It's In His Christmas Wish (A Red River Valley Novel Book 7)

by Shelly Alexander

  She wanted to say she wasn’t sure, but deep down, she knew that wasn’t true. He was a stand up guy, and anyone who crossed paths with Ross Armstrong knew it.

  She shook her head. “No, I don’t think you would.”

  His eyes softened, pinning her with a look that said his feelings for her went way beyond friendship. And for the first time, that didn’t send her running for the door.

  “Then give me a chance.” He placed a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. “Give us a chance.” He pressed another sweet kiss on the other corner of her mouth, then grazed her lips with his. “I’ve wished for this for so long.”

  Need lanced through her.

  One of his hands slipped under her top to massage circles up her spine while the other dropped to her neck, the roughness of his palm causing her skin to prickle, and she shivered.

  “Are you cold?” he whispered against her mouth.

  She shook her head. “No.”

  The twinkle that said he was both happy and victorious was back, and he chuckled. “Then you want me as much as I want you.”

  One arm circled his neck. The other played with the strands of his sandy blond hair that brushed the rim of his ear. “Maybe.”

  He pressed a kiss to her neck. “You can’t resist busting my chops, can you?”

  “Uh-uh.” She traced a fingertip over the cuff of his ear all the way to his earlobe and along his squared jaw.

  The rich timbre of his growl against her ear—so masculine, so sexy—made her feel so wanted. Not something she was used to, and she found it irresistible.

  So irresistible, in fact, that she crushed her lips to his and speared her fingers into his hair. His hungry kiss consumed her. Sent a current of electricity coursing through her to settle in her nipples.

  Before she knew what was happening, he shifted her so she straddled him.

  She pressed her aching nipples against him, and he groaned again. “Too many—”

  She cut him off with another hot open-mouth kiss.

  “—clothes,” he said, shucking his jacket. Then he went in for more, but before he could slip his muscled arms around her again, she tugged at the hem of his thermal shirt.

  “Great idea.” He reached behind his head and one-handed his shirt to send it sailing across the table.

  “I’m full of great ideas.” She ran open palms up his bare arms and ground her hips against his.

  “Jesus,” Ross hissed, placing one hand at the back of her head and the other at the small of her back to pull her as close as possible, then he kissed the hell out of her.

  Fine by her.

  She sighed into his kiss, a shiver quaking through her as one of his hands slid under her black turtleneck to smooth up her bare back.

  She leaned away, giving him a melodramatic sensual look. “If you think it’s been good so far…” She fingered the hem of her sweater and tugged it off in one smooth movement.

  Thank goodness she’d worn a nice bra.

  His eyes darkened with desire. “Black lace.” His voice had gone thick and rough.

  “It’s new. I don’t usually spend money on such things, but I treated myself while I was on the road.” As his gaze roamed over her, she straightened her spine, letting him take his fill of her enormous rack.

  His stare snagged on her belly button. “You’re pierced,” he rasped out.

  “Yup.” Gently, she took his hands in hers and placed them over her breasts.

  He cupped and kneaded, making her head fall back and her eyes slide shut.

  Making the space between her thighs go moist.

  She circled her hips against his.

  “Holy shit,” he hissed out, and reached to her back to unhook her bra.

  Both breasts sprang free, nipples hardened into peaks, and waiting for his touch.

  “Good Lord, woman.” His gaze turned sultry as he filled his palms with her aching flesh. “I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as you.” His warm mouth closed over a nipple, and she cried out, wrapping both arms around his head.

  He suckled until every nerve ending in her body threatened to spontaneously combust. She rocked her hips into his, finding a perfect rhythm that drove her close to the edge, even with their pants still on.

  She leaned back to go for his zipper.

  The door slammed open, and Dylan McCoy charged in.

  Comet sprang to life and barked at the intruder.

  Kimberly scrambled off of Ross’s lap and turned away to find her top.

  “Shit,” Ross hissed under his breath and reached for his shirt.

