The Christmas Tree

by Allyson Charles

  “Oh, I agree.” She leaned in, making sure to give Colt a little peek down her dress. Dinner was definitely back on track. But that didn’t mean that she couldn’t have a little fun with the man. “That is a fascinating conversation topic. So what do you think is going on between your dad and Janice? A little fling or a hot and heavy romance?”

  Colt’s hand abruptly left her leg. “What are you talking about? They’re just friends.”

  “Come on. They were holding hands beneath the table when we had lunch with them the other day. How can you not see that something is going on between them?”

  He frowned. “Dad is at the office a lot. I always thought it was because he didn’t trust me to run the business properly.”

  Sadie’s heart clenched at his words. She hated that he had such a strained relationship with his dad. As an adult, she had come to realize that her dad’s affair had had nothing to do with her, and they had managed to salvage a good relationship. She hoped Colt and his father could get to the same place. “Your father wouldn’t have given you the business if he didn’t trust you. And would it be a bad thing if your dad found something with Janice? I know it’s hard when your father has a relationship with someone other than your mother, but from what I understand, your mom’s been gone for a while. Everyone deserves to have love in their life.”

  “It will be weird, seeing them together as a couple.” He popped a red potato in his mouth and chewed. “But I guess I’m okay with it.” His lips twisted wryly. “Not that Dad would care whether I’m okay with it or not. He does what he likes.”

  “I don’t think you and your father understand each other very well. He obviously cares what you think; otherwise he would have been holding Janice’s hand out in the open for you to see. And I don’t think your dad understands how much he hurts you when he talks about the business and what a difference it would have made if Caleb were alive to run it.”

  He tapped his fork against the plate. “How can he not know he’s insulting me? The profits I’ve made these past years are nothing to him. And my brother had many fine qualities, but running a business wasn’t one of them. Caleb couldn’t balance a budget to save his life. He was a hero, no doubt. But that’s all my father remembers. And I’m tired of knowing I’ll always be his second choice.”

  “Have you told your father this? I’m sure if he knew how he makes you feel—”

  “Princess, I love that you’re trying to help. But my dad and I aren’t going to have some Dr. Phil moment here. Not gonna happen. So I’ll just suck it up and it will be fine.” He leaned forward and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her neck, his thumb sweeping up and down her sensitive skin. “Now, if you get to declare no talking about business at dinner, I think it’s only fair I get to say no talking about my dad while we eat. Deal?”

  The heat from each one of Colt’s fingers pierced her skin. She didn’t want to talk anyway. She wanted to climb in his lap, lose herself in his touch. “Deal,” she whispered. Her eyes slid shut and she let out a little moan when his fingers threaded into her hair and massaged the back of her head.

  “I love the sounds that come out of your mouth,” he said, his voice a husky rumble. She opened her eyes and stared into his, scorched by his gaze. Stripped bare. There had been other first times with other men, but none that had felt like this. Like there was no going back from this point. Like something inside her was going to fundamentally change.

  Her heart skittered in her chest. She still didn’t know if that was something she wanted, if she wished for her orderly life to get thrown topsy-turvy. But her wants no longer mattered. She was at the top of the hill on a roller coaster, right before she plunged over the edge. There was no escaping the fall. All she could hope for was to enjoy the ride and to have her heart be in one piece when she finally climbed off.

  “We still haven’t eaten dessert.” Her voice came out breathy, sensuous. When she was with this man, she became sexy, a term she never would have applied to herself before.

  Colt stood, his hold on her dragging her to her feet. Only inches separated them. He leaned down and put his nose to her throat, inhaling deeply. “Princess, I have my dessert right here.” His lips brushed across hers, nipping lightly before settling in. His tongue tasted every inch of her mouth and Sadie’s body grew heavy with want. “So sweet,” Colt murmured.

  She took a half a step back, and tried to control her breathing. He watched her from under heavy lids, waited for her to make the next move. After tonight she wouldn’t be thinking that this could be just a fun fling. Something about this man was too solid, too permanent. She took his hand in hers and led him to the stairs.

