“What the hell are you doing?”
“Did your hookup leave already? Usually, Bambi or Barbie comes bubbling in here by now.”
“I’ve never hooked up with anyone by those names.” I don’t think. I push off the counter and pull out a chair directly in front of her.
“Oh, I bet at least one of those girls had that name.”
She may be right. Most of the time, I don’t know their names or remember them after they leave. Something I never cared about until now that I’m staring at my objectively attractive younger sister. I certainly wouldn’t want a prick taking advantage of her. My hand tightens around the mug at the thought.
“I didn’t hook up with anyone last night.” Or for the past three weeks, for that matter. Not from a lack of trying. Ever since a certain blonde-headed girl slammed back into my life, I can’t follow through with the score. It’s like Mia’s memory cockblocks me. And it’s only a memory. I’ve only seen her once since the photo shoot, but I’ve thought about her fiery blue eyes glaring back at me every single day. She’s spunkier than I remember. We always had good banter between us, but she was more innocent back then.
“No wonder you’re grouchy. What’s the matter, big brother? Losing your touch?”
“Hardly.” I push off the counter and join her at the table. “When are you heading home?”
Her gaze drops, and she takes a long sip before answering. “As soon as I get ready.”
“Make sure you let Mom know.”
She tosses me a look, but my bases need to be covered. Otherwise, Mom will worry, and the last thing we want is a worried mother.
We finish our coffee, and I head to the living room with her tagging behind me.
“It’s four weeks before Christmas; don’t you think you should get your tree?”
I glance at the empty space that would otherwise be occupied by the Christmas tradition and grunt. “Jax was the decorator. Since he’s practically living in New York, I wasn’t going to mess with it.”
Her gasp fills the air, and I turn a surprised glance toward her.
“What?” I ask.
“We’re Catholic. It’s a requirement to have one.”
“I somehow missed that in religion class.”
Her eyes narrow at my flat tone. “You’re ridiculous. You have to get one.”
“Why? It’s not like I have anything to decorate it with. Jax took care of all that. And he’s moved most of his stuff to his house.
“Seriously. It’s like I don’t even know you. Ever since Jax left, this apartment is nothing but depressing. You’re in dire need of holiday cheer around here.”
“And you think a Christmas tree will do the trick?”
“Of course. What screams merriment more than a tree?” When I don’t answer, she flicks her hand at me and walks away. “I’m getting ready and then taking off.”
“It’s just a tree.”
“You’re being a Grinch,” she hollers behind her.
“Text Mom that you’re going home.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
The door clicks shut, and I turn back to the empty corner where the tree stands every year. Jax spends most of his time in New York, and I hate to admit, without him, the space is a little depressing. A Grinch, though? I’m not all “Bah! Humbug!” about Christmas. I glance toward Cara’s door and then back to the corner’s vacant hardwood floor.
Well, damn. Looks like I’m getting a tree.
Two hours later, I pull up to Smith Brothers’ Tree Farm. Vehicles are parked everywhere, but I somehow manage to find a spot. Serves me right for listening to Cara.
I hop to the ground, and about twenty yards away, a baled Christmas tree sways in the hands of some female. All I see is an off-white parka holding on to a tree. I chuckle under my breath and pace the distance to help. When I approach her backside, I freeze from the sight of the royal blue vehicle parked to the side. The very car that is tinier than the Douglas Fir currently threatening to take the woman down.
Mia?
Chapter Eleven
MIA
Current Day
Beads of sweat roll down the side of my face as the frigid weather stings my cheeks. How is that even possible? I wrap my arms tighter around the branches and tug upward, giving it my all. It barely lifts off the ground. “You will comply, you piece of Christmas crap.”
“Whoa, Cupcake. What on earth are you doing?”
At the sound of that voice, I stop trying to lift the bundled tree—emphasis on the word trying—and a branch springs loose from the twine and slaps me across the face. I flinch from the sudden sting, but I don’t know what makes me angrier: the fact I’m too short to manhandle this tree or the last man I want to see me in this predicament now stands behind me—laughing.
