Christmas in Quincy (The Edens)

by Devney Perry

  Cleo laughed. “You are rather bossy.”

  “Occupational hazard.”

  She picked up the purse she’d brought to dinner off the seat of the empty chair to her left, taking out a small wrapped box. “I got you something.”

  My heart dropped. Fuck. I should have bought her that spatula. “I, uh, didn’t get you anything.”

  “Oh, this is nothing. I don’t expect or need gifts this year. But I saw this and couldn’t pass it up.” She slid the box across the table.

  I took it and gently unwrapped the red and gold foil paper to reveal a deck of cards. The box was a hand-painted mountain scene with the words Welcome to Quincy written on the face.

  “I noticed you collect them.”

  I managed a nod. I held the box, speechless. How had she known? I collected decks of cards from all the places I’d traveled. If I had seen these myself, I would have bought them.

  “I saw those in the airport yesterday when I flew in and thought they were beautiful,” she said. “If you don’t like them, you won’t hurt my feelings.”

  Wait. She’d bought them even before I’d shown up here. Why? Why would she buy me something when she hated me?

  Maybe . . .

  I shoved that thought aside and cleared the lump in my throat. Then I looked up, meeting her shining hazel eyes. “They’re great. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She beamed. “I hope you like them.”

  “I do. Very much.”

  “Why cards?” she asked. “I think it’s a cool thing to collect. Better than shot glasses or refrigerator magnets. But I always wondered why.”

  “My mom. She taught me to play different games when I was little, but I was rough on cards. Whenever I had money, I’d buy a new deck and beg her to teach me a new game.”

  “How many decks do you have?”

  “No idea. But they fill up three drawers in my kitchen.”

  “That’s a lot of cards.”

  And this would be my favorite deck.

  Our waitress appeared beside our table, her hands clasped around a black folio that likely held our bill. “How was dessert? Can I get either of you anything else?”

  “No, I think we’re done,” Cleo said. “Thank you. May I put this on my room?”

  “Yes, of course.” The woman handed her the check. “And you’re welcome to take your wine if you’d like to retire to your room.”

  “Cleo—” I started to protest, reaching for the check, but she silenced me with a scowl. Then she signed her name on the receipt and added a tip.

  “Thank you for dinner,” I said after the waitress cleared our plates.

  “Thank you for eating with me.” Cleo stood from her chair. “Will you teach me a card game?”

  “Sure.”

  She took her wineglass and the bottle, then led the way from the dining room. But instead of veering for the elevator, she returned to the couch in front of the fireplace where she’d been reading earlier.

  “Here?”

  “Or would you rather play in the room?”

  “No, this is fine.” I dropped to the couch and lifted the lid on my cards. The less time we spent in that bedroom, the better. “Do you know how to play gin rummy?”

  “No.”

  I took the cards from the box and shuffled them. Then taught her to play gin. An hour later, she’d finished the bottle of wine and hadn’t won a single hand. But you’d never know by the smile on her face or the twinkle in her eyes.

  “Gin.” I discarded my last card.

  “What? Already?” She giggled and tossed her cards on the pile. “Okay, I give up. Let’s play a different game. How about war? Or go fish? I might stand a chance if we play kid games.”

  “I learned to play gin when I was six.”

  “Show-off.” She rolled her eyes, then lifted her hand to her mouth to cover a yawn.

  “We should go up.”

  “No, not yet.” She relaxed into the thick leather of the couch, tipping her eyes up at the stone chimney and taking in the wreath hung above the fire. “This is peaceful. I like it here.”

  “Me too.” I collected the cards, putting them back in the box, then mirrored her position.

  “Thank you, Austin.” She turned her cheek to look at me. Somehow, while I’d put the cards away and she’d been sitting there, we’d gotten closer. Or maybe we’d inched closer as we’d played, using the center cushion of the couch as our card table.

  Whenever it had happened, our shoulders were nearly touching. A lock of her hair had slid over the leather of the couch and brushed against the cotton of my shirt.

  “For what?”

