by Brynne Asher
I chose to be, I even know I needed to be after all that happened with my dad. But the last few months have been nothing but a sucker punch to the gut, and Maya has been nothing but a light in my darkness. Because of her, I’ve been desperate for changes, and Christmas is going to be one of them.
“I can’t get warm.” She yawns, standing next to me as we both stare at the tree it took for-fucking-ever to find. I’ve never cut a tree down before, but for some reason when we were standing in the middle of all the Christmas shit, something came over me.
I’m not quite sure if testosterone took over, but standing in the middle of Walmart, I decided there was no fucking way she was having a tree unless I cut it down for her. Now, standing in her tiny rental, I can admit I should’ve reigned in my sudden surge of caveman tendencies and thought it through.
Once we got back from shopping, I drove straight to one of Crew’s barns and found a saw. We trudged through the freezing forest in search of a tree. This is when I started to see the flaw in my plan. I’m assuming Christmas tree farms are well organized and finding the perfect tree isn’t hard.
But in the dark of night with only a flashlight leading the way, it took forever. Maya laughed at me the whole time, and the longer we searched, the less picky we became.
Finally, after an hour of trudging through the forest with the cold sinking in, we settled on one.
I cut it down and dragged it back to her tiny house.
Rubbing the back of my neck, I look at the disaster in front of me. “I’ll get you another one.”
“No,” she says, rubbing her hands together to warm up. “It’s going to look better with lights and ornaments. What kind of tree do you think it is?”
I turn to look at her. “I’m not a forest ranger, but I’d say a fucking ugly one.”
She laughs. “It’s not ugly. A little sparse, maybe, but not ugly. There’s lots of room for the ornaments to hang, right? I think once we string the lights, it’ll be beautiful.”
My brows rise. “Beautiful?”
I shake my head and turn to her. It’s late, well into the morning hours, and she’s got to work tomorrow. She’s already changed into what she must sleep in. She’s in loose, soft pants cinched around her waist and a big hoodie. I can’t see one curve on her, but if there’s anything beautiful in the room, it’s definitely not the ugly-ass tree we just searched over an hour for.
“Yeah, beautiful,” she says, looking away from the ugliest tree on earth to face me. Her voice goes soft and low when she keeps on. “You make losing bets worth it, Grady Cain. This was only my second first date ever, but it was perfect. Thank you.”
Forgetting about the tree, I let that sink in at the same time I try not to think about her other first date, because the thought of that pisses me off.
Instead, I hook a finger in the neck of her hoodie and pull. “If you want to lose some more bets, I can make that happen.”
I kiss her, feeling her relax in my arms. I dip my hand under her sweatshirt, and the touch of her warm skin under my hand makes my dick twitch. When I slip my tongue in her mouth, she melts into me further, so I move my hand up her back to find it bare. Fighting my urge to yank off her sweatshirt, I press in between her shoulder blades, making her arch into me.
Fuck.
I deepen my kiss, wanting nothing more than to learn every contour of her body with my touch, and then, my tongue.
But for some reason, I stop. It doesn’t matter how she responds, this isn’t the time. I have no idea why it’s not. I want to bury myself in her more than I’ve wanted anything, but it’s not right. If for no other reason, I just took her on her second first date, and knowing who gave her the first, gives me all the determination in the world to be everything he wasn’t. This alone is all the willpower I need to pull away. But I’m no saint, and press my cock into her stomach first.
When I drag my lips away from hers, her face is flushed, and she’s catching her breath. Gripping my shoulders, she holds on tight, looking confused as to why I pulled away.
“You should go to bed,” I mutter, still holding her tight, not wanting to let go of her bare skin. Getting a hold of my voice, I go on, “You’ve got to get up early.”
As tired as she looked before, there’s a hint of disappointment on her face, and I can’t lie, it makes me fucking ecstatic. This also gives me more resolve that now’s not the time, after a long day, even though it feels fucking good to know she wants it.
I kiss her one more time before making myself let go. “Go to bed.”
“You’re staying again?”
“I am.” I step back and start to unbutton my shirt as I turn to my bag.
She closes herself in the bathroom for what seems like forever. When she finally comes out, I’ve changed into a pair of sweatpants and am ready to settle in for another long night of little sleep that has nothing to do with her miniature size sofa.
Standing at the door to her bedroom, she leans into the door jamb looking at me and calls softly, “Goodnight.”
I don’t get up and go to her. If I touch her, kiss her, or feel her melt into me again, I’ll lose my resolve.
“Sleep well,” I answer, wishing I could expect the same for myself.
She says nothing more, but nods before turning to her room and I lose sight of her. Her light flips off and I’m swallowed by darkness. I turn to my phone to check messages, thinking when we get back from Buffalo, it’ll be time to get back to work.
