I'll Be Home for Christmas

by Lori Wilde

  His gaze hooked on her mouth, those beautiful lips. He remembered what she tasted like, craved another sample. In the glow of the Christmas tree lights, her blue eyes shone bright as beacons.

  And she smelled crazy good.

  “You’ve got a great smile, Trouble.”

  Her smile flickered, died. “Don’t do that.”

  “What?”

  “Say romantic things.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s too dangerous. I might start to believe them.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “We both know this can’t go anywhere.”

  “Do we?”

  “Joe.” Her chest rose high on a deep indrawn breath and she stepped back.

  “Gabi.”

  “I think we’re done decorating the tree.” She was dismissing him.

  “We haven’t put a star on top.”

  “I can handle that on my own.”

  “I can reach it easier than you.” He stretched his arm tall, showing her that his reach extended to the height of the tree.

  “All right, put the star on, but after that it’s time for you to go.”

  “Because you want me to kiss you as much as I want to kiss you?”

  She made a noncommittal sound. Not denying it, but not encouraging him either.

  He raised both eyebrows, extended a palm. “The star it is.”

  For the longest moment she stared at his hand. Finally, she retrieved the star-shaped Christmas tree topper, settled it on his palm, and then she shocked the heck out of him by going up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “That’s for being such a nice guy.”

  “Nice guys get pecks on the cheek,” he grumbled good-naturedly, and went to put the star on the tree.

  “Perfect,” she pronounced.

  He moved back.

  It was perfect, but he wasn’t looking at the tree, instead his gaze was fixed on her glowing face as she clasped her hands, fingers interlaced to her chest, and breathed a sigh of pleasure. He remembered that particular brand of sigh. She’d done it in his arms last night and early this morning. It seemed so very long ago.

  An achy longing took hold of him, a longing he didn’t know if he could dismiss. Joe glanced away, searching for something else to focus on besides her blissed-out face. That’s when he saw the snow globe for the first time, perched on top of the short bookcase.

  “Hey,” he said, crossing the room to pick it up. “The town in the globe looks just like Twilight during Dickens on the Square weekend.”

  “I know.” She hustled over, took the snow globe from his hands, clutched it possessively against her breastbone. “This snow globe is the reason I ended up in Twilight.”

  “No kidding?”

  She told him how she’d posted a picture of the snow globe on some girly social media Web site and that Katie had seen it and posted back that it looked like her hometown.

  “That’s how we came to swap house,” she finished her story.

  “The snow globe means a lot to you.” It wasn’t a question. He could tell from the way she cradled it that the snow globe was a cherished memento.

  “My brother, Derrick, gave it to me,” she said softly. “On Christmas Eve the day before he died.”

  Her pain was his. He felt it like a kick to the gut. “I’m so sorry.”

  She smiled at him past a mist of tears blurring her eyes. “It’s okay. It was seventeen years ago.”

  He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t know any words that could erase her pain. No matter how much time passed, grief could still creep up on you in those odd moments. Feel just as fresh and painful. Especially when it was connected to a holiday.

  “Derrick told me that we were the boy and girl holding hands and one day we’d find a town like this one to spend Christmas in.”

  “Ah damn, Trouble.” He drew her to him, snow globe and all, and just held her loosely in his arms.

  She rested her head on his shoulder, stroked the globe with a slender finger. He wished he had a magic wand so that he could say abracadabra and wave away all her suffering.

  Instead he comforted her the only way he knew how. Gently taking the snow globe from her hands, setting it back on the bookshelf, tipping her chin and kissing her. A tender kiss, meant to comfort, not inflame.

  But Gabi clearly wanted a stronger kind of comfort.

  She pulled his head down and deepened the kiss, flicking her hot little tongue over his lips, nudging against his teeth until he loosened his jaw and let her slide right on in. Her hands spread across his chest, fingers wide, kneading his pecs beneath the material of his shirt.

  He broke the kiss, hooked a finger under her chin, tipped her face up, and stared into those deep blue eyes. “You’re sending me mixed messages, woman.”

  “I know.”

  “You know what I want to do to you.”

  “What’s that?”

  He couldn’t help himself. He shot a glance at the bed. “But you put the brakes on us for a reason, and I respect that.”

  Gabi groaned. “Going all honorable on me, Cheek?”

  “I’m trying. Even though it goes against my nature.”

  Her laugh was tremulous, but so was her body and it sent a bolt of lust driving straight into him.

  “You make me want to break all the rules,” she confessed.

  Hell, he wanted her. Wanted her in every way imaginable. It scared him a bit, exactly how much he did want her.

  “I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret,” he said, surprised by how husky his voice came out and at the urgent need thrusting insistently through his veins.

  “Then make it so there’s nothing for me to regret.”

  Crap-a-doodle-do. What was a man to do? Closing his eyes, Joe let out a long-held breath that sounded far too shaky to be coming out of him. Landmines. Wherever he moved, he was bound to step on one. “Gabi …”

  She wriggled against him and started humming the sexiest Christmas song ever, “Santa Baby.”

  He groaned at the feel of her hips rocking against his. Gone. He was freaking gone. He shoved a hand up the back of her neck, threaded his fingers through her hair, and tugged her head back so he could brand her throat with his mouth. “Troublemaker.”

