paper book.”

“Have you always wanted to own a bookstore?” He couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Her chestnut-colored hair fell in waves like velvet silk across her slender shoulders, and her eyes sparkled every time she spoke of her store.

“Yes. I remember as a child going to the library and loving the smell of the paper and leather and the feel of the pages.” She gave him shy smile. “I guess that sounds pretty weird to you, doesn’t it?”

“Not at all. I think doing what you love is the ultimate American dream.” He looked out the window. “You’d be surprised how many people are stuck at a job that they hate because they feel like they have no other options.”

She frowned and set her mug down. The ceramic clinked on the table. She turned, giving him her full attention.

“How about you? You seem to stay pretty booked up. I always see your truck at someone’s house.”

His heart sunk. He could lie, but he didn’t want to do that. Not with her. With her, he wanted to be truthful.

“When I started my business, I expected to be pretty successful. I picked that line of work because people always need a plumber. Plus I had a lot of friends here in Cloverton, so naturally I could get a lot of business. Now a lot of my so-called friends I grew up with won’t even send me their business. I think in a way they felt like I let them down by not getting into the NFL when I had the chance. But once I got to college, I realized I didn’t want to spend my life playing football. The house calls I’ve made don’t end up much better either. Sometimes it’s a housewife who is looking for a little action while the husband is at work.” He shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Jake.” She reached over and touched his hand. “I had no idea. Honestly, I figured you were doing well.” She frowned. “And for your friends not to support your business is, well, it’s shitty.”

He grinned. He’d never heard her utter a curse word in her life. Yet she was mad enough on his behalf that she was letting loose with the cursing.

“It doesn’t matter.

“Yes, it most certainly does matter.” She lifted her chin in defiance. “Is plumbing what you really want to do?”

“Well, my plan was to start this business and get it going and eventually sell it. I’d love to be able to buy some of the buildings here on Main Street as an investment. Fix them up and sell them for a profit.”

“Like a house flipper?”

“Yeah, like that. Eventually I’d like to start buying up land. I have always felt like land is a safe investment. It’s something that you can’t make more of.”

“Then you should totally do it.”

Her confidence in him made him shift in the plastic booth. He’d never told anyone this before. Yeah, he’d confided in his family, but never in a woman. But with Eliza, he felt safe talking to her about something as intimate as his dreams without worrying about being teased about it.

Meow.

The cat sat back on its haunches and batted its paw at his sleeve.

“Looks like someone is trying to get my attention.” He grinned as he rubbed the cat between the ears.

“She’s hungry. I was going to feed her after I closed up the store, but then she had the nerve to run off.” Eliza scowled at the cat. The cat, ignoring her mistress, continued to look at him with yellow eyes.

“I think Miss Kitty has the right idea. I’m pretty hungry myself. Let’s go see what we can scrounge up in the kitchen.”

“Do you think Mrs. Wentworth will be mad that we are eating her food?”

“She’ll be mad at herself for not checking to make sure no one was still inside before she locked us in. I’m sure she’s fine with us eating whatever we find.”

She nodded and slid out of the booth. Her dark red sweater reminded him of

autumn leaves and made her brown eyes sparkle. It was an amazing color on her. But then again, Eliza could wear a garbage bag and still look beautiful.

They made their way toward the back of the restaurant to the kitchen. The chill in the kitchen was something he was going to have to fix ASAP. He turned on the stove burners, and the blue flame sparked to life.

He saw her frown. “I’m just taking the chill off. I’ll see what’s in the refrigerator if you want to check those cabinets over there for some candles. I know Mrs. Wentworth puts out candles on the tables at night.”

She busied herself searching the cabinets while he dug through the refrigerator. Finding the ingredients for lasagna, he began to pull out what he needed and placed it on the counter.

“Score.” Eliza turned around with an armful of white tapered candles.

“I’m not so sure we’ll need all those, but...”