  They only made it halfway up before he dragged her into his arms, as if he couldn’t wait even those last few steps. His mouth found hers, a whisper’s touch at first, soft, seeking. His broad hands spanned the width of her back, his fingers slowly clenching, fisting the soft cotton of her dress, dragging the fabric so taut against her hips and breasts she thought he’d rip the seams.

  “Bedroom,” she murmured when his mouth trailed to her neck. She let her head fall back, exposing as much flesh to his wanderings as possible.

  “Too far.” He slid his hands down, gripped her butt, pulled her flush to his hips. Yes, he was ready, the evidence of his need hard against her belly. Dragging up the skirt of her dress, inch by inch, he possessed her mouth, no longer tentative, but demanding.

  She was only too happy to acquiesce. Opening to him, she accepted his possession, reveled in the play of his tongue with hers, gasped when he drew hers into his mouth and nipped. Her body felt like it was made of wax, melting from his heat, from the heat within herself that blistered to the surface.

  When his hand slipped beneath the waistband of her panties, dug into her cheek, her mind almost shut down. Almost. She wanted him. Badly. An ache that needed satisfaction.

  But wooden stairs were hard. The part of her mind still devoted to rational thought examined the logistics, found them wanting. She had Colt McCoy in her home, under her hands, and she didn’t want their first time together ruined by a backache.

  Taking a backward step up, she threaded a hand into the hair at the back of his neck and pulled him up the stairs with her. She reached the top step, dredged up all her willpower when he tried to pull her back down into his firm body.

  “Bed,” she said, mustering all the authority in her voice that was possible. It wasn’t much, but Colt dropped his hands from her hips with a groan. She made it to the door to her bedroom before his hands reclaimed her, dragged her back against his chest.

  His lips found the slight hollow behind her ear, sent sparks racing through her body. “I’ve been dying to know what kind of underwear my princess wears beneath her conservative clothes. Something flimsy and lacy? Or something practical? You’d look good in both,” he said, his voice rough, his fingers sneaking down the collar of her dress to cup her over her bra.

  “You’re going to have to unwrap me to find out.” Was that her voice? It was more of a purr, a sexy sound that had never left her mouth before. Spinning, she took a slow step back, eyes locked with his, and tugged on one end of the bow on her dress belt.

  Eyelids at half-mast, he followed her step for step until the back of her knees hit the bed. Grabbing the belt before the knot fully released, he knocked her hands away. “This is my present to open. You can have yours later.”

  He peeled first one side of her dress open, then the other, exposing her in bra, panties, and thigh-high stockings. Her underwear was more practical than sexy, but it was pink and silky and from the heat in his eyes, she could tell Colt approved.

  “Okay, playtime’s over.” He yanked her dress from her shoulders, chucked it behind him and pressed her down until the cotton quilt met her back. Still he moved slowly, tracing the outline of first her bra, then her panties with the tip of his finger.

  Then he started all over with his tongue.

  He reached that spot
below her navel, the one that made her squirm, and laved the sensitive skin. She couldn’t take the torture any longer. Hooking an ankle behind his thigh, she pushed on his shoulders and rolled, taking him to his back and sitting astride his waist.

  “My turn.” She didn’t take her time the way he had. She couldn’t. She tore at his sweater and the shirt underneath, pulling them over his head in one go. And what a present lay underneath. His chest was broad, firm under her fingertips, and she smiled when his muscles twitched at her touch. A soft matting of dark hair stretched across it, a narrow column arrowing down to disappear beneath the waistband of his pants.

  And she unwrapped that present next.

  Clothes flew across the room, landing on the floor and covering the small desk under the window. Until finally, finally, they were both naked.

  Colt snaked his arm out to grab his pants lying on the floor next to the bed. He removed a condom from his wallet, tossed it onto the bed next to her. Turning back to her, he pressed a kiss to her collarbone, the tenderness of the action squeezing at her heart. The awe in his eyes, the way he gently cupped her bare breast, reverently stroking the skin with his thumb, made her feel she was precious. To him. It was the rarest of feelings, one she wished she could bottle up, preserve for a night she might need it, one when Colt was no longer in her bed.

