I chuckled and pulled her into a hug, my lips by her ear. “Forgive me for being an ass? I’ll have the tree gone in five minutes,” I promised, leaning back.
Her eyes widened and she fisted my shirt in her hand. “You’ll do no such thing! I love my little tree. I named him Simba.”
“Simba?” I asked, confused. “Like the Lion King?”
She nodded once. “Yes.”
“Why?” My arms held her loosely around her waist and I reveled in the feel of her against me. Her belly rested against my groin and it was taking all my concentration not to rub against her and relieve the pressure building there.
“Because he’s little, but he’s proud,” she explained. “Here’s the thing, Hayes. I know you were raised with a big family, and had lots of traditions for the holidays. I’m sure you went caroling, sang in school plays, sat on Santa’s lap, and opened gifts on Christmas morning. You have those memories of fondness I will never have.”
“I take it you never celebrated with a menorah?”
She made the cutest sound I’d ever heard. It was a snort covered by laughter. I had the gut feeling if she relaxed, she’d have us both in stitches. She didn’t relax, though. She was too lost in the past again. “They don’t usually let you have lit candles in the places where I lived as a kid. Besides, I think you have to go to temple at least once in your life to consider yourself Jewish. Other than the Dreidel Song, I have no clue what you’re supposed to do for Hanukkah.”
I lowered my lips to her forehead and kissed her, leaving them there for a moment of acceptance and tenderness I sensed she needed. “I’m sorry you grew up that way. It must have been hard to be so different from the other kids.”
Her eyes immediately fell to the floor and she lowered herself to the couch again. “In the beginning, I was like all the other kids. It wasn’t until I was eight that things fell apart and I became uniquely unlike any other kid in school. When I went to school, that is. We moved around a lot.”
I grasped her hand and held it tightly. “What happened when you were eight?” I asked, waiting with my breath held tight in my chest.
She stood up like a shot and locked her eyes on the box over my shoulder. “Did you really find ornaments in the equipment shed?” She was far too cheery suddenly and I sensed I’d lost my window of opportunity to get her to talk. “I never thought to look.”
She grabbed a handful of popcorn on her way past the bowl and shoved it in her mouth, a clear sign she was done talking about it. That was fine. I already knew the answers to her past life, but I would make her tell me them anyway. If she didn’t verbalize what she went through, she would never move past it. I was well versed in verbalizing traumatic events, all from firsthand experiences. The difference was, my family had the means to get me counseling, and hers didn’t.
I stood and stalked toward her, the sweetness of her ass in a pair of black leggings almost too much for me to bear. “Where do you think I got these great lights?” I asked, motioning at the tree. “I’m sure we can find all kinds of stuff that will work as ornaments,” I said enthusiastically as she started unloading the bin, one item at a time.
If she thought I didn’t notice how she held her shoulders stiff and straight, and how she’d tucked Justice inside her sweatshirt again, she’d be wrong. I noticed every little thing about her. I didn’t have a choice, for reasons I didn’t yet understand. She was stressed and on edge like nothing I’d ever seen before.
Kid gloves, Hayes. If you want this woman to come to you willingly, you better put on kid gloves. You’ve pushed her far enough tonight. Let her relax into the joy of the season.
I wiped my hands on my pants and rolled my shoulders before I dug in to help unload the decorations. I smiled, laughed, and joked with her about the jingle bells and tacky Santa Claus, but I was in a war with myself over why I cared if she was relaxed and happy. Was it because I wanted to be dick down in her, as Caleb put it?
All it took was one glance at her gorgeous, animated, flushed face to tell me it went deeper than that.
Way deeper.
CHAPTER TWELVE
MERCY
Breathe, Mercy, I ordered when I walked back to the almost empty bin of Christmas decorations. I stood in front of it and took another deep breath, praying one of them eventually relieved the tension I’d been carrying since he asked me about my childhood.
It’s been twenty years, why do you still get defensive about it like it was yesterday? I asked myself. It’s not like you’re ever going to see him again. Who cares if he judges you?
