A Peyton Family Christmas (southern arcana )

by Moira Rogers

  “Can you pick something up for me at the post office?”

  “Sure.” See? He could talk to her. Have nice, easy discussions where no one"s pants came off. So what if he had to take a step back to make sure it stayed that way? “Did you order something?”

  “Mmm, sort of. It"ll be addressed to you, but don"t open it.” She smiled, the expression tinged with nervousness. “It"s your Christmas gift.”

  “How mysterious.” He chanced another kiss, a quick peck this time, and jerked his head toward the door. “Come on, let"s go save your sister and the rest of the electronics.”

  * * *

  “Shit.” Nick snatched back her hand and examined her fingers. That was the third time she"d almost sliced off her fingernail with the gift wrap cutter.

  “Do you know how to work this thing? I"m going to lose a digit.”

  “Here.” Michelle held out her hand without looking, most of her attention on the perfectly wrapped gift in front of her. “I did this every year, you know.

  Wrapped dozens of gifts.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Mm-hmm.” After depositing the cutter next to her growing stack of presents, Michelle flipped the current gift over and reached for a length of wide ribbon. “I bought presents for all of the people directly under the Alpha"s offices. Spouses and children, too, for the ones we worked with a lot.”

  Nick had always bought people fruit-of-the-month subscriptions or arranged for gift baskets. “I"m bad at this holiday stuff.”

  “No, you"re not.” With deft movements, her sister wound the ribbon around the flat box and tied it, leaving two trailing ends. It looked like something she"d done often enough to relegate the movements to absentminded habit. “I always overdid it a little because it was one of the few things I could do. Shop online, wrap everything in the penthouse. It was my quiet, silly rebellion—giving the secretary"s son an iPod because they never paid her enough to be able to afford one.”

  “It doesn"t sound silly at all.” Nick picked up a small box and twirled it between her hands. “Together, we can knock this stuff out. You"re good at presents, and I"m good at parties. We"ve got it handled.”

  “The best Christmas ever,” Michelle agreed. She finished the bow and twisted in her chair. “Except...I don"t know what to give Luciano. It"s all so...”

  She trailed off.

  Marriages of convenience had to be sticky under the best of circumstances, and this was much, much more complicated. “Do you want to give him something?” Nick asked carefully.

  “It"s the right thing to do.”

  “I didn"t ask that. I asked if you wanted to.”

  Michelle"s hand dropped to her abdomen, where a loose sweater still managed to hide signs of her pregnancy. “Yes. And no.”

  There were no guidelines here, and Emily Post had never written about what to do in a situation like Michelle"s. “You just have to do what feels right, honey. The most right, anyway, whatever that ends up being.”

  “He gave me my own rooms. He bought a new car, he built a crib, he"s even baby-proofing his ranch for a child who"s not his own.” Michelle gestured helplessly to the table, where plenty of unwrapped presents towered on the far end. “Everything I buy for him ends up seeming shallow. Stupid.”

  “Well, here"s your problem.” Nick rose and walked over to pick through the pile of gifts. “You can"t pay him back for doing those things with a new GPS system. You can"t pay him back for it at all. That"s not the way it works.”

  “No, I suppose not.” Michelle sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Every time I feel grateful to him, I feel guilty. Like I"m not missing Aaron enough.”

  “They"re two entirely different things,” Nick asserted gently. “I"m grateful for what Luciano"s done, but that has nothing to do with where my heart lies.”

  “Rationally, I understand. Emotionally?” She laughed, sounding a little tired. “Can I blame pregnancy hormones? I don"t feel very rational about anything right now.”

  “Blame anything you want. Hell...” Nick nodded toward the bay window, where the snow outside glowed gently in the dim light. “Blame it on the moon.”

  “It is pretty tonight. It"s always pretty here, though. And peaceful.”

  When Michelle said it like that, Nick couldn"t tell if she truly appreciated the peace, or if it was just a nice way of saying boring. “Do you miss New York at all?”

