Humbugged

by Pippa Grant

  Using more willpower than I’ve ever needed to get through any Marine obstacle course, I drag my lips from hers. “Can I take you somewhere?”

  “Anywhere,” she replies without hesitation. “Anywhere you want.”

  And that easy, simple trust in me almost breaks me.

  I don’t know how I’m going to leave her behind come February, but I know I’m going to make the most of the time I have left with her.

  Every single second.

  Twenty-Two

  Noelle

  I don’t care where Clint takes me.

  I just like being with him. Anywhere.

  Holding his hand as he steers us through Happy Cat, listening to the low rumble of his voice sharing O’Dell family legends while the town’s Christmas lights bathe us in soft, festive colors…

  It’s perfect. Magical.

  At a stop sign, I lean over and kiss his cheek. “Thank you for sharing your family celebration with me. Tonight was…more than I ever could’ve hoped for.”

  He squeezes my hand. “I wish I could turn back time and give you this every year.”

  “What? There’s something Clint O’Dell can’t do?” I tease.

  “Well, I could call a time lord I know…”

  I trace the strong curve of his jaw with my fingertips. “Nah, I don’t need my past changed. If anything, not having picture-perfect holidays every year makes me appreciate the good times even more. I don’t take nights like these for granted.”

  He frowns. “Sometimes I take them for granted.”

  “Do you?”

  “I’ve missed a few Christmases, so I know what it’s like to not be here. But I’ve also made sure I spend my time off while I’m deployed with my buddies. The family I chose. Some of them struggle during the holidays, some don’t have family, so it’s good to be together. Lift each other up. And I’m never more than a phone call away from my brothers and parents. That helps.”

  He turns down a driveway, and I start laughing, because I know exactly where we are.

  I arch a brow. “Are we going to sneak into your childhood bedroom and christen it?”

  “You wish, Cupcake. But no, something better. Outside. Is your coat warm enough?”

  My gloves are a little wet from playing in the snow, but curiosity wins out over concern for the near-freezing temperature. Besides, if we get cold, I’m sure we’ll find a creative way to warm up. “Yeah, I’m good,” I say.

  And I am. So good.

  Once we climb out of his truck and his hand is in mine, I’m even better.

  Instead of heading into the empty house, he guides me around the side, into a thinly wooded glen. We shared a moment by this house last summer, when I delivered cupcakes for a party for Blake and Hope, and George and his family cornered me.

  Clint, naturally, came to the rescue.

  Tonight, we’re the only people here. Everyone else is at the hospital with Ryan and Cassie, and I expect Clint will start getting text updates any minute. But for now, it’s just the two of us, winding our way through the woods and past a softly rolling stream on the first day of winter, with a half-moon to guide the way.

  Despite all of the weirdness happening at Second Chance, I’ve never felt so content. Even knowing that Clint and I have agreed to keep this relationship short-term, I can’t help the optimism blooming inside me.

  We don’t talk, but we don’t need to. Not while we’re holding hands and enjoying this perfect, peaceful evening.

  At the top of the first rise, Clint stops and turns to me. Backlit by the moonlight filling the clearing behind him, he’s…something else.

  Like the Greek God of Boulder Tossing, come down to bless one lucky girl with a kiss.

  And I have a feeling it’s going to be me.

  “Is this where the Christmas sprites hide?” I ask with a smile.

  He shakes his head. “It’s where I got struck by lightning the first time.”

  My eyes go wide. “The first time? Oh my god, Clint. You got struck by lightning again?”

  He gazes down at me, as serious as I’ve ever seen him, and tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear. “Yeah, I did.”

  “When?”

  “When I met you.”

  If there was any danger of catching a chill, it evaporates in the warm glow swelling in my chest. “So that’s what that was,” I whisper.

  “You felt it too.”

  I did. Of course I did. How could I not? Clint is a force of nature, just like lightning. The only crazy thing is that he feels the same way about a relatively ordinary person like me.

