by Mimi Barbour
Epilogue
Christmas morning, Crysta woke up in the warmth of Dillon’s embrace and a nagging ache at her side. She reveled in the quiet for an hour or so, just enjoying the feeling of togetherness. The studio apartment brimmed with baby paraphernalia from the baby shower Lara had given her—even Jimmi and Porche had come.
And yes, everybody had eaten cake and had a good time.
Dillon had arranged for time off so that he could spend the holidays with her, and Sam. Or Andrew. She ran her hand over her belly. “What about Phinneus? I have a feeling we need to pick a name today.”
Dillon was alert and out of bed in an instant, his hair flat to one side. “Today? But, he’s not supposed to come until January.”
“Baby’s come in their own time, Dr. Mary said. And my back ache has been happening every twelve minutes.”
“We have to go.” He shimmied into his jeans.
“We have time. Dr. Mary said to call her when they came every ten minutes.”
“I don’t like Phinneus.” Dillon sank to the edge of the bed, and then lifted the cover to kiss her toes. “Where did you put the list?”
They’d narrowed the options down to about ten.
“Would you like to open your present?” she asked, sighing as he massaged her calf.
“When did you have time to shop?” He tickled behind her knee.
“The Internet is my friend. It’s kind of a family gift.” She loved saying the word.
He scooted off the bed, dragging her up with him. She had a four-foot Christmas tree next to the TV, and she dug around underneath it until she found the package that she wanted.
“You said no presents,” he said with a scowl.
“You bought me this gorgeous ring.” She lifted her hand to the light coming in from the window. The diamond was shaped like an oval and banded in black onyx—and she couldn’t stop admiring the shine. “Would you please just open it?”
Dillon exhaled, then pulled the ribbon, a smile around his mouth. “Okay.”
He lifted the passport holders—three of them in matching leather—and shifted the tissue paper. His eyes widened as he lifted a new camera with telephoto lenses—long distance. “Safari?”
“Just because you have a family doesn’t mean that we can’t travel. I like seeing new places and Baby can enjoy it with us. Why not?” She joined him on the couch, putting her hand on his knee. “We don’t have to curl up and be boring just because we get married and have kids.”
“Kids?”
She shrugged. “We might decide to have another one. Let’s not rule it out.”
“You’re killing me.” But he didn’t sound that mad.
“I want you to be happy.” Crysta squeezed the sexy muscle of his arm.
He put the passports on the coffee table. “When do you want to go?”
“Safari, or the hospital?” Crysta rubbed her back. “The trip is paid for—you can choose the date. But we should probably get the car seat in the Audi. I’ll get that bag packed.”
Dillon leaned her backward onto the couch, gently holding her, then kissing her firmly.
“We will make a good team, you and me. And Crysta, life with you will never be boring. I mean, we haven’t even talked about the logistics of things. Like, where we are going to live.”
She waved her hand. “I can’t worry about that right now. Your career requires a lot of moving around, and I assumed that we would go with you.” She rubbed her stomach. “But I did just sign that six month lease on the salon.”
“I can commute. Flights are cheap and I can be here in an hour.”
“Really? That’s cool. You could be home for weekends. I could finish out the lease.” She frowned as a wave banded her tummy.
“You won’t freak out about being by yourself? Some wives have a hard time with that.”
“I’ve never been a wife before so,” she shrugged. “Let’s just take each thing as it comes. No previous notions of what something should be—we’ve already done everything backwards. And I like that, Dillon.”
“I knew that you were the one for me, from the first moment I saw you, my heart knew.”
She nodded. “I felt it too.” She shifted as another cramp got her attention. “Come on, Dillon. Let’s go have a baby for Christmas.”
“Nicholas?”
“Cliché.” She shook her head. “We’d be better off naming him Saint.”
“My neighbors had a dog named Saint.”
“That’s it. I’m calling a cab. If you want to be funny, you can meet me there with Lara.” She grabbed her phone and texted her best friend. “Just kidding. She has to be there. We’ve practiced breathing.”
