A Bad Boy for Christmas

by Jessica Lemmon

  “Donny will talk him into coming. Connor lives for home-cooked meals. Plus he’ll want to look in on his babies while he’s here,” Sofie said of the room filled with lavender.

  Sure enough a second later, Connor lowered his phone and called out, “Pack your shit, Cupcake, it’s gonna be a Pate mansion Christmas.”

  * * *

  Abundance Market was teeming with shoppers young and old who’d flocked to the grocery to stock up on food for the “big storm.” In all likelihood, the storm would strand people for a day or two before salt and plow trucks came to dig out the residents.

  Faith skirted around a woman with an overflowing cart. No one needed that much food.

  When they set foot through the doors, Connor had palmed her back, spotting Michael rushing around looking harried. She’d seen him, too, but he hadn’t seen her yet.

  “You sure?” Connor asked, his concern evident.

  “I’m sure. Divide and conquer is the only way we will get out of here before Christmas. He’s too busy to notice me anyway.” And if he did, what was he going to say? Nothing. There was nothing to say. He was engaged to be married to the girl he’d left her for, so really the potential of Michael striking up a conversation with Faith was pretty slim.

  Connor kissed her on the lips, gave her a handled plastic basket—keeping one for himself since the carts were all in use—and rushed off in the opposite direction. He was tasked with picking up breakfast stuffs for the two of them, lunchmeat and cheese from the deli, and Faith was in charge of chicken breasts and frozen veggies, and wine. Sofie and Donny promised they had plenty of food, but Faith refused to show up empty-handed. She and Connor could wrangle together a meal or two during the long weekend without a problem.

  After her basket was half full, she traded hands, wishing she could have found a cart. Food was heavy. She veered toward the wine aisle to see if Layer Cake Primitivo was in stock. She nabbed the last three bottles. The wine did not help lighten the load.

  Next to the pharmacy, she put the overflowing basket on the floor and shook out her hands. There was a long line, mostly elderly people, and an awkwardly positioned stand to the side offered the appropriate combination of condoms and pregnancy tests.

  Hmm.

  She didn’t have her period yet and was starting to legitimately worry. Maybe picking up a test wouldn’t be a bad idea. If it came back negative, she could drink the wine in celebration. If it came back positive, she’d let Sofie drink it for her.

  Sofie would help her through this. Faith would need a friend to wait outside the door while she found out if her fling had resulted in a child or not.

  A baby.

  God. Terrifying.

  And sort of exciting, if she were being honest. But mostly exciting in a terrifying way.

  She and Connor were friends, great friends who had great sex, but an entire life spent shuttling kids back and forth…? No thanks. A pregnancy would not a marriage make. She refused to get married and make it work “for the kids.” For one, she was cursed, and she was not attempting to walk down the aisle in the name of a baby. She was raised by a single mom without a dad around. And while he wouldn’t bail—she knew him well enough to know that—she also knew her child would be fine being raised by parents who weren’t wed.

  So really there wasn’t anything to worry about.

  Except having a baby with Connor.

  She felt a presence behind her and for a heart-stopping second feared Michael had found her, or Cookie, and here she was, staring at prophylactics and pregnancy tests. Well, she could lie and say she was shopping for condoms. Way less embarrassing.

  But then a rough, but gentle voice cut through the din of rushing shoppers. “Cupcake.”

  She turned to find Connor’s brow dented with concern. His eyes went from the rack to her face.

  “Basket got heavy. Just needed to rest a second.”

  He nodded, lifted the basket in his free hand. His basket had to weigh a ton, too. She spotted cereal, a carton of almond milk, orange juice, eggs, peanut butter, and bread, and that was just what she could see.

  His eyes went back to the rack. “Something else you need to get?”

  “Nope.” She smiled brightly but he wasn’t buying it, his expression one of frustration mixed with worry.

  “Talk to me, sweetness.”

  Unable to deny him the truth—he’d never lie to her—she talked to him. “I’m late.”

