A Very Badd Christmas (The Badd Brothers #19)

6. Hayden

CHAPTER 6

hayden

M om was standing outside the main ballroom or whatever it was called, dressed to the nines in a black, sequined, floor-length gown that hugged her trim figure. She wore black ballet flats on her feet, and her hair was done up off of her neck. Her diamond earrings and necklace—a gift from Dad for her 65th birthday—shone at her ears and neck.

I swept up beside her, startling her. "Hey, Mom, sorry to keep you waiting."

She put her hand to her throat. "Hayden, you scared me!" She stepped back and assessed me. "Why, you look so handsome, Hayden! Is that a new suit?"

I grinned sheepishly. "It's borrowed. I did forget to pack formalwear."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Borrowed? From whom?"

Oh boy. Here we go.

"Um…I made a friend when I was out, and her brothers are the same size as me."

Her eyebrows went the other direction, now, shooting up toward her hairline. " Her brothers? Who is she?" She peeked behind me. "Is she here?"

I chuckled. "No, Mom, she's not here." When Mom looked positively disappointed, I side-hugged her to myself. "But, they did invite us back. I forgot my clothes there, so I have to go back anyway, and they want me to bring you."

"They? Your new friend and her brothers?" She looked up at me with such hope that my stomach flipped.

"Something like that." I let go, took a half step away, and offered her my arm. "Shall we, my lady?"

"Why, yes, my good sir, we shall." Her eyes shone with her usual effusive spirit for the first time in months.

I knew her sorrow was still there and always would be, but for now, she was happy and having fun, and that was enough.

We danced, sipped champagne, and chatted with the captain and his first mate for a few minutes, ate a spectacular five-course meal and then danced some more.

By the time the evening was wearing down, Mom was visibly flagging.

“You about ready to call it, Mom?" I asked her.

She smiled, tired but happy. "I think I am. It's been so much fun I don't want to stop, but the days when I could dance all night long are far behind me, I'm afraid."

“You? Dance all night?" I said, laughing.

She frowned up at me. "Why yes, Hayden, me . I used to cut quite a rug back in my younger days. Your father and I went dancing every weekend for years before you were born." Her eyebrows went up. "What, you think we sat around playing Scrabble and watching Jeopardy before you came along?”

I shrugged. “Yeah, sort of."

A sarcastic laugh. "Oh, son. You have no idea. Children don't tend to see their parents as people until they're much older."

"I think I'm starting to understand what you mean," I said as we exited the ballroom and headed for the elevator.

I walked her to her door—we'd changed the single berth to adjoining rooms.

Wait for it…

Wait for it…

She fidgeted with the sequins at her stomach, not looking at me. "I promised myself I wouldn't pry or push, but…"

I just laughed. "Her name is Emerson Day. She’s a goalie for the University of Washington women’s soccer team, which just won the national title. She’s been unofficially adopted by a family that owns a few bars around here, but I don’t know too much about it. She’s beautiful and funny and way out of my league, but she seems to like me, I guess. Don’t get too excited, though—she’s going back to school, and we're going back to Indiana."

Mom sighed. "A mother can hope, right? Just let me dream, my sweet boy." She patted my cheek and then lifted on her toes to kiss my cheek. "Love you, Hayden. Thank you for a wonderful evening."

I kissed her forehead. "Love you, Mom. And thank you for letting me come with you on this cruise. I've had way more fun than I thought I would."

"Does a certain young lady factor into that at all, I wonder?" She smirked at me, humor glinting in her eyes.

I decided to go for honesty. "You know, it actually does. She's really cool, incredibly beautiful, and very funny. I don't see how it can go anywhere, though."

The humor in her eyes transitioned to motherly wisdom. "Hayden, my advice to you is to keep an open mind. Life is a funny old thing, and you never know what will happen. I know I've been a bit of a harpy about you getting married and all that, but I just want you to be happy."

"I'm not gonna lie and say it doesn't drive me a little bananas sometimes, but I know it comes from a place of love. I just…." I shrugged. "I really like Emerson. Her family is crazy, so just be forewarned. They're the most welcoming bunch I've ever met, but they're…a lot. I just…I don’t know what can happen. I'm not into a vacation hookup. I want a real relationship. After Darcy, though, I'm just a little gun-shy, I suppose."

Mom's expression darkened. "That girl didn't deserve a single minute of your time and attention, Hayden. She never cared about you, only what she could get out of you."

I sighed and shook my head. "I know it, now. You and Dad tried to tell me, but I…" I rolled my eyes, hissing in disgust. "I saw what I wanted to see—a hot girl who wanted me."