“Are you kidding? I watch those survivor shows on TV. We should be prepared.” She glanced down at the load in her arms. “This should take care of the lighting, some warmth and possible cooking if needed.”

He barked out a laugh. “Well, it might take care of the lighting. But unless you are cooking a beanie weenie, then it’s not going to put out enough heat to cook a meal.”

“Fine. I’ll go look and see if there is something for Miss Kitty.”

“I think I saw some tuna in the refrigerator.”

“I hate to take it. I know Mrs. Wentworth was going to have a special this weekend.”

“That’s not happening now. Even if the snow stops, no one is going to be going out with the roads in this shape this weekend. Go ahead and give it to Miss Kitty.”

She opened the refrigerator and pulled out the tuna. Cutting off a piece, she cut it into manageable bites for the cat while he got busy heating some ground beef in the skillet. Soon the kitchen was filed with warmth from the stove and aromas of cooking food.

“What can I do to help?” She stuck her hands in her jeans pockets and leaned in to smell the cooking seasoned meat. Her sweet perfume went to his head.

It was all he could do not to wrap his arms around her and hold her close.

“I think we could have some wine with our meal. What do you think?”

“A nice bottle of Cabernet?” She arched her brow.

“Perfect. I think she keeps the wine over there.” He pointed to the far side of the kitchen.

She returned with a bottle while clutching two wine glasses by the stems.

“And look what I found.” He dangled a corkscrew he’d found in a nearby drawer.

She passed him the bottle of wine. Their fingers touched, and a jolt of electricity shot through his body. Her gaze lifted up to his, and her lips parted. She’d felt the connection too. This whole attraction wasn’t one-sided.

Thank God.

She took a step back and placed the glasses on the counter. “You don’t have to do that, you know.”

“Do what?”

“You don’t have to act like you’re interested.” Her expression shuttered and she shook her head.

Her words were like a jackhammer in the chest. “What?”

Turning around, she faced him. Planting her hands on the counter behind her, she lifted her chin. “Jake, I know I’m not your type.”

“Eliza…” He narrowed his eyes and took a step toward her.

She held up her hand to stop him. “Don’t. Just don’t. I know what you’re going to say. That kiss was a mistake. It never should have happened.” She blinked and then looked away as she held her head high. “Let’s just forget about it and focus on surviving the night. After tonight, we won’t ever talk about it again.”

She shoved off the counter, but he caught her by the arm before she could escape.

CHAPTER 7

“Eliza, we’re going to talk about this, whether you like it or not.” He narrowed his gaze. Why in the hell would she even think for one second he regretted kissing her?

“I don’t pretend with women. Hell, I don’t pretend with anyone. I am who I am, and if people don’t like it, then I really don’t care.”

She cocked her head as she listened to him. She looked as if she was trying to decide whether he was telling the truth or not.

“When I kissed you, it was because I wanted to kiss you. I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while. I just never had the chance or the opportunity.” It was his turn to act defensive. He crossed his arms over his chest. “And how do you know my type anyway?”

She shrugged. “Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve always dated blondes.”

“So you are basically judging me on what I did back in high school?” His chest tightened.

“I just assumed…”

“Right. You just assumed, like everyone else, who I am.” He took a step back.

“Jake, I’m not your type. You can’t seriously be saying that there is something between us?” The look of disbelief was scrawled all over her pretty face.

Wow. That hurt way more than he liked admitting. Picking up his ego off the floor, he turned back to the stove and concentrated on the meat sizzling in the skillet.

“Jake, I didn’t mean to…’

He shook his head. He needed time to cool off to make some sense of what was going on.

“Maybe we should just give each other some space. Something tells me it’s going to be a long night,” he said quietly.

He didn’t watch her as she went back into the dining area. He did have some pride. Instead he concentrated on making the lasagna that he knew he no longer had an appetite for.

He just hoped the rest of the night would pass quickly.

ELIZA’S STOMACH churned as she sat alone in the booth near the window.

