A Very Badd Christmas (The Badd Brothers #19)

10. Hayden

CHAPTER 10

hayden

W hen she was gone, I slumped, panting. It had taken every last shred of willpower I possessed to keep my hands to myself, to let her escape the room, to not rip her clothes off and make love to her on the floor of Duncan's room.

I tasted her on my lips, savoring the essence of her.

God, she came so beautifully, so freely. I'd felt her holding back, and I knew she'd partially succeeded; I was determined to break through whatever barrier she had up, physically and emotionally.

Standing naked in that room, I knew one thing to be true: I was falling for Emerson Day.

Hard.

It wasn't just the physical, either. I mean, sure, when she sank to her knees and put her mouth on me, the thought that went through my head, which I'd bitten my tongue to keep from saying, was, "Holy fuck, I think I love you." I wasn’t about to utter those words in such a flippant manner. But it was also true. I was falling in love with her.

With her spirit, her attitude, her honesty, her love for her family. I was falling in love with the way she made me feel— her physical touch communicated a whole world of emotions. She liked me. She appreciated me. She was attracted to me. She made me feel strong, sexy, and confident. She made me feel wanted. The way she'd hauled me in here like she couldn't wait another second to get me alone? It rocked me to my core.

I located my clothes, folded in a neat stack on a sea chest at the foot of the bed. I dressed quickly, forcing my thoughts away from Emerson. I focused on statistics, lines of code, and batches of analytics. I listed all the presidents in order from Washington to the present day. State capitals. Recited pi to fourteen digits.

By the time I had my clothes on, my hard-on was gone. I popped into Duncan's en suite bathroom and washed my hands and face, scrubbed my hands through my hair, and fussed with it for a second.

I was delaying.

Scared of the reactions waiting for me out there.

My mother was out there.

I scraped my hands down my face, groaning. I had no idea what I’d say. To anyone.

Sorry for messing around with your daughter in your son's room?

Summoning my courage, I left the bedroom and headed for the kitchen. The volume rose considerably with every step until it was nearly deafening as I entered the kitchen.

A cheer rose as I entered, stopping me in my tracks. Everyone was focused on me.

"Um?" I looked around, baffled. "Hi…everyone?"

Emerson was sandwiched between Duncan and Xavier. She was blushing, hiding behind a big glass of red wine, her eyes on mine gleaming with secrets and amusement and embarrassment.

Baxter swaggered toward me, shoving a glass of amber liquid into my hands, along with a giant cigar. "You survived the Christmas Dunking, Hayden. How do you feel?"

I'd been half worried the whole thing was about Emerson and I vanishing together for…I wasn't even sure how long. "It was…invigorating."

A tall Badd cousin with blond hair, brown eyes, and a broad-shouldered build laughed. "I bet it was invigorating." Jax? I wanted to say he was Jax, Zane's and Mara's oldest.

"If my room smells funny, we're gonna have words, my friend," Duncan said.

Emerson slapped his chest. "Duncan, I swear, if you don't shut the fuck up right now, I'm gonna kick your ass."

Mom paused in the middle of sipping what was probably the same glass of wine. Her eyes went to mine. Mama Livvie leaned close and whispered something to her; Mom bit her lip to keep from laughing and took a sip, hiding a smile behind the glass.

My gaze roamed the room, landing, hesitantly, on Bast. He was looking at me, too, his expression neutral. I felt like I had a sign on my chest announcing what Emerson and I had just done. I didn't regret it, didn't feel guilty, more just…I wasn't sure. It was a complicated feeling.

Bast pushed off the couch he'd been leaning against. "Yo!" he shouted, catching everyone's attention. "A toast." he held up his glass, which contained an inch of whiskey. "To our family and to new friends. Hayden and Kaye, it's been fuckin' amazing getting to know the two of you. I'd like to thank you for being here with us today and extend an open invitation whenever you find yourself in this neck of the woods. Merry Christmas, everyone!"

Everyone lifted their glasses, clinking with those nearest them, and then took a drink.

"On that note, I think the food is done. Ya'll know the drill—Ladies first, starting with Kaye." Bast put a huge hand on Mom's back and nudged her toward the stove and the giant stockpot full of stew.

