by Taylor Hart
Nervous angst coiled in his lower gut. Not only was she amazing, she was smoking hot, too. That Mrs. Claus outfit was more than cute. His thoughts went to thinking about that kiss. They still hadn’t talked about it.
Grant let out a rippling laugh. “It sounds like this holiday fruitcake you and Tom talked about might be just the curse the rest of the Kent men needed to find love.”
Love. The word didn’t feel exactly right yet, a bit like a grinding pebble in his shoe he needed to get out, but he wanted to keep running around the track because he had to beat his last time. “Maybe,” he said.
Something was off about Tara. He couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but something was different. Not that things didn’t tend to be different after eleven years, but still. He had that gut feeling that made him the best quarterback in the league. The feeling allowed him to get an idea of his surroundings, but more importantly, it allowed him to be in sync with the field, the ball, the defense coming at him, and the offense waiting for the ball to be in their hands in the end zone.
“Gotta go. Good luck,” Grant said.
“You too, bro.” Will hung up.
Almost an hour later, he was still in the women’s shoe section when an agitated Tara came over, pushing a cart full to the brim. “Will, why haven’t you answered your phone?”
“Man, I’m sorry.” He motioned to the shoes. “I can’t pick out women’s shoes.”
She laughed. “Will, everyone is waiting up front for you, and I have a guy coming to take a picture of you with everyone, carts full of toys.”
This upset him. “No.”
Screwing up her face in confusion, she stepped back. “What do you mean no?”
“I’m not doing this for a publicity shoot. The Santa acting, fine, you had it all on camera. But buying these kids toys is not for show.” He moved to the end of the shoe aisle and put some red dress shoes in his cart. Then he thought the lady might need running shoes, so he walked down the aisle and snagged a pair of those in size eight and a half, too.
Tara haphazardly grabbed a pair of black heels and put them in. “She’ll need a sensible pair for church.”
Will agreed with her.
Tara faced him. “Will, that’s not reasonable. You hired me to help your image. This—” She gestured to all the carts. “—is an amazing way to have Denver love you.”
“No.” He frowned at her. “Not this.”
“Will, this is gold. Do you understand that?”
He was tired of being an image, tired of just being a PR stunt, tired of letting the owner of the Storm push him around. “The line is drawn here.” He said it in a dramatic, Jean-Luc Picard way. “No further. Here.” The line had been taken from the movie First Contact when the Borg were about to invade Earth and they had to hold them back. He didn’t know if she would remember it.
Her face went blank at his outburst. Just as he started to wonder if he’d offended her, she threw back her head and laughed a crazy laugh. When she looked up at him, he saw tears in her eyes. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve heard you do that?”
Her craziness must have rubbed off on him, because he did it again. “The line is drawn here. No further! Here!”
Not to disappoint, she shook with more giggles. Finally, she wiped beneath her eyes. “I never would have guessed that you’re kinda the same after all these years.”
He gently put his hand over hers on the cart. “Just me in here, Tear Bear. Just me.” He pointed to his chest with the other hand.
Their eyes held, and he found that he was sinking in green aqua. Softly, he reached up and touched the side of her cheek. “I know what color your eyes are, finally.” For years they’d shared a joke that he would search the world for the exact color.
Narrowing her eyes, Tara let a smile play at her lips. “Oh yeah? What color?”
“A place in Maui, where there’s this black sand beach hidden away—I was there with Tom last week. The pools of water that are protected from the surf, off to the side, have this water. When it is hit by sunlight just the right way, it is the exact color of your eyes. I thought of you last week, when I was there.”
Her face reddened and she pulled back from him. “Will, you should …” She shook her head. “Will, you shouldn’t have kissed me like you did earlier.”
Will shrugged. He didn’t like this direction, but he’d admit he was coming on a bit strong. “I wanted to.”
“I gathered that.” She put her hand up. “Everyone’s waiting. Let’s focus on the kids, shall we?”
He pointed at her. “I’m serious. I don’t want the publicity for this. Please.”
Looking unsure, Tara said, “I can cancel my guy, but you know there’s a whole team of people waiting for us at the register. They might have texted, twittered, who knows.”
Will wished he would have thought about that sooner. He grunted. “Let’s go buy this stuff and head to my place to wrap it, and we’ll see what the damage is.”
Chapter 7
To Tara’s amazement, only a few pictures leaked onto social media, and when Will asked the team to please take them down, the pictures all magically disappeared. Of course they did; people wanted to be helpful to Will.
Tara marveled at the way Will commanded their little group of Christmas elves. He let them all follow them to his house, which was in Castle Rock, right outside of Denver, in a gated community. When they got there, you would have thought Will had been expecting the President of the United States. There was a full Christmas party planned for them.
“What is this?” Tara asked as they walked in with everyone.
Will grinned. “I don’t know. I just thought, why not do good for people who do good all the time?”
They lugged in all the packages and laid them all out on tables in what Will called his library. It was really more like a ballroom, maybe half the size. Maybe she would tease him about really reading this many books.
