by Lacey Black
“A ball signed by the whole team and three courtside tickets is like calling in a dozen favors,” Nate says.
“Yeah, I might owe him a little after this one,” Will says with a smile. I watch as he looks around me and connects with Zach. “It’s worth it, though.”
My heart slams into my chest like a hammer. The air I’m breathing literally gets caught in my throat as I absorb his words. The thought of Zach meaning so much to someone besides Nick or me is foreign, yet so comforting. The way Will just shrugs it off like it is completely natural for him to buy such a thoughtful and irreplaceable gift for my son is humbling. And a little bit of a turn-on.
After dinner, the entire Stevens family gathers in the family room, as they all get ready to unwrap presents. “Zach and I can go hang in the kitchen for a bit,” I offer to Will as we reach the entry to the living room.
“No way,” he says as he pulls me into the room.
There’s no seating left except on the floor in front of the warm stone fireplace. Will sits down and Zach instantly sits down on the floor beside him. They’re immediately talking about the upcoming basketball game while I silently sit on the floor next to Will. He sits back, extending his legs straight out in front of him. When he leans back, he puts a hand directly on the ground behind each Zach and me. His hand is dangerously close to my ass, which only makes me want to scoot back just a smidge.
“Zach, you know that you’re not getting any gifts, right? We’re guests here tonight, and that’s all. Okay?” I whisper without anyone around me hearing.
“I know, Mom,” Zach says before going back to his conversation with Will.
I watch as Brooklyn and Travis start to hand out the gifts. There are mountains in front of each child and several in front of Mr. and Mrs. Stevens. When one is placed in front of Zach, I’m shocked and know that it must be a mistake.
“That can’t be right,” I say to Will.
“Whose name’s on that tag, buddy?” Will asks Zach, casually.
“Mine!” Zach exclaims, his eyes filling with excitement.
“But, why? Who would have gotten him a gift? No one knew we were coming,” I ask Will.
“I called Mom last night when I left your place. She probably picked up something little for him so he wasn’t left out,” he says with a shrug.
The little ones all dive into their gifts with way too much energy. Zach watches with a smile on his face as the little kids open their gifts. He seems content to just watch, happily smiling at the joy of the little ones, which only proves that he would have made a great big brother. The nostalgia washes over me, and I’m suddenly a little sad again that I was never able to give him a sibling.
“Hey, you gonna open that?” Will asks Zach, nodding to the gift still wrapped on his lap.
“Yeah,” he says as he tears into the box. When he throws open the lid, it’s the second time today that I’ve seen my son speechless.
“What did you get?” Will asks, leaning over the box.
It takes Zach several moments before he pulls the jersey out of the box. Not just any jersey, but that of number twenty, Xavier Dillon – also known as Zach’s favorite player.
“How did they know?” I ask, my mouth gaping wide open as Zach lifts it up and places it against his chest as if trying it on for size.
“Something for you to wear to that game,” Mr. Stevens says with a warm smile from his easy chair.
I reach over and grab the tag from the gift, confirming my suspicion that the gift is from Will’s parents.
“Thank you so much,” Zach says in one quick breath. “I can’t wait to wear this to the game next month!”
“You’re welcome, Zach. Have the best time at the game, dear,” Mrs. Stevens says from her post on the couch. The smile she gives Zach, and then me, is warm and endearing. It’s the type of smile my mother usually has on her face – when I get to see her.
“Mom, how did you get this?” Will asks as he shakes his head from side to side.
“Oh, you’re not the only one with connections, Will,” she replies with a secret smile.
The two youngest boys are passing out for the night as their parents gather their new gifts and start loading them into the car. Will and Zach, along with the five men, all make trips to carry all the loot out to the vehicles. It’s probably a good thing Avery and Maddox have an SUV. Otherwise, I’m not sure where they’d put the kids on the ride home.
Zach has had a firm grasp on his jersey since he opened it. Will took it outside a few minutes ago when he ran out to warm up the car. Each trip Will makes into the house, I watch as he removes his glasses and cleans off the steam. It’s weird how that one little act could be so…sexy.
