Desert Yule

by Anna Lowe

  Our baby. Our son.

  For the baby to sit up had seemed like a major milestone in its time; watching him peer around in wonder at the alpine landscape was another. Her heart soared away at the sight.

  Do that again, she wanted to call to her mate. Swing around so the baby was hidden, reminding her of before, then turn to reveal the after. Kyle as mate, then Kyle as a dad. Back to Kyle as mate, then Kyle as a dad.

  He turned halfway, showing the dad version, and her wolf chuffed with pride.

  My mate. Picked him, saved him, kept him. All mine!

  Yeah, her wolf had a tendency to gloat at times. But she deserved to, didn’t she?

  “What about this one?” Kyle asked.

  “Perfect,” Stef called, eyes still on her mate.

  She’d come so close to a horribly different life—a forced mating with a man made as much of pure evil as flesh and blood. She’d escaped that fate by a hair and won her mate instead. Kyle, her childhood buddy turned knight in shining armor. Even as kids, they’d had a special connection. As adults—partners, lovers—well, wow. She wasn’t alone any more. She’d never have to be alone again.

  The baby cooed as the wind shook more snow out of heavy boughs. Perfect. Life was perfect.

  Kyle paced around the tree and gave a firm nod. “This one?”

  “Looks good. Our first Christmas tree in the new house. Our new home.”

  They locked eyes, traded grins.

  “You going to get started sometime today, lady?” He winked after a minute ticked by.

  “All right, all right.”

  She unclipped the ax cover while Kyle lowered the backpack a safe distance away and lifted the baby out. “You want to see Mommy heft an ax, Baby K?”

  Stef hid a smile. They’d named their son Keith after her father, but for now, the little guy was going by Baby K. No need to hurry him into anyone else’s footsteps but his own, right?

  She shifted from one foot to another in the calf-deep snow, considering where to start. If she should start at all, because didn’t the planet need every tree it could get?

  Kyle shook his head at her. “Stef, how many trees did you plant this year?”

  “A hundred and thirty-two. Um, give or take,” she added quickly.

  “I mean, how many did you plant with work?”

  Her job focused on renewable energy, which mostly meant solar panels. But another part of her brief at the environmental consultancy was coordinating tree plantings by community volunteers.

  “Um, a couple of thousand?” She traced a line in the snow with one foot.

  “See? We can afford to chop down this tree,” Kyle concluded. “This tree is ours.”

  He said it so fiercely, the memories came barreling back. The Christmas sounds that used to come from Kyle’s childhood home, next to hers, weren’t exactly carols. More like shouts, drunken threats, and the shattering of thrown bottles. The ones his stepfather had emptied one hard slug at a time.

  When she blinked the past away, Kyle was hugging the baby a little tighter, and his eyes were far away.

  She aimed the ax and let it fly at the trunk. Yes, this tree was theirs. And it was more than a tree. It was peace. It was promise. It was everything her mate deserved, and everything he’d never have to suffer through again.

  Wood splinters flew; avalanches of snow dropped from the branches. Her mate deserved a merry Christmas, and she was going to provide it. A Christmas that wasn’t about tinsel or flashing lights or presents stacked under a tree. It was about peace. Joy. Family.

  “Whoa,” Kyle murmured. “You chopping down a giant sequoia, there, mamma wolf?”

  For you, I would.

  She slowed down a little, then stopped to wipe the sweat on her brow.

  “Here,” he said in a softer voice. “Daddy’s turn.”

  He took the ax while she took the baby and snuggled with him, cheek-to-cheek. Kyle’s scent was all over the child; he’d been snuggling, too. The baby cooed and waved his hands.

  She laughed. “He looks like a boxer with these oversized mittens.”

  “Gotta keep my baby warm,” Kyle called.

  He took off his jacket and turned the ax over in his hands, then aimed it at the trunk.

  Whack! He drew the ax back slowly and swung it again. Whack!

  A single one of his blows bit twice as deep as two or three of hers.

  Not fair, her feminist side sighed.

  Shh, her wolf said. I’m admiring my mate.

