by Eve Gaddy
“This is the one,” she said firmly.
Lane came to pick them just as Wyatt finished cutting the tree. He climbed out of the sleigh to help Wyatt wrestle the tree onto the back end and tie it down. “You realize there’s a big hole on one side, right?”
“I’m not blind,” Wyatt said. “Mia picked it out. Don’t ask me why.”
“It’s missing a few limbs. Big deal. It’s still a beautiful tree.”
Both men stared at her, then Lane burst out laughing. “Yes, it is, Mia. You’re exactly right.”
“Did I say something wrong?”
Wyatt exchanged a look with Lane. “Not wrong. Lane’s a double amputee.”
“Oh, my God, I had no idea,” she said, mortified. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Lane said. “I thought it was funny. Besides, it is a beautiful tree.”
She gave Wyatt a dirty look and mouthed, “You are so dead,” before getting in the sleigh. Wyatt started to put his arm around her but she jammed her elbow into his stomach, hard. He gave a little grunt, then took the hint and dropped his arm. Pointedly ignoring him, she talked to Lane on the trip back. Though she was curious she didn’t ask him how he lost his legs, but he obviously figured out she wanted to know.
“I stepped on a land mine in Afghanistan.”
“I thought it might have happened there. I’m so sorry.”
“It happens,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’m alive and I have good prosthetics. I’m one of the lucky ones.”
After the tree was paid for, bundled with netting and tied to the roof of the SUV they started back to the Gallagher ranch. “Thanks a lot, Wyatt.”
“You’re welcome?”
“I’m not talking about the trip to the tree farm. I enjoyed that. But why in the hell didn’t you tell me about Lane? I felt like a fool.”
“What was I supposed to do? Say, oh, by the way, if you see Lane out there, he’s a double amputee? Besides, I didn’t even think about it.”
“You should have warned me.”
“Don’t worry about it. Lane thought it was funny.”
“I know he did. But I still think it bothers him more than he lets on.”
“Lane is one of the most well-adjusted people I know.”
“Yes, he seems very well-adjusted, but that doesn’t mean losing his legs doesn’t still bother him.”
People often held their deepest sorrows close. She should know. She’d yet to tell Wyatt about her pregnancy. Or that she’d miscarried her child. Her child, and his.
Chapter Four
When they got back to the ranch with the tree, Wyatt asked Dylan to help him set it up. Mia protested but he didn’t pay attention. Why ask someone who was five-foot-two to help when he could make his brother who raised horses for a living do it?
“Don’t pout,” Wyatt told her, amused. “You can look through the decorations.”
“While you big, strong men bring the tree inside? Aren’t you afraid sorting through those nasty old boxes will be too much for me?” She fluttered her eyelashes when she said it.
“No, smartass. I think you can handle it. It’s all in the living room. There are boxes of lights and other decorations, but I have no idea what shape they’re in. I’ll probably have to buy new lights, at the least.” They hadn’t dragged out the decorations in years.
Dylan hadn’t even known where they were, but Glory had, and in fact, had been thrilled they were going to decorate. She’d been afraid they wouldn’t even put up a tree. With the wedding taking place two days before Christmas, she thought they needed decorations, but she hadn’t felt it was her place to ask.
“Since when are you too shy to ask if you think something needs to be done?” Wyatt had asked her. Which, since she prided herself on not interfering, had pissed her off and consequently he’d had to grovel to get her to forgive him. Pissing off Glory was not a good idea.
Seeing the shape the boxes were in, Wyatt didn’t hold out hope that anything would be salvageable. He was just as glad to put Mia in charge of them.
After they brought the tree inside and set it up in the corner they’d agreed on, Wyatt admitted it was a pretty tree. With the limbless side facing the wall in the corner, anyway.
“Need some help decorating it?” Dylan asked.
“No.” The last thing he needed was his charming little brother hanging around.
“Of course you can help,” Mia said. “We’d love it.” She gave Wyatt an admonitory glance.
“No, we wouldn’t. Dylan’s got other things to do.”
