Humbugged

by Pippa Grant

  My bakery is safe.

  It won’t be sabotaged again.

  But it’s hard to feel happy about it. Not after hearing why Steph did what she did.

  Also?

  At the moment, I’m not entirely certain running a bakery is still in my future. That’s a conversation I still need to have.

  A brave, serious conversation that could change the course of the rest of my life…

  Twenty-Six

  Clint

  My girl is so hardcore she headed into battle with nothing but a marble rolling pin.

  I dig it.

  I also dig that she stole my truck to come get me, and that she called in reinforcements in the form of a reindeer.

  How much more perfect can a woman be?

  After the sheriff’s done taking our statements and has escorted Steph back to his office, I lead Noelle out back. Olivia’s gone. So is Hope. All of them headed to the hospital to see Ryan, Cassie, and the baby.

  I make sure the bakery door is locked, then nod to my truck. “Do I get to drive us to the hospital, or should we jog over? Run up sweaty and show this baby how O’Dells roll?”

  I wiggle my brows, but she bites her lower lip and studies me with such serious dark eyes that I lean down to her level and cradle her cheeks. “Hey. You okay?”

  “I saw your orders,” she whispers.

  My heart stops. I thought she said something about me leaving downstairs, but in the heat of the moment it slipped past without making full impact.

  But now…

  I’m damn good at living in the present. Knowing she knows I have to leave though—that changes everything.

  “Noelle,” I whisper, feeling terrible that I wasn’t the one to break the news. “I’m sorry. I was going to—”

  “Do you love me?” she cuts in. “Really love me? Because if you do….”

  I know what she’s offering. The incredible gift hovering in the charged silence between us, just waiting for me to reach out and take it.

  We just got started. Just fell in love. Just took the first steps down this road, but no matter how new this is, I can’t imagine my life without her in it. Not for one minute.

  But I can’t ask her to make any more sacrifices for her country.

  She’s already been abandoned by her mother.

  Spent time with nannies as a kid while her dad served, and made her own way as an adult while her father remains committed to the Corps as his first priority.

  And now I’m on the verge of asking her to uproot herself all over again.

  No.

  Just no.

  “I love you more than cheesecake,” I say. “And sub sandwiches. And long runs. And wrestling my brothers. And making the people I love laugh.” I pull in a breath. “And more than the Marines.”

  A strangled noise escapes from the back of her throat. “Clint, I—”

  “I know we said this was temporary, Noelle, but I love you. You’re the last thing I think about before I fall asleep, and the first thing I think about when I wake up. I can live without coffee. I can live without sleep. I can live without ever being meme-ed again. But I cannot live without you.”

  She flings her arms around me. I lift her up, and she wraps her legs around me too. “I feel the same way,” she says, “but I was afraid I was imagining it all again, and—”

  “Shh, never. I fucking adore you. To the north pole and back.” I hug her tighter. “I still have two more years on my contract, but after that I’ll get out of the Marines.”

  “What?” She pulls back. “No. Clint. Being a Marine is part of who you are.”

  I gaze down into her face. “I can’t ask you to spend another fourteen years with a Marine, roaming all over the world until I get my twenty years in. You’ve already served your time as a family member. And you belong here. You fit. Let me do this for you. I can get a job with the sheriff’s office. Serve my country a different way. If you’ll just wait for me, just two years and a few months.”

  “Clint.”

  “And I’ll come back to see you as often as I can,” I say. “And you—”

  “And I can go with you,” she says, a stubborn gleam in her eyes. “To Korea. And wherever comes next.”

  “But would you be happy?” I ask

  “Would you?” she challenges. “Leaving a job that means so much to you?”

  My chest hitches at the idea of leaving the Corps behind forever.

  But it’s nothing compared to the gut-wrenching terror trembling in my stomach at the idea of not having Noelle in my life. “You make me happy. And you mean more.”

  “HONK!”

