Accidentally Under Your Tree (Grand Ridge Christmas #1)

9. Lizzy

Four nights before Christmas

Even if the white wine glass in Mom's hand wasn't there, I would have been able to tell she had already drunk a couple from the pink in her cheeks. The sour smell of it was on her breath as she gave me a one-armed hug. Lowering to the metal chair next to me, she crossed her legs. "Hi, baby."

"Hi, Mom." I gestured to the room with a chocolate-covered strawberry. "You transformed the KC Hall, yet again."

She lifted her chin. "It's a skill."

"It really is. Having fun?"

"I always have such a good time at these parties." A couple of her words slurred together. It didn't happen often, but she was a sloppy and happy drunk. "What about you?"

"I haven't been here that long, and I'm driving, so I'll probably keep it to one drink." I pointed to my half full white wine.

"Your dad and I can give you a ride home."

"If that ice storm rolls in early tomorrow, I don't want my car stuck here."

"Oh baby, it's not coming for another 48-hours. And who cares if your car is here? It's no big deal."

"They'll have to plow the parking lot. I don't want it to get buried."

She stacked a cracker with Parmesan cheese and salami from my plate. "You worry too much."

"You're right, I'll just stop that."

"Good." Plopping the cracker in her mouth, she considered me. After swallowing, she said, "You and Rose are spending more time together.”

I didn’t want to get hers, or my, hopes up, not when I knew how badly she wanted us to be best friends again. But I had to face the possibility that Rose might go back to Kansas City and not talk to me again until Thanksgiving. So, I gave Mom a noncommittal shrug.

She narrowed her eyes. “What do you think of Will?"

That I'm entirely too into him.

Hell, earlier today, I'd swooned like a regency romance heroine who'd never touched a man. All because he'd helped me brush a horse . I had traced a scar cut through the knuckle on his third finger. The white line was stark against his work-worn skin. When, in fact, I'd already had Will inside of me. I'd moaned and begged, wanton and hungry.

I found him at Rose's side. Our eyes met—we blinked and looked away.

"He seems really nice." My voice came out a little too high. I cleared my throat. "What do you think?"

"He's a nice man…” she turned her head toward Lawrence still nursing a beer and stealing glances of Rose. “I wish she wouldn't flaunt him in front of Lawrence, though."

My chair creaked as I sat up straight. " Flaunt him? That's a bit much. Is she supposed to not let her boyfriend touch her to spare her ex's feelings? Which he might not feel anything about."

He did. He definitely did, but that wasn't the point.

It was strange to defend my sister's right to receive the affection I desperately wished was for me.

"You know what I mean."

"I don't."

"I feel bad for Lawrence. He's been pining for her for so long, and she just floats in and out of his life."

Rubbing circles at the joint of my jaw, I exhaled before saying, "He is responsible for himself."

"Feelings get complicated."

"Doesn't change anything."

"You've always been so practical, and sometimes romance isn't practical."

"Mom, I have experienced romance."

"But have you ever been swept away?"

I groaned and rolled my eyes, which made her groan and roll her eyes.

"Some day, Lizzy, I hope you know what it is to be overpowered by your feelings for someone. To be illogical for someone."

Oh, the irony .

She turned her face to the ceiling as if she might find patience to deal with me up there. "Your sister might not be doing anything wrong, but she hasn't been doing the right thing by him for a while."

She'd uttered some version of these words throughout the years. The worst part was, I did understand her point. But the only people who knew the complete story were Rose and Lawrence, so who were we to judge?

"It's none of your business, Mom."

"I'm not saying it is." She held her hands up, one palm out, her other hand still held her wine, the contents sloshing dangerously close to the top. "I'm just saying that I empathize with Lawry."

"I think you're being unfair. He's just as responsible as she is."

"I never said he wasn't."

"But you feel bad for him? But not for her?"

"How do you think your sister would feel if the roles were reversed?"

I spoke in hushed tones, my irritation making my words string tightly together. "I would think a little relieved."

"That's the stu—“she pinched her lips together before correcting herself"—silliest thing I've ever heard."

My mouth hung open for a moment. "Were you going to say stupid?"

"No," Mom cringed, "yes, but I caught myself."

I snorted.

I couldn't explain why it was funny, but we both started laughing. She asked how horseback riding went, and we left the subject of my sister and her love life alone.

Mitchell Williams spotted me before I spotted him. Avoiding him had been my main extra-curricular in high school. I was clearly out of practice because he swung his heavy arm across my shoulders. Beer spilled from his plastic cup and barely missed the toe of my boot.

