Holiday Heat: The Men of Starlight Bend

by Ashley Jennifer

Eyes narrowed now, Henry looked away. “Maybe they should. Maybe they shouldn’t.”

  “But what’s the alternative?” she said. “I mean, estrangement? Anger? For how long? Just because someone followed their dream?”

  “Dreams have been known to hurt people,” the old man said grimly.

  “Only if someone uses them as a weapon,” she retorted sharply.

  He looked stunned. In truth, she’d shocked herself. She wasn’t usually a meddler, but in Henry’s bluster, she saw pain. Real pain. She’d seen it in Ty’s eyes, too.

  “I’m sorry,” she said swiftly, backing away from the genuine human connection that had sprung up beneath the evergreen Wish Tree and, true to form, turned messy. “I don’t know what I’m saying. It’s none of my business.”

  “No, it’s not. But I get the feeling that doesn’t stop you much.”

  “I think it’s the air here,” she muttered. “It’s messed with my filter.”

  Henry stared at her for a minute and then smiled. “It’s okay. A good woman needs a little unfiltered sass.”

  Before she could think of a response, the Santa she’d seen earlier appeared beside them and raised a hand, ho-ho-ho-ing at them. Close up, she was amazed at the detail in his costume. The white hair and beard looked real and the blue eyes sparkled merrily. The suit had a soft, worn look to it—not felt, but velvet.

  He shook a small red bag, then held it out to her. “Go on,” he said when she hesitated. “Pick one.”

  Smiling, Kari reached in and pulled out a small white card. One side was blank, but the other had, Your wish has been granted, printed with a careful hand in glittery green ink.

  Kari looked up. “I didn’t make a wish.”

  Santa didn’t say anything, but those twinkling eyes laughed at her. He shook the bag again and held it out for Henry.

  Henry squinted back at Santa. “Who are you?” he asked. “What happened to Charlie Connor?”

  Santa just smiled and gave another jolly old chuckle. Disgruntled, Henry turned away without taking a card from Santa’s bag. A moment later, she saw him talking to someone who worked there. Kari wandered around a bit before he caught up with her again at the front of the store.

  “The manager says Charlie moved away,” he said sadly. “Didn’t even say goodbye.”

  “Were you good friends?”

  “Nah. Just here. But I wish sometimes that I could nail people’s feet down. You know? Keep them from leaving.”

  Like his wife, who was now married to a ukulele player. Like Ty, who’d needed to strike out on his own, if only for a little while.

  “You're never going to win that battle, Henry.”

  “No, I don’t suppose I will. Can’t fault me for trying, though.” He took a deep breath. “You have yourself a good day, Kari.”

  “You, too, Henry,” she said, watching him walk out the door as Silver Bells played over the store’s speakers.

  Chapter Nine

  The Starlight Bend High School Hockey Team had had a stellar season and now they were moving into playoffs, which meant they had to practice. But that didn’t mean Ty had to like it. His thoughts weren’t on ice, pucks, or plays. They were centered on a beautiful woman with September eyes and the lips of an angel.

  He worked the team hard, but ended practice twenty minutes early. In record time, he swung home, showered, grabbed Buttercup and all her doggy stuff, then he was off, only stopping to pick up some wine and a bouquet of flowers from the stand at the front of the market.

  He was nervous, he realized. He hadn’t been this revved up over a woman in . . . ever. And Kari wasn’t just any woman. That first night, he’d known she’d be hard to keep, but at the time, he hadn’t known how much he’d want to keep her. Now, the thought that circled in his head was simply, how? How did a man hold onto the likes Kari Dale?

  He didn’t have the answer. Yet. He refused to believe that one didn’t exist, though. And his own determined fixation rattled him. She’d worked her way beneath his skin and she hadn’t even been trying. In fact, the opposite was true. If he’d left it up to her, she’d have stuck to her plans and never looked back.

  Except . . . and this was the part that had him churned up inside . . . when given the choice, when told the ball was in her court, she’d come to him. He smiled, remembering that powerful feeling that had gripped him when he saw her standing outside his door.

