Mistletoe Misses

Chapter 14

Maddox

O ver the next two hours, every kiss compounds my need to erase them from my memory with the feel of Carmen’s skin. Addie must have changed her mind because after Cooper saw her in the beginning, she never reappeared. To say Aaron is disappointed would be the biggest understatement of the year, but he’ll have to drown his sorrows with someone else tonight. I have plans.

When the last woman exits the gazebo, I say goodbye to my brothers, jog across Main Street, and down Braddock Road to the hot cocoa stand. As promised, Carmen is waiting for me, but she’s not alone. Addie sits with her at a picnic table, and they’re deep in conversation.

She sees me stop inside the tent’s entrance, and I have all her attention. Following her gaze, Addie grins at me, then leaves to give us space. She and anyone with a view of us can hear our silent conversation this time. It’s loud, palpable, and as compelling as it has always been. So much for keeping our budding reconnection private.

On my way to her, she watches my every step and when I straddle the bench to sit facing her.

“Thank you for waiting.”

“I always will, Maddox. Until you say otherwise, and probably even then.”

I take her hand under the table to let her feel how much that statement affects me because I don’t have the words.

“Where’s Sadie?” I finally ask.

“Weekly grandparent’s sleepover,” she says, letting me know with her eyes that the offer for our own sleepover still stands. “Where’s Trixie?”

Jumping up in a panic, I bump my knee on the table and bounce through the radiating pain while searching for her. She’s not here. “I must have left her at the gazebo.”

“Let’s go.” She grabs my hand, and we take off toward Loving’s Park.

When we arrive, the gazebo has been cleared and no one lingers about to ask if they’ve seen her. I whip out my phone and send a group text to my siblings.

Me: Anyone have Trixie?

Kendall: You lost that sweet baby?

Me: No time for that.

Cooper: I don’t.

Aaron: Nope. So glad you texted. My lips are too sore to talk.

Kendall: You need to find her. Dottie would be devastated.

Me: Not helping.

Kendall: Just making sure you know how dire your situation is.

Me: Got it.

Our park search leaves us empty-handed, and my military, law enforcement, and yoga training do nothing to calm my panic. I’ve resorted to Dottie’s fretting, terrified she’s injured or wandering through town cold and alone, wondering why I abandoned her. Give me a reckless criminal over a lost, heartbroken puppy any day. This is torture.

Nearly an hour after working our way through town, we stop at the end of Main Street, and I plop onto the bench outside the pool hall to think. Not only will Dottie be devastated, but Nana will never let me live this down. And if I’m being honest, Dottie isn’t the only one who would be upset if anything happened to Trixie. She’s kept me company through too many lonely and baffling hours not to form an attachment.

“Maddox …” Carmen points through the windows of Billy’s Billiards and Bar. “Is that …”

My eyes dart through the busy room and land on Trixie chasing pool balls on top of a table. A bearded guy in a brown leather vest with peppermint candy buttons and a white cowboy hat gently taps them with the cue to give her something to chase. More men and women in matching attire, tough yet festive, and muscular physiques watch from the surrounding bar tables.

“I’ve got this.”

“Got what?”

With the determination of Santa on Christmas Eve, she shoots inside and stalks toward what I can only classify as a biker gang with holiday spirit. I follow closely behind in case a bar fight breaks out since Carmen looks ready to start one.

“Oh, thank you so much,” she says, pressing a palm to her chest in her best Dottie impression.

“Excuse me?” Cowboy Hat asks.

“You found my baby.” She reaches for Trixie, but he steps in front of her, blocking her path. Carmen’s head tilts as her hand finds her punched-out hip in a no, you didn’t stance.

“How do I know she’s yours?” he challenges. “She doesn’t look excited to see you.”

“That’s because she prefers my boyfriend.”

Like Aaron’s had earlier when he heard Addie’s name, my head snaps to Carmen at her casual use of the boyfriend title. The room blurs, combining the conversation and loud, overhead music into the voice of Charlie Brown’s teacher—all noise with no discernable words or lyrics. Doesn’t matter. I’m too lost, trying to figure out where my opinion falls on the boyfriend matter, to comprehend it anyway.

On the one hand, neither of us is dating anyone else. We’re exclusive without labels. On the other hand, we only reconnected a week ago. While I can’t deny my attraction or residual feelings for her, there’s plenty left for us to figure out.

Shapes and shadows move in my line of sight, but I see nothing until Trixie yelps, yanking me from my trance. Refocusing on my surroundings, I locate her in the biker’s massive hands beside me. Her little legs wiggle in the air in a fight to get to me. The evidence must be adequate to convince him of Carmen’s earlier statement because he hands her over with disappointment drooping his overly tanned face.

“Thank you so much for keeping her safe,” Carmen says over her shoulder while pushing me toward the exit.

The cool air slaps my skin, and thanks to my wayward mind, it’s a quiet trek back to the General Store.

She stops outside the building’s private back entrance and takes my hand. “You don’t have to walk me upstairs. It’s late, and I can see you formulating your refusal to extend the night if asked. I’d like to save us both the embarrassment.”

“Carmen …”

“It’s okay. I understand,” she says sweetly, and I believe her.

“Actually, I would like to if you’re up for it.”

“Of course I am. You never have to ask or wonder.”

“I’d like to talk.”

Amusement hums in her throat. “Does that mean you’re all kissed out?”

“Not where you’re concerned.”

“Good to know.” Slowly, she inserts the key into the deadbolt with a smile, sending a streak of desire straight through my mid-section and into regions I shouldn’t be thinking about.