It was late enough in the night that voices had raised in volume, and everything was a bit funnier than it had been a few beers ago. I was still sober but enjoying myself. Or I had been about four seconds ago.

He spoke directly to my breasts. "Lizzy, you've got a hot kindergarten teacher thing goin'."

With as little enthusiasm as I felt, I said, "Crayons on sweaters really do it for you?"

His grin took on a lascivious edge. "When they're on you."

"Avert your gaze."

"You always have something smart to say."

"Wish I could say the same."

"I hear you're finally single."

"Single doesn't mean interested, Mitchell." I tried to shrug out from under his arm, but he pulled me in tighter.

I shot him my most haughty, threatening glare. Considering how often he'd been on the receiving end, he was impervious. If I had known it only took a boyfriend to keep Mitchell from acting like a jackass, I would have lied about having one, too. "Get your arm off of me."

"We could be good, you know."

Will appeared in front of us. He had moved so quickly that I hadn't even noticed him coming. "Hey, man. I'm Will."

Mitchell tilted his head dumbly but didn't let me go to shake the hand extended to him. "I thought you were Bill."

"It's Will." There was a dangerous glint in his eyes, contrasting the big smile on his face. Under the tangled strings of Christmas lights, they appeared black. They darkened when he saw the frustration on my face. He jerked his still waiting hand. "You gonna leave me hanging?"

The pressure on my shoulders lifted, and I took one big step away. I was at equal parts relieved and irritated. What kind of bullshit was it that Mitchell would listen to a man, but not me?

Dick.

Shaking Will's hand, Mitchell introduced himself.

But when he went to retrieve his hand, Will didn't let go. His knuckles whitened from the force of his grip. His smile twisted into something menacing. With a voice lower and more threatening than I would have thought he was capable of, he said, "You're gonna keep this paw off of her."

I decided the thrill his protectiveness sent through me didn't deserve criticism.

"The fuck?" Mitchell pulled at his hand again. He was a little shorter than Will, and I could see Mitchell assessing the outcome of a physical fight. It didn't look good for him.

"Don't touch her again."

"What are you gonna do about it?"

"Why does he have to do anything?" I demanded, my arms crossed. "I want you to leave me alone."

Mitchell opened his mouth, but I cut him off, "Look, I'm your bosses' daughter. They wouldn't like to hear about this. You wanna keep your job?"

"That's fucked up."

I had to force my words through clenched teeth. "What's fucked up is ignoring what a woman wants."

He looked like he wanted to call me a name or two, but took in the warning written into every inch of Will—his weight on the balls of his feet, the bunch of his shoulders, and the watchfulness of his eyes. For the first time in his life, Mitchell did the smart thing and moved back. His hand, finally freed from Will's grip, was red.

Will turned his profile to me, watching the other man retreat. A muscle flexed in his jaw, and I resisted the urge to kiss him there. I was more than capable of taking care of myself, but having him watch out for me… He was making it hard to manage how much I liked him and perpetuating his and Rose's story.

I ran my fingers through my hair. "Thanks."

He shook his head.

Crossing my arms, I tore my eyes from the stern set of his brow. "You know I would have handled him, right?"

"Of course. I didn't like the look on your face when he had you like that, though." He rocked back on his heels. "Is it okay that I intervened?"

I nodded. "It sped the process up."

We considered each other for a moment. There was so much distance between us, and I just wanted to close it. The yearning was a physical ache. A deprivation pressed into the cavities of my heart.

"I like your shirt," he finally said.

I grinned. "What a perfectly acceptable way to say that."

His eyebrows pinched together, but I shook my head. Glancing down at the red and green crayons stacked on top of each other to make a Christmas tree, I said, "Thank you. I love the snowflake pushpins."

"It's cute."

"I like yours too."

He grabbed the hem and looked down like he had forgotten what he was wearing. The sweater was knit to look like a red and green flannel with fake buttons and all. "It's pretty cool, right?"

I giggled. "Cool, that's the word I'd use."

"No?" He smiled his winsome smile, drawing me into his warmth.

"Bill, right?"

I jumped, forgetting other people were nearby.

"That's me." Will's usual grin fit back onto his face, directing it toward one of my parents' supervisors. This time when he shook the man's hand, it was friendly and not at all like he might tear the stranger apart.

The man pointed the mouth of his beer toward Will. "You do good work."

"Thank you," he said, but he glanced my way.