  Jesus, he was a mess. He sounded like one of his students, instead of a grown man who’d been out in the world, who’d made his own way. But things had always come easy to Ty. Money, success, recognition . . . women.

  Until Kari Dale, the girl who never truly unpacked her bags.

  “What do you think, Buttercup?”

  Buttercup sat in the passenger seat beside him, tongue lolling, eyes adoring when she looked his way.

  Kari opened her door when he pulled up, looking like something he must have dreamed. She was too beautiful to be real, all gorgeous hair and hazel eyes. Flowers in one hand, everything else in the other, Ty made his way up the snow covered walk with Buttercup on his heels. Kari smiled boldly and stepped back for them to enter, kneeling down to stroke the little dog.

  She’d changed into a soft jersey that clung to her breasts and fell to her thighs. Leggings covered her shapely legs and fluffy pink slippers were on her feet. She couldn’t have been sexier if she’d been wearing fishnets and high heels.

  “Hi,” he said.

  She looked up. “Hi.”

  They stared at one another for a moment, grinning like idiots, the tight rope of excitement binding them both. This was a moment, the kind that became a memory. The kind that marked a new direction in the journey.

  She’d come to him. He understood how monumental that was for this woman. And he wanted to make sure she understood it, too. The game had changed, now. And they both had skin in it.

  She stood slowly, hands nervous at her sides. Ty remembered the flowers and held them out. Her gaze went all soft and dewy. “Flowers,” she murmured, burying her face in the bouquet. “Thank you.”

  Deep inside, something turned.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked, breathless. “I made dinner.”

  “Should I take that as a sign you don’t like me anymore?”

  “No,” she said softly, blushing.

  She took his hand and led him into the kitchen where a host of good smells waited. She’d cooked—for him—and he was hungry. He hadn’t eaten since lunch and his belly felt hollow. But another hunger trumped his growling stomach. A hunger of the mind and body for this woman.

  He tucked Buttercup’s bed under the table where she’d like it, and set the food and dish on top of the counter. “Get on your bed, girl,” he told the little dog.

  Wagging her tail happily, she did as she was told.

  Kari’s calendar caught his eye when he turned. It displayed three months at a time. October had a big X through it, but each day in November had its own mark. A countdown, complete with numbers in the corners. Nothing like a little reality to dampen the mood.

  They didn’t have time to waste.

  He caught her in his arms when she turned from the vase she’d put the flowers in and kissed her hard. She’d been waiting, at least that’s how it felt as she surged into his arms, warm and soft and sweetly scented. After she’d left the school today, he’d had to sit behind his desk for the rest of his class to hide his hard on. Even the next class, because his erection never really went away. And now she was in his arms, her mouth hot against his and her hands all over him. He hadn’t intended to come through the door like a cave man, but he couldn’t let her go. Not now.

  “Do you need to turn the oven off,” he asked, his mouth on her throat. “I don’t think we’re going to be eating for a while.”

  “Crockpot,” she answered, titling her head to the side so he had full access. “It’s fine.”

  The house was small, the bedroom not hard to find. But the floor would have worked, too. That’s how m
uch he needed her. He didn’t rush, though. Couldn’t, when his fingers wanted to linger over every inch they touched. Her hair was so soft and it smelled like flowers. The skin at her throat was fragrant, too. Silky and pale, warm beneath his lips.

  She moved with him, her body restless, as needy as his, her hands exploring, lingering. He pushed the stretchy material of her leggings down and slid his hand between her thighs. She was so hot, so ready. She moaned and bucked and Ty nearly came undone.

  He had to let her go, but just long enough to strip her clothes. The jersey came off, revealing bare breasts and warm skin. He tugged her leggings the rest of the way down, skimming panties along with them. She kicked them off the rest of the way. On his knees in front of her, Ty groaned. She was perfect and she fit him like she’d been made for it.