She’d never meant to hurt Jake’s feelings, but she’d just succeeded in doing just that. How could she explain that she’d never thought someone like him would be interested in her? And why was he even acting like he really liked her?

A tiny voice inside her head nudged her, telling her that maybe, just maybe, Jake did like her, and as more than just a friend.

She shook her head. He could have any woman in Cloverton, hell, any woman in Tennessee. Why would he want her?

She took a deep breath and wished she hadn’t left that wine in the kitchen. She could certainly use a glass right now.

Miss Kitty jumped up on the table and batted at Eliza’s hand with her paw.

“I know, I know you’re hungry.” She should have grabbed the tuna before escaping from the kitchen. “I need wine and you need tuna. Well, we’re both outta luck.”

She rubbed her cat between the ears and rested her chin in the palm of her hand as she looked out the window. This was totally not how she’d planned on spending her night. And if she had dreamed of ever getting trapped with a gorgeous guy, she sure as heck never would have expected to turn down his advances. But once again her insecurity crept in to whisper in her ear and mess up her plans.

What was done was done. Besides, it was probably better to get everything out in the open before she got hurt. No need to spend her Christmas pining over a guy who was just going to end up breaking her heart.

“Got to keep it moving, Miss Kitty,” she whispered into the dark as the snow picked up even more speed. The streetlamps cast a cozy yellow glow against the snow that was quickly accumulating along the sidewalks and streets. The electric lines swayed under the growing weight of the snow and ice. It was getting dark fast, and she wasn’t sure if the streetlamps would even still have electricity in a few hours.

Standing up, she gathered her courage and headed for the kitchen to grab the candles and the bottle of wine.

The aroma of Italian food assaulted her nose the second she stepped inside the warmth of the kitchen. Jake was busy arranging the layers of cheese, flat noodles, and meat in a stainless-steel cooking dish. He didn’t bother looking up as she entered.

Taking a deep breath, she spoke. “I forgot Miss Kitty’s food.”

“It’s on the counter. I poured some milk in a saucer as well.” Jake kept his gaze on the food he was preparing.

Her heart tugged within her chest. He’d been so thoughtful to go the extra mile for her cat. No guy had ever done that before. Most of the guys she knew didn’t even like cats.

Swallowing back the knot forming in her throat, she spoke. “Thank you.” She skirted the counter and picked up the food and the saucer of milk and placed them on the floor. Miss Kitty trotted over and quickly began to devour the feast as she let out a continuous purr of pleasure.

“I opened the wine, if you want to go ahead and pour yourself some. I didn’t know if you wanted to wait to have it with your meal or not.”

“I usually have a glass while I cook.” She reached picked up the wine bottle and poured some into both wineglasses. She handed him a glass. “But you’re the one cooking, so you definitely deserve it.”

“Thank you.” He took the glass and lifted it to his lips and took a drink. “Hmmm. This is pretty good.”

“You drink wine too?”

“Yeah, I do. Did you think I just drink moonshine and poach animals?” He arched his brow.

She laughed and shook her head. “No, it’s just you are quickly becoming an enigma to me.”

“How’s that?” He frowned. “I think I’m pretty straightforward.”

“Yeah, and that’s what I don’t get. Usually people have a motive behind their actions. Good or bad, there’s always a reason why people do the things they do.”

“Sounds like you’ve been burned before.”

She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “It’s just life. I think my perspective was solidified when I was in high school.”

“What happened?” He narrowed his gaze as he gave her his full attention.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” She motioned toward the casserole. “I know you’re busy.”

She took another sip of wine and let the liquid calm her nerves.

“I want to hear.” He opened the oven and popped the dish inside. “Besides, we have an hour until it cooks.”

“What was your favorite part of school?” She arched her brow.

“I don’t know. Sports, history, math.” He creased his brow as he settled a hip against the stainless-steel countertop and took another sip of the red wine. “Why?”