  “For this break. I know it was out of character for me, but sometimes I just want to say screw it. Just do what makes my heart happy. Does that make any sense?”

  “Yeah.” My eyes roamed her face. Without thinking, I brought my hand up to cup her cheek.

  Her breath hitched.

  Tingles raced across my skin.

  What the fuck was I doing?

  Making my heart happy.

  I leaned in closer.

  And kissed Cleo.

  Chapter 8

  Cleo

  Someone was pounding a drum in the room next door. A really loud, extremely painful drum.

  No. Wait. That was just my pulse.

  “Fuck you, wine,” I groaned into the pillow, squeezing my eyes shut. I hadn’t even realized how much I’d had to drink last night at dinner with Austin—

  I shot out of bed.

  Oh. My. God.

  Austin had kissed me. Austin Myles had kissed me.

  He’d kissed me, right? Or had I dreamed it in my wine-hazed state?

  My hand flew to my lips. They felt the same as usual. Maybe a little dry since I hadn’t put on my nightly sleep balm. I traced the edges, searching for any sign that I’d kissed the handsomest, sexiest man I’d ever seen, but there was nothing.

  No chafed skin. No puffy swell.

  But I hadn’t imagined it. I hadn’t dreamed it. I clearly remembered sitting on the couch in my happy buzz when Austin dropped his lips to mine.

  After that, things got fuzzy. Reality had been scraped away by the stubble on his sculpted jaw.

  The kiss hadn’t lasted long. There’d been no tongue or playful nips. Just Austin’s soft lips on mine and the all-consuming desire for . . . more.

  Oh my God. Austin had kissed me.

  Why? Didn’t he hate me? Wasn’t I this major annoyance in his life?

  And where was he?

  I turned in a circle, my head spinning. The room was empty except for me. I was alone but hadn’t come to the room alone. Austin had been with me. After the card game and kiss, he’d lain on the bed beside me and I’d smiled at him until I’d fallen asleep.

  The pillow on his side of the bed had a noticeable dent. The quilt was rumpled because he’d slept on top of the covers while I’d burrowed in deep.

  At least he hadn’t suffered on the floor.

  He’d slept beside me and he’d kissed me. Or had I kissed him? Oh, shit. My stomach turned. Did I have this entire thing turned around?

  “I’m so stupid.” I slapped a hand to my aching forehead.

  Austin had no reason to kiss me. None. But I’d been tipsy on wine, something that always made me flirty and forward, and I’d kissed him. Then he’d brought me upstairs and put me to bed.

  The man was probably back in California by now.

  I tipped my head to the ceiling and groaned. “Montana was a horrible idea.”

  Mortification oozed from my bones, making me cringe. I trudged to the bathroom and took in my disheveled state. My hair was everywhere and the makeup I hadn’t washed off last night was smeared on my face.

  At least Austin wasn’t here to see the goddamn wreck I’d become. I was the farthest thing from desirable. Hell, I didn’t even want to be me at the moment. So I brushed my teeth, turned on the shower and got to work collecting the shreds of my dignity.

 
; So what if I’d kissed him? I could explain that it was a mistake and apologize. I could definitely pretend it had never happened. Once we got back to LA, I fully expected never to see Austin again, but whatever. He didn’t like me anyway and maybe I’d have an easier time letting go of this crush if Austin became a distant memory.

  My shower was far from relaxing with the way my hands shook. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, but I refused to cry so I rinsed the conditioner from my hair and got out. Melodrama wasn’t going to make this easier.

  I dried off and wrapped a towel around my body, then dragged a brush through my hair before twisting it up in a knot. When I emerged from the bathroom, I expected to find my room empty.

  But there he was. All six foot three inches of glorious man holding two white ceramic mugs. I loved The Eloise Inn, but they really needed to look into in-room coffee.

  “Thought you might want this.” He held out a mug.

  What I wanted was to roll back time. Well, not completely. I didn’t want to forget kissing Austin.

  “Thank you.” I took the mug as his gaze tracked down my body. My very naked body covered only with a white bath sheet.

