The Trouble with Christmas

by Amy Andrews

  Grady didn’t bother to correct them. Let them think he was taking Suzanne away to ravage her—it was the part he was supposed to be playing, after all. Grabbing her hand, he tugged, and she followed as he walked out of the living room, through the arch, and down the hallway to his office.

  No way were they having a conversation anywhere near a bed.

  He gathered his anger as he went. He needed it as both sword and armor right now. Because this was not about picking up where they’d left off in the kitchen—he wanted an explanation, damn it!

  But if he thought Suzanne was going to just stand there all dazed and pliant and let him rant, he was sorely mistaken. It was like the door clicking shut snapped her out of her altered state and instead of finding hazy blue eyes and a soft luscious mouth, she was staring at him through chips of ice, her lips tight.

  “What’s wrong with you?” she hissed, her arms folded tight around her middle as she backed away several paces, putting distance between them. “My parents probably think we’re in here fucking.”

  Grady blinked at both the dirty word coming out of her pretty mouth and at her demeanor. She was angry with him? She was angry with him? Jesus, was she for real? “Isn’t us fucking the whole point?”

  It was not in Grady’s nature to be crude around women. His mother had brought him up to be polite and respectful with the opposite sex—well, just generally really, but with women particularly—and the uniform had demanded the same standards. But Suzanne knew exactly how to push all his buttons.

  “At two o’clock in the afternoon?” she hiss-whispered.

  Grady laughed out loud. She was really something. Did she not know that if what was happening between them was real, they’d be fucking all hours of the day and night? Grady would have absolutely no compunction delegating as much as possible to his hands so he could stay in the cabin with her until one or both of them were injured or dead.

  “Oh, sorry, when do all the cool, hip New York artists usually fuck?” he goaded.

  Even now, with her eyes shooting daggers at him, with her looking at him like she did that first day when she’d accused him of being a cowpoke, he wanted to sweep everything off his desk and give her the kind of afternoon delight that inspired pop songs. That yellow shirt of hers hugging her breasts was distracting as fuck. He wanted to stride across to where she was standing, tear it open, yank down her bra cups. He wanted to shove his hands inside her pants and kiss her again like he had out in the kitchen.

  But deeper and harder and dirtier.

  He wanted to make her come fast and furious, her eyes spitting chips at him even as she came apart and he whispered all the reasons why she should never piss him off again.

  “Why did you drag me in here?” she demanded, wisely ignoring his deliberately crude inquiry.

  Grady took a breath. He was too wired. Alert in a way that was reminiscent of night patrols in the Middle East. He needed to calm the fuck down or he was going to stroke out. He shoved his hands in his pockets, waiting several beats before he answered. “Burl seems to be under the impression that I have a girlfriend I’m keeping a big secret out here on the ranch. Could you enlighten me as to how he might think that?”

  “Ah.”

  “Yes. Ah.”

  “I was going to mention it to you, but—”

  “But?” he interrupted. Why was there even a but? Surely a heads-up would have been the only decent thing to do.

  “I was hoping it wouldn’t get out.”

  He snorted. “Guess what, Suzy? It did.”

  “Look, okay.” She held her hands up in a placatory gesture. “I can explain.”

  “Oh, you better.” He folded his arms. “Because I am sure we had a conversation about this relationship staying right here on the ranch. In fact, I’m pretty sure I insisted.”

  “It wasn’t me. We were in Jack’s yesterday, and Mom let it slip that you were my boyfriend. I’m sorry, I tried not to make a big deal out of it, and I changed the subject right away and honestly, there were only a few people in the conversation. It wasn’t like we dropped a flyer in everyone’s mailbox.”

  “This is Credence. Nothing stays a secret for long. Who was there?”

  “A couple of guys from the old folks’ home. Ray Carmody and Bob someone.”

  “Bob Downey? Well, Jesus.” Grady shoved a hand through his hair. “She might as well have bought a billboard. He used to be the mayor here a long time ago and still takes a little bit too much interest in the goings-on.”

