by Quinn, Cari
Kids. She couldn’t help wanting them any more than she could help wanting an old-fashioned family Christmas like she’d had with her parents growing up. There had been cousins, and neighbors, and family friends. Plenty of noise and joy, laced with more than a little good-natured ribbing.
Like there was at the band house tonight. And they were including her, which was a miracle of its own.
“Yes, presents.” She took a deep breath. “We’re probably missing the gag gifts.”
He led her up the hall to the living room, his arm clamped firmly around her shoulders. She didn’t think she could dislodge his hold on her with a wrecking ball. “I didn’t do any gag gifts. Mine are all fucking awesome.”
She smirked as they took their seats at the edge of the circle the band had made around the teetering tower of gifts in front of the fireplace. With Nick, awesome could mean literally anything from rotgut to a jumbo box of condoms.
“About fuckin’ time,” Simon said, glancing down at the baby still affixed to his chest. “I mean, frakking,” he amended as Jazz loudly cleared her throat.
“We were cleaning up, since you heathens all abandoned the scene of the crime.” Nick leaned toward the fireplace and started feeling around behind a lopsided miniature plastic Christmas tree, a pale imitation of the large one twinkling in the corner. “Okay, thieves. Which one of you copped my spare pack of smokes?”
“You can thank all of us.” Jazz smiled widely. “We all decided our biggest present to you would be the gift of clean lungs. So…you’re welcome.”
Nick’s snarl would’ve made Lila laugh if he hadn’t immediately dug through another box covered in, oddly, what appeared to be the front page of that day’s newspaper. “You all think you’re so smart. Guess you missed this, Miss Manners,” he said to Jazz, pulling out a thin box of cigars. “I got them for all of us to smoke after dinner.”
“What all of us?” Simon shook his head. “I can’t smoke with my throat.”
“I can’t either. You know I’m avoiding all that stuff.” Gray stopped bouncing Dylan in his lap, who looked to be in some kind of food-induced coma.
“Dude, I don’t do that shit. I keep my body clean. You know that,” Deak put in from the rocking chair in the corner. Harper was stationed between his legs on the floor, her head tucked on his thigh.
“Oh yeah, that’s right. Darn. I guess these are just for me then.” Nick slipped one between his teeth and flicked out a lighter from his pants pocket. “Merry Christmas.”
Lila leaned in close and let a few of the loose curls from her updo block her face as she murmured, “Smoke that and your mouth isn’t touching mine.”
“Goddammit.” He threw the cigar back in the box with a disgusted huff. “This Christmas stuff is bullshit. Where’s my happiness? Where’s my joy?”
“In your dick, and if you don’t shut up soon, you’ll be holding it all night long.” Simon jolted from Margo’s sharp elbow to his side. “What? Bitching doesn’t earn you sex points. I’m trying to do the guy a favor.”
Lila nearly put in that they were getting the wrong idea about them, that they weren’t starting something up again. Technically, they hadn’t finished the last time. But she didn’t want to get into an argument or make more out of the night than it was.
It was just fun, just sex. Just a little magic on loan. Tomorrow, it would be back to business as usual.
So she drew her legs up to her chest and propped her chin on them. And observed.
Harper dozed against Deacon’s leg, and the two babies mostly slept, in between turning wide eyes on the mammoth pile of gifts being unearthed. Lexi let out a wail when Harper roused enough to bring in a plate of cookies from the kitchen. They were all freshly frosted and sugary-sweet, and Lila had eaten three of them before she noticed Deacon pocketing his phone with a sigh.
“Santa’s stuck in Provo. Stupid snowstorm.”
“So much for our surprise for the kids.” Gray tugged up Dylan’s sock and shifted him on his lap. “Guess we’ll have to try again next year.”
“Dude, Santa here? That’d be sweet.” Simon cleared his throat at Jazz’s pointed look. “Sorry, man.”
“Snow is the freaking best. Screw this blazing sun crap. We had the best time in it.” Nick glanced at Lila and reached over to grip her hand. “Hey, why don’t you come sit on my lap? I can do one hell of a Santa impression. In fact…”
“Nice try.” Lila batted his hand away as everyone laughed.
