Once Upon a Christmas

by Lisa Plumley

  She stared with horror at something just behind Nick. She pointed. “No, wait! Get Curly!”

  Nick looked where she pointed. Curly’s exercise ball plunked off the sloped sidewalk into the street, spinning like mad. Inside, the hamster’s furry shape was just distinguishable. Deprived of his focus on Chloe’s heels, he’d steered himself right off their route—and straight into the path of an oncoming pickup truck.

  Larry barked. Nick glanced his way and saw the beagle lunge forward. His leash, still intact, slithered through Chloe’s hands. She jerked forward like a puppet, held by the leash holder attached to her waist.

  The pickup truck revved closer, gaining ground on Curly’s hot pink exercise ball.

  Nick lunged sideways. Gravel spewed beneath his feet. The world jogged up and down as he left the smooth sidewalk for the street below. Hot asphalt rose to meet him, smelling of tar and engine oil. A flash of pink rolled just past his fingertips—Curly’s exercise ball. He’d be damned if the stupid hamster wasn’t trying to get himself squished on purpose, just to avoid walking the equivalent of a million more hamster miles with Chloe.

  “Niiiiiick,” she cried. “Hurry!”

  He scooped up the ball, cradling it like a running back going for the game-ending touchdown. The pickup truck rumbled past in a blast of hot air and exhaust fumes, then kept on down the road, its driver plainly oblivious to the man and hamster he’d almost flattened.

  Heart pounding, Nick straightened. “Good thing I got you,” he told Curly between breaths. “Next time you want to go AWOL, just roll in the bushes and hide, okay?”

  Curly stuck his furry hamster snout to the air vents carved into his exercise ball and sniffed. Nick could almost understand the little runt’s appeal…until Curly bit him.

  “Ouch!”

  “Niiiiick! I can’t hold on much longer!”

  He turned. Chloe sprawled facedown, half across their neighbor’s sidewalk and half across the artfully graveled yard. Her arm stretched forward, her hand maintaining a desperate, wobbly clench on Larry’s leash as she tried to pull him back.

  The mail carrier squinted down at them both, pepper spray at the ready, poised to shoot from his porch railing if need be. It looked like a stand-off—unless Larry managed to break his leash.

  And all of it with Chloe in the middle.

  Nick didn’t remember getting there, but the next thing he knew, he was hunkered down beside Larry’s growling, stiff-spined body, trying to talk him down. Paying no heed, the dog went on staring at his postal quarry, his white-and black-spotted fur bristling straight up. It was enough to make the hair stand at the nape of Nick’s neck, too. Stark, unreasoning terror made his gut clench. It didn’t take a veterinary genius to spot the signs of a pissed-off, territorial doggie defender.

  Only a lunatic would get in Cujo’s way. Guess what that makes me? Nick thought as Larry’s rumbling growl got louder. The dog’s lip lifted to expose several pointy, vicious teeth. Nick’s gaze met Chloe’s—only briefly, but it was enough to tell him what he needed to know. She was depending on him.

  He put Curly down in the gravel, where he couldn’t roll far, and edged closer. “Don’t try anything stupid,” he warned Larry as he scooped up all fifty squirming pounds of him. “I’m way too tough to make a good doggie treat.”

  In his arms, Larry’s body vibrated with a fresh growl. Luckily, it was still aimed at the postman, not at him.

  “Go on,” Nick yelled to the mail carrier. Groaning beneath the dog’s weight, he stepped back to let some slack in the leash. He looked Mr. Pepper Spray in the eye. “I’ve got him. You can put that stuff away now.”

  The postman eyed him suspiciously. As though egged on by his blatant distrust, Larry morphed into Superdog in Nick’s arms, lurching hard to get free. Then the postman got wise and put away his pepper spray, Chloe got to her feet, and everything turned right with the world.

  “Oh, Nick!” She leaped toward him, enfolding both him and Larry in a bone-crushing hug. The dog squirmed, trying to lick her face. “Thank you! You saved us.” Her gaze shifted to Curly, rolling his exercise ball uselessly atop a patch of volcanic rock gravel, then upward again. “You saved us all.”

