Christmas With You

by Tracey Alvarez

  Kip slanted a glance at Carly, her sudden withdrawal at the Brailsford’s still apparent in her folded arms and faraway gaze as she stared out the passenger side window. She’d shared the twin’s excitement at choosing a tree, joked with Ben and Kezia when they’d arrived with an exuberant Zoe and Jade, and even teased Kip with a sly smile about compensation issues while carrying the seven-foot-tall pine back to the ute. Yet, the whole time, her gaze remained cool and detached. While his father’s label stung, Carly suddenly constructing a wall around herself felt like an unbearable itch between his shoulder blades.

  “You okay?” he said quietly, as his father headed toward the vehicle.

  Her hair whispered over her shirt as she turned to face him. “I’m fine.”

  “The two most loaded words in a woman’s vocabulary.” An auburn strand caught on the headrest, and he eased it off before it snagged in her seatbelt. A convenient excuse to touch her. “Are you I wanna kick you in the nuts again fine, or I don’t wanna discuss this fine?”

  “I haven’t decided.” She opened the door and climbed out. “I should get going, anyway.”

  His father appeared behind her. “Not so fast. Heather and the girls are expecting you inside.”

  Carly shot a glance at Kip. “Really, I should be—”

  “They’re arguing about oven temperatures and where the best place is to stick a turkey thermometer.” James gave an exaggerated shudder. “Please, honey, help a man out.”

  “All right, a quick visit.” With one more long, indecipherable stare in Kip’s direction, she walked away.

  Kip climbed out of the cab and opened the back door to release Logan from his booster seat. “Laying it on a bit thick to get her to stay, weren’t you?”

  His father opened the opposite door and smirked. “Worked better than whatever you were saying, hotshot.”

  “Yeah yeah.”

  They unbuckled the twins and hauled them out, then watched them run whooping into the house. His father eyeballed him over the ute’s roof.

  “Girls this far south must be too hot for you to handle.”

  Kip snorted out a laugh and slammed the back door. “This the lead-in for you telling me about all the eligible women back in Bounty Bay, Dad?”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it, son.” James ambled around to the rear of the vehicle and unhooked the bungee-cord keeping the tree in place. “Though my informants tell me Becca broke it off with her latest man.”

  “That ship sailed a long time ago.” Kip moved to the flatbed and grabbed a needle-covered branch. “How about we get this damn tree inside, so Mum can talk Carly into helping decorate it?”

  His father’s blue eyes crinkled over the spiky green needles. “Butt the hell outta my business, Dad?”

  Kip found a wry smile and applied it, dragging the trunk toward him. “Got it in one.”

  Thirty minutes later, Kip slumped onto the couch and watched Carly lift up Lucas so he could hang a golden bauble on the tree. Mission two, underway. And unless she was a better actress than he’d credited, Carly appeared to be enjoying herself.

  Lowering the boy to his feet, she glanced over. A jolt fired into his gut as her gaze connected with his, like one of the strung lights had zapped him. She stepped over a tangle of silver and gold tinsel, crossing the room to sit beside him.

  Curling her legs under her, Carly propped her elbow on the couch back, her blouse gaping to display the rise of her left breast, a sliver of white lace contrasting against a light smattering of freckles. “How does it look?”

  So delicious, so tempting, he wouldn’t be able to resist a taste for much longer. But she probably meant the decorations. Kip swiped a palm down his thigh and wrenched his gaze away from her chest.

  He nodded at the tree, as if he hadn’t been daydreaming about counting the freckles covering her breasts…with his tongue. “Ah…like someone rapid-fired mini disco balls at it from an automatic launcher then wrapped twenty feet of tinsel around it in an asphyxiation attempt.”

  She laughed, and her hair slipped over her shoulder, dangling into her cleavage. Lucky, lucky hair. God, he was so screwed if he ended up with a hard-on with his sisters around.

  “I know what you’re doing, Kip.” Her voice was pitched low, husky and intimate.

  He leaned forward to brace his elbows on his knees, hoping to look like a guy studying the aesthetics of his family’s tree-decorating skills. As opposed to a guy reduced to the awkward teen he’d once been; his tongue thick and uncooperative in the presence of the prettiest girl in school.

