A Bad Boy for Christmas

by Jessica Lemmon

  “Unbelievable.” Donovan shook his head. “You lucky son of a bitch.”

  Briefly, Jonas’s eyes flickered over to Connor. Connor knew his buddy well, and he knew that he did not consider himself lucky at all. He’d lost his family after the war—lost everything after the war except for his person, which was intact. On the outside, anyway. On the inside, Connor wasn’t so sure.

  Over the last couple of weeks he’d been getting worried about his friend. Jonas was a bit of a shut-in as it was, but he had been insistent Connor didn’t have to come over. “What with your new girl and all,” he’d said.

  Connor ignored him and visited anyway. Faith was a big part of his life right now, but he could split his time with her and the man who saved his life.

  “Beer?” Evan stood from the table. They’d set up in the great room, where Faith and Connor had draped every surface in gold- and cream-colored everything. Ribbons, flowers, garland…Right now, the lights were off, the corner next to the rebuilt stone fireplace cleared for the trees Connor was picking up this weekend. They’d decorate those to match, he imagined. He couldn’t stop a small smile from pulling his lips. This frilly stuff may not be his style, but watching Faith’s eyes light up whenever she was decking the halls had him warming to the idea of the upcoming holiday.

  “Switching to whiskey,” Donovan muttered, eyeing the pile of chips he’d just lost. “That’s going to leave a dent.”

  “I only take cash,” Jonas said, grinning.

  Donny grinned back. “Ev, whiskey!” he called to Evan, who disappeared out into the foyer.

  “Mess with the bull, get the horns, gentlemen,” Jonas was still bragging. “But next time—”

  Voices raised in the foyer—one Evan’s, one Connor did not recognize. What followed was the sound of the heavy front door banging the wall. Without thinking, he leaped to his feet, turning over his chair. He was vaguely aware of Jonas jumping to attention and following him out of the room.

  In a flash, Connor was in the foyer, shoulders back, eyes alert, fists balled. Then he spotted the reason for the ruckus and felt himself relax.

  Self-proclaimed rock god Asher Knight stood in the open doorway.

  Evan had him wrapped in a hug, lifted him, then dropped him to his boots. “The hell are you doing here?”

  “At ease, soldiers.” Donny’s hands slapped both Connor’s and Jonas’s shoulders. He slipped past them and held out a hand to Asher. “Dickhead must have heard me say the word ‘whiskey.’” Ash hugged Donny, clapping his back as he did. When they parted, Donny said, “You’re early.”

  “Wanted to surprise you.” Ash turned and pulled two bags from the front porch. “I didn’t check in anywhere yet. Have room for one more in this mansion?”

  “So happens I do.”

  Bags in hand, Ash nodded as he passed by. “Connor.”

  “Good to see you, man.” Connor patted his shoulder. He’d be the first to admit the rock star—dressed all in black, his lean body suggesting he drank more than he ate—was a tad immature, but he supposed immaturity came with the job description.

  “Maybe we should relocate to the bar in the ballroom,” Donovan suggested. “Fully stocked.” He raised a dark eyebrow at Connor before leading Asher up the stairs to show him his temporary digs.

  “I’ll take my money and run,” Jonas said. “But thanks for having me.”

  “You good to drive?” Connor asked.

  “Yeah, absolutely.” His eyes were clear. Connor nodded.

  Evan pulled out his wallet. “I’ll cover Donny’s since I’m bottoming out his booze tonight.”

  “I’ll hit you later,” Connor promised, then walked Jonas to the door. Once he was gone, he turned to face Evan.

  “Shots?”

  With his buddy good to get himself home, and his girl safe and sound at Gloria’s, Connor figured why not. It’d been a while since he tied one on.

  “Shots.”

  * * *

  Asher, rings covering fingers latched around the rim of a glass half full of whiskey, leaned on the bar top, and narrowed his eyelids conspiratorially. “I have something to say.”

  They’d been hitting the bottle pretty hard for the last hour plus, by Connor’s estimations. He was now nursing a beer and feeling like he might topple off his seat. With great effort, he leaned in. “So say it.”

