by Amy Lamont
He arrived bright and early on Christmas Eve. When he saw all the stuff I had packed up to take with me, he froze in the doorway of my apartment.
“Don’t worry,” I rushed to explain. “I’m not moving in indefinitely. There are just a few traditions I have…”
I trailed off as it hit me that I should have asked him if all of this would be okay. We’d spent most of the time we’d known each other having sex. Mind-blowing, amazing, out-of-this-world sex. Maybe that was all he had in mind for the next few days, just a continuance of the one-night stand.
As I stood there biting my lip, frantically trying to think of how to backpedal and leave some of it behind, he stepped inside and kissed me. It was quick and hard, but held lots of promise. While I worked on shaking off the daze his kiss left me in, he scooped up my bags and headed toward the door.
Guess he didn’t mind humoring me with my Christmas traditions.
His condo came as a bit of a surprise. The address overlooking the park didn’t come as a shock. But the fact that it was comfortable and lived in and, while spacious, but not humongous, did. I loved it. It suited him and wasn’t at all the modern, streamlined, oversized penthouse his billionaire status had me expecting.
It was also decked out from top to bottom in Christmas decorations.
“You told me you didn’t do Christmas,” I said.
And for the first time since I met him, he looked a little embarrassed. My mouth dropped. Seriously, I swear the tips of his ears got a little pink.
“But you do Christmas,” he said quietly.
I twirled and took in the lights and the garlands, the stockings on the mantel, and the tall Christmas tree with its pile of presents underneath.
“You don’t do this every year?”
The expression he turned on me could best be described as a grimace. “No, I don’t do this. Ever.”
“So where did all this…” I gestured around the room, and words failed me as I took it all in.
“My staff helped me with it.”
I turned to him and tears prickled behind my eyes. “You did all this…” I couldn’t bring myself to say it. Too afraid to hope it could be true.
“For you,” he said. “I did all this for you.”
I froze for an instant. But then I dropped my bags and raced across the room to throw myself into his arms. It took us a little while after that to get to putting away the things I’d brought.
Later, he helped me bake Christmas cookies. And by helped, I mean he sat at the kitchen bar and taste tested cookie dough as I made it. That too had ended up with me in his arms. Or more precisely, us on the floor covered in flour with a batch of sugar cookies burning to a crisp in the oven.
Christmas morning had brought its own surprises. Turned out most of the brightly wrapped gifts under the tree were for me. Though I’d managed to sneak a few of my own under there when Nate wasn’t looking.
I’d be lying if I said many of those boxes for me didn’t contain sexy lingerie. I didn’t mind. It thrilled me that Nate saw me that way. For the first time in my life, I felt sexy and desirable. I couldn’t wait to try them on.
But there were some other things in there, too. He’d given me a pair of red plaid pajama bottoms with an oversized matching sweatshirt.
“For the nights we can’t spend together,” he’d told me.
And my breath left my lungs when I unwrapped a small blue box with a white ribbon. Inside I found a snowflake pendant of diamonds and platinum. I wanted to say it was too much. That he shouldn’t be spending money like that on me. But my throat clogged with tears at the sight of the beautiful piece of jewelry that would forever remind me of this day and of the moment we met in the hotel bar decked out to look like a winter wonderland.
Before I found my voice, he had the necklace clasped around my neck. All I could say was “Thank you.”
My own gifts felt like nothing in comparison, mostly in keeping with the magic of Christmas theme. But he seemed genuinely pleased with the snow globe of Manhattan during Christmas and the ornament from the Hotel Wynter. I’d also stuffed his stocking full of silly things—chocolates and puzzle books, funny socks and a booklet of sex coupons.
But his favorite gift from me was one I almost hadn’t given him. I’d debated a long time before I wrapped it up.
He’d opened the box I placed it in and looked up at me in question. I reached over and pulled the pile of pages out. “I wrote it for you,” I explained. “It’s our story. Of the night we met. But for your eyes only. And I didn’t give Brandi credit for this one.”
He looked at me for several long moments and then down at the pages in his hand. I held my breath as he read, afraid he’d be pissed or think I broke my promise about never writing about him.
But when he turned his gaze on me, I knew I had nothing to fear. His beautiful eyes had turned a dark amber, the green barely visible. Before I knew what he planned, he had me pinned to the floor surrounded by piles of wrapping paper. He stripped me of my red silky robe and matching nighty and worked hard at recreating the night we met.
The rest of the day we spent making love, cuddling and nibbling the munchies and the Christmas dinner his staff had left prepared for us.
And now, I was happy to lie under the tree, the Christmas lights the only light in the room. Nate’s hand absently sifted through my hair while I traced patterns over his chest with my finger.
“Merry Christmas,” I whispered.
He tightened his hold on me and used his hand in my hair to turn my face up to his for a long, slow kiss. “Merry Christmas.”
“Do you feel the magic yet?” I couldn’t help but ask.
He smiled down at me. “I might have to admit the last two days were a little bit magical. But I think it had more to do with you than Christmas.”
My heartbeat picked up speed and I stretched up to leave a line of kisses along his jaw. I let him believe what he wanted, but I knew the truth—the magic of Christmas had delivered this man to me.
