The Christmas Sneak: Hope’s Turn Holidays

by Marie Harte

  They both approached the front bay window and stared at his vehicle halfway covered in snow.

  He turned a shocked look her way. “That’s more than a few inches out there. And it’s still snowing.” His lips curled into a grin. “I guess I should check the weather, because, I mean, it might not be safe to drive back yet.”

  She responded in a smile, a lightness making her world right again. “You know, you should. With all that snow, it can’t be safe heading back yet.”

  They grinned at each other, but Nora was grateful Deacon didn’t mention why they seemed so happy about not parting ways. It felt odd to want to be with him so much. She knew the sex had been off-the-charts hot, but just sitting with him felt good. Too good.

  She shut down any warnings going off in her mind and offered him some coffee before getting back to fixing breakfast.

  “I’ll get it, thanks.” Deacon helped himself and closed his eyes. “This is really good.”

  “From the local beanery near Bragg’s Tea.”

  He opened his eyes. “I love those guys.” He watched her cook and stared at the food she piled up on two plates. “Which one is mine?”

  “The big one.”

  He blinked. “They’re both piled with bacon and eggs.”

  She huffed. “No they’re not. Mine is smaller. See?” She took the clearly smaller plate of food.

  He chuckled. “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

  “Right. But hey, you earned that big meal. Got to make up for burning so many calories last night.” He paused. “And this morning.”

  She refused to look at him until they finished breakfast.

  Once again, he did the dishes without being asked.

  “Did your mom train you to be so well-behaved?”

  “She tried.” He shot her a grin over his shoulder. “Some of it took, like the dishes. But I’m not a fan of laundry. And I try, but I’m not a great cook.”

  “I’ve heard.” She refreshed her coffee and watched him, coming to the realization she liked watching him work, liked having someone to talk to in the morning, and that it wasn’t just any body she liked, but Deacon in particular.

  He fetched his phone and returned with a frown. “It might be a few days before I can head back. Look at the mountain conditions and forecast.”

  He handed her his phone, and she read the bad news. That wasn’t so bad.

  “I guess it’s a good thing you have groceries.”

  “Wish I had some extra clothes.” He paused. “Let me go check my SUV. Sometimes I leave a gym bag with stuff in it.” Deacon left and returned wearing a frown and carrying a large duffel bag—not a small gym bag. “I didn’t pack this or put it in my trunk. My gym bag is a lot smaller.”

  “Oh?”

  His eyes narrowed. “I was, however, visited by Simon before I left to check on you.”

  Nora frowned. “I thought you were grocery shopping and got the call from Mitch?”

  “That’s true. But before that I was at home, and Simon came by to visit.” He put the bag down and looked through it then sighed. He pulled a handful of condoms out of the bag. “This isn’t exactly how I’d pack for a night out. And for the record, I don’t think I could use this many condoms in a week.” He paused. “Well, maybe a really good week.”

  She wondered… “You know, Jenna visited me before I left for the cabin. And I unpacked a bag full of lingerie, thongs, and tight clothes.” She plucked at her sweater, saw him follow the movement. “I’d packed pajamas and comfy clothes.”

  “Well, Jenna has good taste in sweaters.” Deacon winked. “That bikini last night near about gave me a heart attack. And when it came off…”

  Nora grinned. “The bikini was all me. I didn’t think anyone would be around to see me wearing it though.”

  “I will never forget it.”

  She laughed. “I’ve never worn it in public before. It’s indecent.”

  “I know. And like I said, it’s ingrained into my brain, never to be forgotten again.”

  “Yeah, well, your suit was better than mine.” She wiggled her brows.

  “Well, I’ll be wearing it in the hot tub while I’m here, so get used to it.”

  “I’ll try, but it’s hard to get used to.” She laughed at the face he made.

  “That was terrible.”

  “I know.” She gave him a smug smile that faded as he stared from his clothes to her. “What’s wrong?”