  “Crap, okay…I really am sorry. But surely it’s not the end of the world? I mean, you live all the way out here—it’s not like you’re going to hear any gossip.”

  Grady’s temper flared again. Of course someone who lived amid the anonymity of ten million people could be flippant about the repercussions. “It’s not whether I hear it or not. It’s that it’s out there. My aunt is insisting she meet you.”

  Another deliciously distracting bob of her throat spiked his anger higher. She’d landed him in another mess, and he was angry—his aunt was involved now. This was not the time to let his libido take charge.

  “Oh…shit.”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “And she’s a really nice woman who never had any kids of her own but didn’t blink an eye when a pissed-at-the-world seventeen-year-old kid full of anger and attitude landed on her. She wrapped me up and loved me through all my rage even when I didn’t want her to. And she’s been breaking her heart over me for the last seventeen years, hoping and wishing despite my never giving her any reason to think otherwise, that one day I’d find the kind of love that she and my uncle have for each other. And now here you are, and she wants to meet you. My girlfriend. Because all she’s ever wanted was for me to be happy and oh, maybe now she doesn’t have to worry so much about me.”

  “God…Josh…” Her eyes melted from ice to two huge, warm puddles, and she took a step toward him, but Grady stopped her with an almost vicious shake of his head. “I’m so sorry…”

  Grady couldn’t bear the compassion in her eyes, the soft sympathetic hitch in her voice. It affected him on a level he’d spent a lot of years pretending didn’t exist and that fed the anger already burning through his system. He’d rather she be angry. That way he could maintain his rage, too.

  He didn’t need it diluted by her sympathy.

  “I may live outside Credence, but I’m part of this town whether I like it or not. And what I don’t need is a line of well-meaning townsfolk appearing with their apple pies and their cobbler and their fucking platitudes the second you hightail it out of town. I had enough pity to last me a lifetime seventeen years ago.”

  She nodded. “I’m sorry.” Her voice wobbled, and she cleared her throat. “How do we fix it?”

  Grady blanched at her question. “We don’t do anything. I’ll fix it.” Jesus, she’d done enough already. “I’ll deal with it. I deal with things—that’s what I do.”

  She looked like she was going to say something, opened her mouth, even, then shut it again and didn’t say anything. “What?” he demanded.

  “If you don’t mind an observation? I don’t think you deal at all. Not talking about things isn’t dealing with them. They don’t go away just because you don’t say their name, Joshua.”

  Grady hated that she’d known him for two weeks and had already nailed the way he coped with the crap that had come his way. Just one more thing pissing him off, itching like a fever in his blood. “Oh, you mean like how you didn’t mention to me about your mom telling Bob Downey about us and just kept your fingers crossed that it wouldn’t get out?”

  “Yeah, sure,” she said, compassion turning to sarcasm. “That’s exactly the same thing.”

  “Well, you don’t need to worry, because I’m not going to deal with it your way. I’m going to tell my aunt and uncle the truth.”

  “Wh-what?”

>   Suzanne’s expressive face ran the gamut of emotions, from confusion to questioning to irritated, then finally alarm. He could watch her face all damn day.

  “But—”

  “Don’t worry.” He cut her off before she could object. “They’ll keep your little secret.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I’ll ask them to,” he said testily.

  He knew Burl and Cora would play along with the deception if he asked, even though it would go against their principals of honesty and decency. Which made Grady feel extra shitty. As if regular shitty wasn’t bad enough. This was exactly the kind of thing he knew was going to happen when Suzanne had brought this proposal to him.

  “But I don’t want them getting hurt in this process. They’ve been through enough, Suzy, and I will not give them any false hope.”

  He should have put his uncle straight on the phone when he’d first called. But Grady had been too stunned at the revelation and sideswiped by the genuine joy in Burl’s voice to strategize on his feet, especially when he was missing a chunk of the background information.