“It’s his house, Wyatt. What’s wrong with you?”
Dylan was laughing his ass off, knowing good and well why Wyatt didn’t want him around. “Thanks, Mia, but I was just yanking Wyatt’s chain. I have a date tonight so you’ll have to decorate without me.”
“What a shame,” Wyatt said.
“Isn’t it, though?” Dylan smirked at him. “Glory left lasagna for you to heat up for dinner. I’m tempted to bring my date here instead of going out. Glory’s lasagna is legendary,” he told Mia.
“That would be fun,” Mia said. “Why don’t you do that?”
I’m going to kill him.
“I would, but I promised I’d take her for Chinese and to catch a movie.” He glanced at Wyatt and added, “Besides, I get the feeling Wyatt wants to be alone with you.” With that parting shot, he walked out.
“Do you?” Mia asked after a long moment.
“Do I want to be alone with you?” He might as well admit it. “Yes.”
Her brow furrowed. “Why?”
“Why do you think?” he asked, frustrated. No way was Mia this dense.
“I think we need to talk.”
“That wasn’t what I had in mind.”
“And that’s exactly what we need to talk about.”
He took hold of her hands and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s save it for later. Right now, we need to run into town to buy some new lights.”
“I haven’t looked at the old ones yet.”
Wyatt opened one of the boxes marked lights. There must have been ten or more strands in there, every one of them tossed in haphazardly. “I don’t know who put these up but there’s no way I’m trying to untangle that mess. Do you want to come with me?”
“All right. But we’re talking later.”
“Why don’t we eat first and then we can decorate the tree?” Wyatt said when they got back from town. “Would you like some wine?”
“Sure.” She followed him into the kitchen, still wondering what was going on with him. But she had a feeling she knew. He didn’t want her to be his girlfriend. He wanted a friend with benefits. And, oh, she was tempted. Maybe if she agreed he would finally see that she could be the woman he was looking for.
Yes, the woman who is lying to him. What will you do when he finds out? When you finally can’t stand the guilt and tell him what happened?
God, she was a masochist. “What can I do to help?”
“Nothing. Glory leaves everything so it’s easy to reheat for dinner.” He picked out a bottle of chianti from the wine rack, opened it and poured each of them a glass. “To Christmas,” he said, tapping his glass to hers.
“To Christmas,” she echoed.
Going to the refrigerator, he pulled out the lasagna and put it on the counter. Next came a big bowl of salad greens and a couple of dressings to go with it, and last he came out with a plastic container full of green beans. “Glory’s mother was from Texas, so she has some dishes that are definitely Texan or southern. These southern style green beans are one of them.”
“Everything looks good.” Knowing how little Wyatt cooked, she gave him points for microwaving previously cooked dishes. While he prepared their plates she put salad greens in the bowls he’d also set out.
A short time later she was seated at the big table where they’d eaten lunch earlier that day. Wyatt had brought the wine to the table, but instead of sitting down with her, he left the room. Soft C
hristmas music came from a set of overhead speakers. He returned with a couple of crystal candlestick holders with long white candles. He dimmed the lights, set the candlesticks on the table and lit the candles.
It was a setting out of a romance novel. Mia loved romance novels, but no matter how good and engrossing the book was, she knew it was a fantasy. Her life, her real life, was not working out with a happily ever after. She pushed aside the thought that maybe with Wyatt it could.
The salad was good, the lasagna and green beans as good as Wyatt had claimed.
“Wyatt?”
He looked at her. Was that an appreciative gleam he had in his eyes? How could she tell in candlelight? But his mouth—oh, damn, his mouth was a lethal weapon. She couldn’t stop thinking about kissing him.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Having a romantic, candlelit dinner,” he replied promptly. “Why, don’t you like it?”
“Of course I like it. Who wouldn’t? It’s just weird.”
“I don’t think it’s weird.”
“It’s weird,” she stated. “Unless you’re hitting on me. Is that what’s going on here, Wyatt?”
