You for Christmas

by Madeline Ash

  “Oh, so—” Parker paused. “You actually meant the friend thing? I assumed you’d be sharing.”

  Felix hesitated. All too easily could he imagine sharing a room with her. Desire pierced him like a fire-heated blade and he cleared his throat.

  “Meant the friend thing,” he confirmed without conviction.

  “Right,” Parker said with a laugh, betraying he’d heard the hesitation loud and clear. “The rooms at Lullabar are booked out, but I’ve got a spare room at home if it comes to it.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  “No worries. Catch you tomorrow.”

  As Felix ended the call, he said, “There. Now you’re definitely coming.”

  She didn’t answer. Hardly looked to be breathing, but she kept the car steady, so he let her be. Churning over Stevie, most likely, and the things she would say.

  “I’ll book your ticket,” he murmured, and opened the app on his phone. Two seats available on his flight—probably last minute cancellations, bailing on family Christmas—so he booked one, typing in Regan’s distracted answers to the personal details. Then he sat, nose itching, and stared out the window.

  “Did you mean the friend thing?” Her question was quiet.

  Startled, he said, “Yes, of course,” much quicker than he should have.

  “Ever been told you can’t lie?” she asked weakly.

  “Yeah.” Felix swallowed. She’d shared enough personal information these past few days—he owed her honesty. “No. I didn’t mean it.” He braced. “I’m falling for you, Regan.”

  The car slowed noticeably. “You’re what?”

  “Falling for you, and fast.” Rushing towards this woman who had more strength that she could recognize. “So fast.”

  “God.” Pale, Regan brought the car back up to speed. “I thought you’d just say you wanted to have sex with me.”

  “Then there’s that,” he murmured.

  “What does falling for someone even mean?” Blonde hair curled around her neck, gusting in the wind from his open window. A few strands fluttered up, catching on her bottom lip. Her wide eyes stared straight ahead. “Maybe this isn’t that bad.”

  Felix squeezed the bridge of his nose, wishing he could pinch the strain in his chest along with it. Of course she thought this was bad. She’d tracked him down to ease her problems, not add to them.

  “Nothing. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

  She indicated and changed lanes. “Does it mean falling in love?”

  He ran a hand over his face, looking out the window.

  “Felix?”

  Softly, he said, “It can.”

  Another few seconds of silence, followed by a whispered, “Oh, boy.”

  “It’s not why I want you to come to Byron. I don’t intend to make anything of it.”

  “Okay,” she said, and when he looked back, her gaze was fixed out the windscreen. “That works for me. Though I think you should keep sex out of your eyes from here on in, just to help me out.”

  Pained, Felix’s gaze strayed to her nose, her lips, down to the milky skin of her shoulders. It almost hurt, how badly he ached to touch her.

  Her glance was swift. “Yeah. No more of that.”

  Right, so no looking at Regan. “You probably shouldn’t climb up my waist again, then,” he murmured, then added, “Left.”

  She nodded stiffly.

  The edgy silence was broken minutes later by the eruption of Felix’s sneezes. Eight of them, back to back, the half-screams filling the car like a series of moderately horrifying frights. Only after he wiped the water from his eyes and stuck his head partially out the window, did he realize that Regan was laughing.

  “Not funny,” he muttered, but he smiled at the sound.

  “That’s the best sneeze I’ve ever heard. The guy driving next to you screamed, too.”

  He pressed a palm to his forehead, easing the pressure in his sinuses. “I’m sure it’s why I don’t get invited to Christmas parties.”

  She liked that. A lot. And then she admitted that she often started hiccoughing when she was tired and the awkwardness passed.

  At least his allergies were good for something.

  The ritual of the Christmas tree held Regan’s anxiety at bay. A temporary fix, but she wrung it of every distraction it offered. First, there were big decisions surrounding which decorations to buy. Much consideration required. Then there was hauling the tree from Felix’s car up to the apartment and setting it up on the balcony. Lots of attention needed there, especially after she locked her watery-eyed assistant indoors to start hanging up the lights. After that, decorating the tree demanded her complete focus. Tiny golden bulbs had to be strung evenly, flickering both close to the surface and buried deep in the pine needles. On went the red and silver baubles, then the strings of red beads, cascading just so, and the loose ribbon bows that dripped down the branches. She even hung a couple of ribbons from the kumquat to drag out the process.

