Home for the Holidays: A Contemporary Romance Anthology

by Christine Bell

  “All right. Bad?”

  Another quick peek upwards. What was she looking at?

  “You’re right about the fraud.”

  Her comment distracted him from whatever she was looking at. A cold rock dropped in his stomach. Fraud. He’d put his trust in someone, and they had stolen from him. He clenched his fists. Violated didn’t begin to cover it. “Can we prove it?”

  “It’ll take more digging to be definitive.”

  He ran his hands through his hair. “Damn.”

  He caught yet another upward glance, and curiosity overruled his anger. “What are you looking at?” He followed her gaze and burst out laughing. Mistletoe hung, nailed in the doorway, and he knew he had his mother to thank. She put the stuff all over his house. At the time he’d thought the act futile, as he wasn’t dating anyone. Now…

  Ryan dropped his gaze to Ashley, who shifted her weight, then tipped her chin up in a show of bravado. He found himself—ridiculously—captivated. Such a little gesture. Why would it trigger an instant slash of desire?

  “Do you want to see the books now?” Ashley asked.

  Ryan crossed his arms to keep from touching her. “What I want is to back you against the barn door and kiss you silly.”

  Rather than shoot back with an angry retort, as he expected, Ashley’s mouth dropped open and a squeak escaped her.

  His lips hitched. “But I won’t. You’re here to help, and I promised I’d be a gentleman.”

  Was that disappointment in her eyes? Ryan McAdams you’re a damn fool. She never was and never will be interested. He sobered.

  He leaned down and tapped his cheek. “A quick peck to satisfy tradition, then let’s go look at those books.”

  “Fine.” She went up on tiptoe, bracing herself with her hands on his shoulders. Her lips were warm and soft against his skin, and he caught the strawberry scent of her shampoo before her hands dropped away and she stepped back.

  “Let’s go.” She marched back to the house.

  Ryan followed at a slower pace, unable to keep his eyes off the view, even hidden under his oversized jacket. Too bad, because the girl owned a first-rate ass. Besides, her innocent touch had ignited a craving inside him, leaving him hard as a rock, and he needed a second to calm down.

  How was he supposed to ignore her, inside his house, the rest of the day now?

  10

  “Dear Heart, Please stop getting involved in everything. Your job is to pump blood. That’s it.”

  --Anonymous

  Ashley couldn’t believe how tempted she’d been to lay a kiss on Ryan’s oh-so-kissable lips, rather than his cheek. He smelled fantastic—his spicy aftershave combined with the sweet smell of hay and horses. And he gazed at her as if she were the only other person in the universe, his entire focus solely for her. The intensity of that look about took her knees out from underneath her. His dark-eyed stare held no teasing, only want. In response, her body had slammed her with a full-frontal needy assault as heat swept through her and pooled low.

  Had her body turned traitor? Her reaction to Ryan made zero sense. How could she want the person who had dropped their friendship as though it meant nothing to him. Who patronized her and made no bones about how stupid he thought her decisions all those years.

  Though, to be fair, he never used the word stupid. Plus, the last few days, he’d shown a different side. Still fun-loving and teasing, but gentler. Like he used to be before. He protected her from Mason. Twice. He dealt with Eric at the auction in a man-to-man way.

  She found herself genuinely liking Ryan, remembering why they’d been friends in the first place, and that realization scared her more than the bungee jump Taylor purchased for their last birthday.

  The cold wasn’t what had her hustling inside. The man behind her, combined with her rampant desire, were motivation enough.

  She made it safely behind the computer long before he arrived. The back door slammed, followed by two thuds—Ryan taking off his work boots in the mudroom. A few seconds later, he appeared in the doorway. Sure enough, he wore only socks on his feet. Ignoring the knowing smirk on his face—did he guess why she’d hurried inside?—she jumped straight to business. Business equaled safe.

  “So here’s what I found—”

  She trailed off as he came around the desk and leaned over her, one hand on the back of her chair, one by the keyboard, surrounding her with his size. There went his addictive scent swirling around her again. Maybe she could set a new record for breath-holding?

