“Surprise,” I said.
“You did all this…for me?”
“’Course I did.”
He took a moment to look around the living room. I swear he didn’t miss a single decoration. “You put the paper chain on this tree.” He did notice! “You remembered.” Walking around the couch to join me in front of the fireplace, he held my face in his hands and gazed into my eyes. His eyes radiated appreciation, gratefulness, and adoration. “I can’t put into words how much this means to me…how much you mean to me.” Pressing his forehead to mine, the tips of our noses just barely touching, he said, “I have never known a soul more beautiful than yours. I don’t deserve you, but, for some reason, the Man upstairs sent you to me.”
“And all my baggage.”
“I’m going to help you unpack that baggage. I love you, Maggie Harred,” he breathed. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
And then he kissed me. It always astonished me how each of our kisses had their own special meaning. This one didn’t just represent love in the present; it defined a love for the future, love for forever.
When we finally stopped kissing, I looked up at him, and said, “Well, you don’t think this is all, do you?”
“What else have you done?”
“Come with me.” I took his hand and led him to the kitchen.
“Ivy was in on this, wasn’t she?” asked Blake, narrowing his eyes playfully.
“Sure was. To hear her say it, you’d think I held her against her will, but I actually think there’s a smidge of elf deep down inside her. Deep, deep, deep down.”
We passed through the poinsettia-themed kitchen and into our little utopia in the courtyard. Blake soaked in the twinkling snowflakes before gazing up at the stars.
“Where the stars meet snowflakes,” he said, repeating what I had written in my note. “I don’t know how I can possibly—”
“Shh,” I said, pressing my fingertips to his lips. “You already have. The look in your eyes is all I need.”
The little gathering of famous snowmen caught in his peripheral vision. Pointing at them, Blake said, “I really hope you don’t expect me to start singing like the one that melts or the one that likes summer.”
“I mean, only if you want to,” I teased. “I may not stop you, and I might actually join in.”
He chuckled. “You always say I do too much, but this…Maggie… What you’ve done, makes what few surprises I have planned look, uh—”
“Perfect,” I supplied.
“Eh, I wouldn’t say that.”
“Anything you have planned will be perfect…as long as we’re together.”
“Oh, my Maggie.” He kissed me lightly. “Tomorrow, I’d like to show you something very important to me.”
“I can’t wait.”
*****
The next morning, Blake treated me to a Christmas Eve on the town. We went everywhere: ice skating; to see the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center and all of the iconic stores, including that little piece of holiday magic on 34th Street. Most of the places we visited, we simply walked hand-in-hand, enjoying the Christmas atmosphere and, oddly enough, the chaos that ensues from last minute shopping. I tended to believe being able to coexist quite happily with cranky shoppers spoke to the core strength of us as a couple. Everywhere we went, Blake continuously asked me if I saw anything I wanted. It was cute, but buying was the last thing on my mind. I was content just holding his hand.
When the sun started going down, Blake took me to what looked like just another city building. We didn’t go inside, but instead stared at it from across the street.
Gazing at the building with pride, Blake pulled out his phone and dialed a number. Handing me the phone, he said, “Hang up once you’ve heard the greeting.”
I took the phone and waited until I heard a voice on the other end. “Thank you for calling E. L. L. F. Dreams. How can we brighten your life today?”
I quickly hung up and looked at Blake. “E. L. L. F. Dreams?”
“Yeah, I chose the acronym. It stands for Eat, Life, Love, Freedom. It’s a non-profit organization I set up the year I took over as the Manx. ‘Course no one knows I’m behind it. I hear they like to refer to their unknown founder as Kris Kringle, and that suits me just fine. We take calls from people all over the globe. If someone knows of a family in need of food, we take care of it. If someone needs medical care, we’re there. You’ve heard the news where a child or an elderly patient is denied an operation because a panel of people obviously knows better, right? We give life wherever we can. As for the ‘Freedom’ aspect, well, we try to save people from oppressive situations. No request is too small or too grand.”
