A Father for Christmas

by Rachelle Ayala

  Jaden pops into the kitchen with a stack of takeout containers. “You guys leaving now or will I have time to heat something up?”

  “Go ahead. Bree needs to go potty and get her gear on.” I follow Mother out of the kitchen.

  “Mama, come on, come on.” Bree bounces, tugging my hand.

  Ella finishes snapping the buttons on Bree’s jacket and pats her head. “You get to pick the tree. Ready?”

  “Except she needs to potty.” I can’t believe I have to undo the jacket and rain pants, but my sister’s not a mother so what does she know about getting a child ready for an outing?

  I don’t dare look at Tyler. He’s staring at the family pictures in front of the fireplace. This is all too cozy, like he belongs here with us.

  I walk Bree past him toward the bathroom. A loud popping and hissing sound comes from the kitchen.

  “Get down.” Tyler lunges at Bree, knocks her to the ground, and crouches behind the couch, his hands in position as if around a machine gun.

  Bree’s head thumps the floor, and she let’s out a yelp.

  My baby! I rush to pick her up and check her head.

  “Owie, owie,” she says, but I can tell she’s not hurt as much as startled. “I have a big bump like in the cartoons.”

  I peek at Tyler. He stands frozen behind the couch, his fists clenched and his posture slumped. He has to go past all of us to get to the front door, and I bet he’s hoping we don’t notice him as he slinks out.

  “What happened?” Mother opens the kitchen door. “Did something blow up?”

  Jaden steps out with a plate of sausage and rice. “That was the microwave.”

  “I saw everything,” Ella says. “Tyler freaked out when the sausage popped. He was protecting Bree.”

  Refraining from a snide remark, I rub Bree’s head to see if she’s hurt. Tyler must be mortified. How horrible it is for him to not be in complete control of his actions. But however bad I feel for him, I can’t risk my daughter’s safety. What if he went into a full blown panic attack and thought she was the enemy?

  He moves past me and Bree, his face still downcast. “I’m sorry. I have to go now.”

  “Oh no, you don’t.” Mother corrals him near the door. “It’s quite all right. Everyone’s fine. Besides, I paid you already for the handyman stuff. So you still have your list to do.”

  “You sure?” Tyler rubs the back of his neck. His eyes light up, as if hoping against hope that everyone would think he’s normal.

  “Of course. I’ll also need you to pull the candlesticks out from the storage unit downstairs and polish them.” Mother smiles and pats his arm. “After you’re done with that, we should be back with the tree, and you can help us with the lights and ornaments.”

  Ugh. I don’t get Mother. Is she so kind hearted she wants him to feel useful, or is she still trying to play Cupid? And seriously, I don’t see how she can leave him alone in her apartment. If a popping microwave can freak him out, what’s to say we don’t come back and find him setting fire to the place because he saw enemy combatants?

  That does it. If Tyler’s staying, I’ll have to stick around to make sure he’s safe.

  “Bree?” I kiss her and smooth her hair. “Mama’s going to stay here and help Ty clean Nana’s place. You stay with Auntie Ella, okay? No running off.”

  “No running off. I pwo-mise. Santa says if I good girl, I get a papa for Chwistmas.”

  10

  ~ Tyler ~

  Tyler gritted his teeth and straightened his spine as he watched Kelly kiss Bree and wave goodbye to her family. Peggy flashed him an A-OK hand sign, and he had no choice but to stick around and finish the job.

  Not that he’d ever run from his problems. Nope. A real man faced everything square on, and he’d screwed up. Even though he’d taken his medicine, he’d allowed himself to get excited and carried away with Kelly and the kiss. There was no excuse.

  Tyler moved away from the door and unhooked the keys to the storage locker. “I’m going to fetch your mother’s candlesticks. Anything you need out there?”

  Kelly glared at him, as if finally noticing the white elephant in the room. “I don’t know what you and my mother agreed to. Sounds like she has you doing jobs for her on a regular basis?”

  “Pretty much. I mean, she’s already paid me. I can give it back. I don’t mean to scam off your mom.” He fished a wad of bills from his pocket. “I spent some of it, but I’ll pay her back every penny.”