Nick popped to his feet. “Don’t open my shit. I mean, the stuff I got for you guys. I wanna see your expressions.”
“If you’re going to smoke, so help me, Nicholas,” Lila warned him, studying his face for tells. He sucked at lying.
Or so she’d once believed. Now she wasn’t so sure. She was afraid to believe in him, or in anything beyond getting through this night.
“Nah. Just that damn turkey. Ran right through me.” He patted his stomach and leaped over the strewn pile of gifts—some opened, most not—and out of the circle like a gazelle on crack. A moment later, they heard the sound of his footsteps thundering up the stairs.
“He’s probably the only guy I know who could say that and still think he’s getting sex anytime this century,” Gray mused. Then he glanced at Lila, his brow furrowed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply anything.”
Lila smiled. For rock stars, they were pretty sweet. All of them, even the one with digestive issues. “He’ll get sex whether or not I’m involved.” She held Gray’s gaze, though she could tell the others were exchanging surprised glances. “His hand isn’t choosy, right?”
Margo grinned and leaned around Simon to hold out her fist. Lila bit her lip, then lightly bumped knuckles. “Did I do that right?”
“Yes.” Laughing, Margo moved back and grabbed a box wrapped in bright purple foil. “Here, open this. Simon wrapped it, not me.” She nodded at the clump of tape dangling off one corner.
“Hey, it’s not my fault you don’t buy quality supplies.” Simon flashed Margo his best pout.
It must’ve worked, because she shook her head and kissed him soundly on the mouth. They didn’t stop lip-locking and tongue-tangling until Gray cleared his throat.
“Hello, children present. They’re not ready to see a biology lesson in their living room.”
Simon eased back and slapped Gray’s leg with a grin. “Facts of life, baby. Facts of life.”
“Open that already,” Margo said to Lila, who was still staring at the box, more than a little shell-shocked.
“I didn’t expect presents from you guys.”
“You brought them for us,” Jazz said.
“Yeah, but—”
“No but. Open the damn thing. I need to get up and hand off this baby. I think she has the same stomach malfunction as Nicky.” Simon made a face.
“Speaking of not getting laid tonight, Mr. I’m-wearing-baby-poop,” Jazz said sweetly, unhooking the snuggy from Simon’s chest and carting the now-whimpering baby out of the room. Harper had disappeared into the kitchen again, probably to clean up the mess they’d left behind.
Simon patted his chest. “It didn’t soak through. But man, what a stink.”
Margo moved a full foot away from him.
“Watch your bitching about my kid, Kagan,” Deak said, depositing some other treat Harper had concocted on a table near the fireplace before walking out again.
Smiling faintly, Lila finished unwrapping the box—whoa, Simon had gone heavy on the tape—and pried off the lid. Inside, a pale yellow sweater was nestled among layers of tissue paper.
“Oh my God, cashmere?” Lila drew it out of the box and ran a fingertip down the sleeve. “So incredibly soft. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Is the yellow okay? I know it’s not your usual color, but it just seemed very you.” Margo shifted, seeming uncomfortable. “Goes with your hair.”
“I love it. I’ll wear it tomorrow.” On impulse, Lila got to her knees and crawled across the circle to
give Margo a quick hug. “Thank you so much.”
“Hell yeah, now that’s what I’m talking about.” Simon nudged Margo’s shoulder. “Good choice, babe.”
Margo just rolled her eyes at him.
More presents were exchanged. Margo squealed over the leather jacket Lila had gotten her and let out a laugh when she saw Simon had a matching one in badass floor-length leather. Gray and Jazz loved the picture books she’d gotten them—for Gray, a history of acoustic guitars, and for Jazz, a book with about a million knitting patterns, since that was her new obsession, along with a set of glow-in-the dark drumsticks. The stuff for the babies were oohed and aahed over, and Harper and Deak loved the certificate she’d given them for a couples’ massage.