“Thank you so much for coming, dear,” Mrs. Stevens says as she gives me a big motherly hug.
“Well, thank you for allowing us to join you last minute,” I reply.
“Oh, you and your son are welcome here anytime. I’m so glad Will brought you along this evening,” she says with a small, knowing smile.
“Come back anytime,” Mr. Stevens says as he gives me a quick hug.
“Thank you, again,” I respond as I watch Will hug and kiss the cheeks of his sister and sisters-in-law. He definitely comes from a warm, loving family. It’s evident in the way he talks about them, but seeing them in person – the way they interact with each other – gives you that warm and fuzzy, feel-good feeling in the pit of your stomach. Will Stevens is a good guy.
Zach talks the entire trip home to our house. Excitement about the tickets, the autographed ball, and now the jersey, is going to come crashing down shortly. It’s already after eight, and while his bedtime isn’t for another hour, you can see the fatigue of the day in his sparkling brown eyes.
The air is bitter cold and a light dusting of snow sprinkles the ground as Will pulls into my driveway. “Come on. I’ll walk you up,” Will says as he throws his car into park but leaves it running.
Zach and I each get out and walk around the front of the car. Using my key, I open the door and am instantly assaulted by warm, inviting heat. It has been a long day, and I can’t wait to unwind with a glass of wine and a hot bubble bath.
“Thank you, Will. I can’t wait to show my dad this jersey and the ball,” Zach says enthusiastically.
“You’re welcome, buddy. You better run and get ready for bed,” Will says as Zach gives him another encompassing hug. I’m not sure who was caught off guard more – me or Will.
“Good night,” he adds as he turns and heads to his bedroom.
“I’ll never be able to top this Christmas. You realize what you’ve done, right?” I tease.
“Yeah, sorry,” he says as he pulls my body flush against his. And ‘flush’ is what happens to my entire body at the contact. Even though we’re both still in coats and gloves, Will’s nearness is enough to send me orbiting into another world. “You know what? I’m not that sorry. I’m happy to do it for him. And for you,” he adds moments before his lips attack mine.
Will’s glasses are steamed up, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Hell, he doesn’t need to see me to kiss me like this. His tongue parts my lips moments before he thrusts his tongue deep inside my mouth. The moan is instantaneous and deep, like it comes from the lower part of my belly. The part that feels like butterflies are in flight. The part that is churning with desire and pooling with need.
“I should go,” he whispers as he nips at the corners of my mouth. I don’t want him to go. I want him to stay. I want to see where this kiss leads. Hell, I know where this kiss will lead, and I want that too.
But then the rational side of my brain clicks back over and into control. Zach is here and there’s no way I’m going to be caught making out with an employee while standing in my living room. As much as I want Will to stay, I know that I must let him go. For now.
“Yeah,” I finally spit out, frantically trying to ignore the feel of his soft lips as he places feather light kisses on my lips and chin. I practically sway into him
as he slowly pulls back.
“Soon, Carmen. Zach goes to his Dad’s soon, right?”
“Yeah, but not until New Year’s Eve.”
“Then you have plans for New Year’s Eve,” he says, his glasses finally cleared up enough that I can see his beautiful blue eyes. Eyes that are dilated and wild with his own desire.
“I definitely have plans for New Year’s Eve,” I whisper just as Zach’s bedroom door opens. We both take a quick step back as we watch him head into the bathroom to brush his teeth.
“Good night,” Will whispers just before walking out the door.
“Night,” I say.
Automatically, my fingers trace the lines of my lower lip; the same path that Will’s lips and tongue made moments before. I can still feel him, taste him. My lips remember every detail of that kiss and each kiss before it. Will’s lips are sinful. Toxic. Deadly. And as much as I try to fight it, I want more. More kisses, sure. But more of everything else, too.
And as much as that should scare me, frankly, it’s just doesn’t.
Not anymore.
Chapter Nine
Will
“So, did you hear about Carmen?” Carlos says from behind me as I close my locker.