  He sighed. “I want to have more sex. A lot more sex. I also don’t want to keep you from your much earned vacation. Roy can handle work while I’m gone. But I realized I have nothing to do but bother you. And I don’t want you bothered… Well, not unless you’re hot and bothered.”

  “Now that was terrible.”

  He didn’t laugh with her. “Is it terrible I’m here? Be honest.”

  “No.” She sighed. “It should be awful. I came up here to get away from everyone. But last night was more fun than I’ve had in a long, long time. And I’m kind of glad not to be alone, if you want the truth.”

  His expression softened. “So am I. It’s so easy to be in a crowd and feel like you’re the only one there, isn’t it?”

  She nodded.

  He walked to her and gave her a huge hug. Then a kiss that turned hot way too fast. He pulled back and had to catch his breath. “You do that to me. Every time.”

  “Yeah, me too.” She shook her head, hoping to clear the lust from her brain. “I did want to get some writing done.”

  He pulled back. “I can keep myself busy while you’re working. But maybe when you’re done, we could spend time together.” At her look, he flushed. “Not just fucking. Er, having sex.”

  She bit back a grin, liking his discomfort. Deacon always acted smug or self-assured. Seeing this part of him, the real man behind the handsome face, made her treasure their time together as authentic. Something she didn’t think he shared with many people outside his close friends and family.

  She winked. “Fucking is fine too.”

  He laughed. “What about making love? Can we do that later?”

  “As opposed to fucking? Isn’t it the same thing?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Where is the romantic in you? Fucking is animal sex. Making love uses gaga eyes and smoochy words.” He pursed his lips and made moony-eyed faces at her that had her laughing hysterically.

  Who knew Deacon could be so funny?

  She wiped her eyes, still laughing. “That’s it. As soon as I get done working on this section, you and I are settling in for an afternoon of popcorn and Christmas movies. I downloaded both Hallmark and Lifetime. You’re welcome.”

  “Shoot me now.”

  Deacon had never felt so at ease with a woman. He sat on the couch and read a book—a romance book on Nora’s e-reader she’d recommended—and got both turned on and entertained. He wanted to recreate the sex scene with Nora later.

  While he read and kept quiet, she worked on the dining table typing and scribbling in her notebook every so often.

  As promised, when finished, she forced him to watch Christmas movies. In the three they watched back-to-back (not as terrible as he’d feared the experience to be), the leading man wore plaid and came from a small town. The woman, a city dweller, left her citified fiancé/boyfriend for the small town plaid guy and moved in with him to start a pumpkin patch, a Christmas tree farm, and in the last instance, a lavender farm. The real shocker—Nora cried at the happy endings.

  After their last movie ended, he held a tissue for her. “Is that what you want? Some small town farmer to sweep you off your feet and plant flowers?”

  “Hush. It was wonderful.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means you’re a romantic. Under the snarls, the snark, and the fuckery, you like a good romance.”

  “So what? And what’s wrong with fuckery?”

  He had to smile. Nora always cursed with such flair. “Nothing. So if I give
you a candlelit dinner, chocolates, and flowers, you’d be happy with that?” Wait, he hadn’t meant to ask her straight out what she liked.

  “Well, duh.” She blinked. “But you and I are just in this for sex, right? It’s simple. We shouldn’t complicate it.”

  “Of course.” Yet he needed to know more. “But if, for the sake of argument, a guy wanted to date you, that’s what you’d like? Romance?” Bundles of lavender?

  “I guess. If he meant it. It’s nice when you’re in that new dating phase where you try to impress each other. But at some point, you need to be honest about what you like. Forcing a nonromantic guy to be romantic never works. Trust me. I know.”

  “I like football, but my girlfriend wouldn’t have to love it.”

  “I like books, but my boyfriend wouldn’t have to read them.”

  “That one I was reading earlier was pretty good. I liked it.”

  She didn’t tease him for admitting the truth but agreed instead. “Me too.”

  “Is that what you’re trying to write?”

