The Anderson Brothers Complete Series

by Kristin Coley

  “Up! Up! Get up,” she said excitedly, bouncing on top of me.

  “I’m up. No worries about that,” I groaned, pulling myself up and out from under her. I propped myself against the headboard, looking at her. She was flushed, her eyes bright with excitement. She looked like a kid on Christmas morning. Thank God she was not, because my thoughts were less than pure with her bouncing. “What time is it?”

  She stopped bouncing around at my question, “I don’t know.” I narrowed my eyes at her and grabbed my phone from the nightstand.

  “It’s 5:30!” I grumbled, while she lowered her eyes, trying to look innocent. “Give up the innocent act. It’s the crack of dawn.” I couldn’t say I was a morning person especially, since we hadn’t gone to bed till after midnight.

  Satellite TV was working again, and Sophie had wanted to watch every Christmas movie that was on. She’d finally fallen asleep next to me on the couch, and I’d carried her into her room.

  I was thinking I should have locked her in there. I would have, if I’d known she’d wake me up so early. I’d remember that next time.

  I shook my head to wake up. I must have been tired, if I was thinking there’d be a next time.

  “Come on,” she begged, tugging on my hand to get me out of the bed. She was not getting anywhere pulling me, so she finally dropped my hand with a huff. Her hands went to her hips, and she gave me a hard stare. I was trying to figure out if she was going for intimidating when I asked, “What’s the rush? It’s not like there’s presents under the tree.”

  My words cause a secretive smile to cross her lips, which made my eyes narrow. “What is it?” I asked, suspiciously.

  “Santa came!” her voice rang out, as she spun around and darted out of my room. I threw the comforter back and followed her. My eyes were huge, as I took in the giant Christmas tree filling my living room. It was covered in ornaments, and there were actual presents under the tree. I knew my mouth was open, but I couldn’t seem to close it. “How?” I questioned, gesturing at the tree and gifts. There was no way she did this, at least not without me hearing her. Right?

  “Magic,” she told me with a grin, before kneeling down in front of the gifts. In that moment, I believed her. What I saw before me truly was magical. She picked up the gift I had found for her. The one I’d hidden in the bottom of my sock drawer. I was shaking my head in disbelief, as she pulled another present out from under the tree. This one is for me.

  “Let’s open them,” she said excitedly. I snapped out of my daze with her words.

  “We don’t open presents, until after breakfast,” I told her firmly. Remnants of my own family Christmases came back to me. All the mornings Ford and I raced down the stairs to see what Santa had left and how Mom wouldn’t let us open the gifts, until after breakfast.

  Her face fell, and her pout would make a stronger man than me give in, but I turned around, so I didn’t have to see it. I grabbed bacon from the fridge. This would get her on my side soon enough.

  “You’re cruel,” she grumbled, poking me in the side, as she grabbed eggs out of the fridge. “Making us wait to open presents. I should call you Scrooge. This is torture. What if one of the presents is for breakfast? Bet you didn’t think of that.” I grinned, as she continued muttering under her breath.

  I admit I was curious about the presents. Hell, the entire morning had taken me by surprise. I glanced over at the tree that had appeared overnight in my living room. It wasn’t real, and I was sure Sophie had somehow set it up, but looking at it, I felt the same magic I’d felt as a child, waiting to see what Santa brought.

  Sophie

  Chapter Eight

  I might have been grumbling to Colt about waiting to open presents, but the truth was, I was starving. I’d spotted the tree yesterday, in our mad search for gifts, and I knew I had to put it up. The look on Colt’s face when he saw it was worth the four a.m. wakeup call it took to get everything ready.

  I smiled to myself, as my stomach rumbled. Even finding the gift he’d gotten me hadn’t been that complicated. Colt really wasn’t very good at hiding presents. I was dying to know what it was, though.

  I’d watched him wrap the little box out of the corner of my eye the day before. He’d worn a sad smile the entire time he wrapped it. He also didn’t put it with the other pile of presents we’d wrapped for my family. Luckily, he was a deep sleeper. Otherwise, it would have been weird if he’d caught me digging through his drawers.