They got busy wrapping all the gifts and organizing them. Will even had different people assigned to take them out Christmas Eve. Everyone was partnering up. Tara loved every minute of it.
Will put his arm around her. “You’re my partner. We got twenty to drop off.”
How could she say no? She’d already agreed to be with him until the holiday. “Okay.”
Will had some amazing Mexican food catered for dinner. After they all wrapped presents, they headed into a huge dining room that would be appropriate for entertaining a whole football team. They dished up and chatted with everyone.
The Salvation Army workers kept remarking to Will that this was the best Christmas ever. Will waved off the compliments and turned it back onto them. “No, you guys give all year long, and you even wanted to give more tonight when I needed help.”
Halfway through dinner, Will had a guy who worked for him take envelopes around to each of the volunteers.
Tara watched as they opened them and gasped. “Two hundred dollars!” one guy called out.
“Please accept my gift to you all.” Will had a huge look of satisfaction on his face. Gently, he reached out and squeezed her hand. “I have a gift for you, too. I found it earlier and thought you might be interested.”
Nervous butterflies swarmed in her gut. What was he talking about? This was crazy. She munched on her food and thought it was the best food she’d ever eaten. This must be what women meant by the roller coaster of pregnancy. Sometimes she wanted to barf, and the next second she couldn’t get enough food.
Will stood and clinked his glass.
“Speech!” one of the guys yelled.
Will pointed at him. “Listen, thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Today I had the fortunate moment to remember what Christmas is really about, and I owe that to Tara Lighthouse, ladies and gentlemen.”
They all clapped. Tara stood and said, “The truth is that helping get Christmas for the kids was all his idea.”
They clapped louder.
Will grinned at her. “I remembered my
mother and how she would get all six of us boys together, even after our dad passed away and things were hard. We would find people who needed service at Christmas. We would help them. She had dogged determination in regards to service.” A tear fell down his cheek, and he swiped it quickly. “It’s something I need to remember, so thank you to you all. This has been amazing.”
Everyone clapped and stood. As Tara clapped for Will Kent, she realized she’d always loved this fun-loving, crazy kind of guy. She’d just forgotten how much she loved him.
No. She couldn’t feel all these things for this man. Not when she was just divorced and pregnant.
Looking up at her, Will winked and stood. “The night’s festivities are over. Please take the gifts you have agreed to deliver. Thank you.”
It took about an hour of chatting with the helpers before everyone had cleared out.
It was almost ten and Tara had become a pumpkin, her energy completely gone. She even lay on the couch and told Will she was calling an Uber, but he told her he would take her home.
His fingers brushed her hair. “Tear Bear, do you want to just stay here tonight?” His hand trailed down her shoulder and then down into her hand.
The funny thing about being so physically exhausted was that Tara felt like she was in that funny place between real and not real. A dreamlike place. “I never wanted to tell you no, Will,” she whispered.
He sat by her on the couch and stroked her head to shoulder again. “Then why did you turn me down?” he asked. “And don’t tell me that it was because I was going to the Naval Academy, because I still would have married you.”
She felt so content and cozy as he kept caressing her head. Vaguely, she wanted to stand and leave, but between rushing around all day and carrying an unborn child, she was zapped. “Because I loved you too much.”
He stopped briefly. “What do you mean?”
“Will, please don’t … I don’t want to hurt you.” She sighed, letting herself slip off to la-la land.
Chapter 8
Will knew she was asleep when she sighed, then fell into deep breathing. Now his audience was gone, he could drop the cheerful facade.
Eleven years ago, when she’d said she wouldn’t marry him, her rejection had sent him spiraling, feeling like an unanchored ship, coasting through the seas with nowhere to go. Sure, he’d found his way, but the pain of it all had been brutal. Regret surged through him as his hand was gently on her head and he had a bird’s-eye view of the past eleven years in front of him. He’d never stopped loving her.
Today, doing this together, had been the most fun day he’d had with a woman maybe ever. Dang, was that sad or what? And he was supposed to be a playboy? Ha!
He didn’t understand why her energy was low, but he knew he couldn’t just take her home. So he picked her up, arms beneath her knees and back, and carried her up to his room. Laying her carefully on the gigantic king-sized bed, he didn’t bother with anything other than pulling the covers back and getting her comfy. She’d been sick; maybe this was residual from that.
Carefully he tucked her in and then stood, watching her, basking in the magic of her hair flared out on the pillow, the magic of just being with her. His heart warmed, and he wanted so much more.
He picked up the envelope he’d been saving for a long, long time. Opening the envelope, he let the ring fall onto his palm. The small diamond was the only one he’d been able to afford. For some silly reason, he thought it would be fun to give it to her now.
Too bad it didn’t feel right. Like showing her he’d kept it might make it trite. She’d want to know why he’d kept it with all the other women he’d dated, right? He didn’t want to answer those questions. He slipped it into his jacket pocket and grabbed some sweats out of the drawer. He would see her in the morning.