“No, what?” I ask, slightly annoyed that the shit-stirring is starting already and it’s barely even six a.m. There was a time when I used to enjoy exchanging a few nasty words about my boss, but that was before I got to know her. Really know her.
“I guess some guy called in this morning and said she’s sick. Everyone’s trying to figure out who the guy is. I mean, she doesn’t wear a wedding ring, so we don’t think it’s a husband. And what kind a guy wants to sleep with the ice queen every night, anyway?” he says as he slams his locker closed.
My mood instantly goes straight to pissed off. I’m fucking pissed and ready to fight. Pissed the hell off that “some guy” is calling in for Carmen when she’s sick. Pissed off that everyone thinks the worst of her. Pissed that I can’t tell them how wonderful she really is. I’m also confused as hell because I’m not a fighter. I’m not Jake or Nate. I don’t feel the need to throw punches to prove my point, yet the thought of someone badmouthing Carmen right now makes me want to throw my fist into his face. And Carlos is fitting the bill right now.
“Who called in?” I ask, trying for casually, but pretty sure I fail miserably.
“I don’t know. Whoever it was called in a few minutes ago to the desk in the ER. Just said she was really sick. Maybe she has big plans for New Year’s Eve tomorrow night and wants to start her celebrating early,” Carlos says with a smirk as he heads out of the locker room.
It only takes a few minutes before my jealousy starts to fade. Zach. It had to be Zach who called in sick for her, and if he was calling in on her behalf, then she must be pretty damn sick. I instantly feel a tinge of guilt for assuming that another guy could be calling in for her, and embarrassed that I started to let Carlos’ ribbing rub me the wrong way.
I know exactly where I’m going after work today. It’ll probably be the longest day ever as I drudge my way through the eight-hour work day, but knowing that I’ll see Carmen soon is a little settling. Especially if she’s sick. My need to take care of her is strong. Another foreign feeling. Besides my family, I’ve never really had this primal need before. It’s scary and exciting all at the same time.
Yeah, it’s definitely going to be a long ass day.
*****
As soon as I finish with shift change, I fly out of the hospital like I’ve been shot from a gun. I tried calling Carmen’s cell phone earlier when we had a break around noon, but the call went unanswered. So, now I’ve been fretting all friggin’ afternoon like a damn woman.
I pull into the familiar driveway and take the steps two at a time. Just as I start to raise my hand to knock, the front door flies open. Zach looks frantic with his eyes wide with fear. I barely give him time to step back as I step through the doorway. Okay, fine. I charge my way through.
“What’s going on?” I ask him as I quickly remove my coat, throwing it on the corner of the couch.
“I didn’t know how to call you,” he says, his voice cracking as he fights his emotions. “Mom has your number in her phone, I’m sure, but she keeps the screen locked and I don’t have her password.”
“It’s okay,” I say, pulling him into a hug. I wonder what he’ll do with the comfort I’m offering, but he steps in willingly and returns the gesture. “Anytime you need me, call the emergency room and ask for me. Tell them it’s an emergency and they’ll find me, okay?” I say, watching him nod up and down frantically. “Where is she?”
“In bed. She woke me up in the middle of the night puking her guts out. It was so gross,” Zach says as he makes a face that shows his disgust. “She’s been sleeping all day and she’s really, really hot and sweaty. I called Dad cause I didn’t know what to do and he said to make her take some aspirin. But then I couldn’t get her to wake up and take it.”
“Okay, you stay here and let me go check on her. I’ll be right back, buddy,” I say as I give Zach a shoulder squeeze and walk down the short hallway.
Carmen’s bedroom door is open as I approach. As I step inside, I’m instantly assaulted by two things: the smell of vomit mixed with sweat, and the sounds of her miserable groans. My heart splits in two on the spot.
I walk around the side of the bed and notice the bucket. I’m assuming that Zach brought that in here when he realized his mom was too weak to get up out of bed. Placing my hand on her forehead, I know immediately that she has a very high fever. I take quick inventory of the room before heading back out to join Zach in the living room.
