Wrapped in Love

by Lexi Ryan

  “Speaking of dinner,” she says. I almost expected her to avoid me, so I’m surprised when her eyes lock on mine. “I’m going to slide these into the oven and clean up our mess so we can make tonight’s meal. How does spaghetti sound?”

  “Yes!” Noah pumps his fist in the air before looking at me. “You like basketti?”

  “I do,” I say cautiously, my gaze flicking to Molly’s. After last night, I don’t want to overstep and interrupt their family time.

  “Good,” she says. “You can make the salad while I cook the rest.” She brushes a lock of hair out of her face and leaves a streak of flour behind. “Noah, if you get cleaned up, you can watch cartoons until dinner.”

  The kid races from the kitchen and up the stairs like she just told him the entire cast of Paw Patrol was waiting in his room.

  Molly pops the cookies into the oven and takes a deep breath as she surveys the mess. Without a word, she rolls her shoulders back and gets to work, packing up ingredients to return to the pantry, stacking mixing bowls and measuring cups, and wiping down the counter.

  I go to the sink while she cleans, filling it with hot, soapy water to take care of the bigger mixing bowls.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  I shoot her a glance over my shoulder and have to bite back a laugh. The kitchen might be cleaner, but she’s not. “You look like you’ve been attacked by a bag of flour.”

  She props her hands on her hips. “I want to see you make cookies with a four-year-old without turning into a hot mess.”

  I turn off the water and turn to her. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it.” I resist the urge to drag my focus down her body slowly, but it takes all my self-control. Molly undone. That’s how I think of her when she’s like this. I don’t need an advanced psych degree to understand why I find this version of her even more irresistible than the perfectly pressed and put-together businesswoman who runs my banquet center. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Really?”

  Nodding, I step closer, aware of her eyes on me and the way her body tenses and then relaxes as I step into her personal space—like she’s fighting an internal battle between the part of her that wants me to keep that distance and the part that wants me to close it.

  “Careful, or I’ll get flour on your fancy shirt.” Her gaze darts over my shoulder—checking that we’re still alone, no doubt—before returning to my face.

  “I’ll risk it.” I brace my arms on the counter on either side of her and lean forward. “I never got the chance to apologize last night.”

  “Apologize?”

  She’s close enough to kiss. I don’t. “I’m sorry I believed that video even for a minute.”

  “Who can blame you for that?”

  “You deserved more. Better. I proved everything you were afraid of by believing the picture he was trying to paint.”

  “I forgive you, Brayden.” She studies me. “Anyone would have believed it.”

  “Thank you.” I lean an inch closer. “And I’m also glad you’re here, because you said some pretty awful things and then left before I could defend myself.”

  Her eyes go guarded. “It was a bad day. I apologize if I insulted you somehow.”

  “Oh, you really did.”

  She swallows, and I can tell she wants to push this aside and be done with this conversation, but her pride won’t let her. “How?”

  “You said I only want you because I want to save you.”

  “I—”

  I press two fingers over her lips. “And you said I thought you were ruined and damaged goods.”

  She swallows, and her eyes search my face, but she doesn’t shy away from my touch or try to move my fingers.

  “I don’t think you’re ruined. I think you’re amazing, but that doesn’t change that I wish I’d taken things more slowly with you. Nelson hurt you, and you spent so long hiding it that you were never able to heal.”

  She swallows, and tears well in her eyes. “I’m fine,” she whispers against my fingers.

  “You’re strong as hell, and you’ve carried on impressively despite the pain, proving to everyone that he didn’t—couldn’t—ruin you.”

  She takes my wrist and pulls my hand away. “Thank you.”

  She’s uncomfortable talking about this, but I’m not done. “I’m not going to pretend you’re not broken, not when I can see your broken pieces in the way you push me away, the way you refuse to give us a chance.”

