Romancing the Holidays: Twelve Christmas Romances - Benefits Breast Cancer Research

by Crista McHugh

  “Okay, fine,” she said. “But when I win—when, not if—you need to keep your hands to yourself for the rest of our trip. No more kissing, sex, or sexual groping, or anything else remotely close to what we just did. And…we tell your parents the truth about us before we go back to Boise.”

  Dylan’s jaw worked as he stared at her, his gorgeous blue eyes narrow and intense. Then they crinkled at the corners as he grinned. “Agreed. But when I win—when, not if—it’ll be you and me, under the Christmas tree, with you wearing nothing but your red stilettos, while I have my way with you under the twinkling lights.”

  Oh, God. She practically came just thinking about it. “Sorry. No can do. I didn’t bring my stilettos,” she said flippantly.

  His lip curled at one corner and he nodded to his duffel bag by the door. “I did.”

  She stared, open-mouthed, as she glanced at his bag then back at him. “You packed my red stilettos?”

  “You know how much I like them.” He’d always referred to them as FMNS: Fuck Me Now Shoes.

  Yes, she did know how much he liked them. In fact, the first time she’d worn them for him was likely the night she’d gotten pregnant with the twins. He’d gone absolutely insane over her wearing nothing but the shoes, and had done such sinfully naughty things to her that night, they’d both forgotten all about condoms.

  Don’t think about that night! And don’t think about those sinfully naughty things!

  “There’s no way in hell I’m agreeing to that. Seriously? Under the tree where anyone could come downstairs and see what we were doing at any time?”

  “You said ‘come.’”

  She rolled her eyes. He had such a one-track, immature mind sometimes. “Naked and stilettos, maybe, but no Christmas tree.”

  He shook his head. “Nope. You. Naked. Stilettos. Under the Christmas tree. That’s the bet. Unless you’re worried about losing, you shouldn’t care what I get when I win.”

  “If you win.”

  “When.”

  That was true. It didn’t matter. Because she was going to win. She squared her shoulders. “Fine. You’re right. Sure, I’ll take that bet.” She held out her hand.

  His grip was firm as he shook it, and a sexy-as-hell grin spread across his face. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

  Why did she suddenly feel like she’d made a pact with the devil?

  Chapter Four

  A loud shriek, then pounding footsteps echoed from downstairs. Dylan caught Francie’s eyes and grinned. “Katie Jo must be home.”

  They headed out to the hallway and a teenaged girl in an elf costume raced up the stairs toward them. Dylan’s baby sister flew into his arms, knocking him back into Francie. She steadied herself with a hand against the wall.

  Katie Jo’s voice was muffled against Dylan’s sweatshirt, and Francie didn’t think she’d be able to understand what the girl was saying anyway, because she was crying so hard. Something to the effect of, “I’m so glad you’re home. I missed you so much.” Or something like that.

  Finally, Dylan gripped Katie Jo’s shoulders and held her away from him. Her pointed elf hat was askew on her head. “I missed you, too, little brat.”

  Despite the red, blotchy, and tear-stained face, she was a cute girl with her brother’s same coloring of pale blue eyes and light brown hair.

  “Oh, hi Francie,” she grinned, looking over Dylan’s shoulder. She swiped at her eyes, and moved past him to hug Francie. “I’m a little happy to see my big brother, if you can’t tell.” She sniffled and wiped her eyes again. “You were probably just like that when you picked him up at the airport, weren’t you?”

  Dylan caught Francie’s gaze over his sister’s head. She wished she could have a do-over with that. She should have had that same reaction. She should have thrown herself into his arms. She’d wanted to, but had kept herself calm and aloof. For self-preservation. For all the good that did her.

  Naked in stilettos under the Christmas tree. So not gonna happen.

  Luckily, Katie Jo didn’t wait for a response as she grabbed Dylan’s arm and dragged him downstairs. “I can’t believe you guys got married and didn’t tell us about it. I would have made a totally awesome bridesmaid.” She turned and grinned at Francie. “This makes us sisters, you know.” When they reached the foyer, she hooked her other arm into Francie’s. “I’ve always wanted another sister.”