“This is what you alluded to during my job interview, isn’t it?”
Blake nodded. “This is where the Manx puts every penny of his cut of a particular heist. I don’t take any of it. Manx money goes right there. In real life, people need a Robin Hood now and then.”
I didn’t think I could love this man more than I already did, and yet, here I was, falling deeper and deeper in love. “Blake, this is…you are Robin Hood.”
“Minus the tights.”
I thought for a moment. “Would you ever consider, oh, I don’t know, dressing up as—”
“Not a chance. Now, what do you say to some hot chocolate and the best chocolate cake in all of New York?”
“I say, lead the way…and we’re not done talking about getting you in some tights.”
“Yes we are.”
“There’s still some negotiating to be had.”
“No, there really isn’t.”
This back-and-forth continued all the way to the café, where I finally gave up. What could I say? Hot chocolate and chocolate cake will always shut me up.
*****
Christmas morning. I woke up as giddy as a child. Blake was already downstairs and the smells of breakfast filled the old brownstone, clear up to the master bedroom. I put a quick comb through the bed-head, brushed my teeth, and slipped on a pair of satin red slippers to match my festive red and white snowflake patterned pajamas.
In the family room, the tell-tale signs of a visit from Santa were present. The cookies were gone, the stockings were stuffed, and there were presents beneath the tree that weren’t there last night.
I did all but prance into the kitchen. “Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas, my Maggie,” said Blake, immediately giving me a kiss. He had a spatula in his hand, which he didn’t hesitate to pop on my bottom before getting back to the stove.
“I see Santa was here.”
“Yeah, it was after we finally fell asleep,” he said huskily. “Heard some rummaging around downstairs…think he brought you a few things.”
“Which I did not ask for.”
“Well, that’s the thing about Santa. He comes through whether you make a list or not.”
“Did you actually put a plate of cookie crumbs there for me to find?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, flashing a gorgeous smile.
Oh, he was just too much!
After another amazing Blake-breakfast of waffles with strawberries, powdered sugar sprinkled on top, bacon, sausage, and freshly squeezed orange juice, we started opening presents.
I wasn’t sure what to get Blake for Christmas. It was the classic ‘What do you get the guy who has everything’ dilemma. I managed to find a couple of gag gifts—a spy kit and a fake safe-cracking gadget; he seemed to like the brown leather gloves; and he absolutely loved the train Lydia let me bring home. But I think his favorite gift was the handmade gift certificate guaranteeing his choice of fantasy characters, be it a Swiss maiden or French maid. I’m not averse to role play.
When it was my turn to open up presents, you’d think I’d never received a gift in my life. I couldn’t tone down the giddiness, it just wasn’t possible. Blake certainly didn’t seem to mind. To say he spoiled me would be an understatement. He gave m
e an ivory wool coat and a pair of exquisite red-soled heels that would make Ivy drool. Some of the presents were fairly practical, at least for our line of work, but to me, they were beyond incredible: my own pair of metal nunchucks and a sizeable pocket knife. My last present was a medium-sized box wrapped in silver paper. Blake crawled on the floor beside me.
“Ooh, you’re getting down here next to me for this one. It must be special,” I cooed.
“It might be,” said Blake.
I grinned and ripped open the box, only to find another box…and another…and another. The last box was a very recognizable blue with a white satin ribbon. Thankfully, it was a long box, and not the short, stumpy variety that might have made me panic, given how early it was in our relationship and how much we still had to overcome. I untied the ribbon, lifted the lid, and removed the suede pouch. Carefully emptying its contents, my jaw dropped and I stared in wonderment at a glistening diamond and sapphire snowflake bracelet in my hand.
“Oh my gosh, Blake!”
He took the bracelet from my hand and secured it on my left wrist. It was absolutely spectacular.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“Are you kidding? I love it so much! I’ve never seen anything like it!”
“And you probably won’t. I had it custom made to match the necklace your father gave you.”