  “What am I doing?”

  He knew what he’d like to be doing. It had little to do with fixing up the sparkly horror show in front of them.

  “You’re mentally rearranging the ornaments,” she said. “I saw your eye twitching when Logan put three red balls on the same branch.”

  “How could anyone think it looks balanced?”

  “He’s five, Kip.”

  “He’s also the kid who lines his matchbox cars up in a row and cracks a fit if one gets pushed slightly out of line.”

  “Maybe a little of your own OCD tendencies kicking in there?”

  “If you’re gonna do something, do it right.”

  Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and a pretty flush spread through the smattering of freckles on her cheeks. Guess some of his do her up against the wall six ways from Sunday thoughts had transposed through his words.

  “Right, meaning everything balanced and even and picture perfect?”

  “If we’re still talking about Christmas trees, then yeah. If I’m gonna have a big-ass pot plant in my house, I at least don’t want to have to wear sunglasses whenever I’m in the same room.”

  He shifted closer to her on the couch, keeping a wary eye on Tara, who he could see behind Carly, puttering around in the kitchen. She and Grace were on lunch duty, and both pretended not to watch he and Carly’s little chat. Tara wriggled her eyebrows in a silent question, so Kip replied in the expected little-brother way of a one finger salute.

  “If we’re not talking about Christmas…” He lowered his voice farther. “I like things a little off balance and uneven. I like you off balance.”

  “Are you hoping I’ll fall off a ladder onto you again?” Her lips twitched into a small smile.

  “Onto me, onto a bed…I’m not fussy.”

  Carly’s eyes sparked brighter than the multi-colored strands of tinsel strangling the tree. “You want to sleep with me.”

  Her tone implied that was all he wanted.

  While a few months ago if he’d found a women he was attracted to, he could’ve honestly said, “Yep.” He would’ve wanted sleep with her, and maybe even do the whole dating thing. The problem was, he wasn’t just attracted to Carly; he cared about her. Too damn much. She’d burrowed inside him and taken hold in a way he’d never experienced. Not something he wanted to get into with his family around.

  “Yeah, I do. I’m very…attracted to you.” What a coward—couldn’t even admit his real feelings.

  She huffed out a sigh, but the flush high on her cheekbones didn’t disappear. “Well, you’re honest, at least.”

  “I’m an honest guy.” Honest, but about to start clucking and sprout frickin’ feathers.

  The tip of her tongue swiped along her lower lip, and she cocked her head. “I haven’t decided whether we should act on this attraction.”

  Personally, the only way he could think of not acting on it required bundling her up and mailing her Fast-post to the North Pole.

  “Is it easier to make a decision now we’re not rolling around in wrapping paper?”

  “Yes.” Carly pressed her lips together and took a deep breath in through her nose. “It’s much easier being rational and sensible when you’re not touching me.”

  “Not touching you is hard work, and being rational and sensible this time of year is overrated.” He busted out his best beguiling smile.

  She laughed. “The Grinch using Christmas as an excuse
for a booty call?”

  Kip wanted to kiss her until she was breathless—or until she realized what was between them ran deeper than any booty call. But a glance over her shoulder to Tara and Grace, both of whom had given up making sandwiches and now strained to hear his conversation with Carly, convinced him he’d have to wait. He stood and glared into the kitchen. His sister gave him a friendly little finger wave.

  Kip inclined his head in case, by some freak chance, his sister could lip read. “Neither of us needs to puzzle about this until our puzzlers are sore. It’s pretty simple. I want you, you want me. We could both benefit from a little goodwill.”

  Carly’s lips twisted into a Mona-Lisa smile. She rubbed the collar of her shirt, drawing his attention down to paradise. “Ho-ho-ho, pretty-boy. Let’s see how much goodwill I feel toward you later.”

  Kip walked over to the sparkly monstrosity and removed two of the red baubles and re-hung them on separate branches.

  If you’re gonna do something, do it right.

  And hell, he wanted to do Carly Gatlin right more than ever.

