I’ll Be Home for Christmas: An Out of Line Novella

by McLaughlin, Jen

  I’ll Be Home for Christmas

  An Out of Line Novella

  Jen McLaughlin

  Copyright © 2017 by Jen McLaughlin

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form of by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes, if done so constitutes a copyright violation.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  Cover Designed by: ProBook Premade Book Covers

  Interior Design and Formatting by:

  eBook ISBN: 978-0-9907819-6-7

  Print ISBN: 978-0-9907819-7-4

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Out of Line series:

  1. Carrie

  2. Finn

  3. Carrie

  4. Finn

  5. Carrie

  6. Finn

  7. Carrie

  8. Finn

  9. Carrie

  10. Carrie

  Coming Next…

  On the Line

  See How It All Started…

  Out of Line

  About the Author

  Also by Jen McLaughlin

  Out of Line series:

  Out of Line

  Out of Time

  Out of Mind

  Out of Line Novels:

  Fractured Lines

  Blurred Lines

  I’ll Be Home for Christmas

  This one goes out to all the Out of Line readers who have been asking me for more. This is for you. Thank you for reading my stories, and wanting more.

  One

  Carrie

  I rolled over in bed, instinctively reaching out for warm skin. I found it and smiled, my eyes still closed. No matter how long we’d been married, or how many times I woke up beside the man I loved with all my heart, I never tired of feeling him there, beside me, every morning.

  I never would.

  If we’d learned anything from the tragedy that struck our little family a couple of years ago and almost tore it apart, it was that life was too short to take anything for granted. There were no guarantees. Nothing was a given. Not even waking up next to the man you loved.

  Not even waking up at all.

  The second I touched his skin, he stirred, his eyes slowly opening. Reaching up, he rubbed his face, skimming over his chiseled jawline and scruffy skin that I love so much. By the time he lowered his hands and finished yawning, his bright blue eyes were on me.

  “Morning, Sunshine,” he murmured.

  I smiled. “Morning.”

  “Where’s…?” He glanced around the room, his eyes going wide. “Wait. Did we actually wake up before Susan and Cory?”

  “Mmhm.”

  “Well, then,” he rolled on top of me, cradling his weight on his elbows, but letting his lower half touch mine—and oh, what a lower half it was. “I’m not one to lose an opportunity like that…”

  Oh, that’s something I knew very well.

  Just like I knew him.

  We’d enjoyed almost eleven years of marriage and two children. A relationship that started with him secretly guarding me in college, and then me falling in love with him before finding out he’d been lying to me the whole time. Injuries, PTSD, breakups, and gunshots.

  So much had happened between us, yet feeling him in between my thighs was as electrifying as the first time he’d laid there.

  Perhaps even more so.

  His mouth kissed a trail down my neck, wasting no time with sweet kisses or foreplay. When you had an almost eight-year-old and a baby who could wake up any second now, there wasn’t time for hesitation or sweetness. You took what you got when you got it.

  As often as you could get it.

  His fingers skimmed up my thighs, lifting my nightgown as they shifted inward, and leaving a trail of fire in their wake as he bit down on my shoulder just the way I like it. When he touched my core, I gasped and spread my thighs more, letting him have full access to my body.

  I was all his.

  Forever and always.

  He cupped my butt and slid under the covers, disappearing. Within seconds, his mouth was on me, and I was burying my fingers in his hair and holding on for dear life because he was about to take me on a ride I’d never forget. I never would.

  His tongue rolled over me, stroking me with the perfect amount of pressure to make my heart race, and my legs turn to jelly. I rocked my hips against his mouth, losing myself in him. He held onto me, making sure I didn’t go too far as he stroked harder, faster. His fingers teased my entrance, and I came, stars bursting in front of me in beautiful multitudes of red.

  He climbed up my body under the covers, dropping love bites the whole way. When he settled over me, he cupped my face, kissed me gently, and then thrust inside me with one hard, full stroke. The contrast of that motion with his soft lips on mine, barely touching me, was enough to make me quiver with need. He buried his face in my neck, moving inside me with sharp, hard movements, each stroke taking me higher and higher until I was gasping his name and scraping my nails down his back.

  “I love you, Ginger,” he whispered, angling his hips a little more as he drove me to the finish line with a finesse he’d never lost, and only ever improved on.

  I tried to tell him I loved him, too, but I couldn’t breathe, let alone talk. I gasped, arching my back, closing my eyes as the pleasure took over me, bringing me higher and higher until I was sure I could fly. Finn was right there with me, soaring through the skies as he came, too, my name on his lips like a prayer. We clung to one another as we came down, neither one wanting to be the first to let go. After a few minutes, our hearts calmed, and our breathing evened.

  For a minute, I thought maybe he’d fallen back asleep, but then he lifted his head and grinned down at me with the cockiest grin I’d ever seen, which was saying a lot when it came to Finn. “That was one hell of a wakeup.”