And then, for the first time since I was seven-years-old, a tear found its way down my cheek. I touched the wet on my face, my hands shaking. “Happy tears.”
“I told you,” said Blake. “Nothing but happy tears.”
“Thank you so much!”
“I should probably tell you one more thing… There’s a caveat to this gift. Do you remember when I bought you all those jewels for when you’re playing Charlotte?” I nodded. “Did you notice how they never had you try on any rings?”
“I noticed I tried on everything but rings. Figured it was that unspoken ring phobia men have.”
Blake shook his head. “Not this man. You see, I’ve never given anyone a ring. I want to give one ring to one person one time in this life. The next piece of jewelry I give you will be the first and last time I ever give it.”
Oh my. Did Blake just pre-propose? I think he did. Our hearts had found their home with one another.
“Blake…” I breathed, and he kissed me.
That afternoon, Blake and I packed up the presents for our friends and headed to the hub’s building where Ivy was throwing a team-only Christmas party. The small group of us laughed, ate, drank, and exchanged presents. I finally witnessed Blake smoke Pike in a game of chess, where a delightfully tipsy Greg partook in Pike’s loss with playful taunts, amusing all, especially our typically stoic cohort, Ty. Watching everyone so happy, even Ivy—whose smile was wide and bright and beautiful—truly defined this time of year. I couldn’t imagine a single group having a more spectacular Christmas than our little patchwork family.
Chapter Twenty
New Year’s Eve, 7:00 p.m., Mankazian Mansion. Before stepping out of the limo, I went through my mental checklist once more, not that it would do any good remembering if I had forgotten something now. I guess it was a process my brain needed to go through.
-My cell phone. Check.
-‘Charlotte’s cell’. Check.
-Lip gloss, tissues, pocket knife Blake gave me for Christmas. Check.
-Earpiece. Check.
-Gun strapped on beneath my dress. Check.
-Remembering to breathe. Working on it.
Well, that’s it. Here we go.
It was almost déjà vu, walking into the same place where I last saw my father’s murderer. Only this time, I was on a mission with my team and ready for anything. Who knows? Maybe I would see him again tonight. May God forgive me if I did lay eyes on him.
Speaking of our team, the second my foot crossed the threshold of Mankazian Mansion, Ivy’s voice resounded through the earpiece and straight into my brain. “No freak-outs tonight, do you hear me? So help you if you flake, because I will kill you.”
“Thanks for the warning, but I’m good. Trust me,” I said strongly.
“If you’re half as good as you look, I might just believe you. You’re doing that gown proud, gnat.” Ivy’s voice was nearly lukewarm.
My silver, curve-hugging dress was tight enough to accentuate everything requiring attention, but fluid enough to let me move…or run, if necessary. There was a decent slit in the dress trailing up my right thigh, allowing perfect access to my gun, while still concealing its presence. My makeup was smoky, alluring, and my hair was sleek and silky. I actually felt the part of a lure tonight. It was oddly invigorating.
“Why, Ivy, are you saying I make an adequate lure?” I asked, already noticing a pair of older gents sizing up my rear end.
After a moment’s pause, Ivy finally conceded. “Yeah, you’re all right. Not as good as me, of course.”
Grinning, I, too, conceded. “Ah, but no one’s as good as you.”
I could almost hear the smile in her voice when she spoke. “So very true, little mini-lure, so very true. And stop trying to butter me up because it might work and I’d hate myself in the morning.”
Trying not to laugh out loud like a mad woman—after all, no one knew the voices in my head were actually real—I followed the slow-moving crowd into the ballroom. I held back a bit to take a gander down the hallway where the diamond was being kept.
“Two guards standing on either side of the door. One across the hall, and one on the staircase,” I quietly reported while crossing into the ballroom.
“We’ve got ‘em,” said Ivy. “Thanks for confirming, though. Ty forgot.”
“Bitch, I told you I couldn’t get a clear look before getting shuffled into the ballroom. You have the cameras. You can count them yourself.” Yikes. Ty was in a foul mood tonight.