  “No.” It came out too fast, and Nick could tell Michelle realized it. Her sister closed her eyes and shrugged helplessly. “I miss the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center. Aaron always used to find an excuse for us to be there for the lighting ceremony. But everything I miss, I miss because of him, so I don"t want to be there anyway.”

  Nick went to her and curled an arm around her shoulders. “Maybe next year. Surely we could visit Dad for that.”

  But Michelle shook her head. “I"m not taking my son to New York while the Conclave is there. Not for Dad, not for anyone. He can be a normal kid here.”

  “All right.” Her sister"s pain was palpable, but so was her resolve. “What do we have left to wrap?”

  “The digital camera can go to Kat. Unless you think she"d like a Kindle? We could give her both...” Michelle rose and circled around the table to retrieve a flat package wrapped in brown paper, which she set on the table. “I had this made too,” she said, sounding a little uncertain as she pulled a framed picture from the wrapping. “One of the ranch hands took it in for me last month.”

  It was a black-and-white shot of Luciano"s favorite horse, one he"d raised from a foal and taken special pains to care for and train. “I think you should give it to him,” Nick whispered. “Say it"s from both of us if you want, but I know he"d love it.”

  Michelle"s fingers hovered over the frame for a moment, and she nodded.

  “From the Peytons, then. We all have plenty of reason to thank him.”

  “Yeah, we do.” Nick eased onto the edge of the table. “I bought part of Luciano"s ranch.”

  Her sister froze. “You—you did what?”

  “I bought a few acres down by the creek, and I had Derek"s friend Andrew draft a design for me. A house plan. It"s Derek"s Christmas present.”

  Tears filled Michelle"s eyes, and she blinked them away as she drew in a ragged breath. “You"re staying with us.”

  “We"re staying.” It hadn"t been a quick decision, and certainly not a unilateral one—though she hadn"t talked to Derek about building a house. She hadn"t needed to, not after he and Luciano had begun discussing additions to the main ranch house. “At least for the next year or two.”

  “Thank you, Nicky.” Michelle twisted and wrapped her arms around Nick.

  “Just...thank you. To both of you.”

  Much more, and the gratitude Michelle imagined she owed everyone would break her. “It"s as much for us as it is for you,” Nick insisted, hugging her sister tight. “Derek, too. He"s kind of fond of you, you know.”

  Michelle eased away and wiped at her cheeks. “He"s wonderful. You found a good man.”

  “Yeah, I did.” Life with Derek was better than she"d dreamed, and all because it was real. Fantasy could never measure up. “And I have it on good authority he"ll make a protective but doting uncle.”

  “So I"ve heard,” her sister murmured. “Kat"s already issued her warnings.

  To be perfectly honest, I find that comforting.”

  Yes, she probably would. Nick made a show of rolling her eyes. “God help me if I get pregnant. Will you protect me when I’m the one he"s fussing over?”

  “Not a chance. Not with the way all of you hover over me.”

  “Hey, I"ve been behaving myself.”

  “Mostly.”

  “You should take it.” Nick grinned. “„Mostly behaved" is as good as it gets with me, or have you forgotten?”

  “Uh-huh.” Michelle pointed to the chair. “Sit down. I"m teaching you how to use the wrapping paper cutter.”

  “Yes, ma"am.” Anything to keep the hint o
f sparkle in Michelle"s eyes, to hold sadness at bay for a little while longer.

  * * *

  Derek handed Mahalia a cup of eggnog. “If we stay in the corner, maybe Kat won"t make us wear Santa hats.”

  She laughed. “You keep clinging to that impossible optimism, but your cousin"s putting a hat on your head before the night"s out.”

  Since she"d just coaxed Luciano into donning a cheerful red stocking cap, Derek thought Mahalia was probably correct. “Who am I kidding? If she"ll keep laughing, I"ll wear anything she puts on my head.”

  Mahalia"s amusement softened into a smile. “Of course you will. And you"re lucky you found a lady who needs to take care of family just as much as you do.”

  “I know I am.” Across the room, Nick had coaxed her sister to her feet and into a reeling swing dance that Michelle navigated with effortless grace.

