All He Wants For Christmas

by Elisabeth Naughton, Alexandra Ivy, Cynthia Eden, Katie Reus, Laura Wright, Skye Jordan

  He pushed into the store. “Thanks.”

  She pointed toward the left. “Back corner. Aisle eighteen.”

  He walked backward that direction, his smile still on full blast. “Eighteen’s my lucky number. Does that mean you’ll have dinner with me now?”

  “The last seven days you’ve been in, you’ve had seven different lucky numbers.”

  He spread his arms out to the side. “Every time I see you, I’m lucky.”

  She grinned. “Good line. Really good. Go get your safety cones.”

  “You’re rockin’ those jeans, beautiful.”

  “You always say that too.”

  “Because you always rock your jeans. But those are special. Those are the ones you were wearing the night we met. The ones with the sparkles on the pockets. As if I needed help keeping my eyes on your ass.”

  She laughed. A real laugh. “Another good one. Don’t waste all the best ones on me.”

  “Nothing spent on you is wasted.” He turned and jogged down the aisle.

  Faith rubbed her hot cheeks. No man had ever been so forward, so bold, or so confident with her as Meier.

  “What the heck are you going to do with safety cones at this time of night?” she asked, waiting by the door.

  “Hockey practice,” he said, voice distant. “I’m gonna whoop those kids’ asses into shape with some skating drills.”

  She grinned and, for about the tenth time, thought about going out and watching him with the kids since she’d heard he was working with Dwayne. But she really didn’t have the time, and she really didn’t need him mistaking that as romantic interest.

  “Aren’t these kids going to get any Christmas break?”

  “They need to stay busy just as much as Dwayne does. It’s good for all of them.”

  That sweet feeling she got more and more often around this guy opened in her chest. He might be a little on the arrogant side, but he was a really good guy.

  When he finally came back with a stack of cones, she held the door open for him. “Pay tomorrow, when you come in for something else.”

  He stopped at the door. “Why don’t you come to practice, watch the kids. I’m going to have them doing things they think they’re really good at, but they’re not. They’re going to try and show off and end up falling on their butts or their faces all night. I can guarantee at least a belly laugh or two.”

  “Thanks, but I still have a lot to do before my day is over. And I’m not really too into sports nowadays.”

  “Huh.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek with a contemplative frown. “That’s a definite change from high school. You were plenty into football back then.”

  “We all make mistakes.” Faith forced a smile, but Dillon’s betrayal still burned. Not because she wanted him all these years later, but because he’d left at such a vulnerable time in her life, and for such a shallow reason. “Have fun with the kids.”

  He gripped the edge of the door and leaned into it, easing to within a couple inches of Faith. And he smelled good. Really good. Warm, spicy, male. And his voice was low and sweet and serious when he said, “Can I get a kiss for luck?”

  “You don’t need luck.” She forced the words out, but her nerves shivered over her skin and her stomach flipped.

  He lifted his hand and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Can I get a kiss anyway?”

  Wow, she was suddenly having a really hard time breathing. And her whole body bloomed with an ache she couldn’t ever remember feeling before. “No.”

  Her denial came out weak and breathy and made her want to roll her eyes.

  His fingers slid down her cheek, held her chin gently, his thumb brushing her bottom lip. “I’m dying to taste you.”

  Holy crap. Her eyes slid closed, and it took every ounce of strength she had left from the day to step back. “Go play with the other kids, Meier Grant.”

  His hand dropped away, and the disappointment in his expression seemed so…real. Faith reminded herself that he was only disappointed that he wasn’t getting his way. It had nothing to do with her.

  He sighed. “Don’t work too hard.”

  Then he was strolling down the steps, sliding behind the wheel of his expensive SUV and backing out of the lot. As Faith started toward the basement where dozens of delivery boxes awaited her, she ran her fingers over the lip he’d caressed and wondered what it would be like to kiss a man with so much self-confidence, so much perseverance, so much passion. What it would be like to kiss a man like Meier, not a boy like Dillon.

