by Sara Cate
About the Author
Amanda Richardson writes from her chaotic dining room table in York, England often distracted by her husband and two adorable sons. When she's not writing contemporary and dark, twisted romance, she enjoys coffee (a little too much) and collecting house plants like they're going out of style.
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Also by Amanda Richardson
Love at Work Series:
Between the Pages
A Love Like That
Tracing the Stars
Say You Hate Me
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HEATHENS Series (Dark Romance):
SINNERS
HEATHENS
MONSTERS
VILLAINS (coming 2022)
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Standalones:
The Realm of You
The Island
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Ruthless Royals Duet (Reverse Harem):
Ruthless Crown
Ruthless Queen
Unwrap Him
BY NYLA K.
Copyright © 2021 Nyla K.
All rights reserved.
Cover Design by JCZ Creations
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Proofreading services: Nice Girl Naughty Edits
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Unwrap Him is the intellectual property of Nyla K.
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Except permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without prior written permission of the author.
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, popular culture, corporations, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Created with Vellum
To Daddies everywhere.
“Unwrap Him”
An MM guardian/ward romance
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’Twas the night before Christmas…
A secret was looming.
The lust in my heart had become too consuming.
Make no mistake, no blood do we share,
But my guardian was the man whose cross I did bear.
With his icy coal eyes, and peppermint lips,
Under mistletoe I stood, no chance to resist.
For it was on none other than this cold silent night,
That I gave into wrong, and it felt so damn right.
Chapter 1
James
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“You’re breaking up with me??”
My eyes are wide. I can feel them, bugging out of my head like one of those rubber stress-reliever toys.
Leslie sits at the table across from me, arms folded, appearing particularly stone-faced. I can’t tell if she’s pissed that I’m actually shocked at her ending our relationship, or if she’s just pissed at me in general.
“Because I can’t come home with you for Christmas…” I mutter to fill the silence, blinking over my rounded eyes.
“No, James. Not because you can’t come home with me for Christmas.” She glares at me. “Because you won’t. There’s a big difference.”
“I can’t leave Jesse—”
“There’s that word again!” She snaps, then glances around the cafe we’re sitting in to ensure no one’s looking. The place is practically empty. “You damn well can… if you wanted to. He’s eighteen. He’ll be fine.”
I rake my fingers through my hair. “That’s not the point. I’m not going to leave him alone for Christmas. I’m the only family he has.”
Leslie keeps her lips zipped, brows furrowing in a petulant scowl that boils my blood just a tad.
“It’s not like you even invited him to come along…” I mumble, knowing full well it’s a stupid argument.
Jesse wouldn’t have wanted to come along.
“Therein lies yet another problem, James,” she sighs. “We’ve been together for two years and I barely know your… son. He obviously doesn’t like me. We never spend any time together… I mean, you don’t even let me stay over your house. It’s like you’re purposely keeping me away from him.”
“That’s not true…”
“It is.” She grips the table in frustration, leaning in to whisper-shout at me. “I wanted you to finally meet my parents. I was hoping this would give us a push in the right direction. But as expected, you want no part of it. You’re not interested in taking our relationship to the next level, and you’re sure as shit not interested in welcoming me into your two-person family.” She sits back, gathering her purse. “So we’re done.”
“Les, just hear me out,” I stammer, my thoughts clouding up with what I think I should say. Anything I could do to fix this… Within reason, of course.
“No more excuses, James.” She stands. “We’re finished. Merry Christmas.”
And then she leaves.
She walks right the fuck out of the cafe, leaving me sitting alone at a table, staring at the lipstick on her coffee cup.
I’m not sure why I’m surprised. Things with Leslie have never really felt permanent, which clearly doesn’t work for a woman in her thirties who just wasted two years on a man she probably should have sensed was unlikely to commit.
Leslie was the first person I’ve been serious with since high school. I suppose I’m what you would call a chronic bachelor. I’ve dated girls, but my default setting is to keep it casual.
Thinking about settling down has always caused some significant discomfort in my gut.
Relationships just aren’t at the forefront of my mind. My focus remains on building my business and providing a stable home environment for my kid.
Honestly, Leslie’s not wrong in her grievances. I have a tendency to keep Jesse in a bubble. Maybe it’s because I’m so afraid of him getting hurt, or attached. But then those things don’t really seem to satisfy my inner turmoil.
The fact is that eighteen years ago, I made a promise to my best friends in the entire world. At the time, I never imagined I’d have to fulfill that promise. But here we are.
And if a relationship has the potential to in any way compromise my ability to protect Jesse, then I’d rather just avoid the notion altogether.
Twenty minutes of aggrieved simmering later, I pick myself up, dust myself off, and leave the damn cafe. But not without first buying Jesse one of the cake pops he likes. I decide to go back to work for a couple of hours and wrap some things up, since I’ll be out of the office for a few days. Christmas, and all.