  “Yes, kind of. More of a fiction than a romance, or what they call women’s fiction, which is actually just fiction, but for some reason it’s labeled as women’s fiction.” She sneered. “As if women are less legitimate than… Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “You’re cute when you ramble.”

  “Shut up.”

  He laughed then asked a question he hadn’t intended. “Do you like football?”

  “I, well, yes. I mean, I like to watch the players in their tight pants.” She grinned at him. “When Simon started playing, I took more interest in it. Then Becca got involved with Mitch, and I figured it wouldn’t hurt to learn the sport.” She eyed him up and down. “You have to be pretty smart to be a quarterback.”

  He waited for the snippy comment sure to follow, surprised when it didn’t. “Er, yeah. Lots of plays to know, the ability to read the field. And it depends on the coach and how much faith he has in you to run the offense. Some coaches are more hands-on. Mine wasn’t.”

  “You missed winning a Super Bowl twice. And you won team MVP five years out of the seven you played. You were at the top of your game.”

  His eyes widened. He hadn’t realized she knew that much about his sports career.

  Seeing his surprise, she blushed and mumbled, “Mitch talks about you sometimes.”

  He felt warm that she cared enough to remember that much. “I loved the game. No question.” He had to tread carefully now, aware he’d screwed up with her in the past when moving too fast. “But it’s over. I have a life I really like right now. Great friends, great family, a hot woman who gets even hotter when she’s wet.”

  “Deacon.”

  “I meant in the hot tub. That kind of wet. Geez, Nora. Get your head out of the gutter.”

  She laughed at him. “Nice try.”

  “I like this.” He smiled. “Us being friends. Laughing and talking. You not mad at me.”

  She sobered, looking him over carefully, and added, “And fucking like rabbits.”

  “Well, of course. I didn’t think that needed to be said.”

  She seemed to relax, which he found curious. It was almost as if she’d rather chalk up their relationship to the nothing but the physical, letting it mean less than it did. Than it should.

  Fuck. What did their relationship, such as it was, mean exactly?

  “Deacon, about us together…” Nora paused.

  Instead of cutting in and making a hash of things, he waited.

  She finished with, “I think it’s nice too.”

  That was it? Just nice? Well, he’d take what he could get. For now. Because being with Nora had opened him up to some possibilities, thoughts and feelings for a woman he hadn’t had in a long time. The warmth in his chest scared and excited him. But he’d take it slow. Look for the long game.

  And if he had a shot at winning this particular title, he’d need to employ strategy.

  “Good. I think so too.” He leaned close to kiss her on the cheek. “But if I have to watch one more man in plaid fold under mistletoe, I might puke. How about we play some games after a quick break?”

  “Fine. But I play to win.”

  “So do I.”

  They shared evil grins.

  “Winner does dishes and gives backrubs,” Deacon challenged.

  “Oh, you’re on. And foot rubs too. Don’t forget those.”

  He raised his size thirteen feet in socks with no holes, thank goodness, and wiggled his toes. “Bring it, Nielson.”

  “Back at ya, Flashman.”

  They broke even at two to two. But Deacon considered all things equal since they ended in bed.

  And Nora’s rubs gave all new meaning to feeling good.

  Chapter 12

  Early Friday afternoon, Nora watched the snow start to recede. The weather hadn’t overly warmed, but the sky was bright, and the sun had melted enough snow that Deacon could at least get to his vehicle without being knee-deep in the stuff.

  For two days, she and Deacon had played games, watched movies, eaten bad-for-you food, and followed up with even worse wine—the cheap and sweet stuff that didn’t strain Nora’s budget. And they had sex. Glorious, orgasmic, heart-stopping sex that continued to push at Nora’s emotional boundaries.

  Deacon always saw to her needs first. He seemed to love watching her enjoy herself, and with him, she never felt self-conscious for letting go. He made her feel beautiful, and he liked to cuddle and talk after they lay together, giving her a warm feeling inside. That maybe, like her, he felt more than just physical pleasure from their joining. But that they clicked on other levels too.

