Not willing to let her out of his sight—since she was the reason he’d come—he fell into step behind her when she turned. “I’ll give you a hand.”
She didn’t exactly have a natural way with kids. As she lined up the excited kids, she was adorably awkward. One of the little kids toddled forward and lost her balance, and Aubrey swooped down to catch her before she hit the pavement. The expression on Aubrey’s face when she found herself with an armload of toddler in a fluffy dress was priceless. He couldn’t tell who was more astonished, Aubrey or the kid. But Aubrey gathered herself and put the kid down, straightening her skirt.
But the door had opened and she was suddenly swarmed by children who encircled her, some with their arms around her, some with their arms lifted, hoping for a ride. She looked over their heads at him, her arms spread helplessly. He stepped forward and cleared a path, herding the little ones back into line.
“How did you get so good with kids?” she asked when Santa finally arrived, drawing the kids’ attention.
“Sonia has two boys. They like to come visit and ride the horses.” He put his hand on the small of her back to guide her toward the buffet table.
“Are you going to go to her place for Christmas?”
He shook his head. “She’s going to her husband’s family in California.”
“So you’re on your own.”
“Not the first time. You’ve missed Christmas before.”
“Because I was on a case, or sleeping after one.”
“So see, not that big a deal. The year goes on.”
But she’d sobered and averted her gaze. Something was going on in her head.
She looked around, rising on her toes to search for Hailey. “Well, let’s get in line before Hailey sees us and finds something else for me to do. I’d forgotten how detail oriented she is.”
The tables in the square were occupied, especially the ones closest to the heaters. Aubrey and Erich couldn’t find two chairs together, so they sat on the curb at the edge of the party. He winced when his butt touched the cold concrete, but she didn’t seem to notice the chill, just started digging into her barbecue dinner.
Her skirt rode up a bit, revealing tights above her boots, and he wanted to reach over and smooth his hand over the silky fabric, the warm skin underneath.
“I don’t remember it ever being this cold for the winter festival,” she said between mouthfuls. “I remember one time I wore a sleeveless dress.”
“I remember that,” he said. “It was red.”
“Maroon,” she corrected. “I was dating Henry Colson at the time and he was an Aggie.” She lifted suddenly curious eyes to him. “You remember what I wore? We hadn’t—we hadn’t been involved at that point.”
“No, you were seventeen.” He stroked his knuckles down her face. “I shouldn’t have been looking, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you. You were underage and the boss’s daughter, and the prettiest girl I’d ever seen.”
Her lips fell open and her pupils darkened. “No one has called me pretty in a long time.”
He brushed his fingertips over her bottom lip. “Because you’re not anymore. You’re stunning.”
She drew back and laughed dismissively. “Jesus, Erich, You’d think you want to get laid or something.”
He looked at her long enough to make her blush, then let his hand fall away. “You’re going to dance with me, aren’t you?”
“You want to dance with me in front of my father?”
He grimaced, his balls shriveling just a bit at the idea of touching her in front of his boss. He didn’t quite trust his hands to behave once they got on her. But he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to get her in his arms on the dance floor.
“There you are.”
Aubrey snapped her knees together. Erich caught her plate before it spilled onto her dress, then they both looked up at her mother, who wore a long cream colored skirt, velvet blouse and cream cowboy hat, the quintessential rancher matron. Someone he could never see Aubrey being, which made his gut clench a little. She’d be walking away soon. Again. Erich rose and held a hand down to Aubrey.
“What do you need?” Aubrey’s tone was brisk as she brushed off her dress.
“Mrs. Olsen wanted to see you. She’s not going to be here long, it’s too cold for her. But she didn’t get by earlier.”
Aubrey murmured an “excuse me” as she brushed by Erich, maybe a little closer than she needed to, leaving him holding her plate.
He watched her mother lead her through the crowd, the two of them visiting with Mrs. Olsen, and then moving to another table, and another. Aubrey was holding up pretty damn well, especially since he knew this wasn’t—had never been—her thing. But she had been trained by her mother to be social. She could be a rancher’s wife, if that’s what she wanted.
But not a regular foreman’s lady. Why did he let himself think that there could be a future? He was happy with his job, with his place in Cascade, but she wouldn’t be. When they were young, it hadn’t mattered. He’d known she wasn’t sticking around. So why couldn’t he remind himself of that now?
The band began to play, and he scanned the crowd, looking for someone who might distract him from his thoughts of Aubrey. He saw a couple of old girlfriends, a couple of women he knew vaguely, a couple of strangers, but none held the appeal of having Aubrey in his arms.
Against his better judgement, he crossed the crowd and held out a hand to her, right in front of her father. The look she gave him was part relief, part question, and she put her hand in his. He tucked her hand against the small of his back as he led the way through the crowd to the area in front of the stage, cleared for a dance floor. While he wanted to plaster her body against his, he didn’t, instead holding her just far enough away to make himself crazy.
Her body was warm underneath the knit dress, and the heat of her skin released her scent, the fruity shampoo and something else, something earthy that was all Aubrey and sexy as hell. His senses worked overtime as he moved with her around the dance floor. He couldn’t remember dancing with her before, just riding and making love in the grass, talking for hours.