  A purr, hot and soft, rolled out of her.

  He moved from her throat to that incredible mouth, surrendering, waving the white flag. She had him dead to rights. Captured in her spell when outside a car horn started honking.

  Loudly and repeatedly. From over at his place.

  Ignoring it, Joe kept kissing her.

  And then, in accompaniment to the honking, his cell phone started ringing. He let voice mail pick up. The caller hung up. Immediately the phone started ringing again.

  “Someone seems desperate to get hold of you,” Gabi said, pulling her mouth away from his, her lips glossy from their moisture. “You better see who is sitting on their horn.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “What if it’s about your grandfather?”

  That did it. Thought of Gramps slammed the damper on his libido. He let her go.

  She straightened.

  So did he.

  Simultaneously, they ran hands through their hair, taming the mess they’d made of each other.

  He grabbed up his phone. “It’s Tatum.” He stalked to the front window, peeked out. Tatum’s junker sat in his driveway, still honking.

  “Drama,” Gabi said, “seems to be her stock in trade.”

  “With Tatum? Always.”

  “Ah,” Gabi said. “It’s all coming back to me. Now I remember why I put a moratorium on sex with you.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Our hearts grow tender with childhood memories and love of kindred, and we are better throughout the year for having, in spirit, become a child again at Christmastime.

  —Laura Ingalls Wilder

  On Thursday morning before she left the yurt to volunteer at the free clinic, her cell phone rang.

&nb
sp; It was Katie calling at five forty-five Pacific Coast time. Something must be urgent for her to call this early.

  “What’s up?” Gabi asked.

  “Your parents were just here.”

  “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry they woke you up so early.” Day seven. On day seven her parents had missed her.

  “You were right.” Katie laughed, an anxious, tinny sound. “They are steamrollers. I felt like I was being interrogated.”

  “It’s just their way.” Gabi pressed a palm to her stomach. “What did they say?”

  “They hadn’t heard from you in a while and were swinging by on their way to work. At five o’clock in the morning. Who does that?”

  “They work a lot of hours. Early mornings or late nights are the only time they have for personal stuff,” Gabi explained, part of her pleased that they’d taken the time to drive to her apartment. “I wonder why they didn’t just call or text me.”

  “They found out you dropped out of law school and I think they were gunning for a big confrontation. They looked pretty mad when they got here.”

  Gabi gulped past the boulder in her throat. “I do apologize.”

  “What for? You didn’t do anything.”

  “I put you in the middle.”

  “No you didn’t. Besides, it ended up being okay. I told them why we switched places and what you were going through and I could see the anger leak right out of their faces. Then they told me to tell you to take all the time you needed to sort things out and they’d be here to discuss it with you when you got home.”

  Gabi inhaled deeply, uncertain how she felt about that. “Did they want me to call them?”

  “No. They said they wanted to respect your need for space.”

  Hmm. Okay. Was that bad or good?

  “Do you think I should call them?”

  “I can’t tell you what to do,” Katie said. “But maybe you should give them time to process the information. Your mother kept repeating, ‘She doesn’t want to be a lawyer?’ as if it was the most foreign concept in the world.”

  Gabi bit her bottom lip, surprised to find she wasn’t hiccupping. Heck, she wasn’t even nervous. In fact, she felt relieved that her secret had come out.

  “I say enjoy the rest of your vacation,” Katie said. “And don’t worry about home until you are home.”

  “Live in the moment, you mean?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Thanks for the advice. Now go back to bed and get some rest. You deserve it after going toe-to-toe with Felicity and Gilbert. I’m off to the free clinic.”

  “Have fun,” Katie said, and hung up.

  Once upon a time, eager to please, she would have called her parents back immediately. But that was part of the problem, wasn’t it—that they were the sun and she was the earth orbiting them. Fine enough when she was a kid, but now? It was time she became the sun of her own universe. So she didn’t call and she didn’t feel guilty about not calling. Contact had been made, albeit secondhand. She wasn’t going to drop everything on their account and shortchange her plans.

  As a compromise, she sent her mother a short text, telling her she’d gotten their message from Katie and yes, they needed to have a long talk face-to-face when she returned home on Christmas night.

  Her mother texted back. It’s a plan. Heading N2 court.

  And that was that.

  The volume of patients at the free clinic surprised her. She hadn’t expected it to be so crazy busy. The staff was happy to have an extra pair of hands. They welcomed her warmly and set her to greeting the patients and taking their information.

  She was happy for the distraction to keep her from thinking about her parents and about what Tatum had wanted from Joe last night. It was none of her business. But that afternoon when she turned down the road for home, she saw Joe’s pickup in front of her.

  They pulled into their respective houses at the same time. Joe got out, and her heart free-fall tumbled into her shoes at the sight of him.

  He waved to her before reaching into the bed of his pickup for shopping bags. Even though she told herself to play it cool, she was across that road so fast she was almost panting by the time she reached him.

  “Hello, Trouble,” he said, that devilishly slow dimpled smile spreading over his face.