  She smothered a sigh and shot him a side glance, content just to watch him. He hadn’t shaved, and though the scratchy feel of his cheeks against her skin wasn’t the nicest, it could be disturbingly sexy when rubbed against the right places. Plus, he looked like some kind of bad boy biker/tough guy. Straight out of one of her books.

  It had surprised her, and him, if she read him correctly, to find he enjoyed her fictional taste. Granted, he kept wanting them to act out the sex scenes, but he also liked talking to her about the intricate plots.

  With any luck, she’d continue to write her own book and eventually finish it before she turned forty.

  She grimaced, realizing her birthday—the big three-five—loomed close. Just eleven more days to Christmas Eve and her being that much further from having a family of her own. She stared without seeing at the snow outside.

  “What’s with the depressed look?” Deacon asked.

  Startled, she jumped and snapped, “Do you have eyes in the back of your head?”

  “Yep. Wanna see?” He rubbed his head. “Ow, just poked myself in the eye.”

  Nora tried not to smile, but she loved the fact Deacon could dish out the sarcasm as well as take it. “I’m not depressed. Well, a little. I want to go outside and enjoy the weather, but I should be writing.”

  He put the e-reader down and joined her by the front window. “Wow. It’s beautiful out there. Put on your boots and coat. We can go for a walk.” He started to head for the closet and slowed. “Or is this your way of asking me to head back?” He pasted a smile on that didn’t look sincere. And that made her happy. Deacon didn’t want to leave. “I should probably check the weather—”

  “Don’t bother,” she interrupted before letting out a loud, put-upon breath. “You might as well stay the weekend. I mean, to make sure it’s really clear before you head back to town. And with all the weekend traffic you’re sure to hit even going down the mountain, it’ll be safer to wait until the crowds clear. Unless you need to get back to make up for missed work?”

  He’d been borrowing her computer at night to catch up on emails and some business, but he hadn’t seemed stressed about missing the job.

  “No, I’m good. Letting me use your laptop has helped.” Deacon visibly relaxed. “That’s a good point about traffic. It would be better if I could finis
h out the weekend here.” Neither mentioned beating the traffic back down the mountain before the weekend skiers. The better bet would be for him to leave today, honestly.

  “Yeah, that’s a good plan.” She tried to play it off. “I’m leaving Monday morning. You could always leave with me.”

  “Sounds good.” He crossed to her side and gave her a hug and a kiss.

  The man loved to cuddle, and every time he took her in his arms, she felt both cared for and safe. She didn’t understand how his ex-wife had ever thought she might want someone else. Then again, the man had ghosted Nora after their one and only date.

  Nora had a tough time remembering that when being kissed by the giant ball of sex appeal in her arms.

  They put on their boots and winter gear and headed outside for a walk. Still deep in spots, the snow was more than manageable for Deacon, while Nora had to take smaller, slower steps.

  “Hold on, Deacon. Not all of us are six-eleven.”

  “Six-four. But what, you’re on the small side of five feet, right?”

  “Jerk. I’m five-seven. I’m tall.”

  “You keep thinking that.” He waited for her to catch up then reached for her hand and held onto it while they walked through the snow.

  The sun shone overhead, making the snow glisten, the bright white almost glaringly painful in certain spots. “I should have brought sunglasses.”

  “Me too.”

  They walked side by side, and Nora felt the familiar weight of worry and stress gone from her shoulders. “I love being out in the sun.”

  “I don’t get out enough. I know that, but it always seems like I have so much other stuff to do.” He stopped her and pointed up at the sky.

  They watched as an eagle soared overhead, its majesty breathtaking set against the backdrop of snowcapped mountains and white powdered pines. The air smelled crisp and of evergreens, and Nora clutched the large hand in her own, her heart thundering, racing toward a scary feeling she had no right to.

  But when she would have pulled her hand away, Deacon wouldn’t let her.