The women formed a line behind her, Mama Livvie, and then the other aunts, and then the cousins, each one being served by Dru, who was helped by a young woman around Emerson's age. She had light brown skin, curly black hair, and bright blue eyes. I wanted to say her name was Anya or Arya or something, but I wasn’t sure.

Despite the number of people, the line moved fast. In addition to the stew, there was salad, fresh bread, and enough of everything for everyone to have seconds, even thirds.

Baxter gave me a playful shove toward the stove as the last of the youngest girl cousins went through the line. "You're gonna get some shit," he murmured. "Hope you know that."

I took a sip of the whiskey, coughing as it burned going down. I had the cigar in the same hand, unsure what to do with it or how I was going to juggle the glass, the cigar, and the food. "Um. Yeah. I…yeah."

He laughed and smacked me on the back—it felt like being whacked by a cinder block. "She warned you, huh?"

"Um, something like that."

"Bast is gonna fuck with you. You gotta push back." He grinned at me. "I gotta say, it does take some serious cajones to disappear with the host’s daughter."

I coughed, choking on another burning sip. "I…"

Baxter guffawed. "Aw man, you're like a deer in the headlights, kid. Bast is gonna eat you alive if you don't figure out something to say."

"Like what?"

"I don't fuckin' know. But stammering and apologizing ain't it, man." He clapped a hand on my shoulder and squeezed, grinding the bones together. "Look, buddy. He ain't mad. Sunni is a big girl. She don’t do nothin' she don't want to. Bast knows that. We all do. We're an open family. No secrets. Nothing is off the table. We're all a bunch of loud, vulgar, inappropriate motherfuckers, women included. All of us have snuck away and gotten frisky at a party at one point or another."

"Yeah, but not, as you pointed out, with the host's daughter."

He laughed. "True, true. But if you own it and keep cool about it, it'll all be good. Just don't show any fear."

“Easy for you to say. You guys are all scary as hell.” I reached the stove. "Hi, Mrs. Badd."

She frowned at me, eyebrows bunching together. "Who the hell is Mrs. Badd?" She arched an eyebrow. "Because I know you're not talking to me."

I grinned. "Sorry, Dru."

She winked at me. "Better." She scooped several ladlefuls of stew into a waiting bowl and handed it to me but didn't let go right away, leaning close to whisper. "You've put a smile on Emerson's face, Hayden. Whatever you're doing, keep it up. I approve, and so does my husband, although he's gonna make you work for it."

"I'm beginning to really care about your daughter, ma'am. She's amazing. And she's made it very clear that you guys are largely responsible for that."

She sniffed, eyes smearing with unshed tears. "She would say that, wouldn’t she? All we did was give her the love she deserves."

"Yeah, that's the special part."

She kissed my cheek, whispering again. "Don't let the boys bully you about taking some time with her, okay? They'll try. Whatever happened or didn't happen is no one's business but yours and Emerson's. That's the line you need to hold, okay? Hold that line, and you'll earn their respect."

I let out a huge sigh. "That I can do. Thank you, Dru." Louder, then: "This looks amazing. I can't wait to dig in."

"Hey, new guy! Move the line!" This came from a few places back—a cousin I hadn't been introduced to.

A girl behind him smacked the back of his head. "Don't be a dick, Merrick. You'll get your food. Can't you see the man is talking to Aunt Dru?"

I held up the hand with the glass in it in their direction. "Sorry!"

The girl winked at me. "You're good. My brother is just an impatient buttplug."

The guy, Merrick, turned and glared at her. "If I'm a buttplug, then you're a dildo someone found on the side of the highway."

Baxter, behind me, shouted without looking at them. "Ella, Merrick, shut the fuck up before I shut you the fuck up. Merrick—don't be an impatient buttplug. Ella, don't call your brother names."

Both of them snapped their mouths shut. I spluttered a half-stopped laugh. "Sorry, I'm not—I shouldn't laugh."

Baxter grabbed four slices of bread from the bowl and shoved one in his mouth. "It's cool, man. I'm funny and you know it."