  “Okay,” she said after a beat or two, her voice small. “Of course, you’re right, I’m sorry. Whatever you want. I just wish…”

  Grady waited for her to finish her sentence, resentment still ticking in his veins. He shouldn’t care about what she wished, but he did. “What?”

  “I don’t know. I like Burl. I guess I don’t want him or your aunt to think I’m some kind of flake who sets up an elaborate scheme with a fake boyfriend to lie to her parents.” She took a step toward him, and this time Grady didn’t try to stop her. “I’m really not this person, Josh. I know you haven’t known me long enough to know it but god…I’m so by the book I don’t even jaywalk, and everybody jaywalks in New York.”

  Her voice was thick with regret and, for what it was worth, Grady believed her. Maybe he hadn’t known her long enough, either, but he knew enough to know that while she could be a spitfire, there was nothing of the rebel about her.

  But the point was—she was this person now. “It’s not too late to walk this back.”

  “Oh, Josh.” She shook her head, her teeth pressing into her bottom lip, looking utterly miserable. “This hole is so deep now, there’s only one way out of it, and that’s through the other side. And I need my parents concentrating on their relationship, not me and my fake one. I don’t want to give them a distraction from getting their shit together or,” she shuddered, “have my mother hounding me to see her therapist.”

  Grady, who had seen enough shrinks to last a lifetime, understood that shudder all too well. Understood also, thanks to his military experience, that sometimes pushing forward was the only option no matter how much retreat appealed.

  “Well, you do what you gotta do,” he said. The anger dissipated suddenly, leaving him weary. “And I’ll do what I’ve gotta do.”

  “I really am sorry,” she said. When he waved away her apology, she added, “I’ll understand if you don’t want to take us out to see the ranch now.”

  “No. It’s fine. I said I’d do it, and I have time. I think we’re in for a few days of snow, so it might be now or never.”

  A beat or two passed, and then she said, “Thank you,” and smiled at him. A sweet smile full of relief and gratitude that curled up inside his heart, and just like that, he was angry again. Goddamn it, he didn’t want things curling up inside his fucking heart.

  What was wrong with him? Why were things so complicated with this woman? He didn’t want her smiling at him like that, like they had some kind of normal relationship. Like they were friends. Like they could be…lovers.

  He wanted her to look like she had when she’d first come into the office—royally pissed.

  “I want a painting.”

  She blinked at him, her smile fading, and his heart thudded against his rib cage like it was trying to get out. He felt instantly better and worse. Accomplished and lower than a slug all at once.

  “You said you didn’t want a painting for the ranch tour.”

  He shrugged deliberately, callously. “I do now.”

  For a moment, a flash of something murderous glowed in her eyes and pulled her mouth into a taut line, and Grady thought she was going to say, Screw you, buddy. Hell, he almost wished she would, matching her anger to his.

  She didn’t. She just did that little chin-jut thing that he was starting to know really well and said, “Which one?”

  He gave an indifferent shrug this time and injected a bored tone into his voice. “I don’t care.”

  Another flare of murder in her gaze and something else, too—maybe distress?—but it was there and gone in the blink of her eyes. Not saying another word, she strode across the room, giving him a wide birth as she grabbed the knob and opened the door.

  Grady breathed out, shoving a hand through his hair and letting his head drop down. The screaming tension in his neck and shoulders he hadn’t even been aware of released suddenly in a rush of blood. His heart thudded like a bongo drum, so loud he was amazed she hadn’t heard it from the other side of the room.

  He didn’t know why he was being such a dick about those paintings. Taking them from her one by one. But he knew they were precious to her—as precious as his peace and privacy were to him. And that was a fair trade as far as he was concerned.

  He heard her footsteps returning, and his muscles pulled taut again as he shoved his hands into his pockets. She entered the office, not even acknowledging him as she crossed to the opposite side and propped the canvas against the wall, facing in.