In my SUV, the radio is on, but I’m too deep in my thoughts to recognize the holiday tunes mumbling in the background. The streets are covered in white after the fresh coat we got last night. According to the weather forecast, Maine will be having a very white Christmas this year. It’s supposed to keep snowing tonight, and all throughout the holiday.
My vehicle is good in the snow—pretty much a requirement when you live in the Northeast—but the occasional slips of even my all-wheel drive bring back memories…
Of the night my life changed forever.
Pushing it away, I pull up to my building, parking right by the front door. I trudge through the snow in my black boots, slinking inside and closing the door behind me, reveling in the warmth, a stark contrast to the twenty-degree temperatures outside.
Wandering through the reception area, I push open the double-doors, immediately hit with a new wave of heat, and the pungent scent of the grow. We’re in between harvests at the moment, which gives us some downtime for the holiday. But it’s always balmy as hell in here because… ya know. The plants need warmth. At all times.
I own a licensed marijuana grow facility, right here in my hometown of Winthrop. The business took off a few years ago, shortly after it was legalized, and it’s been prov
iding me with a steady stream of income ever since. It’s still a pretty small setup, but only because I like it that way. I keep my operations to a tight-knit group of employees I trust, and really, I have no desire to expand, though I’m sure I could.
The guys who work for me, I’ve known since high school. I grew up in this town, for the most part. And now I own a business here, I live here, and I guess that makes me a townie, though I kind of resent that sort of label because I’m not the guy who walks into a bar like Cheers, where everyone knows my name. Maybe they do, but I’d prefer not to be greeted that way.
I keep to myself.
Puttering around the facility, I check on orders, talk with the guys who are still here, and make sure we’re all set to be closed for days. It’s entirely unnecessary for me to even be here right now, but I guess I’m trying to distract myself.
For as much as I always sort of knew things with Leslie wouldn’t stick, getting dumped still sucks. It’s a shot to the ego for sure, and yet another reminder that I’m sailing through my thirties with no hope of doing the normal thing and starting a family.
But the more interesting part is how secretly relieved I am by that fact.
My life isn’t normal. It hasn’t been since I was nineteen and I inherited a two-year-old.
Checking my watch, I find that it’s after five in the evening. Everyone’s itching to go home, which is what I should be doing, too; heading back to our quiet little house to spend yet another Christmas with the only person I have to worry about in this world.
Back in the car and driving slowly over the icy roads, I think about my parents. I don’t think about them often, but the holidays usually bring about these kinds of musings.
An only child to two dope fiends, I emancipated myself legally at seventeen. After that, my friends became my family, and the two best ones I had were Trent and Himla. We grew up together, basically inseparable, in similar familial situations. Which is why when Himla became pregnant, it was never a question as to who would be the baby’s godfather.
Unfortunately, I never anticipated it being a job I’d have to take on only two years later.
I still remember the night I got the call…
Fear crawls up my spine as the sounds of my own cries fill my memories. The shaking in my hands as I held a frightened two-year-old Jesse, whispering to him that everything would be okay, though I was severely unsure of those promises myself.
It’s something you can never prepare for… A loss and an unexpected gift all in one tragic night.
That’s what Leslie doesn’t understand. It could never be a choice.
When it comes to Jesse, nothing else matters.
Chapter 2
Jesse
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I’m placing a red bow on the gift box when I hear the front door slam.
Scrambling, I stuff it underneath the Christmas tree just in time as James shuffles around the corner. I use my body to block the wrapping paper on the floor, not that it really matters. People wrap gifts before Christmas. It’s nothing shocking.
He stomps up to me with his arm thrust out, a small paper bag clutched in his grip. I accept it graciously, though the waves of tension radiating from him don’t feel very Christmas-cheery.
“Thanks.” I open the bag to peek inside, a grin forming on my lips. Cake pop. Yum.
“You eat yet?” He grumbles, not waiting for an answer before he’s stalking toward the kitchen.
My brow furrows as I follow him. “It’s kind of early…” He glances at me over his shoulder when he reaches the marble island, cocking a brow. “But yea, I did,” I continue. “Like five times already.”
There’s the subtlest quirk to his mouth, though it looks like he’s trying to keep it contained.
I have a never-ending appetite, and when I’m on any kind of break from school, it’s usually a guarantee that I’ll spend half the day stuffing my face. Thank God for my fierce metabolism, I guess.
James turns back to whatever it is he’s doing, sorting through envelopes, a quiet, broody air about him. It’s not unusual. My father, for all intents and purposes, isn’t a wordy man. He’s a strong silent type for sure, and emotions turn him into even more of a statue.
