Christmas With You

by Tracey Alvarez

  His mother’s cheeks sucked in. This time, she’d obviously heard the razor edge in his tone. “Well, eventually. We’d hoped—”

  Kip shoved himself out of the armchair. “You hoped I’d jump at the opportunity?”

  His father also stood. “We thought you’d be happy about this. None of the girls have ever been interested in running the farm, and you were a natural all those years we worked together. It’s your legacy, son.”

  “Don’t use that guilt bullshit on me.” The skin across Kip’s shoulder blades crawled. “Were you even listening when I said I didn’t love milking the way you do? How the endless hours stuck in a cowshed, the exhaustion, the bloody monotony of each day was sucking the life outta me?”

  “We figured you needed a little time to find out the grass isn’t greener down here on Stewart Island.”

  “To come to my senses, right?”

  His father’s steady gaze said it all. “We thought you’d want to come home, be with your family.”

  “My home is in Oban. I’m not going back to work the farm; I have a job I love here. And my family?” Kip couldn’t stop a snort of bitter humor from escaping. “My family who doesn’t understand me—why the hell do you think I moved so damn far away?”

  Silence ricocheted around the room, until a soft throat-clearing drew his attention to Carly, who’d gotten to her feet. “I’d better leave so you can finish this discussion in private.”

  “Carly—” he said.

  Vee stepped through the doorway with a red-cheeked, shiny-eyed Ruby propped on one hip. “How the heck am I supposed to get Ruby down with all this—” Her gaze skipped between Kip and their parents. “Oh.”

  Ruby’s chubby face angled toward him, and her lower lip quivered, followed by a piercing howl. The thunder of twin footsteps echoed up the stairs from the lower floor bedrooms, and muffled shouts from his brother-in-law.

  Sweet baby Jesus—somebody kill him now.

  “I’m going for a run.” With an apologetic glance at Carly—because as much as he wanted to drag her away with him, he needed to blow off a head of steam first.

  Giving the screeching Ruby and his sister a wide berth, he left the house.

  Chapter 11

  Carly sat cross-legged in the mistletoe kissing corner.

  After 11:00 p.m. on Christmas Eve, Oban was a ghost town. Everyone was tucked up in their beds with visions of sugarplums and crap dancing in their heads. She’d been sitting alone in Due South for over an hour, just staring up at the bunch of mistletoe. Every now and then, she’d stand and give it a poke, making it twirl in the faint glow of colored lights. Helped pass the time until midnight.

  “It’s nearly Christmas, Daddy,” she said into the silence. “I hope you and Mom have hung your stockings.”

  She couldn’t give an accurate time countdown, as she’d left her phone on her nightstand, refusing to check her text messages. They’d all be variations of “Happy Holidays, Carly!” and “Have a wonderful Xmas!” from her friends back home. She also refused to hang around her house and be glared at by the still-unpacked box of decorations, because Kip would likely show up there. The kind of stuff she’d thought about was nothing she wanted to hammer out tonight.

  Stuff like, what would she do in the New Year after Bill and Del recovered from the kidney transplant? Should she stay, when she wasn’t really needed?

  Stuff like, would whatever-this-thing-was with Kip continue past December twenty-fifth?

  The tightness in her chest suggested her heart had transitioned from Casual Holiday Romance capital letters, to IN LOVE WITH—caps locked, bolded, and highlighted in psychedelic pink.

  Footsteps strode down the hallway behind her, and before she could stand, the connecting door flew open, and the overhead lights flicked on.

  West swept into the bar, his head jerking from left to right. He spotted her in the corner and gave a comical double-take. “Carly! Goddammit—there you are.”

  He stalked over. “What the hell are you doing sitting in the dark? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for hours.”

  Carly scrambled to her feet, pins and needles racing up and down her legs. “Wait a second; what are you doing here? You’re meant to be in Queenstown.”

  “Change of plans. We decided not to go—which you would’ve known, if you’d bothered to check your bloody phone.”

