'Tis the Season for Romance

by Kristen Proby

  “Me, too.”

  She plops back onto the couch, and her black cat, Luna, jumps onto the arm of the sofa next to her, eyeing me suspiciously.

  “I feel like your cat is judging me.”

  “Yeah, she judges everyone.” Sidney reaches out to scratch the feline behind her ears. “Don’t you, baby?”

  And, just like that, Luna jumps down, flicks her tail, and saunters away.

  “She’s a diva,” Sidney says with a shrug. “Now, tell me the juicy news.”

  “I have juicy news?” My lips are all the way numb now, and I’m floating on a delightful buzz. “These drinks are potent. And delicious.”

  “We’ll keep making more,” Sidney says and passes me the basket of chips. “And yes, you have news. Who is this Nick? And why didn’t I know about him before?”

  “Ah. Nick.” Just the sound of his name has my blood warming in my veins.

  Or maybe that’s the alcohol.

  “He’s a hottie,” Sid says.

  “Right? Like, why does he look like that? He must have hit the genetic jackpot. He’s kind of my client.”

  I explain how I know him, and then cover my mouth with my hand and stare at my cousin in horror.

  “You can’t repeat that. It’s confidential.”

  “I’m not going to tell anyone,” she says. “So, does this mean you can’t have sex with him?”

  “I don’t know. He kissed me.” I shove a chip into my mouth. “And I liked it.”

  “Yeah, I can see where that wouldn’t suck, Jordan.”

  I giggle and sip my drink. “I would kiss him again. He’s hot. He’s also very grouchy.”

  “That’s not hot.”

  “But then I called him out on it, and he got better.”

  “Did he apologize?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, that’s progress. You should do him. He can be your rebound sex since the odds are you won’t marry him.”

  I blink at her. At both of her. “Why can’t I marry him?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, you probably could. If you want to. Do you want to? Jesus, we’ve had too much to drink.”

  “I don’t know if I want to marry him. He doesn’t like Christmas.”

  “Is he a Nazi?”

  I grin at her. “I don’t think so. Maybe he had a tragic childhood where his parents died in a fire, and he lived the rest of his life in an orphanage with no Christmas presents.”

  “Oh my God, did he tell you that?”

  “No, I’m just guessing.”

  “You’re so dramatic when you drink,” Sid says. “You could probably talk him into liking Christmas a little bit. What else do we know?”

  “Not a lot,” I admit, and I don’t like that realization. “I’m going to get to know him better. He’s my patient, after all.”

  “And you can get to know him while you’re naked.”

  “Yes. No. Wait.”

  Sidney dissolves into laughter. “This is going to be fun.”

  I yawn. “I should probably head back. But I can’t drive.”

  “I can’t drive either.”

  I nod, thinking it over. “It’s not that cold out. I can walk. The snow is nice.”

  “Take my flashlight with you,” she says, gesturing to the end table with a drawer. “It’s in there. The bears are sleeping, so you should be safe.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.”

  Sidney’s stretched out on her couch, and she’s falling asleep when I take our glasses and the last of the chips into the kitchen. I shrug into my coat and lean over to kiss her cheek.

  “I missed you.”

  “Mm-hmm,” she says. “Be careful.”

  I let myself out of her condo and take a deep breath. The cold air feels so good. It doesn’t even feel too frigid. It snowed all day today, leaving about six new inches of powder on the ground, but the sky is clear now and full of stars.

  I’d walk on the sidewalk, but it hasn’t been plowed. Neither has the street, actually, but I can walk in the tire ruts.

  I wore my big, puffy jacket over to Sid’s, and as I walk, I feel warm, so I unzip it and let the air flow around me. I can’t feel my toes anyway, and my nose starts to drip just a bit.

  But it feels fantastic.

  I love Montana.

  I love Sidney.

  And I love margaritas.