The problem was, I did care, a lot. I cared what he thought and while it wasn’t rational, I couldn’t change how I felt about it. I rummaged through the bottom of the bin to see what else I could find. We’d found a string of garland that fit perfectly on the mantle. Obviously, Mrs. Langston used to decorate the cabin for Christmas, and left the decorations here for me. Being that I don’t decorate, it never crossed my mind to look for them. The tree had red and silver balls hanging on it, along with angels and stockings spaced perfectly around the branches.
“It’s so quiet in here,” Hayes sighed, his hands on his hips. “We need some Christmas music. Adds to the ambiance,” he explained, winking.
I held my hand out. “I don’t listen to music, sorry.”
He hit himself in the forehead with the palm of his hand. “Duh, you’re Jewish. Okay, how about any music in general? What do you have? The Boss? The Oldies?”
I spun around to face him. “You misunderstand me, Hayes. I don’t listen to music. Any music. At all.”
He tipped his head to the left. “Why not?”
My eyes traveled to the fire and I stuck my hand in my pocket. “I… uh … I always have to be able to hear when someone needs me from the front of the store,” I answered vaguely. “I have to listen for my guests.”
He took a step toward me and lowered his brow. “Your eyes tell me you’re lying,” he whispered, his hand coming up to capture my cheek. “What’s the real reason, Mercy?”
I pushed his hand down and away from my face. “Believe what you want.” I walked away from him and picked up my wine glass, slugging back what was left in it. “I’ll be right back,” I said quickly, darting into the kitchen and pulling down the bottle of Baileys and the hot cocoa mix. While the milk was heating, I grabbed the whipped cream from the fridge and mugs from the cupboard. I was going to need a hefty dose of liquid courage if I was going to get through tonight with my nerves intact. “Who are you kidding, Mercy, your nerves are already shot,” I mumbled.
I stirred in the hot cocoa and poured a shot of Baileys in his, and two in mine. The whipped cream went on in a satisfying spiral of beauty and I took a moment to appreciate the joy of whipped cream. It was a simple thing, but sometimes the simple things bring us the most joy. I loaded the two mugs on my wooden tray and carried it into the living room.
He stood by the fire, his back turned to me, and his shoulders rolled forward as if he was giving himself a pep talk. His jeans were pulled tight across his mouthwatering ass and I took a few moments to appreciate the fine specimen he was. Considering I would never see it in the flesh, I had to take what I could get.
I set the tray down on the table by the chair, and turned straight into him. “Geez, you have to stop sneaking up on me,” I yelled, tapping him in the chest.
He grabbed my finger with catlike reflexes. “Or what, Mercy?” he asked, one brow in the air.
I swallowed and paused to keep myself from saying, or I might kill you, because that wasn’t the way to keep friends and influence people. “I won’t invite you back,” I said in a short staccato voice. “I made hot cocoa.”
“I love hot cocoa, thank you.” He accepted the mug I held out and took a sip, tinging his mustache white. “Oh, that’s good. What do you call it?”
I took a much longer sip of mine before I answered. “I call it a dirty snowman.”
He moaned low in his throat. “Mmm, I love it dirty.” H
e took another drink of the hot liquid and when he lowered the cup, I motioned at his lip.
“You have a little something on your face,” I teased, licking my own lip to show him where.
“How embarrassing. Here?” he asked, licking at the completely wrong spot with his tongue. “Here?”
I set my cup down and swiped it off his beard, before I seductively sucked the foam off my finger. “Got it.”
He grasped me around the waist and dragged me into him, then ran his tongue along the ridge of my upper lip. “You had a little something on your face,” he quipped, his beard nuzzling my cheek. “And you smell incredible.”
“So do you. Like woodsmoke, fresh air, and pine trees,” I moaned lightly, clearing my throat at the end to make it sound less needy. “We should finish the tree.”
“Sure, and our dirty snowmen,” he agreed, leaning in and stealing another kiss. He tasted as good as he smelled and I allowed him to take more than I should have been offering.
