He swept the hair from her face and gazed at her, his dark brown eyes taking all of her in. The moonlight framed his face, making him appear as if he were immersed in a glowing halo.
“I was dreaming, and I always wake up crying,” she whispered, waiting for the tears to leak from her eyes. “It was so beautiful down there, swimming among the fish. Ken and I used to snorkel, and I always wanted to be certified to scuba dive. I should have done more, gone more places, flew higher and jumped further.”
“You still can.” He kissed her forehead gently. “I’m here to grant your wish. No more shoulda, coulda, woulda done. Just go do it.”
His kiss filled her with warmth, and she felt her heartbeat calm and the tears recede. She didn’t have to wake up crying and grieving for her past. She wasn’t going to be trapped by comparing her circumstances.
“I can go forward and do it all—a new way, not like before, but different.”
“Yes, you can and you will.” He brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. “Merry Christmas, Carol.”
“Merry Christmas, Nick.”
“This Christmas is different.”
“Yes, different but good.” She felt her cheeks bunch up in a smile. “How did you get in here?”
“You wrote me a letter, remember?”
“I didn’t think I sent any of the emails I typed up.”
“It wasn’t an email. It was a letter to Santa, and a special messenger brought it to my hands.”
Carol drew in a sharp breath. “I thought I lost the letter. Who gave it to you?”
“Santa’s secret.”
“Okay, then, I guess it doesn’t matter which of my friends passed it on to you. I only hope they didn’t read it.”
“I read it, many times.” He picked up the envelope from her night table and gave it to her. “It came with a key, too.”
“Someone was really looking out for me.” She stared at her handwriting and swallowed a lump. The amount of love and care from her friends this year was no comparison to the group of climbers and hikers she used to hang around with. The man in front of her was the best thing that had ever happened to her. He still came to her, even after all she’d done to discourage him. She had been so selfish and acted badly to him, and she hoped it wasn’t too late to make up. “Nick, I’m so sorry I doubted you, and I probably hurt you, too.”
“You didn’t doubt me, you doubted yourself, and yes, you did hurt me.” Nick’s eyebrows bunched, and he pressed his lips together.
“Oh, Nick.” She pulled his face toward her and kissed his cheeks, holding him, caressing him. “I never wanted to hurt you and I’m sorry I did. I was scared, afraid, because I needed to know that I loved you for you, not for what you do for me. I want you to keep annoying me, like you did when we first met. I want you to be yourself and relax around me. You don’t always have to please me, just be real. Disagree, tell me off, don’t let me walk on you.”
“I’m not sure I have to worry about you walking on me, or walking out on me any time soon.” He smirked with a gleeful grin.
“Right. Good one.” She gave him a little punch. “Will you forgive me? Will you take me back?”
“That depends.” Nick twisted his lips and hooked up one eyebrow.
“So you now come with conditions?”
“Yeah, lots of them.” He tapped the tip of her nose. “For starters, you’re making me Christmas breakfast. Then we’re watching all my movies, and before bedtime, you’re going to rub my feet. I expect to be pampered.”
“You sell yourself cheap.” Laughter tickled the back of her throat. “I agree to it all. I love you, Nick Wolff. I love all your rough edges and your bad boy ways—except for the other women, of course.”
“Future, Carol. Not past. Wisdom to know the difference granted.”
“Right, you’ve changed, and I trust you completely. Just keep being big, bad Nick Wolff, only for me.”
“You got me, from Nick the Dick to Saint Nick, he’s all yours.”
“And I will always be your Christmas Carol.”
“My year-round Carol, too.” He claimed her lips, and this time, when she kissed him and tasted all of him, she wrapped him into her bed, knowing that this Christmas, her gift to him was her heart, for keeps.
Epilogue
Narrated by Deborah Diamond
You may wonder why Carol and Nick chose me to tell the rest of their story. I’m Deborah Diamond, and I like to think of myself as a cross between a fairy godmother and an avenging angel.