  Faith was still thinking about kissing Meier a couple of hours later when she’d finished unloading the last box, but now, after considering the idea without him creating an electrical charge in her blood, Faith was absolutely sure he was way out of her league.

  Like way out.

  The thought both disappointed and comforted her. Gathering the influx of outlet covers, nuts, bolts, and screws, she headed upstairs to stock, reminding herself that while she might need a distraction, she didn’t need more stress. And just standing in the same room with Meier created stress. A sexual type of combustible stress.

  “That man is definitely off-lim—”

  Psssssssss….

  Faith’s feet froze on the stairs, her ears perked to the new, high-pressured hiss coming from somewhere adjacent to the storage room. It was the kind of sound that prickled the skin on the back of her neck with alarm.

  She turned and started back to the basement, her mind searching for the cause. The explosion shocked her, and Faith tripped over her own feet. She let out a cry just before she hit the cement stairs. Pain cracked through her butt and back, stealing her breath. The box she’d been carrying slammed against the wall, then the floor, spraying silver screws like confetti.

  Faith used her hands to stop her momentum and brace herself once she’d come to a stop. But several moments passed before she could get control over her breathing to ease the pain that stabbed along her back and butt.

  When it finally eased enough to let her draw full breaths, her other senses came back, and a new horror flooded in—the sound of gushing water.

  * * *

  “Okay, here we go, boys,” Meier called once the kids were in position for their last drill of the night. “Remember, you’re passing while you’re moving, so make sure to pass the puck hard and in front of your teammate. Then pivot, catch the shot from the next man down the line and shoot it up the ice.”

  He blew his whistle, and the kids rolled into action. Meier floated on the edge of the ice, his gaze on feet and hands, on pivots and shots, while Dwayne paced the sidelines.

  “Talk it up, guys,” Meier told them. “You should always be talkin’ to each other out there. If you want something, call for it. Giddy-up, let’s go.”

  “Giddy-up?” Dwayne said, incredulous. “Is that the shit they teach you in the big leagues?”

  “Shut up.” Meier grinned. “Johnson, tighter turns. Parker, move those feet. Whoa, Healy, what in the hell was that? You control the puck, the puck doesn’t control you.”

  That brought some laughter.

  “Good.” He called out encouragement. “Nice.” And as the last few members of the team passed up the ice, Meier clapped to get the team’s attention. “Other way, same drill. Speed, accuracy, focus. Go.”

  His phone chimed. Without looking away from the boys, he answered, but instead of saying hello, he lowered the mouthpiece and yelled, “Jordy, you here to socialize or practice? Cut the bullshit. If I have to tell you again, the whole team’s gonna be doing sprints.”

  A collective groan rolled through the group, and Jordy received a number of shoulder shoves, which shut him right up.

  Smiling, Meier lifted the phone to his mouth. “Meier Grant.”

  “Hey.” Faith’s voice broke Meier’s concentration. “Sounds like you’re taking a play out of my hard-ass rule book.”

  “Uh”—he was momentarily struck dumb by the sound of her voice over the line, something he
was beginning to believe he’d never hear—“well, you know, kids. Gotta be on ’em every second. I should know, I was one once.”

  She laughed, but she sounded off. Out of breath? Or…tipsy?

  “So, I was wondering if you could stop by the store after practice.”

  His mind flashed to the sight of Faith in the window above the hardware store, and something in his chest somersaulted. “Really?” His overly eager response made him cringe a little, and he yanked himself back down to earth. “You’re not just messing with me?”

  A beat of silence hung before she filled it with a hasty, “Really.”

  Excitement burst through Meier in one hot explosion. A reaction he had absolutely no control over. He tilted his face toward the sky and pumped his fist with a silent Yes. Then pulled himself together, turned his back to Dwayne, and murmured, “I’ll be there.”

  “Great.”

  “And Faith?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Normally, I prefer red, but on you, pink. It’s your color.”

  A moment of silence, then, “Pink.”