Zane, who had been in line behind Baxter, came up between us. "And so humble, too." He glanced at me and jerked his head toward the back deck. "Come on. We’re sitting outside."

I turned to look over my shoulder, finding Emerson—she was perched on the back of the couch, her legs around Delia's shoulders. She glanced my way at the same time, shooting me a brilliant smile, and then winked and blew me a kiss before returning her attention to the conversation happening around her.

Zane and Baxter both eyed me.

"I didn't know she knew how to wink," Bax muttered. "What world are we living in?"

Zane shook his head. "You're an idiot. Who doesn’t know how to wink?”

Baxter stared at his brother. "Who's the idiot? It was a fuckin' joke, you bag of fuckballs. I just meant I've never seen that girl act this way in the fifteen years I've known her. Jesus. Dense much?"

The two huge men escorted me outside—cold air blew and snow swirled, but the space heaters and the fireplace-table held the worst of it at bay; once I took a seat on the couch by the table, I was comfortable. There was a massive ashtray full of ash and cigar butts as well as a few small whitish-brown butts that I suspected were joint roaches. I put my cigar in the ashtray and set my glass down as Bax took the seat on one side and Zane on the other. Bast swaggered out next, blowing out through his teeth to cool the bite of stew he'd shoved in, wedging himself on the couch on the far side of Zane.

Within a minute, Myles, Xavier, all three triplets, the giant named Ink, the twins Canaan and Corin, and Lucian were all wedged around the table, plates and bowls balanced on knees. There was only desultory conversation as everyone dug into the stew.

“This is the best stew I’ve ever had," I said, sipping the throat-burning, stomach-warming whiskey.

Bast nodded. "Sure as fuck is. Dru tinkers with the recipe all fall. It's never exactly the same from year to year, but it's always amazing. I think she put beer in it this year."

"I've never seen a stockpot that big before," I said.

He laughed. "We call it her witch's cauldron. She used something like, fuck, I don't know—five or six pounds of beef, at least, plus a metric fuckton of veggies and several gallons of beef stock. It's been simmering since this morning."

"Well, it's great. Mom and I are so thankful to be here. Seriously." I held his gaze, hoping he saw how genuinely I meant it. "It's been a rough couple months and this is…" I swallowed hard, eyes burning. "Shit. Um. You guys are the coolest people, and I feel very fortunate to have met you all."

The giant, Ink, nodded, gesturing at me with his glass. "Hear, hear. The Badds make hospitality into an art form. We're all better for how you guys have welcomed us in."

"Damn right," Myles said. "We're all misfits and fuckups and orphans, and ya'll bring us in and make us part of the family."

Bast hunched over his bowl, elbows on his knees, fork dangling. "Mom died, Dad died, and the eight of us boys didn't have anyone but each other. We took care of each other. And then Dru and Mara came along what seemed like at the same time and started taking care of us in ways we didn't know we needed."

Zane pointed at his brother with his fork, speaking around a mouthful. "Exactly." He chewed and swallowed. "I credit the women for bringing us cavemen out of the Stone Age and showing us how to be a family."

Lucian spoke for the first time—he was one of the eight brothers, a younger one, with loose shoulder-length brown hair laced with a few strands of gray at the temples, built lean and rangy. "Bast, you've been the patriarch of this family for twenty years. You gotta give yourself some credit."

Xavier cleared his throat. "I believe twenty years is an inaccurate number, Lucian. Bast took care of the seven of us after Mom died and Dad…" he trailed off, shrugging. “Bast has been the patriarch for probably closer to thirty years."

"Way to make me feel old as fuck, Xave." Bast laughed, grinning at his brother. "But thanks. I just…I was tryin' to do what felt right."

"You did,” Xavier answered. "And we are all better for it."

Bast seemed uncomfortable with this conversation. I felt him decide to turn the spotlight onto me, and sure enough, his gaze swung to me. "So, Hayden."

I set my now-empty stew bowl on the table and started on my salad. "Sir?"

"Sir," one of the triplets said—he had a bushy beard, and I thought his name was Ramsey. "Bast, this kid called you sir. Think he's scared?"

Bast stacked his empty bowl with mine. "You and Emerson were gone for a while," he said, eying me. "Couldn't find the clothes, huh?"

