Season's Greetings : Christmas Box Set

by Shyla Colt

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Faye?”

  What is it with delicious-sounding British men tonight?

  “You called me. Shouldn’t you know?”

  “Right. My name is James, and I think I found your dog, Monty.”

  “Oh my God.” My voice catches in my throat. “Is he okay?”

  “Scared, cold, and hungry, but I’ve warmed him up and given him some food.”

  “He’s just a puppy. You didn’t give him regular dog food, did you?”

  He chuckles. “It just so happens that I’m a veterinarian, so I’m pretty sure I know what I’m doing.”

  “Jesus. You must think I’m a horrible dog mom.”

  “I’m not here to judge. I’m just happy he’s safe.” He clears his throat. “Though I have to ask why he’s got no identification.”

  “I just got him today. The person who came over wasn’t aware I had a dog, and once he was startled, he was off like a flash.”

  “Beagles are faster than they look.”

  “Yeah. I’ve learned that.”

  “Well, I know it’s Christmas Eve. So, if you want to arrange to pick him up tomorrow sometime—”

  “No.” I clear my throat. “It was just going to be the two of us this evening, and I really need to see him.”

  “Okay.” His voice softens. “I can give you my address.”

  Monty yips in the background. Relief flows through me.

  “I’m in the car. Can you drop me a pin?”

  “I can. How long have you been out searching?”

  “Since four.”

  “That’s no way to spend Christmas Eve.”

  “I think Monty had it worse.”

  My phone chimes.

  “Okay, I got your pin. I’ll be there in the next thirty minutes.”

  “I’ll see you then.”

  We disconnect, and the knot in my stomach loosens. It’s going to be okay. I’ll get Monty back, head home, and forget the last couple of hours happened.

  AS I PULL UP TO THE white, two-story home with the gray and black stone accents on the bottom, I whistle. How much does a vet make yearly? Pulling into the driveway behind a forest green truck, I put the car into park.

  He works on animals for a living, and he rescued a dog from the snow. So, he can’t be entirely awful, right? My mind flashes to Preston, and I cringe. What looks good on paper doesn’t always translate well into real life. I pat my purse reassuringly, thinking of the pepper spray I keep on hand. I’ll go in, thank him, and abscond with my dog. Simple.

  Exiting the car, I rush up the walk, grateful for the porch that blocks the wind as I ring the doorbell and wait. The door swings open, and my jaw drops.

  “It’s you,” we say at the same time. The insanely attractive, green-eyed man with brownish blond hair that falls artfully across his brow who saved me earlier is standing in front of me with Monty against his chest.

  “Faye?” he whispers.

  I nod dumbly. The man has caught me in two of the most embarrassing situations of my life. Can I please melt into a metallic puddle like Alex Max and disappear?

  “James?”

  “Yeah. Wow. What are the odds?”

  “Very low.”

  “Please, come in out of the cold.”

  “Oh, it’s okay. I’ll just—” The baby chooses to sit on my bladder, and my choice is taken away. “Do you have a bathroom?”

  His eyebrows fly up.

  “The baby seems to think my bladder is a bounce house, so ...”

  “Oh. Yeah. Sorry. It’s just down the hall, second door on the right.” He waves me in, directing me like an air traffic controller with sticks.

  “Thank you.” Quickly stripping off my boots, I step out onto the carpet and beat a hasty retreat to the restroom. I can already tell I’m going to have my hands full with the little girl inside of my belly. “You had to choose now to woman handle Mom’s bladder? I was trying to make a smooth getaway, little girl.” I rub the bulge fondly as I step into the bathroom and close the door behind me.

  After handling my business, I wash my hands and admire his cleanliness. From what I’ve seen, his house is more than neat. It’s orderly and spotless. He is a doctor, though. Still, his room could be a gross disaster. This is just the area he’d expect others to see. My experience with Preston has left me wary of others. That’s one of the things I hate most about our break up. I can heal my heart, but I can’t change my new perceptions.

