Christmas at Twilight

by Lori Wilde

  On the road, the sedan hit a slick patch and Dotty Mae’s mouth opened in a wide O as her car fishtailed and she lost control.

  Hutch’s legs were running, but they felt as useless as paddlewheels churning a molasses sea. No matter how fast he moved, he wasn’t going to reach Ben in time to stop disaster.

  Invisible fingers closed around Hutch’s throat, squeezing down, cutting off his breath. Too late. Too late. There was nothing he could do.

  In an icy, vehicular ballet, the white sedan spun a full three-sixty, hit another slick spot, and flew across the road, heading straight for the snow fort. Through the windshield, Dotty Mae’s eyes locked with his and something like hot-wet electricity shocked the dead center of his heart, blue lightning shearing a tree, killing it dead with one split-second strike. It charred the tip of his tongue and burned a smoldering path down his throat to his lungs.

  No! No! His knees and his heart stumbled, collapsing into the snow.

  The headlights of the sedan glinted off the tinkling Christmas lights lining the walkway, making them look to Hutch’s eyes like muzzle flashes. Instantly, the snow melted into sand and he was no longer in Twilight, but back on the streets of Aliabad. It wasn’t noon on Christmas Day, but just after dawn on Labor Day. They’d come up empty-handed. Their target in the wind. The Unit didn’t fail often, but when it failed, it failed spectacularly.

  In his flashback, Hutch saw now what he had not seen then because he had not wanted to believe what he was seeing. It wasn’t his voice that had failed him in Abas Ghar.

  It had been his eyes.

  Hutch reached out a hand, opened his mouth, and in a hoarse, gruff voice he did not recognize as his own, shouted. “Ben! Get out of that fort now!”

  Meredith had just settled the roast onto a serving platter and picked up a kitchen towel to wipe away a dribble of au jus on the kitchen counter when she heard a man yell Ben’s name.

  Her eyes widened. Who was that?

  Next came a high-pitched scream, followed by a quiet thud, and then a prolonged honking noise as if someone were laying on a car horn.

  She tossed aside the cup towel, rushed past Kimmie, who was in the living room playing with the LeapFrog computer Hutch had gotten her for Christmas, and ran to fling open the front door. She blinked, her brain trying to puzzle together what her eyes saw.

  Dotty Mae’s car was on their front lawn, the front tires obliterating the snow fort. Inside the car, the air bags deflated. The continuously honking horn drew neighbors from their houses. Jesse came running from across the street.

  Hutch was on his knees in the middle of the yard, facing the road, his back to her, and he clutched Ben tightly in his arms. With his red ski cap perched jauntily on his head, Ben spied her and raised a hand. “Hi, Mom. I found my cap, and oh yeah, Hutch talkeded.”

  Neighbors thronged around the car. Dotty Mae was conscious and talking but no one wanted to move her or let her move herself. Ambulance sirens wailed, coming closer.

  Dazed, Meredith stepped off the porch and walked toward Hutch and her son.

  The ambulance arrived, lights flashing, the siren cutting off mid-scream as they pulled up beside the sedan. Two paramedics piled out, converged on Dotty Mae.

  Still holding tight to Ben, Hutch got to his feet, turned.

  She saw the story in his face. Ben had been in the snow fort when Dotty Mae’s car had come careening toward it. “You spoke.”

  “Yeah,” he said. His voice was scratchy, like the sound of a butter knife scraping the black off burnt toast. But the timbre, the weight of it was exactly how Meredith imagined his voice would sound—deep, resonant, peppered with a self-assured Texas drawl.

  “To save Ben’s life.” It fully hit her then that her son had almost been killed. Her knees gave way and she crumpled.

  But Hutch was there, setting Ben on the ground, lifting her up. “Meredith,” he murmured. “He’s okay. You’re okay. We’re all okay.”

  Hutch put a hand to her back, holding her steady. He was her ballast. Her rock. He’d saved her son. “Breathe, Yoga Girl. Just breathe.”

  She pulled in a couple of deep breaths but had no patience for it. “Come here, you,” she said, and scooped Ben into her arms, squeezing him hard.

