Christmas in Lucky Harbor

by Jill Shalvis

  “I spent time out here as a kid. Once, with Ford and Sawyer, I TP’d the entire place.”

  It didn’t surprise her that he’d had a wild youth. She suspected he’d had a wild everything. “You did?”

  “Yeah, and Sawyer’s father beat the shit out of us when he found out, and then turned us over to your grandpa. Instead of handing out our second ass-kicking of the night, he made us clean up our handiwork and paint the entire inn. He was a good guy.” He flicked his gaze to the cottage, and she followed his line of sight to where both Chloe and Tara stood inside, staring out the window.

  “They don’t look very happy,” he noted.

  “Yes, I tend to have that effect on people.”

  His callused hand slowly slid up her back. When she started because she was looking out the Jeep window and not expecting the touch, he very gently touched the back of her neck. Warmth engulfed her.

  “I don’t know,” he murmured very quietly. “You did a decent number on me tonight.” His thumb swept over her nape, urging her to look at him.

  One of them leaned in, she wasn’t sure who, but suddenly her hands were on his chest and his hands were sliding up her arms, pulling her in as close as she could get with the console between them. “My sisters—”

  “Can’t see inside the Jeep.” He kissed her once, and then again—small, brushing kisses that weren’t enough, not even close, but when she heard a soft moan and realized it was hers, she pulled back.

  “Yeah,” Jax said, studying her intently. “I like this look on you a lot better.”

  “What look?”

  “Heat. Desire. Not fear.”

  It took her a second for the words to register. When they did, she turned to open the door to get out, but he gently pulled her back and kissed her again, deep and hot. Her eyes drifted shut as she gave herself over to it, to him, and what he made her feel. He was such a good kisser, and his taste, his touch, his scent, the heat off his body—it all combined together so that she couldn’t talk herself out of having this moment. She needed this moment. She deserved this moment, and, giving herself permission to enjoy it, she slid her hands over every part of him that she could reach, absorbing the groan of approval that rumbled from his throat.

  “Haven’t made out in a car in a damn long time,” he said when they broke apart, his voice low and gravelly.

  “Me either.” In fact, she wasn’t sure she’d ever made out in a car. She looked around. “We steamed up the windows.”

  He slid a hand over her shoulder, up her throat, his thumb skimming her pulse point. “We steamed up a lot of things.”

  Yes. Her body was humming with it. She ran her gaze down his body, past his broad chest, the flat abs she wanted to lick, and the button fly of his Levi’s, which were strained over an intriguingly large bulge. Her gaze flew to his, which was both scorching hot and just a tad bit amused.

  “I have to go in.” But she didn’t move. Well, actually, she did. She moved to give his mouth better access to her throat, which he took full advantage of, his lips rubbing slowly back and forth over her skin. “B-before they… Oh, God,” she whispered. “Before they come out here to investigate.”

  He had a hand at her waist, beneath his jacket and her sweatshirt, his fingers gliding over the bare skin of her belly, and she let out a shaking breath. “You’re going to have to take your hands off me, or…”

  He met her gaze, his eyes dark and heated. “Or?”

  Or she was going to crawl over the console and straddle him. “You don’t play fair.”

  “I don’t. You should remember that.”

  Telling her body to behave, she extricated herself from both his hands and the Jeep. “Thanks for the ride.”

  And the kiss…

  He opened his door. “I’ll walk you in—”

  “No, don’t.” She didn’t want to explain this. She dashed out of the Jeep and made her way up the rickety porch, but the door opened before she’d reached it.

  Chloe stood there, a small smile on her lips as she peered past Maddie at the Jeep. “Who’s that?”

  Maddie watched the brake lights of the Jeep as it vanished into the night. “Jax Cullen. And that’s all I know,” she said before Chloe could ask anything else.

  Well, except that he had a voice that went down like smooth whiskey, a way of looking at her that tended to get her to say more than she should, and oh, yeah, he kissed like heaven on earth.

  “I want a Jax,” Chloe said.

  “You didn’t even see him.”

  “No, but I can see the look he put on your face plain enough. Nice jacket.”