  “Yeah.” The thrill bubbling through his blood at the thought of her in something sexy and skimpy and pink rivaled a goddamned hat trick. “Be there in fifteen.”

  He disconnected and glided to the mats at the edge of the ice. “I’ve gotta get going,” he told Dwayne. “Let me know when you need me again.”

  Meier unlaced his skates, threw on his guards, and pushed into his running shoes in thirty seconds flat.

  “Where’s the fire?” Dwayne asked.

  St. Nicholas Hardware. And Meier planned on turning it into an inferno before dousing the flames.

  He gave Dwayne a two-fingered salute and jogged to his SUV. He set his skates on the passenger-side floorboard and headed toward town.

  With edgy alternative rock shaking the car and his mind spiraling through his first time with Faith—feeling her, tasting her, hearing her, experiencing her—Meier was primed and pumped when he stepped into the store. It was dark, one rear light barely illuminating the space.

  He was just about to call for her when her voice floated up from the basement. “I’m down here.”

  Meier frowned. “Um, okay…”

  At the bottom of the stairs, he found three feet of water covering the concrete floor and Faith soaking wet. She reached high to add a box to the top of a shelving unit, glancing over her shoulder.

  “Thanks for coming. Hope I didn’t ruin your practice.”

  All his excitement leaked from his chest and his shoulders sank. He hooked his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans and tilted his head. A pipe had obviously broken, and it hadn’t happened in the last fifteen minutes.

  She’d played him.

  Well.

  “I’m still not sure why the pipe broke,” she said, skipping the explanation. “Everything’s insulated. Maybe just one expansion too many. I got the water turned off pretty fast, and I have everything I need to replace the pipe, which I can do myself, but there’s one fitting that’s on so tight, nothing I do will loosen it. I’ve called three plumbers, none of whom are available for a minimum of three days—so much for emergency plumbers, right? I just need your brawn. The problem is that the pipe blew right at an elbow, and to fix it, I’ve got to get the elbow off. But it’s crimped down so tight, I can’t move it, and wouldn’t you know it, I don’t have another one the right size in stock. If you can just loosen the fitting for me, I can do the rest myself.”

  “You can do the rest yourself, huh?”

  “Yeah,” she said, her smile way too sweet, her expression way too innocent. “Unless you want to fix my pipes while you’re here, Mr. Fix-it.”

  Meier exhaled heavily. “I’d like to fix your pipes, all right, but this wasn’t what I had in mind.”

  Her face pinked up, her gaze lowered, and she pushed her hands into her back pockets. The move made Meier focus on her chest. Made him realize she was wearing a white T-shirt. A wet white T-shirt.

  “You don’t have to help if you don’t want to,” she said, “but you did tell me to call you for anything.”

  Fine. He could play this game too. He crossed his arms. “Do you realize how much emergency plumbers get paid? They’re not cheap.”

  A look of surprise touched her eyes. “I know. Have you been gone so long you’ve forgotten how friends do favors for friends?”

  “A favor for a friend sounds something like this: Hey, one of my pipes broke. Think you could come over and give me a hand?”

  Her mouth twisted, and her gaze dropped away. “Well, I could pay you, but I think it’s a safe bet you don’t need the money.”

  “Very safe.” He toed off his running shoes. “But there is something I really need.”

  She shot him a wary look. “I’m afraid to ask.”

  “Then I’ll just tell you. I need that kiss I didn’t get earlier.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You do not.”

  “Oh, yeah. I do.” He assessed the water, then met her gaze again. “So before I give you what you want, I want to know if you’ll be giving me what I want when I’m done.”

  “Meier”—she laughed his name—“I don’t know what you expect, but I’m not—”

  “What I expect,” he said with a seriousness to match her carelessness, “is a kiss.”

  “Fine.” She huffed, and met his gaze with hers burning with frustration. “Whatever.”

  Whatever? He’d never had to bribe a woman into kissing him. And he’d certainly never had that reaction. But Faith Nicholas had slowly gotten under his skin over the last week, and she wouldn’t leave his dreams until he’d tasted her.