  “Mom!” He wriggled. “You’re suffercating me.”

  Reluctantly, she let him go, looked up into Hutch’s magnetic dark eyes. He’d saved her son. Hutch. Her True North. Love for him spilled from her, a cup overflowing, and she could no more hold it back than she could stop breathing.

  Oh God, she was in so much trouble.

  Unable to bear the exquisite pain of her feelings, she glanced away. Over at the sedan, the paramedics were trying to talk Dotty Mae into going to the hospital to get checked out, even though she kept insisting she was okay. “Take care of that little boy,” she told them. “I almost plowed right into him.”

  One of the paramedics came toward Ben, but Hutch held up his palm. “The boy wasn’t harmed.”

  His strong, commanding voice stopped the paramedic in his tracks. The man nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  Kimmie joined them on the lawn, wanting to know what had happened. The paramedics finally convinced Dotty Mae to go with them. Neighbors, including Flynn and Jesse, walked over to comment on luck and disasters averted and how maybe it was time for Dotty Mae to stop driving. They congratulated Hutch on getting his voice back. He nodded, looked uncomfortable by their atta-boy sentiments, and barely said a word. Someone offered to drive Dotty Mae’s car over to her house. Someone else volunteered to go to the hospital to check up on her. A third person went off to call Dotty Mae’s sons and let them know what had happened and probably chew them out for leaving their mother alone on Christmas Day.

  Kimmie and Ben and some neighborhood children started a snowball fight. That lasted until a parent took a snowball to the back, and then people started rounding up their offspring and drifting back home to their holiday celebrations.

  Flynn shifted a grinning Grace to her other hip and put a hand on Meredith’s shoulder. “I know getting his voice back is a big moment for Hutch. Jesse and I discussed it, and we’d like to take the kids for the evening so you two can have a chance to really talk.”

  The other woman’s generosity touched Meredith. She placed a palm over her chest. “That is so sweet of you, but it’s Christmas, and I’m sure you have plans with your family.”

  “Actually, we do our family thing on Christmas Eve. Honestly, we wouldn’t mind a bit. And we’re right across the road if you get lonesome and want to come after them. Or . . .” Flynn leaned in and lowered her voice. “You can let them spend the night if Hutch really opens up to you and you guys need more adult alone time.”

  “We’re not . . . it’s not what . . .” Meredith started to deny and protest the depth of her relationship with Hutch, but to tell the truth, she did want a chance to explore the feelings he stirred in her. Nothing might come of it. “Are you sure?”

  A knowing grin lit up Flynn’s pretty face. “It’ll be fun. We’ll watch movies, play games, and Grace will love having playmates.”

  Flynn was the children’s teacher, after all, and Meredith had to start trusting someone sometime. But what if Sloane came for her? It was so like him to show up on Christmas Day to ruin everything. But if that were the case, wouldn’t Ben be safer away from her? Torn, she slanted a look at Hutch, who was listening to Jesse suggest the same thing to him. He nodded.

  “Your call,” Flynn said. “We don’t want to intrude, just thought you two might need to decompress.”

  Meredith swallowed back her hesitation, reached for the helping hand. He’ll be right across the street. “Maybe for just a few hours. Thank you so much for offering.”

  “Great. Do you want to bring over some extra clothes in case you decide to let them stay the night?”

  “I’ll do that.”

  Flynn turned to Kimmie and Ben. “Kids, would you like to come over to my house? We’re going to watch How the Gr
inch Stole Christmas, play Candy Land, make popcorn balls, and read Thomas the Train.”

  “And The Magic Christmas Cookie?” Kimmie asked.

  “And The Magic Christmas Cookie,” Flynn confirmed.

  “Yay!” Kimmie clapped.

  “Mommy.” Ben looked at her. “Is it okay?”

  “Sure it is.”

  Disbelief crossed his little face. “Really?”

  She’d been holding the reins too tightly. She knew that, but it was so tough letting them go. “Really.”

  “Cool.” He turned to Flynn. “Let’s go.”

