by Fox,Cathryn
Buzzy narrowed her beady hazel eyes and fluffed her short black hair as her jerky gaze peered through the doorway and swept over Rachel. Something about her short twitchy movements, and the way she was always pecking about reminded Rachel of a pigeon.
“Rachel, come sit with us,” Buzzy said, and tapped the chair beside her.
It wasn’t that Rachel disliked Buzzy. Not at all. She was an old family friend who lived down the road and visited frequently. Probably too frequently. But since she was all alone in that big old house, Margaret always welcomed her with a smile. Just like Margaret welcomed everyone. Rachel liked Buzzy well enough. What she didn’t like was the way she lived vicariously through the Reddys. Which was a nice way of saying that she was as nosy as hell, and the last thing Rachel wanted was to explain to her again why she’d yet to find herself a man in New York.
Not wanting to appear rude, Rachel rushed in and dropped a kiss onto Buzzy’s cheek.
Buzzy smiled up at her. “Rachel, sit, let’s talk more about the men in New York.”
Rachel stifled a groan. “We’ll talk more later. Right now I’m running late for the annual skating party.” Rachel pulled on her parka, hat, gloves, and boots, then grabbed her skates from the back porch and headed out the door.
“Don’t forget your dad and I are going out to dinner tonight, Rachel, and won’t be home until late,” her mother called out after her.
When Rachel stepped outside the wind slapped her in the face, stinging almost as much as Mason’s shocking announcement. The winter sun was low on the horizon, and snow and ice crunched beneath her feet as she tracked around her Honda and cut down the winding lane. Since the town hall wasn’t too far, she decided to walk. Maybe the cool air would help clear her head as well as her libido.
After only a few minutes down the road, she began to rethink her skinny jeans. Not only were her legs cold and stiff, jutting out beneath her like two frozen Popsicle sticks, the way the seam kept rubbing against her sensitive clit had her mind straying back to Nick again. Her sex fluttered and pulsed, and fueled her desires. Working diligently to ignore the erotic sensations, she pulled in an icy breath and, with determined strides, trekked on.
Five minutes later, she stepped into the town hall and soaked up the heat. She stood still for a moment, letting her body thaw as people milled about eating cookies and sipping hot drinks from Styrofoam cups. Sparkling colored lights adorned the room and glistened on the corner tree, blinking in a nonsequential pattern. After she’d gained feeling back into her extremities, Rachel grabbed herself a hot toddy, and let her glance move over the crowd, taking in all the familiar faces. From across the room she waved to Misty and Josh, high school sweethearts who were having their first child. Misty rubbed her protruding stomach and Rachel wondered how she was going to explain that “little round belly” to the kids when she dressed as Mrs. Claus at the department store. Too many gingerbread cookies, perhaps? Heck, Rachel knew all about that. Playing the part of Santa and Mrs. Claus was something the two had done for years, although Misty might be better off switching roles with her husband this time around.
Once again her gaze surfed over the faces before settling on one. The town’s bad boy. Luke Russo. Perfect.
As she took in his playboy demeanor, she warmed to the idea of giving up the search for a good guy. Now she just planned to settle for some good old-fashioned sex. And Luke was just the guy to help her work out a few frustrations. Again and again.
Night had fallen around them and the cool wind nipped at their flesh as Nick and Mason hustled down the long, winding lane. As his breath turned to fog in the chilly night air, Nick pulled his collar up against the bitter gusts, then jammed his hands into the pockets of his parka. Keeping pace with Mason, who looked like he was straight out of GQ in his cashmere peacoat, he turned the corner and headed down the main drag leading toward the town hall. Mason really did have great taste, which was why Nick was thrilled to have him as head buyer at the store.
Once again, Nick’s thoughts raced to Rachel and he wondered if she’d be at the hall. A little over an hour ago he’d spotted her from his bedroom window, hastily making her way down the driveway in her big white parka, looking like the abominable snowman with a pair of skates draped over her shoulders. She really did have something for the color white, he mused. Although he wasn’t opposed to it, he thought she’d be far better suited for pink. Jesus, just thinking about her pretty pink lips, both plump sets, had his body burning and begging him to answer the pull in his groin. He fisted his hands inside his coat, bit back a low growl of longing, and stared straight ahead.