  “Uh.” Dylan averted his gaze. “Sorry, guys, but the door wasn’t locked. You better come quick.”

  That was exactly what Kimberly had been trying to do until he so rudely interrupted! She pulled on her shirt and spun to face him. “Why?”

  Dylan still kept his gaze facing the wall. “Chairperson Clydelle came into Cotton Eyed Joe’s pretty frantic and sent me to get you.”

  “What’s so important?” Ross asked, still trying to turn his shirt inside out.

  Kimberly gawked at him like a woman lusting after a male bare-all calendar.

  His bare chest glistened with a fine sheen of dew from getting hot and bothered. Because of her hip grinding. Because of her bare breasts. Because of the fact he cared about her and had been about to show her how much.

  Kimberly’s mouth watered at the sight of him, and she couldn’t help but lick her lips.

  He glanced up and did a double take, their eyes anchoring to each other. Time slowed, everything around them melted away, and it was just him and her and the unrequited feelings and physical attraction that had almost not been so unrequited anymore.

  So close.

  Dylan cleared his throat.

  Both Ross and Kimberly’s heads snapped around.

  “Um, sorry,” Kimberly mumbled, heat prickling up her neck to settle in her cheeks.

  “Yeah, uh, right…” Ross fumbled over his words as much as he was fumbling to right his shirt. “Sorry, but not really, uh…”

  Kimberly doubled over laughing.

  Which caused Ross to do the same, because that was the beauty of their friendship. The beauty of them.

  Her heart skipped a beat at the realization that she’d finally thought of them as a beautiful thing. Or at least the beginning of something beautiful.

  Dylan let out an exasperated sigh, and Ross and Kimberly’s laughter trailed off into silence. They gave Dylan their full attention.

  “Finished now?” Dylan asked with a smartass tone.

  Ross glanced at her and shook his head. “No. Not by a long shot, but you’re here, so go ahead and tell us what’s wrong.” He pulled his shirt over his head and stood.

  “There’s practically a riot going on over in the park,” Dylan said.

  Ross’s brow wrinkled. “What?”

  “Why?” Kimberly gasped.

  Dylan volleyed a look between the two of them. “Something to do with the decorations and the tree.”

  Oh, for crying out loud.

  Kimberly went for her jacket. “Who started this nonsense?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know.” Ross pulled on his jacket, too.

  “Don’t know.” Dylan shook his head. “But Ms. Clydelle said you two better get to the park because it was your job to sort it out and fix it.”

  Chapter Nine

  Ross pulled his classic pickup along the curb in front of the park and propped an elbow on the door.

  Fuck’s sake.

  “Oh, no,” Kimberly said from the passenger’s seat.

  He tapped a fist against his chin and watched the mob that had gathered in the park. They’d clearly squared off into two opposing groups.

  His scrap iron Nativity figures had been spray painted by vandals before he could take them down and deliver them to Deacon West to be painted the right way. The three wise men were painted to look like elves, the archangel, Gabriel, resembled Santa Claus, the Virgin Mary had been
painted to look like Mrs. Claus … in a mini-dress.

  Ross could see why that had the churchgoers in an uproar.

  Kimberly gasped, her hands flying to her cheeks. “Look at the tree.”

  Ross’s gazed scanned the park, landing on the eye soar that used to be the Wishing Tree. Just above the mob’s head, the branches had been visibly sheared off, in the shape of a…

  Ross pinched the corners of his eyes with a thumb and forefinger. “I swear that wasn’t my doing.”

  “What kind of people clip a Grinch shape into a Christmas tree that’s meant to help kids?” Kimberly huffed.

  Good question. He damn well would have an answer, too, by the time he was done diffusing the situation. He was already in a grouchy mood because he and Kimberly were interrupted at the worst possible moment. But being interrupted for this?

  Now he knew what the bumper stickers Random Bitch Moment Waiting to Happen meant because he was about to have one. Maybe he could order a sticker for his truck that said bastard, instead. Either way, he was pissed that people could be so immature and thoughtless. The fact they were acting so selfish at this time of year only made Ross’s mood more pissy.