  “I tried and—”

  “One day isn’t trying. It’s not even a toe in the water.” I take a deep breath, reining in my frustration. “Jason Ralston accused me of wanting to pretend you don’t have a reputation and only seeing the new Molly. You accused me as only seeing you as broken. You’re both wrong. I see all of you—broken bits, scars, and beautiful, breathtaking strength. I see all of you, and I want all of you. I’m not interested in picking you apart or only taking the shiny bits. I’m in love with the woman who’s all of those things.”

  “You’re the first person who’s ever made me think I might be worth that.” Slowly, she lifts her hand to my face, and her touch is such a profound relief that I think I might shudder at the contact. “I keep thinking about the speech you gave at the wedding. I think you’re right.”

  “About what?”

  “We have a choice. About how we respond to our situations—both our mistakes and our misfortunes.” She runs her thumb down my jaw. “I don’t have to let those things convince me I’m not worthy of happiness. I can choose to be brave.” She lifts onto her toes and brushes her lips against mine. “I want to be brave for you. To be selfish enough about my own joy to be with you even before I’m convinced I deserve you.”

  The single brush of her lips wasn’t enough, but the air fills with the sound of little feet racing down the stairs, so I steal my kiss fast, sweeping my mouth across hers before tugging her bottom lip between my teeth. Her answering moan unravels something inside me, but she steps away fast—just as Noah skids to a halt in the living room beyond the kitchen, the remote already clutched in his little hand.

  Molly’s blue eyes are still on me, and I wink at her. She smiles and damn near knocks me over with shock when she grabs me by the shirt and kisses me hard on the mouth right in front of her son.

  “Mommy, did you just kiss Rayden?” Noah asks.

  Pulling back, she looks at me from under her lashes and licks her lips. “I did.”

  “Why?” he asks, though his attention is more on the TV than on us as he waits for his show to load.

  “Because I love him,” she says softly.

  “Oh,” Noah says. “I love him too.”

  I can only stare at her and try to remember how to breathe.

  She grins. “Dinner?”

  I blink and finally draw in a breath. “I think Christmas just came early.”

  “Rayden!” Noah shouts from the family room, annoyance lacing his tone. “I said I love you!”

  Molly ducks her head and bites her lip.

  I pinch her butt before going to work on the dishes. “I love you too, buddy.”

  Molly

  Christmas Eve and Christmas morning with Brayden and Noah was an endless whirlwind of activity, smiles, long looks across the room (between Brayden and me), occasional pouting (from my overexcited preschooler), and joy. But, in typical excited-child fashion, Noah had Brayden and I out of bed before six, and now, just before seven a.m., all his presents are already unwrapped and he’s happily playing with new toys in the middle of the family room floor.

  Brayden sits next to me on the couch and hands me a fresh cup of coffee. We didn’t sleep much last night, and I can’t even blame Santa for that. Every time I look at him, I want to kiss and touch him, to remind myself this is real.

  “You’re my hero,” I say, then take a sip. “Remind me I owe you later.”

  His eyes dance with mischief. “Trust me, I won’t forget.”

  I bite back a grin and lean over to press
a kiss to his shoulder. “Thank you,” I whisper. “For this morning and . . . everything else. This is the best Christmas we’ve ever had.”

  He reaches between the couch cushions and pulls out a small, wrapped box. “You haven’t opened your present yet.”

  I don’t know what’s going on inside me, but it feels like my heart and stomach just joined hands and did a somersault. “Brayden . . .”

  “Just open it,” he says gently.

  Swallowing hard, I rip the wrapping off the box and lift off the top. Inside on the most delicate silver chain is a beautiful, diamond-encrusted key. It sparkles in the firelight. “It’s beautiful.”

  “There’s something else underneath.” He lifts the jewelry’s insert and reveals a bronze door key.

  “I already have a key to your house.”

  “This isn’t to my house.”

  “What’s it to?”

  He grins. “You’ll find out later. This goes with it.” He hands me a . . .

  “Is that a blindfold?” I say, my eyes darting to Noah before going back to Brayden.

  He chuckles. “That’s not what it’s for.” He rakes his gaze over my flannel Christmas PJs and matching fuzzy socks, and his eyes glaze like I’m wearing nothing but the necklace he just gave me. “But now that you mention it, I do love a multipurpose gift.”