  The rock star’s gaze met his, but he looked like he was having trouble focusing. “None of you can tell your girls.”

  Evan muttered, “Fuck man, out with it.” Far as Connor could tell, Ev had been matching them drink for drink but was nowhere near as plastered. How’d he do that?

  “Especially you.” Ash threw the shot back and slammed the glass. “Charlie and Gloria are close and I don’t want her saying anything.”

  “Sounds serious.” Donovan, playing the part of bartender, downed his whiskey and pushed the bottle across the bar.

  “You either.” Asher refilled his glass, then pointed at Connor with the bottle. “And you don’t say anything to Legs. Promise? It’s big, guys.”

  Though inebriated, Ash did look uncharacteristically solemn.

  “Promise,” Connor vowed. Whatever Ash’s secret was, he doubted it’d come up in casual conversation between him and Faith.

  “Promise,” Donovan said.

  When Ash turned to Evan, he nodded. “Yeah.”

  Ash took a deep breath. “I have a son.”

  The only sound in the room was Asher spinning his glass on the wooden bar, eyes locked on the amber-colored liquid. This went on for a minute, maybe two, before he spoke again.

  “I have to verify he’s mine, but she claims he’s about a year and a half old. And I’m the father. Math works out,” he announced, his tone glum.

  Connor felt the world drop out from under him. Asher’s story was a hell of a lot like his own. Maya coming to him pregnant, telling him she was having his child. He’d uprooted his entire life for a baby he later learned wasn’t his.

  “Who?” Evan asked.

  Asher didn’t look up from his glass. “Jordan.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Who’s Jordan?” Donny asked.

  “One-night stand,” Evan answered. “The girl who busted into his cabin the year I moved here.”

  Donovan’s turn to swear. “Shit, man.”

  Asher lifted his head. “This is why I don’t want it getting back to Glo.”

  Connor had heard the story trickle down from Sofie to Faith at some point or other. Bits and pieces he’d put together. When Ash was in town for the Starving Artists Festival a few years back, he slept with a chick who was here on vacation. Then he and Gloria hooked up. After that, Ash claimed he was loyal only to her, but Glo stopped by his place one night and the same girl—Jordan, apparently—answered the door dressed in very little.

  “You’ll have to tell her eventually,” Evan pointed out.

  “If the kid’s mine,” Asher said.

  “Still,” Donny said.

  “It’s his story,” Connor interrupted. All heads swiveled to him. He looked at Asher. “It’s yours, Ash. You need to be the one who tells it. I won’t say anything.” He exchanged glances with Donovan who likely knew right where his head was. Back on Maya. The day the dumbass biker showed up in his parents’ driveway. The day she turned to tell Connor she was a liar and he wasn’t going to be a husband or a father.

  Connor had demanded proof, too. Hurt, angry, he requested a DNA test, but Maya had already had one and provided proof not a day later. Life as he knew it came crashing down around his ears. All his plans—quitting the restaurant, starting his HVAC classes, laboring for his father when it ranked right up there with having dental work—were for nothing.

  In a flash, Connor realized he’d mired himself in a job he hated and was back living at home. A sudden desperation to leave overtook him. He had nowhere else to go since Donovan—his former roomie—had moved to New York by then. So, Connor enlisted, and deployed, beginning the four-year journ
ey into welcome oblivion shortly after.

  “Sure that’s the only kid you got out there?” Evan asked, breaking the tension around them with a lazy smile.

  Asher leaned on his barstool and hooked an arm over the back. “You’re an asshole, you know that, Downey?”

  But he was smiling. Covering, if Connor had to guess. Donny refilled their glasses and they lifted them in cheers. For what, no one said.

  Connor guessed each man had his own reason for drinking.

  * * *

  Three live evergreens were hauled into the mansion on Monday morning. Connor, Donovan, and Asher dragged them through the house one by one. Faith convinced Sofie to take a quick break to stand in the doorway of the office and watch.

  Sexy men dragging trees around was not a sight to be missed.

