Christmas in His Bed

by Sasha Summers

  “It’s not too much. I just mean you’re going to make tonight hard on Spencer.” Lucy giggled as she climbed out of the SUV.

  Tatum buttoned up her long black coat, collected her baked goods and followed Lucy up the bricked path to the large door of the Auxiliary Hall. Christmas music poured out the front door, mixed with jingle bells and laughter.

  “Sounds like the party’s already in full swing,” Lucy said as they walked inside.

  Tatum followed, placing her desserts on one of the long covered buffet tables that lined the hall. She tried not to make eye contact with anyone, tried not to let her nerves take root. But she couldn’t exactly be antisocial at a social event.

  “Can I take your coats?” Jared asked.

  “Thanks.” Lucy shrugged out of hers.

  “Tatum?” he asked.

  “Thank you.” She slipped hers off and laid it over his arm.

  He grinned, shaking his head. “Dean and Spencer are already at it, so you know.”

  “At it?” she repeated, cocking a brow.

  “Arguing. Over you.” Jared chuckled as he walked off.

  She barely had time to process Jared’s comment before Lucy clapped her hands over her mouth, a strangled giggle spilling through her fingers.

  Tatum grabbed her arm, following Lucy’s gaze. “Oh my God,” she said before bursting into laughter.

  Something about a man in an ugly Christmas sweater was funny. But seeing two really manly men in skintight pom-pom-covered sweaters—Spencer’s was rigged with blinking lights—was beyond hilarious.

  “Ugly Christmas sweater competition,” Dean explained. His navy blue sweater sported two of the scariest elves Tatum had ever seen. Their huge yellow button eyes, arched brows and creepy grins were certain to give kids nightmares. The fact that they were peeking around a sequined Christmas tree with pointy ice crystal ornaments only added to the whole disconcertingly ominous picture.

  “You’re going to make kids afraid of Santa’s helpers,” Lucy said, smacking her brother. “Parents will be investing in therapy instead of building blocks.”

  “What do you think?” Dean asked Tatum, pointing at his sweater.

  Tatum grimaced. “I’m sort of creeped out.”

  Dean laughed.

  “Runner-up,” Spencer said. “But I’ll give you an A for effort.”

  Tatum took in Spencer’s sweater. Dark green with wide red stitching at the collar and cuffs, a googly-eyed reindeer head smiled at her. Not only did the deer’s red nose glow brightly, but its antlers were decorated with pom-pom ornaments and lights that blinked rapidly. And when he turned around, the reindeer’s rear end was visible. Its white tail swayed side to side, like a dog when it’s happy.

  “Nailed it,” Spencer said.

  Tatum dissolved into laughter again.

  “You haven’t seen Zach yet,” Lucy argued. “Now that he’s got Bianca’s help, he might just give you a run for your money.”

  Spencer waved her words aside, his attention shifting to Tatum—a little too obviously for Tatum’s liking. If he kept looking at her like that, people would know there was something going on between them. It didn’t help that every time he looked at her like that, she immediately started thinking about what was going on between them. How incredible he was with his hands. And his mouth. His amazing rock-hard body. If she kept blushing, she’d be giving the whole town something to talk about.

  “Where’s your sweater?” Dean asked.

  “Didn’t get the memo,” Tatum said, tearing her gaze from Spencer’s. “Besides, you two... I can’t compete with...this.”

  “Damn straight,” Dean agreed.

  Tatum tried not to let the sea of faces distract her. She recognized quite a few, but there was no animosity. Maybe a little open staring. If she could relax a little, she might find she was among friends. After years of self-doubt and second-guessing, she needed to stop looking for reasons to let her insecurity rise up to gnaw at her insides.

  “You look beautiful,” Spencer whispered.

  When he’d made his way to her side, she wasn’t sure. But his heat—his scent—was pure distraction. The kind she didn’t want right now.

  “You shouldn’t look at me like...that.” She glanced up at him.