I’m the chief counsel for the Wheelympics charity, and my law firm is one of their biggest supporters. We’re personal injury attorneys, and we represent people who’ve been injured due to the carelessness or negligence of others.
I first became aware of Nick and Carol when I saw the sparks sizzle between them at their first meeting, when Nick approached Carol in his typical swagger to interview for the Santa Claus gig. I was there to observe Carol Cassidy as one of the candidates for the Wheelympics World Tour we were planning for the following year.
As soon as Nick stepped into the studio, I saw trouble for my paraplegic candidate. She was way too attracted to him, and even though she resisted it, I could tell that he would become her downfall.
Nick Wolff was a personal trainer to many of my colleagues, including my ex-employee, Brianna Barrister. Rumors swirled of his legendary prowess as a personal trainer and more, but I never paid it any attention until I started worrying about Carol Cassidy being caught up in Nick’s games.
It wasn’t hard to get the dope on Nick. Brianna was only too glad to brag on the great times she had with him, and I was sure Nick thought of Carol as an adventure to bag, a challenge to topple, and a curiosity to add to his list of conquests.
One of my clients is Jason Boyd, a quadriplegic firefighter with the typical heart of gold and heart-tugging good looks. What woman wouldn’t want to rehabilitate a fireman still trying to find his way around life in a wheelchair?
What luck I had to find out that Carol’s stepsister, Marisa Monroe, was one of Jason’s nurses and friends. It wasn’t hard at all to plant the suggestion to Marisa that her sister would be the perfect woman for Jason.
It was all going so well until Jason had that medical emergency, and Nick happened to come to the rescue. I still think Nick was stalking Carol, but I couldn’t see a way to stop Nick until Brianna provided me the perfect opportunity.
I explained to Brianna that she had to help expose Nick for the player he was to keep Carol safe. We needed her to be a model example of a paraplegic warrior, one who could represent Wheelympics on the World Tour to raise money for disabled children.
Unfortunately, Brianna overstepped, and when I saw her drunk with three firefighters, I seethed, knowing my plan was coming to a fiery end. Brianna, however, made one last ditch effort in the bathroom of the Redwood Hills Country Club.
I saw Carol Cassidy go into the bathroom, and I decided to follow her to see if I could give her some counsel about Nick. I could see how enamored she was with him, and frankly, I was surprised how cozy she and Nick were at the Christmas Gala.
She entered the handicapped stall, so I decided I needed to do some business and went into the stall next to hers to wait. What I heard next blew my mind away. Brianna not only exposed Nick to Carol, but also to her mother and stepmother. I had the perfect storm brewing and knew my efforts were about to bear fruit.
I hated to see Carol hurt, but she knew nothing about the kind of man Nick was. In any case, if she was disappointed about him, she would more easily decide to take up my offer of taking a leave of absence from her programming job and go around the world on the tour. She would get to ski, scuba dive, sky dive, surf, and do all sorts of adaptive sports in support of Wheelympics, and at the same time, mend her broken heart.
My plan began to fall apart when I spotted Nick frantically looking for Carol after the Gala. Her brother had punched him out and instead of fighting, he talked about how everyone und
erestimated Carol, how they acted as if the fact that she was paralyzed had somehow affected her brain. He understood her. He got her, and from the tone of his voice and his body language, I knew he respected her, but even more, he loved her—he truly loved her.
My stomach cringed at what I’d done, and guilt struck me like a lightning bolt. I left that night feeling lower than a snake’s belly in a wagon rut. All night, I tossed and I turned, wondering how I could fix this situation. But there was nothing I could do. I had unleashed Brianna on this wonderful couple, and other than firing Brianna for breach of confidential information—that part about the “friend” and Nick going to get tested for STDs and defamation of character, I had no ability to undo the damage I did.
Labor pains struck me down the next morning, and I knew that I was being punished for my dirty deeds. I prayed that God wouldn’t take it out on my precious baby and tried to drive myself to the hospital.