  The right thing to do would be to get dressed and talk about this far, far away from the bed that seemed to get bigger every time the two of us were in this room together. Instead, I dropped my chin and swallowed the lump in my throat.

  “About last night—” I said at the same time Austin said, “I’m sorry I kissed you.”

  I blinked and my eyes whipped up to his. “What?”

  “I’m sorry I kissed you.” He didn’t look sorry. There was a small smile on his mouth, and Austin never smiled at me. Never. Except he had last night, like he was right now. Those brown eyes were darker than normal. He didn’t seem at all uncomfortable or upset to find me freshly showered and wearing a towel.

  “You kissed me? I thought I kissed you.”

  “No.”

  “But I kissed you back.”

  “You did.”

  What the hell was happening? I was never drinking again. Clearly, some women were born capable of rational thought after two nights of drinking. Not me.

  Austin stood across from me, his eyes flickering between my eyes and my mouth.

  “Why?” I whispered. “Why did you kiss me?”

  He turned and set his mug on the nightstand, then crossed the room. He didn’t touch me but he stood close, only inches away. “You said yesterday that I didn’t like you. But that’s not true. I like you. I’ve always liked you. And I guess, I just . . . I let my guard down. I’m sorry.”

  My jaw dropped. “Sorry?”

  “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

  “Uncomfortable?” I sounded like a parrot. A hungover parrot.

  He nodded. “It was unprofessional.”

  “Unprofessional?”

  “You’re my client, Cleo.”

  “But you wanted to kiss me.”

  “Yes.”

  Austin had wanted to kiss me. Well, what the actual fuck did I do with this information?

  My head was seconds away from exploding, like the time I’d dropped a sack of flour in the bakery and the entire thing had gone up in a white puff.

  Okay, so I hadn’t made a move on Austin. He’d been the one to initiate the kiss. My brain began to reengage and details from last night cleared through the wine fog. Austin had touched my face. He’d cupped my cheek. He’d been the one to lean in.

  And here he was, apologizing for it. Regretting it.

  “Let’s forget it ever happened.” I set my coffee mug on the TV stand and bent to open a drawer for some clothes. I balled up a pair of panties in my fist and hid my bra in a tee, then took out a pair of jeans.

  “Cleo . . .” Austin sighed as I stood, my clothes clutched to my chest.

  “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Please, Austin. Don’t. I feel embarrassed enough as it is. I don’t want you to feel guilty.” I gave him a small smile, ready to run and spend Christmas Day locked in the hotel bathroom. But he stopped me with his next sentence.

  “I don’t feel guilty.”

  “Huh?” My mouth fell open. “You don’t?”

  “I will never feel guilty for kissing you.”

  I blinked. If I was confused, at least the tortured look on his face made me feel like I wasn’t the only one struggling to make sense of this. “I don’t understand.”

  “Me neither,” he muttered, running a hand over his jaw. “Look, I like you.”

  “You said that already.”

  Austin stepped forward, closing the distance I’d put between us. “I know I’m not your favorite person and that I’ve been an asshole at times—most of the time—but I can’t pretend anymore. I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you. Truly sorry. You didn’t deserve it. I’m not proud of it.”

  Poof. My brain went poof.

  “I like you, Cleo.”

  This had to be a dream because if Austin liked me liked me, I’d melt into a puddle. Good thing I was wearing this towel to sop it up.

  “I’m sorry I kissed you.” He lifted his hand and cupped my cheek, like he had last night. The zing of electricity stole the air in my lungs and I leaned into his touch.

  “I’m not,” I whispered.

  “No?”

  “No.” I shook my head.

  “Do you hate me?”

  “Some days,” I admitted.

  That earned me a full-blown smile, straight white teeth and all. Puddle status was imminent.

  “What is happening?”

  Austin’s gaze dropped to my lips. “I’m kissing you again.”

  “Oh,” I breathed as his whisper caressed my cheek.