  Sure, Nick thought, gazing down into her shining eyes. The way she looked at him made him feel ten feet tall, the greatest hero ever conceived of. I saved myself right into your arms. What was he, nuts?

  Chloe’s flowered baseball cap was askew, her hair damp at the ends and clinging to her neck, her outrageous lipstick mostly melted away by the Arizona afternoon. Her fluttery eyelashes were devoid of mascara and whatever other girly gunk she usually used. She looked wrung out.

  She looked gorgeous.

  He was a goner.

  Where the hell had that thought come from? Nick shook it out of his head. Clearly a case of testosterone talking. It had to be, because he was Chloe’s platonic male friend and nothing else. Nothing else, because her romantic side belonged to a mysterious Marine named Bruno. The reminder snipped the last strand of his already wire-thin patience.

  “Well, you damn well needed saving.” Nick scowled. “What the hell were you thinking, anyway, taking your whole stupid menagerie out for a walk like that?”

  Chloe backed up. The sunlight left her eyes, but he couldn’t let that deter him. She’d get over being mad at him. She might not get over the next ditzy stunt she decided to pull.

  “You could have broken your neck!”

  “You’re right. Curly could have gotten—” Her voice broke, forcing her to try again. “Larry might have been hurt, or—”

  “You might have been hurt! What’s it going to take to knock some sense into you? Because, God knows, your baby hasn’t accomplished that miracle yet.”

  Her hands went to her belly, cradling the child within. He doubted she was even aware of the gesture—or of the tears that shimmered in her elfin eyes.

  “That’s not fair, Nick. You don’t know—”

  “Don’t know what? Don’t know why you don’t get some help?”

  Larry wriggled in his arms. Frustrated, Nick scanned the neighborhood and saw that the postman had already gotten in his vehicle. Larry would be safe on his own for the moment. Nick dumped his dog-breath burden on the gravel and went on talking.

  “You’re right, Chloe. I don’t know why you insist on being so stubborn that you’d rather risk hurting yourself than ask for help.”

  “I don’t need help.”

  “Ha! That’s a laugh, after today. If I hadn’t—” He glimpsed Larry nudging sideways, casting longing looks toward the sidewalk. “Larry, stay.”

  The dog cocked his head, seeming at a loss to understand the command. Great, Nick thought as Larry gave him a tentative tail wag. Even her dog is featherbrained.

  “Stay,” Nick growled.

  “He responds better to kindness.” And so do I, Chloe’s expression said.

  “Chloe—”

  “Come on, Larry,” she said, her voice quavery. “We’ve got a walk to finish. Doctor’s orders.”

  The dog got up—Nick would have sworn the mutt rolled his eyes at his ignored “stay” command—then sneezed and sauntered away. A definite swagger propelled all four of his doggie legs.

  At least one of the males present had managed to stay in Chloe’s good graces. How could it not be Nick, when he’d done all he could to protect her? It didn’t make sense. Nothing drove him crazy like things not making sense. But it wasn’t illogic that made him call out to her. It was something far less defined and much more irresistible.

  It was the sudden, crazy need to take care of Chloe. To keep her safe and happy. Him. Not one of her Brunos or anybody else. Just him.

  If he’d stopped to think about it, the whole idea would have probably scared the hell out of him. But the sight of Chloe swaying down the street—leaving him behind—shook everything else from Nick’s mind.

  “Chloe, wait.”

  She turned. And waited, with a sad look in her eyes that hurt just
to see it. It worried him to see her fighting spirit dampened, even if only for a block or two. Even if only for as long as she needed to power walk out of his sight.

  Frowning, he reached her and drew her closer to him. She bumped along reluctantly, twisting Larry’s leash from its dispenser between them until they stood toe to toe.

  “Wait,” he said again.

  She gazed up at him, all sweetness and seduction without even knowing it…and frowned in confusion. “What’s up?”

  In her place, he’d be wondering exactly the same thing. But the combination of her nearness and the realization that his hand fit perfectly in the delicate curve at the small of her back waylaid his explanation. It was as though he’d been born to hold her this way. Damp heat rose through her bright T-shirt to tease his palm, and suddenly Nick wanted to slip his hand beneath the fabric and feel her bare skin on his instead.