  Chapter 6

  Dudley was turning out to be a giant pain in the ass. If the Shetland pony wasn’t the star attraction as “Rudolph” at the Christmas party, Kip would’ve suggested to Del and Shaye that they make Dudley an addition to Due South’s menu.

  West held the pony’s lead rope at the bottom of the hill below Shaye’s house, while he and Kip waited for Santa’s little helper, a.k.a Carly, to arrive. Dudley, once again, decided the voluminous Santa suit hid more carrots, and he shoved his muzzle into Kip’s groin.

  Kip jerked his hips to the side before Dudley’s teeth latched on to something that wasn’t a carrot. “Quit it, you crazy horse.”

  “Think he likes you, mate.” West patted the pony’s brown-and-white splotched back. “Maybe you’ll get lucky.”

  “Piss off, Westlake.” He moved a safe distance away and readjusted his Santa-pants—or giant red bloomers, as Piper had called them when she’d helped him suit up while West collected Dudley from his owner. The pants kept slipping down in an alarming way, the pillow stuffed inside them making a belt all but useless.

  West grinned and tugged Dudley’s rope, pulling his head away from the temptation of Kip’s crotch. “There’s Carly—holy shit!”

  Kip spun around. Holy shit didn’t do her justice. Slow-mo action would kick in at any moment, accompanied by some cheesy eighties soundtrack. Probably Foreigner’s Waiting for a Girl Like You.

  Her green velvet dress was trimmed with white fake fur and showed a hint of cleavage on one end, and at the other, the material stopped mid-thigh. Green-and-white-striped, above-the-knee socks finished a few inches below the dress, giving a dick-hardening view of her long legs. Carly’s stunning red hair was braided into two plaits, and a green Santa hat topped her head.

  Hottest. Frickin’. Elf. Ever.

  He wanted to kiss his mother for her sewing skills, and then throttle her for setting up Carly to look so fucking gorgeous that the next hour would be absolute torture.

  Thank God for his hide-all, giant red bloomers.

  “Hey,” Kip said, as she stopped alongside them, slitting her eyes at Dudley.

  Someone should award him a medal for sounding so offhand, instead of wheezy with the lust pummeling his insides.

  He straightened his shoulders and sucked in his gut—hah! Like that helped with the pillow tied on under the suit. “You look…nice. Um, elfish.”

  Yep. His brain cells had sunk to an area of his body that didn’t help his vocabulary skills.

  “Thanks.” Carly’s glance flicked between Kip, West, and Dudley. “What the hell is that?”

  West snickered. “That’s my bartender dressed as Old Saint Nick with his tongue hanging—”

  Kip aborted his ex-mate’s humor by punching West’s shoulder and sending him a murderous glower from above his fake beard.

  Carly rolled her eyes, but a smile curved her lips. “I meant the pony. Why have you put him in felt reindeer antlers?”

  “The pony’s Dudley, the lesser-known of Santa’s reindeer team, city girl.” West jiggled the rope. Dudley ignored him, continuing to crop grass from the roadside. “Kip thought he’d be a cute reindeer stand-in, and he can give the kids a ride around the community hall’s yard.”

  “Riiiight.” Carly gave the animal a wide, suspicious berth. “Cute idea, Kip. Can we go now?”

  She moved out of nibble range and turned in the direction of Due South, her flippy green skirt swirling around her legs. “I’ll lead the way; you keep control of your reindeer.”

  Kip trailed after her, making a valiant effort to prevent his gaze from leaving heat trails all over her. West whistled, and Dudley clopped along with them.

  Nearly to their destination, West shoulder checked Kip and said with quiet menace, “Seriously. Stop staring at my sister’s butt.”

  Hard to look bad-ass while wearing a fake beard and a jolly red suit, Kip nonetheless gave it a go. “So she’s your sister now that I’m looking at her butt?”

  West grunted and jerked Dudley’s rope, resulting in an indignant snort from the pony. “Carly has a way of getting to you—insidious like. It’s kinda hard not to like her.”

  “I know.”

  Another narrowed glance from West. “But I don’t know how I feel about you liking her.”

  “Horse has already bolted from that barn, man. I like her a lot.”

  “Shit.” West scraped a hand through his hair.

  “Now you’ll tell me how her brothers will beat the snot outta me if her heart gets broken?”

