by Cari Quinn
“Yeah, Juliet. She’s also Margo’s sister, so paws off, horndog. Now scatter.”
“Damn. Another one off-limits.” Michael grinned and shut the door.
The instant footsteps echoed down the hall, Nick tossed off the covers and rolled to his feet, groaning all the while. He felt better than he had, that was for sure. Still wasn’t ready to be doing calisthenics or anything.
Which was why after he’d pulled on his jeans and opened the bathroom door—he’d knocked, of course, and of course been resoundingly ignored—he did a doubletake at Lila bent toward the sink in some kind of pretzel pose. She hadn’t put on her jeans, just her sweater and teeny tiny panties, and God almighty, her ass was like the north star. He’d nearly bent his face to pay his respects when she flung out an elbow and almost decked him.
What was one more injury?
“Gah!” She pulled an earbud out of her ear. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Obviously.” But this was a good thing. Maybe she hadn’t heard him say that dumbass stuff to Michael. “Are you doing yoga? In the bathroom?”
“Yes. I needed to find my Zen, and it wasn’t out there with you two.” She huffed out a breath. “What do you want?”
“Good morning to you too.”
It made her smile, but just a little. “Sorry. I’m a little off today.”
“I noticed. Sleeping in late, no kiss good morning, no sunny greeting for your stepson, pervy as he may be.”
“Stop it. He’s not pervy.”
“If you were my stepmom, I would’ve fallen to my knees and thanked God and looked for the nearest pie.”
Her brows drew together. “What?”
“Sorry. American Pie reference. Pretty sure it’d gross you out, because it is gross. But you know, male.”
She shook her head. “I can’t Nick today. Not until I’ve eaten at least. I’m starving.”
“Smoothie time? I bet your mom makes killer ones.”
“God no. I need protein. Something like bacon. And eggs. And possibly a fleet of muffins.” She pulled on her jeans, then breezed past him.
He stared after her.
She always had a smoothie and a muffin for breakfast. Habitually. She managed to find them in every corner of the universe.
Emotional eating probably. She was home with the family, and though she loved them, that had to have an effect on anyone’s stress level. Especially since their entire extended Oblivion and Warning Sign families were meandering around too.
He took care of business in the bathroom then brushed his teeth, washed his face, and took a few minutes to deal with his stubble. He came back into the bedroom and grabbed a pair of jeans and after a moment’s heated mental debate, grabbed the sweater Laverne had knitted for him as an early Christmas gift. It consisted of a reindeer with a guitar painted on his gigantic red nose, and he’d been oddly touched. At least it was blue and silver instead of green and red. Well, minus the red nose.
What the hell. It was a gift. He sorta even liked it.
He pulled it on and was about to go look for Lila when he saw that the French doors to the tiny balcony were open. She was leaning against the wooden railing, clad in just her boots, jeans and that butter yellow sweater. Her hair was in a high ponytail and when she turned to glance back at him, her porcelain cheeks were flushed from the cold and her eyes were so, so blue.
Her lips moved, but he didn’t hear her. At unexpected moments, love just slammed into him and turned him into a mute. This was one of those times.
What shook him out of his stupor was the snowball that nailed him dead on his reindeer.
“What the fuck!” he yelled, briefly forgetting that hey, children were in residence. Since he could now hear the whooping and laughter down below on the lawn that explained what Lila had been looking at, he felt mildly concerned about his language. But only mildly though, because someone had hit him when he was defenseless.
Not for long.
He grabbed Lila and pulled her into a crouch, muffling her laughter with a hard kiss. “Shh. Who got me?”
“I don’t know. It could’ve been any of them. They’re all down there. Gray, Jazz, Deacon, Harper, Simon, Margo. Molly, Juliet, Michael, Ricki, plus the kids and the dogs—”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Fucking horde. Okay, how’s your aim?”
“Are you kidding me? I could take out two of them with one snowball. I was born with ice in my lungs.”