  But maybe it’s not crazy. Maybe this kind of lightning only strikes in pairs. And maybe love makes everything extraordinary.

  “I did,” I confirm, before confessing, “It scared me.”

  “Are you still scared?”

  I stare up into his handsome face, determined to tell him the truth. Because I know how much it matters to him, and because of how much he matters to me. “In some ways, yes. But mostly…”

  “Mostly?” he prompts, a tightness in his voice that makes it clear this moment matters as much to him as it does to me.

  “Mostly I’m just crazy about you,” I say. “You’re the best person I’ve ever met.”

  “Ditto, Cupcake,” he whispers before bending to capture my lips.

  And like I’ve done so many times before, I climb into his waiting arms. But this time, I’m not running away from anything.

  This time, I’m running to something.

  To him.

  To love.

  Maybe I’m a fool to believe that this is love, and that we can make it work when I’ve failed at it so many times before, but I can’t help myself. Every fiber of my being sings that Clint is the one I’ve been waiting for. I trust him with my life.

  And my heart.

  And so I take the leap, giving in to the bone-deep need to love him with everything in me. I wrap my legs around his trim waist while his big hands knead my ass. I run my hands over his short hair, down his neck, over those broad shoulders, memorizing the feel of him, stroking him the way I’ve learned that he loves, seeking out new secret spots on his body that will make him moan.

  “Noelle,” he says against my lips, kissing me with the words. “I want you. So much. I need to be inside you.”

  “Yes,” I breathe. “Here. Now.”

  He shrugs out of his coat, one arm at a time, kissing me as he tosses the soft material on the ground and guides me down to lie on top. “Too cold?”

  “You’re too hot for me to be cold.” I tug at his shirt until I can get my hands on the hard abs that I traced with my tongue two days ago.

  “Can’t get enough of you,” he murmurs as he unzips my coat.

  A breeze rustles through the pine needles, but I don’t feel it.

  I only feel Clint.

  His warm skin. His firm touch. The heat of his mouth as he pushes my sweater up and sucks my nipple through my bra.

  His fingers sneak low under my waistband, making me gasp. I arch into his touch, begging, “More, yes, please,” as the pad of his thumb brushes my clit. “I want all of you.”

  “Fuck, Noelle. I want you so much. I can’t take my time tonight.”

  I reach for the snap on his jeans. “Taking time is stupid. You. In me. Now.”

  “I love it when you go cavewoman on me, Cupcake,” he rumbles as we both fumble out of our pants. Clint’s hands are shaking as he tugs a condom from his pocket and rips it open.

  “Are you cold?” I whisper.

  “No, just desperate, Cupcake. Desperate for you.”

  “Me too.” I push him onto his back, helping to slip the condom over his thick, heavy length. And then I straddle him and take him deep inside me.

  My eyes roll back at the sheer pleasure of feeling him filling every empty, aching inch, and he moans. “God, Cupcake—you feel so amazing. You always feel so amazing.”

  I lift and slide back down, and I’m not steady or smooth either. I�
��m shaken. By this. By him. By how much I want to get closer to him. How much I want to make him happy. To take care of him. To make him feel so good he can’t remember what pain or sadness or suffering feels like.

  Most of all, I want him to know that he’s loved, and it’s so much easier to show him with my body than it is to say those scary words.

  He props up on one elbow as I ride him, cupping my head with one big hand, drawing my face to his until we’re kissing again as he thrusts into me and I rock into his hard length.

  I’ve never been so connected to another person, and it’s not just physical.

  It’s in the way I can feel the longing in him to make this last—not just the moment, but us.

  I want to make it last too, but I can already tell this is a battle I’m going to lose. That wonderful, perfect coil of pleasure is building so hard and heavy in my core, I’m starting to see stars every time I close my eyes.

  As if he can sense how close I am, Clint pulls back, holding my gaze, “Noelle, baby, God, I—”

  “Yes, me too,” I gasp as my orgasm rocks through me.