  “I was at the Sullivans’ until nine.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I know. I’ve been out there looking for you. They were concerned, too, after I told them you weren’t at home, weren’t at Dad’s, and weren’t with Kip—and yeah, I’ve been to his place, and he’s not there, either.”

  “He went for a run.” She stomped her legs to get the blood flowing again. “And you shouldn’t have worried about me.”

  “You’re my sister; of course I was frickin’ worried about you.”

  “What did you say?”

  West rolled his eyes and sighed. “You. Are. My. Sister. And as my sister, you have to suffer along with the rest of us, by keeping Glenna happy and coming to church tonight.”

  Blood pounded through her ears. West calling her his sister? Inviting her to the midnight service with the rest of his family? And—“The rest of us? None of you went to Queenstown?”

  “I manned up and figured out how to be your brother on practical guy terms.” West fired off a crooked smile. “When I talked to Piper, and we told everyone we were staying with you and Claire and Bill tomorrow, they all wanted to stay, too.”

  “But the cost of the flights—”

  He waved her protest away with a derisive snort. “You think I put money before friends and family? Hell, I’d never have hired an ex-milker and a flight attendant as bar staff if I did.”

  He closed the gap and hauled her into a bear hug, bending down to kiss her forehead. “Merry Christmas, Carly. And heads up—you’re on lunch dishes tomorrow.”

  She hugged him in return and burst into tears.

  “Oh, shit—hey!” West reared back. “Forget it. Del and I will toss a coin.”

  “I’m not crying about the dishes.” She sniffed and swiped a hand across her cheeks.

  “Oh, good, well…mmm.” He gingerly patted her shoulder, as if he expected her to detonate into a weeping snot-ball.

  Keys rattled in Due South’s door, and Kip stepped inside, the key chain dangling from his fingers. Sharp blue eyes took in West’s arms still around her, and her no doubt vampire-red eyes.

  The room’s testosterone level rocketed up a notch.

  Kip shoved the keys into his jeans pocket and strolled over. The fresh scent of lemon soap drifted off his skin—no girly body-wash for him, he’d told her this morning as he’d lathered them up. Judging by the wet strands of hair blown haphazardly around his head, he’d just gotten out of the shower.

  “You okay, Carly?”

  Nope. Not okay. Not at all. Almost to the North Pole away from okay, with him standing there looking so damn yummy her stomach cartwheeled out of control.

  She fixed on a game smile. “West told me they’re all staying here for Christmas.”

  Kip dipped his chin in acknowledgment. “I saw Del and Shaye while running out to Shearwater Bay. He filled me in.” He shot a glance at West. “I’d like to talk to Carly alone.”

  West moved in front of her. “Depends if my sister wants to talk to you.”

  Shifting to a bring-it-on stance, Kip raised his eyebrows. “Oh, now she’s your sister.”

  “Yeah, now she is. And maybe she was hiding in the dark to get away from you, in which case, you and I should talk privately.”

  If she hadn’t been feeling queasy from the Sullivans’ huge roast dinner and the barrage of emotions racing through her, Carly would’ve found the guys’ blustering amusing.

  “West,” she said. “I’m not trying to get away from anyone. I came to Due South because of the mistletoe.”

  Both men tipped their heads to look up at the ceiling.

  “Mistlet
oe?” West asked. “You were waiting for…? Oh. Right.” Faint color stained his cheeks, and he cleared his throat. “Gotcha. Well, I’ll leave you both to lock up after your, er, talk. Church starts in forty minutes.”

  “I’ll meet you there,” she said.

  West cast Kip another sharp glance and then left the way he’d come in. The muscles in Carly’s legs quivered and jumped, and she wrapped her arms tightly around her middle. Her dad raised her to tackle problems head on. For the most part, she had—case in point, flying all the way to the other side of the world to try to forge some sort of relationship with her eldest stepbrother and his family.

  But now, she wanted to hide under her blankets until New Years—forget missions, forget Christmas, forget everything, including the feelings for Kip she could no longer deny.

  ***

  Now he’d interrupted a moment between Carly and her stepbrother, any words Kip planned to say evaporated. His heart had been bruising the inside of his ribcage when he’d come down the hill from her empty house for the second time—until he’d spotted the lights on in Due South.