“There’s a special way to breathe?” Dillon asked.
“It’s like the regular way, but you can’t panic. That’s the main thing.”
“Hang on.” He ran to install the car seat.
She took a shower, texted Dr. Mary, texted Lara, who was going to meet her at the hospital, and gathered her things in the hospital bag. “This is it. I am so glad that you are here, Dillon. I love you.”
“I love you very much, Crysta. Now, let’s go start the next adventure.”
The End
A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
Thank you for reading Santa Baby, part of the Unforgettable Christmas-Gifts of Love boxed set. In this story I’ve taken a relationship backward. Baby, then marriage, then love. Truth is often stranger than fiction, and I had the idea for this story as my daughter found her own happily ever after. This is all fiction, of course, but I tried very hard to showcase the love that happens when a baby enters the equation. This is the 13th story in the By the Sea series—all are stand-alone contemporary romances that take place in a seaside town. I love hearing from readers, and would appreciate an honest review. Thank you very much for reading. You can check out more By the Sea books, or sign up for my newsletter to get a free story, here: http://www.tracihall.com/by-the-sea/
Holiday By The Sea
USA Today Best-selling author
Traci Hall
Copyright © 2015 by Traci Hall
Book Description
Teagan Becker comes home to save the family business, putting her dreams on hold for the holiday season. A professional video blogger, Teagan is determined to see the world without anything tying her down. No car, no apartment, and definitely no boyfriend.
Riley McSorley teaches music to fourth graders, glad for the steady job with insurance and a 401 K. Sure, he once wanted to be a rock star, but that was a childish dream. Now he wants a white picket fence by the sea.
Teagan offers him a part-time job at Becker’s Bakery over his school vacation, which saves her from getting behind on cookie orders. Side by side in the trenches, they realize that they are total opposites, but those differences create symmetry. Riley wants a girlfriend, to hang out at the beach and enjoy the tropics. She wants independence, and blisters under the sun. By New Year’s, Riley knows that Teagan is the woman for him, yet she can’t, won’t, give up her dream to travel Europe. Despite their great passion, unless they learn to compromise, their relationship will be lost.
Chapter One
Late, Teagan Becker tugged her green and white tights up over her not so tiny ass and winced as the elastic band dug into her waist. The last time she’d worn this outfit she’d been a senior in high school.
Good German stock, her mom liked to say, handing over a cinnamon nutty bun fresh out of the oven, dripping with real butter. College had saved her from ballooning to two hundred and having a heart attack before she turned legal drinking age, but at 5 foot 5 and one hundred sixty pounderoos, she was very, very curvy.
She shrugged into the green velvet elf costume her mother had made specifically to fit her, what, six years ago? Always top heavy, Teagan sighed with relief when she was able to button the last ceramic candy cane over her breasts. Make-up done, elf ears in her purse. Go.
Grabbing the keys to the delivery van, Teagan got a look in the
mirror by the door and stopped short. The once knee-length costume now hit her thigh. The cuckoo clock cooed and her heart thumped. Late. She had a thousand cookies waiting in the van to be delivered to the elementary school, by her, dressed as Santa’s helper.
She winced and checked out her back side. Elf, hooker, please God she wouldn’t get pulled over.
The phone rang, the wall-mounted antique shaking with each brrrring. She ignored it and raced to the garage. Ten years old, the Town and Country was in mint condition due to regular oil changes and indoor living. Still, a van was a van and this one had Becker’s Bakery emblazoned in gold on the side. Not her chariot of choice.
The house phone’s shrill ring stopped, but on cue, her cell phone rang. Ignoring that too, Teagan pressed the garage door button, started the van and pulled out into the street. She blinked against the bright South Florida sun, checking the time on the dash. Shit. If she got caught by the bridge over the Intracoastal, it would knock her back another ten minutes.
Teagan set her phone in the car mount and answered, “Hey Ma.”
The terrible connection usually made it sound like her parents were on the other side of the world, only this time they were. Cologne, Germany to be exact.