When I open my email, not only do I find updates on the recruits, but a forwarded one with the subject matter of Weston MacLachlan. I read through and sigh, relieved for now, but wondering what next week will bring in Buffalo.
Asa’s FBI contact confirms Maya’s ex and his friend have been home for almost a day. They know nothing more than that, but at least I know he’s not in Virginia. Not that I’m taking a chance they won’t send someone else for her. If she’s not at work in the tasting room, I’ll be with her. She’d probably be fine here in her little house by herself, but I’m not leaving for the sheer fact I can’t stand to be away from her.
I hear the bed move again and her roaming about. I look up to see her shadow standing in the door frame. She’s got on the same pants, but is wearing another thin tank.
“Grady?” Her voice comes at me hesitant and small.
“Yeah?”
Accustomed to working in the dark, it’s easy to see her fingers grip the woodwork she’s leaning against.
“Well, I feel bad you’re out here. You’ve got to be uncomfortable.”
“I’m good.”
She stands up straight, quickly gesturing in back of her and her voice is shaky. “You could come in with me. You know, to sleep … and stretch out, and be comfortable.”
I feel my mouth tip on one side. “Are you inviting me into your bed, baby?”
I see her eyes narrow and she turns defensive. “Fine, get a backache. I was only worried about your shoulder.”
I set my feet down from where they were propped on her coffee table and stand, tossing my cell to the sofa. It takes me four strides to close the distance, and when I do, she shifts to make room for me. Looking at her, I lightly drag my fingertips down her bare arm, and I swear she shivers.
Lowering my voice, I murmur, “I think I’d really enjoy being in your bed, but I'm trusting you not to take advantage of me, Maya. Don't disappoint me."
Fuck me, she bites her lip again as she shakes her head.
It’s my turn to narrow my eyes.
I turn and leave her in the doorway. When I make it to her bed, I turn back to her and put my thumbs at my waist, pushing my sweats down. Her eyes g
et big, as they follow my pants until they hit the floor. When I kick them to the side standing in my boxers, I hold out my hand for her. “You coming or are we switching places for the night?”
I hear her quick exhale, but she doesn’t delay. She comes to me, taking my hand. Turning, I guide her into bed, and I follow so I can face her, lying on my good shoulder.
Having her this close, wanting to feel her against my bare skin, I wrap my arm around her waist and I pull her to me.
Finally.
After all this time—allowing this woman to consume my thoughts, her being the only reprieve from my fucked-up memories—I’m here. Close to her, in her bed, where she invited me to be.
I’ve had her in my arms enough to know she’s tense. I yank up the back of her thin tank, wishing I could rip it off to feel her tits against my chest, but I don’t. I’ll settle for the bare skin of her back and start to stroke her skin lightly. “Relax.”
She sighs, whispering, “I hope you sleep better here.”
It’s my turn to sigh and really fucking mean it when I say, “Me, too.”
“Grady?”
“Yeah?”
“You give good dates.”
I smile and I think she can feel it because her body relaxes a bit. “That’s good to know. Haven’t had a date in a long time.”
She pushes back to look at me through the darkness. “You haven’t?”
I can’t tell her there’s no way to have a constant anything when one is traveling the world as an assassin. Instead, I pull her to me and kiss her before settling us again. “No.”
A few moments go by and it’s not hard to sense she’s wide awake now, her being chatty is the first clue.
“And thank you for spending Christmas with me,” she goes on.
I start stroking her back again, feeling her words against my neck. “I thought you were spending Christmas with me, but if you insist.”
I feel her body laugh, which feels fucking good against mine.
“Do you want to come to the Whitetail company Christmas party with me? It’s Monday night in Addy’s Ordinary.”
I smile and roll until she’s on her back. Looking at Maya under me, her body covered by mine, it takes all my resolve not to grind into her. “Are you asking me out?”
She shrugs. “I guess I am.”
“Do you give good dates?” I give her a little more of my weight.
Her face softens. “There won’t be a food truck, but I’ll do my best.”
“Now you ask me out,” I complain. “After I let you strip me down to almost nothing, maneuver me into your bed, and practically get me to second base. Taking me to your Christmas party is the least you can do.”
Laughter bursts from her lips, but it feels even better than it sounds, her body moving under mine. I dip my face to take her mouth as she continues to laugh. Kissing her, pressing her into her bed—I can hardly take it.
I roll, taking us back to our sides before I rip her clothes off. When I pull away, we both catch our breath. As she presses her face into my neck, I say, “You’d better go to sleep. You’ll barely get a few hours before work.”
I feel her breathe against my skin again and she sighs. “I think I might need to run before work.”
Knowing exactly what she means, I couldn’t agree more.
*****
“Motherfucker.” He’s not fighting back anymore, but I don’t give a fuck.
“Grady, she won’t open her eyes.” Raine is crying in back of me, but I don’t stop to look.
