Riding Dirty for Christmas (Bringing Home Trouble)

Chapter 9

Jack

“ P ivot!” Eden's voice rings out as we wrestle the massive Fraser fir through the HideOut's doorway. “No, the other way!”

“There is no other way,” I grunt. The tree's taking up the whole damn entrance, and Eden's backed into the doorframe, snow melting in her hair as she guides her end through. A blast of December wind follows us in, rattling the vintage beer signs on the walls.

“Trust me on this.” Her blue eyes sparkle. “If we angle it—” She shifts left and the tree suddenly slides through, showering us both in snow and loose needles. Her triumphant laugh hits me straight in the chest.

I'm still buzzing from earlier at the rink - her genuine laugh when I caught her, the way she fit perfectly against me, how right it felt teaching her to skate. My hands still burn where I'd touched her waist. She's awakening parts of me I thought were long frozen.

“Okay, this way.” Eden backs carefully through the bar, guiding her end of the tree. “Left. No, your other left,” she points to the corner near the window. The last rays of sunlight stream through the frosted glass, catching the snowflakes in her hair like diamonds. Even giving orders, she's adorable.

“There's only one left,” I grunt, but can't hide my smile. The twelve-foot tree weighs nothing compared to the way my heart lifts at her playful tone.

My boots crunch over fallen needles as I prop the tree up where she indicated, my muscles flexing as I ensure it's perfectly straight. The ancient floorboards creak beneath the tree stand. When I turn, Eden's already discovered the boxes of decorations I'd stashed behind the bar.

Her eyes light up. “Jack Harrison, have you been holding out on me?” She pulls out strands of twinkling lights and shimmering ornaments. “Someone's got a secret festive side.”

I shrug, aiming for gruff but probably failing. “It's good for business.” I flip on the old jukebox, and Bing Crosby's voice fills the quiet bar. But the truth is, seeing her excitement makes me want to deck every damn hall in the place.

“Red and gold on this side, silver on that side.” Her fingers dance through the tissue paper with practiced grace. She's perched on one of the barstools, surrounded by boxes. “We've got exactly one hour and forty-seven minutes before we need to leave for dinner.”

I lean against the bar, working on the tangled mess of lights while Eden sorts ornaments with military precision across three tables. She's created a system - gold, red, silver, each size perfectly aligned. I catch myself watching her more than the lights in my hands.

She bites her lip, humming along to “White Christmas” while she works, completely lost in her task. Something settles deep in my chest watching her move through my bar like she's always been here.

My hands still on the lights. I've spent years building this place, making it exactly what I wanted, but now I realize it was missing something. Missing her.

It feels like the most natural thing in the world, but I know better than to rush. Eden spooks easy - I've seen how quickly she can throw those walls back up. For now, I'll take these quiet moments, watching her make my world brighter without even trying.

“You're staring,” she says without looking up from her ornament sorting.

“Admiring your technique.” My voice comes out rougher than intended.

“Less admiring, more untangling,” she teases, reaching deep into a box of decorations. “Those lights won't hang themselves.”

When we finish, Eden circles the tree with tinsel draped across her arms. The silver strands catch in her sweater as she moves. She moves through my bar like she owns it, and my possessive instincts purr in approval.

Eden steps back from the tree, tinsel draped over her arms. Her gaze sweeps the bar, taking in every detail as she slowly turns in place.

“Jack?” She turns to me. “Have you ever considered having live music here?”

“Never really thought about it. Why?”

“Because...” She walks to the far corner, gesturing with one tinsel-wrapped hand. “If you moved these tables, you'd have the perfect spot for a small stage. You could draw crowds from all over the county, beyond the locals.”

My chest tightens. She's talking about my bar like she sees its potential. Like she sees me. Every suggestion she makes, every minute she spends here, only confirms what I already know - she belongs here. With me.

“Maybe even—” She stops mid-sentence, her hands dropping. The tinsel slips from her fingers, pooling at her feet. “Sorry. Got carried away there. I've got that spring collection deadline when I get back to work.”

The warmth seems to drain from the room. The reminder of her leaving feels like a knife to the gut. My fingers close around the mistletoe in my pocket as I watch her retreat behind her professional facade. Outside, snow begins to fall again, thick flakes visible in the glow of the street lights. Not this time. I won't let her run from this - from us.