Off in the distance he could hear laughter and see a crowd skating beneath the towering street lanterns. As he took in the festivities, a strange tingling moved through his blood and warmed his darkest corners. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and slowed his steps in an effort to take it all in.
The older children were speed skating around the rink like they were pumped up on sugar. Younger children were tucked in between their parents, learning to take their first strides on skates. Off in the corner, lovesick teenagers were lip-locked under clumps of mistletoe that were hung from every possible lamppost. Santa made his rounds, laughing joyously and handing out copious amounts of chocolate and candy canes. At least now Nick understood the sugar high.
Nick stood back in mute fascination and ached with a sense of longing as he observed the collection of merry people. An invisible band tightened around his heart, and he felt his knees go weak. Christ, he knew he wanted this, but until this moment he really had no idea just how much he ached for it. He had always yearned to have a big loving family, but there was something so comforting and inviting about this particular gathering that it had him feeling all sentimental inside.
Realizing that Mason was well ahead of him, he picked up the pace and doubled his steps to catch up. As they moved closer to the group, it baffled him just how much he wanted to belong, to be a part of Haven’s annual celebrations. To come together year after year and meet family and old friends. To share memories and laughter over cookies, cocoa, and candy canes. Chaos erupted inside him and he cleared his throat, rattled by the rush of emotions.
Just then he caught sight of the sheriff’s Stetson bobbing like a buoy in a sea of people as he moved through the crowd, his head a foot above the rest, not at all unlike Nick’s. Using his broad shoulders, the sheriff maneuvered his way through the masses and stepped in front of Mason to block his path. “Mason, my good man. Long time.” He patted Mason on the back and then moved in for a hug.
“Too long.” A wide smile split Mason’s face as they embraced. Nick watched the exchange, taking in the way Mason’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree, and the way the two touched with intimate recognition. “I was hoping to run into you,” Mason added, then turned to Nick. “Nick, this is Jack Roberts, a good friend of mine.” Mason turned back to Jack. “Nick’s staying with us for the holidays,” he explained.
With his shoulders squared and his body tense, Jack turned to him, and they stood eye to eye. With an unwavering glare, Jack stared at Nick, his mouth set in a grim line as he sized him up. Intuitive intelligence told Nick the man was trying to decide if he was friend or foe. After a long thoughtful moment, Jack’s body relaxed, obviously having decided that Nick posed no threat to his relationship with Mason. Jack thrust his hand out.
“Nice to meet you, Nick.”
Apparently, as Mason had explained to Nick before, he didn’t give off the right kind of vibes—whatever the hell that was—and no one in their right mind would ever mistake him for gay.
After shaking the sheriff’s hand, Nick scanned the rink in search of Rachel. When he spotted her laughing and cavorting in the middle of the frozen pond with some local playboy, gripping a white Styrofoam cup like it was her lifeline, anger rose sure and swift, and possession like he’d never felt before raged through his blood and caught him off guard.
What the hell . . .?
As
his gaze lit on them, his mind raced. Okay, so he might not know her well, but he sure as hell knew her well enough to know that she didn’t chase after playboys. Guys who’d use her up and toss her away like she was a disposable coffee cup, with no regard for her needs and desires. Rachel was bright and astute, and because of her profession, she had an excellent understanding of human nature. Which left Nick with one conclusion—she knew exactly what she was getting herself into. He paused to consider that a moment longer, and then suddenly understanding dawned. Fuck. If she was looking for a hot Christmas fling, he damned well wanted to be the guy to give it to her, not some asshole who cared nothing about her. At least he’d be gentle, caring, and considerate, and take the time to understand and consider all her needs.
The sheriff must have sensed his rising fury. Jack leaned into Mason, gestured with a nod toward Rachel, and spoke in quiet words. “What’s gotten into her anyway? She never had the taste for guys like Luke before. You want me to do something about it?” He cracked his knuckles in anticipation. “Just say the word, Mason.”