“Damn, girl. Don’t give me wood when I gotta go on the attack.” He kissed her again, lingering for an extra minute because her lips tasted like frosted candy. Her tongue too, as it slyly teased his before darting away.
He drew back to rub her arms. Her sweater was pretty thick, but it was cold out. “Where’s your coat? And your gloves?”
“Inside.” Her eyes danced. “I didn’t expect to be called into battle.”
“Go get them. Sneakily.”
“I’ll be getting yours too. You aren’t risking pneumonia.”
He didn’t take time to argue. Strategizing was far too important. “Okay. Hurry. Actually, you know what? I’ll come with you. We’ll ambush them from the front door. Or the side. On three, up and run.”
She shook her head as if he was silly. Not unusual for her with him at all. “Three. Go.”
It was his turn to shake his head but still in a crouch, he dragged her with him and spun toward the French doors.
They didn’t make it a step before two snowballs splatted against the glass and rained chunks of ice onto their heads.
“Bastards. They’re going to get it.”
“You don’t even know who did it.” Still in a crouch, Lila picked snow blobs out of her hair.
“I don’t care. They’ll all get it until I find out. No one’s exempt. Even the kids. Dyl’s a menace when he gets his hands on one of those bouncy balls.”
Laughing, she grabbed the handle of the French door and shoved it wider so they could duck inside. She slammed it closed just as more snowballs thudded against the glass.
“Damn, they’re relentless.”
“You’re telling me.” He pulled her against him. “Here, let me check for wounds.”
She let him get as far as cupping her ass before she pushed him back and went to grab their gear. “Nice try.”
“You know we haven’t consummated being engaged yet. That’s a rule.”
“Oh is it? Considering we ‘consummated’ not fifteen minutes before becoming engaged, I think we’re all good.”
“There’s also the vacation sex edict. I should be inside you at least once per every twelve-hour period.” When she tossed him his coat and gloves, he stuck out his lower lip. “You don’t want to anger the vacation gods, do you?”
“No. But unless I can pour salt on your unmentionables and eat them with eggs over easy, you’re going to have to wait. My breakfast has been delayed even more thanks to snowmageddon.” She tugged on her puffy pink jacket and her equally cute pink gloves, then set her ski cap on her head. Also pink. “Okay, I’m ready. Wait, you need a hat.” She went to his bag, rooted around and came up with one, pressing it into his hand.
He took advantage, drawing her into his arms again. “So it turns out I’m really liking this being engaged thing.”
She rolled her eyes, but he saw how she’d flushed to match all her girl gear. “That so?”
“Yeah. All of this is mine to grope.” He nuzzled her neck. “I haven’t even awakened you like I’m supposed to yet. Sure we can’t go back to bed and try again?”
More snowballs hit the glass, followed by the chants of “Scaredy cats!”
Nick sighed. “No, we can’t. I need to rub snow in Simon’s face and render him sterile.”
“Not until you guys have gone on tour, you don’t. Don’t harm the merchandise. Any more than you have already. Jerk.” She gave him a light shove, but she still pulled his hat down over his head.
The woman loved him, stupidity and all. He was almost sure.
; “Hey, wait. You’re still thinking we’ll tour this year?”
“Yes, and so’s Donovan. Depending what comes out of the studio, of course. Why?”
He rubbed his thumb over her cheek. “Just not really looking forward to going on the road.”
“It’ll be fine. You guys will mesh again and it’ll be just like old times. Better even.”
“No, it’s not that. I don’t know how things are going to go with the rest of them, but I already know I don’t want to be gone for weeks at a stretch. Not if you’re stuck back here helping Michael hold his dick. Euphemism,” he said quickly, lifting his hands at her snarl. “I mean with his band. And Brooklyn Dawn, and Hammered, and Christ, you’re involved with so much now. You won’t ever be able to get away.”
“We’re going to get you set up with a true road manager this tour. Donovan’s already making arrangements. So you don’t have to worry about that.”