  He cries out, his cock pulsing against my inner walls as they clench around him.

  I squeeze my eyes shut tight and bury my head in his shoulder as wave after wave of bliss pulses through me.

  Never has a night been so perfect. Full of joy and laughter and love.

  Rescued pets and found family.

  New life.

  Happiness.

  Clint’s made me feel safer, more treasured, than I have in my entire life. Now it’s up to me to show him I know how to return the favor. This man is so much more than a set of boxes to be checked. He’s a force of nature—irresistible, undeniable, and worth whatever sacrifices it takes to make sure lightning keeps striking between us.

  “My place for more?” he finally asks, kissing my temple.

  “Yes,” I say, shivering. “Now that the coming is over, I think my ass is freezing off.”

  He pulls a mock-horrified expression. “Then we better get the hell out of here. Your ass is one of my favorite parts of you. In addition to your lips and your breasts and your cute as hell little belly button.”

  “I’m pretty into your knuckles,” I confess. “And your forearms.”

  He grins. “Yeah, I could tell. Caught you drooling once or twice. Piggyback to the truck?”

  I shake my head. “Nope. I’m going to jog. This guy I know wants to bang so often, I figure I should try to get in better shape.”

  “That’s a great idea.” He kisses me again. “And a lucky guy. Thank you for this. It was…the best.”

  “It was,” I whisper. “Let’s go home.”

  “Home,” he echoes and it sounds right.

  So perfectly right.

  Twenty-Three

  Clint

  A text wakes me at the ass crack of dawn the next morning.

  It’s a picture of a red-faced newborn wrapped tight in a Christmas blanket with the words It’s a boy underneath, and it makes me smile so hard my face hurts.

  Noelle stirs beside me, making me smile even harder.

  She snuggles under the covers, her breath smoothing until it’s coming slow and deep.

  Good.

  Between all the stress at the bakery, and waking me up two hours ago for another round of “Lets Get Naked,” she needs her sleep.

  But I’m awake, and once the sun is up, so am I. So I slip out of bed, grab a pair of running shorts and a long sleeve tee, and head to the living room to lace up my shoes.

  The entire time, I can’t stop smiling.

  There’s a gorgeous, adorable woman who’s crazy about me in my bed. My brother and his wife just had a baby. Christmas is in two days.

  Life is damned close to perfect.

  Everything except for that letter with new orders…

  I shake my head—that’s a worry for another day—and scribble Noelle a quick note letting her know that I didn’t want to disturb her and will be back soon. If she wants to run again later, I’m up for that, but I confess I’d rather get my exercise with her between the sheets.

  It's a brisk morning, perfect for giving my legs and lungs a workout. But I’m barely a quarter-mile down the road, letting my mind wander over everything that’s been so perfect about the last couple weeks, when thoughts of the bakery’s troubles intrude.

  Even when half the town was up in arms about the sex toy factory opening up in Happy Cat, most people were still kind to those who chose to work there. And folks have been stepping up for Noelle too.

  But they shouldn’t have to.

  Her problems are completely man-made, caused by one bad apple who’s doing his best to make my girl feel unwelcome.

  And it’s bothering the hell out of me that I can’t solve this problem for her.

  I don’t want to leave town without knowing Noelle’s life is running as smoothly as possible. I don’t want to leave town at all but…

  “Another day,” I mutter, cutting left at the end of the long road leading onto Jace’s property. I’ll worry about leaving later. Right now, I have more pressing problems.

  Following my gut, I head into town to run past the bakery.

  I’m thinking about getting down into the basement, about what I might find if I take a closer look where the police haven’t, so far. But when I turn the corner and the bakery comes into view, I realize I’m not the only one who thought poking around inside Second Chance Cupcakes would be a good way to spend their morning.

  The sight of movement behind the windows gets my blood pumping in a way that a jog never could.

  So this shit stain thinks he can get away with making more trouble two days before Christmas, does he?

