For My Own: A Contemporary Christmas Anthology

by Alison Packard, Shari Mikels, Kinley Baker

  Obviously she was hallucinating and needed to change the topic. Sports was always a good choice. “What about TV? Is there anything good on?”

  “The dish is out due to the storm.”

  Of course it was. She was still happily dreaming, something that hadn’t happened in a long time. Most of her dreams were filled with longing or hurt or betrayal. She liked this one.

  She shifted positions on the couch so she was sitting more upright and in the process caught sight of what he’d been doing while she was sleeping.

  “You put a Christmas tree up! It’s beautiful.” She took in the twinkling lights and the collection of ornaments he’d bought over the years combined with the ones his mom had passed along to him. Turning a little farther, she saw he’d started hanging some garland with lights around some of the windows. “You were incredibly busy while I was napping.” She swallowed around the lump that’d formed in her throat. Had he done all that for her? “Thank you for putting up the decorations.”

  “Thanks for pushing me.”

  Guilt hit her hard and she ducked her head. “I’m sorry I was so pushy about...well, everything earlier.”

  “You were right to push. I needed to hear it.”

  Words she’d hoped to hear but didn’t think she would. When she looked up, he was looking at her. Like, really looking at her. Rachel wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but there was a powerful emotion behind the look. Once he looked away, she sucked in her air, trying to get her lungs to function again. Yep, definitely still dreaming, and she’d file away all her dream memories to reflect back on later. She wanted to grab what she could now.

  Kevin pulled a notepad out from a little nook in the end table. “You up for a game of cards?”

  The switch to a more familiar topic had her head reeling. Okay, so they were moving on. “What would you like to play?”

  He hesitated just enough that she wondered what he was thinking. “I think I’m still ahead in overall points for poker, so—”

  “Oh, no you don’t. I pulled ahead last time.” The man was nuts.

  “You’re delusional.” He shook his head, having the nerve to look at her like she was the crazy one.

  “You and Tim were hungover from some kind of drinking fest back at the beginning of February. I racked up so many points, I almost felt sorry for you two. Almost.”

  “You’re lying. We haven’t played poker since this past New Year’s.”

  Ha! She’d show him. “I knew you’d try to pull this crap. I made you send me an email. I just need my phone so I can pull it up. I’ve got it flagged for just this situation.” She’d never been so happy to have proof of one of their game sessions.

  “Fine. Fine. If you’re going to get all touchy about it—”

  “Touchy? Excuse me? You’d better take that back.”

  He held up his hands in surrender. “Instead of points, let’s do things a little differently.”

  That didn’t sound good. She looked at him warily. “Different how?”

  “The winner of the hand gets to ask the loser a question and the loser has to answer truthfully.”

  Maybe she wasn’t dreaming. She pinched herself.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to figure out whether I’m awake or not.”

  “You’re definitely awake. If you can try to use emails sent under drunken conditions against me, you’re awake.”

  “Eh, maybe.” Kevin’s face had a lightness to it she hadn’t seen earlier. She didn’t know what to make of it. “So...you want to do truth-or-dare poker with just the truth part?”

  He thought about it for a few seconds. “Yeah, I guess so. But I want to add one more condition.”

  She just bet he did. “Uh-huh. And what’s that?”

  “The questions can only be answered with a yes or no.”

  Not what she was expecting. “Seriously? Just yes or no?”

  “Yep. No additional information.”

  That shouldn’t be too bad. She wouldn’t have to admit to too much unless he was a very good guesser, enough so to phrase questions correctly.

  “Sure, why not.”

  He looked at her, his head tilted to the side. “We can? No arguments?”

  “None.”

  “Do you want to draw any lines on what can and can’t be asked?”

  She took her time considering the rules he’d laid out. How bad could it get? It wasn’t like anything could happen between them, no matter how much he was looking at her with...that look. She could do this, answer with yes or no. Nothing more.

  “Nope, I’ll deal with whatever.”

  “Okay then.” He went into the kitchen and came back with a deck of cards. “Do you want to deal first?”

  “You never let me deal first.”

  “You got injured on my front steps, I can let you deal first for once.”

  “This kind of behavior isn’t going to convince me that I’m not dreaming.”

  “You’re not dreaming. I’m being nice to you. Get over it.”

  That did it. “Cool. Hand me the cards.”

  She finished shuffling and dealing the cards, and looked at the hand she’d dealt herself. She had crap for cards.

  “How many cards do you want?”

  The smirk on his face said it all. “One.”

  “Dammit. No.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  She grudgingly handed him one card and took three for herself.

  “I’m ready to call,” he said with a smug look on his face.

  Their competitiveness was alive and well. “That’s because you haven’t got any sense of self-preservation.”

  “Maybe.”

  Ugh. She was going to have to concede this hand and let him ask the first question. “Fine. I have a pair.”

  He laid down his cards. “And I have two pair.”

  “Whatever. What’s the first question?”

  “Have there been other times when you’ve spied on your brother and me?” No hesitation on his part. She wondered how long he’d been wondering about that.

