by Cari Quinn
“I’m sure it’s lovely,” she said, slipping her keys into her purse and tucking her hand in her pocket before he tried to hold it again.
She hated that she liked him touching her so much. Every part of her yearned to be close to him. Even walking beside him back to the house was a kind of torture. Wanting something—someone—so much and not being able to have him was the worst kind of pain. And she’d known many different varieties.
He’d been like a revelation after so many years without being held. Without wanting sex or to be with a man. Now she craved him so much she didn’t know how she would ever stop.
“You know, when you say the word lovely like that, I have the feeling you think I bought you some cubic zirconias or something.”
He surprised a laugh out of her. “No, I would never think that.”
“Just something you wouldn’t want then. Because I don’t know you well enough to get you a present befitting you.” At the end of the walkway to the front stoop of the band house, he turned. “I know more than you think, Lila Lee Ronson.”
She startled at his usage of her middle name—and her maiden name. “Who told you about Lee?”
“Your mother.” He leaned in close to murmur near her ear, “I think she likes me. Imagine that.”
Before she let slip how true of a statement that was, considering one of the gifts in Nick’s box, he pivoted away and strode up the walk to the front door. He kicked it open, and the laughter and music inside spilled out to envelop her on the walkway. Happiness trailed out to her, the warmth and good smells of dinner cooking all combining to crook a seductive finger in her direction. It was an invitation she couldn’t resist.
Come inside, and discover what it’s like to belong. Be part of them, for just one day.
In the doorway, he glanced back, framed by the lit garland someone had hung around the door. And he was the most inviting part of them all.
“What are you waiting for?” That edge of impatience in his voice and the deadly quirk of his lips nearly did her in. “Fucking turkey’s almost done.”
She laughed and followed.
Two hours later, their incredible dinner of turkey and stuffing and all the fixings had been consumed, and she’d taken dish duty because it was only fair Harper get to rest. Jazz too, since she’d taken over baby-shepherding duties for Harper as well during the meal. Lila waved off Margo’s offers to help—and Gray and Deak’s too—because well, the truth was, she should be doing this. She was the one who didn’t have a true place here. She’d been given a tourist’s pass to the band’s Christmas and—
“You don’t have to do this, you know.”
Lila glanced up from the plate she was washing by hand and immediately shifted her gaze away from Nick’s way too intense stare.
Leave it to him to zero in on the heart of the matter. Every matter, every time.
And her heart? Practically flopped into his hands every time he stalked past. Which was just ridiculous.
They’d had a brief affair. She was his manager.
And he was watching her so intently that the side of her face was about to go up in flames.
“It’s not a have to, it’s a want to,” she said quietly, trading her pink scrubbie—likely Jazz’s choice—for a short brush. “I like being useful. Besides, doing dishes gives me time to think.”
“How many dishes have these hands done in their lifetime?” He tugged her hand out of the bubbles and pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles.
“Enough.” She pulled her hand back and frowned at the vibration in her fingertips just from the calloused pads of his fingers touching hers. “You saw where I grew up. I wasn’t born some pampered princess.”
His features softened. “I know. I’m just saying, we have a dishwasher. You don’t have to scrub until your hands are red. Not when I have things in mind for them later.”
All too swiftly, things flashed through her mind. Cupping his cock in her palm while their mouths tangled and their bodies brushed. Stroking him harder, just to hear that sexy little catch of his breath.
Seeing him embracing another woman in a photo taken on the same day they’d argued. So explosively argued, that she’d left him with a handprint across his cheek.
He was the most honest man she knew. She didn’t want to believe the photo meant anything more than two people of the opposite sex hugging. Just friends. But she’d been lied to before, and if she believed Nick and he wasn’t being truthful…
She honestly didn’t know if she could survive it.
So she’d run, and she’d deflected, and she’d avoided being alone with him for the last ten days since they’d had the most incredible weekend of her life. And now he had things in mind for her, and she’d say yes to them because she wanted to belong to him too—if only for a night—as much as she wanted to belong as part of this family Christmas. An unusual family made up of a very motley crew of band members, but a family just the same.