“Because growing up, it was always made clear to me where I do and don’t fit in.” She took a big drink and placed the glass on the counter. Bracing her hands on counter, she hopped up and sat on it. She swung her legs as she took a deep breath. “When I was in kindergarten, Susie Thurmond punched me in the stomach in the girl’s bathroom. Later I asked her why she did it, and she said she didn’t like my clothes. “

“Susie Thurmond? The youth pastor at the Methodist Church?”

She nodded. “And when I was in elementary school, the other girls would never let me play softball. They said I sucked and nobody wanted me on their team.” She tossed back the wine. “I learned very quickly what my station was in life. “

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Jake, it means when you are born into a small town, you are born into a category. My category was book nerd who couldn’t get a date in high school.” The wine had warmed her and given her the liquid courage she needed. She pointed a finger in his direction and smirked. “Your category was popular hot guy who could have any girl he wants.” She waved her hand in the space between them. “That’s why we can’t happen. We are in different categories.”

CHAPTER 8

“T  hat’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” He curled his hands into fists and stalked toward her.

Her heart sped up in her chest as he stopped between her legs, inches in front of her. He looked pretty pissed, but for some odd reason, it was turning her on. His face radiated anger. Still, she didn’t care.

“That’s just how things are here.” She shrugged and grabbed her wineglass. His fingers wrapped around her wrist. With his free hand, he tugged the glass out of her hand and set it on the counter out of her reach.

“Hey.” She pouted. “I need that…”

“No, you don’t. But I do have something you need.” He framed her face with his hands. Calloused fingertips brushed against her jaw, and she trembled at the intimate sensation of his touch.

“I’m going to kiss you, Eliza. Not because we’re trapped here, but because I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since high school. I wanted to ask you to the prom, but I knew you would just turn me down because you thought I was just some dumb jock. You never saw how I looked at you because you never looked my way. If you had, I wouldn’t have waited this long to do this.” He bent his head and stopped. His gaze held hers with an intensity that made her heart ache.

“This time when I kiss you, I don’t want you to think, I just want you to feel. Understood?”

She nodded, too thrown for a loop to say a word. Her body heated as she waited for his mouth to cover hers. She’d kissed him before, only in her dreams, But right now, under the heady sensation of the wine, he was about to kiss her again. For real.

She was tired of holding her breath and waiting, so she didn’t wait any longer.

She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, wound her fingers through his silky dark hair, and pulled him closer. His mouth descended on hers, and she welcomed him with an open-mouthed kiss. She sighed in appreciation as his tongue dipped inside her mouth and tangled with her own. He tasted of sweet wine and spicy male.

He stepped closer and let his hands fall to her shoulders. His hands trailed down her arms and rested at her hips. His fingers gripped her hips and he pulled her closer until their bodies were pressed together. Her nipples pressed against his muscled chest, hardened and peaked. She leaned into his warmth, needing more. His erection pressed into her stomach, and she wiggled against him, wanting to feel every inch of his body against hers.

“Damn, Eliza,” he breathed out as his mouth trailed kisses to her neck. “You’re making it hard to walk away from you right now.”

“I don’t want you to walk away.” She arched her neck as he sucked the sensitive skin into his hot mouth. Her skin pebbled with desire as pleasure shot through her entire body.

“Good. Cause I don’t plan on going anywhere. Not even after we get out of here.”

“Stop talking.” She guided his mouth back to her lips and kissed him deeply.

He chucked against her lips at her eagerness. She dragged her fingertips down his chest, feeling each ridge of sinewy muscle through his shirt.

She pulled his shirt out of his jeans and slid her fingertips underneath, touching bare flesh.

He hissed and pulled away, searing her with a heated look.

She held his gaze as she slowly unbuttoned his shirt. When she reached the last button, she shoved the material off his broad shoulders and down his arms, revealing a wall of defined muscle the likes of which she’d only dreamed about.

