Christmas Hearts: In the Company of Snipers

by Irish Winters

  Alex had officially sworn off celebrating Christmas these last five years, and she didn’t blame him. It was a hard day for her, too. She missed her baby boys the same as he missed his wife and daughter. Her heart hurt for him as much as for herself on special days like this, but—they still had each other, and that was what mattered now.

  She was certain. They could get through anything. Together.

  Alex stared at the knick-knacks on display in one of the many touristy shops along King Street in Alexandra, Virginia. He’d opted to walk to work, just to clear his head. It wasn’t far from his front steps to his office, and he’d come up with a couple of symbolic ideas for Kelsey’s gift as he’d walked. A snow globe of the capital because he’d never seen it with as much wonder until he’d seen it through her eyes. A mountaineer’s piton because she’d given him the strength to hold on, at a time in his life when he’d lost hope. Or a mirror because the man he was today was simply a reflection of her sweet spirit.

  One by one, he’d discarded them all. They were stupid and cheap. She deserved more. But the old-fashioned, blown-glass Christmas ornaments dangling off the fake pine bough in the display window of this pricey boutique? They’d caught his attention. They were small, but revolved and glittered with the slightest shift in the air. Mesmerizing. That was what they were. Like Kelsey.

  She’d like the red one with the cut crystal bulb and the long clear teardrop tail. A gold cord and ribbon added seasonal charm. The green one, though... that one was nice, its design more festive, the bulb fatter, and the ribbon bigger. Kelsey deserved bigger and better.

  Hmmm. I could get two.

  But the crystal ornament with the gold trim? That one was worth the small fortune the shop was asking. Kelsey would love it. It didn’t need color to make it look precious. The simplicity of its design called to him. Like Kelsey.

  Maybe I should buy all three…

  An old Irish ballad drifted up the hill from a pub near the Potomac River. “Oh Danny Boy.” Damn. Just what he needed when he already felt as if he was running out of time, a reminder of every man lost, and a real mood killer if ever there was one.

  Or I could get my dumbass back to work and stop wasting time.

  Alex stomped away from the window, aggravated. He should’ve been halfway into D.C. for a meeting with the FBI director by then, not gawking at some storefront merchandise like a tourist. Christmas was coming, damn it.

  Chapter Five

  “What are you doing?” Kelsey very nearly shrieked out her open car window when she returned home from the grocery store to find Alex loading three cradles into the bed of his truck. It was noon. Why was he home early again?

  His brows cinched together, his eyes filled with male amusement. “I’m running over to Saint Nicholas to drop these off. You got a problem with that?”

  “But… but last year we delivered them on Christmas Eve.” Why did he have to be so, so—prompt—all the time? So proactive? Such a workaholic?

  He shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I figured you wouldn’t mind. One less thing to do tomorrow. We’re running out of time, you know.”

  “They weren’t ready, that’s all,” she said lamely, her throat as dry as the sandpaper she’d skinned her knuckles on making sure his gift was just right.

  “Yes, they were. I double-checked. Trust me. They’re cleaned, dusted and painted.”

  Double-checked? Okay, that didn’t help. It made everything worse was what it did. She could barely summon enough saliva to swallow. Had he found the gift she’d stashed inside one of the cradles? Was he baiting her, hoping she’d unravel and spill the beans? She couldn’t think with those sharp, sniper blue eyes trained on her. Darn him. He could usually read her like a book. Was he?

  “I, umm…” She gulped, needing to be sly, to get downstairs to those last cradles. “I’ll be right back.”

  “No, you don’t,” he teased. “You’re just going in for another shopping list, I know you. Don’t we have enough Christmas cheer around this place yet? God, Kelsey. There’s only the two of us. Give it a rest.”

  “No, Alex. I’m not going shopping. I don’t have a list. I’m… I’m just going to help carry the cradles. I’ll be right back.” Before he could argue, away to the house she flew like a flash. Through the front door. Into the kitchen. Down the basement steps, her heart pounding as loud as her feet on the wooden stair boards, and…

  ‘On Comet! On Cupid!’ rang through her flustered mind as more rapid than eagles, she dashed to the farthest corner of the workbench, her mouth dry and her heart in her throat. Whew! He’d only moved the first row of twelve cradles.