We work in comfortable silence, wrapping lights around the tree. Eden balances on the stepladder while I hand her each strand. Our fingers brush with each pass, sending electricity through my skin. When she stretches up to adjust a wayward branch, her sweater rides up, revealing a strip of skin that makes me forget how to breathe.

“I'll get the top,” I say, climbing onto the bar. The ancient wood creaks beneath my boots as I reach up to fix the highest strands. While Eden's focused on arranging ornaments below, I pull the mistletoe from my pocket. My fingers work quickly, securing it to the beam overhead where she won't notice - not yet. Each twist of wire feels like a promise, a silent plea for her to see what we could build together.

“Ready?” Eden steps back from the ladder, her finger hovering over the switch.

The lights flicker to life. Eden gasps, spinning slowly to take in the transformation. The tree sparkles, casting dancing shadows on the walls. She's never looked more beautiful.

“It's perfect,” she whispers.

“Come here.” “Come here.” I reach for her elbow, drawing her beneath the mistletoe. “One more tradition.”

Her gaze drifts to the mistletoe above us. The Christmas lights cast shadows across her face, highlighting the sprinkle of freckles across her nose.

“Sneaky,” she whispers, but doesn't pull away. The hint of a smile plays at the corners of her mouth, making my heart slam against my ribs.

“No more sneaking.” I keep my hand on her elbow, feeling her pulse race beneath my fingers. “I'm done pretending.”

“Pretending what?” Her voice is soft, almost challenging.

“That I don't need you.” I trace the curve of her cheekbone. “This place wasn't home until you walked in. Nothing was.” The truth of it hits me hard - how empty everything felt before her.

I slide my hand into her hair, tilting her face. When our lips meet, everything else fades away. The kiss is soft at first, tender, full of everything I've been holding back.

When we finally break apart, she stays close, her forehead resting against my chest. “I have to go back to the city after New Year's,” she whispers. “My whole life is there - my work, my apartment, everything.” But the way she clings to me tells a different story.

“Then we'll figure it out.” I tilt her chin, watching emotions war across her face. Hope, fear, desire - all of it naked in her expression. “I'm not asking you to give up your dreams, Eden. I'm asking you to let me be part of them.” My thumb traces the curve of her jaw. “Let me be the person you come home to.”

Her fingers trace patterns on my chest, right over my racing heart. “What if we mess this up? What if—” Her voice catches. “I've never wanted anything this much. It terrifies me.”

“What if we don't?” I brush my thumb across her bottom lip, still swollen from our kiss. “What if this is exactly where we're supposed to be?” The Christmas lights reflect in unshed tears in her eyes, making them shimmer. “What if everything in our lives - every choice, every mistake, every wrong turn - was leading us right here?”

“Silent Night” plays softly in the background, and Eden's fingers tighten in my shirt. In this moment, with snow falling outside and Christmas lights twinkling around us, everything feels possible.

“You're mine, Eden.” The words come from somewhere primal and possessive. I brush my thumb across her lip, feeling her shiver. “I've been waiting my whole life to find you. And now I'm never letting you go.”

Her hands slide up my chest to curl around my neck, pulling me closer like she needs me as much as I need her.

“I love you.” The words rush out, raw and honest. “I've known since that first night. And I'll fight whatever I have to - your job, this town, our parents - to keep you.”

She makes a small, broken sound that tears at my heart. “Say it again,” she whispers, her voice trembling.

“I love you.” I pull her closer, breathing her in. “With everything I am.”

“I love you too.” Her fingers trace my jaw, memorizing me. “God help me, but I do. I've been fighting it since that first night.”

The confession breaks something loose in both of us. When our lips meet again, it's all fire. She arches into me, a soft sound escaping her throat that sets my blood burning.

I back her against the bar, deepening the kiss. Eden arches into me, a soft sound escaping her throat that sets my blood on fire. My hands slide down her sides, gripping her hips, anchoring us both.

Her teeth graze my lower lip. “We're supposed to meet them for dinner in twenty minutes.”

“Plenty of time.” I back her against the bar, my hands sliding down her sides. “I need you. Now.”

A groan rumbles in my chest. My fingers tangle in her hair, tilting her head back to trail kisses down her throat, claiming every inch of her.

“The door?—”

“Is locked. And only two people have the key.” I trail kisses down her throat, feeling her pulse race beneath my lips. “But we'll have to be quick.” My hands slide under her sweater, finding bare skin. “And quiet.”