Mom cupped my jaw. "The right woman is out there, Hayden. She's waiting for you. She's living her life and dreaming of you, too. So just keep an open mind when you spend time with this Emerson girl. And your eyes."

I leaned down and kissed the top of her head. "I'll do my best. Night, Mom."

"Night, son."

I let myself into my room and took off the suit, hung it on the hangar, and set it out with a request for housekeeping to have it dry-cleaned. I was too amped up to sleep, so I set up shop with my laptop in the bed and got some work done.

I was starting to fade after a few hours, so I closed the laptop and flicked on the TV, mindlessly scrolling through the channels to find something boring to put me to sleep. I settled on a nature documentary.

Thirty minutes in, my phone dinged. Confused as to who would be texting me—at all, let alone at 1:30 am—I grabbed it and slipped my glasses on.

UNKNOWN: Please don't be creeped out, but this is Emerson. We never exchanged numbers. My cousin Jax is good with computers and found your phone number for me. I just wanted to see if you wanted to make plans for tomorrow.

ME: You're a creep, you're a weirdo, what the hell are you doing here…

I saved her number and waited for her to text back. The gray dots danced, and then her message came through in a gray bubble.

EMERSON: Good one, Thom Yorke. Seriously, I hope you're not weirded out.

ME: No, not at all. Now, if you start referencing my credit score and my bank account number…

EMERSON: Oh, he has the skills. Xavier Badd is my uncle, after all.

My brain exploded.

ME: Wait, what? That Xavier Badd is your uncle? The guy I met earlier is THE Xavier Badd?

EMERSON: I mean, how many people in the world do you think there are with that name?

ME: I suppose that's obvious but still mind-blowing. For someone in the tech field, Xavier Badd is, like, a god.

EMERSON: I'm literally LOLing rn. He and Aunt Low will be there tomorrow, too. Assuming you and your mom still want to come hang out with us crazies.

ME: Of course we do.

ME: So, real talk. Does it ever get weird that Harlow Grace is your aunt? Or is it old hat?

EMERSON: I mean, both. She's very down to earth, very real. I was just a little kid when I first met her, so in a sense, she's just always been Aunt Low to me, not really HARLOW GRACE, A-List movie star. But then, she's arranged private screenings of her movies for the whole family before they hit theaters. We got to see an unreleased director's cut of By Dawn’s Early Light.

ME: No shit? That's crazy. I loved that movie. Mom, Dad, and I saw it in the theaters. Dad was a history nut and said it was amazingly accurate.

EMERSON: I suppose you should be prepared, though. Canary, the band, is my Uncle Canaan and Aunt Aerie. Eva Badd, Uncle Bax's wife, is a pretty famous artist. Myles and Lexie North are family, too.

ME: Thanks for the heads-up. Mom'll probably freak out a little when she meets Harlow. Or should that be Miss Grace?

EMERSON: If you call her Miss Grace, she'll just look at you like you have two heads. And then hug you and tell you to call her Low like everyone else does.

ME: I might just not tell Mom about any of the famous people until we get there. Might be safest.

I hesitated and then went for broke.

ME: Also, you should probably know that my mother is…well, she's been obsessed with me meeting someone, so she may get a little…forward, shall we say.

I deleted the message, rubbing my forehead. I didn't want to presume that Emerson felt the way I did. Or put pressure on her or make things weird.

EMERSON: Wanna know a pet peeve of mine?

ME: Yes.

EMERSON: When someone starts texting and the bubbles jump around for a long time like they're texting something long, and then…nothing. It drives me nuts. My curiosity goes haywire.

ME: Meaning, what did I type and erase?

EMERSON: Yes.

ME: I erased it because I didn't want to make anything weird.

EMERSON: It'll be weird if you don't tell me. I can be very persistent.

ME: It was just about my mom. When I told her I'd made a friend and the whole thing about borrowing a suit, she started seeing hearts everywhere, if you know what I mean. She's been on my case for years about meeting someone, so she sees things in everything.

EMERSON: That's adorable. She loves you and wants you to be happy.

ME: She does. But she can be very persistent as well. And she may be a little forward when she meets you.

EMERSON: What would have been weird?

ME: I'm not sure. Maybe I was overthinking things.

EMERSON: Maybe. Maybe not. We did have…a moment.

ME: I didn't mention the moment. But when I used the pronoun "she" about my new friend who helped me procure a suit…

EMERSON: I get it. My family gave me shit, too. Probably for similar reasons.