Asshole.
I turn around and narrow my eyes. My cheek burns, but I don’t dare rub it. I don’t want to appear weak in front of him, but I’m afraid if I let go I won’t be able to hang on. This tree is freakishly heavy.
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m buying a Christmas tree.”
His laughter dies, and his eyes widen as his gaze lands on my now numb cheek.
“It looks like you went to battle with a tree, and the tree’s winning. Are you okay?” He gestures to my face.
“I’m fine.” I wave off his concern despite wanting to grab a handful of snow and turn it into a makeshift ice pack. Dang, that hurts.
“Where’s their help?” He glances toward the wooden shack by the entrance. A bright green sign reads “All Xmas Trees $50.”
“They were short staffed due to the sale, so I told them I could handle it.”
We both turn to look at my car and then back at the tree.
“How did you expect to get it home? I think the tree’s bigger than the car.”
“What are you doing here anyway?” I scoff, not wanting to admit he’s right.
“It’s a tree farm. I’m getting a tree.”
His matter-of-fact tone grates on my last nerve, but I am a little shocked he’s buying a tree. Somehow, I don’t see this burly man decorating for the holidays.
“This is the place to get one. They have quite a few to choose from.” I inhale deeply. “I suppose I better get going.”
“Here, let me help.” AJ lifts the tree up, as if the trunk is nothing more than a popsicle, and drapes it across the roof of my car. The length hangs over both panes of glass. Crap, I won’t be able to see forward nor behind me.
I throw a desperate look toward him. He presses his lips together, and I can tell he’s trying hard not to laugh, again.
“Uh”—he scratches the back of his head and squints at the car—“you want me to lift the car up and place it in the back of my bed?”
That earns him a glare, but I must admit he refrains from laughing.
“Are you in a hurry?”
“No.”
“Why don’t you help me pick out a tree, since you seem to be an expert, and I’ll haul yours home for you.”
I bite my lip and study the monstrosity engulfing my car. The help would be nice, especially when I go to drag it up three flights of stairs. I really didn’t think this purchase through.
“Deal.”
“What?” He mocks surprise. “You’re not going to give me shit?”
I punch his arm. “You want to help or not?”
His chuckle glides over my skin and settles in places it has no business being. This guy is definitely dangerous to my willpower.
“Settle down half-pint. I’ll place this on my bed, then we’ll go find me one of these things.”
Once he secures the tree in his trunk, he turns back to me. His gaze roams down my coat and lands on my stiletto knee boots. His eyebrows disappear behind his stocking cap.
“High heels at a tree farm? Mmm, sexy.”
I roll my eyes. “What are you, seventeen?”
He laughs. “At seventeen or twenty-nine, high heels will always be sexy, Cupcake.”
“Just get going.”
He laughs as we make our way toward the aisles.
“What kind of tree are you looking for?”
He glances down at me with a questionable look. “One with pine needles?”
“They all have needles.” The smell of pine surrounds us as we enter a row, and I breathe in the scent. “I mean, do you want a short, fat one or a tall, skinny one.”
“I’m partial to shorties.”
My gaze flicks to his. The corners of his mouth rise to a dirty grin, but the intensity behind those dark brown eyes screams he’s every bit serious. My breath catches in my throat, rendering me speechless. I’m not much of a flirt. Never mastered the skill. So, I don’t know whether he’s serious or just kidding. Luckily, he speaks before I make a bigger fool of myself.
“I don’t have any decorations, so I need a tree that will look good on its own.”
“You sound like me. I don’t have any either.”
“You don’t?”
“No, just a few strands of Christmas lights. I’m not a huge fan of Christmas anymore, since the fire destroyed everything, including the tree ornaments. I never had the heart to replace them.”
“Fire?”