  “Don’t.” Kelly backed away from him. “I’m serious. Take the money and let’s go through her list before they return. I know my mother, and she has to have everything arranged exactly the way she wants.”

  “Sure, okay, let’s get to it.” Tyler left the money on the counter behind the mail and followed Kelly to the storage locker.

  For the next hour or so, they polished the candlesticks, pulled out boxes of ornaments, and set them on the coffee table for the tree trimming. Kelly popped popcorn, infusing the kitchen with a fresh scent, while Tyler changed the alarm batteries and made sure every light bulb was functioning.

  The sound of the popcorn popping didn’t disturb him because he expected it, knew it was happening. It was the surprises that short circuited his conscious mind, bringing back the sights, sounds, and odors of the war zone: falling mortar, cracked windows, and mangled bodies.

  Kelly handed him a needle and string and placed a bowl of raw cranberries between them. “Did you guys do this when you were little?”

  “We had popcorn, but no cranberries.”

  “No cranberries?” Kelly popped one in her mouth and made a sour face. “How boring.”

  “My mother buttered and salted the popcorn too, so we ate more than we strung.”

  “Oh, I’ll bet. Did your father take you tree shopping or did you guys cut one down from whatever farm you grew up in?”

  He poked through a fat cranberry, squirting some of the juice over his fingers and tied a knot. “My father took me out with a saw whenever he was home. My uncle had a tree farm, and he’d let me pick a tree. Only catch, I had to saw it down, and that’s hard work.”

  “That’s where you got all the muscles.” Kelly laughed as she wrapped a half-strung garland around his bicep. Her perfume and the closeness of her body heat knocked Tyler’s heartbeat up a notch.

  He cleared his throat. “I wonder what’s taking them so long.”

  Kelly dropped the garland on the kitchen table and ran her hand up his forearm along the tail of his tattoo. “I bet Bree can’t make up her mind. Last year, I had Tiffany’s deliver a tree completely trimmed and decorated, and she was upset because she wanted to do it herself.”

  “Tiffany’s? Like in New York?” Tyler struggled to keep his voice steady. If she kept trailing her fingers like that, he’d be justified in bending her over for a long, slow kiss.

  As if aware of his thoughts, Kelly flushed and fanned herself. “Anyway, that was last year and this is this year. She wasn’t old enough to string popcorn and stuff.”

  Strange. All Tyler knew about Tiffany’s was the movie Breakfast at Tiffany’s and that it was an expensive jewelry store. Maybe Kelly referred to a friend of hers who prepared Christmas trees.

  “Where did you grow up?” he asked, keeping his tone casual since Kelly didn’t seem forthcoming about her background.

  “Massachusetts.”

  “You related to the famous Kennedys?” He’d seen her mother’s name on the envelopes she left lying around.

  “Not a chance.” Kelly plucked a handful of popcorn and laid them in a row.

  “So, what made you move to California?” His garland was longer than hers and more colorful, since he alternated cranberries and popcorn.

  “Mom’s out here. I want to be close to family.”

  Made sense, except her eyes dodged his, and her shoulders slumped in a closed position.

  She definitely had something to hide.

  ~ Kelly ~

  What’s with the twen
ty questions? I check the clock, wondering why my family’s not back. It’s been two hours already. Knowing Mom, she’s purposely leaving me and Tyler alone. Although after that kiss earlier, I’m salivating every time he comes closer. The episode with Bree seems to have sobered him up, and he’s being ultra careful to be a gentleman. He hadn’t even responded when I admired his ink and muscles.

  My head’s in a fog, and I need coffee. Tyler’s being friendly, trying to keep things light. He’s homeless so he probably doesn’t have internet, and he won’t find out about my arrest and conviction, not unless someone tells him. But he’s a trained warrior, and my being spooked has him suspicious.

  I plaster a wide smile and stretch with my hands above my head. “I need a cup of coffee. How about you?”

  “Sure we can take a break? I still have to detangle the lights.”

  “You work too hard.” I punch his shoulder lightly and scoot around him to the coffeemaker. He turns and I end up brushing against him as I round the corner of the kitchen table.