God, instead, was gracious and good. He brought me right into the hands of Nick Wolff who not only delivered my little Nicole Eve Diamond, but saved her life.
That night, I got down on my hands and knees and begged God to intervene, to right all the wrongs between Nick and Carol.
I waited on pins and needles all night, despite being exhausted from giving birth and tending to my demanding newborn.
On Christmas morning, I couldn’t hold back any longer. I decided to offer Carol the opportunity to go on the Wheelympics World Tour and ask Nick to go along as her personal trainer.
What luck! Nick had decided to study to be a paramedic and Carol had decided to take a leave of absence to explore her abilities and have all the adventures she’d put off because of her work.
They were also together. I had called Carol first to talk to her about the tour, and when I mentioned hiring a personal trainer for her, she suggested Nick. I then realized he was there the entire time, and when he took the phone, he greeted me with such love and warm regard, that I felt dirtier than a cockroach in a Porta Potty.
It is now Christmas Eve again, and my little Nicole is turning one. A wonderful and eventful year had passed.
Nick and Carol are here with me at the Redwood Hills Country Club along with the Wheelympics family to celebrate my little Nikki’s birthday as well as recap their year on the tour.
After a video of their adventures: hiking up Mt. Kilimanjaro, scuba diving in Australia, surfing Baja California, snow skiing the Alps, sky diving, ocean kayaking, hang gliding, horseback riding, and sailing the high seas, Carol gives a speech and encourages donors to give money and support to disabled young people so they could experience adaptive sports and live life to the fullest.
Every word she says comes from her heart and is genuine. Now, after a year of taking chances and doing all the things she only spoke about the year before, she is confident, inspirational, and humorous. She is not only talking the talk, but “walking it.”
I can’t wait for the end of Carol’s speech, knowing what Nick is up to. My heart thunders, and I press my palms over my chest, overcome with anticipation and the emotion of knowing that despite the rough start I gave them, I had inadvertently made their bond strong, and it was about to get stronger.
Nick is dressed in full Santa costume, but without the fake belly and beard. He swaggers over to Carol who is handing the mic back to me, while everyone, including her family and friends give her a thunderous applause.
Five elves in wheelchairs roll in behind Nick.
His eyes focused only on Carol, he walks straight up to her and kneels before her, taking her hands in his. The five elves park their chairs and hold up signs.
Will. You. Marry. Saint. Nick?
“Yes, Nick, oh, yes, I will,” Carol cries and covers her mouth as Nick kisses her left hand and slides a rare, red diamond solitaire onto her finger.
The entire room sighs when they kiss, and finally, I’ve redeemed myself, this night before Christmas.
And as the old saying goes, “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”
Thanks for reading Nick and Carol’s story. Look for more Bad Boys for Hire stories coming up.
Meanwhile, please turn the page to read an excerpt from my popular Men of Spring Baseball Series, Playing Without Rules
For updates and a surprise free book, sign up for Rachelle’s newsletter at http://smarturl.it/RachAyala
Playing Without Rules - Excerpt
For more baseball romance with the Phoenix Rattlers, check out third baseman Brock Carter and Marcia Powers at the Hot Corner Bar & Grill
Playing Without Rules – Excerpt
Copyright 2015 © Rachelle Ayala
Description
A ballplayer’s girlfriend hides his daughter from him because she fears he’s like his abusive father.
Marcia Powers wants nothing to do with ballplayer Brock Carter, especially after she told him to go away and pursue his dreams. She has more than she can handle with an elderly father, a business to run, and a four-year-old daughter posing as her baby sister.
Brock Carter’s back in town to rekindle his romance with Marcia, and this time, he’s not letting her run him out of town. Marcia is unable to resist Brock, but determined to keep her secret.
Brock’s already lost his heart to Marcia once. Will he lose every dream, including baseball, when he discovers the real reason Marcia sent him away?