  Over my reindeer-flattened body…

  Hugging the building, I circle around to the back. The door’s locked, but that’s hardly an obstacle. I’m good with locks, and I know the code for the alarm. Thanks to a couple of slender nails on the ground by the trashcans, it’s not long before I’m carefully turning the knob—and plotting how to replace all of Noelle’s locks, because that was easier than it should have been. Even for me.

  Bending low, I inch the door open.

  There’s a figure standing at the stove in the dim light. Stirring something in a pan. “Merry almost Christmas, Daddy,” a feminine voice says. “Won’t be long now and we’ll be together all the time.”

  “Stephanie?” I say before I can think.

  Steph Wilson turns, her eyes going wide as she shrieks in surprise.

  A beat later an arc of steaming liquid—and a big copper pan—come flying my way. I dive for cover, avoiding getting clobbered by the pan, but catching more than a few drops of hot, sticky, chocolate-scented liquid.

  I roll and leap back to my feet in time to see Stephanie disappear into—what the hell? The utility closet?

  There’s hot chocolate all over the floor, but I dash across it anyway, slipping and sliding my way through the kitchen to the closet. I wrench the door open, finding that it’s not just a closet.

  It’s the entryway to the basement Noelle mentioned.

  I race down the rickety stairs, following the bobbing light of a flashlight.

  Steph Wilson.

  Did not see that one coming.

  “Wait,” I order. “Stop right there, Stephanie.”

  Her flashlight pauses—I have a wicked effective order-voice, if I do say so myself—but only momentarily. I pull my phone out and flip on the flashlight just as I crash into a shelf of vases and send them flying.

  Shit.

  I’m usually smoother than this.

  But I also usually have blueprints and game plans and backup plans and contingency plans for the backup plans. Here, I’m going in blind to a hoarder’s paradise.

  Steph’s flashlight wavers in the corner.

  I lift my own beam and stifle an unmanly cry of surprise.

  Because there’s a man standing between me and the woman in the corner.

  A shaggy-h
aired guy with a blue shirt, nodding solemnly to me.

  I crouch, reach to attack, and—

  He’s gone.

  Legit gone.

  Poof. Bye-bye. Nowhere to be seen, leaving the hairs on my arms standing on end.

  “Are you alone?” I ask.

  Steph rises slowly from where she’s crouched behind a reindeer float. I see the hole in the wall behind her, the one she must have covered with the framed poster in her other hand, and everything clicks.

  At least the part where I know how she’s been getting in here. Maybe not the part about the man-sized footprints in the flour, but anyone can wear larger shoes. Or she could have a boyfriend or friend helping her.

  “You saw him?” she whispers.

  “Saw who?”

  “My dad.”

  Twenty-Four

  Noelle

  There’s nothing like waking up in rumpled sheets next to a warm body that smells like excellent sex.

  This morning, however, I’m missing the warm body part. But that’s okay. It’s just after dawn, Clint’s preferred time for a morning jog. He’ll be back soon.

  And then I’ll help him shower before inviting him to hang out with me at the bakery today, since he’s officially off-duty for the holidays.

  I hum to myself as I pull my tired, but oh-so-happy, body out of bed and head for the small kitchen in the cabin. Coffee sounds heavenly. And I have enough time to whip up some muffins before work. Healthy muffins, with Clint’s special protein flour. And then I’ll make some cookies for—

  The baby!

  I squeal as I dart back to my phone, hoping for an update, though I’m not sure I qualify to be among the people getting updates. Cassie’s a relatively new friend, and after last night, I’m sure the whole family assumes Clint will tell me when the baby arrives.

  But when I grab my phone, there are seventeen messages waiting for me.

  I’m in a group chat!

  With Cassie, Hope, and Olivia.

  Tears spring to my eyes as I scroll up to the start of the text, a picture of the most adorably red-faced, teeny-tiny baby all decked out for the holidays and wrapped up so well that only his face from his chin to his eyebrows is visible. He’s sleeping, or at least closing his eyes against the flash of the camera.