“You should be at the school already,” her mother scolded. Her accent was thicker than normal due to the proximity of her homeland.
“Just leaving the house.”
“Did you lock the door?”
Teagan refused to go back and see. “Yeah. How are you feeling, Ma?”
“I hate it when you call me that,” her mother complained.
“Are you taking your meds?”
“Pah.”
Teagan turned onto Commercial, very conscious of the carefully packed cookie boxes in the back. “What does that mean? Let me talk to Dad.”
“You never want to talk to me!”
“Because you don’t answer my questions.” She tapped the steering wheel with a long candy-apple red nail.
“What questions?”
“Ma!” Teagan loved her mother but they had some sort of toxic symbiotic thing where Frau Becker treated Teagan like a child, so Teagan, in turn, acted like one. With great patience she concentrated on the road. Why were there so many cars in the way? “I have to go. You better be taking the medicine the doctor gave you, or you could die. Strokes are nothing to “pah” about, Ma – Mom.”
“Our hotel has a view of the Cologne Cathedral,” her mom said in her “I’m changing the subject” tone. “They have tours all afternoon. We’re going to go.”
Teagan switched into the right lane. The bridge was ahead, the light green. So close! “I know. I booked it, remember?”
Her mother’s stroke had scared the crap out of all three of them and despite the fact that Becker’s Bakery had delivered cookies for over thirty years to the Ft. Lauderdale area, her dad had bought tickets and guilted Teagan into coming home to work for the holiday while her parents visited Mom’s relatives in Cologne. Not good family, as her mother refused to stay with her cousins, but she wanted to see them and her birthplace before she died.
If her mother would take the medicine and lay off the beer bread and schnitzel then dying could be decades away, but Frau Becker loved drama and she rarely got to be the center of attention.
“Teagan, schnukiputzi, what is wrong?” Her dad’s calm voice crossed the thousands of miles like a hug. “Your mother looks upset, and she doesn’t need to be upset. The doctor said she should relax.”
“Touring the cathedral is relaxing?” She’d taken the virtual tour. Stairs everywhere.
“She walks as slow as a snail, engel. Don’t worry.”
Teagan hoped the time away from the bakery allowed her mom to heal. “Is she taking her medicine?”
“Pah,” her dad said, echoing her mother’s sentiments.
The bridge lights turned red and some jack ass cut in front of her, forcing her to slam on the brakes. Boxes of delicate cookies banged against the back seat. “Happy holidays!” Teagan shouted as the guy rolled down his window to give her the finger.
“What was that?”
“Nothing, Dad.” Since traffic was now at a time-halting stop, and would be for five minutes as hundred-foot sailboats went through the Intracoastal, Teagan stuck the van in park and pulled the plastic ears from her purse. “Make sure she follows the exact dosage. And no heavy cream in her coffee.”
“Now, Teagan, a little bit won’t hurt.” Her pacifist father always tried to smooth things over, but high cholesterol was out of his control.
“I printed out a list of foods that were better options, Dad. Low fat or non-fat. Did you read it?” Growing up, veggies were a four-letter word, unless cooked in a savory cream sauce. Or topped with cheese.
Silence, then, “I’m sure I put it somewhere. In the suitcase.” He cleared his throat. “You should be at Watkins already.”
“I’m in the van.” The three of them had worked together to get the cookie orders all finished before the elder Beckers got on the plane, leaving the younger, less enthusiastic Becker to make deliveries.
“You checked the wax paper? The frosting is perfect?”
“Everything is perfect, just as you left it.” If it was up to Teagan, a cookie wreath might miss a holly berry, but no—her parents counted. Three red berries per cookie. It made her crazy. “I have to go. Bridge is green.”
“We will call tonight, to see how it went.”
“Checking in twice a day is not disengaging from the business.” Teagan wiggled the pointy flesh-colored ears over her own. “Mom needs a break, so give her one, Dad. Take her on a riverboat ride. Walk around the shops.”