  Leaving Meredith shivering in the cold, until Hutch put his arm around her shoulder and whispered, “That first step is a doozy, Mother Hen, but everything is going to be okay.”

  Flynn waited while Meredith gathered up clothes for the children. Hutch tidied up the kitchen, putting the roast in the fridge for later. Then they stood on the porch together and waved good-bye to the children until they disappeared into the Calloways’ house.

  “Looks like it’s just you and me,” Hutch said, and guided her inside.

  He closed the front door, and it was all Meredith could do not to run across the street and tell Flynn that she’d changed her mind. She wanted her boy back.

  But her situation had already stunted Ben’s life. He had no family, no long-term friends. If she wanted Ben to have a prayer of growing up strong and self-confident, she had to start giving him some independence in bite-sized doses. Never mind that the thought made her hyperventilate.

  The house was so empty without the children in it.

  “You could change your mind,” Hutch said in that midnight-deep voice that made her toes curl. “Do you want me to go get them?”

  “Do you?” She sank her top teeth into her bottom lip. “Want to go get them?”

  “I only want to please you.”

  The simplicity in that statement, the honesty in his eyes told her it was true. “I . . . I think we need time together. To really talk.”

  “Yeah,” he said huskily. He was standing with his back against the front door. She was in the foyer, a few feet away from him, and remembered that first day when she’d guided him inside his own home.

  She raised a hand to her throat.

  “Are you nervous?” he asked.

  Of Hutch? No. Never. Slowly, she shook her head. “Are you?”

  “Hell, yeah.” He combed a hand through his hair, exhaled. “I gotta tell you, babe, I’ve never felt like this before. Brand-new territory.”

  “How’s your throat?”

  He gave a wry, self-effacing smile. “I’m rusty, but I can talk.”

  She gulped, shifted her gaze to his shirt pocket. “Do you want to redeem your gift? A massage might help you relax.”

  His lips pursed in amusement. “Meredith Sommers, do you realize what you’re proposing?”

  “I’m well aware of how responsive you are to touch,” she said. “That first day we met—”

  “I do apologize for the impromptu hard-on, but you were undressing me.”

  “And I’d just blasted you with pepper spray. How many men could get an erection under those circumstances?”

  “What can I say? You are one red-hot woman.”

  She gave a little laugh, flattered by the hungry expression in his eyes, and pressed two fingers to her lips.

  “I’m not kidding. Just talking about it is getting me charged up. You sure you really want to give me a massage because I—”

  She rushed across the space between them to plant her mouth on his in a quick, hard kiss that had his eyes bugging. “I know you just started talking again, but hush.”

  He nodded vigorously.

  Are you sure you’re ready for this? You know exactly where this massage is going to lead. Yes. Precisely. “The massage table is in my bedroom closet. The one I use at work belongs to Hot Legs Spa. Just give me—”

  “We don’t need no stinkin’ massage table.” Hutch bent and scooped her into his arms.

  “You’re not sweeping me off my feet, are you? Because you know how I feel about that.”

  Immediately, he set her down.

  “I was joking.”

  “I’m not. I don’t want to do anything that reminds you of him.”

  She didn’t meet his eyes, but she reached out to toy with the button on his shirt. “You’re not like him in any way, but his influence has taken over my life.”

  He closed his hand over hers. “Meredith.”

  She caught her breath.

  “Look at me.”

  Reluctantly, she raised her head. There was nothing in his eyes but kindness, patience, and love.

  “You’re not ready for this step.”

  “I am.”

  “We’ve only known each other a little over three weeks.”

  “Plenty of people make love on the first date, and while we’ve only known each other three weeks, we’ve been living together and it’s been . . . amazing.” She wasn’t romanticizing their connection. They’d been great in the rough spots—their disagreements, taking care of the kids, the ups and downs of their emotional baggage, the communication barrier—working through everything and coming out on the other side better people for having gone through the struggles.

  “Even when you threw me out of the house?”

  “Yes.” She pressed the flat of her palm against his chest. “Because we both learned something from that and we grew closer because of it.”

  He brushed his fingertips over her temple. “I want you. More than you can possibly know. But it has to feel right to both of us.”