Chapter 9
When Tara woke the next morning in Will Kent’s oversized king bed, she felt warm and cozy. She wasn’t too surprised to be here. She remembered falling asleep and knowing he would have space for her in this palace. Since there wasn’t a real hurry to get someplace, she just lay there. Maybe it was weird to stay here. She would have forced the issue of going home if she hadn’t been so blasted exhausted.
Turning on her side, she saw flakes of snow coming down out of the sky. It was beautiful, cozy.
She thought of Will yesterday, all of the kids, the Salvation Army group, shopping, dinner. It’d been an amazing day, the kind of day she’d never thought she’d have. Not this Christmas, anyway, and especially not with Will Kent.
The sudden urge to vomit assaulted her and she pushed the covers back, jumping out of bed and rushing to the bathroom. She barely got there before she heaved into the toilet. Luckily, it wasn’t much. She flushed the toilet and cradled her head in her hands, commanding herself not to be dizzy.
Tara gripped the edge of the huge countertop to pull herself up. The bathroom was like everything else in this house: grandiose and very much Will Kent style. Turning on the faucet, she used her hand to rinse water into her mouth. Cold water tasted like heaven. She rinsed and then drank a few sips. After catching her breath, she stared into the mirror and thought about being pregnant.
Her hand went to her abdomen. It wasn’t like she was showing at all. Nervous thrums went through her body, as if she could feel a little heartbeat along with her own. What was she going to do? She still didn’t know. She knew she would have to tell Zeke. She wished she could run from him, but deep down she knew the right thing to do would be to tell him. That would be the responsible thing to do.
It was also the dangerous thing to do. After watching him dismantle her business client by client, telling them all kinds of lies about her and destroying her reputation, she knew that he’d use this baby as leverage. It scared her.
She put her hand over her eyes and gulped in a breath, trying not to cry at the spike of emotion. Dang it! She slammed her hand against the counter, then winced when it started throbbing. What would she do?
Unbidden tears once again filled her eyes as she felt another round of barfing coming. She sure wasn’t strong at this moment. After a session of dry heaving, she once again gulped water.
There was a knock at the bathroom door. “Tear Bear, good morning.”
Nervous energy rushed through her. She looked awful, her hair all a mess and her face pasty from nausea. She turned and splashed more water on her face, calling out, “Coming!”
When she emerged from the bathroom, Will was holding a tray loaded with pancakes, eggs, and fruit. He’d set everything on the little table in his room, and she felt very princess-like. She smiled at him. “Is this how you treat all your ladies?”
The happy look on his face flipped into a frown.
She knew she’d misspoken. When she got to the table, she put a hand on his forearm. “I’m sorry, this was really nice. Thank you.”
He stared at her hand on his arm, then flashed his gaze up to meet hers. “The way you touch me kinda gives me the impression that you still have it for me.” He wagged his eyebrows. “Admit it—you do.”
Any worry she’d felt about hurting his feelings slipped away. “I told you, I’m not in a position for a relationship, Will. We’re doing all this as professionals, right?” She sat, pondering that he’d just made her breakfast and that it wasn’t professional to stay at his house.
Will waved a hand into the air in dismissal and gingerly put two pancakes on a plate. He added a scoop of eggs and fruit and handed it to her. “Sure, sure, Tear.” He flashed her a grin. “You were tired last night.”
Taking the plate, she smiled at him. “Thank you.”
He nodded and dished himself up a plate. As he sat, he clasped his hands together. “You want to pray or should I?”
“Would you mind?”
Will crossed himself and said, “Thank you for this food, Lord. Thank you for our friendship rekindled, and thank you, Lord, for my good mom, who taught me life lessons. Thank you for placing opportunity in front of us yester
day. Thank you for Tara. Amen.”
Stunned by how he’d been thankful for her, Tara hesitated to eat. She watched Will shovel in a huge bite of eggs.
Tentatively, she picked up her fork and took a bite of pancake, hoping the pancake would be easier on her tummy than fruit or eggs. Yummy warmth and the syrupy taste exploded into her mouth. “This is so good,” she said, taking a bigger bite. It was crazy that at one moment she wanted to puke and at the next she was ravenous. So that was what she spent the next five minutes doing, adding more butter and syrup and relishing the taste.
Will laughed, his mouth full. “Dang, girl, I don’t know how you eat like that and stay so little, but it’s cute.”
How it must all look to Will? She scoffed and put a hand to her messy hair. Good thing it didn’t matter, because she wasn’t lying to him—there was no way a relationship would work right now. “I must look awful.”
“No.” He cast her a circumspect look, making her laugh.
“Yes, I do.” The syrup and the pancakes had already gone a long way to make her feel more normal. She figured they must be giving her some type of euphoric kick, because she giggled and pointed to him. “And you look stinking amazing. Thanks a lot, Will.”
He looked down in confusion at his tight red Under Armor shirt and jeans. “I don’t know what you’re taking about. Sure, I may have been up at five to do my running and weights, and showered, but Tara, you always …” He broke off and let out a curse word under his breath.
She frowned. He was kinda acting funny. “What’s wrong?” Now she really was feeling self conscious.
After a long moment of hesitation, he shrugged and met her eyes. “You always look good. Even with morning hair, you still look good.”