  He pressed his open mouth to the tender spot between belly and pubic bone, breathing in the sultry scent of her. They worked together on his clothes, until they were both stripped bare.

  “I can’t keep my hands off you,” he muttered, finding the curve of her buttocks, the hollows of her throat, the soft weight of her breasts, the ripple of ribs. She stroked him freely from breastbone to belly, her touch, warm and light until she circled him with her fingers and the touch became seductive . . . possessive. He wasn’t alone in this cyclone of need.

  He couldn’t wait any longer, not if he wanted to stay sane. With a groan, he pushed her back against the pillows and found a place between her spread thighs to settle, to begin. He was so aroused that even the light sheath of the condom caused pain, the good kind. The kind he wanted more of.

  And then, at last, he was inside her. Deep within that hot fist of her body. She arched, making a sound that he remembered. It danced over his senses and drove him to a place beyond the physical. He could spend his whole life trying to illicit that sound and never grow tired of it.

  Kari matched his rhythm, bowing her body to meet his, bracing her feet to lift her hips. He palmed her mons, letting his thumb slide down and toy with the tight point of nerves at the top, feeling her gasp and pant as he brought her closer and closer. She moaned his name as she came, her brows pulled together, her teeth sunk into her bottom lip.

  His orgasm lacked the elegance of hers, but it came from some unfathomable place inside him, ripping through his body in a burst of agonizing pleasure. He feared he was crushing her, but she’d wrapped her arms and legs around him so tightly that they became one continuous vibration. She came again with him buried so deeply in her body that he felt the muscles gripping, refusing to let go even as her breath came hot against his throat and her heart pounded in tandem with his.

  She didn’t let him catch his breath. With a twist and a push of her leg, she rolled them both until she was seated on his hips, still connected by the pulsing of their sex. Slowly, sinuously, she began to move, lifting so slightly, reseating herself more completely. He was rock hard in an instant, ready to claim her again. Make her his for now, for always. But even as he captured her mouth in a slow, endless kiss, even as his body thrust into hers, bringing them both to that point of no return, the question emerged.

  How could he make Kari Dale stay?

  Chapter Ten

  They had dinner in bed, naked, laughing at the slippery spaghetti noodles, sharing a fork, a bowl. Touching Ty, being with him like this . . . she was drunk from the way he made her feel.

  She trailed her fingers over his strong arms and broad chest, the ridges of rib and abdomen, loving the way sinew and bone shaped him, the feel of the masculine terrain that was so different from her own soft curves. Each time she turned to him, Ty seemed to feel the same way and he never tired of bringing them both to that dizzy, crazy place of climax.

  At last they’d moved to the living room, but they hadn’t bothered with clothes. Ty started a fire and Kari pulled the quilt off the bed so they could wrap themselves together beneath it. Shyly, Buttercup left her bed and curled in the trailing ends of the blanket. Kari leaned down to scratch behind her ear before snuggling up to Ty again.

  “I met your dad today,” Kari said after a while, her head resting on his chest. She turned her face so she could see his expression.

  “Where?” he asked, head back. Giving nothing away

  “The big Christmas tree at that store outside of town.”

  “The Wishing Tree,” he said with a small nod. “He loves granting wishes. When I was a kid, I used to think it was a magic tree. I was jealous of the kids who got to use it.”

  “I thought all the gifts went to underprivileged children?”

  “They do. I didn’t really know what that meant at the time, though.”

  She smiled against his skin. “What would you have wished for?”

  His chest rose with a deep breath and she ran her fingers up from his belly to lay over his heart. “I wanted peace. A happy family. The kind on TV that ate meals together. Made up after they fought. Cared. And didn’t try to hurt each other all the time.”

  She stilled, surprised. “Was it . . . abusive in your house?”

  “Nah, not that. There was just always so much conflict. No one could get along for more than five minutes—even that was rare. My mom was always mad at my dad or fighting with my grandpa. And Grandpa, he lived to stir the pot. He was a hard man and he was on my dad’s back every single day. Nothing he did was ever good enough.”