  “Come on.” He opened his door, got out, and slammed it hard.

  Kimberly hopped out and obviously remembered to let Comet out of the back seat because they both hurried to catch up to him.

  He didn’t slow his gait. Didn’t soften his scowl.

  He walked right up to the crowd. “Who the hell is responsible for this?” he barked.

  The crowd went quiet.

  “Someone better start talking.” He rammed his hands into his jacket pockets.

  Finally, Deacon West stepped forward. “You promised us a tasteful Nativity scene.” He pointed to the iron figures. “The crude welding was excusable under the circumstances, but this is insulting.”

  What Ross hadn’t been able to see from his truck was that someone had adorned Baby Jesus with a costume so that He looked like an Elf on the Shelf.

  For the love of God.

  So, so, literally, too.

  Ross had grown up in church, but his parents had stopped going after they lost Noelle. Still, vandalizing any faith seemed wrong, especially at Christmastime.

  A middle-aged woman with bushy shoulder length hair spoke to Deacon West. “So you retaliated by ruining the tree?” She pointed to the Grinch silhouette cut into the giant pine.

  Deacon West’s expression said he was truly incensed. “We did no such thing. I don’t know who ruined the tree, but it wasn’t us, I assure you.”

  An argument broke out with lots of sneers and jeers coming from both sides.

  Ross was about to lose his shit, so he laced his fingers behind his head and closed his eyes for a second. Then he opened them and scanned the crowd. Two small groups of middle-school aged kids lingered in the background on both sides—one set of tweens behind the churchgoers, and the other set of tweens behind the tree-lovers.

  Ross would bet money he had his vandals.

  He didn’t know anything about parenting, except that kids usually mimicked their parents’ behavior.

  He glanced around the crowd of adults behaving badly. Seriously, some Hollywood producer could make a mint if they filmed the scene for a reality TV show.

  When the melee didn’t subside, Ross crouched, molded two big handfuls of snow into balls, and stood with one in each hand.

  Kimberly stepped up beside him. “Need help, big guy?”

  He handed her one of the snowballs. “I’ll take one group. You take the other.”

  Her big smile was full of mischief.

  “On three?”

  “You got it, big guy.” Kimberly zeroed in on her target.

  So did he. “One.” Ross started the countdown. “Two.” They reared back their throwing arms for the pitch. “Three.” They let the snowballs fly, shocking the entire crowd into silence.

  When they had everyone’s attention, Ross said, “Listen up, because I’m only going to say this once.”

  He glanced at Kimberly and did a double take. Her big eyes looked up at him with so much lust and admiration that he couldn’t make himself look away.

  He lost his train of thought for a second.

  She waggled her fingers toward the dumbstruck crowd. “Carry on while you’ve got their attention.”

  He cleared his throat and refocused on the crowd. “I don’t know who did this or why, but Kimberly and I have been working our tails off trying to make everyone in this town happy, and this is the thanks we get?” For the life of him, he couldn’t get the son-of-a-bitch tone back into his voice because all he could think about was the sight of Kimberly’s lustful expression.

  She went on tiptoes and said in his ear, “Come on, you’ve got ‘em on the ropes. Don’t let them off the hook yet.”

  He glanced at the vandalized Nativity scene and the ruined tree and the fury was back again. “I’ve never been more disappointed in this town than I am at this moment, so here’s how it’s gonna go down.” He drew himself up and jutted out his chest. He was well over six feet tall, and when he puffed up, he knew how intimidating he could be. “Deacon West, tell your congregation … and all the other congregations in town—” Couldn’t hurt to throw down the guilt card on all of them at the same time. “—to start acting out their faith instead of just talking about it.”

  Deacon West nodded absently, as though he was shocked at Ross’s hardass tone.

  “I’ll expect each church in town to provide a live Nativity scene every night, starting when we officially light the Wishing Tree.” He craned his neck, searching for the kids on the churchgoers side, who were likely either youth group members or their parents were active members of one of the churches in Red River. “And that includes the kids here tonight.”

