His Last-Chance Christmas Family

by Michelle Major

  She knocked lightly and heard his answered greeting like she were listening from under a wave, his voice muffled from the pounding between her ears.

  The office had an oversize cherry desk situated in front of the window and bookshelves lined one wall. On the wall to the other side of the door was the sofa bed. It looked to be at least full-size and not as uncomfortable as she’d imagined.

  Nothing prepared her for the sight of a shirtless Nick propped against several fluffy pillows, a laptop open in front of him with a screen displaying...

  “Is that the Lego website?” She stepped into the small room, still reeling from half-naked Nick but also confused and touched at what his browsing selection might mean.

  “Tyler said the set he’d been working on in the family room melted.” He shrugged, one big shoulder lifting, then lowering. Her attention focused on his body once again.

  She’d seen Nick shirtless plenty of times when they were younger. The two of them would swim at the lake or run through the sprinklers in his family’s backyard. And then in high school when it seemed like the entire football team took pains to parade around shirtless after practice.

  But being with him in this cozy room reminded her how much had changed. Nick was a man in his prime and she was a late-twenties single mom of soon-to-be two kids with stretch marks on her breasts and hips.

  If the rest of their differences didn’t make clear why she was not a good match for Nick, the physical comparison—and there was no comparison—certainly would. Still, she wanted to beg him like some kind of obsessed fan girl to always walk around with no shirt while she was in the house.

  “You don’t have to do that,” she said. “I have a plan for Christmas.”

  “I want to help,” he answered simply. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”

  She nodded. “On my way to the kitchen for a glass of milk.”

  He flipped back the covers to reveal a pair of loose gym shorts. “I can get it for you,” he said, reaching for a T-shirt on the floor next to the bed.

  “Don’t.”

  The word came out sharper than she’d expected, and Nick paused and glanced at up her. His brows furrowed like her outburst didn’t make sense, but his eyes darkened as if he could read her mind. “Don’t go to the kitchen?”

  “Don’t put on the shirt.”

  She stepped closer. Her body hummed with awareness. She should back away, walk out of the office and shut the door behind her. What was she doing in here?

  There were so many reasons this was a mistake, but at the moment Brynn didn’t care about any of them. The sensations rolling through her were both unfamiliar and not. Worry and anxiety were constant companions, but they took a back seat to her visceral desire.

  Would it be so bad to give in to it? Even for one night.

  It had been so long since she’d done something for herself. Oh, her friends had talked to her about “self-care” after Daniel’s death. She’d read plenty of articles that said a mom had to be good to herself in order to take care of her kids.

  No at-home spa treatement or binge-worthy series in the world would compare to touching Nick.

  He didn’t speak as she took his hand and then sat down next to him, the thin mattress depressing under their combined weight. His chest rose and fell in ragged breaths and his gaze was intense on her, filled with so much need it was difficult to believe this was the same man who’d kept his distance from her this past decade.

  With trembling fingers, she reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder. She traced a line along his collarbone, need pooling low in her belly at the heat and softness of his skin.

  There was a scar just below his biceps, a tiny mark she wasn’t familiar with, which meant it had happened when he was an adult. She knew the dot of graphite from where Tommy Lencner had poked Nick with a pencil during a fifth-grade sword fight. One that had landed both of them with detention.

  “What is it?” she whispered, fascinated by the raised skin.

  “Knife wound,” he said, his voice gruff.

  She sucked in a breath.

  “Not a big deal. It was my first year on the force and I was careless during a meth-lab bust. Surface wound. That’s all, Brynn.”

  “Why didn’t I know about this?”

  What else didn’t she know?

  “Not many people did.” He covered her hand with his. “I made a rookie mistake, so the fewer people who knew the better, as far as I was concerned.”

  “You could have been killed.” She raised her gaze to his. “Any day you could be killed.”

  “That’s not going to happen.” He flashed a cocky smile. “I’m smarter now.”

  “Your job is dangerous.” She flattened her palm on his chest. His heart raced. “You risk your life to serve the town.”

  He stiffened, as if a cold burst of air chased across the space between them. “Don’t make me into something I’m not.”

  “What kind of something?”

  He laughed without humor. “A hero.”

  “I don’t need a hero.” She licked her lips, swayed closer to him.

  “What do you need, Brynn?”

  Color stained his cheeks and a muscle ticked in his jaw, like it was taking every inch of strength he had to control his reaction to her.

  Suddenly, Brynn was filled with the need to lose control and take Nick Dunlap along with her.

  Without letting rational thought have a vote in the decision, she pressed her mouth to his.

  Chapter Eleven

  It only took a moment for the kiss to turn from exploring to demanding. Nick pulled her closer, almost into his lap, and her senses reeled as he moved his hands up and under her pajama top.

  His rough palms on her heated skin were heaven. She opened for him as their kiss deepened.