  Oh, my gosh! That man! He was enough to drive her crazy. Kelsey drew in a deep breath of thank heavens to settle her nerves. His gift was safe. But not for long. The front door had just closed. Alex was on his way back.

  Quickly, her heart pounding up high in her throat, she hid the precious bundle behind several cans on his tidy paint shelf, and just in time. That enterprising, task-driven, over zealous man’s boots were clumping down the basement steps. Darn him!

  She hid her trembling fingers behind her back.

  “I put your groceries on the counter. You are going to the orphanage with me, aren’t you?”

  “Absolutely,” she announced cheerily, her heart still hammering in her veins. “We can stop at the church on our way back.”

  He frowned even as he tugged her into his arms. She went easily. Touch worked wonders on this gentle giant. Sliding her palms up his biceps and over his muscular chest to his shoulders never ceased to amaze her. The word ruggedized always came to mind. It was how cell phones and computers were made to withstand the harsh reality of military life and war. It fit Alex to a T, from the rock-solid, ropey muscles coiled over his shoulders and arms, to the six-pack belly under his shirt, to the scars on his chin and hands. He’d survived more than his fair share of deployments, and in the buff—the man was eye candy with teasing blue eyes. And he was hers to nibble on whenever she wanted.

  Like now.

  She’d meant to distract him, but it was working the other way around. Warmth blossomed up from her gut. They’d never done it in his workshop. Yet…

  “You know how I feel about that,” he grumbled.

  “About sex in the basement?” She had to ask. Obviously her mind was not broadcasting on the same channel as his.

  Or maybe it was.

  A definite naughty light flickered to life in those tired blues. His whole face crinkled into a soft, salacious smirk as his fingers stretched down to clutch her butt. “No, I meant about you stopping at Saint Nicholas. You’re dropping off your tithing envelope, aren’t you? No church deserves ten percent of your hard earned money, Kelsey. It’s yours. Keep it. You earned it, not them.”

  It was impossibly difficult to think with all that tantalizing, raw masculinity engulfing her. Filling her nose with the manly scent of gunpowder and aftershave. “But you know how I feel about it too, Alex. It’s my ten percent to give,” she explained patiently, her tone hoarse with need.

  A growl rumbled deep inside his chest. She didn’t want to argue. She had no defense, not against this tender warrior. When he asked, she always gave, and she would now. Her parish might get ten percent of her paycheck, but Alex always got one hundred percent of her heart. She loved him, and the way he was looking at her right then and there, he might get more if he was a really good boy.

  Her pulse quickened. Her breath caught. Only Alex was no boy. Every bone in her body melted into him. Her man was all male.

  Alex barely stooped when he lifted her off her feet, his palms square on her backside, shaping her to fit his body, spreading her legs to wrap around his hips. “What am I going to do with you?” he asked, a sexy tease to his heated tone.

  Kelsey arched her head back, relishing the vibration of his deep throaty growl, and what it did to her passion. Pure black velvet, it slid over her like hot fudge on a sundae. She could listen to him forever. Her breasts ached for hi
s breath, his tongue, his touch. A ribbon of anticipation unfurled up her spine like a flame, licking every last vertebrae and enticing her to combust until her most feminine muscles clenched with need for him.

  From the moment she’d met Alex, this man had cast a delicious magic spell on her. He’d set her blood on fire. He’d made her fly then and he could do it again. Anywhere. Anytime.

  Even now. She bowed her forehead to his chin, her fingers skimming his neck and chest, searching for the pesky buttons that stood in her way. “I don’t know what you’re going to do with me, but I’m going to like finding out,” she purred suggestively, her lips at the hollow of his throat.

  In two long strides, he carried her to the worktable where once dozens of doll cradles had been sanded, glued, painted, and perfected. The last of the sawdust had been vacuumed, but Alex tugged a canvas cover from somewhere. Honestly, the man was prepared no matter what, and she was secretly delighted to hang on tightly to his rock-hard biceps and go with the raw power he wielded so easily.