Her dad chuckled. “It’s like a second honeymoon. The tub in this hotel is big enough for two.”
“Dad!” Teagan scowled at the phone on her dashboard. “Ew. Listen, don’t call for a few days, okay? Think of the international phone charges.” I need a break.
“Hmm. We love you, Teagan. Thank you for helping us out—I know you sacrificed your vacation.”
Vacation? If she liked Europe, she might never come back. “I love you too. And it wasn’t a sacrifice, just a small delay. You have one month, Dad. Then I’m out of here.” She planned on starting with a Europass in London and going from there.
She shifted the van into drive, checking her lipstick in the rearview mirror, her mouth a bright red bow. Blue glitter in her eyelashes, and twin rosy circles on her cheeks. Her long red hair was up in a high ponytail to show off the ears. Dang it, the left one was loose.
The clock blinked from the console as if yelling at her, but she didn’t dare speed and risk a ticket. Her parents would kill her if she screwed this up.
***
Riley McSorley led his class in another rendition of Jingle, Jingle. He stood on the stage, facing thirty ten-year-olds as they practiced in the auditorium for the holiday celebration in two days. Parents and family were invited, making it a big deal at Watkins Elementary. The private school was not religion-based, so the classics like “Oh Holy Night” were out, though “Grandma Got Ran Over by a Reindeer” was a crowd favorite.
“Excellent. Maybe not at the top of your lungs, Mitch? Let’s do it again. Just the girls.”
This was his first job out of college, where he’d graduated from FAU with a master’s degree in music, which was one step above an arts degree, according to his mother, which was one step above working at Starbucks. In fact, the coffee company probably had better benefits than most jobs a guy could get with an art degree. Again, according to his mother.
“Now only the boys,” he said, rocking back on his heels and directing them with hand gestures.
His mother, thank God, lived in Kansas. On her third husband, through no fault of her own, she’d announced that she wasn’t in the mood for Christmas shenanigans this year. Too much work. Her and, what was his name, Josh? John? were going down to the Gospel Mission to uplift the spirits of those less fortunate.
Riley felt sorry for
the poor souls. They had no idea how not uplifting his mother was. Relieved, and guilty for being relieved, he’d ordered a meal to be sent to their house for Christmas Eve, along with some generic gifts. His mom liked to re-gift, and once he’d gotten over the hurt of her passing along the scarf he’d bought her to someone else, he’d tried to make it easy on her.
Nothing says love like vanilla-scented bath soaps.
“Together, again!” He pointed at the tallest boy in the back who had to be tone-deaf. “No screaming, just singing. Good.” He nodded, knowing that this class wasn’t hiding any raw musical talent, but they had enthusiasm, and that would count with the parents.
When they finished, he clapped. “Awesome. Stretch now, touch your toes. Reach for the sky. What next?” He knew what came next, but he’d learned very quickly that keeping the kids busy was the key to a happy classroom.
It was his second year, and he was hoping to get his contract renewed for a third. This wasn’t his dream, but it was a decent job. And according to his mother, dreams didn’t pay the bills.
All of a sudden the kids started laughing and pointing behind him. Riley turned, adjusting the sleeves at the wrists of his Oxford shirt. He wore a burgundy tie, his nod to the season.
He wondered if the principal had come in but when he looked up he swallowed a chuckle. A woman in low-heeled, curved-toe elf shoes, green and white tights, and a green velvet costume that burst at the seams in very interesting ways, backed into the auditorium, pulling something on a trolley.
He realized she needed help balancing a high tower of bright red boxes before they all crashed and he stepped forward. “Hello!” Riley took the stairs down from the stage two at a time. The top box teetered, ready to fall. “Can I help you? Are you looking for the office?”
Riley heard her intake of breath as she looked up the tower, one of her elf ears loose and hanging from the lobe like a gory earring. He followed her gaze and quickly reached over her head to steady the too-tall column. What had she been thinking? Basic physics. Gravity. Common sense said that it would fall.