  His smile was too damn gorgeous, his blue eyes searching hers. “Like what?”

  She blew out a deep breath, flushing beneath the weight of his gaze. “Like...that.”

  “Like I’ve seen you naked?” His voice was low—a tingle-inducing growl.

  “Spencer,” she hissed, her lungs emptying.

  But Spencer was looking beyond her then, a very different smile on his face. She studied him, yearning for the affection and pleasure on his face. Not that she wanted him to look at her that way. No. But the idea of someone looking at her like that, someday, held a very definite appeal. She knew without looking that his brothers had arrived. His brothers, their wives...his family.

  She forced her attention elsewhere. How much time had she spent staring at Spencer Ryan while she was in Greyson? A lot. Too much. And even though his sweater was something of an attention grabber, she should not be staring at him right now. Not here, surrounded by people who’d last seen her sobbing hysterically because of him. The sharp twist of her stomach made her move away from Spencer and toward the table covered in baked goods.

  “Can I help?” she asked Mrs. Ryan.

  “Oh, Tatum, don’t you look lovely?” She paused, then said, “Yes, dear, thank you.” Mrs. Ryan patted her cheek. “If you don’t mind uncovering those wedding cookies...and shifting that tray from the table’s edge.”

  Tatum did, straightening the other items for sale.

  “Drink?” Dean arrived, offering her a glass of white wine. “You look like a Christmas present. All ready to be unwrapped.”

  She snorted her wine.

  He laughed, handing her a napkin. “Sorry.”

  She shook her head, patting her chin and mouth. “I’m not really sure how to respond to that. Thank you?”

  He nodded, toasting her with his glass.

  “Stop being sleazy, Dean.” Lucy grabbed her arm, tugging her across the room to the newest arrival. “Come meet Cady and Bianca.”

  “Cady, Bianca, this is Tatum.” Lucy made the introductions.

  “I’ve heard so much about you,” Bianca said, hugging her. “You’re lovely.”

  Cady exchanged a quick smile with Bianca, her large eyes sweeping Tatum from head to foot. “It’s nice to meet you.” She nudged Patton.

  Patton’s hug was awkward and brief. “Welcome back, Tatum.”

  “Thanks, Patton.”

  “Hey, Tatum,” Zach said, hugging her. “Glad you’re home.”

  “It’s nice to be back,” Tatum said. “Congratulations to both of you. Well, all of you.” She ignored the hollow ache in her stomach at the clear adoration both Zach and Patton had for their partners.

  “Oh, hell no.” Zach’s surprised laughter drew all eyes. “You didn’t?”

  Spencer was behind her, grinning from ear to ear. His reindeer’s nose blinked brightly.

  “I told you I was going to own it this year,” Spencer said. “Where’s yours?”

  Bianca sighed, rolling her eyes, as Zach shrugged out of his coat. He looked like he was wearing a Christmas tree, complete with needles, tinsel, ornaments and, yes, lights.

  “That can’t be comfortable,” Spencer said.

  “As long as I win,” Zach said, draping an arm along Bianca’s shoulders.

  Bianca leaned away. “You’re poking me.” She giggled. “And making me itch.”

  “Sorry, babe.” Zach took her hand in his. “Way to sport the evil possessed elves there, coz.”

  Everyone laughed then.

&nb
sp; It was good, to be included—to laugh. There was an easy camaraderie among the men that managed to include the rest of them. And while Tatum tried to keep her distance from Spencer and Dean, Lucy made sure to stick to her side.

  Somehow having a wingman made her reintroduction to Greyson easier.

  When the dessert auction was done and the dancing was under way, Tatum helped the other women tidying up the kitchen. How her profession became the focus of conversation, she wasn’t sure. But the three of them were spouting off all sorts of options.

  “I think you should open your own office,” Lucy was saying. “You’ve got the qualifications. I know a lot of women would welcome working with someone other than George Welch.”

  “Would you handle small business accounts?” Bianca asked.