Lila was just finishing up opening the gifts she’d gotten from everyone—which included clothes, and a gift certificate for her favorite wine store, and an amazing ski vacation weekend from all three couples—when boots clomped down the stairs yet again. Except they sounded heavier this time. And when a shadow loomed in the doorway, there were gasps.
“Santa?” Simon mouthed, wide-eyed.
“That’s not Santa, Pretty Boy.” Jazz popped Simon in the arm, then bounced to her feet. “Holy crap, though, you give a good impression of one.”
“Ho-ho-ho.” Nick walked into the room and grabbed the belt sagging around his waist. His pants were about two deep breaths from indecent. “Where are those babies?”
“Asleep in their bassinettes in the studio. Figured the soundproofing might help them nod off.” Deak set aside his beer. He’d probably limit himself to one. Clean body and all. “Where’d you get that costume? It’s pretty jacked up.”
“Hey.” Lila surprised herself by speaking. It was amazing she even could, since her throat was so tight. “He doesn’t look half bad.”
“Fooled me.” Simon straightened his shoulders. “I mean, yeah, bro, you could’ve done better.”
Nick swaggered into the room, dragging a sack that had clearly seen better days. It also appeared to be empty. “Outta the chair, Papa Smurf.” He jerked a thumb. “People will be sitting on my lap.”
Simon jumped up so quickly that flames nearly shot out of his ass. “Can I go first?”
Nick growled and plopped into Deak’s chair once he’d risen. “If you sit on my lap, you will be lacking a testicle for this most joyous of holidays.”
“Bah.” Simon tugged on Margo’s hand. “Let’s go upstairs before he de-balls me.”
“We’re spending the night,” Margo said to Lila’s surprise. “You know, like the old days. Not that I was here for the old days, but you know.”
Lila tried to lower her brows. “Everyone’s staying the night or just you two?”
“Everyone,” Deak said in his deep baritone, finishing off his beer. “Harp and me are taking our old bedroom, since Jazz’s sister vacated for the night. Though, seriously, I could do without the Bieber pic on the closet door. My room has been defiled by Molly.”
“She says he’s packing,” Jazz said with a dainty shrug, slinging her arms around Gray’s shoulders. “I guess there’s nude shots on the internet. Not that I searched for an hour or anything.”
“That’s my wife,” Gray said with a grin. “Giving her all in the name of research.”
“Hello, this beard is itchy.” Nick tugged on it and huffed out a breath. “Someone better get on my lap pronto or I’m going to lose all my fucking good cheer.”
“I’ll get the babies, but you better not be lewd, crude or anything else.” Harper pointed at Nick before heading out of the room.
“When have I ever been lewd or crude?”
Simon and Jazz spoke simultaneously. “Every minute since birth.”
Lila shook her head and smiled as Margo apparently gave up on possibly sexing Simon to watch the entertainment with Saint Nick and the babies and plopped back down beside Lila. “Who needs boys?” Lila said to her friend, tipping her head against Margo’s.
A hug and a head tip was about as demonstrative as she got during the holiday season, and Margo seemed to know it because she laughed and went along with her. “Not us.”
“Does this mean this sleepover is turning girl-on-girl?” Simon wondered, popping a mini sausage-and-cheese on a stick from Harper’s snack tray in his mouth.
“Hey, watch it, potty mouth,” Harper said, toting in Dylan with Deak and Lexi bringing up the rear. “Little ears.”
Dylan lifted his head from Harper’s shoulder and blinked, making everyone laugh.
Simon grinned. “See, the boy’s already tuning in at that mention.”
Harper set one sleepy baby on Nick’s right hip and the other on the opposite one, and Jazz and Deak started competing over who would snap the best picture with their phone. Harper joined Margo and Lila’s side of the circle, and after handing her phone to Gray, Jazz flanked her other side and linked arms with her bestie to watch the squabbling boys with the now-fussing children.
“Which one you think will run from the stink farm that is a baby post-bottle first?” Harper asked.
“Simon,” they all said simultaneously.
“He does have a model image to project,” Margo said, laughing as Jazz bumped her leg.