  The air around me is hushed from the snow and well-lit from the moon. It’s an easy walk to the lake house where the sexy-as-all-get-out Nick is.

  I want to jump his bones. Bad. Like, I just want to strip myself naked and tell him to come ‘n’ get it. Which is so not like me. I’ve only ever been with Jeremy, and that wasn’t really anything fantastic or worth writing home about.

  But I think Sidney’s right. I could totally have sex with Nick. He could be my rebound. It sounds fun.

  I walk up the driveway and see that only Nick’s car is here. I have no idea what time it is.

  I try to open the door but then remember that my keys are in my purse.

  And my purse is still at Sidney’s condo.

  “Damn it,” I mutter and ring the doorbell. It’s like deja vu from the day I first arrived.

  Nick pulls open the door and frowns down at me. “Oh, my God. Are you okay? Did your car break down?”

  “No. I walked. Because I’m drunk.”

  He blinks, and then his frown turns into a scowl. “You walked?”

  “Sure. It’s not far.”

  “It’s the middle of the fucking night,” he says and then takes me in from head to toe. “And you don’t have boots, gloves, or a hat.”

  “Nope. Isn’t it great? It felt so good. And you’re killing my buzz, so let me inside.”

  He steps back, and I walk past him.

  “I have to remember to call Sid tomorrow. I forgot my purse there. She has a condom purse.”

  “A what?”

  “A purse that’s only big enough for condoms. Because, you know, a girl has to be prepared for anything. Do you have condoms?”

  I let my coat slide down my arms and land in a heap on the floor. Before I can bend over to get it, Nick does it for me, and his hand brushes mine.

  “You’re fucking freezing. Come on.”

  He leads me into the living room in front of the fireplace.

  “Do you?” I ask again.

  “Do I what?”

  “Have condoms.”

  He shakes his head. “I think so, yeah. Do you need some?”

  “Maybe, if things go well. It’s good to be prepared, you know?”

  “So you said.” His jaw clenches. Maybe the thought of having sex with me isn’t a good one. It seems to have made him grumpier.

  “Why are you grouchy again?”

  “Because you walked home in the middle of the damn night. If you needed a ride, you should have called me.”

  “I don’t have your number,” I say, realizing that for the first time.

  “Give me your phone.”

  “Bossy,” I mutter as I take my cell out of my pocket. After it’s unlocked, I pass it over. He taps the screen a few times and then hands it back. “Now I have your number. But I was perfectly safe.”

  “You were alone after midnight.”

  “Yeah, in Cunningham Falls, Montana, Nick. What did you think would happen? The bears are asleep.”

  “Just call me next time.”

  “I don’t do this often,” I say with a sigh. “And you might have totally killed my buzz. It was so nice. I don’t remember the last time I had drinks with Sid. Also? Her cat is a judgy bitch.”

  He raises a brow.

  “I mean, all I did was drink margaritas and talk about having sex with you.”

  Both brows raise.

  “We haven’t had sex.”

  I sigh. “I know. It’s sad. But it’s okay. I guess the thought of having sex with me makes you grouchy, because all I did was mention condoms, and you looked like you wanted to punch someone.”

&nbs
p; “Only because I thought you wanted to use the condoms with someone else.”

  I blink at him. “Who?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Me either. So, it’s not a bad idea?”

  “Oh, it’s probably a colossally terrible idea,” he says with a laugh. “But I’m having a hard time keeping my hands to myself.”

  “You’re actually doing a very good job of it. You haven’t touched me much. Is it because I’m a pressional?”

  “A what?”

  “A pressional. You know, a nurse.”

  “A professional?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  He laughs, his shoulders relax, and his eyes warm up. “No. That’s not why.”

  “Oh. Why, then?”

  “Because I’m not going to sexually harass you.”

  I frown. “I don’t feel harassed.”

  “Good.” He takes my hands and pulls me to my feet. “On a scale of one to ten, how drunk are you?”

  “I’d say I’m still solidly around a five.”