“Never again. You won’t touch them ever again. Fucking asshole.” I pull his head up by his hair and pound it into the tile.
Holly and Peyton are crying in the background, but I don’t process it.
Sirens.
I look down at my hands. Wet and sticky, covered in blood.
His blood.
When I look down at the man who gave us life, but was too weak to be a father, I fall back on my ass.
Resting my elbows on my bent knees, I hold my hands up in front of me and slowly blink.
Things start to come into focus. The blood, my sisters crying, my father … and the blood. His blood—all-fucking-over me.
The sirens get louder.
“They’re almost here, Gracie. Wake up,” Raine begs through her sobs.
Only when I hear the sirens stop and pounding at the front door, do I feel how deeply my chest is heaving. So much, it’s almost painful.
That’s when I blink one more time. I look around.
It all comes into focus. I see it.
As the police file into my childhood home that’s been nothing but hell ever since our mother died—it happens.
The police try to talk to me, EMS start to work on Gracie, my other three sisters continue to cry.
Even though EMS start to work on him, I know.
Only then do I realize.
It’s over.
“Grady?” Her voice is rough with sleep.
My eyes fly open and I feel myself gasping for a breath.
“You jerked awake. Are you okay?”
She’s leaning up on a forearm looking down at me through the dark. Her eyes are worried.
Shit. I slept. Not like I’ve been sleeping with naps here and there, not allowing myself to really rest, because when I do, I dream, and I’m so sick of that motherfucker taking over my head. I can’t believe I let it happen the first time I’m in her bed. The last thing I remember is enjoying her soft hair against my skin.
I roll, pulling her into my arms, and just when I thought she felt good there earlier, it’s nothing compared to now.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. Even though my actions don’t mirror my words, I offer what I don’t want to do. “Sometimes I don’t sleep well. I’ll go back to the sofa so I won’t wake you again.”
“No.” She burrows deeper in my chest, holding me to her. “Don’t go.”
I should leave her to sleep, but I’m selfish. “I’ll try not to wake you again.”
“I’m good,” she murmurs against my chest, and sounds like she’s already close to sleep.
I hold her tight and close my eyes.
That one was different. In all the years since it happened, I’ve never dreamt about that day. Lots of other days, but not that one.
I don’t even know what that means.
I do my best to even my breathing so she can sleep and put it out of my head.
When her breath becomes steady again, it’s not hard. I need to focus on her, maybe that will help me forget my demons. At least for tonight.
I close my eyes, and for the first time in a long while, I allow myself to go back to sleep after the nightmares.
I sleep until her alarm goes off.
*****
Weston MacLachlan –
My phone rings over the speaker. I cringe when I see it’s my father because, between the shit going down with Maya and my new idea of moving drugs across the border instead of shipping them with produce, it’s been a long couple of days. I can barely control myself when I think of her with him. I’ve never felt more on edge, thinking of someone else touching her— tainting my sweet pussy.
“Yeah?” I answer, fisting the steering wheel and trying not to sound how I feel.
“Your mom just called. Vanessa has invited us to dinner next week. Son, Maya’s coming home.”
My heart stops. “She is?”
“For a visit,” he adds, his voice strained and I can tell he’s trying t
o temper his words. “She’s coming to see Joseph, but she’s bringing someone with her. I was told to warn you, but Vanessa wants you to see Maya. This may be your chance to convince her you’re ready to settle down.”
I hear what he’s saying, but all I can think about is her not being alone.
“She’s bringing him?” I bite out.
My dad sighs into the phone. “She is. But we don’t know what that means. I’m trying to find out what I can about him, but I’m coming up blank. It’s like he doesn’t exist. You need to keep your cool and do your best to convince her.”
I hang up on my dad without another word. Desperation isn’t something I’m used to, but it’s becoming a familiar feeling as the days wear on.
I look to the road as I steer myself home, but I don’t see anything. Nothing but red. My dad’s right. This might be my only chance. I need to do everything I can to convince her—the stakes are too high. I can’t even think about what I’ll have to do if she doesn’t come around … if she stays a liability.
I slam my hand into the steering wheel, causing the car to swerve.
Fucking desperation. I don’t know how much more I can take.
Chapter 15 – Friends
Grady –
“You leave tomorrow?” Crew asks.
“First thing in the morning. I booked the flight. We’re flying out of Manassas, coming back the next day. She said one night was enough, she just needs to see that her brother’s okay, although I can tell she’s not looking forward to seeing everyone else. We’re staying at her parents’ home so she can be close to her brother. She doesn’t want him to have to leave in case he has another seizure.”
“Talked to Asa who talked to Bennett at the FBI. They know you’ll be there. The wires are still up, and somehow, they got a bug in the MacLachlan house—in the big man’s office. If they hear of anything about Maya, I’ll call you.”
“I read about how secure it is—how did they get ears in there?”