  I step into the hallway. The sound of metal on metal makes me jump. I cry out, and the baby jerks inside of me. Grabbing my stomach, I try to calm my racing heart.

  “Faye.” James is by my side, gently gripping my arm.

  “I’m sorry. W-We were both startled.” I place a hand over my heart.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  I nod.

  “Come on, let’s get you onto the couch, and I’ll see what the hell that was.” He ushers me over to the navy-blue couch. I give a grateful moan as the cushion gives me a soft hug.

  “Here.” He moves a footstool over and props my feet up.

  “You don’t have to—”

  “You’re growing a human. Whatever you want is yours when it comes to me.”

  My eyes widen. Where did this guy come from? Oh, that’s right, Britain, according to his accent.

  A small bark reaches my ears. I smile down at Monty, who rests his paws on the cushion beside my legs.

  “You gave me a scare, you naughty little thing.” I scoop him up and onto my lap. “No more of that, okay? Your mama can’t take it.”

  His subdued yip sounds repentant.

  “You should be sorry.” I bop him on the nose and use a stern voice. He whimpers.

  “Faye?”

  “Yes.” I turn to find James standing in front of his window. “I have good news, and I have bad news.”

  “Give me the good news.”

  “The streets have been cleared.”

  “That’s excellent. I was sliding on my way in. What’s the bad news?”

  “They took out a few cars on the street, and your car was one of them.”

  “What?” I sit up and scoot to the edge. Ignoring the exhaustion trying to settle in, I push up off the couch and come to stand beside him. I cover my mouth with my hand and gasp at the twisted, dented metal that was once my car.

  “You have insurance, right?”

  “Yes, but this won’t be an easy fix.”

  “No, but it’s the city’s fault, so there’ll be no contest. If we need footage for proof, I have a camera outside that I’m sure captured it.”

  My head drops. I hug my belly as tears flood my eyes.

  “I know this isn’t what either of us planned, but to be honest, it beats my plans for spending Christmas alone. I’ve been told I make for decent company.”

  I glance over at him, and he offers up a tentative smile. My lower lip trembles as I give him a watery smile.

  Monty barks.

  “See, he agrees. We can make the best out of the situation. How about we start things off by feeding you. Everything is better on a full stomach.”

  “I couldn’t impose.”

  My stomach rumbles loudly. “Flora does not feel the same way.”

  He smiles, and his eyes lighten to a jade hue. “Flora? Is that her name?”

  I nod shyly. “If I win the battle with the ex. He wants to name her Brigette.”

  James’ mouth forms an O. I admire the pucker, eying the full bottom lip that begs to be sampled. “That is a mouthful.”

  “What else can I expect from a Preston?”

  James coughs to cover a laugh. “Those are your words, not mine.”

  “How incredibly P.C. of you, James. Can I ask where you’re from?” I toss my hair over my shoulder and angle my body toward his. Why am I flirting? Oh, because he’s freaking gorgeous with a panty-melting accent.

  “London originally.”

  “I thought so. I’m pretty good at
deciphering accents.”

  “Good on you.” He winks.

  My breasts swell for a completely different reason than pregnancy. I press my thighs together and look out the window.

  The street cleaner had gotten out of his vehicle and begun to locate the owners of the cars.

  “It’ll be a while before they get to you. I don’t want you standing out in the cold.”

  His words warm me. You’re pregnant, don’t read too much into things. Of course, his instinct is to take care of you. It’s built into their D.N.A. Except, Preston seems okay leaving you alone for long stints of time while he sets up his new life in California. Everything he does is antagonistic and calculating.

  “Hey.” James runs his warm hand down my arm. “Are you okay?” It’s calloused. A hand that belongs to a hard worker.

  “Yes, sorry. Just thinking.” My stomach protests like an angry monster.

  “I think the little lady wants more food and less thought.” His lips turn up at the corners, and I giggle. He’s sweet, with biceps that stretch out his black Henley and big hands that make me wonder if his large feet are a proper prediction of what’s under his gray sweatpants.