  “Hmmm...yes.” It was her turn to smirk. He’d set the rules, he’d have to live with no extra information.

  Giving a quick nod, he accepted her cards, brushing her fingers with his. Her hand tingled from the touch. The electricity between them was lessening, going from shocking to a pleasant buzz. She could handle a pleasant buzz, something that was there at all times, but in the background, allowing her to still function.

  Was this what true love felt like? ’Cause if so, she was doomed.

  * * *

  Kevin vaguely recalled Rachel winning a ton of points the last time they got together to play poker, but he hadn’t wanted to play for points anyway. He wanted to talk to her about her marriage and what she thought about him, if she had feelings for him. He wanted the truth, and truth-or-dare poker without the dare part was perfect for getting the information he sought.

  What he hadn’t been prepared for was all the little things that went with spending time with her. Just her. The looks they shared when their eyes held a second too long, the electricity from touches that should’ve been familiar after plenty of pretend arm wrestling matches but were now different.

  He had always enjoyed watching her face flush and her eyes narrow when she lost a hand. But now he experienced strange feelings of pleasure—not when he won against her—but instead when he watched her face light up after each hand she won.

  They played for an hour with each of them winning hands, going back and forth with the questions. It was an interesting way to get to know each other on a different level, as well as a challenge trying to figure out how to word the questions in just the right way.

  But he was ready to dig for more. The questions had stayed light so far, nothing too deeply personal, nothing about relationships. Except that was what he really wanted to get to. Whatever broke Rachel and David up wasn’t discussed at all. Ever. Tim refused to tell him, always saying it wasn’t his place a
nd it wasn’t his story.

  Kevin could see that. He understood. But if he was going to have a chance with the one woman he’d been falling for, he had to know what happened so he’d never repeat those mistakes. If he got a chance with Rachel, he didn’t want to lose her, especially for something stupid. That was the one lesson he’d learned from his teammates and their wives—husbands screwed up all the time, but they needed to learn lessons from each screw up and not repeat them.

  On his next winning hand, he asked, “Have you told me everything about your breakup?”

  She stared back at him, her eyes narrowing as she did. “No.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  Why had he made up the stupid rule about no additional information? That was the fourth time a smug look had crossed her face—not that he was keeping track—after only having to give him the one-word answer that was required. He’d just have to keep at it.

  “Next time we’re playing high-low,” he grumbled.

  “Why?”

  “Because each hand would take less time.”

  She won the next hand. Of course.

  “Are you looking for a job just to keep yourself busy doing something?”

  He easily answered, “Yes.”

  She, again, won the next hand. He mentally kicked himself.

  “Are you dating anyone?”

  Why would she think that? His answer came quickly. “No.”

  She blew out the breath she must’ve been holding, because her shoulders sagged afterward.

  He won the next hand and decided to ask her the same thing.

  “Are you dating anyone?”

  “No.” She shook her head vehemently and relief flooded him. One less obstacle for him to have to overcome.

  She won the next hand, and his instincts told him he was in trouble. She viewed him with a shrewd look on her face, eyes intent on his face, daring him to lie to her. He hadn’t, wouldn’t.

  “Is it true you slept with a different woman after practically every game?”

  Wow. When she went for it, she threw down the gauntlet and went straight for the throat. He didn’t want to answer this, not without providing some kind of clarification. She needed the truth from him, just like he did from her. Determination coursed through him. He’d come up with the rules, he could damn well break them.

  Looking her straight in the eyes, he replied, “No, not after every game. And none since your divorce.”

  Her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open. Silence fell between them for several seconds, until her stomach made itself known with a growl. She quickly shut her mouth and held her hand over her abdomen. “I think I’m hungry.”

  The mood broken for the time being, he let the subject drop, giving her a chance to process his statement. “I bet so. You missed supper. How does a grilled cheese sandwich and some soup sound?”

  “Wonderful.”

  Letting her process the information was one thing. Personally, he didn’t want to dwell too long on what his admission meant. If he did, his thoughts would make him crazy. Did he need to say more? Was the ball really in her court now or would she expect more from him? Crazy-making stuff right there.

  Having to gather up food and fix it for her provided him with the perfect distraction.

  He hoped.

  Chapter Six

  The snow let up during her late supper and stopped completely soon after. Hot tomato soup served with the perfect grilled cheese sandwich helped put Rachel in a stupor. It wasn’t just the food. It was everything. The Christmas lights blinking on the tree, the fire in the fireplace, the pristine snow covering the ground right outside the picture window. Her belly was full and her brain was in shock.

  Damn. She’d known about the rumors of how many women he’d slept with over the years. It was one of the main reasons he was off-limits to her. But had he really not been with anyone since her divorce? Why? Why would he do that? And how could he drop that bomb on her? He totally broke his own huge rule for the game. Yes or no. That was supposed to be it. No extra information telling her anything, blasting emotional C-4 into her life.

  “Hey, we got about two inches, but there’s a layer of ice underneath from the sleet and freezing rain. You’re not going anywhere tonight, so want to see if satellite reception is back?”