I squeezed my eyes tight and sent one more Christmas wish out into the universe—please, please let me have many more Christmases with Nate.
THE END
Holiday Encounters Book 2
Snowbound with the Biker
Amy Lamont
Chapter 1
I plopped my bag into my desk drawer and sank onto my seat with a sigh. I’d been lucky enough to get five days off for New Year’s, but staring at the pile of paperwork waiting for me, it didn’t seem nearly long enough. Weird, sexy dreams had plagued me pretty much every night since then, so I wasn’t exactly relaxed and refreshed when I returned.
I sighed and started plowing through the files at the top of the stack. A few folders in, it became clear my boss dumped some of his case files on me. Again. I’d discovered in a hurry that jobs in social services involved lots of bureaucracy and paperwork and red tape. But my job seemed to involve a lot more of that and very little of what I actually wanted to do—help kids in the foster care system.
And the reason I had more than the regular amount of paperwork to do strolled through the door almost twenty minutes late.
“Katelyn, you’ve finally managed to make it into the office, I see.” Ken, my megalomaniac boss, moved toward his office.
I cringed. I loved how this man didn’t think twice about taking liberties with his own schedule but had no problem taking me to task for taking time off. I clenched my teeth into my best imitation of a smile.
“Yes. I enjoyed my vacation days,” I said, giving him a gentle reminder he had approved my time off. I held up some of the manila files I’d been looking through. “When you have a minute, I have a few questions about some of these cases.”
Ken paused and pinned me with a hard stare. “Miss Murphy, I left detailed case notes on those files. I’m sure you’re more than capable of filling out the reports without any added input from me. Or are you saying you’re incapable of doing your job?”
I narrowed my eyes
at him. “No, I’m perfectly capable of doing my job.”
“Good.” He turned on his heel and moved forward, calling over his shoulder, “A coffee would be great. You don’t mind running to the coffee place on the corner.”
I don’t? ’Cause it certainly felt like I minded. But before I could think of denying his demand, he closed the office door behind him.
With a sigh I fished my purse out of my drawer.
“Why do you put up with that man?”
I looked over at Sue, a veteran social worker who regularly told Ken what he could do with his paperwork.
“I need this job. You know it’s part of my Master’s program. And at least here I can get work experience while I take my classes.” I buttoned up my coat and hooked my purse over my shoulder. “And part of keeping this job is putting up with our esteemed boss.”
She shook her head and tilted it down so she could glare at me over the rims of her reading glasses.
Uh-oh. I’d seen that look before.
“Wrong.” Sue wagged a finger at me. “You do your job perfectly fine. What you don’t have to do is his job.” She jabbed her finger toward Ken’s office door.
I pressed my lips into a grim smile. We’d had this conversation before. And about half a million times I’d had the word “no” on the tip of my tongue when Ken piled his workload on me. But something held me back every time.
Paige’s words from the other night came back to haunt me. Sometimes nice is overrated. I’d spent my whole life believing if I was nice and good and considerate, the universe would pay me back in kind.
My eyes drifted to the pile of work on my desk. If the universe was giving me back what I deserved, I must have been a real bitch in a past life.
Or maybe that’s just not the way the world works.
“You okay, honey?”
I glanced at Sue. Concern filled her gaze. I blew out a breath and offered her a smile. Not like I was going to solve all the mysteries of the universe in the next fifteen minutes.
“I’m fine.” Then I gave her a wicked grin. “But I’ll be taking my time coming back with that coffee.”
Her deep chuckle followed me to the elevator.
The rest of the morning went along a lot like the beginning. At least Ken spent most of it hiding in his office. Right up until a few minutes ago when he breezed out, telling me to send a few emails for him while he was at lunch. A lunch he left for a half an hour early and I fully expected would take him at least an hour and a half.
I blew out a breath, leaned my cheek on my fist and clicked to open Ken’s email folder.
When my phone rang not five minutes later, I was more than ready for the distraction.
I peeked at the number and grinned as I hit the accept button. “Hi, Mom!”
“Hi, honey. Did I catch you at a bad time?”
My grin turned into a wide smile at her words. No need to wonder where I got the niceness gene. “No, Mom, mostly everyone went to lunch. I’m happy to have the excuse to take a break.”
“Oh, good. Listen, sweetie,” my mom’s voice came out in the same tone she’d used when my grandmother passed away, “I have some bad news.”
An enormous lump pushed its way into my throat and I clutched the phone. “Is everyone okay? Is it Logan?”
“Oh, no, everyone’s fine. Your brother’s fine. I heard from him on New Year’s.”
Something inside me eased a bit. With Logan stationed in Afghanistan, I always worried when I hadn’t heard from him in a while.
“So what’s going on, Mom?”
“It’s just that…well, you see, honey…” A deep sigh came through the line. “I guess there’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just say it. I left your father.”
I flew ramrod straight on the edge of my seat. “Wh-what?”
“I know it comes as a shock,” she said.
I had no words. Shock didn’t even begin to cover it. My mom left my dad. My mom whose picture could be put in the dictionary under homemaker. My mom who could give Betty Crocker a run for her money. My mom who spent my childhood catering to the every need of my brother, my father and me.