Mason looked past Jack’s shoulder. “What the fuck—” He took one step toward her, but Nick stopped him.
“I got this.”
“Forget it, Nick.” Mason jabbed his thumb into his cashmere coat. “She’s my sister—”
Nick put a placating hand on his friend’s shoulder. “No, Mason, really, I got this. You two go get caught up, and I promise I’ll make sure she gets home safely.”
Mason was about to protest, but Jack spoke up, “I think Nick’s the man for the job, Mason.”
After Mason conceded, Nick and Jack exchanged a knowing look, then Nick carefully picked his way across the slippery ice. He shot a glance back over his shoulder to catch Mason staring at his sister, deep worry lines etched across his forehead, and it occurred to him just how protective Mason was of her, and how protective the sheriff was of her.
Just how protective he was of her.
He turned back around and focused on Rachel, and for the briefest of moments he could see uncertainty clouding her big dark eyes as she blinked up at Luke. Nick immediately got the sense that she was moving past her comfort zone. His gut clenched, and everything in him reached out to her.
Having learned early on in life—thanks to his volatile parents—to either mind his own business or use humor to diffuse a situation, he stepped up to her and cupped her elbow, signaling his intent. “There you are.”
She spun around, and her eyes dimmed with relief. He noted the play of emotions across her face and wondered what she was thinking and how she would react when he hauled her the hell out of there.
“Nick,” she said breathlessly, and the scent of rum and eggnog on her breath hit him hard.
As his protective instincts came out full force, he conjured a smile, pulled her from Luke’s tenuous grip, and, as expected, watched Luke steel himself. “Where do you think you’re going, little lady?” Luke hauled her back into his arms.
Nick’s gaze shifted and locked on Luke’s and in a deceptively calm voice he said, “She’s coming with me.”
“Like hell.” His voice grew loud, challenging, and the commotion quickly drew unwanted attention. Nick shot a glance around and scanned the spectators. Now was definitely not the time or place for this. He leaned into Luke and whispered into his ear. Luke’s head jerked back with a start. Eyes wide, he held both hands up, palms out, and then he gave a quick nod of his head. “Sure thing. She’s all yours.”
Satisfied that Luke wasn’t about to make an unwelcome scene, Nick put his mouth close to Rachel’s ear. “Let’s go.”
Eagerness washed over Rachel’s face, and she quickly nodded in acquiescence. “Where are we going?”
His gaze moved over her, taking in her ruddy nose and cheeks as well as her chattering teeth. A rush of tenderness overcame him. He softened his voice. “Home, Rachel. You’ve been out here too long. You’re damned near frozen to death.” He glanced at her feet. “Where are your boots?”
She pointed to the bench. He slipped his arm around her waist and ushered her across the ice. People bustled about as he cleared a spot for her on the wooden seat and sank to his knees in front of her.
Neither spoke as he leaned forward and went to work on removing her skates. She angled her head to watch and her fragrant hair brushed against the back of his neck. Her warm familiar scent curled around him and he drew it into his lungs. As his senses exploded, the enticing scent of jasmine worked its way through his veins and pooled in his groin. Goddamn, what the hell was the matter with him? He couldn’t seem be around her without getting a raging hard-on.
He could feel her eyes on him, studying his every movement, and all he wanted to do was press his mouth to hers and kiss every inch of her body.
Just then someone tapped him on the shoulder. His muscles tightened in preparation, as he half expected to see Luke standing over him. He slanted his head, and saw a kid grinning like the Cheshire Cat and pointing upward. Nick followed the direction and spotted a cluster of mistletoe hovering over Rachel’s head.
“You gotta kiss her, mister,” the kid yelled out, and started skating circles around them while chanting, “You gotta kiss her. You gotta kiss her.” The kid’s enthusiasm was contagious and despite himself he chuckled. Rachel quickly joined in, and it was the first time he heard her laugh, really laugh. Her entire face lit up and he became hyperaware of the way it affected him. “You gotta kiss her. . . .”