I won’t say I don’t understand it, because I’m an introvert myself. But no one sulks quite like James McAllister.
And because I’m me, my need to fill awkward silences becomes an itch I can’t not scratch. “So when are you leaving for Boston?”
He stiffens. I can see it most in his hunched shoulders as he mutters, “That’s not happening.”
My surprise whirls. “What do you mean… You’re not going?”
He takes in a long breath, then turns slowly, leaning up against the island. “Leslie and I broke up.”
The sudden wave of feels hits me head-on, damn-near knocking me down. “Oh…” My mouth is just hanging open, for many generous seconds, before I follow it up with what I’m hoping comes out as a normal response. “What happened?”
He stares at me for a moment, dark gray eyes locked on mine in a way that makes my fingers twitch. I desperately want to look away, but I can’t. I’m stuck.
“She just… wasn’t the one,” he huffs, his tone final as he spins and saunters away, calling over his shoulder, “I’m gonna grab a shower. We can order pizza later, if you’re still hungry.”
And then he leaves me, standing like a stumped moron in the kitchen with my mouth agape.
Blinking myself out of it, my body’s first human reaction is a secret smile, tugging at my lips uncontrollably. I bite down on the bottom one to keep it in check.
They broke up. My heart is pumping wildly in my chest.
Of course I would never wish unhappiness for my adoptive father. He’s the only family I have in this world, and I definitely don’t want him to become a grumpy old hermit who never finds love.
But at the same time, after enduring two years of that snobby, pretentious woman, I can’t find it in myself to be upset about this news.
James deserves better. Let’s be real here… Leslie was a bitch. She didn’t like me, and I’ve never been able to figure out why, since she barely knew me at all. You’d think if you were trying to get serious with someone, you’d at least make an effort to bond with his son. But she hardly ever came around.
Part of me held onto that, knowing that if she were making more of an effort to get to know me, it might’ve actually worked out between them. I’d been secretly hoping she wouldn’t try, which she didn’t. Good. Who needs her?
Not my James. I mean, my father…
Ugh.
Shaking it off, I waltz back into the living room, a renewed sense of excitement flooding my limbs. I try to push it away, because it’s foolish. I would’ve been fine spending Christmas alone. I had plans, after all.
Bake enough cookies and cupcakes to fill a small village, then eat my feelings while watching Elf on repeat until I passed out from a sugar coma. I never said it wasn’t an entirely pathetic plan.
But now I get to spend my favorite holiday with the only person who matters to me. The person who makes everything good, who I can sit next to in complete silence for hours and hours and still feel nothing but contentment and comfort.
My… dad.
A sickening nausea slinks through my gut any time I think of him that way. Because of my own internal hang-ups I’ve been trying to stuff down for years.
Let’s not do this, Jesse. Lock it the fuck up and throw away the key.
Emotions war inside me as I plop onto the couch and turn on the TV. It’s already dark outside, and the only light in the room is coming from the Christmas tree and the fluttering glow of A Charlie Brown Christmas on the flatscreen.
I watch the movie, lost in my thoughts for the duration, and I’m trying not to ruminate on it, but James has been upstairs a while.
I can’t help but wonder if maybe he wants to talk about it… About the break-up.
They were together for two years
, after all. Even if I’m choosing to believe he didn’t love her, maybe he did. Maybe he’s… upset that they’re done. Not ecstatic like I am.
The next movie in the lineup, Rudolph, is playing as I hear him finally descend the stairs. I can tell by the noise he’s tinkering with the wood stove just around the corner, which is good. I’m wearing sweatpants, a hoodie, and fuzzy socks, but I’m still sort of cold. It’s frigid outside, reminding me of all the snow we’ve been getting.
Which then reminds me of the car accident that took my parents.
I don’t actually remember it. I was only two. But I definitely have vague memories of my parents’ existence, and a strong awareness of it being snuffed out.
I was in the car with them that night…
They died. I lived.
And ever since that horrific night, I’ve been an orphan. Though not really, because my godfather, their best friend, took me in. He assumed guardianship and raised me. He was only one year older than I am now when he became my adoptive father. What a strange notion that is…
I can’t even imagine raising a kid right now. I’m a selfish teenager, and I like it that way. Not that I’m self-centered in any way whatsoever, but I like that I get to focus on myself at this point in my life. Next year, I’ll graduate high school and then the world is open and full of possibilities. Though the only path my stupid heart seems to want me to follow is the one leading to him…
Meaning right the fuck here.
I force those thoughts away as James walks into the room and up to the couch where I’m sprawled out. He pushes my legs out of the way so he can sit down, as he normally does. A simple and thoroughly uninteresting action, yet the feel of his hand lingers on the skin of my calf, even through the material of my pants.