  She watched him pull back, aim, and swing again, imagining the layers of muscle rippling under his clothes. The bunched curves of his arms, the sinewy layers wrapped around his torso. The long, triangular slabs running down both sides of his back.

  The baby bucked and gurgled in her arms, and she cooed back.

  Kyle stopped one blow short of toppling the tree, plucked off his cap, and ran a hand through his spiky hair. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths.

  “You’re not going soft, are you, Williams?” she teased.

  Right, her wolf scoffed. Likesoftdescribes any part of my mate.

  “Watch it, Alt,” he shot back.

  One final swing and the tree toppled, sending up a cloud of snow that settled back over the pine. Kyle gave the ax blade a satisfied swipe with the tail of his flannel shirt, replaced the cover, and waved a hand.

  “One Christmas tree at your disposal, ma’am.”

  She stepped over and pulled him into a three-way hug. He kissed the baby first, then her. When he started to pull back, she went with him, refusing to let go of that kiss.

  Mine. Mate, her wolf hummed inside.

  Kyle smiled and leaned closer, giving her free license to go deeper. Her tongue swept the seam of his lips, then the perfect edge of his teeth, and she crushed herself closer to his chest. Cooed a little, too, rapidly losing track of the outside world.

  “Ba!” the baby sang, batting his tiny fists.

  She drew back an inch and gave her mate a goofy smile. “Oops.”

  “Mommy has a one-track mind,” he told the baby, rubbing the tiny hands.

  “Doesn’t sound like you’re complaining,” Stef said. “And how can I help it, being mated to the hottest shifter cop in the state?”

  He laughed. “The only shifter cop in the state.”

  She kissed him. “One is plenty for me. One is perfect.”

  He stood a little straighter under her hug.

  “Right, Baby K?” She looked to the baby for approval. His sky blue eyes were wide and serious. So like Kyle’s, she had to chuckle. “You know, when we named you after my father,” she told the baby, “I had this delusion that you might end up looking a little like him. But you look just like your dad, and that’s even better.”

  The baby gurgled and grabbed Kyle’s ear. Well, he tried to, but the mittens interfered. Stef maneuvered him back into the carrier and swung it onto her shoulders. When she straightened, she stopped short, because Kyle hadn’t budged. He studied the baby with a deeply furrowed brow.

  “What?” she asked. Why was he all serious again?

  “Not sure I want him to be like me,” Kyle mumbled as the past caught up with him again. As if maybe terrible parenting could rub off on a man with a heart of gold.

  She covered his cheeks with both hands and circled his skin with her thumbs. “Hey. You’re a great dad. Always have been, always will be.”

  The shadows of the past still darkened his eyes, so she said it again. “You’re a great dad. Repeat after me. I am a great dad.”

  “You’re a great mom,” he said in a scratchy voice.

  “Nuh-uh, Williams. Repeat after me.”

  “You are a great mom.”

  Her smile stretched so wide, it hurt. “Now, repeat after me. I…” She kissed his cheek.

  “I…” he echoed, closing his eyes.

  “Am…” She nosed his ear, and a smile curled on his lips.

  “Am…”

  “A great…” She drew her cheek slo
wly over the rough surface of his chin.

  “A great…”

  “A great dad,” she finished, hovering right over his lips.

  He mouthed the words, then covered her lips, so there’d be no more of that game. Just a kiss that had the potential to stretch into tomorrow, it was that good. That right. His hands cupped her ribs, kissing until his chest rose and fell in time with hers.

  The wind hummed through the trees, buffeting their cocoon with cold mountain air.

  “Time to go,” she sighed, finally drawing away.

  “Not just time to go.” He shook his head. “Time to go home.” He kissed her knuckles.

  Home. She nodded at her mate. God, she liked the sound of that.

  “Right,” she said, getting herself back in gear. “Are you carrying the baby or the tree?”

  “Tree,” he said firmly.

  She grabbed the ax. “Ready, Baby K?”

  She took the kick in her back as a yes. “Then let’s get going. Christmas party’s at six.”

  Kyle hefted the tree onto one shoulder and nodded downhill. “After you, ma’am. After you.”