  Once the trees were in their respective metal stands, the fun part began. The decorating. The girls had gone shopping earlier in the day and therefore had an embarrassing amount of garland, lights, and ornaments. Sofie was also pleased to find a few boxes marked XMAS that had belonged to Donny’s late grandmother hidden in the basement. Boxes that somehow had been missed when he’d donated truckloads of junk to the thrift store last year. Along with all the new decorations, there were some antique ornaments to put on the tree as well.

  First, though, Sofie asked Donny if he thought hanging them brought bad juju. Faith knew his childhood was one full of abuse and neglect, and in this house, no less. Even though his father and grandmother were no longer alive, Faith had to admit, she had half a mind to toss even the most precious antiques into the trash.

  But Donovan didn’t feel that way. When Sofie had asked, his eyes zeroed in on hers, then he brushed her lips and said, “You are my good juju, Scampi.”

  Seriously. So stinking sweet.

  By mid-week, they were done with everything, including the toy shopping Faith and Connor had to do for their own donations to the drive. Being in a toy store, hand in hand with the man she was sleeping with, definitely made her feel as though things had become way more serious than she had planned. But then she reminded herself that she’d agreed she was all in. And “all in” included toy shopping at the moment.

  Afterward, she and Connor ate dinner out, then returned to her house to wrap their gifts. The three large shopping bags in her living room took up most of the free floor space.

  “Wonder if you could have bought any more Legos?” she teased, unshouldering her purse and pulling her coat off.

  He caught the coat before she had it all the way off and strolled to her closet in the hallway. She watched as he hung their coats side by side, which also made her think things may have advanced without her permission. She quickly shut the train of thought down. Any kind of relationship with Connor would mean not overthinking every little thing. Plus, this time of year tended to be a nostalgic time of year for her, even though she’d never really experienced a Christmas in a traditional sense, so it was best she didn’t put too much thought into anything.

  “Legos are timeless.” He closed the closet door. “Perfect for all ages.”

  “I wanted to do something tonight…” And since he was here, she would have to do it with him.

  He came to her and rested his hands on her waist. “I want to do something tonight, too. Three guesses what it is. First two don’t count.”

  “You won’t like it.” She shook her head and peered at him through her lashes.

  He frowned but he was teasing her, she could tell. “Is it candle wax? I had a bad experience with hot candle wax once, but it won’t stop me from trying it again. Whatever your brand of kink, Cupcake, I’m in.”

  Lighting her on fire with his kisses was something he did on a near daily basis, so she wasn’t surprised when his lips covered hers, then covered them again. When he gave her room to breathe, she palmed his face.

  “It’s a Wonderful Life,” she said, giving him one more brief smooch.

  He grinned. “It ain’t half-bad.”

  She laughed, loving the sound, the feel of it rolling around in her chest. So carefree. How come, ever since he’d come into her life, her worries had erased?

  “I mean the movie. Every year, I watch classic Christmas movies.” She dragged her fingernails along the bottom of his head, through the short hair trimmed neatly at his neck. “Except for this year. I haven’t wanted to force-feed you holiday spirit, so…”

  “Because I won’t go away, you can’t watch your holiday fluff?” A smirk curved the corner of his lip.

  She kissed it. “Right.”

  “Okay, Cupcake. But if I get bored, we get to make out during.”

  He didn’t get bored. And what was more surprising, given how traditional his family seemed, he had never seen the movie. He claimed Kendra and Dixie watched it, so he always thought it was a girl movie.

  “You are not helping relieve this assumption,” he told her when she started to sniffle.

  The credits rolled, and Faith wiped the tears from under her eyes. “It’s full of hope. I guess that’s what this entire season is about for me.” She sniffed again, unable to help herself. “Hope.” She rolled her eyes at herself and started to get up from the couch. “Sorry. I get sentimental.”

  He pulled her onto his lap, pushed the length of her hair over one shoulder, and kissed her neck. “I like you sentimental. Seeing you happy makes me happy.” He placed another light kiss on her neck, then pointed at the tree on the other side of the room decorated in red and green. The miniature fake pine may not be much, but it was enough for her.