  Pushing away thoughts of Ann Arbor, she laid her palm against his cheek. She liked it smooth, but had to admit she missed his scruff. But he’d shaved it off for her, and that small act of thoughtfulness meant the world. He turned his head and pressed his lips into her palm, and she was lost.

  He sheathed himself and settled between her thighs. Clasping her hands, he brought them up to rest beside her head, and drove deep. As with the rest of it, he took his time, wouldn’t rush it even when she lifted her hips to his, begging him for more. The slow build drove her mad. She needed him to end her torment. She wanted it to last forever.

  His touch was like an electrical charge to her skin, his calloused hands a rough tickle against her softness. His scent enveloped her, overwhelming her senses, making her head spin. He held her gaze with each thrust until Sadie had to close her eyes against his intensity, desperate to keep just a little bit of her soul hidden, her only protection against a complete surrender to her feelings for this man.

  But Colt wouldn’t let her hide. Reclaiming her mouth, he stripped away her pretense, drove away her doubt. When he brought her to the brink, then over, the loneliness that threaded through her life was swept away.

  Colt’s breathing eventually slowed and she lay half on his chest, his heart thumping a comforting beat under her cheek. Resting his large hand on her butt, he squeezed idly. “Do you really believe everyone deserves love?” His voice was a low whisper in the dark.

  “Yes. At least, I hope we all do.”

  His sigh lifted Sadie with his chest. Kissing her forehead, he tucked her in around him, dragging the covers up around their bodies.

  She was almost asleep when he whispered, “I hope you’re right, too.”

  Chapter Twelve

  A clattering of plates jerked her from her dreams. Rolling toward the bedside table, she looked at the alarm clock, squinting to make out the red numbers through sleepy eyes. Six fifteen. Colt was a morning person. She sighed.

  After a quick shower, she followed her nose to the kitchen. He stood in front of the stove, barefoot, wearing his trousers from last night and a plain white tee. The cotton stretched tautly across his broad back when he flipped something over in a frying pan. She didn’t know whether the drool that gathered in her mouth was from his muscled physique or from the tantalizing aromas coming from her stove.

  “Pancakes?” Sadie walked to his side and stared appreciatively at the sizzling rounds of batter. If last night hadn’t been spectacular enough, Colt’s making her breakfast was added proof that Christmas had come early. And she must have been a very good girl.

  “Morning, princess.” He leaned down for a soft kiss, pulling back when her lips turned up in a smile beneath his own. “What’s so funny?”

  “You’re scratching me again.” She ran a hand over a lightly stubbled cheek. “Why are you up so early? We don’t have to be at the tree until nine.”

  Colt slid the golden-brown pancakes onto a plate. “I have a lot to do this morning. I want to run by my office and then I have an errand.” He pressed her into a seat at the kitchen table and sat next to her, his knee nudging her thigh. “I’m hoping you can run interference for me today if Jerome asks where I am. Hopefully I won’t be too long.”

  “Of course. We really don’t have that much left to do before Thursday night. But where are you going?” She drizzled syrup on her pancakes and put a fluffy bite in her mouth.

  “It’s a surprise.” He popped his own bite of breakfast in his mouth and smiled at her while he chewed.

  “A surprise? For me?” She tapped her fingers on the table at his nod. “And when will I know what this surprise is?”

  Colt shrugged. “Hopefully within a week.”

  “Hmm.” She stared at him through narrowed eyes. “Well, I have a surprise for you, too. Something I bought in Ann Arbor.”

  Colt’s spine snapped straight. “Lingerie?”

  “No!” She shook her head. “God, you are such a guy.”

  “Guilty.” He dragged a bite of pancake through a puddle of syrup. “So, when do I get to see my surprise? You won’t make me wait until you get yours, will you?”