She grinned as she ran her fingertips over his chest. He captured her hand in his and brought it to his mouth. He sucked the pad of her finger into his mouth and pulled, making her turn to liquid.

His eyes darkened with desire, and she knew what he wanted. It was what she wanted too.

“We can wait.” His voice was husky as it filled the void between them. “I’ve waited this long for you. I’m willing to wait however long it takes.”

“No. I’m tired of waiting.” She pulled him close and kissed him, sucking his tongue into her mouth.

He cupped her butt and lifted her off the counter.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere more comfortable,” he whispered against her neck.

CHAPTER 9

He grabbed two candles and a lighter before finding her mouth with his.

She tightened her legs around his waist as he carried her toward the swinging doors that led into the restaurant. He turned and backed his way through the doors and into the restaurant without breaking the kiss.

Sweet and hot, she was everything he’d imagined and more.

His heart pounded in his chest as he made his way back to the booth where they’d sat earlier. He gently placed her on the table and pulled back slightly.

“Hang on.” He placed the two candles in their little holders and held the flame of the lighter to each. A soft, gentle yellow light shone against the darkness. He placed the candles on the other end of the table near the window.

He stepped in between her legs and cradled her face between his palms.

“Kiss me,” she whispered.

“You’re so damn beautiful.” He was certain she could hear his heart beating. There was no going back now.

She smiled, sending his breathing into overdrive. He slid his fingers through her silken hair as he continued to gaze into her caramel eyes. He didn’t just want to tell her how he felt. He wanted to show her.

“Jake, what do you want?” She cocked her head and stared up at him with heavy eyes. Her lips were glossy and swollen from his kisses.

“I want you.”

“You can have me.” She ran her hand up his chest to his neck to pull him in for another amazing kiss.

He stopped before their lips met.

“What’s wrong?” Doubt flickered through her eyes.

Damn. It was now or never.

“I need you to know something, Eliza. I need you to understand that I don’t just want one amazing night with you. I want more. I want a million nights with you.”

“What?”

He cleared his throat. “I’ve cared about you for a very long time. And I’ve never had the balls to do anything about it. Until now. I want you with every cell in my body, but if you think this is just a one-night stand, then this isn’t going to happen.” He brushed his thumb against the side of her cheek as his heart filled with so much emotion it was overwhelming.

“I don’t understand.” She licked her lips. “You don’t want to sleep with me?”

He barked out a laugh and shook his head. “I want nothing more than to make love to you right here on this table. And I want to do it again tomorrow night and the next night and a thousand nights after that. I want something more than just sex. I want a chance at a relationship with you.”

Her eyes glazed, and she blinked. Silence followed and he shifted his weight, feeling like a fool.

“You like me?”

“I more than just like you. I think I’m in love with you. In fact, I know I’m in love with you. I always have been.” His heart seemed to stop in his chest as he waited for her reply.

“I’m not asking you to make a commitment forever. Not yet.” He sure as hell hoped for it. One day. “I’m asking you to take a chance on me. On us. And if you think that sex will complicate it, then I’m willing to wait.”

“Eliza, please say something.” Fear of rejection rushed into his head.

“Jake.” She held his hand to her cheek and closed her eyes. “This is not one-sided. I’ve been attracted to you for a long time.”

“You have?” Hope rose in his chest.

She dragged her hands up his arms and laced her fingers behind his neck. “Yes. And I would like to see where this goes.”

“You would?”

“You may be right about waiting to have sex.”

His hope dropped.

“But I have to say I’m very turned on right now.”

“You are?” His heart leaped.

“Why don’t we compromise?” Her lips quirked up in a sexy smirk that made his body rock-hard. Her hand slid down his chest and skirted under his shirt. He shivered under her touch as she trailed her fingertips across his bare chest.

“What did you have in mind?” he managed to say.

“Well, we should start off just kissing.” She pressed her lips to his and then pulled back. “See where that goes.” She kissed him again. “And push it right up to the boundary line.”