  I wolfed down my breakfast the minute it hit the plate. I wasn’t kidding about starving, and the sooner we ate, the faster we open presents.

  I hopped up the instant I was done, and watched, as he leisurely finished his own plate. I was bouncing with impatience by the time he was done. I headed for the living room when I heard him.

  “Where are you going? You can’t open presents, until the kitchen is clean,” he said, grinning at me.

  “Noooooooooo,” I told him. “I’ve waited long enough. Get your butt in here.” I was trying for ferocious, but I thought I was more petulant. Either way, he relented and followed me to the tree.

  I settled cross-legged next to the pile of presents and handed him one of his. I’d found two things for him, and I couldn’t wait for him to open them.

  “You don’t want to go first?” he asked me with a grin. I shook my head no and resisted the urge to run my finger over the cleft in his chin. We were sitting close together on the floor, and his manly scent was distracting me. Who knew the combined scent of laundry detergent and deodorant could be so sexy?

  He unwrapped the gift, holding it up with a puzzled frown, as I grinned. “Handkerchiefs?” he said doubtfully.

  “Yep. You can’t go around pulling your shirt off every time a girl cries on your shoulder. This gift was practically a public service,” I told him confidently.

  “Where did you find them?” he asked. I hesitated before I said, “Your drawer.”

  “Really?” he said, surprised. “I’m not sure if I’m more bothered by the fact that you went rifling through my drawers, or the fact that I had handkerchiefs I knew nothing about.”

  “How about neither; and we call it a win/win?” I told him with a bright smile.

  He chuckled, as he ripped the package of handkerchiefs open and shoved one in his pocket. “Public service? I think me taking off my shirt is more of a public service.”

  “You would,” I told him tartly, as I reached for the present he got me.

  “At least I know how Santa found your present. Apparently, he’s a snoop,” Colt said with a half-smile, letting me know he wasn’t really angry with me.

  I carefully unwrapped his gift, pausing as I saw it was a jewelry box. Maybe he shoved whatever he found me in a jewelry box I told myself, as I opened it. Once I saw what was lying in the box, tears slipped down my cheeks. I heard him groan, and I looked up to see him pulling his handkerchief back out of his pocket. A laugh choked out of me at the appropriateness of our gifts. I pulled the gorgeous necklace out of the box and held it up to the light, admiring the delicate detail. I traded him the necklace for the handkerchief.

  “Put it on me, please,” I asked him, my words thick with tears. The necklace appeared tiny in his hands, as he came around behind me. His fingers were gentle on my neck, as he fumbled with the clasp. I reached up to stroke the detailed feathers forming the wings on the necklace.

  “It was my grandmother’s,” he said softly, settling back next to me. “She told me I’d know who it belonged to.” His smile was rueful. “She was right. I knew as soon as I saw your tattoo.”

  “I can’t take your grandmother’s necklace,” I told him with a gasp. My hand was holding the delicate wings, and I didn’t want to remove it, but I knew this must be important to him.

  “Yes, you can. It’s a gift. I can’t imagine there will be anyone else who’ll understand it better than you,” he told me firmly. I was caught by his use of the word understand, instead of appreciate, because it was true. I did unders
tand her wings, and the fact that he knew that made me cry harder.

  “Um, do you need another hanky?” he mumbled, reaching for the pack. I got myself under control, as I shook my head no. I finished with the handkerchief and tried to hand it back to him.

  He looked appalled saying, “You can keep it.” I giggled at his expression before telling him, “Thank you. I love the necklace.”

  “I’m glad,” he replied, reaching for the other box with his name on it. “You know that’s all I have for you,” he continued, with a nod to my necklace.

  “It’s more than enough. Plus, that’s a repurposed gift,” I told him, indicating the present he was currently shaking. I took some liberties with his stuff, so I hoped he wasn’t angry.

  I watched him rip open the box. Our approach to gift opening was completely different. I needed to remember to never give him anything breakable. Once he unwrapped it from the tissue paper, he held it in his hands like it was blown glass and a strong breath would shatter it.

