I'll Be Home for Christmas

by Lori Wilde

  Truth be told, he was edgy about Gabi shutting him down. He understood why she’d done it, but he didn’t have to be happy about losing her before they ever really got to explore their potential as a couple.

  Not caring that it was dark, he turned on the floodlights and whacked away at the trees, working out his muscles, pushing himself hard. Manual labor helped clear his mind.

  Immediately, he felt better.

  He chopped down another tree, tossed it on the trailer with the others he’d just cut. He couldn’t change the past. All he could do was learn from his mistakes. He paused to wipe sweat from his brow, cast a glance across the road, saw a small slim figure on a teetering ladder, struggling to string Christmas lights on the yurt.

  Trouble.

  Joe’s heart skipped a beat. If he were smart, he’d hump his butt into the house and not rush over to help her out. Not when he was feeling raw and exposed.

  Then again, when had he ever taken the smart choice?

  He tossed the axe onto the trailer and stalked across the road.

  With nothing to light the way except the illumination from the security light on the telephone pole several yards away, Gabi was standing on the top rung of the ladder on tiptoes with her back to him, a staple gun in one hand, a rope of Christmas lights in the other. She wore faded jeans, a green hooded sweater, and high-heeled fashion boots that were all wrong for the job. The boots, however, put her sweet ass right at his eye level. Man, what a view.

  The sight of her stirred him. A lot. His body went hard in all the right places, and all he could think about was last night when he’d held her in his arms and made love to her.

  Apparently, she hadn’t heard him come up behind her because she was mumbling under her breath. He could still make a clean getaway if he pivoted right now and walked off.

  Just go.

  He didn’t move.

  She looked so determined to do the impossible—string Christmas lights on a yurt—plucky, resilient, adorably sexy, that she put a smile on his face without even trying.

  “Not to be a downer,” he said, “but your mission is doomed.”

  She let out a squeak and spun around so fast that the ladder toppled sideways. Joe leaped to snatch her before she hit the ground, and managed to grab her by the waistband of her jeans.

  The ladder collapsed, ripping the Christmas lights from her hand. She still had hold of the staple gun and she was breathing heavily. For a second, he held her suspended by her pants, getting a nice view of her pink thong panties.

  “Put me down, please.”

  “Will you talk to me a minute if I do?”

  She squirmed. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “Last night—”

  “Has come and gone,” she assured him. “Look, it’s okay. I get it. You’ve got family drama coming out your wazoo. It’s none of my business. I’m not invested. So I’m sure you’ll understand why I want to steer clear of it.”

  “And me?”

  “Well, not you per se, but everything that comes with you.”

  “Too much baggage for the girl from LA, huh?”

  “Way too much baggage for someone who is in town for a short while. This is my vacation. Remember? If I wanted drama, I would have stayed home and told my parents I quit law school.”

  “So last night, this morning …”

  “Was nice. Very nice.”

  “Nice?”

  “Okay, spectacular, but don’t get the big head.”

  “It was pretty damn spectacular for me too, Gabi. That’s why I’m pushing. There’s something here.”

  “But we can ignore it.”

  “Can you? Because I sure can’t.” Joe didn’t know what he was thinking. She’d made it clear she was done with him, but he had to test her resolve. He stepped closer, slipped his arms around her, pulled her to him. Their knees brushed and then their thighs, he spanned his arms around her waist, lifted her up on the deck while he stayed on the ground. At this level, they were eye to eye.

  Her legs dangled from the deck and her nipples were so hard he could see them through her bra, shirt, and jacket. He was plenty hard himself.

  She inhaled audibly. His pulse kicked up.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Seeing how much I can get away with.” He grinned and moved closer.

  She put up a palm. “Do not kiss me.”

  “I wasn’t going to.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “I was going to stand here until you kissed me.”

  “Not going to happen.”

  “You sure?” He leaned in to sniff her neck. She smelled so damn good.

  “Positive,” she said, her voice high and reedy.

  “So that’s it? No more kissing. No more doing what we did last night and this morning?”

  “That’s right.”

  He clicked his tongue, shook his head.

  “What?”

  “That’s such a shame.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because you’re the best I ever had.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Even better than catching the Christmas spirit is allowing the Christmas spirit to catch you.

  —Unknown

  What was a woman supposed to say to that? Gabi gulped.

  Joe’s gaze cradled hers. “Just thought I should tell you.”

  “But you’ve been with—“

  “My share of women,” he conceded, “and none of them can hold a candle to you.”

  The way he was looking at her was so darn romantic that she was finding it really hard to breathe evenly.

  “I’m not going to go to bed with you again. Your life is a knotted mess and I’m just untangling my own. This is … we are … too complicated.” She expected him to protest, to kick up a fuss, but he surprised her.

  “All right.” His amicable voice, full of smile, oiled her resistance. “But I still want to hang out with you.”

  “Even if we don’t do it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I enjoy being with you.”

  “Oh. Even if we don’t—”

  “Even if.”

  “Wow.”

  “Doesn’t mean I’m not going to try and change your mind though.” He stepped closer, his amazing scent surrounding her. His dark eyes lowered and tuned in on her.