"I think if you have questions about that, you should talk to Emerson. Respectfully, sir, whatever did or did not happen is between Emerson and myself."

Bast leaned back, slinging a long, brawny arm along the back of the couch. "Good answer, kid." He grabbed a cigar from a wooden box on the table, a cutter and lighter from a bowl beside it, and clipped and lit the stogie. "Dru gives good advice, huh?"

He handed me the cutter and lighter. I'd never had a cigar before, but it seemed pretty straightforward. I got a piece of tobacco in my mouth, but my embarrassment faded when I noticed Bast plucking at his tongue as well.

I got mine puffing. "You don't inhale these, right?"

Bast laughed. "You can , but I wouldn't recommend it."

One of the triplets—Rome? He had shorter hair with heavy stubble on his jaw—pulled something from the inside pocket of the well-worn leather jacket he was wearing. It was a glass tube with a pre-rolled joint in it. He removed it, lit it, inhaled, and passed it to his left. “ This you inhale."

It came to me after a minute, and I took it, hesitating.

Xavier gave me an understanding smile. "It is legal here, Hayden. We all partake on holidays like this. If you are uncomfortable with it, however, merely pass it along. No one will judge you, regardless of whether you choose to join us or not."

I'd never tried it, despite having been offered a few times. For some reason, however, I felt safe with these people, so I took a small hit, immediately devolving into hacking. Bast chuckled and smacked my back. "There you go, kid. Popped your pot cherry, did we?"

"Yeah," I gasped, catching my breath, head already spinning.

"I gotta ask," Bast said, taking a hit of the joint, passing it, and then peering at the end of the cigar as if it held some hitherto unknown wisdom. "You and your mom are here on vacation. I assume you're going back to Indiana. So my question is, you and Sunni…what's the plan, there?"

I sighed and laughed, taking a puff of the cigar—it dried my mouth out, though, so I took a sip of whiskey. "Give me mind-altering substances and then ask," I said, "I see how it is."

He just shrugged, smirking. "It's a tool in the toolbox."

I tried to blow a smoke ring and managed a wobbly blob. "The honest answer is I don't know. We haven't…we aren't there. We met the other day."

"But you said it's not casual," he pressed. "I'm not pressuring you to label things, but I do want to know your intentions."

I set the cigar down, my stomach feeling a little queasy from the smoke. I accepted the joint again, coughing less this time. I felt floaty, loose. I considered Bast's question—What were my intentions?

"Sir, I think you need to ask your daughter that. But more to the point, you need to trust her. She's not a kid. She's a grown woman who knows what she wants. I say this with all possible respect, but my intentions don't really matter. Hers do. I like who she is. I enjoy spending time with her. I enjoy spending time with all of you. I can’t tell you what the future holds or whether she and I will be in a relationship or not. I don't know. I know I'm intrigued by her, fascinated by her, attracted to her. I know I will respect her wishes. I can work remotely, however, so if things were to progress in that direction, I can go anywhere. That said, my mom is alone now. That complicates things."

"This is a lot of pressure to put on the kid," Myles said. "They're just hanging out. Getting to know each other. None of us knew what the fuck was going on less than three days after meeting our women. Lay off the guy a little bit."

Bast stared at Myles. Blew a perfect smoke ring. Then looked at me. "They vanished together for fifteen minutes during a party. I think I'm entitled to put a little pressure on him. To make sure he's not playing games just to get in my daughter's pants."

"Brother, you aren't thinking clearly," Xavier said. "Even if that was his intent, do you really think he would admit to it except under extreme duress? Are you planning to waterboard our guest? You have to trust Emerson. You have to trust that she can see through him if he is, in fact, being duplicitous. I, for one, do not believe that to be the case. And I suspect you do not either. He strikes me as being honest and genuine. He has answered you truthfully and respectfully—with respect for you as well as Emerson. And, as Myles has said, put all of that aside. They've known each other for an amount of time which can be measured in hours. I think this entire conversation could be considered a little bit premature."

Bast hung his head, nodding. "You're right, Xave, Myles." He looked at me. "My bad. I'm sorry. I shouldn't push. It's not my place."