  It took most of the afternoon, broken up with cool glasses of ice water and several coats of sunblock. For those few hours, she almost thought if she just kept her back turned, she could avoid the thoughts queuing up impatiently behind her.

  Then Felix appeared at the balcony door, holding up the plate of toasted sandwiches he’d made for dinner, and she was suddenly nose-to-nose with the most demanding thought of the bunch.

  He was falling for her.

  Regan’s eyes skirted his as she took from the plate. “Thank you.”

  “It’s looking good,” he said with a gesture towards the tree. Then he sneezed.

  She winced. “I’ve just realized the extent of my selfishness. We only got the tree for me. And now I’m going to Byron Bay. So we cut it down for one night.”

  “I’ll give it to my neighbor. Her kid will go mad over two trees.” Even as he smiled, wariness curbed his gaze. He’d confessed his feelings and received no indication of Regan’s in return. Served him right. She tried to hold down panic. Surely he knew better than to become emotionally invested in someone like her. He was supposed to be smart.

  When he sneezed again, she used the excuse to shut the balcony door with him on the inside. Confused, she sat shakily on the bench and ate. The resinous scent of pine tried to calm her, as did the peach and lavender sunset out towards the bay, but she ended up with her knees drawn to her chest and her forehead pressed between them.

  God, this was a mess.

  Felix wasn’t supposed to fall for her. Just as she wasn’t supposed to glow with pleasure that he had, but no man had put her desires before his own before. None had actively wanted her to be happy, but Felix had taken her to buy a tree, despite his allergies, and had spent the afternoon syncing lights to a song he’d rather didn’t exist. She wanted it, and he could cope, so that was that. Small acts on the outside, but they meant the world to her. Add the fact that he’d turned his holiday season upside down to give her emotional support, that her belly flipped every time he smiled, and that undeniable tension was only growing stronger in her muscles, hot, yearning...well, Regan was in serious trouble.

  They had reached barbed wire boundaries.

  No making a move on your sister’s best friend. It was a universal rule that went both ways and it would be wrong to get in the middle of Stevie and Felix’s lifelong friendship.

  Another rule was applicable here. No changing the dynamic before Stevie knew Regan was in town. It would be shameful to break the news of her return and follow it up with, “Oh, and we kind of started something, you know, while we were both concealing the fact that I was even here.”

  Stress consumed her. She stood because she could no longer sit.

  She was going to see Stevie tomorrow night.

  Her sister. Her family. The girl who had crept into her room when they’d first been fostered, snuggling under the covers because she knew Regan was scared of the dark. The girl who had explained that their mother had loved them so much, she’d given them up so they wouldn’t take on
her addictions. The girl who had tried to understand why her sister was pulling away, reaching out no matter how many times Regan knocked her hand aside.

  The girl who had ultimately been abandoned by her entire family.

  Regan’s heart convulsed, overcome with sorrow, and she gripped the balcony railing until the sun-heated metal burned her palms.

  She needed to see Stevie right now. She needed another eight years before she’d feel strong enough. She was going to see her tomorrow and the wait would surely drive her crazy.

  “Felix,” she said, marching inside to find him screwing a hook into the wall. He spun around with several other hooks clamped between his lips. “I’m going out.”

  He looked surprised and spat them into his palm. “I’ll join you.”

  “I’m ready now,” she said, nervous energy propelling her to the door.

  “You mean now, now, or five minutes and a change of clothes from now?”

  She was halfway into the hall when she answered, “Now.”

  To his credit, Felix was right on her tail as she strode along the corridor and down the apartment building stairs.

  “Where to?” he asked, taking her agitation in his stride.

  “Somewhere with music and cocktails.”