  Rachel rolled her head to the side, watching Kevin make his way back inside with some more wood for the fire. He was babying his right arm more than he had earlier. What did he say? Oh, she wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Rach? You okay? You’re looking a little out of it there.”

  Maybe it was the painkillers she’d taken at supper that were making her head a little fuzzy. She rarely took them. Not like some people who’d gotten their elbow shattered by a return hit.

  “Is your arm okay?”

  He dropped the wood into the grate by the fireplace, tossed his coat on the corner of the hearth and toed off his work shoes. “It’s fine. Hurts more at night.” Dropping down into a catcher’s squat and staring into the fire, he added, “And in the cold.”

  The flames created interesting shadows across his face, bringing out lines that didn’t used to exist.

  “I’m sorry.”

  His left shoulder shrugged up in acknowledgement.

  The silence that fell wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable, but a tension existed that she couldn’t figure out how to break. Until she saw the remote.

  “Weren’t you going to check to see if the dish was back on?”

  He shook his head, as if clearing his thoughts, and stood.

  “Yep. There should be several basketball games on if we can get them.”

  As if by magic, the huge screen filled with guys dribbling, passing and shooting, and the noise from the crowd mixed with court shoes squeaking.

  Listening to the familiar sounds, she closed her eyes to rest them for a second.

  * * *

  Kevin had never watched a woman sleep before, as long as you didn’t count his mom falling asleep in the chair in front of the TV each night. Watching Rachel sleep confirmed his decision to go for it with her. Her tranquility gave him a sense of peace, and lately that hadn’t existed for him.

  He clicked off the game, not wanting to get sucked into another two hours of TV. He needed a decent night’s sleep to ensure having a clear head for the conversation the two of them needed to have tomorrow. He still had questions he needed answered and his curiosity on what she was thinking was trying to kill him.

  “Can you wrap your arms around my neck?”

  Her lids fluttered some before she managed to get them halfway open. “I’m not going to sleep. I’m just resting for a little bit.”

  The chuckle came naturally. “Sweetheart, you closed your eyes over an hour ago and have been softly snoring since then.”

  That got her. Her eyes popped open. “If I keep this up, I’ll never get back on a normal sleep schedule.” She shifted to sitting. “And I don’t snore. Softly or otherwise. I’m certain I would’ve been told this before.”

  “Maybe snore is too strong a word.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Now loop your arms around my neck and I’ll get you upstairs.”

  “No.” She shook her head and her hair swished about her face. “You’re not doing that to your arm. Besides, my ankle feels much better.”

  “You need to keep it that way and not try to use it too much too soon.”

  Moving her foot around some, she graced him with one of her sunshine smiles. “Wow, it feels tons better. That was some wrapping job you did there. Thank you.”

  She was the most beautiful woman in the world right then. Even with her hair tangled and a mess around her face, dressed in his oversized clothes, her smile lit up his world.

  “Do you want to stay down here in my bedroom and I’ll take one of the upstairs rooms so you don’t need to maneuver up and down steps?”

  What the hell was he thinking? He needed to install a filter between his brai
n and his mouth so he could really think things through before saying or offering them. Rachel in his bed? He was already going to have trouble getting rid of the image of her in his tub. He’d never sleep again with that picture in his mind.

  Panic overtook her expression and a blush spread across her cheeks and down her neck. At least he thought it was panic. Maybe it was horror.

  “I could never kick you out of your bed...room. Bedroom. I’ll be fine. You have a handrail I can use so I won’t have any problems.”

  “I can at least help you get up there and make sure you have everything you need.”

  Definitely panic this time. What was her previous look? He wasn’t very good with the looks women gave him. He knew a few, such as the look and I want to sleep with you. Other than that? Striking out.

  “You don’t need to.”

  “Of course I do. Come on.” He wrapped his arm around her back to her waist. Ignoring the soft curves. For now.

  “You are not carrying me up those steps. If you insist on helping me, you can support me. Enough with the carrying today. Got it?”

  He did his best to hide his smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Keeping hold of her, he let her use her left foot and ankle as much as she wanted. Either she was faking how little pain she was dealing with, or it really had gotten much better. A twisted ankle was a lot easier to deal with than a sprain.

  He got her to the doorway of his guest bedroom and told himself to let her go. He just wasn’t listening very well. Letting her go only when she made a move to break from his grasp, he followed her in farther and stood by the dresser.

  “Oh my God, my hair’s a tangled mess. Why didn’t you tell me I looked like something out of The Exorcist?”

  There was no way he’d win any points by answering that question.

  “I’ve got towels stacked in the bathroom in there. Do you think you’ll need an extra quilt? I’ve got a blanket and quilt on there.”

  She glared at him. “Why are you ignoring my question?”

  Looking her straight in the eye, he answered, “I’ve learned a lot of things from my mama, and one of those is answering that kind of question. Yes, your hair is a tangled mess, but you certainly don’t look like something out of The Exorcist.” Time for more truth. “And honestly, I wasn’t noticing your hair when I was too busy looking at your face and the beautiful smile you had on it.”