Christmas By Design

17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Beckett

I try to find an ounce of shame for the way I ogle Gemma as she hurries to the bathroom, but I have none. Her ass is perfect. I’m only a little shocked at the revelation that I would like to look at it every day.

The plow outside scrapes against the pavement again, and I’m quickly reminded that this situation between us is about to end as soon as we leave this house. I’m sure she doesn’t want to carry any of what happened over the last twenty-four hours outside of here. The guys at the office already give her enough shit; she doesn’t need them thinking she’s getting special treatment because she’s with me on top of it. I don’t even know if she wants to be with me, or what “with me” looks like. She’s got a kid, for crying out loud. I can’t just waltz into her life like there aren’t any repercussions if things don’t work out.

This is a mess. And I don’t do messes. I do white walls, clean lines, and a nice, quiet Christmas.

For a minute this morning, when I was awake and rekindling the fire, I looked outside and figured there was no way we’d be getting out of here before tomorrow. I had visions of whiskey and peanut butter and Gemma’s luscious curves dancing in my head. But this plow is clearing those away with the snow, and it’s turning everything sour.

I pull my clothes on with more force than absolutely necessary and head outside before Gemma leaves the bathroom. Maybe the fresh air will do me good.

“Morning!” a young man shouts as he jumps down from his truck. There’s a plow attached to the front of it, and he’s holding a shovel in his hand. “I’m Jack.”

“Beckett,” I reply, shielding my eyes against the harsh, winter sun bouncing off the bright snow. “My… coworker and I got stuck here last night. We’re working on renovating the house.”

“Ah,” Jack says as if this explains something. “I knew this wasn’t Mrs. Dash’s car, but I thought maybe her son bought a new one and was visiting for Christmas or something. I hadn’t heard she was renovating.”

It’s clear this man wants to chat with me, and I don’t do chats, so I shrug. “Well, she is.”

“Makes sense. Mr. Dash left her a lot of money, and this place could use an update.” Jack whistles approvingly. “She hires me to do odd jobs every so often. That’s why I’m here. I always plow the road and dig out her car after a storm,” he says by way of explanation. “And, you know, to check up on her. It’s the neighborly thing to do, right?”

“Right.” I jam my hands in my pockets. Jack finally stops talking and clears enough of a space behind my car that I’ll be able to back out of the driveway and onto the one lane of freshly-plowed country road.

I should be grateful. This way, Gemma and I won’t be able to get in any deeper or make things any messier. I can go back to my condo, check on my cat, and pour myself some brandy. Like I always do on Christmas Eve. Who cares if my fireplace is gas-powered and chic, not the huge wood-burning hearth Gemma and I made love in front of. Twice. It’s for the best, probably, because then I won’t be reminded of the way her skin felt against mine, or how my heart felt funny when she repeatedly called out my name.

As if thinking of her summons her, the screen door behind me bangs, and she comes up next to me. Her scent envelops me—all spice and sugar.

Jack pauses in the process of loading his shovel into the back of his truck. “Mornin’, Miss,” he says. “I was telling your coworker here, I always come plow Mrs. Dash’s route after a storm like this. I wasn’t sure she’d be here or with her son, but I saw your car and figured you could use some help getting out of here.”

She seems to tense at the word “coworker,” but then claps her gloved hands and wiggles. “This is amazing. Thank you so much.”

“No problem. You both have a merry Christmas, okay?” Jack strides quickly back to the warmth of his truck and waves at us as he backs out and continues plows down the street.

I scowl after the truck as I watch it continue to clear the snow off the abandoned country road, but I can feel Gemma’s eyes on me. I suppose I’ll have to deal with this sooner rather than later. But when I finally look at her, those green eyes are wide with excitement, as if Jack was her own, personal Santa Claus, and the ability to spend Christmas Eve with her family was the only gift she ever wanted.

“We should clean up,” I hedge, hoping to have at least a little more time to get my head on straight. Maybe to even talk to her about whatever this was.

“I did already. That’s what took me so long.” Sure enough, a bag of leftover groceries sits at her feet.

“The fire, though. We have to make sure it’s out,” I insist.

Gemma shakes her head. “There was a fire blanket next to the fireplace. Plus, it was almost out. I used the blanket and water. We’re good.”

I study her for a long time, trying and failing to come up with any more reasons to stay. “Well,” I finally say. “Let’s get you home, I guess.”

I’m miserably bad at small talk. Turns out I’m miserably bad at big talk, too. There is a giant elephant in this car with us, and I’m too chicken shit to talk about it. So, we end up making the entire drive back to her parents’ house in silence.

But Gemma doesn’t say anything, either. She just stares out the passenger window. Even though she’s not biting her nails this time, it seems obvious after a while that she’s purposely not looking at me. She regrets our time together now that we’re in the light of day. I’m sure of it. She’s thought this through, realized I’m technically her superior, or that our personalities clash and she’d rather not spend any more time with my grumpy ass than she has to, or that she can’t introduce me to her kid. Or maybe even that I’m simply too old for her. Ten years is a lot for some people. Whatever it is, she’s over it, and she just doesn’t want to break it to me. Back to normal.

I tell myself it’s fine. In fact, by the time I’ve pulled into her parents’ driveway, I’ve decided it’s a good call. All of those things are true, and we can’t change them just because we had incredible sex. Or just because I think she’s adorable and funny. Or that I’ve never felt this way about a woman before.

A chubby face appears in the window of the house behind an outline of large, colorful Christmas lights that are unlit in the waning daylight. A tree fills the window next to them, and the lights on it twinkle from inside. Nova sees her mom and starts jumping up and down, banging on the glass. A woman who must be Gemma’s mother appears behind her and lifts her up gently. They wave at us, and Gemma’s entire body leans forward in her seat as if she’s being pulled toward them by an invisible force.

But she stays in the car instead of leaping out of it and leaving me in the dust like I expect her to.

“Do you want to come in?” She doesn’t take her eyes off her daughter.

I’m not sure I heard her right. “What?” I ask.

She turns to me then, her gorgeous eyes almost pleading. “Come in. No one should be alone on Christmas Eve.”

I frown at her. “I like being alone on Christmas Eve.”

She tilts her head and regards me as if she knows I’m full of shit. And maybe I am, but when I glance back at her daughter waiting excitedly for her mom to get out of my car and celebrate the holiday with her, I’m sure I’m making the right decision. Gemma can’t just try me out, let Nova get attached, and watch me walk away unscathed. That happened to my own mother one time, and it was enough to turn her off from dating for the rest of her life. I can’t allow that to happen to Gemma. She’s got a whole life ahead of her. She has other things to worry about besides her own broken heart, if it were to come to that.

No. It’s best if I go home, drink my brandy, and cuddle my cat.

I shake my head. “Go spend time with your family, Gemma,” I say quietly. “It’s what you wanted for Christmas.”

She deflates a bit, but perks right up again when Nova leans forward from her grandma’s arms to bang on the window one more time. “Okay,” Gemma says, resigned. “I’ll see you after the holidays, then, I guess.”

She shoots me one last questioning glance, as if wondering if maybe I’d want to see each other before then. Of course I do, but I don’t even know what that would look like. I’m not going to make promises I can’t keep right now, so I nod once.

She blinks rapidly a few times, then swallows before she gets out of the car. I watch her walk all the way to the door, which opens for her as soon as she approaches. Nova practically launches herself into Gemma’s arms before she’s across the threshold.

It’s a sweet reunion, and I know from talking to her on the floor of that dark, cold office that Gemma is over the moon to see her daughter after the impromptu night away. So, I try not to be too hurt that she doesn’t even spare me a glance before the door closes behind her.