A Merrily Matched Christmas

by Virginia Nelson

  “That was fun,” Nick says. “I think I like playing Santa.” He removes his jacket and places it on the arm of my couch. “There’s one more present I have to deliver, though.” He walks over to my Christmas tree, bends down, and places a small box with red and green metallic wrapping paper on top of the train tracks. “There. Now, I’m officially finished with my Santa duties.” He clasps his hands and stands up.

  “What is that?” I ask him, knowing he never followed through with the rest of his Christmas shopping since I was with him all evening.

  He glances at his watch. “Well, it is technically Christmas morning now, so I don’t see why you can’t open it and find out.”

  I remove my jacket and place it on top of his before moving toward the tree. I have no idea what he could have gotten me, but it’s clear he’s had it for at least a few days now. “I feel bad I don’t have anything for you.”

  “Accepting the gift will be my present,” he says, watching me bend down to retrieve the wrapped box.

  I stand up and face him, studying his eyes. He smiles and nods, indicating I should open the gift. I carefully peel away the paper. I was never one to tear into a gift. Inside is a little black jewelry box. “Nick, what did you do?” Jewelry is too much considering we’re just seeing each other again after five years.

  “Open it and see.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, the maneuver registering as a nervous gesture.

  I open the lid of the box, and the wrapping paper slips through my fingers and falls to my feet. Inside the box is the engagement ring he gave me years ago. “What is this?” I ask. “I mean, I know what it is, but why are you giving it to me?”

  “It’s yours,” he says. “It’s always been yours.”

  “But, Nick...”

  “I know.” He takes a tentative step toward me. “The problem is I could never bring myself to return it to the jeweler, and the thought of any other woman wearing it...” He shakes his head. “It has to be you.”

  “But we just came back into each other’s lives. I admit my feelings for you are still there. Being with you the past couple of days has felt right, but you still don’t want children. I do. I love those kids at the children’s center. I want to be a mother one day, and I won’t force you to—” My words are choked by the lump in my throat, and a tear slips from my eye. “I can’t take this.” I extend the box back to him, but he doesn’t take it.

  “I gave you this ring. I never wanted it back. And giving it to you now isn’t what you think. I’m not asking you to marry me. Not now anyway. I’m asking you to hold on to it because five years can change a lot.” He cups my hand holding the ring box. “When I saw you with those kids at the center, I knew...” He pauses like he’s afraid to finish his sentence. “I knew you’d make the best mother. You’re supposed to have children.”

  “And you don’t want kids,” I say, my voice shaking with the reality of the situation. Five years later, and we still can’t make this work. We still want different things. I brace myself to have my heart break all over again. Only this time, I’m not sure I can recover from it.

  “I didn’t back then. I was too young to understand what having a family meant. But I’m older now, and after playing Santa, after seeing how much those children adore you... I guess April didn’t tell you about our conversation.”

  “April? What conversation?” I ask. She never mentioned that she spoke to Nick.

  “After we split up, I became a mentor to a few kids who needed a male figure in their lives for various reasons.”

  “You became a big brother?” I ask, stunned by the news.

  He nods. “And to my surprise, I loved it. Those kids got to me in a way I didn’t know was possible. I found myself looking forward to every moment I got to spend with them and make a difference in their lives, because they were making an equal difference in mine. I get it now. If I’m being completely honest, I want more time to get to know you again. To be with you alone. But when we’re both ready, I want you to be the mother of my children.”

  My breath catches in my throat. Is he really saying the words I’ve always wanted him to?

  He raises my hand still holding the box. “That’s what this is about. It’s a promise of a future together. A future I think we both want.”

  No. It’s a Christmas miracle. That’s the only explanation. He’s giving me the gift I’ve wanted since I first met him. It may have taken years for us to get here, but I couldn’t imagine it being more perfect. “What do we do now?” I ask.

  He smiles at me, closes the distance between us, and presses his lips to mine. Then he takes the box from my hands and places it back under the tree. “For when you’re ready for it,” he says. He walks over to the gas fireplace and turns it on. Then he takes the throw blanket off the couch and spreads it out in front of the fire. “Join me?” he asks, extending a hand to me.

  We sit down on the blanket, and Nick kisses my neck just below my ear. “I never stopped loving you, Holly. I never stopped wishing for another chance with you.”

  I take his face in both my hands. “I never stopped loving you either.”

  His mouth claims mine, and the hunger and passion between us ignites. We shed our clothes in a hurry, but everything after that is done with slow purpose. We want to savor every moment. His hands and tongue explore every inch of my body. And unlike last night, when I kiss his chest above his heart, he doesn’t pull away. He enters me, making us both shudder. I don’t remember a time when I was happier. Our bodies rock in tune and reach ecstasy at the same time before collapsing in each other’s arms.

  “Merry Christmas,” he whispers to me.

  “It definitely is,” I say, tracing my finger across his bare chest.

  He reaches above his head and then hands the ring box to me. “This is yours to keep until you’re ready to use it, but know that I’d marry you today. You’ve had my heart for years, despite the distance between us. Nothing will change that.”