  Oh holy hell. This was going to be a long day.

  Over the next thirty minutes, Ashley walked him through the discrepancies his accountant hid. Many could be written off as mistakes, but Ashley’s gut and experience, especially from the last ten months in Dallas, told her these were deliberate.

  “How do we prove it?” Ryan asked when she finished.

  “A good accountant is going to need several more hours, maybe even a day, to comb through things.” She grimaced. “Hopefully not longer.”

  Ryan scrubbed a weary hand over his face, a heaviness settling over his shoulders, which hunched forward. Suddenly, the man before her was not the strong, confident face he showed the world, but a worried rancher whose family relied on him.

  It took everything she had not to wrap him up in a hug. Ryan might be arrogant and bossy, but his heart was in the right place. Her mother had been right about that—just like Dad. More importantly, no one deserved to be taken advantage of like this.

  Ashley had to help.

  She placed her hand on his forearm, trying to ignore the impact of his lean muscles and warm skin under her palm. “I’m doing wedding stuff the rest of the week, but tonight I don’t have any plans.”

  He dropped to a crouch in front of her and pinned her with a searching gaze, which had her heart jumping around.

  “You’d do that? I mean, I’d be happy to pay you.”

  Determined to play it casual, Ashley leaned back in the chair and shook her head. “No need to pay me. I’ve already come this far; it’ll be faster for me to finish from here than bring in another set of eyes.”

  Before she had any inkling of what he planned to do, Ryan took her face in his hands and laid a hard, pulse-pounding kiss on her lips. Every nerve in her body jumped to thrilled, tingling life, even as he pulled away.

  “You’re an angel.”

  She blinked at him, trying to gather her wits, which had been swept up in a Texas twister of sensation and scattered to the winds. “Yup. I get that a lot.” Did her voice sound choked? She hoped he didn’t notice.

  “What do you need from me?”

  “Um…” It was just a kiss, and he’s Ryan. Pull your head out of your ass and think, girl. “I may have questions as we go along. Will you be around?”

  He stood and took a couple of steps back, but the distance didn’t help her lack-of-oxygen situation. “I planned to decorate my Christmas tree this afternoon.”

  No way. A small part of her froze, arrested by his simple statement. His Christmas tree? Did men do that? Dad always grumbled when Mom made him help with the tree. So did Eric. But Ashley always harbored a silly romantic vision of decorating the tree with her husband and, eventually, their children. Now she sat here in a puddle of turned-on goo, because Ryan McAdams happened to decorate his own Christmas tree. When she got back to Dallas, maybe she should find a psychiatrist who specialized in delusions.

  Some of her thoughts must’ve shown on her face, because he grinned. “Mine doesn’t take much decorating.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’ll cook dinner, too. You like your steak medium rare, right?”

  “Yes.” Her answer came out distracted as her mind remained on the Christmas tree thing.

  “Mashed or baked potato? Mashed right?”

  His comments finally penetrated. Wait. Either he was an amazing guesser, or he actually remembered that. She waved a hand, feeling a bit like a bug run over by an eighteen-wheeler on a highway. “Either.”r />
  “Right. I’ll leave you to it.”

  An hour later, the soft strains of Christmas music reached her. Ashley paused in her work and listened. Usually, when she worked from home, she did so on the couch, computer in her lap, with the TV on or music playing. Sitting in this back office seemed…lonely. On the other hand, if she went out to Ryan, she’d have to be around him.

  What bothered her most about that idea was the way her stomach clenched in eager anticipation.

  But he’d promised to behave. And he had, if you discounted the kiss he gave her in a moment of gratitude. How dangerous could tree decorating and a steak dinner be?

  Having mentally talked herself around, she decided no harm could come from working from his couch. Why change her habits just because Ryan happened to be close?