  Every last one of the teens and tweens huddling on the fringe of the crowd blanched.

  Good. He hadn’t met a kid that age yet who couldn’t use a good kick in the pants at least once before they reached adulthood. He’d been one of them himself at one time, acting out after the loss of his sister because of the pent-up grief he wasn’t allowed to talk about because of his parents’ selfish denial.

  Kimberly leaned into him. “Clever idea.”

  Maybe, but he was too damn angry to give himself any credit.

  He focused on the opposing side of the mob. “And you all can organize carolers to sing holiday songs in the park, rotating out every night, just like the Nativity scene will do.” He searched the crowd again, finding the kids who were likely responsible for vandalizing the baby Jesus and His scrap iron posse. The way they kicked the dirt and shot terrified looks at each other told Ross he wasn’t wrong. “The kids here tonight will help out with that, too.”

  He let his gaze bounce around the crowd. “I’m going to find a new tree first thing tomorrow, and it’ll be decorated and ready to light by this weekend.” With everything else he and Kimberly had to accomplish before Christmas Eve, it would be tight, but he’d either get the new tree ready, or die trying. “Both sides better not fail to perform their responsibilities, or else…”

  What? What else could be sure to make both sides suffer the consequences of their ridiculous behavior?

  He had nothin’.

  Ruining Christmas … acting the Grinch, just wasn’t him, no matter how angry he was.

  “Or else, tomorrow we’ll decorate Red River with Valentine’s decorations and have you dress up like leprechauns and Easter bunnies instead of Christmas carolers and a Nativity scene,” Kimberly finished for him.

  Both sides of the mob gasped.

  Comet barked.

  Ross looked down at her and mouthed, “Thank you.”

  She shrugged. “Sometimes being a Grinch comes in handy.”

  Sure as hell did.

  He turned his attention back to the stunned mob. “Any questions?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Good. Be ready this weekend to sing your hearts out and reenact a two-thousand-ye
ar-old stable scene in Bethlehem.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Or you can expect a lot of red hearts and green four-leaf clovers in Red River this year. I doubt the kids getting their wishes fulfilled will care one way or the other, folks, as long as our town is bright and sparkly.”

  Now, who was the Grinch? Because he’d just managed to stomp all over his sister’s dying wish by threatening to deprive Red River of the correct holiday decorations.

  He took Kimberly by the arm. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Before he could start toward the truck, something tugged at his pants leg. He looked down, and a little girl bundled in winter gear and clutching a teddy bear had her bottom lip puckered out so far it could’ve caught snowflakes if it had been snowing. She couldn’t have been more than four or five.

  “Mister,” she pouted. “Will Santa skip Red River if we don’t have Christmas lights? He won’t be able to find us.”

  Her mother shot out of the crowd. “I’m so sorry.” She tried to lead the little girl away.

  “Ma’am.” Ross couldn’t be a Grinch to a kid with a pout as cute as the one this little girl had. “May I?” He held out his hands in a gesture that said he wanted to pick her up.

  The young mother nodded.

  When Ross had her in his arms, he asked, “What’s your name?”

  “Noelle.” Her little voice and pouting lip made it sound more like Know-ewwwl.

  Sadness reached up and grabbed him by the throat. Wouldn’t let go. Wouldn’t let him speak.

  “She was born in December,” the little girl’s mother explained.

  Kimberly’s hand slipped under his jacket, and she flattened it against the small of his back in a comforting gesture. “I’ve got this.”

  Thank God, because Ross couldn’t have spoken a word without blubbering like an idiot.

  She tweaked the little girl’s nose. “Sweetie, I can already tell you’re going to be at the top of Santa’s Nice List.”

  Noelle’s face lit brighter than the lights strung around both of Ross’s businesses.

  Kimberly had given Ross just enough time to compose himself. Ish. “I’ll put in a good word for you with Santa.” The croakiness in his voice was barely noticeable.