  He lowered himself back against the sheets, taking her with him. She straddled him as he continued to kiss her and wondered if she could ever get enough of this. He inched the baggy shirt up and over her head with one hand while the other unclasped her bra hook. Should she be alarmed at his dexterity? Even she couldn’t unhook a bra that easily.

  Brynn had the fleeting thought she should have packed the lacy lingerie her friends had encouraged her to buy. Then they were skin to skin, and it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except this man and this moment.

  “How are you this soft?” he whispered against her mouth, as his hands cupped the weight of her breasts. “So damn beautiful.”

  A denial bubbled into her mouth, but she swallowed it back. She might not have much experience with men, but she knew better than to reject a compliment, especially when it came from a man looking at her as if she were Christmas morning, the Fourth of July and his favorite team winning the Super Bowl all wrapped into one.

  He lifted his head and covered one taut nipple with his mouth. Brynn moaned and braced her hands on either side of his broad shoulders. She was once again in jeopardy of spontaneously combusting from the desire swirling through her.

  Nick seemed in no hurry to move things along. He took his sweet time giving attention to her sensitive breasts, and Brynn ground her hips into his.

  She could feel how much he wanted her, and that knowledge inflamed her need. His hands settled on her hips, and his thumbs traced the edge of her pajama shorts. Goose bumps erupted along her skin as he continued to move higher on her upper thigh.

  Just when she thought she couldn’t hold herself upright from the pleasure, he flipped her onto her back, staring down at her like she was the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

  But something else flashed in his gaze. A hint of trepidation, and she was terrified he’d stop touching her. Brynn wasn’t sure if she’d make it through the night if he stopped now.

  “I want you,” she told him, lifting a palm to cup his rigid jaw. “I want this.”

&nbs
p; “Brynn.” Her name on his lips sounded like a prayer. A plea.

  “Please, Nick.” She didn’t care if she had to beg. There was nothing else that could fill the void inside her. Not at the moment. “I need—” she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him down toward her “—you,” she finished, then traced the tip of her tongue along the seam of his lips.

  “Then I’m yours.”

  He slipped his hand into the waistband of her pajama shorts and panties, finding the spot that craved his touch. Her hips arched off the bed when he skimmed a finger along her center and bright spots of color flashed behind her closed eyes.

  How was it possible he could make her feel so much with a simple touch?

  “Open your eyes,” he told her before sucking her earlobe into his mouth. He nuzzled her neck, then raised his head to gaze down at her as his fingers continued to work their magic. “I want to see you.”

  The look in his eyes was enough to push her over the edge. She cried out, spiraling through the air like she was riding on a thousand points of light.

  Nick bent his head again, whispering sweet things into her ear and placing gentle kisses along the column of her throat.

  She waited for what came next, the feel of his body over hers, and swallowed back her shock when he moved to one side with a final kiss.

  “We’re not...” She sat up at the same time he did. “You didn’t...”

  He handed her top to her and shrugged into his shirt without making eye contact. “It’s late,” he said, his voice at once gruff and tender. “And you’ve had a traumatic day. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

  “What if you’re not?” she said, pulling her shirt on over her head even as her body continued to tingle in the afterglow of her release. “What if I want—”

  “I’m trying to be a friend,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

  A terrifying thought crawled into her still-fuzzy brain. “Oh, no.” She shook her head. “Was that a pity...interlude?” Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment.

  “No.” Nick muttered a curse and then grabbed her hands, lifting them to his mouth. He grazed a kiss across her knuckles. “Of course not. Brynn, you have to know I want you. That watching you come apart in my arms was the best thing that’s happened to me in forever. It was a dream come true.”

  She frowned. “Then why stop? I’m a big girl, Nick. I don’t need you to worry about taking advantage of me. I’m capable of making my own decisions, and I know the difference between sex and love. Trust me. I know all about that.”

  “I’m not trying to make you mad.” He squeezed her hands, then released her, standing to pace to the bookshelf. “I can’t seem to do anything right where you’re concerned.”

  Brynn couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips. “You definitely did some things right.”

  He glanced at her, and some of the tension in his shoulders eased. “I want you, Brynn,” he repeated. “I can barely control myself around you. That can’t come as a surprise. But you had one hell of day. If we’re going to be together, it will be the right time.”

  “Most of my life is based on timing that’s been horribly wrong,” she said quietly, straightening from the bed. “Why should this be any different?”

  “Because you deserve better,” he said tightly.

  She wasn’t sure whether she felt grateful or offended that he assumed he knew what she wanted or deserved. But she couldn’t deny her body was way more relaxed than it had been when she’d knocked on his office door.

  She should take that as a win at least.

  “Good night, Nick,” she said, knowing there was no point in arguing any more tonight.

  “Sweet dreams,” he told her, and she let herself out of his office.

  * * *

  By the end of the week, Nick felt like he might actually be going crazy with frustration. After her late-night trip to his office, Brynn hadn’t spoken to him other than to discuss Remi’s schedule or make meaningless small talk over dinner with Tyler.