  “It does feel right. Nothing has ever felt more right.” She was scared that he wouldn’t make love to her. “Doesn’t it feel right to you?”

  “I can’t think of a more perfect way to celebrate Christmas Day than making love to you for the first time.”

  “Then take me upstairs.” She jumped into his arms.

  He caught her in his powerful embrace and she wrapped her legs around his waist, entwined her arms around his neck, and rested her head on his shoulders. Sunshine parted the thunderclouds of the last five years and she was home. Moored.

  He carried her up the stairs and she could feel the steady, reliable lub-dub of his heart beating against her breasts.

  This was so easy. Who knew that being with him would be this easy? Effortless as a bird gliding on the breeze.

  She tilted her head back to get a good look at him. Those dark eyes, that strong chin and masculine nose, a neck marred with scars. Scars she didn’t even notice anymore. Some people might think he looked scary. To Meredith he was the most handsome man in the world. How had his face become so familiar to her in such a short time? It felt as if they’d known each other all their lives.

  He was so gentle with Kimmie, so kind to her son, infinitely patient with both children. She’d thought he was sexy from the very beginning, although she hadn’t really allowed herself to think those kinds of thoughts, but the more she came to know him, her attraction took on added layers. What she felt for him was much more complicated than simple sexual chemistry, although there was plenty of that too.

  She could not wait to be with him, to feel his body inside hers.

  Hutch opened the door to her bedroom, crossed over the threshold, and then kicked it closed behind them. He set her down on the bed, stepped back to send an appreciative gaze traveling over her body, his hair curling around the tops of his ears in a totally disarming way. His face dissolved into a knowing grin that said, I want to see you naked.

  “You are so beautiful,” he murmured, his words catching on the last word, rusty, as he’d said.

  She was feeling pretty rusty herself and her hands were shaking again. This was a big step. The first time since . . . No, she wasn’t going to think about him. Wasn’t going to let him ruin this cherished moment.

  If she’d planned this, things would have gone much differently. She would have made a real seduction of it. Shaved her legs. Done a spec
ial job of applying her makeup. She would have brought some sexy lingerie instead of wearing cotton undies that didn’t match her bra. She would have lighted candles and put on some mood music. Bought plenty of condoms.

  Condoms. Oh no. Was that going to be a deal breaker?

  He sauntered toward her.

  Her heart rate jacked up. She held up a stop-sign palm. “Wait.”

  He froze to the spot and his eyes clouded. “Change of heart?”

  “Protection.” She said it like a smart modern woman. It had been so long since she’d felt sexy and in control. “You got any?”

  The crooked smile overtaking his mouth was pure rascal. “Babe, they don’t call Delta Force The Unit for nothing.”

  “Are you saying you’re all a bunch of pricks?” she teased.

  He burst out laughing. “What language, Ms. Sommers.”

  “You started it with the sexual innuendo.”

  “So I did.” He stepped closer. “To answer your question.” He whipped his wallet from his back pocket, opened it up, and a condom dropped into her lap.

  Picking it up between two fingers, she said. “Do you think this will be enough?”

  “Gotta box of them in my room.”

  Boldly, she reached out her right hand, hooked it around his back, and pulled him to her until the bulge in his jeans nestled against her zipper.

  Smooth as silk, he reached for the top button on her shirt, but he fumbled a bit with his left hand. Beneath the shadow of dark stubble at his jaw, a muscle clenched. He was embarrassed about the missing finger.

  She took his big hand in both of hers, bent her head, and kissed the scar where his index finger used to be.

  “Meredith.” He breathed her name. “This is the first time I’ve made love to a woman since this happened to me.”

  “Not as slick as you used to be, huh?” She was teasing him again, hoping to coax out another one of those rascally smiles.

  He took her chin in his hand, tilted her face up, rested his forehead on hers, and looked deeply into her eyes. “None of that slickness with you, babe. Between us it’s always going to be honest.”

  Bowled over by the intensity in his gaze, she reached for light and flirty. “I don’t warrant razzle-dazzle?”