My mother gasped and stopped her half-ass attempt at pancakes. “Our Christmas morning breakfast is now officially over,” my brother grumbled.
“We can go get some donuts or something from that other store,” Clayton offered.
We all groaned.
That ‘other store’ just wasn’t Dillan’s place. Wasn’t as good quality, and we didn’t like them nearly as much. But, on holidays, Dillan’s place sold out very, very fast. When they were out, they were out, and she went home to spend the day with her family.
Want to know why we know that? Because we learned that lesson the hard way over Thanksgiving.
“Let’s talk about these babies.” My mother grinned maniacally. “When will they be happening?”
“Mom.” I felt my face flame. “We haven’t even said ‘I love you’ to each other yet.”
She scoffed. “The way your daddy tells it, that boy loves the hell out of you. Just because you haven’t said it yet doesn’t mean that you don’t feel it.”
That was true.
I felt it. I was just too chickenshit to say it.
“Your man’s here,” Clayton said from the living room. “And it kind of looks like it might be snowing.”
I gasped and ran to the door, not because it was snowing—which was a miracle in and of itself when it came to Texas—but because I wanted to see Saint.
The man did things for me that my family just wasn’t capable of doing.
I flung open the door just as Smoke bounded out of the truck. Saint reached into the back seat of his truck and produced four boxes of donuts.
I gasped in double surprise.
“Donuts!” I cried as I hurried to where Saint was standing.
He placed the donuts on the hood of the truck and caught me up in his arms.
I wasn’t excited about the donuts. I was excited about him.
And he saw that in my eyes as I was running toward him.
The moment that our bodies met, so did our mouths.
“Oh my God!” Connor yelled. “Clayton, come watch them suck face! It’s disgusting.”
I pulled back and looked down into Saint’s eyes. “Are you sure about this? I come with two very annoying, very juvenile, very adult men that make it a habit to make my life miserable.”
He started to chuckle.
“I think I can handle two brothers that care about you,” he said. “Even if they’re annoying sometimes.”
I felt like there was something more he wasn’t telling me when it came to what he’d just said, but he said, “Climb around to my back. Your feet are bare and it’s snowing out here.”
I didn’t bother to argue.
I did have to have his support in moving me until I was at his back, though. Apparently, I didn’t have nearly the upper body strength that was needed to make this happen gracefully.
Once I was settled, my arms around his neck, carefully avoiding his stitches, and my legs around his waist, he picked up the donut boxes and started walking toward the front door.
My mother was standing there with Connor and Clayton nowhere in sight.
“I made your brothers go inside and wash their hands like they were children since that was what they were acting like,” she said. “It’s nice to see you again, Saint. Merry Christmas.”
When Saint got close to my mom, he dropped a kiss onto her cheek.
My dad growled from across the room. “Keep your lips off my woman.”
I slid down Saint’s back as I was rolling my eyes.
“You’re weird,” I said as I walked toward him and washed my own hands before starting another pot of coffee.
“Sorry, sir.” Saint sounded amused as he set the boxes of donuts on the counter near everyone. “Sorry I’m late. Thought I’d make up for it by bringing donuts for later, but looks like we’re having them now?”
He said that as Clayton, my dad, and Connor all dug in.
“Does anybody find it weird,” Connor said around a large bite of donut. “That our sister is dating someone named Saint? Because our dad is named Saint, too. That’s just weird. Right?”
I rolled my eyes. “Dad’s name isn’t Saint. His name is Michael. And he hasn’t gone by Saint since he got off the SWAT team years ago.”
“The old-timers still call him that at work,” Connor disagreed. “And now everyone’s confused on which Saint they’re asking about.”
“Well,” I said. “I’ve never called my father Saint. I have called Saint, Saint, though. So no, it’s not weird. You’re just stupid and annoying.”
Connor flipped me off, and then my mother popped him in the side of the head with a dishtowel.
“Saint, would you like some coffee?” Both my dad and Saint looked up.
Okay, this could be a bit odd at first.
I could see why now.
But we’d figure it out, because Saint would be here for a very long time if I had my way.
Together we had a family breakfast, talking and laughing about nothing consequential. Eventually, the excitement of gifts started to overtake me, so I begged and pleaded to start opening.
I was excited to see Saint’s face when I showed him what I got him.
“Do you mind if I get changed and grab a quick shower first?” Saint asked. “I haven’t been able to change out of yesterday’s clothes yet.”
My mother immediately jumped up. “You can go to take one in Carolina’s old room. Don’t worry about all the lovely boy band posters still on her walls. She’s grown up since the Jonas Brothers. She’s into real men now.”
I sighed. “Mother.”
Mom giggled her way down the hallway, but Saint stopped about halfway. “Oh, I forgot my bag.”
“I’ll get it.” I stood up.
He looked at me thankfully. “Thanks, baby.”
I winked at him and slipped my feet into shoes this time before going outside.
Saint was right. Going out there in bare feet wasn’t the best idea. It was too cold.