“Everyone’s about to open gifts,” he said when she just went back to her cleaning. It was safe, and falling into the swirling gold depths of his eyes was so…not.
“Okay, I’ll be right in as soon as I finish.”
“Shove over.” He didn’t give her time to protest, just hipchecked her over to the other basin of the double sink and grabbed a plate. He then proceeded to liberally douse it in about half a bottle of detergent, creating a mass of bubbles under the spray like she’d never seen. Not that he seemed to care. He just kept scrubbing and humming, scrubbing and humming. “We need some music in here. Or…” He slanted her a glance. “You could sing.”
“I don’t sing.”
“Yes, you do. Or you did, once. That day in my bedroom. I woke up and caught you.”
If he’d admitted to catching her touching herself, she wouldn’t have flushed any more. “It wasn’t really singing.”
“Yes, it was. It occurs to me that we’re both non-singers, so together, we’d almost make one.”
Her lips twitched. “Is that Nick logic?”
“It’s sensible. So c’mon, which Christmas carols do you know? ‘Silent Night’? ‘The First Noel’? ‘Jingle Balls’?”
Her laughter spilled out, and she couldn’t have stopped it if she tried. “You mean ‘Jingle Bells’?”
“No way. Simon always told me it was balls.”
“Simon lied to you.”
“Bastard,” Nick said under his breath, then when that wasn’t enough, he lifted his soapy hands out of the water, marched to the kitchen doorway and bellowed, “Simon, you suck.”
Lila had to grin. He was such an adorable jerk.
Simon appeared in the doorway with baby Lexi strapped to his chest in a pale pink snuggy. “You rang?”
“Yes, I rang. ‘Jingle Balls’, huh?” Nick crossed his arms. “You’re lucky you have that baby as armor or I’d shove your ass into next Tuesday.”
Simon smothered a laugh into Lexi’s cap of brown hair. “Sure you would, brother. You think Christmas has granted you superhero abilities?”
But Nick wouldn’t be deterred. “Why would you tell me balls if you knew it was bells?”
“Because everything goes better with balls,” Simon said simply.
Lila shook her head and returned to her scrubbing. “I may turn lesbian yet.”
Nick turned his back on Simon. “Ignore him. He’s had to develop a fondness for small, wrinkly things to keep his ego intact.”
She snorted and rinsed off a dish before stacking it with the others on the rack.
“Aw, look at you two being all domestic. So sweet.”
“Yeah, and look who has a baby strapped to his puny chest.” Nick cocked an eyebrow as he reached for the dish soap again. He squirted until only bubbles emerged from the bottle, then grunted. “Yo, Jazz,” he yelled. “We’re outta soap.”
Lila pressed a finger to her ear. “Can you not bellow every time?”
“I second that,” Jazz said, strolling in with a snuggy of her own. “The babi
es are sleeping. Besides, what do you mean we’re out of soap? I just put out a new bottle tonight.” She blinked at the bubbles floating everywhere, mostly down the drain. “Oh my God. What is your damage?”
“What?” Nick glanced between the two women, his frown growing as Lila smothered a chuckle into her shoulder. “I used soap. You want them clean, right?”
Jazz shook her head and bent down to open a cabinet door. She produced another bottle of detergent and banged it on the lip of the sink. “First off, you live here too. As does Gray. I’m not the only one who can access the soap, just by virtue of having a vagina. Second, use a reasonable amount. Lila, school him, would you? Freaking men.” She shook her head again and whirled on her heel to march out of the room.
“Ho-ho-ho,” Simon said cheerfully, patting Nick on the head like a small dog, then darting out of his reach before following Jazz.
“I quit.” Nick dragged his hands out of his bubble-monstrosity and waved them dramatically. “I don’t need this abuse.”
“No, you don’t, sweetie. Go sit down in front of the fire with the others. You must be tired after washing that,” Lila checked his sink, “one dish.”