  “I forgot to give it back.” Maddie, Maddie, Maddie, she told herself. That’s a big fat lie. You didn’t forget. You wanted the excuse to see him again.

  “I drove through town three times,” Chloe said. “I never found a Jax.”

  Maddie slid her a look. Perfect dark red shiny hair. Cute, sexy clothes. Tight, toned body. An arresting face with piercing green eyes that said Trouble with a capital T, and that she was worth it. “There’s no way you have a hard time attracting men.”

  “It’s not the attracting that’s the problem. You ever try to have sex with a third wheel in the bed?”

  “Um, no,” Maddie admitted. “I’ve never—”

  “I meant my asthma,” Chloe said dryly. “But good to know how your mind works. My asthma is the third person in my bed. And it usually kicks ass.”

  “You mean you can’t—”

  “Not in mixed company, or I end up needing an ambulance for the ensuing asthma attack.” She sighed. “I really miss co-partnered orgasms.”

  “Oh, my God, will you get over the no-orgasm thing?” Tara said, coming up behind them. “Some of us never get them.”

  “Never? But you’re married.”

  “Okay, so never might be an exaggeration. The point is, there are more important things than sex.”

  “Name one,” Chloe said.

  Tara lifted a bottle of wine.

  “A close second,” Chloe admitted. They moved through the living room as the wind rattled at the living room windows. The shag carpet had once been some sort of blue but had faded to a dingy gray, looking like a dead lawn that hadn’t been watered in two decades.

  “The place needs Christmas decorations,” Chloe decided. “And a tree.”

  Maddie plopped down on the faded blue quilted couch and a huge cloud of dust arose. Chloe joined her, immediately drawing the neck of her shirt over her mouth and nose to protect herself. “And possibly a fumigation.”

  Tara shook her head and pulled Chloe off the couch. “Kitchen. The dust in here will kill you, sugar.”

  Maddie followed her two sisters, musing on the odd dynamic between them. Tara clearly cared while pretending not to. Chloe soaked up that caring like a love-starved child, while also pretending not to. As for Maddie, she had no idea where she fit in, or even if she could.

  A loose shutter slapped against the side of the house and made her jump. The lights flickered off and then, after a long hesitation, back on again.

  The three of them grabbed each other’s hands and eyed the kitchen. It looked like the one in the inn, minus the table and many square feet. They sat hip to hip on the Formica counter. Tara poured the wine, handing a glass to Maddie, then poured one for herself.

  “Hello,” Chloe said, holding out her hand for a glass. “What am I, chopped liver?”

  “Too young,” Tara said.

  “I’m past legal by three years!”

  “Do you need a bra to keep your boobs from falling?” Tara asked. “Do you need a pair of Spanx to keep the tire hidden?”

  “Tire?”

  “Yes, the tire, the spare tire around the middle that doesn’t go away in spite of a rigorous workout regime.” Tara gestured to her stomach, which in Maddie’s opinion looked damn fine. She’d like to have a “tire” like that.

  And probably she could, if she gave up chips.

  “Do you get hot flashes that ke
ep you up at night? Then you’re not old enough to drink.”

  Chloe rolled her eyes and snatched a glass for herself anyway. “You know, you have some serious anger issues. And resentment issues. And holier-than-thou issues.”

  Maddie braced for the yelling. “Listen—”

  “Excuse me?” Tara tossed back her wine and poured another, topping off Maddie while she was at it as she whirled on Chloe. “Holier than thou?”

  “If the shoe fits,” Chloe said. “Sugar.”

  “Never mind, Miss Perky Boobs. I’ll talk to you when you’re sober.”

  “And I’ll talk to you when you’re not a bitch.”

  “Yeah, well, that might be a while,” Tara said.

  Chloe shook her head. “And for the record, you’re thirty-four, Tara, not seventy-two.”

  Maddie snatched the wine bottle, because it was going to be that kind of a night.

  “And another thing,” Chloe said, taking the bottle from Maddie. “Maddie’s boobs are just as perky as mine.”