"Please don't apologize, sir. You do it out of love. I know it. She knows it. I knew this conversation was coming, and I may have been shitting my pants a little bit, but I think that's to be expected. She's a strong woman. I wouldn't be worthy of her if I couldn't handle this. And I can." I sipped whiskey, huffing through pursed lips as it scorched down my esophagus.

Bast regarded me steadily. And then he extended his glass to me. "Well said, son."

I clinked. "All I can do is be truthful."

"Amen to that," Myles said. "Now, enough deep shit. Gimme that joint and let’s get to the shit-talking."

The evening wore on, and there was no more interrogation. The men sort of monopolized my time, involving me in a round of pool, which I sucked at, and then got dragged to the sledding run, clothed in Duncan's snow gear, hurtling down the run with a scream trapped in my throat. I was tipsy, or perhaps more than that. Every time I turned around, someone was putting a drink in my hand. It was usually followed with a bottle of water, which I always promptly drank half of and then lost.

Emerson was everywhere, sledding with the older cousins, in a circle with aunts and girl cousins, a joint passing around. Laughing, hanging off Delia, talking shit to everyone, and having the best time in the world.

Mom, too.

She and Olivia were two peas in a pod. I saw them sitting with their heads together, Kleenex clutched in their hands, weeping—through what seemed like osmosis, I had a vague awareness that she'd lost her first husband as well, and I imagined she and Mom were talking about that. Hopefully, Olivia was giving Mom advice.

At some point, the younger kids conked out in the TV room with a Christmas movie going, a roomful of blanket-covered lumps.

Eventually, I caught Mom coming out of the powder room off the kitchen. "Hey, Mom. Saw you talking to Olivia a lot."

Her eyes swam a little, but she sounded lucid and with it when she spoke. "Yes, quite extensively. She's a lovely woman. She lost her first husband suddenly as well. It was wonderful to have someone who knows what I'm going through to commiserate with." She blinked at me. "I'm glad you brought me, Hayden. This has been a wonderful time."

I leaned against the wall, my head spinning. "It has."

"Hayden?"

I glanced at her. "Yeah, Ma?"

"You and Sunni…"

I palmed my face. "I already got the third degree from her family…twice. We're still figuring things out."

She shook her head. "No, I wasn't going to question you. I was going to say that she seems like a lovely, intelligent, wonderful young woman with a good head on her shoulders. She clearly comes from a wonderful family. You could do a heck of a lot worse."

I laughed. "Mom. I know, okay? But like I said, we're figuring things out. It's been two days. We leave, what, tomorrow? The next day?"

"The day after Christmas. So two days."

"I just want you to be happy. And it seems to me like she makes you happy." She yawned. "I'm probably ready to go soon, though."

"Yeah, probably. I admit I have no idea how we're getting there, though. Brock isn't flying us anywhere."

Claire, Brock's wife, a petite blonde with a loud, colorful personality even among this group, slipped past us into the bathroom, yelling through the door. "There's a car service. Dru has a number for you to text and they'll come get you."

I side-hugged Mom. "I'll get that arranged."

"Thanks, Hayden. I'm fading." She stifled another yawn and headed for the living room.

Olivia slid aside to make room for her on a loveseat, murmuring something to her. I found Dru, got the number, and requested the car service.

That's when Emerson found me, finally, and pulled me outside. She fished a huge fluffy blanket out of a chest that doubled as an ottoman and waited for me to sit down. When I did, she settled on my lap and wrapped the blanket around our shoulders and over our laps.

She rested her head on my chest. "Hi."

"Hey there. Good night?"

She nodded. "Very. I love these parties." She looked up at me. “They didn't give you too hard of a time, did they?"

"Nah." I laughed. "Well, I mean, it could have been worse. The second time, out on the deck—"

"Wait, the second time?"

"Yeah. The first was in the sauna after the dunking and then out on the deck a few hours ago. It was okay. They just want to make sure I'm not playing games. Playing a role to get into your pants. That kind of thing."

"What'd you say?"

"That they, well, Bast, mainly, needed to trust you because my intentions don't really matter, as long as they trust you to know what you want and take care of yourself." I let out a sigh, wrapping my arms tighter around her.

