I'll Be Home for Christmas

by Lori Wilde

  “Removal of—hic—the stimulus.”

  “What’s the stimulus?”

  Raising her chin, she met his inquisitive stare, felt her pulse thump hard in her wrists. “You.”

  “Me?”

  “I hiccup when I get—hic—nervous. You’re making me nervous—hic. Go away.”

  He scowled. “This is annoying.”

  If he thought this was bad, he should try public speaking with a bad case of synchronous diaphragmatic flutter. But she didn’t say that, of course. Her backstory was none of his business. “Tell me about it.”

  “I don’t mean you’re annoying,” he amended. “I mean it’s annoying that I can’t help you.”

  Ah. He thought it was his place to cure the world. Alpha He-Man Protector Dude. His nickname was getting unwieldy. He had to stop being so cool.

  They stood gazing into each other’s eyes, the dying light of day sliding past the window.

  Gabi hiccupped, and Joe Cheek, aka Alpha He-Man Protector Dude, snapped his fingers and said, “I’ve got it.”

  “Huh?” She blinked. “Got what?”

  “The cure.”

  “Wha—”

  But she didn’t get the word out because he yanked her into his arms and sank his mouth down over hers, a warm, moist mouth that dissolved her bones, her heart, and her resolve. Which, granted, was pretty shaky in the first place.

  Kissing.

  He was kissing her! Why was he kissing her?

  Why ask why? Just go with it.

  But she was frozen, breathless and pulsating.

  When was the last time she’d been kissed like this? So forcefully, so certain, so perfect. Seriously, had she ever been kissed like this? She wracked her brain. Nope. Definitely not.

  Gabi sucked in a startled breath as snippets of half-formed thoughts pushed through her mind.

  No.

  Wait.

  Stop.

  Ooh and aah.

  And yes.

  And oh good Christmas but he tasted fantastic. Peppermint. Coffee. Heat. Moisture. Ooh-la-la.

  His lips were rough in a deliciously outdoorsy, He-Man kind of way, and his big strong hands spanned her waist. But the pressure of his mouth was surprisingly gentle. Incredibly gentle. Lurking underneath his controlled restraint she felt a jolting current of masculinity so potent it deserved a “Danger: Live Wire” label.

  She didn’t mean to do it, but she couldn’t help herself. Headily, she kissed him back, opened her mouth and traced his lips with the tip of her tongue. Venturing slowly, testing the waters, keeping her eyes wide open, watching him as he watched her.

  Curious.

  Surprised.

  Pleased.

  A ragged groan rolled from his throat, and for one long, sweet moment their mouths fully merged and they surfed the heated kiss together.

  Gabi’s head was a carousel, whirling, spinning, twirling. Such a ride. What a thrill. Was this really happening? Could she be dreaming?

  Either way, she wasn’t arguing. It had been so long since someone had kissed her. So long since her heart pounded, on fire with want and need.

  She actually wanted something. A huge step in Gabi’s world.

  Without warning, he pulled away, stepped back. Ended the kiss. Party over. Boo.

  He peered down at her. “Well?”

  She blinked, still caught in the daze of their kiss. “Well what?” she asked, her voice coming out fuzzy and dreamy.

  “Did it work?”

  “Did what work?”

  “The hiccups.”

  Oh that. She’d forgotten about them. Gabi put three fingers to the lips he’d branded so thoroughly and realized something miraculous.

  Her hiccups were gone.

  CHAPTER 3

  Christmas isn’t a season. It’s a feeling.

  —Edna Ferber

  Half a second after his mouth touched down on hers, Joe knew he’d made a bad decision. The electrical charge jumping between them was hot enough to flash-fry shoestring potatoes.

  Dammit. He thought he had his impulsivity under control. He’d been singed, and the last time that happened things had not turned out so well.