  Man, she was pissed.

  Turning back, she didn’t make eye contact as she headed to the door. “We’ll be waiting outside for you when you’re done being a prick,” she said calmly, and Grady’s barely leashed temper spiked again, his pulse pounding like the gallop of hooves through his ears.

  She had one foot out the door when he said, “Wait.”

  His arm shot out, his fingers lightly circling her wrist, and he watched her in profile as she glanced down at where he had her shackled, then glanced at him, cool as a fucking cucumber. There was about three feet separating them as he gave a gentle tug. She went with it, but she was stiff, and she stumbled a little, her shoulder bumping into his sternum, but it didn’t matter—he barely felt it as cookie dough and the rough jerk of her breathing filled up his senses.

  Grady’s hands found her face, his palms sliding onto her cheeks, then his fingers funneled into her hair, and even though her eyes still flashed blue murder at him, she was lifting toward him and he was lowering toward her and their lips met and he groaned as his mouth slanted over hers, opened, demanded hers open, too, groaning when she let him in, when her tongue touched his, when it licked along his lips, when her mouth moved hard and deep and frantic, spiraling heat and lust to his core—to his abs, to his thigh, to his ass.

  And all the way deep inside his balls.

  How he broke away from her, Grady would never know. But he did—a very deliberate move. “Now you look like we’ve been fucking,” he said, the growl in his voice scratching like razor blades in his throat.

  Panting hard, she stared at him for long beats, her gaze a curious mix of lust and calculation before she slid her hand to his neck and tugged, pulling him in for another brief, hard kiss. She nipped his bottom lip as she pulled away, and Grady reared back, cussing under his breath.

  “Ow,” he said at the hot little streak of pain, his tongue automatically touching the spot. Her gaze flared as it followed the movement, and she was still breathless as she said, “Now we look like we’ve been fucking, you asshole.”

  Then she turned on her heel and left him standing there, his pulse roaring, the aroma of cookie dough in his nostrils, and the taste of blood on his tongue. And fuck if he wasn’t more turned on than he’d ever been in his life. Which was just what he needed abou
t five seconds out from spending the afternoon with her parents.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  If Suzanne was in her right mind, she’d have been amazed at the number of words Grady was speaking during their ranch tour. Poor guy was pretty much forced to as her parents peppered him with 101 questions. He did his best answering them in his preferred communication style of brevity while trying to be polite and respectful and fulfill the role of fake rancher boyfriend.

  But throughout, his love and pride for this place—his uncle’s place—was evident.

  He drove the fence line and pointed out herds of cattle now grazing on the more sheltered winter pastures where there were gullies and treed areas for wind protection during blizzards. He drove past several large crude structures closed in at three sides that looked like big open barns, which could be used for animals to shelter in during the worst snowfalls in winter and for storage of hay or equipment at other times. They also passed two small, rough-hewn shacks right out of the Wild freaking West that were there for emergency shelter should anyone ever be stuck out on the ranch in inclement weather.

  But Suzanne only really kept one ear on the conversation. Her stomach churned and her brain was spinning like a top as it gnawed on all that had happened in the last couple of hours. How Grady was going to tell his aunt and uncle about them, and how she hated that they were somehow going to think less of her even though she barely knew Burl and hadn’t met Cora yet and might not at all, and, come the New Year, she’d never see them again.

  How incensed he’d been about their secret getting out and how ragey she’d been that he’d dragged her into his office like a recalcitrant schoolgirl. And how he’d kissed her—twice—making her hot and needy and then angry. So angry she’d bitten him. God…she’d never bitten another human being in her life, let alone deliberately out of spite and malice and some wild sexual impulse she didn’t even want to think about.

  She’d never been aroused by that kind of edginess, by the need to mark someone, but the way he’d reared back, the way heat had flared in his gaze as his tongue had lapped at the injured flesh of his lip had been a heady kind of turn-on.