  A thrill runs through me at the thought. Later. “So what is it for, then?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  Luckily for me, soon enough comes in less than two hours when Brayden tells us to climb into his car for Jackson Christmas at the family cabin. I’m a little nervous to go after the Instagram video incident, but Noah’s delight is enough to make me forget my selfish fears and put on my new necklace and a brave face.

  “We have to give your mom her last Christmas gift,” Brayden announces to Noah on the highway. He hands me the blindfold I thought was tucked into my drawer at home. “If you will.”

  I frown at him. “Is this necessary?”

  “Absolutely. Christmas is about surprises, and I want this to be a surprise.”

  “Come on, Mama!” Noah says.

  I give what I hope comes off as a carefree shrug, pull the blindfold down over my eyes, and sit in darkness, listening to Christmas carols for twenty minutes.

  I feel the rumble of gravel beneath the car when Brayden pulls off the highway. “Where are we?”

  “Don’t tell her, Noah,” Brayden says.

  “I won’t!” Noah says from the back, clearly indignant that Brayden thinks he might ruin the surprise.

  The car jerks to a stop, and I wait as I listen to the sounds of Brayden’s opening and closing door, then his feet and Noah’s on gravel before my door opens and big hands guide me out of the car and . . . somewhere. Brayden holds both of my hands, and I take one blind step after another.

  “Brayden?” All I can hear are birds and wind and . . . is that Christmas music in the distance?

  “Be patient. We’re almost there.”

  Noah snickers behind me—the little pest loves being in on the secret.

  “Since you’re blindfolded,” Brayden says, “I’ll do the honors of using your key for you, but just so you know, this is where it goes.”

  “And where might this be?”

  He slips off my blindfold as he opens the big wooden door to his family’s cabin. Just inside the door, everyone is gathered—his brothers, Ava, Nic, Ellie, Shay, his mom, Lilly, and even Teagan are here.

  “Merry Christmas!” they shout in unison.

  “The key,” Brayden says softly into my ear, “because this is your cabin now too.” I hear him swallow as I stare at his grinning family. “And them, because you asked for a family for Christmas. I wanted to give you mine.”

  I spin to face him. I don’t even care that everyone’s watching us or what they’ll think of me as I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him for all I’m worth.

  Brayden

  Eight months later . . .

  I haven’t been this nervous since high school when I took Penny Halcomb to the movies for the first time. I spent thirty minutes trying to decide whether to hold her hand, and by the time she reached over to grab mine, my palms were so sweaty that she pulled away. Not my proudest moment.

  Ooh La La! is packed today. School might be back in session in Jackson Harbor, but tourist season doesn’t die down until well after Labor Day. Regardless, I couldn’t think of a better place to have to ask the most important question I’ve asked in my entire life. And I’m not above a little hot chocolate and cupcake bribery to get the answer I’m hoping for.

  “I brought you here because I need to ask you something,” I say, nudging the blue box across the table. My niece informed me that if it wasn’t Tiffany’s, it wasn’t good enough, and while I don’t believe Molly would care if I shopped at Tiffany’s or Walmart, I wanted to get the very best. “Do you know what that is?”

  Noah McKinley has chocolate all over his mouth and cupcake frosting on his fingers. He licks his lips, his eyes wide as he peers at the diamond ring inside the box. “A ring,” he says.

  I nod. “It’s a special ring, and I want to give it to your mom.”

  “Okay.”

  “The thing is, I wanted to make sure it was okay with you first. If your mom wears this ring, it means we’re going to be a family forever. You, me, and her.”

  Noah licks the frosting off the top of his half-demolished cupcake and gets chocolate frosting on his nose. “We’re already a family. Aren’t we?”

  God, I love this kid. He’s right. Molly and Noah have lived with me since before Christmas, and the only thing this ring would change is their last name. It’s a change I want badly. “Yeah, we are. But if your mom marries me, I’ll be her husband and she’ll be my wife.” I wish I could read his thoughts, because suddenly his expression turns solemn. He puts down his cupcake and pokes at it with his finger. “What is it, buddy?”