  Everyone looked at Maddie’s breasts. They were full C’s, and the only reason they were anywhere even close to perky was thanks to her clearance sale push-up bra. She blew out a breath and looked at her empty wineglass. “I should stop now. Beer and wine don’t mix well.”

  Tara looked at her empty glass, then over at the garbage can, confused. “How did I miss the beer?”

  “She drank with Hot Guy,” Chloe said.

  “Hey.” Maddie tried to find the indignation but had some trouble working around the alcohol. “He has a name.”

  “What is it?” Tara wanted to know.

  “It’s a really, really, really good name.”

  “Can you even remember it?” Tara asked wryly. “Or did he suck your memory out along with your tongue?”

  No, but he’d sure had a nice tongue. “His name’s Jax. Jax Cullen.”

  Tara choked on her wine.

  “Know him?” Maddie asked.

  Tara set her glass aside and tipped the bottle to her mouth, taking a long time to answer. “How would I know him?” She dabbed delicately at the corners of her mouth. “And what do you see in this guy anyway?”

  Chloe held up her hands about ten inches apart.

  At that, it was Maddie’s turn to choke. “I didn’t sleep with him! I gave up men,” she added much more weakly. “And anyway, penises that size don’t really exist.”

  “Then why did you come in grinning?”

  Maddie sighed. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a tattletale?”

  “Always has been,” Tara said. “Once when I was fifteen and sneaking out the back door, Chloe told Mom on me. I was grounded for the rest of the summer.”

  Chloe grinned. “Good times.”

  Maddie had lived with Phoebe only until she’d gotten pregnant with Chloe. After that, Maddie’s father had taken custody. Maddie had visited during vacations or whenever her father couldn’t have her with him at work, but it hadn’t been often. As a result, she had only sparse memories of her sisters. But Tara had spent most summers with Phoebe and Chloe.

  “Where were we that summer?” Chloe asked Tara. “Northern California somewhere, right? In that trailer Mom rented on some river with friends?”

  Tara nodded. “Sounds about right.”

  “You wouldn’t take me with you wherever you were sneaking off to. That’s why I told on you.”

  “You were a baby!”

  “I was five. And I wanted to be fifteen like you.”

  And Maddie wanted memories with them.

  Tara sighed and leaned back. “I completely wasted fifteen. Youth is wasted on the young.”

  Chloe snorted.

  “I’m not kidding!” Tara said. “If I was fifteen again, I’d definitely know what to do with it now.”

  “Really,” Chloe said with disbelief heavy in her voice.

  “Really.”

  Outside, the wind battered the windows, the storm in full swing. They all paused and glanced uneasily out into the dark night. “I hated being fifteen,” Maddie said quietly, feeling the wine. “The doubts, the lack of confidence, the despair.” And damn if much had changed. She sighed and held out her glass for more wine. Tara obligingly topped her off again.

  “If you’re having what-ifs,” Chloe said, “you’re still wasting life.”

  “Not me.” Maddie shook her head. “I’m not wasting anything, not ever again. I’m on a new life’s lease. I’m starting over.” She emphasized this with a wild swing of her glass. Wine splashed out over her hand, and she licked it off. “No more letting anyone speak for me, roll over me, step on me, slap me…”

  The shattering silence that followed this statement sobered her up a little. “See, this,” she said. “This is why I shouldn’t drink.” Ignoring the startled look exchanged between her sisters, she held out her glass. She definitely needed a refill.

  But Tara gently took it away. “Somebody hit you?” she asked softly.

  “Slapped.” Big difference. A slap was humiliating and hurtful, but it wasn’t like he’d punched her. Or caused her real harm. Well, except for that last time, when the corner of a cabinet had broken her fall, requiring stitches just outside of her eye. But hey, she was single now. All was good. Or as good as it could be.

  “Maddie—”

  “It’s over and done.” She dropped her head and studied her shoes. Sneakers, scuffed and battered. That had to be symbolic somehow, she thought unhappily.

  Chloe was wearing cute ankle boots, not a scratch on them.

  Tara was wearing stylish heels, so shiny they could have been used as a mirror.

  “I need new shoes,” she said out loud.