Just how many candy canes had the child eaten anyway? Nick slipped his hand around the boy’s waist to still him. “Okay, okay, kid, I get it.” The child shimmied out of his hold, snickered loudly, and skated off to torture some other unsuspecting soul. Nick glanced at Rachel to gauge her reactions, but she was already wetting her plump lips.
Instantly drunk with need, he felt all rational thought flee his mind like a group of mountain climbers facing an avalanche. “What was it that kid said again . . . ?” His voice was so dark and desirous he hardly recognized it.
“You gotta kiss her. . . .” Rachel provided.
A jolt of sexual energy leaped between them and the hunger inside him consumed his every thought. When she inched forward, the invitation proved too powerful for him to deny. The sight of her parted lips shattered his resolve. He pressed his mouth to hers, let out a low groan, and drank in her sweetness. Goddamn, she tasted better than he’d ever imagined. And trust him, over the last few hours, he’d imagined. A lot.
Her body relaxed into him and she moaned against his burning mouth and probing tongue. Before they had time to finish what they started, someone bumped into them, knocking Rachel off the bench, and knocking some well needed common sense into him.
She fell with a thud, her socked feet still draped over the bench. Sprawled out on her back, Rachel groaned, rubbed her head, and said, “Damn, that’s going to hurt in the morning.”
Nick pushed her boots on, jumped up, grabbed her hand, and hauled her to her feet. Their bodies collided, their groins bumped and he wondered if she could feel his rock-hard erection straining against his zipper. Needing desperately to lighten the mood, he said, “No more rum and eggnog for you.”
Feigning insult she pumped her finger into his chest. Now how she made that gesture feel erotic, he’d never know. “Hey, mister, falling had nothing to do with the rum and eggnog, which I might add was very tasty. Maybe we should get another.”
Rolling his eyes, he shook his head. “I think you’ve had enough.”
She held up her mittened hand. “This is hardly too many.”
Nick couldn’t help but laugh when he looked at her mittened hand, unable to tell how many digits she was holding up.
A loud hiccup came out of nowhere, and she covered her mouth and chuckled. “I only had three, but I’m not much of a drinker,” she confessed. “I don’t really have a taste for it.”
He smiled when she used Mason’s favorite expression. “Nooo . . .” He exaggerated that one word. “I never would have guess
ed.”
She planted her hands on her hips and glared at him, but she couldn’t keep the amusement from her voice. “Nick Grant, are you mocking me?”
He pointed to her. “You? I wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”
She opened her mouth, to come back with some smart-ass comment no doubt, but he cut her off and caught her hand in his. “Come on, let’s get you home.”
The sound of the crowd dwindled at their backs as they made their way down the deserted road. A comfortable silence fell over them, and the clouds overhead peeled back to reveal a mosaic of glistening stars. Icy branches sparkled beneath the moonbeams and cast shadows on the ground below. It was cold and wintry, but a beautiful evening nonetheless.
After a long while, Rachel broke the silence. “What did you say to Luke?” she asked through clattering teeth.
He put his arm around her to help keep her warm body and shot her a playful grin. “I told him I was your gynecologist, and you were late for your herpes treatment.”
She stopped dead in her tracks. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened, but he couldn’t help noticing the admiration lingering beneath. “Ohmigod, you didn’t?” she asked, her voice laced with both shock and humor.
“Yeah, I did.” He suddenly recalled the doubt he’d spotted in her eyes and his smile dissolved. “What were you doing with that guy anyway? He doesn’t seem like your type.”
For the briefest of seconds she looked like she was about to tell him, but then she quickly steered the conversation away from herself, a habit he was becoming increasingly familiar with. “It’s cold, we should hurry.”
He sensed she was holding something back, but decided not to press. Once again, silence reigned as they continued their way back to the Reddy homestead. As he guided her around a slushy, half frozen pothole, he felt her eyes on him again. He cast her a sidelong glance and arched a brow. “What?”