As I arrived outside, I walked to his cruiser, surprised by the utter silence of the world around me.
The only sound that could be heard was the soft tap-tap of the snow hitting solid surfaces.
I walked to the back of Saint’s police cruiser and opened the back hatch.
That’s when I saw all the presents.
What. The. Fuck.
I picked up the first present, which, might I add, looked to be professionally wrapped, and looked at the tag. ‘To Carolina.’
I looked at the next one. And the next. And the one after that.
Every last one of them said, ‘To Carolina.’
I felt my eyes well with tears as I picked up his gym bag and left the presents there.
Or, I would have had my brothers not followed me out.
“What the hell are you looking at so closely back here?” Connor asked as he stopped me from closing the hatch.
“Wow,” he said. “Nice wrap job. Makes my shit look like shit.”
I rolled my eyes and tried to close it again, but Connor shoved me out of the way, nearly making me fall.
I shoved him back and he barely moved an inch.
Connor had put some meat on his bones. Used to be I could take them both down with a well-placed shove. But over the last couple of years they’d put on a lot of bulk, and more resembled my father in stature now rather than two snotty-nosed teens.
“Damn, sis,” Connor said as he started to stack presents. “These are all for you.”
“I know,” I said. “That’s why I was intending to leave them in here. I’m not sure if Saint wanted to open these here or not.”
It also made me feel bad because I had only gotten him a few things. Saint had gotten me a few times ten.
“Nah, we’ll bring them in,” he said. “We want to see what you get.”
Clayton was then at the door saying, “Carolina, you better hurry up. Mom said that men don’t take long showers like women do. Which, I want to point out, I tend to agree wi
th her. Did you know your man wears glasses like a nerd?”
I rolled my eyes and left my brothers gathering the presents.
Walking inside, I headed to my room where not only was Saint taking a shower in my bathroom, but his dog was laid out on my bed.
When I got in there, I found Smoke, his tail nub thumping on the comforter, laying there as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He looked blissed out, and I had a feeling that had to do with his person coming home and probably giving him a good scratch.
I dropped the bag onto the floor, gave Smoke a good rub behind the ears, and snuck into the bathroom.
Saint was still in the shower.
But seeing him in the pink-tiled bathroom that I’d chosen when I was fourteen, made me smile.
“How do you like my fourteen-year-old decorating skills?” I teased as I watched him through the glass.
Saint turned around, presenting me with the front of him.
His cock was flaccid, but the moment that he saw me, it started to grow.
“It’s a teenage boy’s nightmare,” he teased. “My adult self can see the appeal of letting my child get in on the process of doing the bathroom, though. Your mom told me that you not only helped pick out the colors but lay the tile.”
I nodded, licking my lips.
“I did. I also painted the walls by myself, helped put in the new toilet, screwed in the toilet paper holder and the towel holders, and installed the sinks,” I admitted.
He leaned his head back and rinsed the shampoo out of his hair.
When he next looked at me it was to see a gleam in his eyes.
“Is that why you’re living in that old house?” he asked curiously.
The ‘old’ house wasn’t really all that old.
“No,” I said. “I’m renting it with an option to buy it. When I moved back here a few months ago, I found that all of the rental options for me weren’t really options because I don’t like neighbors. And the ones that I wouldn’t mind, like Cop Row, are booked solid. Did you know Cop Row has like a two-year waiting list?”
He squirted the smallest amount of conditioner ever into the palm of his hand and worked it into his hair.
“I’d heard that it was, but I was the first person to move out there. I then told a few others in the SWAT team about it, and then we were all of a sudden all out there,” he admitted. “I never really thought about the popularity of it. Though, saying that, Malachi’s duplex is about to be available. I can probably talk to someone…”
I frowned. “Why’d you trail off?”
He scratched his head. “I wanted to talk to you about this later.”
My lips curled up in amusement.
“Talk to me about it now,” I ordered.
He ran the soap up over his thick thighs, propping one foot up on the corner of the bathtub.
My eyes automatically went to his cock and balls that were hanging heavily between his legs.
His cock that was growing in size the longer that I stared at it.
“It’s nothing bad,” he hedged.
I brought my eyes up to his. “So then tell me.”
He sighed. “I wanted to tell you I love you when I wasn’t naked.”
My breath hitched.
“What?” I breathed.
“I wanted to tell you I love you,” he said, putting the soap up and stepping under the water to rinse off completely. “But you are a pain in the ass.”
I laughed. “A lovable pain in the ass.”
“A lovable pain in the ass, yes,” he agreed.
I stepped forward until I could feel the heat coming off of his body.
Once I was close, I looked up at him.
“I love you, too. You know that, right?” I asked.
He curled his palm around my face, pulling me until he could reach my mouth.
“Honey, I knew that the moment that you let me back into your life after I decided to be a douchebag for half a week,” he admitted.
I leaned forward onto my tippy toes and stretched my neck up, pouting my lips.
He dropped his mouth down onto mine, his mouth taking my innocent kiss and raising me one.