  Ty ran his fingertips over her shoulder in an idle caress, but his voice had grown soft, distant. She moved closer, sensing that removing himself emotionally was how he’d coped with the drama of his childhood. Wanting him to stay connected with her.

  “What happened between you and your dad?” she asked.

  He let out a deep breath. “Sometimes, I don’t even know myself. I mean, we always had our issues, but . . . my grandpa never quit being the head of the household, even when the household didn’t belong to him. He thought he should—and could—dictate how things should be. He didn’t understand the meaning of boundaries, so he’d jump in when my parents were fighting. He’d overrule them when it came to me. Drove my mom batshit.”

  “Your dad never told him to butt out?”

  “It went against the grain, talking back to his father. And Grandpa kept it that way, always cutting the legs out from underneath my dad. Making him feel like he wasn’t man enough to manage his life on his own, let alone handle a wife and son.”

  “That’s unconscionable,” she said, “his own father undermining him like that.”

  Ty nodded. “When I got old enough to stand up to my grandpa, I got in the middle of it all. I ended up getting the belt from my dad and my ass chewed from my Gramps. I learned my lesson. No good deed goes unpunished, you know?”

  “Is your grandfather still alive?”

  “No. He died a week before I left for college.”

  “That must have been hard on you,” she said carefully, knowing that when grief, confusion, anger, and change collided, they could rip a person apart.

  “My dad never said it, but it always felt like he blamed me for it. I guess that was easier than accepting that my grandpa’s time was up.”

  She understood that, in a way. She’d lost both of her parents to a car accident when she was eighteen. Her dad had been driving, probably thinking about one of his inventions and not paying attention to the road. He’d over compensated when he’d drifted into oncoming traffic and lost control of the vehicle. It had been sudden, violent, and irrevocable. She’d needed someone else to blame for the devastating loss, but there hadn’t been anyone. For a long time, she’d blamed herself, though she hadn’t even been with them.

  “About a month later,” Ty went on, “my mom announced that she was done with Montana and done with my dad. She filed for a divorce, packed her bags, and moved to Hawaii.”

  “Wow,” Kari said, thinking of the pain she’d heard in Henry’s voice when they’d spoken. “He must have felt like the whole world had abandoned him.”

  “Bingo.”

  Kari
propped herself up so she could see his face. He wore an aloof expression—like that would convince them both that he didn’t really care what had happened in the past.

  “And now that you’re back, he won’t let you in,” she said.

  He nodded.

  “You think he’s afraid you’ll hurt him again?”

  Ty met her eyes, surprise in the depths of his. “Is that what you think?”

  “What else would it be?”

  “I guess I thought . . . he and my grandpa loved the store so much. My dad didn’t know jack about running it, but he loved it. I had no interest in following in their footsteps, though. I always thought that was what made him so angry. Him selling it to you—kind of proved that.”

  His eyes were hard, his brow furrowed, the line of muscles in his neck taut.

  “You two have a complicated relationship,” she said softly.

  “I guess that’s better than none at all,” he muttered.

  She climbed in his lap, straddling his thighs so she faced him. “You need to fix things with him, Ty. For the both of you.”

  He let out a soft laugh and shook his head. “I know. Just haven’t figured out how to get there from here.”

  His hands skimmed up her thighs to her hips. She leaned down and kissed him. “You’ll figure it out.”

  From what she’d seen in Ty, and heard in both his and his father’s voices, she believed the two men cared about one another, and they were just too stubborn to admit it.

  Men.

  He kissed her back. Slow, lingering, and full of all the emotions she could feel inside of him. When she pulled away, his expression was serious. Finally, he gave her a small smile. “Where have you been all my life, Kari with a K?”

  “I don’t know,” she said softly. “I’ve been on the go since I was eighteen.”

  That darkened his eyes and banished the smile. She wished she’d kept her big mouth shut.

  “Always in such a hurry to be gone, aren’t you?” he said softly.

  “Maybe not so much in this very minute.”

  “That’s right. I’ve got you now.”