  With those instructions, Felix led her through a city braced for Christmas. They passed shopfront windows lavished in festive displays, sidewalk trees alight with glittering specks of silver and gold, and fat-stuffed Santas ringing bells for charity on street corners. The evening air had lost its heat, settling in that delicious zone where the skin recognized no temperature at all. They walked through the spices of garam masala, the thick weight of Napoli sauce, and the sweet chill of an ice-creamery. The subdued harmonies of carols echoed from a bluestone cathedral and then finally, he was leading her up a quiet cobbled alley lined with three-storey brick apartments, and she could have sworn they were headed for a dead end until she saw the concealed opening to the left, and there through a large metal gate—a jazz club.

  “Good work,” Regan murmured as they stepped inside.

  The cozy little venue had a plush, red curtain at the door, carpeted floors, and small tables clustered by the stage. It was classy with red-backed chairs and atmospheric with dim lights of red, blue, and green. A band was mid-set, the piano and bass letting loose a smooth, velvety tempo that permitted the hum of casual chatter.

  Seated at a table for two, Regan perched straight and tense with the first cocktail off the menu and Felix leaned back with a locally brewed stout. He looked around as he drank, casual, easy, as if he didn’t mind that she’d dragged him out of his apartment with no notice.

  “Sorry,” she said, sipping from the sugary rim. “I was going a bit crazy.”

  “I don’t mind.” And he smiled gently.

  Her sip became a gulp. This would be much easier if she weren’t dealing with perfection camouflaged in a nerdy shirt. Except, she kind of liked his shirt. She could envision running her fingers along the printed text over his nipples, pouting slyly and asking what she’d have to do to convince him to fix her computer.

  Good God, this kept getting worse.

  “I don’t think I can see Stevie,” she said, focusing on that terrifying problem.

  The smile slipped. “Why not?”

  Fear locked her teeth together. She shook her head.

  “We both know it’s why you’ve really come back, Regan.”

  “I can’t tell her why I left.” Regan spoke around the hard lump of dread in her throat. “She won’t understand. She won’t forgive me. She’ll blame me for breaking apart the family we’d found; for ruining her chances of staying with them.” Felix gazed at her with sympathy soft in his eyes as she voiced her greatest fear. “She won’t believe any of it.”

  “Why wouldn’t she?”

  Because the Barnetts hadn’t believed her. Sickened with fear, she’d worked up the courage to tell them only to be punished for spreading wicked lies. Their disbelief had almost broken her.

  “I’m not implying that I know your sister better than you do,” he said slowly, leaning forward. Kind words, for they both knew he did. “But she’s never assumed the worst in people. She’d have no reason to think you’re lying.”

  She clutched the stem of the cocktail glass. “I’m scared.”

  In answer, he reached out and curled his fingers loosely around her wrist, thumb swiping her skin. The reassurance in his simple touch eased the dread in her throat and plumped the need for him in her heart.

  “This isn’t the only thing messing me up.” Eyes lowered, she said, “I need your problem solving skills.”

  “Okay.” He set his beer down with his other hand, forearm resting on the tabletop. Strong, muscled, and dusted in dark hair. Lord, give her strength.

  Regan looked up. “I’m falling for you too.”

  His grip on her tightened. The shock that stunned his features was chased away by pleasure. His eyes shone grey in the mood lighting. “Really?”

  “No.” She pointed a finger. “This isn’t good. This is bad. React like it’s bad.”

  He frowned quickly. “Oh, no.”

  “Felix,” she said, pained. “You’re a thinker. List all the reasons it’s bad.”

  His frown lightened, but didn’t disappear. “Stevie doesn’t know you’re here.”

  She nodded. “It wouldn’t be right to go behind her back, not more than we already are.”

  “And if things went sour, it would put her in an awkward position she doesn’t deserve.”

  “Yes.” Regret solidified in her gut.

  “Then there’s the standard no-dating-your-friend’s-sister rule,” he said.

  “Mm-hm.”

  His frown became more serious. “And there’s the fact you’re carrying more baggage than you’re letting on—and I’m thinking it damages the way you connect with people.”