  “I thought about it, but that’s not really getting into the Christmas spirit. You’ll get your surprise at the tree today.”

  “I can’t wait.” He glanced at his watch and shoveled in the last bites of breakfast. “I’d better get going.” Crossing to the sink, he started to rinse his dish.

  “Just leave it. I’ll clean up after you leave.” She wrinkled her nose. “I still have to clean up our dinner. We left the table in a hurry last night.”

  Colt wiped his hands on a dish towel. “That’s all done. I took care of it before I started breakfast.”

  “You did?” She stood up and brought her plate to the sink. “You didn’t have to. Besides, don’t guys usually only do the grand gestures before they get the girl into bed? I was already a done deal.”

  He threaded his hands in her hair. “You’re supposed to say ‘Thank you, Colt. That was so sweet of you.’”

  She raised her face to his, stepped into his warmth. He smelled of her shower gel, crisp and fruity. She hadn’t heard him take a shower that morning, would have liked to have seen him faced with all of her girly products. He probably wasn’t a fan, but she liked that he would carry her scent with him all day. However temporarily, she had marked him. “Thank you, Colt. That was so sweet of you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Leaning down, he gave her a maple-flavored kiss. He straightened up and his eyes crinkled at the edges. “Besides, that grand gesture was to help me get seconds.” With a quick swat on her butt and a second lingering kiss at the front door, Colt was off.

  She puttered around the house, making another list of remodeling ideas, until it was time for her to leave. She stopped at Starbucks on her way and bought her usual coffee. Finding a quiet corner table, she decided it was late enough to make the phone call she had been putting off.

  “Good morning, Sadie. How are you doing today?” David Carelli’s voice slid over her like grease, making her want to take another shower.

  “I’m good. Thanks.” She traced a circle on the table with the bottom of her paper cup. “I wanted to call you as soon as I made a decision. I want to thank you for your offer, but I’ve decided not to sell.”

  “I see.” He paused. “Are you just not selling to me or have you decided to move to Pineville?”

  “Neither.” She swept her bangs across her forehead. “I’ve decided to fix up the house myself and then sell it, hopefully to a family who will love it like my grandmother did.”

  “I see,” he said again, his voice flat. “Well, I wis
h you the best of luck. Call me if you change your mind.” He hung up before Sadie could say goodbye.

  She took her coffee and walked to the town square. Even through the scaffolding that surrounded the tree, Sadie could see that their job was nearly finished. There was still too much uncovered green, but the tree didn’t look empty. She sipped her coffee and came to a sudden halt. At the base of the scaffolding, stacks of boxes and bags littered the cement, ornaments overflowing from their containers. Overnight, the people of Pineville had come through in a big way. With the amount of ornaments they had donated, there wasn’t a chance that this tree would look under-decorated.

  When Colt arrived, freshly shaved and in a clean pair of cargo pants, her back ached from all the bags she had bent over to dig through. Standing up straight, she rubbed the sore muscles, smiled. “Hi.”

  He dropped a quick kiss on her upturned mouth and Sadie’s heart squeezed at how natural the action felt, as if they had already spent a lifetime greeting each other in just that manner. “How’s it going here?” he asked.

  She spread her hands out. “As you can see, we have a lot of ornaments to hang.”

  Colt groaned.

  “Stop complaining, buddy. The people of Pineville took the time to donate their ornaments and we have two days to hang them.” She bent and picked up a lacquered slice of wood about three inches in diameter. “Besides, some of these are really special. This bag is full of these ornaments made from cut-up tree branches that someone painted to look like stained glass. They’re beautiful, and one of your neighbors made them.”

  “Huh.” Colt poked at the bit of wood dangling from her finger. “That’s not bad.”

  “And in this bag, someone laminated a whole bunch of old postcards and strung them with ribbon.” Sadie handed him a postcard with a vintage Santa Claus on its front. He flipped it over.

  “This is a used postcard. Someone wrote a message on it.” He squinted at the writing. “From 1944.”