by Amy Andrews
If anybody had told her the first time she’d clapped eyes on Reid that this big, bearded, tattooed lumberjack of a guy was good and kind and decent, she wouldn’t have believed it. But he’d proved her wrong at every turn.
She glanced at him. ‘Okay. Thank you.’
He gave a brief nod of acknowledgement then hauled himself out of the chair and out of reach.
* * *
The first of December arrived. It was hot and sticky, a storm was brewing but Eddie, Reid and Oscar paid that no heed as they went out and bought the biggest Christmas tree they could find.
They’d picked him up from school and taken him to a farm on the outskirts of the city where they sold fresh trees. It was a male bonding experience, Reid had insisted in a big gruff lumberjack voice, which had made Oscar laugh and Trinity go a little weak below her belly button.
The fact Reid looked as if he spent all day chopping down trees with a giant axe only added to the weakness.
The guys walked through the door at six in the evening with the biggest tree Trinity had ever seen in her life. It stood a foot higher than Reid—at least.
‘I picked it, Mummy,’ Oscar announced, his chest puffing out as Trinity wondered how in hell they were going to get it through the door.
They managed and it fitted perfectly in the living room with its raked ceiling.
‘Can we decorate it now?’
Oscar hopped from foot to foot, utterly beside himself with excitement. ‘Sure thing, little dude,’ Reid said and they fist-bumped. ‘You’ll need to give me a hand with the lights first though. They have to go on before everything else.’
‘I’ll get the music,’ Eddie volunteered.
Bing Crosby crooned from the sound system as the tree took shape from plain green foliage to a sparkly, tinselled, beribboned, glorious mishmash.
Oscar had been given the responsibility of decorating all the lower branches to where he could reach and Trinity and Reid had decorated the top branches. The tree was, consequently, a little unbalanced. Trinity had tried to subtly encourage Oscar to spread things out and stop him from using all the ornaments.
It wasn’t, after all, their tree.
But Eddie had said, ‘Nonsense,’ and knelt down to help Oscar pile on some more.
Trinity was sure window decorators all around the world were probably dropping into dead faints but she’d never seen anything more messily beautiful than this tree.
‘And now, young sir,’ Eddie said, pulling a star out of a battered box. It looked crazed with age and fragile. ‘My wife and I bought this on our honeymoon at the Christmas markets in Vienna over fifty years ago. Would you like to do the honour?’
Oscar stared at the huge golden ornament with wonder. ‘Yes, please,’ he said on a reverent whisper.
‘Here, little dude.’ Reid picked him up and hoisted Oscar onto his shoulders, his skinny little legs either side of Reid’s neck. He took the star from Eddie then handed it up to Oscar.
‘Be very careful,’ Trinity murmured, her heart in her mouth as she watched in trepidation the fragile family heirloom change hands.
‘There you go,’ Reid said as he stood close to the tree and tipped forward slightly. ‘Put it on top, there.’
Trinity’s chest just about exploded at the picture before her. Oscar, his face serious, his tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth in concentration. Reid, one hand on Oscar’s back, the other on a thigh, holding him firmly, his confidence that her son was capable of the honour sitting Oscar a little taller.
They looked good together. Like father and son. Her heart squeezed painfully. This was the kind of life Oscar deserved. Bing Crosby singing carols. Heirlooms.
Family.
‘Merry Christmas, Mummy,’ Oscar said.
Trinity blinked out of her reverie to find Oscar and Reid facing her. His hands hung on around Reid’s neck now, one little finger absently stroking the scratchiness of Reid’s beard.
‘Merry Christmas, Oscar,’ she said, her heart filled to bursting.
‘Thank you,’ she mouthed to Reid.
He smiled and set Oscar down.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
TWO WEEKS LATER, with no word from an agency, Trinity had resigned herself to waiting until the new year to find a place to live. But that was moot right now as she sat in Oscar’s school hall with Reid and Eddie, watching Oscar’s class perform ‘Jingle Bells’ at the Christmas concert.
School would be over in a few days but for now the students were singing their little hearts out. The hall had been decorated in tinsel and fairy lights and all the classes would be performing tonight.
Trinity was hyperaware of Reid sitting next to her. They were sitting on plastic chairs jammed close together so they were shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. They might not have been had he not been so big and broad, but he was and they were. The heat of his leg through the thin fabric of her Christmas dress was very distracting.
Yes. A dress. She’d seen it in the local op shop window and had decided, for the first time in a long time, to splurge on something for her. It had been brand new, the label still attached, but had only cost ten dollars. It was red with shoestring straps, a sweetheart neckline, fitted bodice and an A-line skirt that swished around her thighs. It came to just below her knee, and encircling the hem was a cherry and holly leaves motif.
It had been love at first sight.
She’d even gone to a hair salon known for its budget prices and had a good couple of inches chopped off as well as some layers cut in around her face. The woman had even used the hair straightener to add some curls.
Between the dress and the hair she’d spent fifty dollars but she felt like a freaking princess.
A guilty twinge about spending money on herself had spoilt things a little but she had quite a nest egg now and she knew the other parents would be dressing up tonight. She didn’t want to wear something ill-fitting and old. She didn’t want to look poor.