He lifted her off the table and set her on her feet.

With strength and speed he didn’t know he had, he pulled out the table between the two booths. The candles wobbled and tilted, but he caught them before they turned over. Picking up the candles, he set them on the window ledge and continued to move the table out of the way.

He turned around.

She stood there under the glimmer of candlelight looking more perfect than he’d ever imagined.

He eased onto the booth and held out his hand. She placed her hand in his was pulled into his lap. Brushing his fingertips across her cheek, he pulled her mouth to his. He moved his lips across her, slow and unhurried. He wanted to take his time, letting the memory of how she felt, how she tasted, be burned into his mind.

ELIZA LEANED into the kiss as she parted her lips under Jake’s talented mouth. The feel of his body snuggled close to hers set her soul on fire.

She let out a moan as his tongue snaked inside her mouth and tangled with hers. She threaded her fingers though his hair. Tilting her head, she returned the kiss with a blazing intensity that she’d never felt before.

“Take your shirt off,” she panted as her fingers found the buttons on his shirt. She needed to feel him, now.

“But…” He pulled back and met her gaze.

“We’ll keep our pants on.” She bit her lip as her fingers danced across his buttons and flicked them open.

He groaned as she parted the shirt and shoved it off his shoulders. Her fingers danced over a broad chest and rock-hard muscles. His fingers were curled into fists at his sides as he let her explore his body with her touch.

By the set of his clenched jaw, she knew he had to restrain himself from pulling her into his arms. She’d never thought she could cause such a reaction in Jake.

“I want to see you.” He rasped, looking up at her under heavy-lidded eyes.

She laced her hands behind his head and pulled him to her mouth. She couldn’t get enough of his kisses. They were addictive, like chocolate.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as he kissed her deep and hard. Her heart stuttered in her chest as she began to fall in love with him. The thought terrified her, and she pulled away.

He must have read the fear in her eyes because what came out next shook her to her core.

“Don’t, Eliza. Don’t overthink this.”

“Jake…”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“What are you? A mind reader?”

“No.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. He pressed a gentle kiss on her knuckles as he kept his gaze on her. “I’m just a guy. A guy who has been in love with a girl since high school.” He pressed his lips to her wrist. “I’m just a guy who wants you so bad it hurts. I’m just a guy who wants you to trust me with your heart. And I’m a guy who wants a forever future with you.”

Her throat tightened with emotion. It was the most perfect words a guy had ever spoken to her.

“You’re not just a guy, Jake.”

“If I thought you would say yes, I would ask you right here. Right now.” His breathing increased as he spoke.

Her mouth dropped open at what he was implying.

“I want to go slow,” she said.

He nodded. “I understand. Whatever you need.”

“I want you. All of you. Tonight.” She spoke with her heart, ignoring her head. Tonight she was going to live by her heart and damn the consequences.

His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth. She pressed her fingers to his lips.

“Don’t try to talk me out of it. I’m pretty convincing when I want to be.” She slid her hands down his chest. “Do you have anything?”

He frowned as he felt for his wallet in his back jeans pocket. “I don’t know. I haven’t planned for this.” He dug out his brown wallet and pulled it open. A slow grin crossed his lips as he pulled out a silver square.

CHAPTER 10

She felt her face heat as he held up the condom. A shiver of excitement raced through her body as he pulled her close. His mouth trailed kisses down her neck. She threaded her fingers into his hair and pulled him close. He sucked on the sensitive spot in the crook of her neck.

He found her mouth again and skirted his fingers under her sweater. She pulled back and lifted the hem and tugged the sweater over her head. His eyes widened with desire as his gaze dipped to her pink, lacy bra.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and sunk into his embrace as he kissed her.

It was a flurry of shedding clothes and inhibitions. She tugged off her shoes and jeans as well as her bra. He took off his jeans, boots, and shirt. When it was done, they stood before each other in nothing but boxers and panties.