  “Yeah, it was,” I said lazily. “But we should get moving soon. She’ll be in here any minute now.”

  “Don’t worry, I locked the door last night,” he whispered, nibbling on my neck. “We’ll have a warning.”

  As if on cue, the door handle jiggled.

  He groaned dramatically and dropped his head on the pillow next to mine.

  I giggled.

  “Daddy?” Susan called.

  “Yeah, baby. I’m here.”

  "Six more days until Christmas!" she cried, jiggling the handle. "Let me in."

  “Daddy’s getting dressed,” he called out.

  "I'm hungry," she said, her pouting about the lock out situation clear even through the door that separated us. “Let’s go.”

  “Okay, go on down. I’ll be right there, and we’ll start cooking.”

  It was Saturday morning, which meant Susan and Finn would be making pancakes, sugared strawberries, and homemade whipped cream. There would be coffee for us, and Susan would have hot chocolate with cinnamon in it. She loved that, especially this time of year, with Christmas so close.

  “Hurry up, Daddy!” she called.

  Her footsteps retreated, and Finn l
ifted his head again. “Duty calls.”

  “Yeah, it does,” I said, smiling. “Can’t say I’m complaining, though. I’m hungry after that wakeup.”

  He grinned. “Me, too.”

  With a quick kiss, he pushed off me and headed for our bathroom, barefoot and naked. I enjoyed the view, in no rush to get up. Finn was cooking, so that meant I got to take it easy.

  Saturdays were my favorite day of the week.

  After a few minutes, he came out, wearing boxers and holding his phone. “Weird.”

  “What?” I asked, half asleep again.

  “Your dad called me.”

  I frowned. It was still early, only seven. “Did you call him back?”

  “Not yet,” he said, setting his phone down and stepping into plaid pajama pants. “I will, though.” He headed for the door. “Go back to sleep if you want. I’ll get Cory if he wakes up, and I’ll send Susan to get you when breakfast is ready.”

  I burrowed into the pillows. “Love you.”

  “Love you more,” he said with a smile, closing the door behind him.

  Yep. Saturdays were definitely my favorite.

  Two

  Finn

  “Wait, slower!” I called out, saving my daughter from pouring the entire container of whipping cream all over the counter. I supported the end, smiling when she managed to get most of it inside the bowl. “There you go. Perfect.”

  Cory babbled behind us, kicking his feet against the high chair as he shoved a tiny piece of strawberry into his mouth. I smiled at him over my shoulder and flipped the waffle iron. Susan had insisted on Belgian waffles this time instead of pancakes since they were more "Christmas-ey." Christmas music played softly in the background, and the tree shone brightly despite the sunshine streaming in.

  If Susan was out of bed, the tree was on.

  It was the golden rule in this house.

  The front door opened, and I stiffened. Only two people had keys to our home: Carrie's mom, and her dad. They didn't often use them, though, and last I heard, they were in D.C.

  So who the hell was coming in my house?

  I immediately went on guard, tapping Susan on the shoulder. “Stay here, baby, okay? Don’t come out unless I tell you. And don’t touch the waffle maker, it’s hot.”

  She nodded, stirring the whipped cream with a frown of concentration.

  Creeping toward the door, my hand instinctively went to my hip from my days as a bodyguard, but my gun wasn’t there. Hadn’t been ever since I traded in my security badge and cammies for a computer programming degree. Now I spend my days behind a desk instead of fighting bad guys on the battlefield and off it.

  And yet the urge was still there, to reach for it.

  Some things never died, I guess.

  I crept around the corner, ready to pounce, but Carrie’s parents stood in the foyer, shrugging off their winter coats that looked ridiculous here in California. “Mom? Dad?”

  They looked at me, smiling wide. We’d gotten off to a rocky start, with them not exactly approving of their rich daughter falling for the help, but over the years we’d gotten close.

  Closer than I’d ever imagined possible.

  “Surprise!” my father-in-law called out, removing his scarf.

  Mom sniffed. “Do I smell pancakes?”

  "Waffles," I said distractedly. It wasn't that I wasn't happy to see them, I was, but they weren't supposed to fly in to visit us until Wednesday morning. "Everything okay?"

  “Yeah, of course,” my mother-in-law said. “Carrie in the kitchen?”

  “She’s still in bed. Susan and I are cooking.”

  She brightened. “I’ll go see if she needs help while you two talk.”

  She patted my arm as she passed in a wave of Gucci perfume and high heels clicking on the marble floor. As soon as we were alone, I crossed my arms and squared off with my father-in-law. "What's up?"

  “I have a favor to ask of you.”

  I rested against the wall. “I figured.”