She left my father.
“Say something, Katydid.”
My childhood nickname pulled me out of my head. “Mom, I don’t know what to say. You really left Dad? How? I mean, why did you…”
She sighed. “I spent all those years taking care of your dad. I worked two jobs when he was in college. Once he went to work, I quit my jobs and stayed home to take care of him and then you and your brother. I always thought, all those years…I thought once you two were grown, it would be my turn. I could follow my dreams and…” She trailed off and several seconds of silence followed.
I sank back onto my chair, dipping my head low. “What was your dream, Mom?”
“I always thought I’d be good at something in healthcare. Maybe a therapist or a nurse or something like that. I volunteered in a nursing home when I was younger and I really loved helping there.”
“You would be wonderful at any of those things,” I said. And it was true. My mom was a born caregiver.
“Don’t get me wrong. I always wanted to be a stay-at-home mom and take care of my family. I know how blessed I’ve been.”
“But?”
“But once you and Logan grew up and moved out, there wasn’t so much for me to do. I mean, how many times can I vacuum the house a day?”
Hmm, before this minute if my mom had asked that question, my answer would have been a hundred and seven. There’d been no doubt in my mind that she lived to vacuum and dust and iron our clothes. But clearly, my mom didn’t live to clean. She lived to take care of other people.
“So you’ve been bored the last few years?” I prompted.
“I guess. I tried volunteering, and that was fine, but then I saw what you’ve accomplished and it got me to thinking.”
“Me? What have I accomplished?”
“You went to college and graduated and found the job you wanted and you’re getting your Master’s degree.”
“I don’t know if this is the job I wanted,” I mumbled.
“You know what I mean.” My mom’s sigh floated through the phone, loaded down with exhaustion and something else. “I want something more. And I always thought if I was just patient, my turn would come.”
I swallowed hard. Mom’s words sounded an awful lot like my own earlier thoughts.
“So can’t you have more with Daddy?” I asked, my voice just barely above a whisper.
“I talked to your Dad about it. He wouldn’t listen. When I mentioned going back to school, he asked if it would interfere with planning the charity auction his company does every year. I swear, he doesn’t even see me as a person anymore. I’m the thing that makes sure his dinner gets to the table every night and his socks and underwear get washed and folded and put in his drawers.”
“Oh, Mom.” My heart squeezed at her words. “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel that way. I know we have a tendency to take you for granted, and you’ve done everything for us.”
My mom clicked her tongue impatiently. “You never made me feel that way. I love taking care of my family. But most of my family is grown and gone and taking care of themselves these days. And now it’s my turn. Only your dad doesn’t see it that way. When he asked about how my going to school would affect him, it hit me. If I want my chance at more, I’m going to have to take it. I can’t wait around for someone else to give it to me. I could be dead before that happens.”
I slumped in my desk chair, my phone clutched to my ear. Mom could be talking about me. My mom was in her fifties and she’d waited more than half her life for someone else to recognize all her good deeds and give her a chance at more. And it never came.
As my mom told me the arrangements she made to get an apartment and start looking for a job, I sat there shell-shocked. And a little niggling voice in the back of my head got louder the longer my mom talked.
I didn’t want to fi
nd myself middle-aged and still waiting for something more for my life.
What the hell am I waiting for?
I sat at my desk after my mom hung up, trying to absorb the shock of her news, worrying about my dad, and turning that question over and over in my head—what am I waiting for? The memory of sitting on the New Jersey transit train back into the city with Jade, Emma and Paige on Thanksgiving mingled with those thoughts. Jade and Paige and I had been so determined to get Emma out of her rut, and we all pointed out how our own lives were lacking to get her to agree.
At the time, I hadn’t let myself think about it too hard, but my complaints about my job and lack of a life suddenly rang true. Just like my mom, I kept waiting for something to happen, for someone to hand me something because I worked so hard and kept my mouth shut.
But what if this was it? What if being nice and hard working wasn’t enough? Was I going to settle for what life handed me until I woke up one morning at fifty-five wondering when my turn would come?
At some point, I’d have to deal with my parents’ separation and talk to my dad and my brother. But right now, the only thing I could do was wonder if I’d gotten it all wrong.
Enough. Time to answer the question already. What was I waiting for?
I closed my eyes and suddenly, just like on New Year’s Eve, just like in every dream I’d had this week, a face popped up in my mind.
Hunter Lawson.
Only this time I didn’t shake it off. I let his image fill my head. And as I thought of him, an idea formed. I was going to get out of my rut. I was going to stop waiting for good things to come to me. I was going to win the bet.
And who better to help me win than Hunter? I’d watched from my window countless times as he jumped on his motorcycle and rode off. How many times had I wished I was on the seat behind him, my arms wrapped around his waist, my face pressed to his back?
Before I could think better of it, I snatched the sticky pad from my desk drawer and wrote a terse note explaining I’d had a family emergency and needed to leave early. I slapped it on Ken’s door and took a brief moment to gleefully picture his face when he saw it and realized he might have to do some of his own tedious work for a change.