  His goal had been simple. Stop her hiccups. She looked so miserable and sounded so defeated, he’d thought, Startle her. Startling away the hiccups had been the cure of choice in his family when he was growing up. He’d particularly enjoyed ambushing his sisters Jenny and Katie, and their friends, by jumping from a closet or from behind the sofa and yelling, “Boo.” Although that usually ended up with him getting chased around the house for his efforts.

  But he couldn’t very well leap from the shadows and yell, “Boo” at a stranger. So he’d kissed her instead.

  Yep, Cheek. Keep mining that vein. You’ve almost got me believing that’s really why you kissed her.

  All right, so maybe the thought of kissing her had first popped into his mind when he had seen her sitting by the window in Perks, those full, red lips wrapped around a forkful of rich, moist cake.

  She put him in mind of Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. The same sophisticated innocence. Way out of his league for sure, but that only made her more irresistible. One glance into her sharp blue eyes and he’d thought, Uh-oh, trouble.

  Trouble, yes indeed.

  Right now his lips were tingling like he’d downed a bottle of Sriracha. Except sweeter. Hot and sweet and tingly.

  “Wow,” Trouble said, reaching up to finger her own lips. “No more hiccups.”

  He’d be lying if he claimed he wasn’t a little bit proud of his cure, and he couldn’t help smirking.

  Her eyes widened. “That’s why you kissed me? To get rid of my hiccups?”

  A casual shrug, a nod of his head, anything to keep her from seeing how much she’d rocked his world. “Startle reflex,” he explained. “It makes you catch your breath and stops the hiccups.”

  “I see,” she said.

  Her soft, sexy voice caused his body to harden. It was all he could do not to take her into his arms and kiss her again just to see if the first time was a fluke, but he was famous for his nonchalant cool. Kisses didn’t throw him.

  Not usually anyway.

  But now? Damn, he was thinking hot, uncontrollable thoughts.

  “Well …” She gave a shaky laugh and ran a hand through her tawny hair to tousle it. He remembered how her hair had felt against his hand—silky, smooth, thick, and soft. “Thank you.”

  “First time I’ve ever had a woman thank me for kissing her,” he mumbled. “I consider myself lucky you didn’t slap my face.”

  “I might have,” she admitted, a tinge of pink crawling over the apples of her cheeks. Her lovable blush lit him up inside, burned him to a crisp. God, but she was cute. “If you hadn’t cured my hiccups.”

  They peered into each other’s eyes. Twilight seeped in through the skylight, casting shadows across the room. She shifted away from him, folded her arms over her chest, dropped her gaze.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, unable to believe he’d kissed her when he didn’t even know her name.

  “Gabrielle.” She extended a dainty palm. “Gabrielle Preston. My friends call me Gabi.”

  “Gabi.” He sank his hand into hers. She had a firm handshake. Confident underneath the blush, bouncing back quickly from the blindside of his kiss. “How the hell did someone like you land in Twilight?”

  “What do you mean?” She crinkled her adorable nose as if he’d said something confusing. “Someone like me?”

  “You stand out around here like an award-winning Thoroughbred in a Shetland pony parade.”

  She ducked her head, but she smiled. He’d pleased her and he wanted to do it again.

  “I needed …” She trailed off.

  What did she need? He studied her face. Tell me and I’ll get right on it.

  Nervously, she nibbled her bottom lip.

  His pulse leaped and he leaned in. “Yes?”

  “Space.” She took another s
tep back. “I needed space.”

  “From what?”

  She glanced out the window and his gaze followed hers to their reflections in the glass as they stood side by side in front of the sink. They fit perfectly in the window frame and looked for all the world as if they were a couple. He wanted to whip out his cell phone and snap a selfie of this mirror moment.

  “Your sister and I swapped houses,” she murmured, and turned away from the window. “We both needed to get away from our lives.”

  “You mean sort of like Cameron Diaz and Kate Winslet in The Holiday?”

  “Exactly like that.”

  “This is just my opinion, but I never bought into Kate Winslet hooking up with Jack Black.”

  “Why not? I thought they were cute together.”