  “Yeah, but if it’s any consolation, Del and I won’t enjoy doing it.”

  Kip raised a hand to Ben, who hovered by the community hall steps as a lookout. “Good to know.”

  “Well, regardless. I don’t wanna hear of any kinky games going on between Santa and his elf.”

  Carly waited for them both to catch up, and West shoved Dudley’s rope into Kip’s hands.

  “I’m heading ‘round back to help Ben and the other parents corral the kids by the Santa chair,” West said. “Piper’s standing by to wave you forward when we’re ready.”

  He disappeared around the side of the building, and Carly shot Kip an indecipherable glance from beneath her lashes. A warm, salty breeze blew inland off the ocean, ruffling up Carly’s skirt to reveal a glimpse of black lace.

  Holy shit-balls.

  Kip swiped a sweaty palm down his pants and flicked his gaze to a spot over her shoulder. “Hope Lucas and Logan don’t recognize me. They were busting a gut with excitement this morning, Lizzie said.”

  “With the fake beard and dark sunglasses, you’ll be fine. Just say ‘ho ho ho’ every now and then, and try not to promise any puppies or ponies.”

  “Got it. No puppies. No ponies. Ho a lot.”

  Her smile transfigured her from pretty elf into stunning sexpot. “Don’t ho around too much.” She patted his puffy pillow stomach. “Though, I expect you’ll have women queuing up to sit on your knee, wanting to know what’s under all the padding.”

  “I’m glad I didn’t go commando, then,” he teased. “These damn pants aren’t stable.”

  Her eyebrows shot up, then lowered into a hooded stare. “I’ll remember that, sexy Santa.”

  Before he could put his size eleven, black gumboot in his mouth by inviting her to find out what he wore under his stifling suit, Piper popped out of the hall, waving her arms.

  “Looks like it’s showtime, Dudley.” Carly turned away.

  Showtime for Kip too, although God only knew how he’d get through talking to dozens of excited kids, avoiding the teeth of a hungry pony, and handing out presents, when all he could think about was his sexpot elf.

  ***

  Carly led the last small child away from Santa-Kip and to her mother, who snapped photos with her phone. As the little girl clutched her mother’s leg, the woman murmured in Carly’s ear. “That’s a fine looking Santa Claus
you’ve got. Do you know if there’s a Mrs. Claus?”

  Carly kept her face in neutral, even after spotting a wedding ring on the woman’s finger.

  “Actually,” she whispered. “He has a Mr. Claus at home in the North Pole, if you know what I mean.”

  “Damn.” The woman huffed out a sigh and scooped up her daughter. “Always the way with the really hot ones.”

  Carly shrugged and turned to Kip, who was watching her with an un-Santa-like expression of carnal heat. With most of the kids now inside, feasting on Christmas treats, the small fenced-in yard behind the community hall had emptied out. Honorary Rudolph, a.k.a Dudley, was munching grass, his rope tied around Santa’s chair.

  “What did she say to you?” Kip asked quietly as Carly came to stand beside him.

  Since the woman in question still hovered in the doorway, sneaking glances at them, Carly bent close to his ear. “She wondered if you had a Mrs. Claus.”

  The fake beard shifted as he smiled broadly. “Whatever you told her, she’s looking at me kinda oddly now.”

  The scratchy curls tickled as she leaned even closer. “I may’ve mentioned a Mr. Claus being in the picture.”

  His breath drew in sharply and then huffed out his nose in short bursts. “Carly Gatlin, you are a naughty little elf.”

  She snickered—then something damp, cool, and snuffly shoved between her legs. Carly squeaked and toppled forward, sprawling across Kip’s lap, her blood stampeding around her body. Horsey snorts and thuds sounded behind her. A warm hand smoothed down her back and over her ass, pulling her dress into place. She squirmed, and not only because she could still feel Dudley’s muzzle on her upper thighs.

  Sparkly ballet-flats digging into the ground, Carly hauled herself off Kip—only to have his strong arms wrap around her and drag her sideways onto his lap.

  “You okay?” Blue eyes, dark with concern, scanned her face. “Did the bastard bite you?”