  “Yes,” Tatum said. “I could—”

  “Then I would hire you,” Bianca cut in. “My cousin Celeste and I. That leaves more time for her to bake fancy tea cakes and for me to make the perfect floral arrangements for special occasions. We’d love to hand over our books to you. And I like the idea of women supporting women. A professional sisterhood, if you will.”

  “See,” Lucy said, stacking up Tupperware dishes and covered cake plates.

  “It’s an idea,” Tatum agreed.

  “What other options do you have?” Cady was sitting on the counter, her shoes on the floor. “What’s your plan?”

  “Cady’s all about a plan,” Bianca murmured.

  “What’s wrong with planning?” Cady asked.

  “I don’t have one.” Tatum shrugged. “Not yet. Only one real job possibility, in California.”

  “California?” Lucy asked, pausing.

  Why were the three of them looking at her like that? “Yes. San Diego.”

  “San Diego is so expensive,” Cady said.

  “And there are earthquakes,” Bianca joined in.

  “It is a little far away.” Lucy forced a smile.

  Tatum glanced at each of them, surprised by their immediate objections. “Maybe the job will pay really well. And, yes, there are earthquakes occasionally, but there are tornadoes here. It might be a trek, but that’s why there are airplanes. San Diego would be a great place to visit.”

  “Yes, of course.” Lucy’s quick response was forced.

  And as the others made their way back to the table the Ryans were occupying, Tatum lingered by the refreshments. While she appreciated Lucy’s determination to keep her involved, she didn’t want to intrude.

  Intrude. She heard Spencer’s voice and glanced his way.

  He was smiling at her, a brow cocked, as if he knew what she was thinking.

  Her eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms over her chest, staying put.

  He placed his beer on the table and stood, making his way to her—sending a rush of pure delight through her.

  “Dance?” he asked.

  She shook her head. That would be a very bad idea.

  “I can behave.”

  “Maybe I can’t.” She looked at his mouth.

  She was rewarded with the jump of his jaw muscle. “I say we make this evening more interesting.”

  She shook her head again.

  “Me or Dean,” Spencer said. “He’s coming this way.”

  “Fine,” she said, letting him lead her onto the dance floor. Tatum grinned at the blinking reindeer nose before he held her in a loose embrace.

  “I’d hold you closer, but I wouldn’t want to short out,” he said.

  She giggled, gasping as he spun her around. She had no idea he could dance. High school dances had been an excuse to hop around or slow dance, nothing like this. But he knew what he was doing. While she was hanging on and trying to keep up.

  “Take up ballroom dancing?” she asked, stunned.

  “A mom-required event.” His gaze fell to her mouth. “Just hold on to me.”

  Her insides quivered. “I am.”

  The song blurred into another, a slow rendition of “What Child Is This?” It was a perfect slow dance song, the perfect excuse for him to pull her closer. “You might short out,” she murmured, all too aware of the effect his nearness was having on her. And she knew what she was doing to him too.

  A quick assessment told her there weren’t many couples on the dance floor.

  “It’s fine.” His voice was rough, pulling her eyes back to him.

  “No, it’s not,” she whispered even as his fingers splayed across her back, his palm pulling her close.

  “We’re just dancing,” he assured her.

  She forced her gaze down, the flicker of his sweater lights making her grin. Maybe she was taking this a little too seriously. Maybe his response to her wasn’t visible.

  “I admit, I like holding you,” he murmured softly. “You feel good.”

  “Your lightbulb is poking me in the stomach,” she lied, adding, “It’s hot.” It wasn’t, but she was getting there.

  He eased his hold on her. “My lightbulb, huh?”

  She giggled. “Yes, your lightbulb.”

  “It’s been called a lot of things, but...”

  It took her a while to stop laughing. By then the music was over and he was leading her to their table. Lucy squeezed over so they could share a chair.

  “Almost sweater time,” Jared said, pointing at Dean and Zach by the steps leading to the stage.

  “Time to kick some butt.” Spencer was all smiles as he headed to the stage.