  Francie had always wanted a sister, too. Being an only child had been so lonely at times. Still was. And now with her mom gone, she had no one, except for some distant relatives on the East Coast she’d never met. Growing up, she’d been so jealous of all her friends who had siblings. And now she had three of them.

  It just about broke her heart realizing it was all only temporary.

  * * * *

  “We were wondering when you two would make an appearance down here again,” Lola said, grinning. The two dogs greeted them, wiggling and gurgling their happiness.

  Pete laughed and shot his wife a knowing glance. Katie Jo punched Dylan’s arm, then said she was going to change. Molly and Macy sat at the kitchen table, completely absorbed in the task of frosting cookies, aka making a huge mess.

  Francie blushed and Dylan’s arm snaked around her waist. “We were away from each other for nine whole months you know,” he said. “We have a lot of catching up to do.” He dipped her low and kissed her.

  She expected a quick kiss, but instead, he deepened it. With tongue. While cupping her butt. Right in front of his family.

  “Get a room,” came a deep male voice.

  Dylan righted her and his eyes lit up. “Hey, little brother!”

  “Little” was a complete misnomer, as Nick was just as tall as Dylan and maybe a bit broader through the shoulders. He played football for Boise State, the college she’d be heading back to next semester—she had to drop out when she’d gotten pregnant.

  Her head still spun from Dylan’s kiss. She knew it was just for show, but still. Whew. He was going to make it as hard as he could for her to lose that bet.

  Nick turned to her. “Hey, Francie.” He wrapped her in a giant hug. “Or should I say ‘sis’?” He kissed her on the mouth, earning him a hard punch in the arm from Dylan. “I should warn you, my brother is the jealous type.” That earned a laugh from Pete, a tsk tsk from his mother, and another blow from Dylan, which Nick artfully dodged. “Getting slow in your old age, bro. I thought the military woulda made a man out of you by now. Guess I was wrong.”

  He shoved at Dylan’s shoulder and winked at Francie. “You ever get tired of this guy, give me a call.”

  “Nicky, that’s enough,” Lola scolded.

  Pete and Francie laughed. She couldn’t tell if Dylan was amused or not.

  Macy looked up from the table, as if just now noticing that her mommy and daddy had come downstairs. She slid off the chair and ran toward them. Francie expected a leg hug, but instead Macy ran to Dylan and grabbed his hand with green frosting-coated fingers. “Daddy help.” She pulled him toward the table.

  Dylan’s surprised expression turned to one of pure happiness as he joined the girls at the table. He caught Francie’s eye before sitting down and his wide smile warmed her from head to toe and some naughty parts in between.

  Remember the bet, she warned herself.

  Lola tapped her arm. “Honey, would you mind cutting up the cabbage for coleslaw? It’s all washed and in the crisper. You just need to cut it up.” She pulled a knife and cutting board out for her.

  Even though the large kitchen was loud and crowded with bodies, Francie loved it. Dylan’s family was so warm and funny. Lola was clearly in charge and gave everyone a job to do. As soon as Katie Jo reappeared, she was tasked to “help” the girls and Dylan decorate cookies, although it looked like more sprinkles and crumbs fell on the floor than onto the cookies. But the two dogs didn’t seem to mind at all as they lapped up every crumb from the hardwood floor, then sat and looked expectantly up at the girls, tails wagging, waiting for more.


  Pete stood at the stove, making his “world secret” barbecue sauce, which smelled divine. Nick had been tasked with making the dressing for the slaw.

  As Francie chopped the cabbage and listened to Dylan, Nick, and Katie Jo tell funny stories about childhood Christmases, she kept one eye on her little family at the table. Dylan looked like there was no place he’d rather be in this world than sitting at that table with his daughters and his sister. Katie Jo clearly adored her older brother, and the girls seemed thrilled to have him there, too.

  Macy fed a cookie loaded with about an inch of frosting to Dylan. More frosting ended up on his chin and lips than into his mouth. He glanced up to find Francie watching him. He grinned and licked his lips, then his gaze traveled down her body and back up again.