  I gasp at the spark of electricity arcing between us. He must have felt it too, because his blue eyes darken from Tiffany shade to a deep navy. The garland he’s working on drops, sliding to the table, and he feathers the backs of his fingers over my cheek.

  All I can think about is his hard, muscular body, and the way his lips burned through mine, as if he’d hungered for a million years, yet holding back and taking his sweet time. I lean into his touch and rest my hands on his waist, feeling him tense.

  “What’s going on here?” Tyler’s voice is tight, barely rasping. “I shouldn’t … This is wrong.”

  I swallow the drool collecting under my tongue. Does he not feel it? Is he not affected by me?

  “Why?” My hands slide up his sides and he shudders, sucking in his breath. I honestly can’t remember the last time a man had me so mesmerized. His scent is sexy and woodsy, sending heat spiraling through me and making it hard to think.

  His gaze lowers to my lips. “I can’t help but want to kiss you, but you’re suspicious.”

  The hairs on the back of my scalp bristle. He’s right. I am suspicious, but not of his motives. He can’t help the situation he’s in, and he doesn’t want anyone’s pity.

  God help me, he’s hot, here, and wants to kiss me.

  I pull my arms around him and press myself against him. “I can’t help it either. Kiss me.”

  This time, I step up on tippy toes and inhale his hot breath before tapping his lips with mine. He responds immediately, his fingers streaking through my hair as he slants his head and covers my mouth with his.

  I open up to him, stroking his tongue, drinking him in. Desire stokes in my lower abdomen and tingly flutters wrap around my shoulders.

  A moan escapes me when Tyler deepens the kiss, his hands weaving possessively through my hair. The sheer power of his strength and the fierceness of his hunger sets me on fire.

  What am I doing? I can’t fight this. Don’t want to. Don’t let this end.

  Bang. Voices intrude. They’re back. Crap. I stiffen to ease myself out of the kiss, but Tyler doesn’t let go.

  His lips and tongue continue to work their magic, melting me with liquid pleasure. One more touch, another caress. I suck on his lower lip and squeeze the cords of his shoulders.

  “Kelly. We got mistletoe.” Mother’s voice rings through the kitchen door.

  I push away from Tyler in the nick of time.

  “Mama!” Bree exclaims as she careens into the kitchen. “We got a big tree, and Nana bought a big gold star. I get to put it on, please, please.”

  She shoves a gilded star, still in its package at me. “I want Santa to see the star and give me a real papa.”

  She’s not looking at Tyler. This is progress. As long as she thinks it’s not Tyler, I have a chance for a little fun, maybe more.

  11

  ~ Tyler ~

  The resiny fragrance of the Christmas tree filled the room, and a fire crackled in the fireplace. Christmas carols played on the stereo. The Kennedy family frolicked around the tree admiring the ornaments which brought back fond memories.

  Tyler took a sip of spiced apple cider and closed his eyes, remembering his favorite ornaments, his Baby’s First Christmas star, the teddy bear caboose, and his set of Army men. He wasn’t even sure his mother had kept anything after his father died. They’d lost the farm and moved to a dingy apartment, too small for trees, parties, and fun.

  “Who wants to put up the star?” Peggy held up the golden star ornament. “I can’t reach it.”

  “Me, me, me!” Bree jumped and clapped, grasping for it.

  “But you can’t reach it either.” Peggy jiggled Bree’s cheek. “You picked a big old tree.”

  Kelly leaned over the back of the sofa and squeezed his shoulders. “Penny for your thoughts? You seem to be far away.”

  He set the mug of cider on the coffee table and whispered, “Do you mind if I help Bree put up the star?”

  “Go ahead, and thanks for asking.”

  His consideration earned him a smile, one which seemed to wrap him in a warm blanket. He wanted Kelly, wished things could be different. Emotions flooded him along with images of them in a mountain cabin huddled in a thick down comforter.

  Bree tapped his knees, breaking his train of thought. “Ty, pick me up. I wanna put the star.”

  “Okay, missy.” Tyler lifted her and stood at the same time, placing her onto his shoulders.