It's okay , I mouthed, taking a step back and turning. Behind me, I heard the man say, "There was a tray ceiling you did a couple months ago. Great truss work."

I'd seen people in town chat with Rose about the show over the past couple of years, but I had figured it was because she was from here. To see the excitement on people's faces to talk to Will, a stranger, was a little off-putting.

Mariah Carey sang All I Want for Christmas through the speakers, and I sighed wondering if it was possible for me to reserve a little part of Will for myself when everyone wanted his Bill persona too.

Will

Four nights before Christmas

"Is it true you might get on Netflix or something?" the man asked. I still hadn't gotten his name. But we'd talked about roof trusses at length. The whole time, I kept Lizzy in my peripheral vision.

The moment she'd arrived, she'd been a menace to my focus. With her navy pants following the curve of her hips and thighs. Her sweater accentuating her fullness. Even from a distance, I liked the way she moved. It wasn't necessarily graceful, but it was purposeful. There was an assuredness and efficiency to her steps. And those smiles that I'd fallen so hard for did not get handed out easily—making them that much more precious.

When that dickhead had touched her, I'd struggled with a nagging jealousy. I had no right to dislike anyone talking to her. Not while stapled to Rose's side, pretending to be a dutiful boyfriend. Lizzy's irritated expression had propelled me without so much as an, 'I'll be right back.' My vision turned red when she'd tried getting out from under his arm.

Watching her from afar, I grappled between only wanting to be with her and knowing that was the last place I should be.

"Somthin' like that." I'd emailed our agent, Elise, reporting our recent jump in followers a few hours ago, but I hadn't gotten a response yet.

"So how did you two get started?"

"Rose and I worked for the same builder, and neither of us liked the way he was doing things, so we bought a house and flipped it. She recorded the whole thing, and it's been going ever since," I explained.

"Oh, no, I know that from the show. I meant, how did you two start dating? Did you ask her?"

"Uh…"

Oh shit. How did we not discuss this question?

"It wasn't…You know…It just kinda happened," I stammered. "I think she asked me."

A crease formed between his brows.

I opened my mouth to stammer a better story when Lizzy strolled to the front hallway. Fear that she might leave gripped me, and my need to be near her grew too strong to fight. It overwhelmed all my thoughts. Just one more…I didn’t know what would satisfy me.

"Will you excuse me?" I asked, but I was already walking away.

Taking long strides, I made my way to Lizzy with the stealth of an old spy movie—shoulders hunched, and glancing side to side.

I turned into the coat closet and found her pushing her arm through her sleeve. The soft purple color deepened the brown of her eyes bringing out the gold. Her hair cascaded in waves. The tether I held on to my resistance broke somewhere within the part of her lips.

I had just enough presence of mind to search for a door to close. Some semblances of privacy. There wasn't one. But the racks sat further from the walls than was necessary. Just enough room. Probably.

Looking over my shoulder, I checked for anyone within sight. I put a hand on her hip. Her palms pressed to my chest. Her softly floral scent tickled at the back of my brain and woke something primal. I needed her pressed between me and the wall. I needed to run my hands up her curves. I needed her mouth on mine.

The hangers clattered together as I shoved my shoulder between them, creating an opening wide enough to fit behind them. She hurried between the fabric, and I followed. For a moment we froze suspended in time. On the other side the party continued. Noise. People.

But in our makeshift hiding spot, it was just us.

"It's a bad idea," she whispered, understanding my purpose without explanation.

"It is," I agreed, but her mouth on mine swallowed my words.

I bit back a groan. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders. One of her hands raked through my hair. I leveraged her tighter to the wall, holding onto her soft waist. The desire to drive our forbidden kiss deeper was a deafening thunder throughout my body. Her head fell back as I ground my hips into hers, my erection seeking her warmth.

She tasted even better than I remembered.

How could a memory fade in only a few days? Especially as I clung to it, as if it might have saved me from a breaking point just like this.

I pinched her bottom lip between my teeth, and then let it slip gently free.

It wasn't enough. It couldn't be. It was a drop in a desert when I was dying of thirst.

Her breaths wracked through my chest.

I took in the garments hiding us. Regret turned just below my ribs. How could I protect her if we got caught? She deserved so much better than this.

"I want more," she said, barely loud enough to hear.

"I want to give you more." I hoped she could see the truth of those words. That the word 'more' could be replaced with 'everything.'

Pressing my forehead to hers, I struggled with my shame. “I’m sorry, Lizzy.”