  God. Only Dylan could look sexy with green frosting smeared over the bottom half of his face. She would love to go over there and kiss some of that sweet confection from his mouth. She imagined another part of his body she wouldn’t mind licking frosting from, and the knife slipped and sliced her thumb.

  “Oh!” The knife clattered onto the cutting board as she grabbed her bleeding digit.

  Everyone stopped what they were doing and gaped at her. Lola grabbed a dishtowel and hurried over to wrap it tightly around the injured finger. “Oh, no. Let’s see how bad it is.” She led Francie toward the sink.

  “It’s just a cut. No big deal,” Francie said, when in truth she had no idea how badly she’d cut herself. It didn’t hurt horribly bad, so that was a good sign.

  Dylan stepped up beside her and grasped her arm. “Ma, do you still keep a first aid kit in the laundry room?”

  She nodded. “It should have everything you need.”

  Francie felt a little silly over all the attention. It was just a little cut. If she’d done this at home, she’d have shoved it under cold water a few seconds, squeezed it with a paper towel until it stopped bleeding, then wrapped it with a bandage. Done.

  But the way Dylan’s family stared at her with worried expressions made her feel a bit weird. She supposed she just wasn’t used to having so many people around who cared about her.

  “Come on,” Dylan said. “I’ll fix you up.”

  “I just bet he will,” Nick chirped from the counter island as he whisked the dressing. “Playing doctor was always one of his favorite games as a kid.”

  Francie’s brows rose. “Why does that not surprise me?”

  Everyone laughed and Dylan said, “Just for that I’m going to kiss you with my frosting face.”

  He cupped her cheeks and kissed her, his mouth and tongue sweet from all the frosting. It wasn’t a sexy kiss but a rub-his-mouth-and-chin-all-over-her-mouth-and-chin kind of kiss, the kind that had her laughing rather than lusting.

  “Dylan!” Lola snapped. His head whipped up. “Did you forget about your wife’s poor thumb?”

  He actually blushed as he tugged Francie out of the kitchen, everyone’s laughter following them.

  “I think I just blew my diet with that kiss,” she said as they entered the laundry room at the back of the house. She swiped a glob of frosting from her chin then stuck her finger in her mouth and sucked it off.

  She looked up to find Dylan watching her, his eyes hooded. “That’s not all I’d like you to blow,” he muttered.

  A giggle burst from her mouth. “Are you ever not thinking about sex?”

  He shook his head. “Around you? Nope. It was a long nine months, Francie.”

  He pulled a first aid kit from one of the cabinets next to the deep sink, and set it onto the counter. Carefully, he unwrapped the towel from around her thumb. As soon as she stopped squeezing the cut, it began to throb and ache.

  Dylan held her hand under a gentle stream of cool water, and blood oozed from the cut and disappeared down the drain. It stung, but Francie wasn’t thinking about her finger. She was thinking about his words, that it had been a long nine months. And his adolescent comment about wanting her to blow something else.

  He was intent on her injury, so he didn’t notice when she looked at his crotch. His bulge was larger than normal, which meant his mind had traveled in the same dirty direction hers had.

  He told her how she should keep an eye on the cut and put some more ointment on it before bed, blah, blah, blah, but she wasn’t really listening. She bided her time until he put the first aid kit back.

  “There,” he said. “You’re all set.”

  He turned toward the door, but she reached past him and shut it. He turned, his brows raised in question.

  She grinned and reached for his fly.

  He whistled through his teeth. “Red stilettos, here we come,” he said in a sing-song voice.

  She paused with her fingers on the button of his jeans. “There was nothing in our bet about blow jobs, but if you want to get all technical on me, I can stop.” She held her hands out in front of her and backed up a step.

  “Oh, hell no.”

  “So you’ll agree that my actions here will not affect the outcome of our bet?”

  “I agree one hundred percent. One has nothing to do with—” He sucked in a loud breath when her hand reached into his pants and wrapped around his cock. “—the other.”

  He’d gone commando today. How convenient for her. Holding on to him with one hand, she used her other hand to tug his jeans down over his lean hips. She knelt in front of him.