  The love in his eyes confirms his words. “In my heart, you’re the only man I’ve ever wanted to marry, and that hasn’t changed.”

  He slips the ring out of the box. “May I?”

  I nod, and a tear of joy spills down my cheek.

  “Holly Michaels, will you grant me the best Christmas gift ever and agree to be my wife?” He slides the ring onto my finger.

  “Yes. A thousand times, yes,” I say, before kissing him again. The first kiss of many to come.

  Look out for the next book in the Holiday Love series, Thankful For You, coming in fall of 2018.

  And stay up-to-date on all of Ashelyn Drake’s new releases by signing up for her newsletter: http://bit.ly/2pvYT07

  About the Author

  Ashelyn Drake is a USA Today bestselling romance author. While it’s rare for her not to have either a book in hand or her fingers flying across a laptop, she also enjoys spending time with her family. She believes you are never too old to enjoy a good swing set and there’s never a bad time for some dark chocolate. She also writes speculative fiction under the name Kelly Hashway.

  For more information:

  www.kellyhashway.com

  A Merry Matchmaker Mess

  by USA Today bestselling author Virginia Nelson

  Veronica “Ronnie” Murray loved fixer-upper projects, and she’d never met one as challenging as her coworker, Elijah Conrad. Eli may be an absentminded and sometimes grumpy genius, but he carries a sadness in his eyes… one she knows love will cure.

  Eli isn’t looking for love, but he can’t help but notice the feisty little Ronnie’s attempts to play matchmaker. She might be his best friend’s little sister, but Ronnie has something about her… something he would like to explore, if he could get her to stop throwing women at him like snowballs.

  Can these two opposites find a lifelong love from their stolen Christmas kisses?

  Chapter 1

  A beard could hide a lot of things, or at least that was Ronnie’s first thought when she spott
ed Elijah Conrad coming out from under her car. A veteran and genius like him had to have seen a lot of things, yet his dark hair and beard kept her from reading his expression exactly.

  He’d been the talk of Evergreen Springs, their small town, from the day he came home. Two years later, and it hadn’t died down… mostly because he was the enigmatic brilliant type. Elijah seemed pretty oblivious to everyone’s interest in him—he just kept his head down and worked a lot. Too much, in her opinion. Then again, he was partner in the engineering company her brother started. Due to that, he’d been pretty busy securing government contracts and doing a lot of math, so far as she’d seen. He needed to get out more, live a little.

  She considered herself gifted at helping others, be it rescue animals or people in need of a little love, so she wasn’t fooled by the sexy lumberjack kind of facial hair. No, it was in his eyes—just there!—that she could spot it.

  He hurt. And he was lonely.

  Eyes like that begged for a friend or… even better!

  They begged for romance. Eli Conrad needed someone to love who would love him in return.

  Also, she’d probably been staring at him too long. His lips, even under the rugged beard, were slowly tilting up and the smile almost reached his gorgeous brown eyes. “Veronica?” he inquired in a voice deep enough to curl her toes.

  No one ever called her Veronica. She was Ronnie, had been since about seventh grade. Only Eli bothered to even remember that she had a full name. She didn’t know why that was so touching to her, but it was.

  Yeah, whichever woman Ronnie set up with this guy would be a lucky lady indeed. This man screamed sensuality in a way that should be impossible, especially covered with oil. Ronnie cleared her throat before managing, “Yeah, about the car…”

  “Did you call your brother when it started making the noise?” Eli asked. He rubbed a rag against his huge hands and Ronnie bit her lip. He really was far too hot for small town life, but she’d find him a match. It was what she did.

  “Yes,” she answered. “He told me I should get it looked at.” She burrowed a bit deeper into her winter coat. The wind smelled like coming snow, and the leaden color of the sky agreed. She’d been lucky that Eli was also on his way to work and saw her alongside the road. Since she was running late, it wasn’t like many others would be headed toward work at this hour and the shop was on a dead-end road in a mostly deserted industrial park, especially on a Saturday.

  “Did you get it looked at?” he asked.

  She nibbled her lip. She’d meant to follow her brother’s implicit directions when she’d bought the new car. Check the oil, check the tire pressure, check the blah blah blah. Sadly, there was always something else more important to do. When the warning light popped up last week, she’d asked her brother Mac to check it out… and his advice was to take the car to a mechanic.

  She hadn’t had time. Or, more honestly, she hadn’t remembered other than when she was driving the car, and it wasn’t like she had a handy blow up mechanic doll in the glove box.

  She darted another look up at those sad eyes of his. Was it wrong that she wanted to tug him into a hug? Probably, since she planned to hook him up with someone else. She shouldn’t send mixed signals.

  “No. In my own defense, it has been a really busy week.” She was on the planning committee for a bunch of holiday events for their small town, plus she had work, and the new palette from her favorite makeup company released, so she’d had to film and edit a video reviewing it… after she’d preordered it and waited for it to arrive.

  Busy. Really busy. She liked to keep very busy.

  “You probably should’ve listened to him,” Eli pointed out, gazing back at her car.