  He grunted as he unfurled the cloth over the tabletop before he laid her down. Her clothes didn’t last long after that. There was something sensually exhilarating about being stripped naked while your fully clothed man works your body over like a finely tuned instrument until you’re drenched, writhing and wild at his fingertips. He suckled at her aching breasts, tugging the fire up from her belly to dance in her bloodstream. Demanding she respond, and she did. She arched and…

  Oh God. He’d made her fly again.

  “You’re crying,” he murmured gently, his nose in her neck and his lips planting soft little explosions of need over her quivering shoulder while she fell back to earth. It was always like this between them. One was as starved for the other’s soul and body as the other, and just as crazy. It didn’t matter what time of day. Making love was their mainstay, their need and their right. It was their power, their way back home again. Their security blanket to snuggle beneath when they needed to hide from the world. Their crazy brand of intimacy was their anchor.

  “I always cry when I’m happy,” she mewed breathlessly, panting with aftershocks rippling through her. “You know that.”

  “I know I love you, Kelsey,” he growled, kicking out of his boots and shedding his clothes. “Only you.”

  She lifted to her elbows to watch his body emerge from T-shirt and jeans. Boxers. There were times she ached for him so fiercely. It frightened her that she could love a man as much as she loved Alex.

  “What are you grinning about?” he asked, his sexy baritone extra deep, rumbling with need.

  “I just like to watch.” And she did. From the dark hair dusting his pecs to the centerline of his athletically sculpted body to his muscular thighs, she licked her lips. Planning. Hungry. Wanting to hear him groan with pleasure when she took her turn.

  Until he grabbed her ankles and tugged her butt to the edge of the table. Over the edge. One second she was on her back with the firestorm beating in her veins. The next she was on her stomach, and Alex was all the way—home.

  In one sure thrust, he took her hard and he took her fast, setting a rhythm for her to match. She had no sheets or blankets to hang onto, but she gave him as good as she got, her hands splayed for leverage to the flat table, clenching him with those intimately female muscles made expressly for her man. Stroking him. Urging him up with her to where lovers flew.

  “Kelsey.” He growled out her name—just her name—a perfect prayer unleashed at the moment of their coming together as man and woman, as lovers. With a cry and a groan, a push and a shove, the exquisite fire of love for him washed over her. She closed her eyes and soared, thrilled at this uniquely tender Christmas moment. This gift that was Alex.

  He planted warm, moist kisses and nibbles over her shoulder blades and down her spine, still adoring her body with his lips and his tongue and teeth. There wasn’t a day he didn’t make her feel as if she was the most beautiful woman in his world.

  “I’ve made a lot of things on this old table,” he chuckled, his lips smoldering up the nape of her neck, his nose in her hair, making her shiver, “and now I’ve made you.”

  She had to smile at that hidden gift in the cradle over on the counter. She’d made a few things on this table, too, but this was the best. Kelsey couldn’t resist. Saint Nicholas could wait. She had to know. “Want to do it again?”

  Chapter Six

  Christmas Eve came with more than a dusting of snow. Damn it. Alex didn’t have a gift for his wife-to-be, and he still didn’t have a clue what she’d like. Aggravated, he’d shoveled his driveway twice before noon, then tackled his neighbors’ driveways on both sides of his place, then the three across the street when he should’ve been shopping. But God, the thought of last minute shopping with the bargain crowd stopped him cold. There were days he hated people. Most days.

  A bunch of school kids traipsed through the neighborhood selling homemade tissue paper wreaths to earn a few bucks. Of course Kelsey bought two, one for the front door, another for the back door that no one would ever see. But it made her happy, so Alex didn’t argue. She’d been smiling in that coy way when she had a secret. The woman should never go into covert ops. She just couldn’t keep a straight face.

  It hit him about three in the afternoon. The snow had stopped falling by then. “I’ll be in the basement,” he called to his dearest.

  “I’m running over to the church,” she called back to him.

  And you know what? He didn’t care about what she did with her tithing. He had work to do.