  “Damn.” He sighs, his eyes are on my lips. “Because when I take you, it won’t be when you don’t have all your wits about you.”

  “You’re an honorable guy.”

  His lips twitch. “It’s a damn shame.”

  “Nah, it’s good. Because if you were a dick, I wouldn’t be thinking about taking all of my clothes off right now.”

  “Fucking hell,” he whispers and clenches his eyes shut. “You’d tempt the pope.”

  “He’s too old for me.” I press in closer, wanting to feel the heat of him. I want him naked, and I want him to do things to me.

  Sexy things.

  But it’s not going to happen tonight.

  “Nick?”

  “Yes.”

  “I think I might throw up.”

  Chapter 6

  ~Nick~

  She presses her hand over her mouth and takes a deep breath.

  “Whoa, easy there.” I rub big circles over her back, but she stands like she’s going to make a run for it, so I pull her into my arms and continue rubbing her back as I kiss the top of her head. “Just breathe, sweetheart. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Nice and easy.”

  She does as I say, several times, and then lets out a long sigh.

  “Okay. I think it’s over.”

  “Did you have a nice time tonight?” I push aside the thought of her talking about sex and taking all of her clothes off. Those thoughts will only lead to an uncomfortable night because she’s in no shape for sex.

  “Yeah.” Her voice is small against my chest. “It was fun. Even the walk home.”

  That’s something we’ll talk about again tomorrow. I don’t care if we are in the middle of a safe, rural town, I don’t want her walking alone, especially late at night.

  “Let’s get you into bed.”

  She looks up at me with tired eyes. “I can’t do the sex tonight. I thought I could, but I’m tired. And not sexy.”

  “I always think you’re sexy.” I lift her easily into my arms, pleased when my injured shoulder doesn’t sing in pain. She’s a tiny little thing. Jordan presses her face to my neck as I climb the stairs and walk down the hall to her bedroom. I set her on the bed and turn to the dresser to snag some kind of nightshirt. “Can you change by yourself?”

  She blinks her eyes open. “Sure.”

  “Good.” I pass her the shirt and walk into the bathroom, where I make myself useful by wetting a washcloth. I take my time, wanting to make sure Jordan’s changed by the time I return to her room.

  It’s just my luck that she’s bent over the bed, pulling the covers back. She’s in her little red T-shirt and black knickers, and I have a perfect view of her arse.

  My dick gives zero fucks that we aren’t having sex tonight.

  I close my eyes and think of spaghetti. My grandmother. The London Eye.

  And when I open them again, Jordan’s in bed, frowning at me.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Meditating,” I reply. It’s not a lie. I cross to her, sit near her hip, and press the cold cloth to her forehead.

  “Oh, that’s nice.”

  “It should help with the nausea.”

  “I never knew this trick, and I’m a nurse.” She swallows hard. “You shouldn’t have carried me up the stairs.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you have an injured shoulder. That’s the whole reason I’m here, to keep you from doing things like that. It was totally irresponsible of me.”

  “My shoulder did just fine.”

  Her eyes are closed, but her legs are restless, moving under the covers.

  “Are you hurting?” I ask.

  “No, I like the way the cool sheets feel against my skin.”

  I want to climb in there with her. I want to hold her close and protect her.

  And if I’m being brutally honest with myself, that scares the ever-loving shite out of me.

  I hardly know this woman. I want to know more. I want to learn more. I’m drawn to her, and I don’t understand why, but I’m not willing to stop now.

  She looks so small, so beautiful against the white sheets in the moonlight.

  I refold the cloth and press the cold side against her skin.

  “I don’t like to be too hot,” she continues. “Arizona is too hot.”

  “Get some sleep, beautiful girl.”

  Her eyes open and find mine. “You’re a nice person, Nick. Sometimes, you’re grumpy. But mostly, you’re genuinely nice, and I think that’s way sexier than your muscles for days.”