"I like that answer. How did he respond?"

"Well, he was concerned about the fact that I’m only here on vacation."

She pulled back and looked at me. "And?"

"I told him the truth—we're still figuring things out. I don't know what this is. Neither do you, I don't think. But I did tell him that if things with you and me progressed to that point, I work remotely so location isn’t a huge deal. The only complication is Mom—she's alone, now."

Emerson resumed resting against me. "You'd relocate?"

"Hell yes. As long as I felt like Mom was okay, yeah." I hesitated. "What, um…what are your plans after you graduate?"

She groaned. "I don't fucking know. I want to play pro and for the US women's team. If I don't make that, I don't know. Coach soccer somewhere, maybe?"

"What's your degree in?"

"Sports management."

"Coaching makes sense, then, I guess."

She nodded. "Yeah, but I'm hoping to play a bit longer. I'm sure I can make a professional team, but the US National Women’s Team is the real goal."

"You can do it."

She shrugged, sighed. "Thanks. We'll see."

"When can I see you again?"

She giggled. "See me in what sense?"

I snickered. "Yes."

"A bunch of us women are going to Anchorage to go shopping and have a spa day—another yearly tradition. Brock is flying us. Christmas Eve we're spending at Uncle Xavier and Aunt Low's during the day. We do a candlelight church service in the evening, and then the families all sort of do their own thing that night and Christmas morning, and then everyone comes here around lunch." She grunted in frustration. "So, I don't know, unfortunately."

"Our boat leaves the day after Christmas," I said.

There wasn't much to say, then, it seemed.

"You're not allowed to leave," she whispered. "I do not give you permission. Not until you and I get, like, one fucking hour alone and in private."

"Yes ma'am," I said, laughing.

She looked at me. "Who's joking?"

"I promise. We'll find time together."

A long silence. "What are you and your mom doing for actual Christmas day?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Something on the boat, I think? Not sure."

She sighed. "I'm gonna talk to Bast and Dru."

"About?"

“You should be with us. You shouldn't be alone or on some boat with a few thousand strangers."

"It's okay, Em. You deserve time with your family. We don't want to intrude on that."

"If you’re invited, it's not intruding. I just can't unilaterally decide that for my whole family."

"You guys have been so welcoming. You've made what would have been a pretty depressing Christmas into something amazing." I inhaled the scent of her hair.

"I'm feeling things, Hayden," she whispered. "Emotions. Big ones. What do we do with that?"

"I am too, and I don't know. Take it one step at a time, I guess."

She wiggled her butt against my crotch. "I think I know the big things you're feeling."

I clutched her hard. "Hey, now. Our car's gonna be here any minute. Don't start something we can’t finish."

A sigh. "Fine." She laughed. "I just can't help it. I'm a horny bitch and you turn me on."

"I'm not complaining, believe me." I kissed the top of her head. I touched her chin, tilted her face up to mine. "Thank you for inviting us, Emerson. It’s meant more to me, and especially my mom, than I can ever express."

"CAR'S HERE!" A male voice boomed.

I groaned. "That's my cue."

Emerson clung to me. "No. You can't."

I stood up with her, laughing. "Fine. I'll just bring you with me. I'll tell boat security that I grew a barnacle."

She slid to her feet. "Fine. But I protest." She gazed up at me with emotions boiling in her eyes. "I'll figure something out and call you, okay?"

"Sounds good."

"Kiss me?"

"Try and stop me," I said, and cupped her head in my hand, touched my lips to hers, and tasted the sweetness of her lips, her tongue, her breath.

I heard a throat clear and broke away to see Mom with her purse and coat. "Sorry to interrupt, kids."

I touched my forehead to Emerson's. "Soon."

"Soon." She lifted up and kissed me again, a quick peck, and then stepped back out of my arms and wrapped the blanket around herself, watching as Mom and I made our exit—which took a minute since we had to say goodbye and hug a good three-quarters of everyone on the way to the door.

Mom was asleep before we left their driveway. I, however, lay awake for hours after we got back to our rooms, trying to figure out what working things out with her would mean and how we could be together despite the logistical complications.

I fell asleep without any answers.