“How is she?” he asks, jumping up off the couch as I enter the room.
“She has a very high fever that we need to try to get down. Can you grab a glass of water while I go into the bathroom and looks for some ibuprofen? We also need some cool washcloths. Maybe you could grab those while I move that bucket. I assume you took that in there, right?” I ask the still shaken twelve-year-old.
“Yeah, when I called Dad, he said to get her a bucket to puke in. I asked him to come and help me, but he was finishing up a deposition. He’s coming here tomorrow, though.”
“The bucket was a good idea,” I tell him as we split off to gather our supplies.
Inside the bathroom, I find an old fashion mouth thermometer and a bottle of ibuprofen. Zach joins me and grabs two washcloths, wetting them down quickly next to me. I’m back and kneeling next to Carmen’s bed moments later. Carmen is shaking from the fever, burrowing herself deeper and deeper into her down comforter, trying to keep warm. Unfortunately, she’s not helping the fever any by doing this. It takes several tries before I get her to release her hold on the blanket.
“Carmen, you need to sit up a bit and take some medicine, okay? You have a fever and we need to get it down, honey.” The term of endearment rolls off my tongue with such ease. I steal a quick glance at Zach to see if he noticed my slip, but he seems more concerned about his mother than my use of the cutesy, couple name.
Carmen moans and groans as I pull her placid body into a somewhat sitting position. She’s more like a limp noodle and definitely isn’t helping me out any. I reach over and grab two ibuprofen from the bottle. “Open up, Carmen,” I direct to which she slowly complies.
Her eyes slowly open as I place the small pills in her mouth. They’re still dark brown, but lack focus. Her beautiful eyes are now bloodshot and hazy. Her skin is pale and clammy. She has so much heat radiating off of her that I’m practically sweating sitting next to her while I hold her up.
“Good girl,” I say as I bring the glass of ice water up to her mouth.
Carmen sips greedily for a few gulps before losing her ability to sit up – which considering I was doing most of the work, is saying something. At least she has a little medicine in her body now. Let’s hope she keeps it down.
“I’m going to take your temperature,” I tell her as I turn on the thermo
meter. After several beeps, it finally signals it’s completion with one long beep. It reads 104.2 degrees. Dammit.
I notice she’s wearing what I assume was her pajamas from last night. Carmen is donning a white long sleeved, oversized cotton t-shirt and a pair of thick flannel pants. They’re wet and stuck to her curves and leave little to the imagination. It’s like a wet t-shirt contest gone wrong. I try not to be a complete bastard as I take in the shape of her tits pressed against the damp material, but the instant hard-on I’m suddenly sporting proves otherwise. I am a bastard.
“Hey, buddy, why don’t you go in the living room and play a video game. I’m going to get your mom changed into some clean, lightweight pajamas, and then I’ll come out and hang with you. Okay?”
“Sure,” he says as he walks towards the bedroom door. He turns around and gives his mom one last glance before exiting.
“Okay, honey, let’s try to get you into some clean, lightweight clothes,” I say more to myself than the lethargic woman in front of me.
In two steps, I’m standing in front of Carmen’s dresser. I start with the top drawer and set out to find her a change of clothes. This one is filled with panties and bras. I contemplate new panties, but honestly, the less clothes she’s wearing now the better.
Fever, dickhead. She’s got a damn fever.
Drawer two is the jackpot. I find a blue tank top with lace trim and matching plaid cotton shorts. The image of Carmen wearing these on a hot summer night while sitting in bed and reading invades my mind. I, of course, am sitting next to her in a pair of boxers, rubbing the smooth, soft skin of her leg.
Again, with the fucking hard-on.
Carmen says nothing as I slowly undress her. She’s not wearing a bra underneath her pajamas so my eyes are instantly drawn to her perky mounds. I try to look away, really I do, but I’m too weak. I’m a man for Christ sake, not a saint.
I lift her up as best as I can one-handed while pulling and tugging the tank top into place. It’s definitely challenging to dress a woman who’s basically passed out and not able to help in any way, shape, or form.