For the life of him, he couldn’t think of anything to say now, not while he had his hands on her, feeling the strong line of her back, the bend of her waist as they fell into a rhythm easily. His mind drifted to another rhythm they might find as easily, and he flexed his fingers, just enough to bring her a little closer. Something hard brushed his leg when he turned her, and his gaze bounced to hers.
“Are you carrying?” The idea sent a pulse of heat straight to his groin and he couldn’t say why.
“I’m a cop.”
He raised his eyebrows as a wicked image popped into his head. “Have handcuffs too?”
She drew in a sharp breath, and her eyes darkened in the twinkling lights strung around the square. “Something change in the past few years?”
“The thought never occurred to me until this moment.”
She curved her hand around the back of his neck and twirled her fingers in his hair. He turned her so his back was to her father and he let his hands slide down, just a little, before sliding up again. Her nostrils flared and she eased closer, as he eased back, tilting his head warningly. Jesus, he was destroying himself here, seducing the boss’s daughter in front of the whole town.
The song changed to a slower tempo. His heart thudded as she moved closer. “How much longer do you need to stick around?”
Her eyes widened. “You want to skip out now?”
“Your mom will be looking for you.”
She sighed as his thumbs circled on her back. “You’re probably right.”
He leaned in, just a little. “I’ll wait,” he said, his breath stirring her hair.
Aubrey’s brains were scrambled. She felt as foggy as if she’d had a half dozen drinks, though she hadn’t had anything more than the hot cocoa the local high school was selling, and she knew it hadn’t been spiked, since the teens worked under t
he watchful eye of Mrs. Drogin, who still scared the bejesus out of Aubrey. She couldn’t form thoughts enough to hold a conversation. Her brain kept drifting to the way Erich’s hands felt on her body. He’d done nothing untoward, but her skin tingled, her pulse throbbed, her hormones dancing in anticipation.
Dancing—she had hoped they would do more of that. She felt his gaze on her as she danced with others, with Bobby from Crazy Eights Ranch, with Daryl, one of the deputies, with James, whose family owned the biggest antique store in town. None of them stirred even the slightest feeling that Erich watching her did.
Between dances, she did her mother’s bidding—dealing with the caterers, driving the priest home, something that should have cooled her off. But when she stepped out of the car and saw Erich through the crowd, everything female in her went on alert.
She found her mother having a glass of wine with her friends from the club.
“I’m going to head out,” she said, barely able to form the words. “Can I use your car?”
Her mother looked up in surprise, then rose a bit unsteadily to hug her. “Thank you for all you did today. I’m proud of you.”
Aubrey was unprepared for how those words made her feel, and she hugged her mother a bit longer than the older woman expected, then pulled away and walked toward her mother’s car, dangling the keys, hoping Erich saw.
A few moments later, she pulled in front of his house and waited, her hands shaky on the wheel, her mouth dry. She almost wanted a drink. Almost. But she knew Erich wouldn’t make a move if she did. And she really really needed him to make a move.
She was beginning to wonder if he’d gotten her signal when lights flashed on the road behind her and Erich’s truck pulled up behind her.
Her nerve almost abandoned her as she fumbled with the door handle, but lust overcame it. She got the door open just as he appeared beside her and held out his hand to her.
Without a word, she took it and let him lead her into his house.
His hands were shaking too, as he turned her against the wall, framed her face and kissed her. There was nothing sweet in his kiss—it was hot and hard and melted her bones. Just when she thought she couldn’t get any hotter, he slid his hands down her body to cup her ass, bringing her against him, letting her feel his arousal like he couldn’t on the dance floor.
“This dress has been making me crazy all night,” he said against her mouth, and inched up the dress a little, bunching the fabric in his hands.
Who knew the backs of her thighs were so sensitive, as the hem of her skirt brushed against them? She slid her hands between them and toyed with the opening of his shirt, feeling the thickness of the thermal beneath, and she laughed.
“This would be a good night for strip poker, as many layers as we’re wearing.”
“Or a bad one,” he said with a chuckle, and leaned forward to kiss her again.
Despite his earlier kiss, he didn’t seem too eager to get her out of her clothes. Instead he traced patterns on her thighs through her tights, reached up to cup her breast through the knit of her dress, rubbing his thumb slowly back and forth over her nipple until she moaned.
“Take off your gun,” he said, his lips against her jaw. “I don’t want it accidentally going off.”
She pushed him back a step and lifted her leg, placing her booted foot on a nearby chair so she could unfasten her thigh holster. She watched his face as she did so, his nostrils flared, and thought his eyes would roll back in his head. She straightened, tucking the leather straps around the weapon as she placed it on the entryway table.
“I’m thinking the gun might not be the thing accidentally going off,” she teased, then shrieked as he lunged forward, lifting her over his shoulder and carrying her into the bedroom.
She landed on the bed under the oak tree painting with a bounce, on her back, looking up at him. He levered himself over her, coasting his hand down her hip and up under her dress, over the slick fabric of her tights to find the waistband. Together they worked to peel them, along with her panties, down her legs, and he sat back on his heels, looking at her just long enough to make her fidget.