  “That. Is an embarrassment.”

  “I know, I know.” She felt her eyes roll. “Christmas trees. Bah humbug.”

  “No. Fake Christmas trees. Bah humbug. Should’ve let me bring you a big fat fir.”

  “And put it where?” She gestured around her meager apartment. With her couch and love seat, entertainment stand, and end tables—and now shopping bags—the room was packed.

  “Just saying, you deserve a really big tree. You deserve a perfect Christmas.”

  She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Why, Connor McClain, I do believe I’m making you sentimental.”

  Pressing her hip onto a certain hardening part of his body, he put his lips against hers and said, “I do believe you’re making me something. Sure as hell isn’t sentimental.” With that, he tilted the back of her head and slipped his tongue past her lips.

  They made out, the music from the movie fading into the background, the soft lights from her tiny Christmas tree illuminating the corner.

  Life really was pretty wonderful.

  CHAPTER 17

  You’re pushing it,” Connor said from the stove in his apartment.

  Faith, clattering around somewhere in the back of his house, promised, “You’ll like it.”

  Like it.

  He grunted as he glanced over at the potted rosemary, shaped like a Christmas tree, then to the white and red poinsettias on his kitchen table, their pots wrapped in shiny red foil. Faith had insisted on bringing some Christmas cheer to his apartment since they were staying at his place tonight.

  He’d gone to see Jonas for their normal guys’ night but being in his friend’s apartment had not been very uplifting. Jonas hadn’t decorated for Christmas, either. And the fact that Connor had noticed the absence of it proved the effect Faith was having on him.

  He left her at his place, and she promised he would find her where he left her, in his bed, a sweet, satisfied smile on her face, wrapped in his dark blue sheets. Looking back, he would admit it was not easy to leave her there. But it was sure easy to come home to her.

  When he walked in, he did not find Faith in bed, but bustling around his apartment. He found plants instead, which she insisted was one of the reasons he didn’t like being home.

  “How is it you love plants and have no plants?” she’d accused. Good point. He supposed to him, this apartment was never really home. Thankfully, she didn’t buy him a midget Christmas tree
and decorate it. But, she did buy a singing Santa Claus on the stand. Motion sensor. It started its repetitive ho-ho-ho-ing and Connor found the off switch and shut it down. That thing was going in the trash at the first opportunity.

  Try as he might to be a Grinch, he couldn’t be upset about any of this. Faith’s smile lit up her entire face. She buzzed around here on a mission, thrilled to share things with him she had never shared with anyone else.

  When he asked about her douchebag ex and their Christmases, she told him she and the jerk-off had decorated their shared house. Faith admitted she had always felt like she was doing everything wrong. Evidently, Michael was incredibly particular about his “environment,” and she wasn’t permitted to have any say in the decorations without expressed written consent. That being the case, even though Connor knew he wasn’t a dick like her ex-fiancé, he was further incentivized to allow her to do whatever she wanted to do to his apartment.

  Singing Santa included. Maybe he wouldn’t throw it out.

  “Almost ready!”

  “Take your time.” He’d come home from Jonas’s house starving. While he waited he scrambled up some eggs. Leaning at the counter, he shoveled them into his mouth and waited for his girl to surprise him with whatever she was doing in his bedroom. In his bedroom without him.

  Better be good.

  Taking the orange juice from the fridge, he drank from the carton, then looked around his living room at the plants, the Santa…and silver garland draped over the TV stand. Damn, she was wearing on him. He didn’t even mind the fact that there were Christmas decorations in his house. Not that he hated the holiday, by any means. He always bought gifts for his siblings, his nephews, and his parents. He went to his mom and dad’s house and ate honey-baked ham. Eggnog was something he enjoyed with his brother-in-law, Tad. But Connor never bothered decorating his place for the holidays. Hell, he hadn’t bothered unpacking yet. He never decorated his place, period.

  Looking around now, he realized Donovan was right. This apartment was a crash pad. And Jonas lived much the same way. Minimal furniture. Boxes that should have been unpacked years ago still taped up. Like they were both squatting until something better came along.