  Hazel eyes hit hers and held.

  “Like, really late,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “The timing is bad to find out, isn’t it? Why add worry to a weekend spent with friends?”

  He took a deep breath, his chest expanding under his leather coat. She held her breath, waiting for his response. At last, he said, “Grab two, Cupcake. We need to be sure.”

  Swallowing thickly, she nodded, pushed past a cart standing between her and her future, and plucked two tests from the rack.

  Connor lifted his basket and she threw the boxes in.

  Wordlessly, they made their way to a register with the shortest line, and he put the baskets at their feet. While she chewed on her fingernail, he pulled her close and kissed her temple.

  There was no need to say anything. As usual, they were completely in sync.

  She might be pregnant. If so, they needed to know.

  If so, they would handle it.

  CHAPTER 21

  You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Getting out of the grocery store had taken thirty minutes, even after he and Faith had stepped into line. The cashier ran out of change, then ran out of paper bags, then the lady in front of them had to write a check but didn’t have any form of ID.

  He’d kept his cool throughout the very frustrating wait, kept his worry in check when Faith told him she might be pregnant with his child, but now, crawling through town while the sky dumped piles of snow at record speed was trying every last ounce of his patience.

  “Should we go back?” she asked worriedly from the passenger seat of his truck.

  “No, babe. The entire town is behind us. No way we can turn around and get anywhere.” He glanced in his rearview mirror. Cars were barely visible through the blowing snow. They were closer to the mansion than either of their apartments anyway. “This was stupid. We should have stayed at your place.”

  “We’ll get there.” She clasped his hand and for another forty-five minutes, he rolled at snail’s pace through the ever-increasing snow pile, finally determining one thing for certain.

  They were not getting there.

  A cruiser sat at the intersection of Lee and Smith Streets, the officer dressed for the cold in a fur hat and thick parka gesturing in one of two different directions. Connor didn’t need to hear what the guy had to say because he could see a huge pine lying across the road through the blur of white.

  “Road’s closed. There’s no way to get to Donny’s.”

  “What? Why?” She craned her neck and must have spotted the mass of branches and limbs blocking the way because next, she slumped in her seat. “What do we do?”

  “We turn back for your place, we can fight traffic, get there in an hour or two.” The car that had pulled out of line before him spun in the snow before getting traction and lurching forward a few meager inches. “Maybe.”

  “Two hours,” she mumbled, despair in her voice.

  Or they could go around the tree, hang a left on Linden. The road would not take them to the mansion, but behind it. And Connor knew his way to the back of a certain friend’s property.

  “Have an idea.”

  Since Donovan had asked him to work on the cottage, Connor had been over there a few times. If the electric was out, there was a generator. And a fireplace. He’d cleaned the flue, so it wasn’t like there was a family of raccoons living in the chimney or anything.

  “Where are you going?” Faith asked as he swung out of the train of cars.

  “Around.” Putting his beast into four-wheel drive, he gave the officer—w
ho was not Brady Hutchins, he noticed—a wave as he skirted around the line of cars. Then he turned and followed the snowy back roads to the cottage.

  When she worried aloud they might get stuck, he assured her they wouldn’t. What they needed to do was get off the damn road before they were wedged in between cars not fit for this weather. If that happened, most people would be abandoning their vehicles and heading for the nearest shops to take refuge. No doubt the hotels were full for the holiday.

  Sorry, but Faith was not spending her Christmas in a hotel or a store. Their Christmas.

  Our first Christmas.

  By the time he was bumping along the snow-covered driveway leading through the trees to the cottage, she caught on. “Hey, I know this place. Sofie showed it to me once. How smart are you?”

  “Very. Just ask my ninth-grade biology teacher.”

  Her soft laugh permeated the cab of his truck. He stopped in front of the cottage, relieved beyond measure they’d made it down the snowy drive.

  He turned to her and smiled. “Food, shelter, and heat in a few. Stay in here and keep warm while I get a fire started.”