Then he helped her out of her dress. The stretchy fabric caught beneath her for a moment, but she wriggled out of it and lay beneath him in only a lacy bra. She caught her breath when he leaned over her and kissed her, long and deep, his tongue teasing her lips before sliding past them, echoing the movement of his hips between her legs, the fabric of his jeans rough against her tender skin.
She tugged at the opening of his shirt, then had to tug again when only the top few snaps came open. She struggled to push the fabric off his arms, over the undershirt. Finally, he rose up and stripped off both shirts together, tangling them, and tossed them aside. She giggled when the snaps clinked against the window.
He let her unfasten his belt on her own, then groaned when she sat up and cupped his erection through his jeans. When she got those off of him, she leaned forward to touch her lips to the tip of him.
He pushed her back on the bed and reached into the nightstand drawer. “Maybe another time. Right now I need to be inside you.”
Then he was, so deep, so hot, so familiar, and she arched into him, into the caress of his hand down her body, before he anchored them on her hips, holding them steady as he moved. They found their rhythm, just this side of desperate, rolling and bucking, kissing and touching, holding onto each other as they crested the peak.
4
Aubrey opened her eyes in the shadowed room, and listened for a moment to Erich’s steady breathing. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d fallen asleep in a man’s bed—never with Erich, though she’d had to sneak into her room more than once after being with him.
As much as she hated leaving the warmth of his bed, she was going to have to.
“Where you going?” he murmured when she sat up.
“I need to get home.”
He sat up an wrapped his arm around her bare waist, kissing her shoulder. Damn, he felt good, strong and hard behind her, his skin warm.
“Not yet. Stay.”
She wanted to. “I need to get back. I haven’t climbed back into my bedroom in a long time.”
He blew out a breath and released her, dropping back to the bed. “I can see it would be hard to explain.”
“I’m not worried for me.” She swung her feet over the edge of the bed and wished the temperature was warm enough that she could skip the tights. Instead, she grabbed them, turned them inside out and stuck her foot inside one leg. She felt the fabric snag and tear but didn’t care, smoothed it up the rest of the way. She rose, feeling decidedly unsexy with the Lycra up to her navel. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw him watching her anyway, hands tucked behind his head, elbows akimbo. She wiggled her ass at him and he sat up in a fluid movement, hooking his arm around her waist and yanking her onto the bed with him. The next thing she knew, she was on her back and his fingers were playing between her legs. She wanted to laugh at the image of him touching her through her tights, like something they’d done as teenagers, but his fingers were too clever and she couldn’t catch her breath. He looked down at her as he drove her up, his expression smug, and any other time she would have knocked that look off his face, but—
She went tight as a bowstring as she reached the peak, then went boneless against him, vaguely aware of his own arousal.
“Erich,” she whispered, her breath stirring the hair of his chest.
He eased back, letting her out of bed. “Think about me today.”
She finished dressing in the living room. Her hands were still shaking as she strapped on her thigh holster. She picked up her keys from the entryway table and opened the door.
Snow had fallen overnight, blanketing Erich’s yard, her car and his truck. The light reflecting off the snow gave the night an eerie glow. She bounced the keys in her hand, considering climbing back into bed with Erich. She’d lived in Houston too long and didn’t remember how to drive in the snow—no
t that it was all that common in the Hill Country.
And she’d left her coat in the car.
No sense standing here letting all the cold into the house. The car was only a few feet away. Sucking in a deep breath, she wrapped her arms around herself and ran for the car.
She almost didn’t recognize the shot that rang out for what it was. Why would she, here in the Hill Country, away from all the dangers she’d experienced back in the city? But when reality registered, she dove for cover behind her car and heard a bullet smash into the window. She huddled, the snow wetting her dress and tights, chilling her, and yanked her gun free of its holster.
Where was the shooter? Was it a hunter gone nuts, or was someone targeting her?
When she saw the slashed tires on her car, her stomach dropped and she knew the truth. Targeting her. She looked over at Erich’s truck and saw it was listing, too, its tires slashed as well.
Erich’s front door yanked open and he appeared in the doorway, bare-chested and holding a rifle, making an easy target. Gunfire erupted behind her and Erich ducked back into the house as wood splintered from the door and door jamb. She couldn’t wait to see if he was all right. She had to pinpoint the shooter, southwest of the house. Taking a deep breath, she flipped the safety off and rose on her knees, firing three shots over the trunk of the car in the direction of the shots. She didn’t have ammo to waste. She hoped they didn’t either.
Her action stopped the firing long enough for Erich to barrel out the door and drop to the ground beside her, wearing only jeans, his long feet coated with snow and ice.
“Are you crazy?” she hissed. “You should have stayed in the house and called the cops.”
He tossed his cellphone in her lap. “I wasn’t going to hide and leave you out here alone.”
“I’m trained for this.” She picked up the phone in her left hand and dialed the operator, knowing there was no 9-1-1 service out here.
“You’ve trained for being shot at in the snow with only nine rounds?”
Home for the Holidays: A Contemporary Romance Anthology Page 21