“Yeah, it happened shortly after my sister died. Right around Christmas.” Tears spring to my eyes, and I blink them away. No matter how much time passes, losing family members is the hardest thing I’ve endured. But the fire took so much more and proved pain comes in many forms, including being humiliated by the campus super jock. That recalled memory is the dose of reality I need to remind myself why I hate the man beside me.
“I had no idea you and Drake lost a sister. I’m sorry.”
“She died of cancer. When it looked like you were on track to win back-to-back World Series titles, I thought of the calendar shoot.” Nothing erases the hurt of losing her, but picturing AJ in those ridiculous tights does brighten me up.
“That’s nice you did that.”
We continue walking down the aisle, and we both grow quiet. AJ points to a tall, but scrawny, tree.
“How about this one?”
“Hmm, I don’t think you can handle that one. You need one with a little more meat.”
“You keep talking dirty to me, and I may have to show you more meat.”
I shake my head. “Get serious.”
“I am.”
My stupid heart doesn’t know what to do. It skips a beat and then beats wildly. It’s a good thing my brain still works. I ignore his jibe and step toward another tree. One that isn’t too tall or too wide. The branches are full and evenly spaced. A perfect one.
“This one,” I say. “It fits you.”
He comes up behind me, and although he’s not touching me, I feel him everywhere: my skin, my hair, my core. I close my eyes for a moment and mentally curse as the emotions work through my system. It’s official. My body has betrayed me. If it weren’t for my brain working overtime, I’d lean back just a fraction and melt into his embrace. I haven’t forgotten how good it felt to have those beefy arms hold me as my world fell apart. Little did I know that was just the beginning of many long painful nights.
“That will work.” His voice comes out gravelly beside my ear, and I wrap my arms around myself to keep from touching him.
I nod and eye the tree once more. “Good, we need to get going.”
And I need to get away from you.
After AJ pays and places his finding in the bed of his truck, he follows me to my apartment. Alone in my car, I can breathe once again, and my senses slowly come back to me. AJ’s a player. A man who already hurt me. And now he’s following me to my apartment? I’m not sure how this happened, but allowing him into my personal space is a bad idea.
Chapter Twelve
AJ
Current Day
Mia is whacked. The question of her sanity flits through my mind the moment I cut the twine and this sorry excuse of a tree springs to life. I tilt my head, but the angle doesn’t help make the tree look any better. It’s hopeless.
“Of all the trees to choose from, this is what you picked?”
“What’s wrong with it?” The sides of her mouth twitch. It’s so obvious what’s wrong.
“It’s a Charlie Brown knockoff tree.”
“Come on.” She laughs—a genuine sound I don’t deserve—and gives me a slight shove. “It’s not that bad.”
“Okay, okay, the needles aren’t falling off yet, but look at the pitiful thing. It leans too far to the right.” I examine the trunk base and shake my head. “There’s no way to fix it.”
“It’s fine, really.” She eyes the eyesore with admiration. “This is how our trees looked every year.”
“Mutilated?”
“Noooo”—she purses her lips—“slight imperfections.”
My curiosity piques. “Why?”
“Back in seventh grade during Christmas break, I went to my friend Jillian’s house. Her house was slightly bigger, a tad bit nicer, and she never let me forget it. But her bragging never bothered me. I didn’t care.” Her gaze flicks to mine. “Too much.”
I smile and picture a teenage Mia. I bet she was cute.
“I followed her into their living room and bam! There it was. The biggest, fullest tree I’ve ever seen. Blew our scraggly trees away. When I went home, I complained about the eyesore standing in our living room. Mom sat there and listened. When I finished my rant, she just shook her head. It’s the first time I ever felt like she was disappointed in me.”
“I’m familiar with that feeling.” More than you know.
“She told me everyone always goes for the perfect ones, but then their trees all look the same. Ours is unique because of the flaws. And the flaws are what makes the spirit.”