  “Whee! That’s fun. Do it again.” Bree grabbed his hair with one hand and bounced on the back of his neck.

  “The star first.”

  “Wait, wait.” Peggy waved for Ella and Jaden to gather around. “Who wants to do the reading?”

  “I will.” Kelly reached for the Bible. “Or Tyler, do you want to?”

  “Sure.” Tyler maneuvered himself to Kelly’s side while she held the Bible and pointed to the passages. “When they had heard the king, they departed; and, lo, the star, which they saw in the east, went before them, till it came and stood over where the young child was. When they saw the star, they rejoiced with exceeding great joy. And when they were come into the house, they saw the young child with Mary his mother, and fell down, and worshipped him: and when they had opened their treasures, they presented unto him gifts; gold, and frankincense and myrrh.”

  “Bree, what does the star stand for?” Peggy shook Bree’s chubby little foot.

  “Jesus!” she squealed. “It’s his birthday.”

  “Right. We should be like that star and lead people to Christ.”

  “Yay.” Bree bounced and squirmed. “I get to put the star up.”

  Tyler’s heart warmed as he lifted Bree up high and held her. She was so trusting, and when she was finished, he turned her in his arms and hugged her.

  “You’ll never get rid of her now,” Ella said as she shut off the video camera.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I want Ty to throw me up and catch me,” Bree said.

  “Hope you like the workout.” Kelly pinched his waist. “What? No love handles? We’re going to have to fix that, won’t we? Ready to eat?”

  ~ Kelly ~

  “So, what’s going on between you and Tyler?” Ella and I are elbows deep in dishwater. Mother’s annual tree-trimming dinner was a rousing success, and Tyler must have eaten enough for an entire team of football players. After dessert, Tyler and Jaden took Mother and Bree out for a stroll to work off the calories.

  “Nothing yet.” I hand her a plate. “He’s attractive.”

  “Understatement of the year. He’s a frickin hunk, and the thing is, he doesn’t think he’s hot.”

  “He has his issues.” I’m pretty sure Mother’s updated Ella on everything, filling in the gaps with speculation and embellishments. “I’m not sure why Mom insists on including him. I mean, Bree might get the wrong idea.”

  “Which is?” Ella stacks the dried dish onto a pile.

  “I’m sure you heard about her obs
ession for finding her father.”

  “Oh, yes. Over and over from both Bree and Mom. But honestly, I think you should be thinking about yourself instead of what Mom and Bree want.”

  I juggle a glass, almost dropping it. “I’m not interested in dating. I have my daughter. I’m going to get my career back. I don’t need distractions. Especially a guy who has fits. You saw what he did with Bree?”

  “Yeah, but he didn’t really hurt her. He just has quick reflexes.”

  “He has post traumatic stress disorder. He takes psych meds, goes to therapy.” And his kisses are out of this world. And he’s kind and protective and honorable. Argh.

  “Everyone has problems.” Ella slaps me with a dishtowel. “Does he know you’ve been in jail?”

  “Shhh …” I look over my shoulder. Thankfully they’re not back. “I’m ashamed of what I did. Anyway, he doesn’t need to know. It’s not like we’re in a relationship or anything.”

  “Keep saying that.” Ella quirks her eyebrow. “All I see are sparks flying between you two. It’s like the air is charged with lightning, and you can’t keep your hands or eyes off each other. You looked so guilty when we got back from Christmas tree shopping.”

  My face heats from her teasing tone. “We weren’t done with the garlands. You know how Mom is.”

  Ella giggles. “Of course you weren’t done, because you were otherwise occupied. I bet he’s an awesome kisser.”

  “Who’s an awesome kisser?” Jaden’s voice sneaks up behind us.

  “How’d you get back without us hearing?” Ella jumps to her tippy toes and kisses him.

  Their smacks and smooches are loud and exaggerated. I turn the water to full blast and scrub the roasting pan.

  Tyler’s a homeless vet. Tyler has PTSD. Tyler’s unemployed. Tyler’s a free spirit. If Tyler gets back on his feet, he’ll have a million women after him. Tyler’s not for me, and I don’t need him. But I can’t help wanting him. What’s wrong with me?