  I waited, uncertain of his feelings. I knew the football belonged to him, but I wasn’t sure what meaning it held. I’d found it buried at the bottom of a box in his closet. We won’t go into why I was digging in a box in his closet either. When I found it, I knew it was his, because across the side of the football in childish scrawl was the name Colt Anderson.

  “This was my first football. Ford gave it to me one Christmas. He told me to sign it, because I was going to be famous one day, and it would be worth money.” He had a faraway smile on his face, as he told me this. My heart was thumping, and I hope I hadn’t ruined his childhood memento.

  “A life lived ordinarily will never become extraordinary.” He read the words off the football where I’d written them. I had no idea how he felt about me writing on something that was obviously important to him. I was terrified I’d upset him.

  “We threw the football every afternoon, until Ford went to college. This was the ball we played with. Once he wasn’t there anymore, I kept the ball on my desk. It was the first thing I packed when I headed to college.” I saw him swallow hard before continuing. “I wanted to throw it away when I found out about their deception, but I couldn’t. I buried it in a box and never looked at it.”

  Oh, fantastic. I’d unearthed a painful memento from his past. What a perfect gift.

  He looked at me and his smile took my breath away. “You forgot to sign it,” he told me, handing the football to me. I took it and signed my name under the words, blinking through a sheen of tears.

  “Thank you,” he said, his eyes red. “I was glad to have this back. Your words remind me of myself,” he laughed. “I guess that’s the point. The words reflect me.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief before I threw my arms around him, my face buried in his neck. I felt his hesitation before he wrapped his arms around me. He hugged me tightly, and I felt like I’d come home.

  “The snow plow is coming,” I called, looking out the window. I noticed there was no snow in front of the garage. “Is your driveway heated?” I asked Colt, as he walked up to me.

  “Yeah. I didn’t really care at the time they told me, but I can see its usefulness,” he told me, sipping coffee. “Are we going to be able to get to your family’s cabin?”

  “Yes, we have an old plow. I’m sure Dad already finished the driveway. He loves playing with big equipment,” I said, smiling. Colt gave me a sideways smirk.

  “Don’t you want to go out and play in the snow?” he asked me. I bit back my ‘hell no’ and made it a more moderate, “No.”

  “You grew up with snow. Don’t you miss it?” Colt asked me, before continuing. “I grew up where there’s no snow, and I miss it. That was the worst part of moving here. The snow. We don’t have that in Texas.”

  “Exactly why I don’t live here anymore. Once I figured out there were places it never snowed, I made plans to leave,” I replied, shuddering. “I never liked the cold.”

  After we loaded up the presents in the SUV, I jumped into the driver’s seat, as Colt looked at me. “You don’t think you’re driving, do you?” I asked him, doubtfully.

  “Kinda,” he grumbled, climbing into the passenger seat.

  “I’ve seen you drive in the snow. So no,” I said smartly, slipping my sunglasses on to block the glare from the snow.

  “One little mistake. How long you gonna hold that against me?” he whined.

  “Only anytime we’re driving in snow,” I replied, with a smirk.

  “Fair enough,” he answered. “You think they’ll like me?” he asked abruptly. I glanced over at him, to see if he was serious. And yep. He looked legitimately worried about whether my family was going to like him.

  “I’m pretty sure. In fact, you could probably make crude noises and gestures during dinner, and they’d still think you were awesome,” I told him, matter-of-factly.

  “That’s good to know,” he replied absentmindedly. I gave him a quick look at his words, but he was staring out the window.

  With the roads cleared it only took about fifteen minutes to get to my family’s cabin. As soon as they heard the car, my family poured out of the cabin. I gave a big sigh and hopped out of the car. “Ready or not, here they come,” I muttered under my breath to Colt.

  He gave a short laugh and strode up to my dad, holding out his hand to shake. My dad automatically shook his hand, but I saw the second he realized whose hand he was shaking. His jaw dropped, and I swear his eyes bugged out of his head.