  The cookies were frosted. The walnut fudge had been sliced and waited chilling in the fridge along with the turkey and a bowl of bread stuffing, complete with celery, onions, and cranberries.

  Kelsey drew the picture window drapes wide open and settled down on the couch to watch the snow falling, her fingertips fluttering over the pounding of her sad heart. The quaint little neighborhood Alex had settled into with Sara and Abby suited her. It wasn’t fancy. It wasn’t pretentious. If anything it was plain. It was simple. Like me.

  But best of all, it was home. She knew most of her neighbors, and she loved them and their children. But the thoughts of all those kids excited for Santa had finally sunk in. The neighbors’ happy children reminded her of two others, and her heart pinched for the little boy bodies she’d never hold again.

  A hard knot filled her throat making it difficult to swallow. Alex had been busy in the basement all afternoon, and it was okay. Her gift was wrapped and hidden under the pillow at her side. She needed this time alone.

  To think.

  To remember.

  To again come to grips with all she’d lost.

  She swallowed hard, fighting tears. What she wouldn’t give to go back in time and do things differently. She’d be a better mother. She’d make sounder choices. She would’ve given up on Tommy and Jackie’s father sooner, and she would’ve run for the lives of her sons. All her past sins cuddled like wicked cold wraiths on her shoulders, taunting her with her failures. Remembering hurt.

  Christmas would never be the same, and even with her teaching career, her new life with Alex, and the busyness of the season, remorse always caught up with her. Placing Baby Jesus in the manager had never hurt as bad as it did tonight. God, she missed her babies. He’d given them to her and she’d let them down. Kelsey gulped a sob.

  “I know you,” Alex murmured at her side, his fingers suddenly warm and caressing her shoulder blades, massaging comfort into her. Comfort she didn’t deserve.

  Kelsey turned away, wiping her cheek into her shirt, not ready or able to look up at him. She couldn’t see the matching sorrow that would never go away, the shadow in his eyes they’d both found ways to live with. She nodded silently, wishing he’d go away—just for another minute. Just until she could get her mask back in place. He didn’t deserve an emotional woman on his hands. Not tonight. This was a tough season for him, too.

  Alex settled beside her on the couch and circled her inside the
steel bands of his arms. He always knew. He was that heat-seeking missile aimed straight at her heart. A lifeline. A savior. He knew when to reach out because he’d lived with the same kind of loss.

  And it was killing her.

  “I miss her most tonight,” he said, his voice soft and vulnerable. “She loved Christmas.”

  “Ah huh,” Kelsey replied, a knot in her throat and needing to change the subject before she fell apart. He missed Sara and Abby like she missed her boys—with all of his broken heart. It never healed. The pain never really went away. It just receded sometimes, like the ebb of a relentless tide. He’d told her once that it wasn’t the load that wore her down, it was the way she carried it. Still…

  The wretched task of carrying her failure as a mother was overwhelmingly hard.

  She snuggled deeper into him, one shoulder tucked under his arm and her back to him while the snow kept falling, craving the sanctuary of his all male body. “Murphy and Roy came by while you were downstairs,” she offered softly. “They didn’t come in, just dropped off a six-pack of Delirium Noel. Murphy said you have to share it with me this year.”

  Alex nuzzled his nose into the crook of her neck. “I share everything with you,” he whispered. “My heart. My soul. Every last breath I take.”

  That was the truth. She might be the worst sinner on earth, but God and Alex still loved her, even when she couldn’t love herself. She hugged his massive arms over her breasts, convinced the Lord had sent Alex when she’d needed him most. He and God might not be on talking terms, but God knew Alex, and like it or not, Alex did the Lord’s work. A man didn’t have to pray in church to be a saint in God’s armor.

  “Zack usually comes by on Christmas Eve,” he said.

  “That fruitcake he made last year was good. I never would’ve guessed he had chef potential.” Safe topics helped diffuse the grief.

  Alex rested his chin on her shoulder, his warm breath skating over her cheek. “That was his mom’s recipe. You did know he poured a fifth of Irish whiskey on that fruitcake before he lit it on fire and damned near burned our house down, didn’t you?”