She didn’t want to embarrass Oscar either.
Or that was what she’d told herself. The fact that Reid had done a double take and stared at her when she’d come down the stairs had been a bonus.
‘Doesn’t Mummy look pretty, Reid?’ Oscar had said.
And he’d looked at her glossed-up mouth as he had that day he’d kissed her in the pantry and said, ‘She does indeed, little dude.’
Butterflies fluttered in her belly just thinking about it now.
The song came to an end and the applause was instantaneous. Oscar grinned at her from the stage, wiping a hand across his runny nose. Other parents might have been embarrassed by the action but it caused a much more visceral reaction in Trinity.
Ever since it had started a few days ago, she’d been on edge about it. Waiting for the roller coaster to begin. For the fever to start, for the lethargy to set in. Poised to whisk him off to hospital at the first sign of his condition worsening.
She’d checked on him half a dozen times the last few nights. Oscar had decided last week that he did want his own room. Because Raymond had one. But with the development of this sniffle she wished he were still in with her.
He’d been fine though—so far. No temps or malaise. No croaky voice or cough or wheeze. No telling her he didn’t feel well. Just a clear runny nose that hadn’t seemed to bother him in the least.
Normally he would have crashed into a heap by now. But he’d been bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Energetic and bubbly, excited about Christmas and having some play dates with Raymond over the holidays.
Trinity had begun to hope that he was over the worst of his prematurity and his lungs were now big enough and strong enough to cope with a sniffle or two.
That truly would be a Christmas miracle.
Two hours later they were home after the concert and Reid
was banging a nail into the front door to hang the wreath Oscar had made at school. It looked cheap and childish amongst the posh neighbourhood wreaths but Reid treated it as if it had been bought from Harrods.
‘That,’ Reid proclaimed, standing back to admire Oscar’s creation, ‘is the most awesome wreath I have seen. Best in the street, don’t you reckon, Pops?’
Eddie nodded. ‘The best ever.’
Oscar stood a foot taller and Trinity wanted to cry. These two guys were so good for him. Something, somewhere had been smiling on her the day she’d run off those thugs.
‘Okay.’ She clapped her hands. ‘Time for bed.’
Trinity expected resistance. She didn’t think Oscar would—could—go to sleep after all the excitement. He’d been on such a high all day. But he went happily and was out like a light as soon as his head hit the pillow. She smiled, snapping off his lamp and kissing his forehead.
A prickle of anxiety needled her at its warmth but she gave herself a shake. It was warm. Not hot. Not feverish.
He was fine.
And the fact she had a doctor in the house was even more reassuring.
She paused at his door for one last look before leaving it slightly ajar and went downstairs. She made three cups of coffee, one each for Reid and Eddie, who were watching Carols by Candlelight on the television, and one for her, which she took outside to her favourite spot—the love seat.
Trinity swung idly, a smile on her lips, her thoughts full of the concert and Oscar’s delight at being involved. It was as tranquil as ever out here. The night filled with the promise of Christmas. That intangible change in the atmosphere that infected everything and everyone as the big day approached.
She hummed ‘Jingle Bells’ to herself and smiled some more.
She didn’t know how long she sat outside. A long time. The night was gorgeous and it seemed fitting to be out here thanking her lucky stars for the position she was in right now. Plus, she didn’t want to take her dress off just yet. It was so nice to feel female for a night, she was loath to bring it to an end.
There was also a vague churn of restlessness inside her. The heat in Reid’s gaze tonight had been unsettling, stirring up things she’d been trying to suppress. There was no way her body was in a state to sleep just yet.
At some stage the television noises cut out and a minute later the back door was sliding open.
‘I thought I’d find you out here.’ His low voice carried to her easily on the night.
Goose bumps swept from her nape all the way down her spine. The churn kicked up a notch. The swing rocked as he sat beside her, closer than he usually did. It was still a respectable distance away but her body was so in tune to him.
The churn went into overdrive.
He was still in the trousers and dress shirt he’d worn to the concert, his hair slicked back with some kind of product rather than just pushed messily back off his forehead. She’d never seen him so formal. But even all dressed up, wearing the same kind of clothes as the other men at the concert tonight, there was still something...untamed about him.
Maybe it was the beard. Maybe it was the tats beneath that very respectable shirt. Maybe it was those lumberjack shoulders testing the limits of the seams.
Whatever it was, she hadn’t been the only one who’d noticed. He’d turned heads.
‘That was a great night,’ he said, taking over the motion of the swing with his foot.
She glanced at him and smiled. ‘Yes,’ she murmured before turning back to contemplate the night again. They sat in companionable silence for a few moments.
‘You look beautiful tonight.’
Trinity blinked, startled at his husky compliment. Her pulse quickened. No one had ever called her beautiful. Not even Bri. He’d told her she was cute and had used words like mighty fine. But never beautiful. It seemed like a much deeper compliment. More measured. More meaningful.
The kind of compliment a man would give.
‘Oh...thank you.’ She swallowed, suddenly conscious of the lip gloss she’d slicked on and the curls in her hair. ‘You don’t scrub up too badly yourself.’