She took a breath and stepped into his warmth. They were flesh against flesh, and she arched her hips into his, feeling his erection against her stomach.

“Jake,” she whispered as his fingers slipped inside her damp panties. She clung to him as he teased the sensitive flesh between her legs. “Now.” She tugged his underwear down past his hips. His erection sprang free, and she wrapped her fingers around the length.

“Jesus,” he moaned and thrust into her palm. “Easy, sweetheart.” He moved her hand and grabbed the condom. In one swift move, he sheathed himself. Tugging her into his arms, he kissed her. His hands slid to her bottom and lifted.

She wrapped her legs around his waist. His mouth found hers as he teased her with his tongue. She reached between their bodies and guided his erection to her wet entrance. She looked into his eyes as he slid inside her body.

Pleasure shook her body as he stretched and filled her. He clenched his jaw as he tried to go slow. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders as she moaned out his name.

“Jesus, Eliza.” His breathing was labored as he gripped her hips. “You feel so damn good.” He slid out before thrusting back in.

“Yes, don’t stop,” she whimpered as she found his mouth and sucked on his tongue.

It was more than she’d imagined and better than she could dream. Pleasure tingled and sparked through her body like a live wire as he continued to thrust. His mouth licked and sucked her taut nipple into his mouth as he leaned her back against the seat of the booth. She held his head to her breast writhing underneath his hard body.

In a blizzard of pleasure, her orgasm washed over her, cresting so hard she cried out as she dug her nails into his back. An explosion of sound seemed to echo in the room. He continued to thrust, harder and deeper, until she’d ridden her own climax out and she was nothing but a puddle in his arms.

She looked into his eyes as he groaned out his own orgasm, thrusting deep inside her and gripping her hips.

He clung to her, their bodies both glistening with sweat.

He frowned as the shrill noise continued to wail.

“Damn. I think that’s the smoke alarm. We forgot about the lasagna.” He chuckled and looked back at her.

He pulled back and looked into her eyes. The tenderness she saw had tears welling up in her eyes.

“Don’t cry.” He brushed an escaped tear from the corner of her eyes with his thumb. “Did I hurt you?” His eyes narrowed in horror and concern.

“No, of course not.” She shook her head and blinked. “I’m just really overwhelmed.”

“I know.” His expression relaxed, and he kissed her lips. “I need to tell you something.”

“What?” Her heart froze. Did he think this was a mistake? That she was a mistake?

“I don’t want you to date anyone else. I want an exclusive relationship with you and you alone.” He caressed her cheek as he stared down at her.

“You do?”

“Yes, I do. I’ll settle for that for right now. But I want you forever. I’ve always wanted you. And if I didn’t think you’d freak out, I’d pop the question right now.”

Her eyes widened. She wasn’t sure what to say.

He laughed. “Don’t worry. I don’t have a ring in my pocket.” He winked. “Yet.”

She laughed and pulled him down for a kiss. He held back and looked into her eyes.

“You didn’t answer my question. Will you date only me?”

Her heart swelled with so much love she felt she could fly. “Yes, Jake. I promise to date you and only you.”

He grinned and covered her mouth with a breath-stealing kiss. Her body stirred to life as the kiss grew more demanding.

“Anyone in here?” A male voice from the kitchen called out.

Eliza grasped and tried to shove Jake off to gather her clothes. He cursed and stood up. She managed to grab the nearest article of clothing, his shirt, and to shove her arms in the sleeves before Mitch and Sloan burst through the swinging kitchen doors.

“Jake, what are you and Eliza…” Sloan Jackson’s voice trailed off just as Jake slid his jeans over his hips.

“Well, looks like they are doing more than just trying to burn the kitchen down with lasagna.” Mitch snorted.

Eliza turned ten shades of red as she tried to cover herself with Jake’s oversized shirt.

“Shut it, Mitch.” Jake narrowed his eyes and shoved her behind him.