  Chloe reached out and squeezed her hand. “New shoes rock,” she whispered, sounding like her throat was too tight.

  Maddie squeezed her fingers back while her wine-soaked thoughts rambled in her head, not quite readily available for download. “Oh! I forgot to show you guys something.” She pulled the recipe box from her bag and told them about Lucille. She flipped through for a random card. “Bad decisions make good stories,” she read.

  “Lord,” Tara said.

  “Not ‘bless her heart’?” Chloe asked, grinning until a gust of wind hit so hard that the entire house shuddered.

  This was followed by a thundering BOOM. The ground shook, the lights flickered, and all three of them jumped.

  “Holy shit.” Chloe scooted over on the counter until she was right up against Tara, nearly in her lap.

  Maddie hopped down and opened the back door, flicking on a flashlight that didn’t do much for cutting into the utter blackness of the night.

  “Where did that flashlight come from?” Chloe asked.

  “My purse.”

  Chloe looked at Tara. “She carries a flashlight in her purse.”

  “For emergencies,” Maddie said, trying to see into the yard.

  “You have any chocolate?” Chloe asked hopefully. “For emergencies?”

  “Of course. Side pocket, next to the fork.”

  “You’re good,” Tara murmured, holding out her hand for some.

  “Are you of age?” Chloe asked snidely.

  Tara growled, and Chloe hastily handed her a piece.

  “You are a lifesaver,” Tara said to Maddie, who smiled. She’d learned at work to be prepared for anything and everything. She’d never given it a second thought, but sensing her sisters’ relief, and maybe just a little bit of admiration, as well, felt good.

  Even if they were chomping on her secret chocolate stash.

  But she’d always wanted a true family, wanted to be counted on. Oh, she loved her dad, and he loved her, but she had always yearned for more.

  That her family could be here after all this time, right here in front of her, gave her a warm fuzzy in spite of the frigid, windy night, slapping her in the face as she started outside. Sweeping her flashlight from right to left, Maddie stopped when she came to the newly fallen tree bisecting the yard. “We lost a tree,” s
he called back to her sisters. “A big one.”

  “Come back before one of them falls on your head,” Tara called out.

  Maddie kept going until she stood where the very top of the fallen pine tree had landed, trapping a scrawny baby pine tree beneath it. And damn if the sight didn’t break her heart. It took her a moment to free it, and then she hoisted the tree into her arms, turning back to the porch, where both her sisters still stood.

  “Found us a Christmas tree,” she said.

  Chapter 6

  “Obeying the rules might be smart,

  but it’s not nearly as much fun.”

  PHOEBE TRAEGER

  They decorated the tree with what they had on hand, which turned out to be some kitchen items and a string of chili pepper lights left over from what Chloe claimed to remember as a wild block party in the nineties.

  Tara found a stack of twenty-year-old National Enquirers. “Phoebe’s gospel,” she said with a fond smile, holding up one with Mel Gibson on the cover. She cut out the picture and hung it on a branch. “What?” she said when Chloe and Maddie just stared at her. “I’d do him.”

  “You do realize he no longer looks like that, right?” Chloe asked.

  “Hey, my fantasy.”

  They spent the next half hour drinking another bottle of wine and cutting out pictures of all the guys they’d “do.” Turned out there were quite a few. Maddie claimed Luke Perry and Jason Priestley—pre all their horrible movie-of-the-week specials. Chloe went for the boy bands. All of them.

  “It can’t be just a hottie tree,” Tara decided.

  Chloe nodded and hung a serving spoon, then cocked her head to study it critically, moving it over an inch like she was creating the Mona Lisa. “I once dated a guy who had a face like this serving spoon. He was ugly as hell, but man, oh, man, could he kiss. He gave me a nightly asthma attack for the entire week we dated.” She sighed dreamily. “Ugly men make good lovers.”

  “Logan’s gorgeous and good in bed,” Tara said. “What does that mean?”

  “Um, that you’re lucky to be married to him?” Chloe asked.

  “No.” Tara shook her head with careful exaggeration. “Gorgeous men are flawed. Seriously flawed.”