  Knowledge imparted by tutors, Michelle had confessed, because the Conclave had never allowed her to attend the dance lessons she"d wanted as a girl.

  John Peyton had done everything in his power to carve out a life for both of his daughters, in spite of the obstacles. It wasn"t hard to see where Nick"s devotion to her family had been learned.

  “That"s what matters.” Mahalia patted his leg. “I"m glad I convinced Kat to bring you to my bar. Though I have to admit, I didn"t think it"d take you and Nicole so damn long to get it right.”

  Derek laughed. “That"s what happens when you meddle. Us thick-skulled fools get it wrong and ruin all your plans.”

  “Mm-hmm, and I"ve learned my lesson.”

  “Say it isn"t so. You"re retiring before you marry Alec off?”

  “Fate,” she declared, “will take care of Alec Jacobson. Just you watch.”

  Fate had its hands full with Alec. Then again, who could have traced the wild path of events that had taken him from human to shapeshifter, from a man with a crush on Nick to a man who would kill for her? “Fate"s sure got a funny way of doing things.”

  “That it does.” Mahalia flashed him one last smile and rose, heading to the kitchen.

  Nick stumbled over and dropped into the spot the woman had vacated with a giggle. “Pregnant and barfy, and Michelle can still dance circles around me.

  What"s wrong with that picture?”

  Derek dropped his arm across Nick"s shoulders and nestled her closer against his side. “Don"t worry, baby. I bet you could still kick her ass at target shooting.”

  She brightened. “That"s true.”

  “"Course it is. We all have our strengths, and I like yours just fine.”

  An unusual blush colored her cheeks. “Yeah, you do.” Then she reached under the end table by the couch and pulled out a flat, square box with a ribbon tied around it. “You haven"t opened your present yet.”

  The box was even lighter than it looked, as if there was hardly anything inside. Derek frowned in concentration as he eased the ribbon free. “The mysterious package I picked up at the post office?”

  “Part of it.” The paper fell away to reveal a folio stamped with the construction company"s logo. Nick reached over and eased open the leather folder. “Call it an artist"s rendering, courtesy of our architect.”

  He recognized Andrew"s work. Precise lines and neat handwriting, all of it combined to paint a picture of a gorgeous... “A farmhouse?”

  “Our house,” she whispered. “If you don"t like the layout, Andrew said you two can work together to modify the plans. And Luciano agreed to sell me a few acres. I was thinking something by the creek...” She tucked her hair behind her ear.

  Nick had been thinking about building a house. For them. He traced the edge of the top sketch with one finger and tried to think past the design to what it would mean.

  A home.

  “It"s beautiful, baby,” he murmured. “And the creek is perfect.”

  Nick made a soft noise and curled closer to his side. “I know you"ve been talking to Luciano about building additions to the house here. Maybe, in the spring, you can do this instead.”

  Close enough that they"d be on hand whenever Michelle needed them, but far enough away to have a little bit of privacy. And it would be their place, a place where Kat could have her own room, where he wouldn"t feel awkward about inviting guests into another man"s home. “Andrew did a good job.”

  “He was the only architect I could think of who knew you well enough to take on this project.”

  Nick could be sneaky, but this time he didn"t have much trouble reading between the lines. “And one you think I should be talking to more often than I am?”

  She shrugged one shoulder and flashed him a sheepish smile. “He"s your best friend.”

  Across the room, Kat fiddled with her new digital camera, trying to line up a shot of Michelle and John. She was smiling, damn near laughing, but he"d known his cousin her whole life. Pain lingered in the quiet moments, when her smile faded and her eyes lost focus. She"d loved Andrew from the first moment Derek had introduced them, helpless puppy love that had grown up as she did.

  Shattered, now. Andrew would never be that man again, any more than Derek could go back to being human, and Kat would never understand any more than Nick could. Nick had been born a wolf. She didn"t know what it was like to wake up in a body beyond your control, in a world that wouldn"t fit and instincts that wouldn"t be quieted.

  Nick stroked his cheek and spoke in a low-pitched whisper. “Are you okay, baby?”