  He hated the distance that had emerged between them, when holding her in his arms had been the best feeling he’d had in ages. But he didn’t regret not going further that night, despite how much his body continued to protest. As much as he wanted Brynn in his bed, his priority was being a good friend to her. To his mind, a decent guy wouldn’t be selfish enough to be intimate with a woman who was traumatized by having half her house go up in flames.

  He knew she’d met with Josh and his crew. According to the bits she’d told him, they were going to begin the project early next week and Josh hoped to have her back home by Christmas Eve. Nick found it hard to believe they could accomplish so much so quickly, and he’d been looking forward to waking up to watch Tyler open his presents on Christmas morning.

  But it was important to Brynn that Tyler spend the night before Christmas in his own bed and Nick would be a supportive friend, even if it killed him.

  He walked into Trophy Room at five o’clock on Friday, forcing smiles for the locals who greeted him by name. Jordan Schaeffer, the bar’s former-NFL-playing owner, waved from behind the bar, which was currently lined with customers. Nick knew it would only get more crowded as the night wore on, but he’d be long gone.

  In fact, he didn’t even want to be there at the moment, but Brynn was hosting some sort of annual cookie-baking party at his house. Kaitlin, Mara, Evie and Anna, along with Mara’s aunt, his mom and two of her book-club friends were currently gathered in his kitchen.

  Kaitlin and Mara had both offered to have the gathering at their houses, but he’d insisted Brynn invite everyone to his place. She’d put on such a brave face about the damage and the challenge of reconstruction, but the change in plans for her annual event had seemed to affect her like a physical blow.

  He would not have her losing it over a few dozen cookies.

  He headed for the table at the back, where Finn, Parker and Josh were waiting.

  “I thought you’d be home rolling out fondant,” Josh said with a laugh, moving over to make room for Nick.

  The rest of them stared at the single dad, and Nick was gratified to see his confusion was mirrored on his friends’ faces. “What the hell is fondant?” Finn asked after a moment.

  “Icing,” Josh said, frowning. “You use it to decorate cakes and cookies.”

  Parker looked even more befuddled at his brother’s familiarity with the details of pastry decorating. “Why do you know that?”

  “Give me a break,” Josh muttered. “Anna likes baking shows, and I watch with her. It’s not like the man-card police are going to hunt me down for discussing the virtues of fondant or buttercream.”

  “There’s more than one type of icing?” Nick grabbed a wing from the basket in the center of the table. “I thought it was all frosting.”

  They all turned as the waitress approached the table.

  “The usual?” she asked, placing a cardboard coaster down in front of Nick.

  “Please,” he answered. “Jocelyn, have you heard of fondant?”

  “It’s the icing that tastes like crap, right?” She wrinkled her nose. “I like the spreadable stuff better.”

  Josh nodded. “Buttercream.”

  “Sure,” Jocelyn agreed, then walked away.

  “Do you wear a ruffled apron?” Parker asked his younger brother with a laugh.

  Without hesitation, Josh flipped a one-fingered salute. “Mara texted me the pic of you with a bubble mask when you did the spa night with Evie. Don’t make me post it on the town Instagram account.”

  “I don’t know anything about a bubble mask.” Finn shook his head. “But does the fact that we’re having a conversation that involves televised baking shows and spa nights mean we’re officially lame?”

  “I’m not lame,” Nick protested, then thanked Jocelyn when she brought his beer to
the table.

  “You have dried spit-up on your shoulder,” Josh told him.

  “Fine.” Nick took a long drink of beer to avoid checking his sweater. “I guess I’m lame along with the rest of you all.”

  “How’s it going with your full house?” Finn asked, as he grabbed a wing and dipped it in blue cheese dressing. In addition to the basket of wings, they had a bowl of smoked cheese dip and the best jalapeño poppers Nick had ever tasted. Trophy Room was a throwback as far as decor, with its paneled walls and neon beer signs, but Jordan had hired a classically trained chef to update the bar’s menu after he took over. She focused on classic bar food with a twist, so the wings were basted in a sesame soy glaze and a simple cheese dip had layers of flavors that even a big-city food snob would appreciate.

  The bar had earned a reputation for serving the best selection of regional brews outside of Seattle and offering the most scrumptious menu items to go with them.

  Nick normally wouldn’t walk into the place on weekends, when tourists and visitors swarmed the valley. Despite the crowds, Jordan still managed to attract plenty of locals, so Nick always knew at least half the patrons by name.

  “It’s fine,” he said, keeping his tone casual, almost flippant. “I like having the help with Remi at night. Makes me feel less like I’m going to make some kind of colossal mistake on my own.”

  “I think he was asking about Brynn.” Parker raised a brow. “How’s it going being so close to her again?”

  “Fine,” Nick repeated.

  “That’s the third time you’ve said fine since you sat down,” Josh pointed out, none too helpfully. “You’re not very convincing.”

  “What do you expect?”

  The three men stared at him so long that he felt a bead of sweat drip down between his shoulder blades.

  “I’m not going to have a relationship with her.”