Nick growled in her direction and grabbed another plate. “You’re lucky I’m hoping to get laid later, otherwise I’d be much less good-humored about this.”
She had to laugh. Only Nick would admit such. “This is you being good-humored?”
“Yes. So sing me a damn Christmas carol. Something dirty.”
“By virtue, Christmas carols aren’t dirty. Since they’re typically about a family holiday and commonly invoke religion.”
“You know I get hard when you use big words, right?”
It was her turn to growl as she flung bubbles at him. Seeing him laugh was a revelation. It transformed his whole face, making his eyes seem to glow brighter than the tree.
And the tree was pretty darn spectacular.
“The only Christmas song I know all the words to is ‘Silent Night’. I learned to play it on the piano at the apple farm.” Just admitting it was like lifting a weight off her chest. Nick was the only one who knew what music meant to her, far beyond the boundaries of her job. Any kind of music, from Christmas songs to Oblivion hard rock hits to the classical she played in her car.
He was the only one she’d trust not to laugh at her small accomplishment of learning that song on the piano. Better yet, at teaching herself.
“It was out of necessity,” she added when he didn’t speak. “The talent for the day called off and my parents didn’t have…what are you doing?” she asked as he drew her away from the sink, soapy hands and all.
“Hear that?” He tipped his head in the direction of the living room, where someone had turned on traditional Christmas carols. That was Bing Crosby, for God’s sake.
A smile tugged at her lips. The Oblivion boys—and girls—knew their classics too.
“I do. I’m rather surprised to hear it here.”
“Most likely courtesy of Gray. He likes the older stuff. Next he’ll probably drag out the Glenn Miller big band crap.” Nick dragged her into his arms and twirled her out again before she realized they were actually dancing. Sort of. A bit clumsily, but all in all, they were moving in a semblance of a dance.
“I thought you didn’t dance?”
“I don’t. But I figured since we aren’t singing, I needed to do something else I don’t normally do tonight. Well, besides buying and wrapping gifts. I did that today too.”
“So I saw.” She cleared her throat to keep her voice from thickening on her as he spun her out again. “What did you get everyone?”
“Shh,” he said with a dramatic stage whisper. “Everyone’s right in the other room. Now shush and let me dance with you.”
She glanced at the sinkful of overflowing dishes. She was supposed to be earning her keep for being allowed to be one of them on this special night. “But I have to finish.”
“No, you do not. You’re family. Family doesn’t clean up after meals.”
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Then who does?”
“You leave the plates there until you can’t possibly get the gunk off them, then you buy paper plates. Which is what any reasonable person should use anyway.”
“More Nick logic?”
“Yes.” He pressed his cheek to hers, his feet only bumping into hers every other step. “I’m warming you up now, so I can undress you sooner than later.”
Her heart fluttered, though she made a valiant attempt to keep her face sober. “Glad to see you have a plan.”
He drew her back long enough to dip his forehead to hers and gaze directly into her eyes. “Oh, baby, I always have one. Always.”
She cleared her throat again as Bing melted into a Shania Twain duet. “We should probably join the others.” Though she fully intended to sneak back into the kitchen once Nick was asleep. She wasn’t one for leaving tasks undone. Especially since Harper had prepared such an incredible meal, and they hadn’t had to invite her.
“Stop overthinking this,” he murmured into her ear, and she jolted because the rumble of his voice slid into her bloodstream like a potent shot of desire. “You have every right to be here. You’re part of us.”
Part of me.
He didn’t say it, but she felt the words as surely as if he had.
“Presents,” he said after a moment, when it became clear she didn’t have a reply. What could she say?
She’d spent so many Christmases alone in recent years. Going back east to be with her parents now actually hurt more than it eased the pain. Seeing everyone happy and together while she was alone reminded her of her solitary life. How she didn’t have a husband who actually gave a shit about her or a family of her own, in spite of how much she wanted one.