An hour later, the pictures had all been taken, and the babies had been tucked back into their beds. The presents had all been unwrapped. Actually, decimated was a better word for the collection of boxes, bows and paper strewn across the floor in front of the waning fire.
Nick’s presents had been viewed with confusion at best. He seemed to have grabbed every boxed convenience gift he could. And his choices of recipient were puzzling too. He’d given a mini checker set to Deacon, who had hands the size of rump roasts, and hair ties that appeared to belong in the children’s aisle to Jazz, and a mini cutting board with a cheese knife to Harper that broke as soon as she removed it from the box. He’d thrown in some better gifts too, but they were overlooked in his delight at giving the game Simon to…Simon.
If Lila hadn’t known better, she might’ve thought he’d been hitting the cooking sherry before his Santa duties. Hard.
The festivities started petering out after the fail that was Nick’s gift-giving efforts. Simon and Margo retreated to his old room to…well, they probably weren’t singing Christmas carols. Deak and Harper were the next to head upstairs, followed soon after by Gray and Jazz, who’d gone from snuggling in front of the fire to not-so-subtly groping each other.
“Merry Christmas,” Jazz said over her shoulder before they left the room, directing a secret smile at Lila and Nick.
“Merry Christmas,” Lila and Nick echoed.
Much celebrating of the naked variety was taking place in the band house tonight. Oblivion was definitely being reached.
Happy holidays indeed.
Now the only one who remained in the living room was crotchety Saint Nick, who was still sitting in his rocker, the wilted sack between his feet and a peevish expression on his face as he tugged on his beard.
“Ah, to hell with it,” he said finally, flinging the straggling white thing in the direction of the tree. It caught on one of the branches.
Lila laughed, shaking her head. Laughing was good. It helped stave off the nerves, and oh Lord, there were so many of them. “Bet it feels good to take that off.”
“There’s a few other things I’d like to take off. Like these stupid pants.” He toed off his heavy boots, then stuck out his legs. “If you knew how much I paid for this ridiculous costume, you’d be horrified.”
“Why did you buy a Santa costume?” she asked softly. If he said to entertain the babies, she’d probably melt into mush right in front of him. She couldn’t imagine what could make her turn into a puddle faster.
Hell, he was probably waging a campaign to ensure she didn’t back out of their one-night reprieve. Not that he had to worry. She was too loose and relaxed after her wonderful evening with the band to want to think about pictures and scandals or to worry about her job or soon-to-be e
x-husband.
She just wanted to love and be loved, for one night.
Tomorrow, she’d go back to her responsibilities. To real life, no matter how chilly and lonely it was without Nick’s grousing and his rumbled words against her ear, usually dirty, scandalous things that made her blush.
“I got it to wear when we went back home to see your folks.” He tugged on his belt, undoing it with a grunt. “Figured it would be a good way to hide in plain sight. Then we ended up not hiding at all.”
And yep, that was the only thing that could make her turn into a pile of goo quicker. He’d gotten the Santa costume so he could go home to be with her and her family without anyone being the wiser. Anyone like the paparazzi, who were so eager to trap someone caught in a downfall. Or better yet, eager to make someone’s downfall come that much faster.
Like, say, a married—but soon-to-be divorced—woman and the guitarist of a rock band she managed.
She swallowed thickly. “No. We didn’t hide from anyone.”
They’d played in the snow like children and kissed in front of her parents and store patrons and anyone who happened to walk by. They’d held hands and laughed and…well, for lack of a better word, romped.
She’d been part of something she’d never hoped to wish for again, until Nick had blown into her life and smashed it wide open. She’d been part of a couple. A real one this time. One with arguments and joy and inside jokes and sex.
God, the sex.
He patted his lap. “C’mere.”
She went, helpless to say no. It would all be worth it tomorrow—the pain, the regret, the distance they needed to keep between them for so many reasons. As long as she could have him tonight.
Actually getting on his lap was a bit of a challenge. She tried to be dainty about it, but he wasn’t having that. He slid his arm around her waist and hauled her across his legs, then dipped them both to grab the sack at his feet. “Your gifts are in here. I kept them aside.”