  Okay, the hormone thing is out of control. I just need food. They say you can eat your emotions. I hope lust is included in that.

  JAMES

  I can’t help but stare at the beautiful woman seated across from me as she bites down on a cotton candy-flavored grape. Her back arches, her eyes drift shut, and she hums in a way that makes me think of a different kind of hunger slacking. I fixed her snack to tide her over while I prepare a traditional British meal. I half-heartedly stir the mushy peas. With her oval-shaped face, large doe eyes, and glowing, honey-kissed skin, she’s stunning. But it’s Faye’s inherent sweetness and the serenity that flows from her that pulls me to her like a magnet.

  How could any man treat a woman like this ... let alone one carrying his child? I wonder, recalling the way the man at the store acted. Dark brown hair frames her face and curls around the generous swell of her breasts. My hands itch to cup them, test their weight, and see how she responds. Aren’t they supposed to be more sensitive during pregnancy? Would she make more of the irresistible sounds spilling from between her plump lips if I did?

  She moans, and my cock twitches in response. I turn to face the stove to hide my growing problem. I think of the biting wind whipping outside.

  “These are my current obsession. It’s one of the few cravings I don’t mind.” Her soft voice spreads warmth throughout my body. Is this what it’s like to have someone home with you? I’d nearly forgotten.

  “What are the other ones?” I latch onto the small talk to further distract myself. It’s been a long time since I was this attracted to a woman.

  “Ugh. Roasted red bell peppers, and gravy on just about anything.”

  I chuckle. “I take it those weren’t a part of your usual diet?”

  “No. I loathe them. My parents think it’s hilarious.”

  “Oh, where do they live?” I ask, remembering she was spending the holidays alone.

  “Not too far from here.” Her voice is subdued and tinged with sadness.

  “I’m sorry, are they ill?” I glance over my shoulder.

  “No.” Her lower lip trembles and she blinks rapidly.

  I turn off the strove and move the peas to the side. “Hey.” I go over and stand beside her. “What’s wrong?” I shove my hands in my pockets to keep from touching her.

  “My parents don’t approve.”

  “Of the baby?” I whisper, shocked.

  She gives a curt shake of her head. “Of my decision to raise the baby on my own and end my engagement.”

  “I’m sure you had a good reason.”

  “He took a job in California three months before our wedding without telling me. He expected me to rearrange my life to suit his.” She shakes her head. “I never saw that side of him. Not in the two years we were together.”

  Disgust turns my stomach. What kind of megalomaniac is this guy?

  “I’m sorry.” I take her hand gently in mine. “For what it’s worth, I think you dodged a bullet.”

  “I thought so, too. I mean, I was devastated but at peace with my decision. A lie that big shouldn’t be ignored. It’s no way to go into life together. Then ...” her voice cracks, “I missed my period.”

  Understanding slams into me like a semi. “You didn’t know you were pregnant when you ended things?”

  She shakes her head and sniffs. “No. And suddenly, everyone who supported my choice switched to team Preston. He’s a wealthy doctor with a promising future.”

  “Life is more than money and status,” I answer automatically.

  “Yeah, but it helps. As a nurse, I don’t make half of what Preston does.”

  “And yet, doctors could never do their job without you. You help a lot of people. It’s an admirable job.” I watch her face light up.

  “I love it.” Her shoulders slump. “But I wonder from time to time if I’m selfish.” She shakes her head and swipes at her eyes with her opposite hand. “I don’t know why I’m spilling my guts to you. Maybe because you’ve already seen me at my worst.”

  “I’m happy to listen.” I squeeze her hand. “I think you’re an amazing, beautiful woman who’s remaining true to herself. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with a mother having a career. You can love both your child and the passion that ignites the spark that lives inside of us all.”

  Smiling up at me, she sighs as her tears trail off. “Thank you for that.”