  Her limbs loosened. Her mouth parched. Her body trembled. The hair at the back of her neck stiffened. Her resolve slipped. Her palms burned. Her mind reeled. But at least she didn’t—thank God—hiccup.

  “What do you need, Gabi?” he whispered.

  Need? Well, right now, she needed a muzzle because all she wanted to do was kiss him.

  “I need … I need …”

  “Yes?” He leaned in closer.

  “I … I …” Her mind raced. She wanted to give in, to drag him toward the bed, but she didn’t want to look wishy-washy. She made a decision to break things off before she lost her head … and her heart, and she was sticking with it. “I need a Christmas tree.”

  An amused eyebrow shot up on Joe’s forehead. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place? I can handle that.”

  “If you want,” she said, seemingly unable to stop herself, “you can help me decorate.”

  “Anything else?” His hot gaze roved over her body.

  Gabi ran a finger around her collar. “That’s it. Well, maybe I’ll share my Oreos with you.”

  “Are Oreos a euphemism for—”

  “No. Tree. Decorations. Cookies. That’s it. Take it or leave it.”

  Joe studied her. Long and hard and serious. She couldn’t recall anyone looking at her in quite that same way before. As if she was a mystery he could never solve. It made her feel exotic and powerful. Two qualities she rarely associated with herself.

  “I’ll take it.”

  “You get the tree, I’ll open the packages of decorations.”

  “I’ve got some chocolate-cov
ered pretzels I picked up from the Twilight Bakery,” he said.

  “Bring them. I’ll make coffee.”

  “Be right back.” He left, humming.

  Gabi started humming the same tune and pushed aside the voice that told her this was a mistake. But she liked him.

  A lot.

  A whole lot.

  All the more reason to keep her distance. Was she playing with a downed power line?

  Apparently.

  Damn if she could help herself.

  They’d been working on the tree for an hour and Gabi didn’t seem to have the slightest clue how to decorate a tree for color and balance. Joe got the feeling her family hadn’t really celebrated Christmas when she was growing up. He asked if they were atheists. She’d laughed and said, “No, lawyers, remember.”

  Like that explained everything.

  He realized how much more there was to know about her. “Have you heard from your parents?”

  She had laughed, but hurt was rolled up in the sound, a curl of pain and grief masked by the forced ha-ha-ha. “It hasn’t been six days yet.”

  “Six days?” He cocked his head, perplexed.

  She explained how she’d placed her own private bet on how long it would take for her parents to notice she was gone. The notion that they cared so little about this amazing woman made him angry. He was glad he would not have to meet them. If he met them face to face, he’d have to tell them what he thought.

  “That sucks,” he said.

  A resigned shrug hitched up her shoulders. “I’m used to it.”

  He gritted his teeth to keep from telling her he’d take care of her, that he’d notice if she were gone for five minutes. That he’d love her if she gave him half a chance.

  That last thought stopped him cold.

  Love?

  He had only started getting to know her. He couldn’t be in love. It was just the spontaneity of his ADHD. He was better at controlling impulses these days, learned how to recognize the signs—restlessness, jumping into things too quickly, becoming easily distracted. Bringing awareness to his behavior was often enough to rein him in. But his feelings for Gabi were big and expanding fast and he had no idea how to control that. Or if he could even trust those feelings in the first place.

  Mentally, he blocked the thoughts, unable to deal with them in the moment. She was too close to him, her scent clouding his judgment. He stepped back.

  “You’ve got too many big balls at the top,” he said. “The bigger ornaments work better on the lower branches.” He waited for her to make a joke about big balls; he’d lobbed her the perfect pitch, but she simply rearranged the ornaments to his specifications. Had he hurt her feelings by correcting her tree-decorating abilities?

  “Tinsel?” Joe extended a package of glittery silver streamers toward her, a peace offering.

  She didn’t answer him or take the tinsel. Has she heard him? Or was she ignoring him?

  “Tinsel?” he repeated.

  She was rocked back on her heels, staring at the lights, zoned out in her own little world.

  His gut tightened uncomfortably the same way it had when, as a kid, he’d eaten too many pork chops at the family barbecue.

  “Aw c’mon, Trouble. Are you ticked off at me? I didn’t mean to slam your tree-decorating skills. Look, I never knew anyone who didn’t celebrate Christmas. When you grow up in a place like Twilight and all you hear about from the end of September to December twenty-fifth is nonstop Christmas, it’s hard to imagine that other people don’t experience that.”

  “Joe,” she said. “I’m not mad at you. I wasn’t even listening, but now that you have my attention, I’m worried about you.”

  “Why?”

  “You seem stressed.”

  Well hell yes, he was stressed. The most gorgeous woman in the world was standing next to him and all he wanted to do was take her to bed.

  “Don’t worry about me. Tinsel?”

  “Thank you.” She took the box of tinsel from him, the tips of her fingers brushing against his and lighting him on fire. What power she had over him!