He took her hand and carried it to his mouth. Kissed the back of it, then turned it over and pressed a kiss to her wrist, then to her palm. “Would that be so bad?”
She didn’t answer. She was having a hard time breathing, much less talking.
“Do you ever think about it, Mia?” He stopped kissing her hand but he still held it. “About that night we spent together? Because I do. I think about it a lot.”
Damn Wyatt. Of course she thought about that night. It haunted her dreams, it haunted her waking hours. She remembered. And wondered.
Mia was in her pajamas, an old T-shirt and a pair of baggy pajama pants, watching a favorite movie when someone pounded on her door. Mindful of the rash of burglaries in her part of town that had started with a knock, she picked up her baseball bat before she went to the door. She looked through the peephole, tossed aside the bat and opened the door.
“Wyatt? What are you—oh my God, what happened to your face?” She pulled him inside as she spoke. “What’s wrong?” She shut the door and locked it. While he didn’t exactly reek of alcohol, she could tell he’d been drinking. Which was unusual in itself, since he rarely drank more than a couple of beers.
“I need a drink,” he said, not answering any of her questions.
“You need an ice pack and a washcloth more than a drink.” Clearly, Wyatt had been in a fight. Also not normal for him. There was a cut on one brow and his eyes looked like they’d be black by morning. Blood trickled from his nose and the corner of his mouth. There were red marks on his cheeks and his hair was disheveled. “Sit down, I’ll be right back.”
A few moments later she returned with a couple of ice packs, a wet towel, bandages, a half-filled bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey, and two glasses. She put everything on the coffee table, slapping his hand when he reached for the whiskey. “Clean up, ice, then whiskey. You didn’t drive, did you?”
He snorted, then cursed and held his nose. “Damn. No, I took an Uber.”
She set to work cleaning up the blood. Most of it came from the cut on his eyebrow. She staunched the flow then bandaged it. The blood from his nose and mouth had slowed to a trickle, so once she cleaned those up she left them alone. “Here, you can rotate the ice,” she said, handing him the packs. “I don’t think you can hold three at once.”
“Thanks.” One went on his eye, the other his nose.
“Who did you get in a fight with and who won?”
He stared at her with his uncovered eye while she dabbed at the blood she’d missed the first time around. “You’ve had practice at this,” he commented.
“Not really.” Finished, she took the bloody towels to the kitchen sink. When she returned, she poured whiskey into the two glasses. “Now, who you were fighting with? And does he look better or worse than you?”
He held out his hand for the glass. She gave it to him, watching him down half the liquor. “I don’t like Jack,” he said.
“It’s Jack or nothing, take your pick.”
He grimaced and downed the rest, then held out his glass for a refill. “He looks worse.”
She simply looked at him.
“His name is Perry. Perry Crawford.”
She poured liquid into his glass, and then took a sip of her own. “Who is he?”
“Loretta’s boyfriend.” He tossed the ice packs on the floor.
“Your fiancée’s boyfriend? What the hell?”
His laugh held no humor. “Her boyfriend and”—he took a drink—“the father of her baby.”
Oh, God. “The baby isn’t yours?”
“Nope. And she knew it from the first. She got together with me to stick it to him, among other reasons.”
Their first meeting convinced Mia that Loretta was a bitch, but this... Not just a bitch, but a stone-cold bitch. “How did you find out? Did she tell you?”
“Are you kidding? He told me. Good old Perry. I thought he was lying, so I punched him. We had a fight.” Wyatt shrugged. “Until Loretta threw herself between us and told me to get out. She backed up his story.”
“Oh, Wyatt. I’m so sorry.” She refilled both their glasses. “Are you sure the baby is his?”
“Positive. She’s a lot farther along than I thought. She was already pregnant when we first slept together, not long after we started dating.” He took another drink. “She showed me proof. A paternity test, a doctor’s report and the ultrasound. Oh, yeah, I’m sure.”
Mia’s mouth hung open. “She played you from the beginning? How could she do that?”