  “ ’Cause she’s all upper-crust class and he’s frat boy gone to seed.”

  She lowered her lashes, cast a sidelong glance his way. “They do say opposites attract.”

  Joe eyed her and wondered if, like him, she was calculating how very different they were from each other—urbanite versus country dweller, laid back versus on guard, controlled versus impulsive.

  “So my sister,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to talk about, “she’s okay?”

  “As far as I know. Why? You expecting trouble?”

  You’re trouble. Mainly because Gabi Preston was making him feel things he shouldn’t be feeling. Hot, sexy things.

  “She’s my baby sister,” he said. “I always expect trouble.”

  “You’re very involved in her business.”

  “Older brother.” He tapped his chest with two fingers. “It’s in the job description.”

  An odd expression crossed her face, as if she felt she’d missed out on something by not having an older brother to defend her, but that was probably in his imagination. For all he knew she could have a passel of older brothers.

  “Katie’s fine.”

  “How do you know? Did you talk to her today?”

  Gabi sighed. “Last night. I talked to her last night. She was well.”

  “How do you know Katie?” he asked, his tone coming out more challenging than he intended, but while he knew Gabi Preston was one hell of a kisser, that was all he knew about her, and he was as protective of his sisters as the next guy. Maybe more so.

  “Katie and I met on Pinterest. Your sister and I have never seen each other in person.”

  “Seems weird to me.”

  “Not really. We really hit it off and have been e-mailing each other almost daily for the last couple of months. Although the yurt came as a surprise. Katie doesn’t strike me as the yurt type.”

  “She wasn’t until she met Matt.” Joe frowned, scratched the nape of his neck. “You two didn’t exchange pictures of your houses before you made the swap?”

  “We wanted an adventure. Trade spaces. No questions asked.”

  “Sounds risky.”

  “I trusted her.”

  “Why?”

  “We like the same books and movies.”

  “Flimsy things to build trust on.”

  “Actually it’s not,” she said. “You can tell a lot about people by their favorite stories.”

  “Yeah?”

  “What’s your favorite book?” she asked.

  “I’m not a big reader.”

  “Movies?”

  Joe shifted, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. “I don’t like to sit still for that long.”

  She looked at him as if he’d just announced he was from Mars. “Seriously? You don’t read or watch movies?”

  “I’m too busy living life to get caught up in other people’s stories.”

  “Wow,” she said. “Just wow.”

  Joe couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d failed an important test. “What did Katie get in exchange for the yurt?”

  “A condo in—” She broke off, wagged an index finger at him. “No, no, you’re not going to trick me into telling you where she’s gone. If Katie wants you to know where she is, she’ll tell you.”

  Joe growled in frustration, plowed a hand through his hair. He didn’t like this. Not one bit.

  Gabi notched up her chin, curled her hands into fists, holding her ground. “The best I can do is ask her to tell you where she is.”

  Gumption. The woman had it in spades. He admired her loyalty even as it irked him. Joe suppressed a smile. “Fair enough. Just give me your word Katie is safe.”

  “I live in an upscale gated community—”

  “In a big city.”

  “Yes,” she said. “In a major U.S. city.”

  Joe shook his head. “That is so not Katie.”

  “Which was precisely the point. We both wanted …” She paused. “We both … needed a change in our lives, something to jolt us awake, something to make us reconsider whether we were happy with our chosen paths.”

  “Katie has been lost since Matt died,” Joe murmured. Last year a few weeks before Christmas, his sister’s longtime boyfriend had been killed in a snow skiing accident. Paired with Gramps’s car collision that summer, his sister had had a tough time healing. Her layoff from Lockheed was the latest blow. He couldn’t really blame her for taking off.

  “Yes, Katie told me about Matt. And now that I’m in Twilight, surrounded by all this holiday spirit, I get why she fled town for Christmas. It’s so cheery, which is what I was looking for, but there’s got to be so many painful memories for Katie here.” Gabi’s empathetic face tugged at something deep inside Joe.