Seconds later, another gray bubble popped up, and the contents made my breath come short.

EMERSON: I can’t stop thinking about our moment.

ME: Same.

EMERSON: I've never brought anyone to the house before.

ME: No? No one? Ever?

EMERSON: Nope. I didn't date much in high school. I was too focused on soccer. I still am, TBH. HBU?

ME: Um, well…similar, but also different. I didn't date much (meaning, at all) in high school, but that was more of an involuntary thing, lol. Pretty sure if you looked up INCEL during my high school years, you’d have found a pic of me.

EMERSON: I find that hard to believe.

ME: Thanks, but for real. I was in the computer club, the chess club, the D&D club, and ran sound for the drama department. The cool kid I was not. Big glasses, terrible taste in clothes, braces until I was a junior, and hadn't discovered weightlifting yet, so weighed about a hundred pounds soaking wet and fully clothed.

EMERSON: So when was the glow up?

ME: Yesterday, when I put on the suit and you looked at me like you did.

EMERSON: You're making me blush.

ME: You want the real story?

EMERSON: Duh. Of course.

ME: Freshman year at Purdue. Homecoming. There was a girl in several of my classes that I had a crush on. Sienna Daughtry. I spent a month and a half working up the courage to ask her out. She told me, and I quote: "I may be a nerd, but I don't date nerds. Get some contacts and lift weights. Maybe someone will actually want you.”

EMERSON: She said that? To your face? Out loud?

ME: Yup.

EMERSON: What a colossal cunt.

ME: Um.

EMERSON: I can use that word. You can’t. Just so we're clear.

ME: I would never.

EMERSON: So let me guess…you got contacts and lifted weights?

ME: I did. I went to an expensive salon and got a fancy haircut, got contacts, and joined a gym. Hired a personal trainer and told him to denerdify me. Spent a year killing myself in the gym, put on muscle, and gained confidence.

EMERSON: And Sienna?

ME: Funny thing is gaining confidence made me realize I didn't have a crush on her, I just thought she was hot.

EMERSON: An important distinction, to be sure. So, then. Did your hard work pay off?

ME: Lol, yes. I dated another girl from my physics class for a few months. I'm probably embarrassing myself by admitting this, but she was my first girlfriend. As a sophomore in college.

EMERSON: Not embarrassing at all. But in the interest of quid pro quo, I'll tell you something embarrassing. I've never had a boyfriend.

ME: Never?

EMERSON: I don't date. I've been hyper focused on soccer and my degree. That's not to say I don't talk to guys, but I just don't get into relationships.

ME: Think you ever will?

EMERSON: Yeah, I will. When I meet the right person at the right time.

EMERSON: Was she your only serious relationship?

ME: No. I dated a girl named Darcy for a year and a half. This was after college.

EMERSON: Why'd it end? You don't have to tell me. You can tell me I’m being nosy.

ME: It's fine. It's hard to admit because I feel like an idiot, but she was never with me for me. I'd just started at the company I work for now. I was making good money, really good. I’d just bought my car and a condo. Met Darcy at the gym, and we hit it off. Things progressed. I had money, a lot of it, and for the first time in my life, a beautiful girl to spend it on.

EMERSON: Oh boy. I think I see where this is going.

ME: Probably, yeah. I took her on expensive dates. Bought her jewelry. I even paid off her car loan for her birthday. I did it because I wanted to. I liked doing it. But then for Christmas that year, I got her tickets to a show she'd been talking about. A band she loved. They were in Indianapolis just after Christmas so I got the tickets and a hotel room.

EMERSON: That's a great gift.

ME: I mean, I thought so.

EMERSON: But she didn't I take it?

ME: Not exactly. She was like, Indianapolis? What about somewhere cool? Like LA, or New York, or Paris. Also, a concert is not an appropriate Christmas gift for our first Christmas together.

EMERSON: How ungrateful. What did she want?

ME: Bling. Bigger earrings. A tennis bracelet. That kind of shit. I tried to see past it, but I just couldn't. So I ran an experiment.

EMERSON: Do tell.

ME: I stopped the extravagant gifts and fancy dates to high-end see and be seen restaurants and just sort of dated her. Normal stuff. Not, like, Applebee’s, but not the caliber she was used to. Just to see what she'd do.

EMERSON: Hey now, don't knock Applebee’s. I go there all the time. Mozzarella sticks are my cheat day special.

EMERSON: So what did she do?