“What are you two doing in here, anyway?” Sloan kept his eyes to the ceiling, while Mitch didn’t attempt to conceal his amusement.

“We got trapped. Mrs. Wentworth put a padlock on the door and the electricity and phone line went out. Neither of us had our cell phones, so we couldn’t call for help.” Jake cocked his head. “How did you know we were here?”

“We didn’t.” Sloan shook his head. “We were driving by and we saw the candles in the window. We were going to cut the padlock off the door, but the fire department beat us to it.”

“The fire department is here?” Eliza croaked out.

“Yeah, apparently someone burned lasagna and the smoke alarm went off alerting the fire department.” Sloan nodded toward the kitchen. “They’re in the kitchen unsuccessfully resuscitating burned lasagna. Better get dressed before they bust in here.”

The two headed back into the kitchen, and Eliza wasted no time putting her clothes back on. Jake followed suit.

She looked around for Miss Kitty and froze when she saw that Jake was holding her cat in his arms.

“I think that since we will be snowbound for the next few days, you should stay with me.” He grinned, making her heart melt like caramel.

“Hmm. What about Miss Kitty? All her stuff is at my house.”

“Good thinking. Then I’ll come to your house. That is, if you don’t mind.” He stepped into her space and captured her hand in his.

Her heart caught in her chest as she stared up at him. “I don’t mind, but you don’t have any clothes there.”

He grinned and pulled her close. “I don’t plan on needing any clothes.”

She reached up on tiptoes and kissed him hard. Miss Kitty let out a loud meow, letting Eliza know she was being squished. When she pulled back, she nodded.

He grabbed his coat and put it across her shoulders before walking through the kitchen. A few of the firemen gave them curious stares, but she ignored them.

She was headed for a different future, and she knew it in her heart. Stepping out into the snow, she didn’t really notice the cold as Jake held her close.

This Christmas given her something she would never forget.

The promise of love.

The End

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jodi is the author of the RISE OF THE ARKANSAS WEREWOLVES series and writes paranormal romance as well as contemporary romance. Born and raised in Mississippi, her deep Southern roots and love of the paranormal led her to write Southern Paranormal novels. When she is not conversing with characters in her head, she can be found at her home in Northeast Arkansas with her handsome husband, brilliant son, a temperamental swan, and yellow lab that is fond of retrieving turtles when duck season is over.

Find her on Facebook, Jodi Vaughn, author.

Follow her on Twitter @JodiVaughn1

Sign up for her newsletter and check out her website http://jodivaughn.com

Find her on Instagram at VaughnJodi1

RISE OF THE ARKANSAS WEREWOLVES series

BY THE LIGHT OF THE MOON (Book 1)

BENEATH A BLOOD LUST MOON ( Book 2)

DESIRES OF A FULL MOON (Book 3 )

DARKSIDE OF THE MOON (Book 4 )

Book 5 coming 2016

SOMEWHERE, TEXAS series

SADDLE UP

TROUBLE IN TEXAS

BAD MEDICINE (coming 2015)

CLOVERTON series

LOST WITHOUT YOU coming December 2015

All books available on Amazon, iTunes, Google, Kobo, B&N and ARe. Check http://jodivaughn.com for the direct links.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Mistletoe Misconduct

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

About the Author

Hearts On Ice

Copyright

Foreword

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

About the Author

Romance. Avalanche. Love.

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

About the Author

The Runaway Sleigh

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

About the Author

Merry TREXmas

Copyright

Foreword

Preface

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

About the Author

Holiday Mischief

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

About the Author

Yes, You

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

About the Author

Underneath My Christmas Tree

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

About the Author

Love Walks In

Copyright

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

About the Author

Marrying Mr. English ~ Part 1

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Epilogue

About the Author

As We Dream By The Fire ~ Line Of Fire Series

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

About the Author

Christmas In Cloverton

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

About the Author