  “Hi.” Breathlessly, Gabi tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, knowing she was giving away her nervousness.

  “Nice evening.” His grin was buttery hot and melty.

  Unable to speak against the brilliant stun of that smile, she wriggled a couple of fingers and avoided meeting his gaze directly.

  “How have you been?” he asked.

  “Umm … okay.” Wow, Gabs, scintillating conversation.

  “How was your first day at the free clinic?” he asked, leaning in just enough to give her a whiff of his clean, fresh scent.

  “Fine.” She nodded, a little too vigorously. “How about you?”

  “I’m good.”

  “How was … what was going on with Tatum last night?” Damn! She had vowed not to ask him about Tatum.

  “Plumbing leak at the house.”

  “Oh, well.” She blew out a long-held inhalation. “That’s good that it wasn’t something more serious …” She toed the ground with her shoe.

  “Feeling anxious?” he asked, sounding hopeful. “Any more hiccups that need curing?”

  Finally, she met his gaze head-on.

  His eyes were hooked on her lips.

  Instantly, her nipples beaded. Stupid body. Giving her away.

  “Sorry to disappoint you.” She laughed, deciding laughter was a better nervous tic than hiccups. “But I think I’m cured. You cured me.” She brushed her palms together. “I haven’t hiccupped since the night we—”

  She froze. Had she said too much? Oh, why had she brought up that night? Instant memories flashed through her head. Him. Her. Hot tub. Naked skin. Entwined bodies. She bit down on her bottom lip, felt her diaphragm tighten the way it did when she was working on a hiccupping fit.

  They stood looking at each other and she started to feel kind of dorky and overeager. She’d rushed over, leaving her coat in the car, and now she was cold.

  “You want to come in?” he asked, sounding relaxed and easy, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes and his jaw seemed tense.

  Mixed messages. Was he asking her in out of politeness or because he really wanted her to come in?

  She ran two fingers over her chin, studied his body language, trying to read past the surface.

  “C’mon.” He motioned her to follow him.

  Since his hands were full, she opened the door for him as they stepped inside.

  It was her first time in his house. The living room was decorated in Texas decor—leather furniture, hand-scraped wood floors covered with a braided rug, brick fireplace, landscape pictures on the walls—earthy, homey, simple. She assumed it was his grandfather’s taste and furnishings. Not his.

  He deposited the bags on the floor by the door, straightened, and turned toward her.

  “I missed you today.”

  “I missed you too,” she said, feeling all the weirdness between them disappear. Her stomach settled and her pulse fluttered and she realized she’d been holding her breath. Okay, so she was more anxious about seeing him again after last night than she’d let herself believe.

  “You’re wearing a Hello Kitty Band-Aid,” she said, nodding at the adhesive bandage circling his index finger. “What happened?”

  “Oh yeah.” He tucked his hand behind him as if he had something to hide. “Cut myself while repairing the plumbing on the rent house.”

  The rent house where Tatum was living. Gabi hated the petty jealousy that curled like a poisonous snake in the pit of her stomach, but she couldn’t deny it. “The Band-Aid is Casey’s handiwork?”

  His eyes lit up at the girl’s name. “Yes. She likes playing nurse.”

  “Maybe I’ll get to meet her.”

  A shadow came in
to his eyes. “That might not be a good idea right now. She’s … It’s a tough time for her, leaving her home and friends.”

  “I understand. It’s good she has you.” Gabi forced a smile like she didn’t care he’d been with Tatum after kissing her. She had no claim on Joe. They’d had sex once. Okay, three times in one day, but that’s all it was. Yes, he’d given Gabi her first orgasm and she was grateful for that, but he didn’t owe her anything.

  He leaned closer, and his uniquely Joe smell wrapped around her. “Gabi?”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “You okay?”

  A hiccup slipped through her clenched teeth.

  His dark eyes pinned her to the floor. “That hiccup says otherwise.”

  “I’m fine.” Hic.

  His eyelids lowered. “Sweetheart, you’ve got nothing to be nervous about with me.”

  Glib words. Did he mean them?

  “I better get back to the yurt,” she said. “Emma and some of her friends are coming over. We’re going to drink wine and knit.”

  “You’re making friends. That’s good.”

  “It is.”

  They looked at each other and even though they were only inches apart, it felt like a hundred miles.

  “Well,” she said, and gestured over her shoulder. “I should be going.”

  “You’re still coming to my parents’ party on Saturday night, right?” he asked.

  She saw the same flicker of anxiety in his eyes that was thundering through her bloodstream. “Will Tatum be there?”

  “She has not been invited, but Casey will be there.”

  “Oh, I could meet her then.”

  “You could.”

  “Well.” She ran her sweaty palms over the seat of her jeans. “Then of course I’ll be there.”

  “My family is looking forward to meeting you.”

  “And I them.”

  “Great. I’ll come pick you up at seven.”

  “We’re going together?”

  “Unless you don’t want to drive over with me.”

  “No sense taking two cars, right.” She angled a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the yurt. “I … um … gotta get ready for my company.”

  “Have a good night,” he said, and she decided the rich, dark whiskey of his voice should be declared illegal because just hearing it made her tipsy with dreams she had no business dreaming.