  I feel my lips twitch in response. “I think that’s the alcohol talking.”

  She just smiles and closes her eyes again. I lean over to press my lips to her forehead. By the time I leave the room, she’s breathing deeply and evenly.

  I jog down the stairs to the kitchen, grab a beer, and then walk into the living room to stare into the fire.

  I’ve always put the job first. Since I was a child, it’s been the only constant in my life—and my biggest passion. I’m still looking forward to getting back to my position.

  But for the first time in my life, something has distracted me. That makes me think maybe there’s something more for me than work. Liam made it work. Yes, he had to leave the job, but I wouldn’t be with a princess. Other guards that work for the royal family have spouses and children.

  Children.

  I drain the rest of my beer and drag my hand through my hair.

  Christ. I need sleep.

  The noise coming from downstairs is loud and constant. I roll over, the sheets tangling around my hips as I check the time.

  Nine.

  I don’t remember the last time I slept this late. Usually, I only catch a couple of hours at a time. It’s a force of habit and a consequence of the job.

  I push to the side of the bed and reach for my jeans. I pull them up over my bare hips and, without fastening them, walk over to the closet to find a shirt.

  After I use the facilities, I go to investigate the sounds coming from down below. I stop at the entrance to the kitchen and watch in fascination as Jordan pulls a sheet of cookies out of the oven and sets them on a wire rack to cool. The entire kitchen is covered in bowls and pans, flour, and eggs.

  It looks like a bakery exploded.

  “Good morning,” Jordan says with a big smile. “I hope I didn’t wake you. I didn’t turn any music on or anything, even though I normally would while I bake. But I figured you must be really tired because we were up so late last night.”

  “I don’t usually sleep much,” I admit as I sit on a stool and watch her bustle about. It smells good in here.

  “I made you muffins for breakfast,” she says and reaches for a platter. “Huckleberry. As a thanks for last night. You really shouldn’t have carried me, by the way. But I appreciate you being so nice.”

  “Did you expect me to let you fend for yourself?”

  “Oh, that’s what I’m u
sed to,” she says. There’s no censure in her voice, it’s just a simple statement of fact.

  It makes me want to punch the bloody wall.

  “Oh, and here, I’m making you some coffee to go with your muffins.”

  She hustles over to the single-cup coffee maker and pops in a pod. When it’s finished brewing, she pours just the right amount of cream in and passes it to me.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks with a laugh.

  “Are you the same woman who was pissed last night?”

  “Yeah.” She cringes. “Sorry.”

  “How are you not hungover?”

  “I never get hungover,” she says and wrinkles her nose. “I know, it’s not fair. I also don’t drink much, so just a couple of drinks make me completely tipsy. It’s ridiculous. I’m a cheap date, and I feel great the next morning.”

  I bite into a muffin and almost fall out of my chair. This might be the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.

  Until I taste her.

  “Well? What do you think?”

  “I think I’ll be eating this whole platter.”

  She laughs and goes to work rolling out cookie dough.

  “That’s okay. I have more set aside for tomorrow. Do you have plans today?”

  I sip my coffee and watch her move about the kitchen. Her movements are concise. Sure. When she reaches above her head for another bowl, I catch a glimpse of pale skin at her stomach, and it’s almost enough to bring me to my knees.

  “Nick?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you have plans?”

  “No.”

  “Good. You can help me decorate all of these cookies. Then we’ll take them and deliver them to people.”

  “Why?”

  She frowns. “Because it’s fun.”

  I reach for another muffin.

  “Haven’t you ever made Christmas cookies before?”

  “No.”

  “Never?”

  “Never.”

  She wiggles a cookie cutter in flour and then pauses, looking at me. “Did your parents die in a fire, leaving you to be raised in an orphanage?”

  I bark out a laugh of surprise. “No.”

  “Good.”

  “My parents died in a car accident when I was a boy. I was raised by my grandmother.”