ME: Cheated on me, dumped me, and told me a man is only as good as his dick and his wallet, and she was only with me for my wallet.

EMERSON: No.

ME: Yes.

EMERSON: She didn't say that.

ME: She absolutely did.

EMERSON: That is fucking WILD. What a shallow, horrible, cunty piece of shit.

ME: It made me question my taste in women. Like, if the two women I’ve dated have turned out to be absolutely horrible, then what does that say about me?

EMERSON: Have you dated anyone since?

ME: Nope.

EMERSON: I promise I'm not a vain, shallow, greedy cunt.

ME: Please stop using that word. LOL it makes me VERY uncomfortable.

EMERSON: I do not use that word lightly, Hayden. And those two women deserve it for the way they treated you. That's not okay.

ME: Thanks. It didn't feel great. Also, I know you're not like that.

EMERSON: I mean, I hope that comes across.

ME: Loud and clear, Emerson. Truly.

ME: Especially about money. I came from…well, nothing very good. Delia's family took me in and provided for me. Gave me a home. A family. They'd have paid for my college if I let them—I got scholarships and grants because I wasn't going to allow that, not after all they've done. The Badds have done very, very well for themselves, but they worked their asses off for all of it, and I have never taken them for granted. To me, that girl saying a man is only as good as his dick and his wallet is just disgusting and unforgivable.

ME: If I'm being honest, it made me insecure for a long time. About money, and about my…self. She didn't say anything outright negative about my body, but the implication was clear.

EMERSON: Again, not okay. That's not something a man can change. And it shouldn't matter. It DOESN’T matter.

EMERSON: I'm gonna be straight with you, Hayden, and you may not respect me as much after this, but the truth is that when I say I don't date, I mean I just hook up. I’m not talking a different guy every night or anything. I guess my point is that I've been with a variety of different kinds of men, and not once have I ever been like, that dick isn't good enough for me. There IS good sex and not good sex, but for me, that's NEVER been about size.

EMERSON: Who made it weird now?

EMERSON: I'm freaking out. I shouldn't have said any of that.

ME: Why would I respect you less, Emerson? That would make me as shallow and shitty as Sienna and Darcy.

EMERSON: You're different than anyone I've talked to before. IDK why. I guess I just…I want you to like who I am. It's scary being this honest, and if you want the 100% truth, I'm not sure why I'm saying any of it.

ME: I do like who you are. You handled my social anxiety freak out and didn't make me feel stupid for it. You're so far out of my league it's not even funny, and yet here you are being vulnerable with me. It means a lot.

EMERSON: Out of your league? That's the dumbest thing I ever heard. You're smart, successful, stupid hot, funny, and you love your mama. Who's out of whose league?

ME: Maybe we just agree there are no leagues?

EMERSON: I like the sound of that. Just two people…

EMERSON: Who like each other?

ME: I know I do.

EMERSON: Are we crazy? I go back to Seattle, and you go back to Indiana.

ME: I said that to mom. She told me to just keep an open mind because life is a funny old thing and you never know what will happen.

EMERSON: I like her already.

ME: I think she's amazing, but I'm biased. I mean, she's a little nuts, but who isn't?

EMERSON: I mean, you met my family. Well, some of them.

EMERSON: How was the dance?

ME: Great. Mom had a great time, and so did I. I can't thank you enough.

EMERSON: You already have. It wasn't a big deal.

ME: It was to me, and even more so to Mom. So, thank you.

EMERSON: You're welcome.

EMERSON: So, if you and your mom are up for it, Uncle Brock can pick you guys up tomorrow around five.

ME: We’ll be there. Should we bring anything? Dress code?

EMERSON: Dress code? Don't make me laugh. It's a family get together. Just show up. Please don't bring anything except yourselves.

ME: Ok. Showing up empty handed goes against Mom's religion, so I make no promises on her behalf.

EMERSON: I'm excited to see you again.

ME: Same. I really want to see more of you.

After I sent it, I realized how it may have sounded and my finger hovered over the unsend button. I left it, though. It felt risky, more forward than I was typically comfortable with.

But then, maybe it was time to take risks. Maybe it would be safe to take risks with her. It certainly felt like it.

Didn't mean I wasn't squirming with anxiety, though.

EMERSON: You want to see more of me?

ME: Yes. A LOT more.

I gulped, feeling my heart pound and my palms sweat.

A very long pause ensued, during which I thought about typing a million different take-backs and excuses and stopped myself.

A photo popped up in the thread.