He rubbed his eyes. “I’m not worried about needing a manager, Li. I want you with us because I don’t know how I can sleep without you.”
She inhaled and pursed her lips, moving in closer. “And this is how I end up flat on my back so often.”
“Not true.” His lips twitched. “You’re often on top. Or on your knees. I especially like that one.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Remember how I said that was creepy, because it’s so much like your dad?”
“Mmm-hmm.” She grinned and snagged his hand, pulling him with her to the door.
“The evil is strong in you.”
“Shh. My parents are probably downstairs. Let’s pretend we’re a happy engaged couple.”
“We are a happy engaged couple,” he said, affronted.
“Yes, I know that, but insults don’t sound like happiness to my parents. They expect us to be lovey-dovey at all times.”
“Oh sugarbutt, you frost my buns,” he said in a loud singsong voice, allowing her to descend the steps before him.
She sighed. “You try my patience, Crandall.”
He leaned down and rested his chin on her shoulder. “Wanna spank me later? I’ll let you.”
Fred picked that moment to come out the door under the stairs. He stopped at the bottom, his eyebrow raised. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”
“He’s not serious,” Lila said quickly.
“Yes, I am.” Nick sidestepped her to go to the wide windows that overlooked the part of the property where the melee was taking place. “Klepto should be on a leash. He can’t be trusted yet.”
“He’s doing just fine. That dog’s not stupid. He knows when he’s got it good, and Laverne gave him a piece of ham all for himself this morning.”
“Ham,” Lila moaned, sounding on the verge of orgasm.
Nick glanced back. “You okay?”
“I told you I was hungry.”
“You come with me then.” Laverne wrapped an arm around Lila’s shoulders. “You want to eat, you eat.”
“But they’re having a snow fight outside—”
“Go on now,” Fred said. “You need your strength. They can wait for you for a few minutes.”
“Especially considering where you’re resting your head at night.” Laverne smiled and guided Lila toward the kitchen. “She’ll be back soon.”
Nick followed Fred to where he was stacking bottles of maple syrup three-deep on a shelf by the cash register. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What’s what supposed to mean?”
“The bit about where she’s resting her head.”
“Oh. That.” Fred waved it off. “Women’s nonsense.”
“What kind of women’s nonsense?”
Fred turned back to his cardboard box of supplies. “Just an old tale about every couple who sleeps in that room getting pregnant during their stay. Pure poppycock.”
Nick had to reach out to grab the counter. “You—what—why?”
Fred glanced back, frowning. “What happened to that bit about you willingly giving her your extra sperm?”
“That was later. In the future later. Not now. We’re not even married! And frankly, Fred, I’m surprised you’d condone such behavior under your own roof.” Nick clutched his chest, which was only partly an affectation. He might actually stroke out anytime now. “Vows should be sacred.”
“Oh, so I’m supposed to believe you’ve been saving yourselves. Boy, get out of my face.”
He had to laugh. “I’m just saying. Only married people should be put in a haunted room.”
“It’s not haunted. It’s a very romantic place, where romantic things happen. Including children.”
“So much for it being women’s nonsense, huh?”
“It is. You know why? Because statistics say that couples on vacation tend to have relations in any rooms that have doors. We mostly have couples stay here. Shocker, some end up with child.” With the stock shelved, Fred tossed aside the empty cardboard box. “Now get. I have work to do.”
Nick did as requested and practically dashed outside. He really didn’t care to discuss cursed rooms. Not that having a baby was a curse exactly, but everyone kept saying things that were putting his hackles on edge.
Children were fine. Truly. He just wanted to ease in.
All of the easing in.
He stepped outside, unguarded, and came face to face with little Lexi, running toward him on unsteady legs. Her face was blotchy with tears and she was sobbing.
No, screaming.
Like a tiny brunette banshee.
He wanted to shriek himself, but he still bent down to halt her forward flight. “Aww, sweetheart. What’s a matter?”