  Then his mouth was there, hovering over mine before he dropped a kiss to the corner of my mouth. Then another. And another. He peppered my lips with kisses until I leaned in and the clothes in my arms dropped to my bare feet.

  Austin’s arms wrapped around me and he crushed me to his body. The gentle kisses were gone and he smashed his lips on mine. I opened, letting his tongue sweep inside. His taste exploded on my tongue and I moaned, wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders to hold him tight.

  Holy fucking shit, Austin was kissing me. And my God, he was good at it. My legs trembled and I tightened my grip on his shoulders before my knees could give way.

  Austin tore his mouth away and dropped his forehead to mine. “What do you want?”

  “You. I’ve always wanted you.”

  He leaned back, his eyebrows coming together. “You have?”

  “Come on.” I giggled. “You have to know that I’ve had a crush on you since the day my father brought you into Crumbs.”

  “You had a smudge of chocolate on your cheek and your fingers were purple.”

  I’d been making blueberry pastries that day and the moment Austin had walked through the door, I’d chastised myself for not wearing gloves. I’d been so embarrassed that he’d seen me with purple fingers. “You were so gruff. You said five words to me.”

  Hi. Good to meet you.

  “One look at you and I was tongue-tied. I wished I had come to the bakery before taking the job with your dad. I wished I had met you first.”

  I sighed, my heart squeezing. “If my father finds out, you’ll lose your job.”

  “I will.”

  I unwound my arms from his neck and expected him to put me down, but his hold only got stronger and he lifted me, my toes dangling above the carpet. His eyes searched mine, waiting for me to decide.

  Because that look of confidence, of complete surety, told me that Austin had already decided. He didn’t care if he lost this job.

  If all we had was this trip, then I didn’t want to think about what happened tomorrow. I wanted to be with Austin. Just this once.

  “Kiss me anyway.”

  He didn’t have to be told twice. Austin crushed his lips to mine and the heat in the room spiked. In only a towel, I was burning up
and so desperate to feel his skin against mine, I yanked and tugged at his shirt.

  His tongue plundered my mouth, leaving no corner untouched. His fingertips dug into the curves of my hips as he turned us and walked us to the bed.

  “Damn, Cleo, how I want you.” He tore his mouth from mine and dropped it to my neck, trailing wet kisses along my skin.

  “Yes.” My fingers dove into his dark hair and I threaded them through the strands.

  He growled against my skin, then dropped me to the edge of the bed.

  I stared up as he reached behind his head and yanked off his shirt. Oh my abs. Was this the reason he didn’t eat baked goods? Because a six-pack was a good one. I’d forgive him for every missed bite of my food if he just let me run my hands over his washboard stomach.

  My mouth watered and I reached for the button of his jeans only to have my hand swatted away.

  “Not yet.” He dropped his gaze to the front of my towel.

  I lifted a hand to undo the tuck in the terry cloth only to have my hand swatted again. “What was that for?”

  “It’s rude to unwrap someone else’s gift.”

  And there it was—the puddle. It pooled between my legs.

  Austin took my hand and pulled me to my feet. His finger trailed across the bare line of my shoulder, causing a shiver to race down my spine. That same finger skimmed my collarbone before dipping into the hollow of my throat. He moved slowly, taking each inch deliberately, until I was panting beneath his touch.

  “Austin.”

  His focus was entirely on his finger as it finally reached the line of the towel. Then with a flick of his wrist, it was gone, forgotten at my feet.

  I held my gaze on the hard plain of his chest, taking in the dusting of hair on his pecs. I studied the contoured muscles of his arms and how the ropes of his biceps and triceps wrapped around one another, all while he studied my body with the same intensity.

  His eyes traced every curve of my breasts and the swell of my hips. They dropped to the apex of my thighs. When I dared look up, there was so much appreciation and lust in his gaze, it stole my breath.

  Austin lifted a hand to cup one of my breasts as he shuffled closer, the heat from his chest hitting mine. He rolled my nipple between his fingers, and his eyes never stopped wandering, leaving tingling trails on my skin.