  She snatched up his laptop along with her notepad and pen and followed the sound of music. She discovered Ryan in the family room—showered and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt sporting the logo for the best football team in Texas, with the sleeves pushed back, of course, and holey socks on his feet. Maybe she’d get him some socks for Christmas. He was playing the role of her new crush, after all. A gift would be expected. Right?

  The crackly fire cast a lovely glow over the dimly lit room, reminding her of campfires with its burnt cedar scent. The TV mounted over the mantle, softly played holiday tunes. He hummed under his breath as he haphazardly sprinkled silver strands of tinsel over the most pathetic Christmas tree she ever saw.

  “You’d have been better off using that one for firewood.”

  Ryan startled, threw a glance over his shoulder at her, then turned back to the tree. “Don’t listen to her. You’re perfect,” he half whispered at the scrap of bark and pine needles. The thing was more like a bedraggled branch than a tree.

  She grinned, amused despite herself. “Are you talking to the tree?”

  He chuckled. “The best trees are the sad ones no one wants. I give them a home.”

  “So you have a soft spot for lost causes?”

  He turned those deep brown eyes her way. “No one is ever a lost cause.”

  There went her oxygen again. The air whooshed out of Ashley’s body as she plopped onto the long leather couch facing the fireplace. Ryan’s sad tree stood lopsidedly to the right of the hearth.

  He couldn’t have meant her, but it sure felt like he had. What would having Ryan’s friendship again feel like? She shooed the crazy thought away. He’d been the one to ditch their friendship. Yes, maybe she’d spent all her time with Eric, but Ryan could’ve supported her happiness. Right?

  “So…did you figure everything out? Can I go after this asshole?”

  Ryan’s voice pulled her out of her own head and strangely wishful thinking. She blinked, trying to catch up, and he nodded at the computer in her lap.

  “Oh! No. I just don’t like working in an office. If that’s okay?”

  “Sure. Work wherever you want.”

  “Thanks.” She lifted the laptop lid to log in while Ryan went back to decorating the tree. Ashley lost herself in the numbers again and relaxed. Ryan’s solid presence in the background became almost soothing as he quietly went about his task, humming to the music in an off-key baritone.

  She glanced up at one point and choked back a laugh.

  Ryan turned. “What? Too much?”

  “I think you missed a spot.” She sniggered. Silver tinsel obscured the entire tree.

  He tilted his head, assessing his work. “Maybe I should pull a little off,” he mused.

  “If you don’t want it to collapse under the weight, that might be a good idea.”

  She turned her attention back to his finances, but hadn’t got very far when silver rained all around her. “Hey! What’s the big idea?” She laughed, brushing clinging strands of tinsel from her face and off the keyboard.

  “That’s for questioning my tree decorating skills.”

  “I didn’t question. I gave you a helpful suggestion.”

  “In the form of an insult.”

  She slapped both hands to her cheeks in mock-horror. “Oh, the poor wittle cowboy got his feewings huwt?” she cooed.

  In retaliation he dumped another handful of tinsel on her, and Ashley laughed. “Okay, okay. I have work to do, McAdams. Do you want me to figure this out or not?”

  He narrowed his eyes, glowering with faked anger. “Are you blackmailing me, Hughes?”

  She held up both hands. “Just telling it like it is. I took a leaf from your book. Hard Truths As Seen By Ryan McAdams.”

  As soon as the words shot out of her mouth, she wanted to toss out a lasso and yank them back. Why had she gone there?

  Ryan sobered suddenly, then, to her consternation, dropped to the couch beside her. She grabbed for the computer as it jiggled, her personal space alarm going off at his nearness.

  “I was a big jerk to you over the years. Wasn’t I?” he asked.

  And, just like that, in the face of sincere regret staring her down, she wanted to forget those past insults. Forget his betrayal of their friendship. She’d played her own part in that, constantly obsessing over her new boyfriend. Look at how easily they’d slipped into their old companionable ways today. Again, her mother’s comparison popped into her head. Had all those comments and his disappointment in her come from a place of actual caring, rather than criticism or blame?