  Why hadn’t he ever held her this way before? She felt better than he could have imagined.

  “That was a rotten thing I said back there.”

  The tropical scent of her perfume wafted to him, muddling his thoughts. It was feminine and sweet and almost tantalizing enough to make him forget that the woman in his arms was Chloe, his best friend. She needed him now. Not as another one of her muscle-headed Brunos, but as the voice of reason.

  Damn, but it was hard to be reasonable when her softness surrounded him and the curve of her hip melted into his forearm. It made him wonder how soft she’d be everywhere else…without eye-popping clothes and a layer of anger between them.

  Only one of those barriers could be dealt with on a city sidewalk in broad daylight. “I’m sorry I said it.”

  “You meant it,” Chloe said matter-of-factly. Her spine straightened against his hand. He felt her take in a deep breath. “Or else you wouldn’t have said it. I’m a big girl, Nick. I can handle it.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah!”

  He tightened his hold on her waist. His other hand went to her front and captured the frayed line from Larry’s leash.

  “Well, you can’t handle this.” One sharp tug snapped the line in two.

  Chloe gasped. At her feet, Larry plopped on the grass and scratched his paw over his ear, not caring that he was technically free to roam wild through the neighborhood. He looked bored with the whole thing.

  Chloe didn’t. She stepped out of Nick’s arms and propped her hands on her hips. The old Chloe was back, and she was mad.

  “What’s that supposed to prove? That you’re some big he-man who can snap a couple inches of leash line? Sorry, not impressed.”

  She wheeled around. Nick grabbed her elbow and yanked her back. “It proves you can’t handle things as well as you think you can.” How could she be so stubborn? So blind to the facts?

  “It’s just a broken leash!”

  “You’re right. And this is just a baby.” He put his hand to the curve of her belly, felt the warmth and life within her. “Your baby.”

  She went still. She paled and pressed her hand over his. “Don’t do this, Nick. Please, I—”

  “You need help. Have you told Brutus—”

  “Bruno.”

  “—about the baby yet? Because he has a responsibility to fulfill. He should take care of you. Marry you. Do whatever it takes.” At her mournful look, Nick rubbed his thumb gently over her belly. “I’m warning you, Chloe. If you won’t make sure you’re taken care of…I will.”

  Chapter Six

  He’d take care of her? What in the world did he mean?

  Chloe bit her lip, trying to hold in the surge of joy she felt. Then her elation wavered. The last thing she wanted was for Nick to take care of her out of some antiquated sense of responsibility. Their baby deserved more, and so did she.

  Besides, if Nick really wanted her for himself, why did he have to keep bringing up Bruno? Why now, of all times? The two of them were near enough to tango, close enough to kiss. A million miles away from the love she’d touched so briefly.

  Why, oh why, had she invented Bruno? He’d only complicated things better left simply heart-wrenching and insolvable.

  “I don’t want a man who’d only marry me out of duty. That’s no kind of life for me.” Chloe looked up at him, needing to make him understand. “Don’t you get it yet, Einstein? I want the whole fairytale ending. White picket fence, a ring on my finger…and a man who loves me.”

  Nick caressed her belly again. “There’s more than yourself to think about now.”

  She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Why wouldn’t he understand?

  “That’s the whole point, you big idiot!”

  Tears gathered in her eyes, blurring her vision until Nick didn’t even look like someone she knew anymore. Blinking hard, Chloe bent to catch hold of Larry’s collar and urge him to his feet. She had to leave, had to get out of there before she blurted the whole sordid truth to Nick and ruined everything.

  “I’ll see you around.” She sniffled as she churned down the sidewalk. Power walking was almost impossible when you couldn’t see anything, she was discovering. “I’ve got more indulgent and incredibly self-absorbed things to do with my time than be lectured to.”

  Behind her, Nick mumbled something about hormones and irrational women. Something stupid enough to make her blood boil, probably, if she’d stopped to listen. So she didn’t.

  Chloe was already at her front door, scrabbling around in the zebra-striped mailbox affixed beside her doorbell, by the time Nick caught up with her.

  She held up her hands in frustration. “What do you want now?” she demanded.