  “I can help.”

  “Cupcake.”

  “I’m not going to sit here and let you do everything. Are there blankets in there?”

  “Think so. And if the electric isn’t out, we may be able to get hot water. Furnace, not so much.”

  “I’ll call Sofie. Let her know what happened.”

  “You do that. Sit here a minute. Let me at least clear a path for you to walk.” She didn’t argue. He leaned over and kissed her softly. “I got you.”

  He climbed out of the truck and landed in deep snow. Then he waded to the shed where he knew there was a shovel, pulled it out, and started to dig.

  I got you.

  A smile tipped his mouth and he let that idea warm him. Hell yeah, he had her.

  * * *

  “In his truck, waiting for Connor to shovel a walkway for me,” Faith told Sofie over the phone. She felt sort of guilty sitting here while he dug, but the snow was shin-deep, and she had on a pair of tennis shoes not made for traipsing through the snow.

  “Donny said there is no way to get out to you until it stops snowing.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure if there was a way for Connor to drive over the fields and through the woods to your mansion, he’d have done it already.”

  There was a pause on the line before Sofie said, “Unless you don’t want us to come get you.”

  Faith would be lying if she said that thought hadn’t crossed her mind at least three times already.

  “You have groceries enough for a day or two, right? And firewood. And even if the power is out, there is a generator…”

  “Sounds rustic,” Faith said, not sharing her true feelings. What it sounded like was romantic. Spending the weekend in a cozy cabin, fire burning, sipping red wine…well, if the pregnancy test was negative. Wow. No way was she sharing that news over the phone.

  “Not a bad way to spend Christmas.”

  Christmas. Faith thought of her apartment at home, the gifts under the tree, the lights she’d draped over her bookshelves. The stockings hung by the patio door. She’d miss being surrounded by cozy decorations. She sighed.

  Sofie must have heard her sigh. “Honey, you don’t need fancy decorations to make Christmas with Connor special.”

  “Mind reader.”

  “Call us if you need us. Donny was halfway out the door to do what, I have no idea, but I stopped him.”

  “He’d probably start digging a trail and not stop until he got here.”

  “Yeah, him and Gertie with a little barrel around her neck.”

  They laughed at the visual and then Faith noticed Connor coming for the truck. “Oh, I have to go. Here comes my landscaper in snow-covered denim.”

  “Have fun.”

  She shoved the phone in her coat pocket when he pulled open the passenger door. “Turn off the engine, Cupcake, and grab your purse.”

  She did as she was told and he lifted her off the seat and carried her in his arms to the covered front porch. Firewood was stacked against one wall, an ax speared into a log.

  When they got to the door, he put her onto her feet. His cheeks were red, cold, and his breath was coming out in visible vapor between them.

  “Front door service,” he said with a smile. Despite the effort he’d expended, he looked happy.

  “You’re in your element, aren’t you?” She brushed some of the snow off his coat and grinned at him. He’d pulled on a navy-colored knit cap, and his hazel eyes looked almost blue beneath it.

  “I don’t love winter. But nature is nice. I’ll give you that.” He lowered his face and kissed her, a cold-lipped kiss no less delicious than any other before it. “You’re nice.” He opened the front door for her and they walked in. The inside of the cottage was nearly as cold as it was outside.

  “Oh my frostbite!” She clutched her arms around her waist. Because it was glacial in here.

  “I know. Fire first. Electric is out.”

  “What?” Great. Rustic was right.

  “I’m going to start up the generator, but it’ll take a while to heat the water. Might be able to get a warm shower tomorrow. Go to the loft, pull out all the blankets you can find, and pile them on the couch. We’ll sleep in front of the fire.”

  She turned her head and saw the loft, wooden railings, stairs, primitive but meant to look that way. It was a nice place, if freezing. “Okay. The groceries?”

  “I’ll get ’em.”