Kids. She couldn’t help wanting them any more than she could help wanting an old-fashioned family Christmas like she’d had with her parents growing up. There had been cousins, and neighbors, and family friends. Plenty of noise and joy, laced with more than a little good-natured ribbing.
Like there was at the band house tonight. And they were including her, which was a miracle of its own.
“Yes, presents.” She took a deep breath. “We’re probably missing the gag gifts.”
He led her up the hall to the living room, his arm clamped firmly around her shoulders. She didn’t think she could dislodge his hold on her with a wrecking ball. “I didn’t do any gag gifts. Mine are all fucking awesome.”
She smirked as they took their seats at the edge of the circle the band had made around the teetering tower of gifts in front of the fireplace. With Nick, awesome could mean literally anything from rotgut to a jumbo box of condoms.
“About fuckin’ time,” Simon said, glancing down at the baby still affixed to his chest. “I mean, frakking,” he amended as Jazz loudly cleared her throat.
“We were cleaning up, since you heathens all abandoned the scene of the crime.” Nick leaned toward the fireplace and started feeling around behind a lopsided miniature plastic Christmas tree, a pale imitation of the large one twinkling in the corner. “Okay, thieves. Which one of you copped my spare pack of smokes?”
“You can thank all of us.” Jazz smiled widely. “We all decided our biggest present to you would be the gift of clean lungs. So…you’re welcome.”
Nick’s snarl would’ve made Lila laugh if he hadn’t immediately dug through another box covered in, oddly, what appeared to be the front page of that day’s newspaper. “You all think you’re so smart. Guess you missed this, Miss Manners,” he said to Jazz, pulling out a thin box of cigars. “I got them for all of us to smoke after dinner.”
“What all of us?” Simon shook his head. “I can’t smoke with my throat.”
“I can’t either. You know I’m avoiding all that stuff.” Gray stopped bouncing Dylan in his lap, who looked to be in some kind of food-induced coma.
“Dude, I don’t do that shit. I keep my body clean. You know that,�
� Deak put in from the rocking chair in the corner. Harper was stationed between his legs on the floor, her head tucked on his thigh.
“Oh yeah, that’s right. Darn. I guess these are just for me then.” Nick slipped one between his teeth and flicked out a lighter from his pants pocket. “Merry Christmas.”
Lila leaned in close and let a few of the loose curls from her updo block her face as she murmured, “Smoke that and your mouth isn’t touching mine.”
“Goddammit.” He threw the cigar back in the box with a disgusted huff. “This Christmas stuff is bullshit. Where’s my happiness? Where’s my joy?”
“In your dick, and if you don’t shut up soon, you’ll be holding it all night long.” Simon jolted from Margo’s sharp elbow to his side. “What? Bitching doesn’t earn you sex points. I’m trying to do the guy a favor.”
Lila nearly put in that they were getting the wrong idea about them, that they weren’t starting something up again. Technically, they hadn’t finished the last time. But she didn’t want to get into an argument or make more out of the night than it was.
It was just fun, just sex. Just a little magic on loan. Tomorrow, it would be back to business as usual.
So she drew her legs up to her chest and propped her chin on them. And observed.
Harper dozed against Deacon’s leg, and the two babies mostly slept, in between turning wide eyes on the mammoth pile of gifts being unearthed. Lexi let out a wail when Harper roused enough to bring in a plate of cookies from the kitchen. They were all freshly frosted and sugary-sweet, and Lila had eaten three of them before she noticed Deacon pocketing his phone with a sigh.
“Santa’s stuck in Provo. Stupid snowstorm.”
“So much for our surprise for the kids.” Gray tugged up Dylan’s sock and shifted him on his lap. “Guess we’ll have to try again next year.”
“Dude, Santa here? That’d be sweet.” Simon cleared his throat at Jazz’s pointed look. “Sorry, man.”
“Snow is the freaking best. Screw this blazing sun crap. We had the best time in it.” Nick glanced at Lila and reached over to grip her hand. “Hey, why don’t you come sit on my lap? I can do one hell of a Santa impression. In fact…”