  When she turned out to be no different from all the other women he slept with, he’d be able to leave her alone, ride out the rest of his time here, judge the stupid ice-carving contest, and go back to New York, where at least the women didn’t whatever him.

  She moved to the bottom of the stairs, rummaged in a toolbox there and offered him a flashlight and a pair of pliers. Meier took them, and waded into the water in search of the damaged pipe.

  “Don’t you have a girlfriend back in New York?” she asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with you?”

  He chuckled. “There might be a lot of things wrong with me, but my life is the way it is because that’s how I like it.” He clamped the end of the small flashlight between his teeth, then gripped the fitting with the pliers and twisted. The metal spun a little but didn’t loosen. He took the flashlight from his mouth to say, “I need another pair of pliers.”

  Metal clanged against metal as she searched for more tools.

  “Why don’t you have a boyfriend?” he asked.

  “Because I was taking care of my dad and running the store. I haven’t had time for anything else.” She offered him another pair of pliers. “Here.”

  But Meier’s mind was on the conversation he’d had with Dwayne and the information she’d shared about her father’s death over the past few days. He’d known Dillon had bailed on her in college, but he hadn’t realized she hadn’t had a relationship since.

  “What?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “I think you have to be the most unselfish person I’ve ever met.”

  “Don’t look at me like I’m a saint.” She broke his gaze. “I’m not completely unselfish. I just put his needs before mine for a while. He did it for a lot longer while he was raising me alone.”

  Meier shook his head, unable to categorize all the emotions swirling in his chest. “Dillon was a stupid prick. Letting you go was definitely his loss.”

  “Yeah, well, when you’re in the spotlight with everyone telling you how fantastic you are all the time, I guess your feet start to lift off the ground. And when you feel a little higher and mightier than others, I guess your needs somehow seem a lot more important than others’.”

  While Meier was still looking at her, all the puzzle pieces that created Faith Nicholas seemed to fall in
to place. And Meier’s stomach dropped. He was no better than the man he’d just called a stupid prick.

  “You’re right,” he said, adequately humbled. “That does happen. It’s good to be reminded we’re mortal every so often.”

  He replaced the light between his teeth, positioned the pliers, and used all his strength to twist. Three tries later, the fitting loosened and the elbow separated from the vertical pipe. After cutting the attached piece, he sloshed toward her with the bad length of copper.

  Faith’s face burst into a bright grin, and she clasped her hands beneath her chin. “Oh, thank you so much. I’m so glad it didn’t turn into something horrible. These things can go bad so fast, you know? If I couldn’t get water flowing again tonight, I was afraid—”

  “Faith.” He cupped her cheek in one hand and settled the pipe on a shelf before using the other to frame her face. “Stop rambling so I can kiss you.”

  “Yeah, um, that. Meier—” When he leaned in, she pressed her fingers to his lips. He searched her eyes and found nerves popping there. “It’s been a really long time since I, you know, kissed a guy. I just…don’t want you to be disappointed.”

  A sweet ache pulled deep in his chest. He slid one arm around her waist, and with the other hand, gently pulled her fingers from his lips. Letting his eyes fall closed, he kissed each of her fingertips, and when her body softened, he turned his head and laid his lips against hers.

  No demand, no pressure, just a soft press of lips. And when Faith exhaled, Meier smiled and pulled back, stroking her cheek. “Not so bad, right?”

  A smile flicked over her features, and she nodded. Barely. And she kept her eyes on his mouth, like she wanted more but wasn’t sure how to go about getting it. Her tongue darted out and wet her lips, and the sight sparked fire deep in his body.

  He brushed her hair back and murmured, “Like riding a bike.”

  He kissed her again, acutely aware of her every move, her every breath. Ready to pull back if necessary, but anxious to push forward. And when her lips puckered against his, he took the kiss deeper, adding pressure, suckling, licking.

  Finally, he pulled back just enough to whisper, “Open for me, Faith. Let me taste you.”