  Gabi paused, gazed off in the distance, and worried her bottom lip with her teeth.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” Her smile was faded as worn blue jeans and he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was disappointed in him somehow. Joe straightened his shoulders, pulled in his chin.

  “You sure?”

  She dialed up the wattage on her smile, but he could tell it was only for his behalf. “Fine as Twilight.”

  “Something’s eating on you. Wanna tell me what it is?” Did he really want to get into that? He wasn’t much of one to dig into other people’s business.

  She shook her head, but her eyes said, Coax me and I’ll tell you. “I just want to enjoy decorating this tree. Can we do that, please?”

  Okay. He would get into the decorating. For her. “Pass me those toy soldier ornaments.”

  Her grin was real this time. She’d chewed off much of her rosy pink lipstick and only the outer edges of her mouth were still colored and she passed him the toy soldier. Joe stepped to the tree, searching for the perfect spot to place it. Surprisingly, the soldier ornament was made out of metal instead of the usual plastic. He needed a sturdy branch to support the weight.

  The silence between them was companionable, but he could still tell something was eating her. “It’s Tatum. That’s what you’re stewing on.”

  “I don’t trust her.”

  “Hey, neither do I.”

  “She’s going to hurt you.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time,” he mumbled, grabbed a pretzel from the box on the coffee table and popped it into his mouth, more for something to do than because he really wanted a chocolate-covered pretzel.

  “Let’s talk about something else.” She straightened, pulling her spine up tall as if giving herself an attitude adjustment. He admired how she could do that. Shift her negative emotions so easily, and focus on something more productive. “How is your grandfather?”

  “Shook up by what happened, but physically okay.”

  “I’m so glad. Is he still going to be able to come home for Christmas?”

  “Not sure.”

  “What are you going to do when he comes home? Will you stay and continue to run the farm?”

  “For a while I guess. Until he’s able to handle it on his own.”

  “What if he’s not able to come back?”

  “Cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  “If he does come home, will you stay or go back to Florida, or somewhere new?”

  He slouched one shoulder against the fireplace mantel. “I don’t think that far ahead.”

  “Because of the ADHD?” Carefully, Gabi draped single strands of tinsel, concentrating on the task with seriousness reserved for important things.

  “Maybe. Probably.”

  “Are you ashamed of it?”

  “The ADHD?” he asked.

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “I’m not ashamed of it,” he lied. He was trying not to be ashamed of it. Did that count? “But I want you to see me for me, not some acronym. Labels. People love labels. But labels are limiting. Labels alter perception. Labels,” he said flatly, “can hurt.”

  “I can tell,” she said, putting down the tinsel and coming toward him. “People prejudge you.”

  “Everyone does it. Human nature. But some people, like you,” he said, realizing it was true as he said, “can easily see past all that nonsense.”

  “It’s because I like to believe everyone is good deep down and if I look past the hurt and the defenses and the labels, I’ll find that goodness.”

  “Even Tatum?”

  “Especially Tatum. You can tell she’s been deeply hurt at some time in her life, and I just bet there’s a professional out there that would gladly slap an acronym on her.”

  “That’s kind of you to say so and you’re right. Tatum has ADHD too and
she had been through a helluva lot. Her mother had a lot of emotional problems. Made bad choices with men. Couldn’t sustain long-term relationships. One of the guys she was married to took an unhealthy interest in Tatum … Well, I’ll let you fill in the blanks.”

  Gabi put a palm to her cheek, looked genuinely distressed. “I can imagine. My parents are defense attorneys. I’ve been exposed to horror stories. It’s terrible what some human beings are capable of.”

  “The details are about as horrific as you might expect. Tatum shows signs of PTSD from that. Honestly, it’s a miracle she functions as well as she does.”

  “You feel sorry for her.”

  “Did,” Joe corrected. “When we were younger. But just because life dealt her a shitty hand of cards doesn’t mean she gets a pass for bad behavior. And I’m pissed at her that she’s doing the same thing to Casey that her mother did to her. That’s why I let her stay in the rent house. To keep an eye on Casey.”

  “You love that little girl.”

  “Like she was my own flesh and blood,” he said fiercely.

  “You really should look into legal counsel about your rights,” Gabi said. “Especially if you think Tatum is an unfit mother.”

  “She makes bad decisions, but as far as I know, she’s clean and sober. Casey is healthy and seems to be doing okay. I doubt I stand much of a chance of even getting visitation rights, but I will take your advice.”

  “Either way, your love for Casey will always tie you to Tatum,” Gabi said.

  He couldn’t deny it. For better or worse his past had made him who he was and Tatum was part of that past. Did he wish he had a giant eraser for a do-over? Sure. But that wasn’t the way life worked. “To some degree, yes.”

  “I respect that about you,” she said. “It makes you a kind person.”

  “My brother Mac thinks it makes me a dumbass.”

  “Yes, but Mac hasn’t walked a mile in your shoes, has he? He doesn’t have children of his own yet. Has no idea how much you love Casey.”

  “You’re such a diplomat.” Joe couldn’t resist touching her, cupping her cheek with his palm.

  “I try.” She gave him a rapid-fire grin that short-circuited his good intentions to honor her wishes.