  She lifted a piece of tinsel off her lap, smoothing the strand with her fingers. “I believe the last time we talked, you told me, ‘Any woman who let a man dictate her life was no better than a dog on a leash.’”

  Ryan winced. “I’m sorry, Hughes. Please blame it on being young and stupid. And frustrated. I never wanted to hurt you. I just…” He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the thick dark strands so they stood up at odd angles. Ashley had the weirdest urge to smooth them down for him.

  He shifted to face her more directly. “When you started dating Eric, you suddenly had no time for me. I was hurt and jealous and fifteen. I should have talked to you or handled it better. Hindsight and all that.” His lips crooked in a bitter smile.

  “The day I said that about the leash, when we had that fight? I noticed you didn’t have a ring, and you told me Eric hadn’t proposed. That you were waiting. For what? You’d been together eight or nine years, and you deserved” —He shrugged.— “more. You followed him all through high school, didn’t seem to mind losing me as a friend, gave up Math Club because he wanted you to do 4H with him, gave up going to a big university on scholarship to follow him to the smaller college he got into, and you were waiting again. For him to get off his ass and propose. You were willing to wait for a lukewarm proposal. Something as huge as the-rest-of-your-life should come from a man who’s so in love with you he can’t wait to start that life together. Look at Eric and Taylor.”

  Ouch.

  He broke off with a grimace. “I’m doing it again, I guess. I don’t say that to be mean. But look at how fast he moved to propose when the right woman turned up. You deserved that, too. You still do. Someone to adore you and want you to reach your full potential. Look what you’ve done at the accounting firm. Promoted already, after less than a year, I heard.”

  Wow. Just, wow. Ashley gulped. She had no idea. “I’m sorry about my part in our friendship, too. You were right. I was love blind, I guess. And also young and stupid.” She licked her lips. “As for all the other decisions. A big university wasn’t my scene. I wanted to go to a smaller school. What I wanted most was to come home and work the ranch with my family. Eric might have been an additional factor in my decisions, but he wasn’t the driving reason.”

  Ryan stared at her, as if trying to see into the truth inside her soul. “Is that true?”

  She gave him a sad smile. “Maybe what I needed was a friend to point out any concerns—gently—then stop and listen to me. Instead of someone who made me feel as if I were an idiot for every decision I made.”

  He ran a hand over his jaw, the soft scratch of his earl
y-evening stubble loud in the silence. “I couldn’t be your friend, Ashley. It would have been too self-serving.” Regret, and an elusive emotion she couldn’t put her finger on, laced his voice.

  “What does that mean?” She cocked her head, confusion pursing her lips. Had he liked her? As more than a friend?

  He blew out a long breath and levered off the couch. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  Her heart constricted at his words, and she shivered at the loss of his warmth beside her.

  He faced her, purpose hardening his mouth. “You are a smart, capable, beautiful woman. Someone I always admired and liked. I’m sorry if my words or actions ever hurt you.” He held out a hand. “Maybe we could start over? As friends. Again.”

  Friends. She shouldn’t feel disappointed about the label. But she did. Jeez. What was going on with her anyway? Did she want more? That couldn’t be it. Maybe the wedding stuff, combined with being single during the holidays for the first time since she was fifteen, was getting to her.

  Ashley shook his hand. “Friends it is.”

  Awkward silence descended as they stared at each other. Reluctantly, she pulled her hand out of his grasp and waved at the computer. “Okay, friend, I’d better keep working on your fraud issue.”

  “Right.” He turned away and went into the kitchen, where he rattled around for a bit, the clang of pots and pans reaching her where she remained on the couch.

  Ashley did her best to ignore him until the sound of popping filled the air, followed by the buttery scent of popcorn.

  “Popcorn with steak?” she called.

  He held up a bowl of cranberries. “I’m stringing it for the tree.” He grimaced. “Mom’s suggestion.”

  “Ah.” Until today she would’ve placed seeing Ryan string popcorn and berries for his Christmas tree at the same level of likelihood as catching a leprechaun. “Don’t you have any ornaments?”