She pressed her screwed-up face into his chest and wailed.
Lord, give me strength.
Cupping her head, he searched around frantically for one of her parents. Or Jazz. Or anyone who could be trusted with a small, moroseful child while he went to gather his dog and his wits.
Spotting Deacon, standing in the stiff wind like a giant Evergreen in his green jacket, Nick marched toward him, holding Lexi at arm’s length. That wasn’t so much due to flying snot as a shield against possible snow attacks. No one, not even that rat bastard Simon, would pelt him while he carted an innocent child.
“Found my little rugrat, huh?” Seeming completely unconcerned that Lexi was practically in convulsions, Deacon scooped her out of Nick’s grasp and lifted her high above his head. “Hi baby. Why do you look so sad? Why don’t you smile for Daddy?”
In a blink, her tears dried and she beamed, flapping her little hands through the air. “Copper. Copper!”
“She means play helicopter,” Deak explained, swooping her through the air and making her squeal.
Nick had to grin. “She’s pretty cute when she’s not losing her shit. I mean, stuff,” he said at Deak’s glance.
“Just you wait. Soon-to-be married man and all.” Deak grinned. “Have I said I never thought I’d see the day?”
“You and me both.” The only reason his feet were cold was because he was standing in about sixteen feet of snow. That twenty-thousand feet had trampled it down seemed to have little effect.
“Congratulations again, man. Lila’s great.”
“Thanks. She is. No comment she’s too great for me?”
“Nah. I think you suit each other just fine. Besides, she knows what she’s about. She wouldn’t have hooked up with you if she wasn’t sure you were worth it.”
“Yeah. You’re right.” Smiling, Nick patted his arm, currently full of cooing toddler. She’d certainly brightened up right quick when she’d eyed her daddy.
Kind of sweet.
Nick stepped away. “I’m just going to go—”
The snowball hit him square in the face, knocking his hat right off his head. He sputtered snow out of his mouth, his eyes narrowing as he saw the jackass responsible.
“Kagan,” he growled.
Simon wasn’t exactly trying to be circumspect. He’d decided to play king of the mountain an
d ascended a giant ball of snow. Even now, he was crafting his next weapon.
Heavy on the ice. Jerk.
“Whoops, sorry. I didn’t see you over there.”
“Simon, come down here,” Margo demanded.
“Why don’t you come up here? I’m the king. You can be my queen, if you play your cards right.”
“Because I don’t want to get all—”
“Sorry, baby!” Simon lobbed his next missile at her and she squealed, not unlike Lexi. But the bending over and creating her own implement of mass destruction was all her.
Good job, Margo.
While Simon had been busy harassing his almost-wife, Nick had packed together a snow weapon of his own.
“Wow, low blow, Kagan,” Nick called out, waiting until Simon glanced his way to aim and fire.
Direct hit.
Then Margo let hers fly, and Simon grunted and flailed his arms, losing his footing. “Oh shit!” And his ass fell right off his mountain. Into a snowbank.
The ball at the top of Simon’s ski hat bobbled in the snow then disappeared.
Laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe, Nick bent at the waist to grip his knees.
Damn, he was having fun.
20
Lila
Lila stared out the front door at the manic snow war with her belly full of breakfast and counted backward how many days she was late.
Since she was on the pill, her periods were light and sometimes inconsistent. She occasionally missed one, and no big deal. She took her pill religiously. Like to the minute practically. She’d never missed even once, so she wasn’t worried.
Exactly.
Her Healthwise phone app had chimed this morning when she’d been in that land between asleep and awake, and she’d fumbled for it to see a reminder that she was a week overdue.
That was on top of not getting one at all last month.
But she wasn’t even concerned. Statistically, the chances she could’ve gotten knocked up were so small that they weren’t even worth listing. They hadn’t been in the baby-making room long enough for it to work, and last month when it could’ve happened—if it had—would’ve had to be in a window where she wasn’t anywhere near the preggo palace.