We walk up the back staircase, and once inside her apartment, I set Trixie on the living room chair. Exhausted from her adventures, she spins in a few circles and falls into immediate slumber.

“Can I get you a drink?”

“A beer sounds great if you have it.”

“I bought a six-pack earlier this week to be prepared for this moment.” With an adorable wink, she dives into the refrigerator and joins me on the couch soon after, passing over one of the bottles she carried over.

Following a long pull, I start at ground zero. “When you were talking with the gang, you—”

“The gang?” She giggles, knowing exactly who I’m referring to.

The question was asked just to get a rise out of me, and it worked. I’m back to teetering on an unsteady foundation with the purpose of this conversation coming up next.

“They were obviously a biker gang—threatening or not.”

“Got it. Please continue.”

I catch her grinning behind the bottle and wish my man card hadn’t been ripped to pieces by this whole Trixie conundrum.

“Anyway, I can’t stop thinking about you calling me your boyfriend. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that grace your lips.”

“Oh.” Sensing my unease, she sets her drink on the coffee table and rests an elbow on the back cushion.

I know she wishes for me to be excited instead of freaked out, but I can only give her honesty. We deserve that much while we’re wading through this strange new relationship territory together.

“I was acting,” she explains. “And that title was a lot simpler than the complicated truth.”

“What truth?”

“That we’re exes trying to determine if a second chance is in the cards as we take baby steps toward something neither of us can see from where we’re at in this non-committed arrangement.”

“That is complicated.”

“See? He didn’t need to get all up in our business, so I shortened it to something he would understand to get us out of there. I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”

I considered my initial physical reaction to the idea and how I feel now that it’s settled in my overworked brain. The before and after perspectives are night and day. “It just stunned me at first.”

“And now?”

Wading through my thoughts, I take in my view, and she does the same to me. The soft glow of the lamp on her long waves has me itching to trail my fingers through them again. Her eyes, tinted navy with desire, watch me as I reach for the lock of hair falling over her shoulder.

“I think …” I pause to brush a thumb across her cheek, loving the pink tint my touch puts there. “I’d like to try on the title for a bit.”

The confession brings a satisfied smile to her glossy lips before she tucks it away to continue setting up our new arrangement. “That’s the best news I’ve heard in a while, but should we keep it secret while you see how it fits on you? Less pressure that way.”

“I’d appreciate that. Nana’s already on my case about my life, and I can only imagine the field day she’ll have with this. I’m not ready to deal with that just yet.”

“No problem. What about kissing? Do you need a break, or can we—”

My hand on the back of her neck lures her lips to mine in the most satisfying response to her question.

“Great answer.” Her teeth graze her bottom lip, and I can’t decide if she’s recovering from the same explosion of need I got or trying to tempt me into doing it again. I’m contemplating it when she says, “Now, I’m wondering about sleepovers. Got a position on those?”

Perfect. How can I focus when I’m thinking about touching her nude body? “Let’s play it by ear.” Before my heart implodes.

“Okay.” She scoots closer and drapes both legs over my thigh. “Will you call me your girlfriend in private?”

“Every chance I can get.”

Her arms raise to my shoulders, fingers combing through the hair on the back of my head. It’s almost long enough for her to grasp, and I think I’ll grow it out for that reason alone. Chief won’t care for my hair growing longer—

I’ve been Carmen’s for less than a few minutes and already forgotten about the main reason I came back to Ember Falls. To save my job.

Do I want to save it? I’ve given five years to that department and built a name for myself as a good, hard-working, ethical cop. But what kind of life did that create for me? Nothing worth nurturing, that’s for sure. And after getting Carmen back, do I want to put distance between us again? Starting a new job in a new place sounds overwhelming, and I’d have no idea where to start … if I am even ready for that change.

My brain is flying through all the unknowns at a nauseating speed, and I don’t notice Carmen watching me.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks, placing a hand on my chest, concern carved into every feature on her face.

“Boston.”

“Oh. What about it?”

“It’s two hours away.” I link my fingers with hers and rest our hands on my thigh. Her other hand absently combs through my hair. The feel of her fingernails on my skin soothes my racing pulse to a slow jog.

“Do you worry about us surviving a long-distance relationship? Because I don’t.”

I grin at that. “It’s not you I worry about.”

“What do you mean?”

I can see her reading into the meaning of my statement, and her conclusions aren’t flattering. “I meant my life there isn’t healthy—mentally. I love what I do, but it’s not enough.”

She puts on a grin, her strength building a foundation for us both. “I can schedule my store responsibilities around your shifts for visits, or …” she guides, hoping I’ll finish the thought. I know she doesn’t want to be the one to say it since she’s been the instigator of almost every step we’ve taken so far.

“Or …” I repeat to make her squirm, and it works. The sweet pink color I adore returns to her cheeks.

Lifting my hand, she kisses the inside of my wrist before finding my gaze. “What if you didn’t go back to Boston?” Letting that sink in, she waits for the answer I don’t have. “Whatever you decide, I’ll support you, but if you’re considering not going even the least little bit … stay.”

She blinks back tears, ripping me in two. We won’t be able to keep this obscurity going for much longer. The end of my admin leave is approaching, and Carmen deserves answers. Like she wanted to do for me at eighteen, I refuse to let her push the pause button on her life while I’m learning to juggle the pieces of mine.

While I figure out where my priorities lie and what I can’t live without, maybe the answers will come to me if I can relax my overthinking tendencies, clear the fog they create, and break the tether on my heart, as my mother often requests. After all, I haven’t had any luck following my usual patterns and habits.

Until clarity arrives, all I can do is hold Carmen and appreciate what we are in each evolving moment of our relationship.