Chapter One
“The thing about ballplayers is they’re players.” Marcia Powers twisted the stem of a maraschino cherry around the tip of her tongue and eyed the swaggering baseball players descending on her bar, The Hot Corner, in metropolitan Phoenix.
“You should be thankful for spring training.” Her business partner and best girlfriend, Jeanine Jewell, adjusted her stance at the counter to best position her bounteous breasts. “Keeps the tab rolling and the money flowing.”
“Not to mention the groupie traffic.” Marcia sniffed, but cleared her face in time to smile and take orders from the men in business suits idling at the bar. Their attention was split between the ballplayers and the women. Probably scouts sizing up players for pre-season trades.
The traffic was definitely good for business and made up for the dry times. Phoenix was the spring training home to fifteen off-season baseball teams. It hadn’t always been this way, but the dry spring weather and lower real estate costs than California made Arizona attractive enough to draw the franchises as well as provide affordable games for locals and tourists alike.
Marcia passed a tray of girlie cocktails to Jeanine who sashayed past the businessmen to the booth bubbling over with blondes and booze. Jeanine, ever the flirt, bent low in front of the players’ roving eyes. Leers from the men and sneers from the babes followed in her wake.
Jeanine would have her fill until the ballplayers moved back to their major league cities, collecting one-night stands like baseball cards. Somehow, she was impervious to being hurt. From the moment the umpire yelled, “Play Ball!” in the opening game to the closing fireworks show signifying the end of spring training, Jeanine played: infielders, outfielders, pitch and catch with an occasional trainer or coach thrown in for good measure.
“So, who’s in your field of dreams?” A deep, throaty voice drawled so close to Marcia’s ear she almost dropped the whiskey tumbler she was polishing.
Her breath hitched as she jerked around in time to see Brock Carter’s leer dissolve into a grin. “What the hell are you doing sneaking up on me?”
“Ordering a drink, and it’s good to see you again.”
It definitely wasn’t good seeing him—a troublemaker and heartbreaker—especially since the heart he’d trampled on was, at this moment, beating to break out of her ribcage like an excited puppy leaping for a doggie treat.
“I thought you were traded to the minors, what was that team again?” Marcia hoped her voice wouldn’t give away the urge she had to leap over the bar counter and either punch him in the balls or sock him one in the kisser—ruin his action for any other fe
male stupid enough to be sucked in by those misty green bedroom eyes and smooth downhome Southern drawl.
“Minor setback.” He cracked his knuckles and licked his lips. “But I’m back in a big way, and somehow I knew I’d catch you right here, where it all started.”
Arrogant dick. As if he’d known she’d never leave town, never live the dreams she had years ago before her father’s retirement required her to take over the bar, never have the ideal family she’d pictured with a husband manning the BBQ and children playing in the pool.
“Order your drink and get it over with.” She didn’t want to be rude to customers, but Brock Carter was in a different league altogether. He’d certainly filled in since he left town years ago. Sandy-colored hair poked from under his baseball cap. His freckled face was more rugged, sporting a manly cleft while his muscles strained solid under his practice jersey.
Brock shifted his weight, still leaning over the counter, his forearms flexing. “Buy you a screaming orgasm.”
Marcia swallowed as unbidden images of just how hard she and Brock had strained over and under and around the sheets threatened to undermine her outward calm.
She desperately scanned the tables for Jeanine. Her friend would put Brock in his place—give him a polite nod before shooing him off. She knew what damage Brock had done and why Marcia could not ever let him know her secret.
“I take that as a ‘yes.’” Brock pinched her elbow.
Marcia jerked away from the counter as if she’d touched an electric fence. “Take your screaming whatever and drink it yourself. I’m working.”
His bushy eyebrows lowered, Brock’s chin took that stubborn set she knew only too well. “What’s with you, Marsh? I would have thought five years was enough for you to get over whatever snit you had against me.”
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