When the kiss ended, he turned toward the tree. “Simba is looking festive.” He held up his finger and lifted the tinfoil star I’d made from the bin. “But I think it’s time to hang this little guy.”
I threw my head back and laughed, my eyes taking in the tree. “That star just looks lame now. I think he’s perfect just the way he is. Let’s forget about the star.”
He tapped me on the shoulder and I turned to see him triumphantly holding up an angel with a candle in her hand. “What’s that?” I took it from him lovingly. She looked like an antique, and I had no doubt in my mind she was one.
He motioned at it. “It looks like a tree topper to me. I guess Mrs. Langston thought she better leave her. My guess is, her candle lights up once we connect her to the power.”
I handed her back to him. “Let’s do it,” I encouraged, sipping my hot cocoa while he placed her at the top and went behind the tree. Before I blinked, her candle flickered and then burned bright. “Wow,” I exhaled. “She’s gorgeous.”
He came out from behind the tree and stopped short, his gaze trained on me, eyes wide open. “Not nearly as gorgeous as you are right now,” he whispered, his voice deep, but tinged with awe. It might have also carried a heavy dose of sex.
“How would you know? You aren’t even looking at her.” I turned my gaze away from him and back to the tree.
“I don’t have to look at her to know. You are the most gorgeous thing in the room no matter where we are.”
I chuckled and shook my head. “You can butter me up all you’d like, Hayes. I’m not sleeping with you.”
“Tonight,” he finished. “You aren’t sleeping with me tonight. Tonight, we’re going to enjoy the Christmas tree. Let’s go lights out,” he ordered, pointing to the wall switch.
I shut them down and walked back to him, allowing him to put his arm around my shoulder. I noticed he’d hung the star I made at the front of the tree to reflect the light in all its tinfoil glory. I rested my head on his chest and sighed. “This is nothing like what I pictured when you suggested we cut down a tree this afternoon,” I assured him. “It’s almost spiritual.”
He turned and kissed my forehead, his lips warm against my chilled skin. “Right now, I love that for the first time in years I’m rediscovering the joy of Christmas. I have you to thank for that. Thank you, Mercy.”
He turned me to him and captured my face in his hands, his thumb roving under my eye and across my temple while he gazed down at me. “I’ve never met a woman like you before.”
His intensity was more than I could take. I knew what he wanted, and I wasn’t sure I could give it to him, so I would end it. I would send him away and never see him again. I raised my right arm and shook it, the sleeve falling down to reveal the missing limb, the scar jagged and red. “I would guess you don’t spend a lot of time with women like me.” I pushed away from him, the distance mandatory if I was going to do this without falling apart or falling into him. “I’m not right for you, Hayes. I wasn’t before and I’m certainly not now.” I left Justice up in the air like the Statue of Liberty.
His hand closed over the rounded bones and held it lightly, the sensation of having someone else touch it foreign to my brain. “I’m not talking about your arm, Mercy. I’m talking about everything that makes you, you. All of those experiences in your life, all of the emotions that you carry with you, and all of the pain you’ve experienced, have shaped who you are, not this,” he insisted, resting it on his chest. “Justice is nothing more than a battle scar to be proud of. We all have them, some are just more obvious than others.”
I cocked my head to the left. “Where are your battle scars? You’re the perfect male specimen.”
In the low light of the room it was hard to tell, but I thought he wore a sad smile behind the beard. “I’d tell you how far from perfect I am, but we’d be here all night. I’d rather spend my time stealing kisses and dancing in the dark.”
“I don’t hear any music. Hard to dance without music.”
He leaned down and for the first time in my life, my lips ached to be taken by a man. “Then we’ll just have to stick with the kissing part,” he whispered before he captured my lips and eased the ache, at least the ache of my lips.
His kisses made me ache in other places that weren’t as easily comforted, like my chest, which I always thought was hollow. His kisses told me there was something in there and by God it came alive when he made love to my lips. There was passion, but there was also tenderness, patience, and determination to take his time and wring every last ounce of pleasure from it.