His arm slashed around my hips and pulled me in tight while he thrust his tongue into my mouth.
I moaned against his lips, my nipples tingling and other body parts starting to wake at his extended closeness.
When he finally pulled away, I was clutching on to his biceps for dear life, and wondering if we could get away with a quickie without anyone being the wiser.
Probably not.
His eyes were lazy and hot as he stared down at me.
“You have my photo up,” Saint said as he ran the towel over his hair.
I grinned. “I do.”
“How many of those calendars do you have?” he asked curiously.
“I have one up here,” I said. “I got it for my mom, but Dad didn’t really like it, so we hung it up in here. I have one at my office, and one at home.”
He grimaced. “I’ll never do a calendar again.”
I frowned. “Why not?”
“Because I’m tired of being called Mr. December,” he admitted. “I don’t like it. I don’t like it when people still, twelve months later, ask me to sign their stupid calendars because they’re trying to win a beach vacation to somewhere that ended like nine months ago. To make matters worse, I’m objectified. I think I’m one of the only ones, though, that didn’t face the camera, so not many people know that I was on it. I only get ‘Mr. December’ comments from people that heard I was in there from someone else.”
“Awww, Mr. December,” I teased as I sat down on the counter. “Your poor little self.”
He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.
When he finished trying to straighten out his hair, he was glaring.
“We had a SWAT call last week where a little old lady called in because she needed help ousting a tenant. A tenant that got really pissy when he refused to leave and then pulled a gun on the little old lady’s husband. After the SWAT call was over, she had every single one of us sign her calendar. But since it was only half of us there, she came up to the station and brought us cookies and muffins, and then had everyone else sign it.” He paused as he reached for the bar of soap. “But she made special cookies for me because I ‘wasn’t very festive’ in my calendar photo. She was hoping that the Santa-shaped cookies would bring me more ‘holiday cheer.’ Now everyone likes to give me little Christmas gifts as a ‘cheer up’ present.”
That was actually kind of funny.
I allowed my hand to trail down the length of his side, stopping when I couldn’t get any farther due to the press of our bodies.
He tensed as I stroked the left side of the V on his lower body.
“What are you doing?” He tried to step back.
All that did was allow me to get to the thing that I most wanted.
“I want to do something,” I said.
“Do what?” He looked at me worriedly, backing up a step and encountering the toilet.
“I’ll be quick…” I said, dropping down to my knees.
Saint’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “I can’t do this here. There’s… oh, holy shit.”
In all honesty, Saint lost a bit of control there for a moment.
Long seconds after he was finished, his chest heaving, he looked down at me still on the ground between his splayed thighs.
“I… shit. Your father’s never going to say yes now.” He covered his face with his hands. “I just defiled his daughter under his own roof.”
I rolled my eyes and stood up, walking to my sink where I brushed my teeth and washed my face.
“Get dressed. It took you all of like, two seconds. We’re not going to be caught.”
He grumbled something under his breath but nonetheless started to do what I said.
“How do you feel about going to visit my father?” he asked softly. “I don’t want to go alone.”
I studie
d his tired eyes.
His glasses had smudges on them.
I pulled them off his face and cleaned his glasses on my shirt. When I felt they were clean enough, I replaced them on his face.
“I’d go anywhere with you. Even to meet the former president.”
CHAPTER 20
Santa saw your photos on Instagram. You’re getting a Bible for Christmas.
-Coffee Cup
SAINT
I wasn’t really sure about Christmas.
Never really had been, either.
But I was sure that I’d enjoy spending it with Carolina.
After her assault—or more like care?—in the bathroom, she left, taking Smoke with her. I got dressed and pocketed my phone before heading out to find them.
They were all sitting out by the Christmas tree in the living room.
All of my presents for Carolina—and a few for her parents, one for each of her brothers—were now under their tree.
I grinned and went to the one and only seat left. The recliner next to the fire.
The fire that was burning hot and melting off skin the moment I sat down—which was likely why no one was sitting there.
I got up and moved it closer to Carolina, who looked amused.
“Everyone ready?” Nikki asked.
Carolina clapped her hands. “Do you have mine under there?”
Nikki rolled her eyes. “Yes. They’re at the back, though, so your brothers couldn’t see them.”
Nikki started to hand out presents then, and before long, Carolina’s pile looked massive compared to everyone else’s.
“What are you trying to prove, Nicholson?” Connor asked. “She’ll like you even when you don’t buy her presents.”
I shrugged. “I’ve never bought presents for anyone before. It was… fun. I couldn’t stop myself once I’d started.”
“Who the hell wrapped those?” Michael asked.
“I had the people I purchased them from do it. They’re fancy, right?” I asked as I stopped one of Carolina’s presents from toppling over the whole stack.
“I think we should all watch her open her presents,” Clayton suggested. “I’m interested in how one is able to get presents while in quarantine.”
Depends On Who's Asking (SWAT Generation 2.0 Book 12) Page 17