  “I"m supposed to protect her,” he replied quietly. “But I can"t, and I can"t help him, either. I can"t do anything.”

  “You can"t protect her from this because no one can.” Nick slid her arms around him. “There"s nothing to fight here, Derek, and the only thing you can do for either of them? Is love them both enough to stop blaming yourself for what happened.”

  “I know.” He did, that was the hell of it. He knew, because he"d done the same thing as Andrew. Pushed Nick away with both hands, for all the good it had done. And that turned out okay... “I might fly back down with Kat, then. It will give me a chance to talk to Andrew.”

  “I think they would both like that.”

  Derek grinned and eased his fingers down to her unprotected side. “And I"m going to ask your father before I steal his jet.”

  She laughed and twisted away from the tickling touch. “Not to point out the obvious, Gabriel, but that"s called borrowing.”

  Before he could reply, Kat appeared, followed by a blinding flash of light that made the room appear as a ghostly inverted image until he blinked it free.

  “Candid shots,” Kat proclaimed, grinning at them both. “This camera is so awesome it"s wrong. The digital zoom is out of control.”

  “Michelle knows a thing or two about gift giving.” Nick rose and held out her hand. “I want a few of you and Derek.”

  Judging by the reluctance with which Kat handed over the camera, Michelle had indeed done an excellent job. Derek let his cousin drag him to his feet and donned the required Santa hat with a dour expression he had to feign.

  His family was happy. Nick"s family was happy. They were safe. They were together.

  After the last few months of heartache, it was the best gift of all. A Christmas miracle.

  * * *

  Nick almost tripped over the threshold and had to fight to keep hold of her armload of presents as she steadied herself. “How much booze did you guys put in the eggnog?”

  “Enough.” Even Derek seemed a little unsteady, though he was carrying twice as many packages. “Your sister takes her gift giving seriously.”

  “She"s always loved Christmas.” After a moment of trying to remember whether she held anything breakable, Nick began to carefully place the boxes and bags on the coffee table. “Can you catch the lights? Just the tree, though.”

  Derek deposited his stash haphazardly on the table before moving to obey.

  “It was a good night. Good food, family, I think I even saw your father laughing.”

  She peeled off her coat, sank onto th
e couch and kicked off her shoes. “He"s happy,” she said simply. Happy to have his daughters safe, not to mention...

  “You saw him laughing, and I"m pretty sure I saw him holding Mahalia"s hand.”

  “Bullshit.” Even in the dark, Derek seemed to have no trouble finding the plug for their Christmas tree. Lights flickered on, the steady glow of white joined by the colorful bulbs that flashed in impossible to predict patterns.

  “I"d say it was the liquor talking, but I saw what I saw.” She held out her arms. “Come here.”

  He did, but not into her arms. Instead he sank to the floor in front of her, easing his body between her knees. “Thank you, Nicky, for all the presents.

  Especially stealing your dad"s plane.”

  “You"re welcome.” Her heart thumped, and she sat forward and framed his face with her hands. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” His breath ghosted over her lips as he leaned in almost—

  almost—close enough to kiss her. “So what"s it gonna be, Peyton? Run now, or run later?”

  “It"s cold outside.” She slipped one hand to the back of his neck and eased it under his collar, relishing the heat of his bare skin. “Warm in here, though.”

  “Mmm.” His hands dropped to her hips and then slipped up under her shirt. “About to get warmer.”

  Nick shivered and slid off the couch to land astride his lap. “On the floor, no less.”

  He just laughed as his fingers danced up her spine, dragging her shirt along with them. “Nothing new with that.”

  “No, not new.” She raised her arms to let him coax her shirt over her head.

  His hands were strong on her skin—confident, like he was so used to touching her already that he knew exactly how to do it.

  “Maybe in twenty years I"ll be patient enough to make it to a bed.” In spite of the teasing words, he took his time, lowering his lips to hers with only the slightest pressure. “Thirty years. Fifty, tops.”

  “Who cares? Floor"s good enough for me.” She nuzzled his jaw and wove her fingers into his hair. “The floors, walls, chairs, kitchen counter—I"m game.”