  Regan frowned back. “Okay.”

  “Then there’s our compatibility. Who knows how we’d align in the long term.”

  “You’re thinking this through more than I did,” she muttered.

  “And then there’s my addiction to work and the fact that neither of us are interested in relationships.”

  “Stop with the thinking, already.”

  He leaned back, removing his hand and taking the beer with him. “That’s why I don’t intend to do anything about it right now.”

  “Then why did you look pleased?” She resented that she sounded sullen.

  “There’s an argument for everything, Regan. If we wanted to do this, I could list all the reasons it’d be a good idea and you’d be equally convinced by the end of it.” He paused. “Do you want to hear them?”

  She hated not being able to ignore the cons. “No.”

  “Okay, then.”

  As Regan stared at him, dismayed by their conclusion, the band eased into a seductive, brassy rhythm. Several people shouted their appreciation and she distracted herself by scanning the crowd, lingering on those who had stood to dance. Then, with her chin in her hand, she eyed Felix.

  He caught her watching. His brows rose and he extended a hand.

  “Definition of a bad idea,” she said, but accepted because she so rarely danced.

  His fingers closed firmly, moving her away from the table to an open space of carpet. The tempo was slow, the horns voluptuous, and Felix drew her hand up to his shoulder, bringing her body near. Nerves washed through her as his other hand settled on her lower back, large and confident, pressing her against him. She liked the way he held her, no half-measures. He had her in his arms and made sure she knew it.

  The cotton of his shirt teased her nose, filling her with a scent she was rapidly associating with safety. It warmed her like a steaming cup of tea after a day on the ice roads, unfurling in her chest and easing the discontent from her mind. She shifted closer, allowing her breasts to find his chest and cheek to follow suit. She felt she could stay here for a hundred years and be prey to nothing bu
t age.

  And desire.

  Felix’s hand slipped, an inconsequential little dip that had the tips of his fingers grazing her bottom, and her sense of safety parted, keeping her close but allowing seduction to slide into the embrace. His pulse pounded beneath her ear, a steady quickening beat. Such a rhythm could consume her, driving her body faster towards bliss. At the thought, lust flared like a lit match and her thoughts grew hazy.

  His cheek settled on her hair and her eyelids fell shut.

  “Why did you kiss me that day?” he asked, lips resting above her ear.

  She didn’t have to think. Behind the gym shed, wagging like it was any other day. Keeping it cool, pretending to be in control. As if she hadn’t intended to run away that night, half-mad with the terror of it all going wrong. Felix’s presence had eased the terror, for a time. “I wanted to know how a good guy tasted.”

  He swayed her gently and her stomach slid over a new bulge in his shorts. No pretending it wasn’t there, so she pressed a little harder as she swayed back again. His body curled into hers on a shaky inhale. “Any different?”

  “Yeah,” she said, tilting her head up to him, remembering him as the innocent youth she’d trapped against the wall and demanded kiss her.

  “I seem to recall you cried,” he murmured. “So it can’t have been great.”

  “I hadn’t tasted anything like it.” Nor had she since. “You tasted sweet, like kindness.”

  “Kindness?” Felix smiled a little. “I haven’t been told that before.”

  “Maybe it was a teenage Felix thing.” Her gaze fell to his lips, but resistance denied her craving. She tried to sound casual as she said, “Might be different now.”

  Felix swallowed and his forehead brushed against hers. The frames of his glasses ran smooth and sleek along her eyebrows. “Seems like something I should know.”

  Regan’s breathing faltered.

  “Could you check?” he whispered.

  Her willpower gave up, stepping aside with palms raised. “Okay.”

  Felix dropped his mouth to hers. Soft lips, closed and blessedly tender. For a few moments, he held still and she battled the hunger demanding she devour him whole. She wanted the intensity of passion—the mess, haste, and gluttony. She burned to know what it would be like, but no, greediness would not be her ally. Once let loose, it wouldn’t give a damn that seducing Felix was a bad idea.