  Noelle cries out in surprise and scrambles higher in my arms as Nutquacker charges down the alley at us.

  “What the hell?” I bark at the goose.

  “See! One excellent reason to leave Happy Cat.” She’s practically on my shoulders now, and the goose is still bee-lining straight for us, honking and flapping. “No crazy goose with my name on his hit list.”

  “Nutquacker. Stay.”

  “Tell him you’ll stay in the Marines,” she demands. “That’s probably why he’s upset. He wants you to get me out of town.”

  “He doesn’t want me to—ow! Fuck, goose, I need my balls!”

  “Tell him!” she shouts. “Promise Nutquacker you’ll keep your job and take me with you!”

  The damn animal’s trying to demonstrate where he got his name, and the family jewels are in legit danger.

  I’m a Marine.

  Getting beat up by a goose.

  A goose with really excellent aim, and did I mention the part where I have an unarmed civilian on my shoulders that I need to keep out of harm’s way?

  “Fine! I’ll stay in the Marines!”

  The damn goose stops, lifts his neck and eyes me, sniffs—swear, he does—then shakes his head and toddles away like he wasn’t going for the grand prize two seconds ago.

  Noelle’s laughter echoes off the buildings around us. She has one leg hooked over my shoulder, the other wrapped around my upper back, her shoe tucked under my armpit, and both arms wrapped around my neck. “So there we go. Decision made. You can’t go back on a goose promise.”

  “Goose promise, my ass,” I mutter.

  “More like your balls,” she says with a giggle.

  It takes some serious focus and twisting, but I manage to get her disentangled from my body. I drop my tailgate and set her down, then slide next to her, our thighs touching as my arm goes around her. “I mean it though, Cupcake. We can finish out these last two years together and when they’re over, we can both come home for good. It would be an honor to spend my life making you happy.”

  “But would you be happy?” she repeats.

  Like my happiness matters to her above all else.

  My eyes get hot, and I realize it’s been a long time since someone has asked me that question, and cared, really cared, to hear the answer.

  “Yes.” I nod to her. “With you, I would be.”

  “Then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” she says quietly. “But in the meantime, I guess Steph is going to get her chance at running a flower shop, after all.”

  A lump swells in my throat. “No, Noelle, you don’t—”

  She cuts me off with a finger to my lips. “It’s fine. I’ve been in training for this my entire life, Clint. I can bake cupcakes anywhere. And I can go back to taking pictures too. You’re right, I was shutting out life when I quit. I was pushing away something that makes me whole because I wasn’t getting the approval I wanted from other people. But I don’t need their approval. I just need to do what I’m called to do, and part of that is capturing beautiful moments on film.”

  I start to speak, but she shakes her head again.

  “And I can do all that while supporting your calling. Your very noble, very brave calling, for as long as it feels like the work you need to do What kind of a partner would I be if I asked you to change something so ingrained in your soul to make me
happy?”

  “What kind of partner am I if I ask you to keep moving?”

  She shakes her head. “You’re not asking. I’m offering. I can go, Clint. And I don’t mind. So long as you promise this is home when we’re not off Marine-ing.”

  “Did you just say Marine-ing?”

  She arches a brow. “Got a problem with that, Mr. Meme?”

  I laugh, because I don’t have a problem with any of this. Except— “Are you sure?”

  “How about we take it one assignment at a time?”

  That’s a deal I can agree on. And screw the handshake.

  This one, we’re sealing with a kiss.

  A long, deep, perfect kiss in a cupcake-scented alleyway, with Christmas—and my love’s birthday—just days away.

  “Can we quit pretending you two aren’t a thing now?” Blake asks from somewhere over my shoulder.

  I make a mental note to kick his ass later and angle in for a deeper kiss, but Noelle’s already laughing and pulling back with a shy smile. “I think they’ve figured us out,” she whispers.

  “We’ve been rooting for you for months,” Hope calls from the end of the alley. “Thanks for finding Nutquacker. Again. Have you seen Don Juan? He was in the trailer one minute, and the next thing I knew, I was sitting at a stop sign with an empty back end.”