  She tried not to stare at his ass. Horrible sweater aside, his black trousers made up for it.

  “I talked to the one real-estate office in town and a dentist, Dr. Maria Klein.” Cady slid two cards across the table to her. “Here. They’d love to speak to you about becoming their accountant. And Mrs. Monroe.” Cady touched Tatum’s hand, then pointed out the black-haired matron. “She said she’d be happy to use you. She owns a shop on the main square selling...” She looked at Patton.

  “Kitchen stuff.” He shrugged.

  “Which you should know, Cady dear, since the two of you should have registered there already. It went out in the invitations.” Mrs. Ryan sighed. “You two.”

  Cady grinned at her future mother-in-law. “I’ll drag him there tomorrow.”

  “Joy,” Patton muttered.

  “Come on, Aunt Imogene, be happy this is happening,” Lucy said. “Patton was fine with Cady’s idea of eloping.”

  Mrs. Ryan groaned and covered her face with both hands.

  “One of the hotels Zach manages had a wedding cancel at the beginning of the month. Cady and Patton stepped in, making everyone happy.” Bianca smiled.

  Patton didn’t look very happy, but Tatum didn’t say a thing.

  “You are coming?” Cady asked. “It’s New Year’s. In Aspen. At some swanky hotel. So you should come. Dance, laugh, have fun.” She glanced at Spencer, then back at her.

  It was hard to miss the other woman’s message. But by then, her time with Spencer would be up. Attending his brother’s wedding, surrounded by family and close friends, would be beyond awkward.

  “Come on, Tatum,” Lucy whispered. “We can be roomies.”

  But she was saved by the static of the microphone and the emcee’s announcement. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. We have our ugly sweater contest first. The winners of our silent auction. And then the big event, our bachelor auction.”

  * * *

  SPENCER COULDN’T BREATHE. He was in serious trouble and he knew it. Watching her, every smile, every laugh... He wanted to take her hand so Dean would back the hell off. He wanted to take her hand so everyone knew she was spoken for. Even if she wasn’t.

  His hand tightened around his beer bottle.

  Her long blond hair spilled over her shoulder as she leaned fo
rward to listen to what Lucy was saying. Her neck arched, pale and graceful. He knew how that skin felt beneath his lips, how she tasted.

  He took a swig of his beer.

  “Congratulations,” Patton said, sliding into the empty chair at his side. “A plastic trophy and a day helping Mrs. Graham around her house.”

  He glared at his brother. “Jealous?”

  Patton shook his head, his crooked grin quick. “Hell no.”

  Spencer laughed. “How’s the wedding thing going?”

  It was Patton’s turn to glare. “Don’t go there.” He paused. “She looks good.”

  Spencer knew who they were talking about. “She does.”

  “Cady likes her.”

  “What’s not to like?” he asked.

  Patton didn’t say anything.

  “What if I more than like her?” Spencer asked softly.

  Patton smiled a real smile. “You always have.”

  The truth in his brother’s words was freeing—and terrifying.

  Patton cocked his head, meeting his brother’s gaze. “If she can forgive you for what you did, you’re probably the luckiest son of a bitch of all time.”

  Spencer nodded, taking another swig.

  “You two talk?”

  “No.” Talking was the one thing they hadn’t done. His gaze returned to her. She reached up, absentmindedly brushing her hair from her shoulder and resting her hand on the table. She’d painted her nails red...

  Patton chuckled.

  “What?” Spencer asked.

  “Just wondering if I was that obvious?”

  Spencer sighed, setting his beer bottle on the table. “You were. And you are.”

  Patton shrugged. “Cady’s trying to get her to stay.”

  “To stay?” Spencer asked.

  Patton looked at him, frowning. “Some job in San Diego?”

  He knew she was going to visit a friend. But a job? A job in California—a job that would take her away. Again. He picked up his beer, draining the bottle. He had no right to ask her to stay. Hell, he didn’t even know if he wanted her to stay.