“Easily, apparently. She wanted her baby daddy to marry her and he wouldn’t. He figured they’d go on just like they were, but she wanted the ring on her finger. So she broke up with him and hooked up with me, hoping he’d get jealous and marry her. If that didn’t work, she had a patsy who would. Me.” He tossed back more of his drink. “I can’t believe I was so stupid. So clueless. Looking back, there were so many things that should have clued me in. Hell, once she told me she was pregnant and showed me the test, she didn’t want me near her. Unless I asked her something she didn’t want to talk about. That should have set off alarms, but I figured she had morning sickness that came and went.”
“You weren’t stupid. You’re just a good guy.”
“Good and stupid.”
She put her hand on his arm and squeezed it sympathetically. She couldn’t stand seeing him so hurt. She wanted to kiss away the pain in his eyes. But he didn’t want that from her. He needed a friend, so she’d be that friend.
“Did you love her?” She’d never been sure that he did. Everything had happened so fast. Wyatt went from dating Loretta, to engaged with a baby on the way, in a matter of weeks.
“No.” He shoved a hand through his already disheveled hair. “Hell, I hardly knew her. I had no idea she’d been hooking up with someone else just before we got together. So when she told me she was pregnant, I believed the baby was mine. Accidents happen.” He shrugged. “My kid, my responsibility.”
“You didn’t have to ask her to marry you.”
“Yes, I did. Kids need a father. I’m not going to let my kid grow up without me in his life.”
“Still, not all men would have asked her. They’d have figured something else out. Like child support, shared custody, whatever.”
“Yeah, well, color me stupid.”
“Stop saying that.” She put her arms around him and hugged him. “You’re not the first man who had a woman play him, you know.”
Wyatt turned his head. Their lips were inches apart. She looked into his eyes, his beautiful eyes, as clear and blue as a mountain lake.
She kissed him. She only meant to comfort, but the kiss changed in an instant. Comfort to heat, gentle to passionate. He cupped her face and deepened the kiss, his lips and tongue wreaking havoc with her senses. His mouth continued its sensual assault a
s his hands slipped beneath her shirt, caressed her breasts, rolled her nipples between his fingers. Her head fell back and she groaned as his lips cruised across her jawline, down to the pulse beating madly at the base of her neck.
She could stop him. She should stop him. But she didn’t. Instead she lifted her arms so he could strip her shirt off over her head and toss it aside.
He kissed his way down her chest to her nipple. He took it in his mouth, gently sucking and licking, before moving to the other breast and repeating what he’d done.
He pulled back, replaced his mouth with his hands, caressing her nipples, still wet from his mouth. Looking into her eyes, he said, “Stop me now, Mia.”
When he said her name the last of her defenses crumbled. “I don’t want you to stop.”
He stood, drawing her up to stand with him. His hands cupped her beneath her butt. “Put your legs around me,” he said.
She did as he said, then kissed him, pressing against him as close as she could get. This is a mistake. It’s rebound sex for him. But for you it’s so much more...
He carried her into her bedroom, placed her on her bed, stripping off her pajama pants and panties swiftly.
His gaze hot, intense, he stood looking at her. “I don’t have a condom.”
“I do,” she said, glad she hadn’t thrown them out along with her ex-boyfriend. “There,” she said, motioning to the bedside table drawer.
Opening the drawer, he pulled some out and tossed them on the tabletop. He stripped quickly, came down beside her quickly, as if fearing she’d change her mind. But when he took her in his arms he asked, “Still yes?”
She traced her hand down his chest, to his stomach, lower. Taking him in her hand, she caressed him and said, “Yes.”
He cupped her, slid a finger inside her, his thumb playing with her, shooting her high, then higher. Pushing her to the edge of orgasm. He groaned and reached for a condom. She watched as he put it on, then she opened her legs to welcome him. He drove inside her, stilled, looked into her eyes before he pulled out slowly and slid back in. Again and again, he drove her higher with each thrust until she tightened around him and screamed as she came. He gave a guttural groan and sank into her one last time.