  She opened her mouth and took him inside. Dylan’s hands slid into her hair and he groaned. She tasted his salty skin and the frosting on her lips as she went to work on him. Yummy.

  After one particular move with her tongue, his entire body jerked and he fisted her hair almost painfully. “God. I’d forgotten how good you were at this.” His voice was tight and restrained.

  If she was doing this right, he shouldn’t be able to talk. She doubled down her efforts. He didn’t speak again.

  * * * *

  She splashed warm water onto her face, wiping away the rest of the frosting and Dylan from her mouth. When she straightened, their gazes met his in the mirror.

  A slow grin spread across his face, and he wrapped his arms around her from the back. “That was hot,” he murmured, dropping his head to nuzzle her neck. One of his hands cupped her breast over her sweater, and the other slid into her pants.

  Someone pounded obnoxiously on the door. “What are you guys doing in there?” A woman’s voice.

  Dylan pulled away from her and grinned. “Brianna,” he said. To the closed door, he called, “Be right out.”

  A few moments later they headed into the kitchen.

  “The doctor is in the house!” Nick set his whisk down and applauded them. Lola slapped his arm and shushed him. Pete and Katie Jo grinned from their place at the cookie table with the girls.

  Francie blushed at the playing doctor reference. “More like Naughty Nurse,” Dylan muttered in her ear, and her face felt like it turned ten shades of red.

  A young woman ran up to them and threw her arms around Dylan. “Welcome home, you piece of shit!” Brianna was a year younger than him, if Francie remembered correctly, and was also genetically blessed with the Maguire good looks. Her long dark hair was pulled back into a high ponytail and messy bangs highlighted her almond-shaped blue eyes.

  “Piece of shit?” Dylan echoed with a chuckle.

  Brianna pulled out of his arms and punched him hard in the shoulder. “For not telling us you were married. That was kind of a dick move.”

  Tension wafted the air along with the succulent aromas of pulled pork and barbecue sauce.

  “Good to see you, too,” Dylan said dryly.

  She punched him again. “Oh, you know I’m happy to see you.” She hugged him again, kissed him on the cheek, then finally looked Francie’s way. “Hey, Francie.”

  “Hi, Brianna. Nice to see you.”

  Brianna just nodded and turned her attention back to Dylan, linking her arm through his and dragging him out to the front room to sit in front of the fire.


  Francie had met Brianna only once before and had received a similarly cool reception. It was like Dylan’s sister had taken one look at her and hated her on sight. She had no idea what she could have done to make Brianna not like her. Maybe she didn’t like anyone he dated. Some sisters were like that, she supposed.

  Lola smiled brightly at Francie from across the room, obviously having noticed her eldest daughter’s rudeness. “I bet you’d like a glass of wine, wouldn’t you?”

  Francie forced what she hoped was a normal-looking smile. “I would love one, thanks.” And make it an extra-large glass, please.

  * * * *

  Dinner opened with a solemn prayer, as Pete thanked God for Dylan’s safe return. Francie’s eyes were closed, but she heard a few sniffles from around the dining room table.

  “Amen,” Pete finished, and everyone else said the same.

  The serious moment passed, and everything went back to normal: loud voices, laughter, kid babble, teasing, reaching across each other for food platters, even the occasional piece of food flying across the table.

  There wasn’t a silent moment, between the girls jabbering and giggling, and everyone catching Dylan up on their lives while he was gone. Katie Jo talked about her senior year at Winter Lake High School, and how she still wasn’t sure what she wanted to do after she graduated. Nick chided her if she didn’t spend so much time studying boys, she might have figured that out.

  “Like you have room to talk,” she shot back, then the discussion turned to Nick’s schooling and football, and BSU’s upcoming bowl game, and they took bets on what the final score would be. Other than when Dylan asked about her journalism studies at the University of Washington, Brianna didn’t participate much in the conversation, except for the occasional jab at one of her siblings or some funny faces at the twins. Every time Francie glanced her way, Brianna was staring at her with a slight smirk on her mouth. Not quite a glare, but close.