  “Mission six,” he said now, once West left. “A kiss with your dad under the mistletoe. That’s why you’re here?”

  She nodded, and it flayed him to see the defiant tilt of her chin, the distance she kept between them with her arms wrapped around her waist. Only this morning, they’d tumbled on his bed, laughing and making love to each other with an intensity that left them both breathless.

  “You didn’t have to come here alone. I would’ve been here—I want to be here for you and your final mission.”

  “Like you and your family sneakily organized the other missions?”

  “Guess you caught on. Did we succeed in bringing your Christmas mojo back?” He smiled, some of the tightness easing in his chest as she offered a small one in return.

  “Some of it.”

  He moved closer, a hapless moth drawn irresistibly to the light emanating from her like a golden aura. “I was trying to find you to ask if we could spend tomorrow together—just you, me, and a bottle of champagne in bed.” He ramped up his smile from a slight curve of his lips to a wide, sinful grin.

  He’d take the damn bunch of mistletoe with him and kiss her under it until she couldn’t remember her own name. Waking up on Christmas morning with Carly at his side sounded like the best gift in the world.

  Her eyebrows twitched down. “But our families are expecting us.”

  “Families sometimes have too many expectations. We can make our own decisions.” Hell if he wanted to waste a day being picked over by his parents and made to feel like ass for not buying into their big retirement plan.

  “What about the kids?”

  Carly’s concern over his niece and nephews was sweet, but a minor issue easily solved. He shrugged. “We’ll venture out for a couple of hours to drop off presents and help the twins build a few Lego creations. They’ll be too excited with all their other gifts to worry about their uncle not being there the rest of the day.”

  “And your parents? Your sisters and brothers-in-law? They spent a ton of money coming here. You’d blow them off for sex with me?”

  Icicles prickled a trail down his spine. “We’re pretty damn incredible in the sack. And the way you screamed out my name during your second orgasm this morning indicates we’re on the same page about sex.”

  “That’s not the point. Just because you’ve had a disagreement with your parents, you shouldn’t—”

  “Whoa. Disagreement?” He held up a palm. “A disagreement would be whether to have roast turkey or sausages tossed on the barbecue tomorrow. This is emotional blackmail. They don’t accept who I am, and they don’t give a shit about how I choose to live my life.”

  Carly unwrapped her arms from around her middle and planted hands on her hips. “Even if they’re misguided, I’m sure they ultimately want you to be happy. You should be up there trying to fix your relationship, instead of running away again.”

  “I’m not running away.”

  “Opting to stay home in bed with me tomorrow totally is. Your parents love you, just talk to them.”

  “Jesus. You’re so idealistic about my pain-in-the-ass family!”

  Carly sucked in a huge breath, her eyes flaring wide. She took a step away from him, backing into a table. The screech of wood on floor was excruciatingly loud in the loaded silence. “When I told my dad I was moving out, he kicked up a giant stink. He called me every night for six months to make sure I was home safe and not killed by a drunk driver. I’d roll my eyes and say, ‘Yes, Daddy. I’m fine’.”

  The pain in her soft voice gripped his vocal chords, making him unable to speak.

  “Maybe I am idealistic, but I’d give anything to have Dad call me one more time.” Her chin trembled, and she folded her arms again. “And yet you, you don’t appreciate what you’re so blessed to have.”

  If Dudley the Shetland pony had kicked him in the guts, it couldn’t have hurt less. “I’m sorry.”

  Sorry for a lot of things. Putting her in an awkward position earlier at his parents’ place, dredging up sad memories of her dad, and worst of all, assuming she couldn’t bear a day away from him simply because he sure as shit couldn’t bear a moment apart from her. Weak—he’d let himself become weak and vulnerable to a woman. What an idiot.

  “I shouldn’t have suggested it,” he added.

  For her, his family had been a convenient substitute over last couple of weeks, but now that she’d found acceptance with the Westlakes, she didn’t need him or his crazy, interfering relatives. That’s all he’d been. A guy whose family distracted Carly from the prospect of spending the holidays alone.