  "Senator Stapleton and I have a big event on Thursday. It came up last minute after we'd already granted most of our staff holiday time to spend with their families and travel." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s a big deal, and a great publicity opportunity, but I hate to go back on my word with our staff.”

  Stiffening, I crossed my ankles, too, knowing where this was going, and not liking it. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for my father-in-law, but I wasn’t comfortable slipping back into the uniform of a security guard. I’d left that life behind me years ago, and whenever I revisited it, bad shit happened. “Dad—”

  "I know it's short notice, and I know it's almost Christmas, but we'll still be back in plenty of time for Christmas." He tugged on his tie. "With primaries coming up, we can't afford to miss a chance to get the goodwill of the people at this tree lighting event. Especially with this current political climate."

  I snorted. "No one likes anyone right now. I doubt lighting a Christmas tree will change that…no offense intended, of course."

  "None was taken, but I intend to change that."

  Yes, he did. It was part of his political plan. It was a good one, and he stood a decent chance of winning because of it. But to leave my family this close to Christmas wasn't something I felt comfortable doing. "Where is it?"

  “Utah. It’s a critical state for us.”

  I groaned internally. “Mountains or desert?”

  “Mountains.”

  That explained the winter gear. My in-laws came prepared for winter weather. “I don’t know if Carrie will go for it.”

  “Go for what?” she asked from behind me, her voice soft.

  "Princess!" her father called, lighting up like he always did when he saw her. "Come here. Give your dad a hug."

  Smiling, she came down and hugged him, pulling back to say, “This is a surprise.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He patted her shoulders, making her red curls bounce. “Mom’s in the kitchen…cooking.”

  “God help us all,” Carrie muttered, making the sign of the cross. “What were you two talking about?”

  “Your dad wants me to travel with him to Utah to help guard him and Senator Stapleton,” I said, not bothering to beat around the bush. “Do you mind?”

  She frowned. “When?”

  “Monday through Thursday,” he said, smiling sheepishly. "We'd be back before Christmas Eve dinner, of course. I gave the employees time off before this opportunity came up, and I didn't want to go back on my word."

  “Of course not,” she said, frowning. She eyed me. “Finn?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What do you think?” She bit her lip, worrying about me like always. “Will you be okay?”

  “It’ll be quiet. It’s more of a formality than anything.” Her dad approached, rubbing the back of his neck. “Stapleton will have his guy, and I’ll have mine. You.”

  “No danger?” she asked slowly.

  "I'd be stunned if there was," he answered.

  I believed him.

  But still…

  It had been a while since I’d been in any situations that might spark up my PTSD, and I had no interest in revisiting that world again, but I highly doubted I would have to.

  “Are Riley and Noelle coming?” Carrie asked.

  “No, they’re staying home.”

  She hesitated, then looked at me. “I’m okay with it if you are.”

  “Carrie? A little help here?” her mother called out from the kitchen.

  Carrie sighed. “I better go.”

  I kissed her forehead and then she was off, leaving us alone again. I looked her father in the eye. “No shootouts? No assassins?”

  He shook his head. "Absolutely not. There are no threats on my life, yours, or hers. It's just a good publicity opportunity at a few children's hospitals and a fundraiser for natural disaster victims. That's it."

  God knows we’d had enough of those this year. “All right, I’ll do it, on one condition.�
��

  He cocked his head. “Anything.”

  “Watch the kids tomorrow night so we can go out with some friends before I leave.”

  His smile widened. “Deal.”

  We shook on it, and I mentally prepared myself to take a step back in time, to a world where I carried a gun, and protected another person’s life with my own who wasn’t my wife…

  For better or for worse.

  Three

  Carrie

  "But will he be okay?" Marie asked, her voice low despite the noise all around us. We'd excused ourselves to the restroom, leaving our friends behind. We slowly made our way back to the table now, arm in arm, as I filled her in on my father’s odd request to steal my husband away.

  “I guess he thinks so,” I said, frowning. “Dad says there’s no danger, and he promised me there would be no drama. But still, it makes me nervous.”

  “Me, too,” she said, nibbling on her lower lip. “Why not ask Hernandez and Ben? At least they’re police officers, and still in the game.”

  “I guess he wanted to keep it in the family? He trusts Finn. Maybe that’s why he went to him? I don’t know.”

  She hmphed.

  “How are things with you and Alex?”

  Marie frowned. “Over.”

  “What? Why?”

  “He’s just not the one.” She shrugged, not meeting my eyes. “He bored me.”

  That’s because the one she should be with was Hernandez, but neither one of them would be the first one to admit it. “Maybe that’s a sign.”

  She side-eyed me. “A sign of what?”

  "That it's time to stop dating the boring business guys you gravitate toward and try a new type of guy." Marie worked in stocks and trading, and she always went for CEO-types, then tired of them quickly. "Maybe…I don't know. A paramedic, or a firefighter, or…maybe a cop?"