  His forehead wrinkles as he stares at the ring. “You’d be Mommy’s husband?”

  I nod, and my stomach knots as his expression grows more unsure. “If she wants me, yeah.”

  He returns to his cupcake, poking at the frosting and avoiding my eyes. “Then could you be my dad?”

  It’s hard to get the damn words out, but I nod. “If you let me, then I’d like that a lot.”

  His head snaps up, and his smile stretches all the way up to his dark eyes. “I’d let you!”

  The sound of a shuddering sob pulls my attention from Noah and to the crowded restaurant beyond our table.

  “Mommy!” Noah shouts, jumping out of the booth and rushing to wrap his chocolatey hands around her legs.

  She stoops to hug her son, but her big blue eyes stay on me. Her flushed cheeks are stained with tears. “I think I ruined the surprise,” she whispers. She scoops Noah into her arms and slides into the booth across from me. “I left the office early and saw your car here, so I thought I’d stop and . . .” She swallows. I can tell she’s trying, but she can’t stop smiling. “Sorry.”

  My heart races so fast that I’m surprised I’m not out of breath. “Are you? Sorry?”

  She shakes her head and draws in a ragged breath. “No. Not at all.”

  Tears stream down her face, and Noah puts his hands on her cheeks, leaving chocolate fingerprints behind. “Will you wear Brayden’s special ring so we can be a family?”

  She meets my eyes across the table and reaches for my hand. “We’re already a family.”

  “But can he be my dad?” Noah says, bouncing in her lap. “Please?”

  She chokes on a sob and kisses the top of her son’s head. “I’d love that.” When she turns her attention back to me, I’ve moved to a knee on the floor by her seat, the ring in my hand.

  “I wasn’t supposed to do this here,” I whisper, feeling all the crowd’s attention as it turns to me.

  “Do it anyway,” she says.

  I drag in a long breath. I was going to prepare a speech
and give her the perfect romantic night. But maybe this is better. Because we aren’t perfect. Our love is like our life: intense and unexpected and messy, and I wouldn’t trade it for perfect, even if I could. “I want all the Prince dance parties in my kitchen and movie nights in the family room. I want a thousand more workouts where you yell at my brothers for trying to kill you and . . .” I scan the room and lower my voice. “A lot of other things I’d rather not detail with an audience.”

  She laughs.

  “You and Noah are already Jacksons. Now I just want to hear it when people say your name. Marry me? Be my wife?”

  She offers me her chocolate-smeared left hand. “You had me at Prince.”

  I slide on the ring and then rise to pick up Noah. “Sorry, buddy, but I’m going to need you to slide over here for a minute.” I plop him into the booth across from his mom. “I want to kiss my fiancée.” I cup Molly’s face in my hands and lower my mouth to hers.

  “Ew!” Noah says. “Enough kisses.”

  “Never,” Molly whispers against my mouth, and I smile and kiss her again.

  Thank you for reading Wrapped in Love, book four in The Boys of Jackson Harbor series. I hope you’ll check out Carter Jackson’s happily-ever-after in Crazy for Your Love, coming spring of 2019! If you’d like to receive an email when I release a new book, please sign up for my newsletter: http://eepurl.com/qymaH

  I hope you enjoyed this book and will consider leaving a review. Thank you for reading. It’s an honor!

  A huge thank-you goes out to everyone who helped make this book a reality. Most of all, a big thanks to my family. Brian, I couldn’t have written Molly’s story without your understanding and support. It came at one of the hardest times in my life, and you held my hand and told me I didn’t have to be okay. Thank you for letting me break when I needed to. You’re better than any hero I’ve ever written. To my kids, Jack and Mary, you are awesome and fun and smart. I’m the luckiest mama ever! Thank you for inspiring me to be my very best. To my mom and sisters, thank you for letting me turn the girls’ beach vacation into my own writing retreat. Best deadline week ever. Of course, to my dad, brothers, sisters, in-laws, aunts, uncles, various cousins, and cousins-in-law, thank you for cheering me on—each in your own way.