  “Well, I didn’t. Did you figure out what was wrong with it?” she asked, trying not to focus on how very nice Eli’s ass looked.

  “You’re going to need to get it towed,” he said simply. “Hop in my car. I’ll give you a lift to work.”

  Not exactly how she planned to get close enough to him to research who’d best fit him, but it would do. Cheerfully, she followed him to his car and hopped in. She wasn’t that worried about her car, but she was concerned with her projects.

  And although Elijah Conrad might not realize it, he was for sure her next project.

  Mac’s little sister Veronica worked with him, but for the most part, he hadn’t talked to her since high school. She was part of the marketing and media team, so it wasn’t like he needed to interact with her at work.

  If he had his way, he probably wouldn’t interact with anyone. His work took up most of his concentration—the mathematical certainty of it all consuming his thoughts. Which was how he liked things.

  Real life was uncertain—full of sticky emotional and social interactions that he would rather not bother with, given his preference. He hated the abstract, and feelings were almost always just that. Even knowing that about himself, he had to admit he’d cast more than one glance in the general direction of Veronica Murray.

  He understood polar opposition, and Veronica was likely as close to a living version of his opposite as humanly possible. Where he was quiet and liked to take things in and consider them, she was constantly talking, ever in motion, and seemed to light up whatever room she entered.

  Which should’ve annoyed him. Usually, he found that distractions were a bother. But something about Veronica always tugged his eyes up from his computer screen or microscope. She had this hair, all wild and platinum white, but with colored streaks that peek-a-boo-ed out when she shifted and moved. Her pretty little oval face was always sparkling in some way, whether it was some glittering color on her lips or some shocking splash of vibrant hues around her already lovely eyes.

  Her clothes seemed to be equally haphazard—from boots with cartoon characters emblazoned on the leather to scarves of surprising patterns. Always in motion, always glittering, she fascinated him on some weird level he didn’t quite understand.

  But the constant talking? He didn’t know how she did it, to be honest. He almost always thought carefully before speaking, considering his words and their possible impact before bothering to say a thing.

  She was like this stream of sound, rising and falling in a way that soothed his ear yet was often more sound than words.

  In the close confines of his car, the rattling flow of chatter was surprisingly absent. Instead, she sat with her hands tucked into her coat pockets and her eyes on the road ahead. One of her feet—this time, clad in an almost knee-high boot of brilliant yellow—tapped on the floor, and she practically twitched with energy.

  “You’re awful quiet,” he pointed out as he turned into their lot.

  “I was thinking,” she answered, surprising him a little. Based on his interactions—few though they might have been—with Veronica, thinking before she spoke was something he would’ve figured she wasn’t a fan of.

  “About your car?” he began. An understandable concern, as he didn’t have high hopes that her engine survived what looked like severe neglect. “I can call a tow truck and have it taken to a garage for you—”

  She waved a hand, face scrunching in annoyance. That was something else he’d noticed about her. That pretty little face of hers seemed a mirror to whatever mood or thought she might have. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever met someone quite as expressive as Veronica, and he’d bet she sucked at poker.

  “I’m not worried about the car,” she muttered.

  “You’re not?” He would be, if he was her. From the looks of things, she’d been driving it either without oil or without an oil change…

  And, either way, she’d probably destroyed the car.

  “I was thinking about you,” she answered, hopping out of the car on her side. He’d parked in his spot, and sat there for a second after she’d gotten out, trying to decide why thinking about him would’ve caused the consternation he’d noted on her face.

  They were practically strangers, really. What exactly was she thinking about him? />
  He met her gaze across the top of his car then considered her petite face as a gust of wind caught and tousled her hair. That peek of color popped out again—hot pink—and he wondered why he found it so damn appealing.

  “About me?” he said, at a loss.

  “You’re single, right?” she replied.

  He blinked at her, more than confused. Was she asking him out? He couldn’t recall a time in his life when a woman had done just that, so it would be novel. Would he say yes?

  Part of him was curious about her—had been for quite some time—but it probably would be a bad decision.

  For one, she’d get bored with him pretty quickly. She was so lively and colorful and vibrant. Compared to that, he was a dull gray. A blob of dull gray.

  He was the masculine equivalent of a potato.

  For two, why would she? Because he happened to be running late and saw that she was having car trouble?

  She was still looking at him, so he locked the car and ushered her toward the door. He wasn’t sure how to answer her unexpected question, so he simply didn’t.

  Once inside, she stomped her feet twice on the rug and looked at him again. “Well, you didn’t answer? Are you seeing someone?”

  He opened and closed his mouth, furrowing his brows as he again tried to think of a single reason why she’d be asking.

  He couldn’t come up with even one logical possible reason.

  “I’ll call for a tow and see about your car getting into a mechanic,” he answered, heading toward his office. When in doubt, as his father used to say, just don’t answer.

  She dogged his steps, catching his arm before he could hide behind his office door. “I forgot to say thank you,” she said.

  She was shorter than him, he noticed. Not too short for kissing, but shorter. “No problem,” he answered.