  “Oh shit, you’re COLT ANDERSON!” my brother, Mark, shouted. He was practically bouncing on his heels, waiting to shake his hand.

  “Much more gratifying than your sister’s response when I told her my name,” Colt told them with a grin at me. I gave him an exaggerated frown, as I hugged my sister and sister-in-law.

  “Holy smokes, Sophie. What’s he look like without that shirt?” my sister, Michelle, hissed in my ear.

  “Adonis,” I replied, with a wicked grin. They both sighed, as I headed to the door. It was too damn cold to stand outside.

  The afternoon passed quickly, as they all asked Colt dozens of questions. Perhaps I should be put out that my own family was ignoring me, but instead I was relieved he was diverting their attention. He successfully distracted them from asking me about my work, love life, and when I was moving home. It was the most pleasant visit I’d had in years.

  We opened gifts, and everything was a hit. I could guarantee my brother would be wearing the jersey to bed tonight like a fangirl. My sister-in-law even liked her gift. Colt had grabbed a vase off one of the nightstands this morning, to give her. As she oohed and aahed over the damn thing, which I seriously thought she only liked because Colt gave it to her, he leaned over and whispered, “I’m never getting my security deposit back.” I couldn’t help laughing at his words, and, as my family glanced at us curiously, I waved them off. I’d rather not explain the origin of their gifts to them.

  My sister had a secret smile on her face, and as soon as all the gifts were opened made her announcement. “We’re pregnant!” she shouted, holding her husband’s hand.

  “Called it,” I whispered to Colt, with a wink before going to give Michelle a hug. I noticed Dad wiping his eyes in the corner, so I went and wrapped my arms around him. “What’s wrong, Pop?”

  “Just thinking how happy your mom would be right now,” he told me quietly. I gave him a squeeze, knowing how rarely he mentioned her. She’d been gone seven years, but the hole she’d left was still felt. I could see the sadness in Michelle’s eyes. Mom had died a few months before her wedding, and her absence was felt today with the announcement of her first grandchild.

  We sat down for dinner, Michelle’s pregnancy the main topic of conversation. We avoided any mention of our mom, until Mark asked about baby names. They tossed out options for boy names, until Colt said, “What about Sarah for a girl’s name?”

  The silence was deafening. Sarah was my mom’s name which Colt knew good and well. He’d found the elephant in
the room and ripped the cover right off it. I glared at him, but he pointedly ignored me.

  “I’m sure she would be thrilled about the new baby. It would be a good way to remember her. Unless, of course, she hated her name,” Colt rambled on. I realized he was doing it intentionally. He wanted us to talk about her. I wanted to slap him and hug him at the same time. I guessed this was my payback for texting Ford. It was far more nerve-wracking than I thought, waiting for a response.

  “I think your mother would be honored,” my dad finally said, thickly. Michelle had tears streaking down her face, and I saw my brother was holding his wife’s hand tightly.

  “You don’t need to worry about me. If I have a daughter I’m going to name her Cocoa, like the chocolate, not Chanel,” I jumped in, attempting to lighten the mood. Everyone looked a bit stunned before Colt responded. “Are you serious? That might need to be up for discussion.”

  “Why would we need to discuss it? Are you under some impression that you would be her father?” I responded, tartly. My family was watching us like a ping pong match. We’d successfully distracted them now.

  “I’m not seeing any other potential candidates hanging around. It seems to me that a man should be warned what his kid’s names could be before getting too involved,” he shot back, waving his fork at me.

  “Do you have a problem with Cocoa?” I replied narrowly, barely containing my laughter at the utter absurdity of arguing about baby names with Colt at my family’s dinner table.

  “I don’t know! Are you going to name our son Butter?” he yelled irately.

  “I might. I like it,” I shouted back.

  “Of course you do,” he groaned. “I need to keep my mouth shut.”

  “Best advice I’ve heard all night,” I told him, picking up my plate and heading to the kitchen.

  “You don’t walk away from a fight with me.” I heard him shout, as he followed me into the kitchen. He found me shaking with laughter, propped up against the counter. I mouthed, ‘Butter’ to him between bouts of laughter.