  The mailbox lid clinked shut, neatly hiding the wrapped package of books she’d left inside for her mail carrier—a secret romance novel reader. They were a payment of sorts, for his part in her stupid ploy to get Nick to play the hero for her. She had to admit, his pepper spray threat had been the most inspired touch in her otherwise ridiculous plan. He probably deserved an extra book for that one.

  What had she been thinking? She should have known her ploy was doomed from the instant she perched Shemp on her shoulder and paraded past Nick’s window. Just getting him to glance outside at them had taken four trips.

  Now, ironically, she couldn’t get rid of him.

  “I said, what do you want? Maybe you’ve got a textbook on pregnancy for me? Or another earful of clueless, bachelor, non-father wisdom?” Getting angrier by the minute, Chloe pointed her finger at Nick and backed him against the porch rail. “What’s it going to be, huh? I thought I’d had all the advice I’d ever need from my mother, but I guess there’s always room for one more opinion.”

  She folded her arms across her chest, glaring at him.

  He smiled at her.

  “Arrgh!”

  He laughed, the rat.

  Chloe turned her back on him and whistled for Larry. She had the key in the lock before Nick finally came clean.

  “I brought you this.”

  She looked over her shoulder. He held out Curly’s scuffed exercise ball, offering it to her with the same attitude he might have used to lob over a grenade.

  “You left poor Curly stranded back at Mrs. Marchen’s yard.”

  When you left in a huff, his grin added.

  Chloe reached for the ball. Her fingers touched the edge, dug in the grooves, and pulled with no effect at all. He wouldn’t let go.

  She tried to pry his fingers loose. “I’m not up for another tug of war.”

  “Are you up for a peace offering? I’ll make you dinner tonight.”

  Her heart stopped. Dinner at his place was Nick’s standard third-date maneuver with the what’shernames in his life. Was he actually asking her for a date?

  Yes, yes! her heart shouted. Say yes!

  “Tonight?” she asked, feeling breathless.

  Their fingers touched across the exercise ball. Heat jolted from his to hers, and when Nick gave her a wide, eyelid-crinkling smile to go with it, Chloe knew she was a goner.

  May
be she was going about this all wrong. Maybe running away from Nick was a step in the wrong direction—so to speak.

  “Tonight.”

  His voice sent a fresh shiver through her. How had she not noticed before how throaty, how thrilling, how all-out sexy his voice was?

  “It’s a date,” she said happily, prying his index finger loose from Curly’s ball. He winced. She looked closer. “Nick, you’re bleeding!”

  “It’s nothing.” He shrugged, flexing his finger and looking macho. “I guess Curly thought I might taste good.”

  So did Chloe, when she arrived at Nick’s place that night. He opened the door against the orange and gold rays of the setting sun, wearing a pair of slouchy navy shorts, an open-necked white shirt, and a smile. His hair was still damp—from a recent shower, she guessed—and it looked as though he’d even shaved for the occasion.

  Very tasty, indeed.

  Smiling in appreciation, Chloe edged closer and considered taking a bite. Right at the intriguingly masculine-looking place where the side of his neck disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt. Or maybe she’d just nibble gently on his earlobe, finding the secret spot she now knew was ticklish.

  Instead, she tamped down the impulse and settled for a simple, “Thanks for the invite.”

  His grin widened, probably because he’d caught her ogling him. “Thanks for coming.”

  She handed over the sparkling apple juice she’d brought, then froze as soon as the bottle hit Nick’s hand. He looked at it, then at her, with something akin to confusion.

  “It’s non-alcoholic, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  “I…okay.” His voice told her he hadn’t been wondering if the apple juice was forty proof. “I’ll put this in the fridge. Dinner’s almost ready.”

  He stepped back to let her in, holding aside the lush foliage of a potted palm—one of his growth-accelerated beauties, Chloe guessed—so she could pass. She shimmied between the plant and Nick’s chest, wishing his hands would touch her as gently as they did those shiny leaves…but then, the plant was part of his dream. She wasn’t.

  Chloe ducked beneath an enormous spider plant in a hanging planter, gazing around her at the well-tended greenery that filled his living room. I hate plants.