A beat of silence passes before I speak. “Did your mom do drugs?”
Her laugh comes out naturally. Relaxed. It’s the sweetest sound in the world. Guilt from my past actions lodges in my throat. I hate that I hurt this girl, but knowing I had no other choice back then hurts worse
“She was a free spirit.” She shrugs and then adds, “And maybe a little nutty.”
“She sounds great, actually.”
“She was.” Sadness coats her eyes, and I don’t miss the past tense usage. “Despite our less than stellar tree, we had kick-ass ornaments. They were the handblown glass type, which are expensive. Another reason I haven’t replaced them yet. But I will someday.”
The dreamy look of determination reduces me to silence. She sported that same look back in college when she talked about opening an art studio. Her passion and drive are what made me want her back then, but seeing her now? Yeah, grown-up Mia is sexier than freshman Mia. Especially in those boots.
“Okay, you ready?” She goes over and grabs hold of the light cord.
“Yeah, do the honors.” My feet carry me over to the light switch, and I flip us into darkness. After she plugs in the cord, I move back beside her. We stare at the naked Christmas tree illuminating the corner of her apartment.
The multi colors highlight her face as she stares in awe. It’s a beautiful sight in more ways than one.
“Thanks for helping me.”
“My pleasure,” I grunt, not wanting to admit what she’s doing to me. Our gazes connect, and mine drops to her mouth and lingers a moment before returning. “Look, Mia, I’m sorry for standing you up back in college. That was a shitty thing to do.”
Her face slackens, and I immediately regret saying anything. But I have to apologize. It’s only right.
“It was a long time ago.”
“Still, shitty.”
She’s trying to be strong, but I can tell the past still upsets her. Why wouldn’t it? I never called her afterward. In fact, I blocked her damn number. We had the most epic date of all dates, and then I treated her like shit. It was the hardest thing I had to do. But the circumstances surrounding the last half of our date made it clear what I had to do. I had to protect her from me. No matter how m
uch I justify my actions, the regret doesn’t stay away. Instead, it burrows deep into my soul, never letting me forget.
A few awkward moments tick by, and I do what I do best—tease her. “You have to help me with my tree now.”
“That wasn’t part of the deal.”
“Wasn’t it? I’m pretty sure I said you have to come back to my apartment to help me.”
“I’m sure I would’ve remembered that.”
“Your memory must be slipping, Cupcake, because you agreed. Besides, I need help with the stand, and I did save your ass.”
“Oh, good grief. I…” She pauses as a sly smile crosses her face. I’m not sure if this is good or bad, but if she agrees to come back to my apartment, I’m game. I’m not ready for the night to end. Who knows when I’ll get another chance to be with her? “On second thought, I will help. But if I’m coming with you, I need to grab something first.”
She exits to her bedroom, and I force myself to not follow her. Instead, I take in her apartment. The living room flows into the kitchen in an open-floor plan. Other than a door leading to what I presume is a bathroom, the only other room is her bedroom. The apartment may not be large, but she keeps it tidy.
I search the beige walls for pieces of her artwork. Any piece of the girl that connects me to her past. The corners of my mouth tip upward at the single painting. The familiarity of the beach warms my insides. I did love the West Coast.
“I miss the area.” Mia’s voice is soft as she stands beside me.
I remain fixated on the painting as I respond. “Me too. You’re so talented. Do you have any recent paintings?”
“No. Most of my supplies burned in the fire. I haven’t gotten around to replacing everything yet.” She averts her gaze when I turn to look at her. I want to ask if our painting got destroyed, but I don’t dare. I’m already pushing it by having her come home with me.
“Well, I’m ready.” She rifles around her purse for her keys. “I’ll follow you this time.”
“You sure? I could bring you back home.” What the hell am I saying? The last thing I need is to confine myself with her. Then why am I asking her back to my place in the first place?
Bottom Of The Ninth: Bad Boys Redemption: Book Three Page 7