“I…understand.” Her acceptance brought me even lower—I would be underground soon.

I took in her swollen lips and the pink smear of her lipstick. Before I could change my mind, I took a step away. "You should leave first."

She tilted her head. For a moment, it looked like she might pull me back. And God knew I wouldn't resist her. But she slipped out, leaving me to pull upon every ounce of willpower I had not to follow her.

The coats swung on their hangers, and I wrestled with the possibility that I was making a huge mistake. Lying about my relationship with Rose, might land us a streaming deal. But it could also cost me a chance with Lizzy.

The clock in Rose's, and my bedroom continued to tick. Before she'd fallen asleep in the bed, she'd whispered, "I think you'd be good for Anne."

After a half-second to remember that Anne was Lizzy, I asked with too much enthusiasm, "Why do you say that?"

"Well, I know she'd be good for you. She'd help you plan better and be less spontaneous. Which obviously isn't a bad thing, but there's an argument that you and I could be more thoughtful."

"You mean like, not pretending to be your boyfriend for Internet clout?"

"Perfect example."

I grinned up at the ceiling. "Why would I be good for her, though?"

"You're loyal, and honest. And Anne deserves someone who is…captivated by her."

I was. She'd trapped me and I just wanted more of her captivity.

I swallowed, preparing myself. "I kissed her tonight."

"You did what?" Rose sat up in the bed to glare down at me.

"Yeah, I know. I'm a jackass."

"Yes, absolutely. But did she kiss you back?"

I thought of her fingers in my hair and her hungry mouth on mine. "Yeah."

"Wow." She fell back onto her pillow. "I might be wrong. You might be a terrible influence on her."

"Do you actually think that?"

“No, but you really are being a jackass.”

I didn’t bother to argue.

Rose fell asleep shortly afterward. I'd spent an unknown amount of time with my eyes closed, counting my breaths, praying for sleep. But it wouldn't come.

It was growing increasingly difficult in the quiet hours of the night to resist the urge to find Lizzy. To tap quietly on her closed door. To wait with held breath for her to allow me into her room. Praying to go unnoticed.

It was reckless. Getting caught fooling around with Lizzy would be immature at best. Her parents would never forgive me. It might salvage the situation if Rose and I came clean with her parents, but it wouldn't endear them to me. And my long game was to date Lizzy, to get to know her. Although we didn’t need their approval it would help.

There was something right between Lizzy and me. Even if wanting her was sweet torture.

I knew the taste of her, the way she gasped at my touch. She was everything I craved. Needing her was in my veins like fire. There was no putting it out. I just had to withstand it.

I could.

I would.

But I found myself throwing the covers off my torso and pushing to stand.

On bare feet, I padded out of the bedroom into the hallway.

Go back. You've already fucked up once today. Don't push your luck , the wiser part of my brain urged. I didn't listen.

The wood floors were cold on the soles of my feet. I stepped as quietly as manageable. My heartbeat like thunder shaking the earth. Every breath boomed down the quiet hall. It was in my head. I knew that. But just like I knew it was a terrible idea to stand outside of her door, I paused anyway.

Pressing my ear to the wood, I tapped twice with my fingertips. Waited.

Nothing.

She was probably sleeping. I should be too.

Go back to your room .

I'd dodged a disaster of my making. No one had seen me outside of her room like a desperately horny teenager. The possibility of a future with Lizzy hadn't imploded in my face. Really, it was only a few more days of staying under the same roof and then there'd be…so much space between us. States upon states between us—a quarter of a large country.

I missed her already. The feeling unjustified and confusing. If having her this close and out of touch was torture, the concept of so much distance was definitely worse.

I continued down the hall toward the dim light over the kitchen sink. Less careful to be silent, I opened a couple of cupboards, searching for a cup. I filled it and clung to the cold glass like it was a grip on my sanity. Lifting it to my mouth, I considered tossing it in my face. Something to break me out of this daze. Life was out of focus and hazy, and she was in vivid detail. The red and gold strands amongst the brown of her hair. The gentle press of her clavicles against her skin. The dimples at the base of her spine hidden under her clothes.

Running a hand down my face, I begged to a higher power for strength as I downed the glass of water in thirsty gulps.

I braced my hands on either side of the sink, glowering at my reflection in the window above it.

My smarter half was about to win out when an uncorked bottle of red wine on the counter caught my attention. From behind the basement door, came muffled Christmas music.

Even my smarter self fell quiet.