  An hour later, Faith wouldn’t say she was warm, but they were a lot closer to getting there. A monster-sized brown couch sat in front of the fireplace—Connor had shoved it there rather than leave it against the wall. He’d built a fire and started the generator while she put the food in the now-running refrigerator.

  The bags they’d packed were also in the living room, and thankfully, the bathroom was in working order, even if the water coming out was icy and the toilet seat made her yip when she’d sat on its frigid surface earlier.

  She was plating some cheese, turkey, crackers, and grapes for dinner when he slipped behind her in the kitchen. He was still in his coat. So was she.

  “Will it ever get warm in here?” she asked through chattering teeth.

  “I’ll keep you warm, Cupcake.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her back against his body. He was warm, in spite of being outside more than he was in. “Wine.”

  “Um…” Her eyes went to the unopened bottles. She wasn’t willing to drink alcohol until she found out for sure if there was a baby in her uterus.

  Before she could think of how to put that delicately, Connor said, “Go find out and then either we will share that bottle or crack open the orange juice instead.”

  She tried to smile, honest to God. But a smile wouldn’t come. He turned her to face him and she went, needing his strength, needing his comfort. Some independent woman she’d turned out to be.

  His palms tipped her face and he pressed a sweet kiss on the center of her lips. “Go.”

  “What if—”

  “We’ll deal with ‘what if’ when you find out.” He tipped his head in the direction of the lavatory. “Go.”

  Snatching up the plastic bag holding the two tests, she thought maybe he was right. Better sooner than later. Better to know than not know.

  Before she got out of the kitchen, he snagged her hand. She saw a plethora of emotions on his handsome face—worry, she thought. Maybe concern. Maybe hope. They matched her feelings so well, she almost didn’t want to acknowledge them.

  He squeezed her fingers with his, then let go.

  She went to the bathroom, tests in hand, courage teetering on the brink, and shut the door with a soft snick.

  * * *

  He had no idea how long these things took, and purposefully didn’t look at the time on his phone when Faith went into the bathroom with two pregnancy tests that may or may not change their lives fore
ver.

  Instead, he stoked the fire, added a few more logs, and arranged the pile of quilts on the couch. The cottage was drafty. Yes, the generator was on, but the furnace wasn’t an option. He’d had issues with it before and wasn’t wasting good energy trying to fix it now. HVAC never was his thing. They’d have to make do with sleeping on the couch in front of the flames this weekend.

  Of all the things he’d readied in here, insulation hadn’t been top priority. Still, it was better than being trapped in traffic or having to hole up in a store on Endless Avenue for the night. They’d gotten several more inches of snow since he’d dug his way to the front door of this cottage.

  Not exactly how he’d planned on spending his Christmas Eve. Last year, he’d spent it with a bottle of whiskey and Jonas. Then Christmas with the fam the next day. It’d been fine, but he’d had a hell of a hangover. Still, was always fun to see his nephews open their presents. He’d finally gotten around to getting a signed book from Evan and Asher. That gift went to Drew, the reader. Corran was the builder. Worked with his hands best.

  When Dixie had her kids, Connor had been overjoyed. He loved those boys. Loved his sisters. Tad was okay. Not a bad guy, but not exactly up his alleyway. Aware he was occupying his mind with anything but Faith, he stood from the couch and paced to the kitchen. Maybe he’d open that wine anyway. Have a glass or three while he waited.

  Halfway across the room, the bathroom door opened. He froze, watching the gap grow wider. Then she looked up, her eyes red and leaking tears. Without hesitation, he rushed to her. A moment later, he was holding her against him, her cheeks wetting his neck as her fingers clawed into his shirt. She wasn’t sobbing, but she was definitely having trouble pulling it together.

  “Let’s sit down, sweetness,” he said against her hair. He stroked it over her shoulder and started to pull her in the direction of the fire. She didn’t move, pulling his hand until he was standing in front of her. Eye to eye with those beautiful blues.

  “Negative,” she whispered. She gave him a watery smile. “I don’t know why I’m crying. I thought I’d be relieved.”