  He canted his head, studied her for a long time. He couldn’t help wondering what she was fleeing for the holidays. “This was actually Matt’s yurt and he left it to Katie in his will.”

  “So he was the free spirit?”

  “Mostly, but Katie was different when she was with Matt.”

  “How so?”

  “More grounded. Earthier.”

  “Because she liked being that way or because that’s who she had to become in order to be with Matt?”

  It was a strange question. “Katie seemed happy with him. Why?”

  “No reason.” Her shoulders went up in a casual shrug, but her breathing quickened, her chest was rising and falling erratically.

  Had Gabi changed herself to be with a man? She stirred his interest and he wanted to know more about her. “What do you do for a living?”

  She twisted her mouth to one side. “Right now? Nothing.”

  He was curious about that too. Far more curious than he should be. Her life was none of his business. Except he’d kissed her and she’d knocked the pins out from under him and all he wanted to do was kiss her again. Plus he’d promised Katie he’d look after her guest. Those two things gave him a vested interest.

  “How do you make a living?” he asked.

  She shrugged, rolled the hem of her sweater between fingers painted with candy canes. He had an overwhelming urge to lick her fingernails and see if they tasted like peppermint.

  “Are you jobless?” he asked. “Or just taking a break?”

  “Both.”

  “Intentionally unemployed then.”

  “Something like that.”

  “And this is an indefinite situation?”

  “For now.”

  “Katie’s not living in a cardboard box under a bridge is she?”

  Gabi laughed. “It’s a really nice cardboard box.”

  “Ah, I get it. Trust-fund baby trying to find herself.”

  She wiped a palm over her mouth and shifted her gaze away. He’d struck close to the bone.

  “What did you used to do before? Or have you been living on a trust fund all these years?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it. I’m still processing.”

  “Got fired, huh?”

  “No …” She shifted her weight, and let her gaze drift around the room as she looked everywhere but at him. She had an appealing profile, slender nose, full lips, forgiving chin. What was her big secret? “I’ve ne
ver had a paying job.”

  “Ever?” Joe had been employed since he was fifteen, working for Gramps on the farm.

  “I’ve been in school.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-three.”

  “And you’re still in college?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Flunked out, huh?”

  “Dropped out.”

  “Hey,” he said. “We’ve got something in common.”

  “You dropped out of college?”

  “End of freshman year.”

  “Too much partying?”

  “Something like that.” He didn’t know her well enough to tell her the real reason he’d quit school. Besides, the past was the past. No point poking around in it.

  “Do you ever regret the decision?” she asked.

  Joe shrugged as if he didn’t give a hoot. “I don’t waste energy on regrets. Besides, my life’s been a whole lot more interesting than it would have been if I’d gotten that business degree.”

  “How so?”

  Joe ticked off his jobs on the fingers of both hands. “I’ve been a welder, an oilfield worker, a bartender, a truck driver, a fisherman, a building contractor …”

  “And now you’re a Christmas tree farmer?”

  “By default. It’s my grandfather’s farm, but I’m looking after the place while he’s in the rehab hospital. Everyone else in my family wanted to pull the plug on the Christmas trees this year.” Joe was unnerved to hear his voice grow thick. “But I love Christmas and Gramps too much to let that happen.”

  “Ah,” she mused, and gave him a look that said, I like that you’re getting emotional over your family. “That’s what you meant by ‘we.’”

  “Yes,” he said. “Gramps and me.”

  “Are you married?” she asked, then slapped a palm over her mouth as if she hadn’t meant to ask it.

  He grinned. “Do you think I would have kissed you if I were married?”

  “Some men might have.”

  “Not me,” he said, his smile slipping and his jaw hardening. He might have dated a lot of women, but when he was with someone, he was with her. One hundred percent. Serial monogamy, his bachelor buddy Steve called it. Whatever. Joe wasn’t a cheater. He knew how bad it felt to get cheated on.

  “Not even in the interest of curing hiccups?” she asked.

  “Not even.”