She’d kept her voice light, his low chuckle feathering down her arms.
‘That’s a great outfit you’re wearing.’
Trinity glanced down at herself. ‘It’s just a dress.’
‘That is not just a dress.’ His eyes raked over her, taking in her hair and her cleavage and the fall of the fabric over her legs. Everything tingled in their wake. ‘That’s like...a walking advert for Christmas. Red looks good on you.’
His compliments were going to her head. And other parts of her body. Warmth stole into her cheeks. Heat flared between her legs.
‘You should wear more clothes like that.’
This conversation was dicing pretty close to the wind as far as their attraction went but Trinity didn’t seem to be able to help herself around him.
And he’d started it.
‘Like what? Dresses?’
‘No, I mean things that aren’t two sizes too big for you or hang like a sack.’
‘I don’t deliberately buy them like that,’ she said waspishly. ‘I’ve had most of my clothes a long time and I’ve lost weight in the last five years. I haven’t been able to afford to buy new ones so I’ve just...made do.’
‘How much weight?’
The question was fired back at her, a wrinkle drawing his brows together. Obviously it had come from Reid the doctor.
‘A couple of dress sizes.’
He nodded, thoughtful for a moment. ‘You don’t splash out on yourself much, do you?’
Trinity fingered the dress. ‘This is it.’
‘Well, you should never take it off,’ he said, a grin on his face and in his voice as he dragged his eyes off her. ‘It’s your turn now to say how a respectable doctor should be wearing more of these kinds of clothes.’ He pulled at his shirt with a disdainful curl to his lips.
‘Fishing for compliments?’ she teased. Her breath hitching at how easy he was to tease.
‘Maybe.’
Trinity shook her head. The urge to stroke the front of his shirt, to feel the fabric and the muscles beneath, was surprisingly strong. ‘I like what you wear.’
He turned his head to look at her, clearly surprised at her admission. ‘Do you, now?’
It was on the tip of Trinity’s tongue to say, Especially when you’re mowing, but she dragged her gaze away, returning her attention to the stars, not willing to give too much away.
They lapsed into silence again. Nothing but the squeak of the swing between them.
‘Did you see that kid tonight in the back row pick his nose during “Silent Night”?’
Trinity pressed her lips together to stop the threatening laughter. ‘Yes.’
He didn’t bother to suppress it. He laughed into the night, deep and throaty, and she joined him. She’d felt a shudder of silent laughter ripple through Reid’s shoulders at the time and had bit her own cheek to stop from doing likewise but neither of them felt similarly constrained now.
In fact Trinity laughed so hard she almost had tears running down her face.
When their laughter slowly faded they were half turned towards each other and Reid said, ‘Oscar was brilliant though.’
She nodded. ‘Yes. He was.’ Without any thought she reached her hand across and squeezed his arm. The muscle tensed beneath her touch and she quickly withdrew.
‘Thank you,’ she said, ignoring the hammer of her heartbeat to say what had to be said. ‘Just...thank you...from the bottom of my heart. For you and Eddie coming tonight and for hanging the wreath.’ She shook her head, overwhelmed by Reid’s generosity. ‘I’m just so—’
The swift, hot press of his mouth cut her off. It stole her breath and robbed her brai
n of any thought other than yes.
And more.
He kept it brief though, withdrawing as quickly as he had lunged, causing her to almost pitch forward at the abrupt disconnect. She blinked at him, her mouth tingling, her lungs burning as if she’d just run a hundred metres in under ten seconds.
‘Sorry.’ He grimaced. ‘I’ve wanted to do that ever since you walked down the stairs tonight wearing that lip gloss.’
Trinity blinked. ‘Oh.’ She drew in a shaky breath. ‘So...we’re disregarding the line tonight?’
‘Goddamn it,’ he muttered, thunking his head back against the seat cushion, his gaze fixed on the stars. ‘I hate that line. I swear trying to do the right thing is killing me.’
The crazy low rumble of his voice scraped along her nerve endings. She couldn’t believe what he was saying.
‘It doesn’t matter what I do or what I tell myself, I can’t stop thinking about you and then I go to bed and, God...’ He groaned and rolled his head along the cushion to face her. ‘I dream about you. These...erotic dreams that wake me in the middle of the night and I’m so hard for you and then you wear this dress tonight and I swear I’m going to go to hell for kissing you just now but—’
It was Trinity’s turn to kiss him, to cut him off, to feel the prick of his beard and taste the coffee on his breath.
He wanted her. He dreamed about her. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. If he was going to hell then she was going along for the ride.
She didn’t know what that meant for them long term; she didn’t care. She needed this tonight. They both did.
Without any coherent thought she was turning, twisting, sliding a leg over his lap, sending the love seat into a rocking frenzy as she grabbed his shoulders and straddled him.
He groaned and muttered, ‘Trinity,’ against her mouth as her dress flared out over his lap and his hands found the smooth bare skin of her ass.
Trinity ploughed her fingers into his hair as he squeezed her cheeks and everything inside her clenched tight. She was so hot, so wet, so needy.