  Chapter Four

  For the tenth time in an hour, Lana wondered where her mate was. The Christmas party started in two hours, and they had to get moving. There were presents to wrap, a woodpile to be stocked up, and a million last-minute arrangements to make in the dining hall. So where was he?

  She’d long since wrapped the kids’ presents, along with one for Ty: a fancy new hand razor for a little one-on-one fun the next time they got a chance. Well, if they ever got the chance. Sometimes it seemed as if they went from work to the kids and straight back to work again. Which was great in its own way, but some private time with her mate would be nice, too.

  Boots clomped in the doorway and a wave of cold air rolled into the warm kitchen.

  “We’re home!” Ty called down the hall.

  “Mommy! Mommy!” Tana squeaked.

  And just like that, the nagging little worries disappeared and warmth filled her chest. “Hi, guys,” she called.

  She stepped around the corner to meet them and laughed outright at the sight of Ty, towering in the hallway. He held sixteen-month-old Tyler in one arm and unzipped his jacket with the other, holding one side of the collar in his teeth. Their daughter Tana hopped on one foot, pulling at her boot. Their cheeks were red from crisp winter air, their joy palpable.

  “Mommy! Mommy!” Tana jumped up and down. “We made a snowman!”

  Lana smoothed her daughter’s brown-black hair, exactly the color of Ty’s.

  “Wow! A snowman?”

  Tana nodded earnestly.

  “You must have had to go pretty far to collect enough snow.”

  They’d had a dusting overnight, but it would take a determined crew to find enough for a snowman. Of course, Tana was nothing if not determined. Tenacious. Persistent, just like her dad.

  Lana crooked an eyebrow at her mate, who held his fingers an inch apart and winked.

  World’s smallest snowman.

  “It was this big!” Tana cried, holding her arms wide.

  “Wow! Did you give him a nose?” She pressed Tana’s nose like a button.

  Her daughter giggled. “We gave him a nose and eyes and a broom and…” She babbled on, listing the dozen fabulous features they’d endowed their snowman with.

  “All that on one snowman? Wow.” Lana whistled. She took Tyler from her mate, gave him a big kiss, and poked his belly, eliciting a giggle. “Did you build a snowman, too?”

  “Snowman!” Tyler cried, wiggling free. He made a wobbly beeline for the kitchen, calling, “Juice! Juice!”

  “Whoa!” Ty protested when she turned after their son. “Papa wolf gets a kiss first.”

  “I can kiss you, Daddy,” Tana offered.

  “Thanks, pumpkin. Then I’ll get two kisses.”

  He scooped Tana up with one arm and reeled Lana in with the other, and her mind went blissfully blank the minute their lips touched. He crushed her to his side as if he’d been away a year and not an hour, and she melted right in. Squeezed right up against him until two felt more like one. The warmth in her chest became a flickering flame, tickling her body from the inside out. Their lips slid sideways, up and down, and she stretched higher, aching for more. The pull of his arm behind her back grew fiercer, the jut against her hips harder, and—

  “Juice! Juice!”

  She slumped and sighed into Ty’s shoulder. Just when things were getting interesting…

  He kissed her cheek and tucked her hair behind her ear. Then we’ll make it interesting all over again.

  Little Tyler was tugging her hand now, and she pulled away reluctantly. “Is that a promise?”

  He nodded as they locked eyes. I promise.

  She dug in her heels a moment longer and lost herself in his dark eyes.

  “What?” He cocked his head.

  She sighed. “Is it a crime to feel this good?”

  Ty smiled, wide and bright, the way he only did when no one else could see. “Maybe it should be.” He nodded. “Maybe it should be.”

  “Hot chocolate! Can we have hot chocolate, Mommy?”

  God, where did her daughter get such energy?

  “Sure. Hot chocolate for everyone.”

  As soon as she stepped into the kitchen, her eye fell on the clock, and a long job list unrolled in her mind. Four o’clock already?

  “Ty, after the hot chocolate, we need to bring more wood to the dining hall.”

  Work, work, work, her wolf sighed.

  He kissed the top of her head and snagged a cookie off the counter. “Steve’s on it.”