  And now, she wouldn’t be…

  Pride guided his steps away from her, and he walked to Due South’s door, stiffening his resolve when he turned back to see her eyes, shining with unshed tears.

  “Merry Christmas, sweetheart. I’m glad Santa brought you what you wanted most.”

  Chapter 12

  Santa screwed him over good.

  No presents under the spindly Christmas tree Kip had erected in his living room to pacify the twins. No stocking full of candy canes and other sweet goodies—not even a damn piece of coal. And worst of all, no warm, sweet-smelling woman curled around him when he’d woken.

  He’d stretched out in his empty bed and watched the first streams of daylight cast shimmering patterns on his floor. Was Carly staring at the lavender walls of her bedroom, wishing she was tucked up against him? Or was she already up, pumped to spend the day with her family?

  Christmas was off to a crappy start.

  Carly was somewhere other than at his side, where she should be. He remained stuck at his parents’ house surrounded by shifty-eyed glances and awkward silences—except for Ruby and his nephews, whose squeals of excitement had probably caused him permanent hearing loss.

  Kip slumped farther into the couch and feigned interest in Lucas’ Lego instructions. With another eardrum-puncturing yelp, the boy ran back to his twin and the chaotic mass of primary-colored blocks.

  Vee, next to him, said, “The wind’ll change and freeze your face, grumpy-ass.”

  “I’m not grumpy.” He followed the statement with a tooth-exposing smile. “I’m digesting the massive turkey we had for lunch.”

  She snorted. “Blaming your foul mood on food…typical guy. Can’t you admit you’re missing her?”

  “I’m not missing anything except my afternoon nap.” He stared straight ahead at the Christmas tree, now stripped of presents, but the fairy lights still twinkled since they were of endless fascination to Ruby.

  “Uh-huh,” Vee said. “Well, before you settle down for a post-Christmas-lunch snooze, Mum and Dad want to see you outside.”

  His mouth twisted. “How about I swap you the parental pep-talk for changing Ruby’s stinky nappies for the rest of your stay?”

  “Nice try, Kipper.”

  He stood with a sigh.

  Vee
laid a hand on his arm. “Don’t sell them short. When I told them I was giving up my career to have this baby, they ripped me a new one. But when Patrick bailed on me and Ruby, they got me through a dark time. They love you; we love you. And BTW, I like your new job much more than when you worked in the sheds”—she toasted him with her wine glass—“I sure as hell prefer what you produce.”

  “Thanks.” Kip scrubbed his knuckles across Vee’s head and went to find his parents.

  They sat under a picnic table umbrella, his mum rocking a pram, the dark-shaded cover keeping the afternoon sun off Ruby’s face.

  “She asleep yet?” he asked quietly, taking a seat next to his dad.

  “Almost.” She jiggled the handle and rolled it forward. Sleepy cooing noises came from inside. “But if I stop, it’ll be all on.”

  Kip grunted and helped himself to a handful of roasted nuts on the table. The candy-canes painted on the little dish reminded him of the twins this morning when they remembered to check the garden. Twelve candy canes had grown from the magic jellybeans. He’d ignored the sliver of hurt piercing him that Carly hadn’t been there to see the boys’ excitement.

  “We wanted to say we’re sorry, son.”

  The apology nearly caused him to choke on a Brazil nut. He coughed and pounded his chest. James Sullivan didn’t apologize—ever.

  Kip poured himself a glass of juice from the pitcher on the table and drained half. “I over-reacted, too,” he said. “And I’m sorry I upset you both, but I’m not changing my mind.”

  His dad lifted a shoulder, with a quick turn down of his mouth. “You were right; we never took on board what you said when you left, we just jammed our heads in the sand and pretended you’d come around. We hoped milking fired your blood like me and your Granddad, but it doesn’t, so we’ll move to plan B—bring in a share milker to run things, and keep the farm as an investment…or C, sell it—depending on what you and the girls agree on.”

  A mixture of relief and dread filled his gut. “If you sell the farm, what will you do?”