  “Your back end isn’t empty,” Blake assures her.

  I try to stifle a laugh, but it’s hard when I’m this happy. “It’ll be a Christmas miracle if you get through the holidays without your wife killing you.”

  “When you’ve been married as many times as we have, this is just foreplay,” he replies.

  And then we’re all laughing.

  We spend the rest of the morning looking for a reindeer that we finally all agree must have flown back to the North Pole.

  And then we go to meet Cassie and Ryan’s new little one at the hospital, head to the bakery to hang a “Closed for Vacation” sign, and hurry back to my place for mid-afternoon cocoa and nookie.

  Cocoa first. Then the nookie. Because I’ve learned firsthand that cocoa and bare skin don’t mix. Cocoa is hot.

  But not nearly as hot as my girl.

  My Noelle.

  My Christmas miracle who I’m going to be lucky enough to call mine all year round.

  Epilogue

  Noelle

  One year later…

  Happy Cat looks exactly like I remember it, except the last time I walked up to the Wild Hog, there were more animals involved. Feral cats. Rascally raccoons. An evil goose. A probably magical reindeer.

  Tonight, it’s just people.

  Including my very favorite person in the world.

  And my other favorite person in the world.

  Clint and my dad flank me as we cross the wood floor to the bar. Jace is working, and Clover’s sitting by the cash register, “helping him” roll silverware with chubby toddler fingers and an endless stream of chatter, while Olivia and Hope whisper together by the jukebox. Blake holds Logan aloft near a string of Christmas lights the one-year-old seems to find fascinating, while Ryan and Cassie smooch under the mistletoe.

  Mr. and Mrs. O’Dell are crooning karaoke songs in the back room.

  And all of the Happy Cat senior citizens are marching through the bar, handing out kinky gingerbread cookies.

  “The prodigal son returns!” someone cries.

  “You mean the meme son,” Greta corrects, and everyone laughs.

  “How about the birthday girl?” Clint says, shouting to be heard above the cheers. “She’s the real star here.”

  “Oh, I am not,” I say, my face going hot as Clint leads the crowd in a spontaneous—and horribly off-key—round of “Happy Birthday.”

  And as it usually does, her daddy’s singing makes Baby kick, and I get a roundhouse in the ribs hard enough to make me wince.

  “Okay, Cupcake?” Clint asks, moving closer and rubbing his hand over my belly.

  “Definitely your kid,” I reply with a teasing grin. “She’s already taking names in there.”

  My dad clears his throat and gives Clint the quit touching my daughter in public, especially in front of me look, but we both know he’s happy for us.

  He’s still rooting for a traditional wedding, since our first wedding was a courthouse affair so that Clint could have me added to his orders. But my dad understands the workings of the military, naturally.

  “Noelle! Who is this delectable hunk of a man?” Phoebe demands as she slides up next to my dad. “Gingerbread, dear?”

  Dad’s ears go pink. “Um, thank you.”

  “Clint, lift Noelle up so we can get a picture. Actually, we need about a thousand pictures. We’re running out of good meme material.”

  “Stop with the memes, Phoebe,” Jace yells. “His head was so big before he boarded the plane home, he almost couldn’t fit through the door.”

  “Well, he did save all those people in that disco that caught fire,” Greta pipes up.

  “That didn’t actually happen,” Blake interjects.

  “Oh my gosh, your belly!” Hope rushes me, her own belly high and plump. Neither of us is due for two more months, but we’re ushering in a new era of O’Dell grandchildren like it’s going out of style. Cassie thinks Olivia’s hiding her second pregnancy right now too, letting Hope and me have the limelight.

  We hug, and I start to tear up again.

  Since Clint and I left Happy Cat in March, so much has changed, but so much has stayed the same too.

  And my friendships here have only gotten stronger.

  It’s the InstaChat page.