  She brightened. “Great! Then there are the last boxes of records to move into the archives…” She’d finally worked her way through a century of deeds and documents, but as long as the paperwork cluttered her office, she couldn’t quite get them off her mind.

  “Done,” Ty mumbled through a mouthful of crumbs. “I got Cody to do it.”

  She did a double take. Wow. Ty, trusting others to get a job done?

  “What about the…” Her eyes signaled toward the kids. Tina had suggested stringing Christmas lights over the ranch gateway as a holiday surprise, and Ty had agreed to—

  “Axel’s already done it.”

  “What about—”

  “Done, done, and done.” He grinned and stood a little taller. “I delegated.” He drew out the word, syllable by syllable.

  “Seriously?”

  He laughed. “Seriously.”

  “Wow. So what are we going to do for the next two hours?”

  He slung an arm around her shoulders and steered her to the living room. “Sit. Relax.” He pressed her down into the love seat.

  “But the hot choc—”

  “I got it.”

  And he did. Lana spent the next hour snuggled up with her mate on the couch, doing nothing but sipping hot chocolate and smiling at the kids’ antics until her cheeks started to tire. They built a fort out of the second couch, dragged in every pillow in the house, and played battle games and pony games and games without names that were equally fun. They even got Ty to lie down on his back to play airplane.

  “Ready for takeoff?” he asked Tyler, who nodded wildly.

  “Takeoff!” Ty pushed up, sending the child airborne for a split second, then caught him again.

  Happy squeals filled the room.

  “Turbulence, hang on!”

  “Me next, me next!” Tana cried, bouncing nearby.

  Barrel rolls were next, then loop-de-loops, and a whole slew of other maneuvers until Lana didn’t know who was more worn out, the kids or her mate.

  “Right, time to come in for a landing,” Ty announced.

  “Then the planes have to go to their hangars to refuel,” she announced.

  The kids didn’t even protest when Ty flew each to their rooms for a nap.

  “I’ll be right back,” he winked.

  Peace settled over the house and L
ana moved to the dining room table to wrap the last of the presents. It was a soul-warming peace that worked its way into her bones as she cut tissue paper, snipped ribbons, and tied bows into place. A photo album for Aunt Jean, a matching one for her grandmother. She rocked a little on the revolving stool, shifting her weight from foot to foot. A book for Heather, a CD for Cody…

  She was wrapping the present for Ty’s father when two thick arms slid around her waist. Soft, full lips kissed her ear and a deep voice hummed, “Mmm. Nice.”

  “The picture or the kiss?”

  Ty snorted. He did lean over her shoulder to study the framed photo of the whole family, though. All four Hawthorne siblings were in it, together with their mates: Lana with Ty on the left, and Heather with Cody next to them. Then came Carly, with her arms crossed defiantly across her chest—No mate here, her posture declared, and never will be!—and a smiling Aunt Jean. Tina and Rick stood close enough together to have squeezed every atom of separation away. The kids were grinning in the front row or in their parents’ arms, showing gap-toothed smiles. It had taken ages to gather everyone together for that picture at Thanksgiving, and even longer to get the photo just right. The guys had been worse than the kids, pulling at their collars and insisting the first photo was good enough. But they finally got just the right shot, with everyone’s eyes open and everyone smiling bright.

  Lana ran a finger along the edge of the picture frame. “You think your dad will like it?”

  “He’d better,” Ty growled.

  Lana cupped his cheek and pulled it against hers. “Two days down, two to go.” Ty’s father was only home for a short visit, but the countdown to his departure had already begun.

  “Maybe we can get Tina to distract him with something tomorrow. Make sure he stays off my back,” Ty murmured.

  “Now, Ty. Tina’s got a mate of her own to spend time with.”

  “Carly, then.”

  “Ty!”

  “I spent all day yesterday listening to him grumble about North Ridge pack.”

  She reached for her mate’s right ear and rubbed tiny circles into the lobe. “Don’t be a grinch, my love. Think of happy things.”

  A goofy grin spread across his face, and she knew he was picturing the kids.

  “Want to know what my grandmother and Aunt Jean promised us for Christmas?”