Ivy just laughed. “Frustration looks good on you, Ty. You should try it on more often.” Apparently they had been engaging in a little back-and-forth before I had my earpiece in place.
“There was one less guard five minutes ago,” grumbled Greg, completely detached from the dramatics of Ivy and Ty. “I don’t like when they’re constantly changing the number of guards.”
“Eh, it makes the taking much more fun,” Blake chimed in, and I couldn’t help but feel relief at hearing his voice. “You look stunning.”
Those last three words were for me, and he said them while standing right behind me.
“Why, thank you,” I said, slowly turning around to face him. “You’re quite dashing yourself, Mr. Traverz.” I ran a hand halfway down the front of his tuxedo. In doing so, I spotted Blair just over his shoulder, posing for pictures with Colt and her parents, her mother appearing melancholy once again. This, however, didn’t stop her from glaring a dagger right between my eyes. I was sure the photographer captured her bitch brow and stink eye combo at least once. I got a weak charge imagining how she’d explain that picture to mommy and daddy. “Blair spotted us. She’s none too thrilled.”
“Well, maybe we should give her a show she won’t soon forget.” And with that, Blake bowed and extended his hand for mine. “May I have this dance?”
Hardly anyone occupied the dance floor, despite a phenomenal jazz band kicking out some killer rhythms.
Placing my hand in his, I said, “Absolutely.”
I couldn’t help but notice how damn sexy Blake looked while leading me to the dance floor. He was all man in full. All. Man. As predicted, we were the focal point until others joined us. I felt like Cinderella, minus the whole glass slipper conundrum.
Just then, thoughts of what’s to come invaded my otherwise happy mindset. Damn thoughts. I felt my brow furrow.
“What’s robbed your mind from me?” asked Blake. He knew me so well.
“How are you going to disappear without someone noticing? I mean, you’re Blake freaking Traverz. It’s not like you can fade out without at least someone seeing you…like beady-eyed Blair.”
; Blake smirked knowingly. “I’ve got it covered.”
Narrowing my eyes on him, I said, “What do I not know?”
“Oh, God, where to start with that one,” Ivy interjected. “That truly is the never-ending question.”
Blake shook his head, grinning. “You know how I relish surprises. Just wait. You’ll see soon enough.” He kissed the top of my head, effectively ending this conversation.
I accepted his answer, figuring it was simply a component to the plan he didn’t think I needed to know in advance, and that was okay. He did love surprising people, especially me, it seemed.
“Don’t worry, Mags. I think you’re in for a few surprises tonight,” said Pike jovially.
Blake’s muscled tensed up a bit. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Blake?” Ivy said with a mix of warning and concern.
He didn’t answer for a moment. “I’m fine, Ivy. I’m sorry, sweetheart. Momentarily ensnared in a thought.”
“I know how that is,” I said. “Happens to me way too often. Anything you want to share?”
At that moment, the band surprised everyone with an insanely steamy salsa beat.
“Maybe later. For now…” he said, moving in ways I’d never seen him move, “…we light the place up.”
Well. Hell. I knew Blake could dance—on a floor and a mattress—but, my God, I never expected he could move like this. Masculine, seductive, and totally reminiscent of a certain famous dirty dancer, only toned down a bit for this overly conservative crowd, which was probably a good thing for some of the old tickers in here. Had this situation been a handful of months ago, I would likely have been too trapped within my thoughts to let myself live lightly in such a dangerously delicate situation. But this wasn’t months ago, and I was no longer on my own. This was now, and I had Blake—my body knew him, responded to him. People on the floor continued dancing, but none moved quite the way we did.
Pike whistled; Ty may have chuckled, but I wasn’t completely sure if it was him or Greg; and Ivy purred approvingly, eventually adding, “I’m not sure who I fancy more right now. This is very confusing for my libido. And I like it.”
Watercolor Hearts (Watercolor Love Book 1) Page 27