He moaned, his lips falling away from mine so he could kiss his way down my neck, his breath tickling my skin and his beard rough against the tender skin over my collarbone. “The only thing I can say right now,” he whispered, his breathing ragged, “is mercy me.”
His words were like a time machine and the tunnel vision hit instantly. I was transported back in time to a place that wasn’t romantic or sexy. It was merciless, evil, chilling, and surreal. I pushed him away and stumbled backward, barely catching myself before I fell. “Go,” I said, my voice shaking. “Get out, please,” I begged.
I didn’t wait to see if he did, I just ran down the hallway to my room, slammed the door, and let out the petrified sob I’d been holding in. I covered my mouth with my hand, the only hand I had left, and tried to pretend I was okay. I lowered myself to the bed and rocked, begging the memories to recede again to the place where I forced them to stay.
Above all, I begged my mind and my heart to remember I didn’t need anyone else in my life.
Unfortunately, he made it blatantly obvious that I did.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HAYES
I ran my hand through my hair and turned in a circle through the snow. What the hell just happened in there? My phone chose that minute to ring and I yanked it out, hoping it was her. It wasn’t.
“What?” I answered rudely.
“What? What? I’ve been trying to reach you all day. Do you ever check your emails?” she asked, her tone telling me I should have checked my email.
“Hi, Ange,” I sighed. “Sorry, I’ve been away from my computer all day.”
“And your phone as well, apparently. Did you lose it at the bottom of the lake? Oh wait, that can’t be, because you’re talking on it!” she yelled.
I could picture her pacing around the floor of her office, or more likely my office, while she worked herself into a tizzy. “Did you call for a reason, Ange?” I swear I heard the moment she stopped moving for the first time all day.
“No, this is a social call, asshole. Of course I called for a reason,” she spat.
“No need to name call,” I said calmly, which would only serve to piss her off more and I knew it. “Tell me what the problem is.”
“We lost the contract! That’s the problem!”
“You don’t have to yell. Geez, you about blew my eardrum out. Calm down.”
“Calm down? You did not just tell me to calm d
own when I’ve spent the entire day trying to reach you, and fix this, at the same time!”
“Ange, calm down. Tell me what contract and why we lost it,” I ordered, shivering in the cold. I had grabbed my coat when I left the store, but with the snow coming down, it was quickly piling up on top of my head. I could go to the cabin, but I had every intention of going back to Mercy’s once I finished with Ange. That is if she’d ever finish her damn rant.
There was a pause and then a puff of air over the line. “Is this actually Hayes Rutherford the Fourth? Or did some country bumpkin answer his phone.”
I rolled my eyes to the sky to watch the snow fall down on me. “Ange, you know it’s me. Tell me what happened.”
“What happened is another firm came up with a design and pitched it to Mr. Lancaster. He decided we were taking too long and if we really wanted the contract, we’d have worked harder and faster to get him the design. We’re out, Hayes!”
I strode down the path a few more feet and stopped to stare out over the lake. “Okay. I’ll table the plans and be back on the twenty-sixth to reconvene.”
“Wait, what?” she asked, her voice going from full bore bitch mode to soft, surprised, and questioning. “Why aren’t you upset? Your father worked hard to get this contract, and you’ve been beating your head against the wall for two months designing a plan that included everything they wanted. You should be mad as hell right now.”
“I’m disappointed, but the truth is, I never believed we were the right fit for Mr. Lancaster’s needs. His project was too complicated. No matter what I did, I couldn’t fit all his demands into the package. It was impossible.”
“Then how did the other company do it, huh? Are you losing your edge, Hayes?”
I sucked in a deep breath of the frigid air. “Ange, it’s like this, okay? The other firm may have given him a design with everything he asked for, but once they take it to production, it will fail, and it will fail epically. I’m the one with eight years of education in designing buildings here, not you. I know when someone has their head in the clouds about a project. Mr. Lancaster isn’t even on the same planet when it comes to his. I just pray someone doesn’t get hurt or killed when the dust settles and he’s holding an empty bag with no building.”
The Secrets Between Us (Billionaire CEO Romance) Page 9