  I’m addicted. It’s not the same as being here, obviously, but it keeps me up to date with all the news. And the local jokes. And the comings and goings of the Happy Cat hometown crew.

  Via InstaChat, I’ve watched Steph’s flower shop get off the ground, laughed my ass off at Olivia’s monthly live stream of the Sunshine Sex Toys lube tastings, and cheered along as Tucker finally popped the question to Emma June.

  Spoiler alert—she said yes.

  I’ve also witnessed more private moments too. Clover’s birthday pictures, videos of Logan’s first laugh, and a hundred smiling images of my new family enjoying each other at barbeques and family dinners and poker nights.

  And tonight, Clint and I get to be in the pictures too.

  We pose for the old folks—Clint lifting me into the air with one arm, despite the fact that I’ve already gained thirty pounds—before making our rounds of the room, getting snapshots with our friends and family. I’ve been back behind the camera for a year now, and it feels so good, so right.

  But I let Cassie take shots with me in them too. I want evidence of this Christmas to show my daughter, shots of my last Christmas before I met her.

  God, I can’t wait. To finally see her face, to hold her, to introduce her to her daddy, who is going to be the best daddy in the world. No doubt in my mind.

  He’s already the best husband. And the best friend.

  And the best lover.

  “The very best,” I sigh later as we’re catching our breath after re-christening the cabin’s queen bed, which has been covered in a tarp to keep out the dust since the last time we were here.

  “For real,” Clint says, running a lazy hand up and down my thigh. “We just keep getting better at sex, woman. We’re awesome.”

  I laugh as I prop up on one arm on my side. “I like how highly you think of us.”

  “Well, we’re the best,” he says, grinning. “I have excellent taste in women. And I make incredible children.”

  I cock my head. “Oh, yeah? You got a secret baby out there I don’t know about, big guy?”

  “Nope, just know this one is going to be incredible.” He rests his hand on my belly again, wonder and gratitude mixing in his expression. “I’m so glad we’re going to be here when she’s born.”

  “You aren’t secretly bummed to go back to recruiting?” I ask. “I mean, I know you’re happy to be home
, but your work life was a lot more exciting over there. It’s okay to admit it.”

  “All I admit is that I’m flattered to be asked to return to recruiting the best and brightest Georgia has to offer.” He sniffs. “Though I’m not really surprised signing rates dropped so much after I left. I mean….what did they expect?”

  I grin as I lean in to kiss his cheek. “They were fools to think you could be so easily replaced. You want popcorn? I’m going to make some.”

  “Yes, but you stay here, I’ll go make it.” He swings out of bed, but hesitates at the door and turns back to me with a curious look. “Your dad was cool with staying at my parents’ house, right?”

  I sit up in bed, drawing the covers around my chest. “Yeah, why?”

  “I swore I heard something outside,” he murmurs, lifting a hand my way. “Stay here.”

  But of course, I don’t. I pull on my robe, slide my swollen feet into my slippers, and hurry after him, catching him just as he pulls back the curtains at the window, revealing a sight that makes my breath catch.

  “Is that…” I trail off, fingers hovering above my lips as Clint tucks me against him.

  “Don Juan,” he finishes in a hushed voice. “And yeah, I think it is. And friends.”

  Quite a few friends. I count seven other reindeer before a flash of red light in the woods behind the house causes their horned heads to swivel that direction. A moment later, they all burst into motion, racing across the cold ground toward the crimson pulse.

  All except one, who turns his head our way, bellows out a cheerful reindeer groan of congratulations, and rises up onto his hind legs to paw the air in celebration before galloping off to join his friends.

  A beat later, the silhouette of a goose—wings spread and neck stretched long—chases after him, and the sound of Nutquacker honking “Jingle Bells” filters faintly through the closed window.

  “That goose,” I mutter. “Always biting off more than he can chew.”

  Clint chuckles. “And getting out of his pen. I’ll text Hope in the morning to let her know he’s loose.”