Emerson, bathed in a dim light. Laying down in bed, lush red hair splayed out on the pillow around her face. She was topless, with one arm barred across her breasts, hiding her nipples with her forearm, the rest of her lush, pale, soft breasts spilling above and below her forearm.

My mouth went dry and my cock turned hard as a rock.

ME: Holy shit, Emerson.

EMERSON: call me Em.

EMERSON: And for the record, I'd like to see more of you, too.

ME: Not much of a selfie taker, but…

I was already in bed in just my boxer briefs, so, before I could talk myself out of it, I held the phone at arm’s length and snapped a shot of me. I flexed my abs, propping one knee up, the other leg stretched out.

What the fuck am I doing?

It wasn't until after I sent it to her, heart pounding a mile a minute, that I realized one minor issue. The…um…evidence of my reaction to her hot-as-fuck selfie was on full display. No zoom needed.

Mortification blazed through me, along with a massive and bitter dose of insecurity.

EMERSON: Hayden…

ME: Emerson?

EMERSON: You played fast and loose with the truth, hotshot.

ME: How so?

EMERSON: You said Darcy alluded to you lacking in the packing department.

ME: She did.

EMERSON: Is she blind? Asking for a friend.

ME: No…

EMERSON: You're sexy AF, Hayden. I'm sweating over here.

ME: Your own fault.

EMERSON: How so?

ME: The pic you sent. That's what you do to me.

EMERSON: I've never done this before. Sent pix to a guy.

ME: Me neither. To girls, obv.

ME: You're beautiful, Em. Words aren't my strong suit. But you're literally the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

EMERSON: You're doing pretty well from where I'm sitting. Also, you ain't so bad yourself.

EMERSON: That was lame. Let me try again.

EMERSON: I've never been attracted to a guy the way I am to you. On all levels.

ME: Had to one up me, didn't you?

EMERSON: I'm a competitive athlete. Sorry not sorry.

EMERSON: This convo has my heart racing.

ME: My heart is pounding. It has been. I didn’t realize how visible… things…were when I sent that. I almost had a heart attack.

ME: Mainly because when I said that what Darcy said left me insecure for a while, I meant I still am.

EMERSON: You absolutely should not be. At fucking all.

ME: Not sure how to react to that, but…thanks?

EMERSON: I could text you all night. But we probably shouldn't.

ME: Probably not.

ME: I want to see you. I want to take you out.

EMERSON: I'd like that. A lot.

ME: We probably can’t go on a date now, huh?

EMERSON: Lol no prob not. But I'll see you tomorrow.

ME: I guess that'll have to do.

ME: At least I have your picture. brB, spending the rest of the night staring at it. And wishing I had the real thing here with me.

EMERSON: Thought you weren't good with words.

ME: So did I. I'm just being honest. I don't want to presume or be too forward.

EMERSON: It's not. I like honesty. Good or bad, always be honest.

ME: I will be. And same.

EMERSON: The truth is, right now, I'm flustered and turned on. But things start early around here, so I should go.

ME: I don't want to keep you up.

EMESON: Funny, I DO want to keep you UP.

ME: Not helping. Because you do.

EMERSON: Pics or it didn't happen.

Nervous, hands shaking, I took another selfie, this time intentionally putting the evidence of my arousal center frame.

I sent it.

Instead of a text, she sent another shot of herself.

This time, she had the sheet pulled up to just barely cover her nipples, showing a healthy expanse of pale pink-brown areolae, and she had her leg pulled up out of the sheet so it pooled between her thighs, covering her core, revealing the fullness of her thick, smooth, powerful thigh.

ME: How far are we taking this, Em?

EMERSON: No idea.

ME: How about I give you my hot take.

EMERSON: Please do.

ME: As much as I want this to keep going, as much as part of me selfishly wants to see all of you, I also really want to see you in person. I want to, I don't know, save it, I guess? Does that make sense?

EMERSON: It makes SO much sense and matches what I was thinking.

ME: So, as much as I don't want to, how about we say goodnight?

EMERSON: I agree. Good night, Hayden. See you tomorrow.

ME: Goodnight, Em. I'm glad Jax hacked my number for you.

EMERSON: Me too.

I hearted the message so there would be a response but left the conversation temporarily ended.

It took a very long time to fall asleep, and when I did, I dreamed of Emerson. In my dream, she was naked beneath a white sheet, and I couldn't quite make out her features, only getting teasing glimpses of her curves.

I woke up late, hard as a rock, aching.

I took a cold shower and forced my mind to think about work instead of Emerson's naked body.

I only partially succeeded.