  “I can’t say I understand your situation completely, but I can relate in some ways. When I first started my practice, plenty of people thought I was foolish for putting my life on hold. It was a lot of man-hours and focused attention. I missed out on other opportunities.”

  Her fingers caress my cheek. “Someone hurt you?”

  “Clare and I dated for four years and were engaged for another. It was understood we’d marry once things settled down at the vet’s office—” The memories rush back, clogging my throat.

  “She got tired of waiting?”

  I nod. “Clare wanted the white dress and babies sooner than I could give it to her. I wasn’t content to be a dad who never saw his children. I want to be hands-on like my father was. We parted ways. It wasn’t the happiest time of my life.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I lean down, close enough for our breaths to mingle. “I like to believe things happen for a reason.”

  She licks her lips. “Same.”

  Pop. She jumps, and I mentally swear. “Well, now you know why we call it Bangers and Mash.”

  “I didn’t realize the process was so violent.”

  “You know us Brits. We like to do things with flare.”

  “All you have to do is talk for that to happen,” she mumbles.

  “Like my accent, do you?”

  Her cheeks darken slightly. “Who doesn’t?”

  I plate up our food, and just as I slide hers in front of her, a knock sounds on the door.

  “Go ahead and dig in. I’ll be right back.” I enjoy seeing her eat things I’ve prepared. It wakes some ancient instinct inside of me, providing for a woman growing a baby. I want to keep her comfortable and happy. Don’t forget, she’s not yours. I open the door and find the gray-haired city worker bundled in his brown work gear with neon reflective tape stripes, a badge, and the city’s emblem on his chest.

  “Good evening, sir. We’ve been working our way through the cars involved in the incident outside, collecting all the necessary information.”

  “Please come in. Faye’s the owner of the SUV She’s pregnant, and I don’t want her out in the cold for longer than is necessary.”

  “Oh, of course.”

  “I’ll go get her if you don’t mind waiting here, please.”

  “Sure thing.”

  I walk down the hallway to the kitchen. The bliss on her face as she dips a piece of sausage into the mashed p
otatoes and brings them to her lips has me dry-mouthed. I clear my throat. She peers up.

  “There’s a city worker here to talk to you about the accident and get your information.”

  “Oh, of course. Crap.” She sighs. “My purse is still in the car.”

  “I’ll get it.”

  “No. No. I’m not an invalid.” Her chin tilts stubbornly, and I opt to back down. I hold my hands up.

  “All right.”

  She smiles and nods, satisfied. “Thank you for the meal. It was amazing.”

  “I’m glad you liked it.” I walk over and offer her my hand, helping her stand as I guide her to the front door.

  “Hi,” Faye says brightly.

  The man smiles. “Hello, ma’am. I’m Charles, and I’ll be gathering your information for the incident. The company will be contacting your insurance company tonight.”

  “That’s wonderful. I just need to step outside and get my purse.”

  “Please, take your time,” Charles says.

  Removing her coat from the stand, I help her into the warm outerwear and zip her up without thinking.

  “You’re really into caring for others, aren’t you?” She arches a brow.

  I nod. You don’t feel like just anyone.

  “I’ll come with you in case the door is hard to get open.”

  “Smart thinking.” After carefully traversing the snow-coated drive, she unlocks the passenger door and grabs her black bag off the seat. Closing it behind her, she steps forward and slips.

  I grab her arm, pulling her against me. Her body presses into mine, and the sweet floral scent of her hair reaches my nostrils. I grip her hips tightly. “You okay?”

  “Y-Yes,” she whispers shakily. A small force pushes against me. “Flora says thanks, too.”

  “You’re both very welcome.” I carefully peel away from her. “Let’s get you back inside.” I watch for slick spots as we make our way back to the house slower than we’d come.

  They exchange information and make their claim quickly. The snow is continuing to fall, and the worker wants to get home. I see him out, and return to find her looking worn out.

  “Why don’t we relocate to the living room? I’ll make hot chocolate, and we can see what’s on the television.”