She shivers, her head falling back. “The tree isn't even finished—” Her protest dies as my mouth finds her throat.

“The star can wait.” I tug the soft material of her sweater aside to kiss her shoulder. “You can't.”

“So sure of yourself.” But her breath catches as my hands slide higher. “What happened to taking things slow?”

“Went out the window the moment you said you loved me.” I capture her mouth again, drowning in the taste of her. Everything narrows to this - Eden's warmth pressed against me, her desperate sounds, the way she moves against me like she can't get close enough.

Her laugh is breathy, desperate. “I might have had that in mind.” She rocks against me, making me groan. “But dinner's in twenty minutes...”

“Then we better make them count.” I capture her mouth again, drowning in the taste of her. “Every. Single. One.”

The bar door suddenly swings open with a rush of arctic air, shattering our bubble of warmth.

Eden startles, but I keep my hands firmly on her waist, refusing to let her step away. This isn't something we need to hide.

Our parents stand frozen in the doorway, takeout bags dangling from their hands, while multicolored lights dance across their shocked faces.

Caterina's eyes dart between us, her mouth forming a small 'o' of surprise. Robert stands like a statue beside her, his jaw clenched. The paper takeout bags crinkle in his white-knuckled grip, the only sound besides “Silver Bells” playing softly in the background.

Silence stretches between us, broken only by Christmas music playing softly from the bar speakers. Eden's fingers dig into my shirt, but she doesn't pull away.

Eden tenses against me, but her voice comes out steady. “Mom. Robert. We were just finishing the tree.”

“Among other things,” Robert mutters, but I catch the hint of a smile beneath his beard.

“Actually...” I squeeze Eden's waist gently. This is my moment to take control, to show her I meant every word. “We have something to tell you.”

“Jack—” Eden's warning comes out breathless as she smooths her sweater. I shift slightly, shielding her from view while she composes herself, relief flooding my system that we weren't caught in an even more compromising position against the bar.

“Eden and I are together.” I run a quick hand through my mussed hair and meet my father's eyes, then Caterina's. “It's not temporary, nor is it casual.”

The takeout bags crinkle as Caterina shifts her weight. For a long moment, the only sound is Christmas music playing softly from the bar speakers.

“I love him too.” Eden’s voice shakes but holds steady. “I know it seems sudden but it won’t complicate things with the wedding.”

“We should have told you sooner,” I admit. “But we needed time to figure things out.”

The silence stretches. Dad shifts his weight, crossing his arms.

Caterina looks at Robert, her eyebrows raised in question. “Robert?” Her voice wavers. “What do you think?”

My father studies us for a long moment. I recognize the look—he gets it when he's assessing a difficult renovation project, weighing all the angles.

“The tree looks good,” he says finally.

“Robert!” Caterina swats his arm.

“What?” He shrugs, but I catch the hint of a smile beneath his beard. “Look at them, Cat.”

Caterina's face breaks into a knowing grin. “It's about time you two figured it out.”

“What?” Eden's shock vibrates through her whole body.

“You're not exactly subtle, son. The way you two look at each other across the dinner table...” Robert chuckles, moving to set the bags on the bar. “You've got good judgment, son. Always have.”

My chest tightens at those words. Hearing that validation hits deep.

“Told you,” I whisper in Eden's ear, earning an elbow to my ribs.

“You're... okay with this?” Eden asks carefully, her hand finding mine.

Caterina waves dismissively, already pulling containers from the bags. “Honey, the way that boy looks at you? Like you hung the moon and stars? That's all any mother wants for her daughter.”

The tension drains from Eden's shoulders. I press a kiss to her temple, not caring that our parents are watching. She's mine now, officially. No more hiding.

“Let's eat before everything gets cold,” Caterina says, already unpacking containers. The familiar scent of General Tso's and fried rice fills the air.

Eden moves to help, but I catch her wrist. “Stay.”

The casual touch feels different now - allowed, acknowledged. She settles back beside me, her thigh pressed against mine.

“Jack, there's extra duck sauce in here somewhere...” Dad rummages through the takeout bags, his movements more relaxed.

“Found it,” Dad says, tossing me the sauce packets. Just like that, we're back to normal. Better than normal.

Dinner passes in a blur of conversation and laughter. The evening has settled into something comfortable, like we've been doing family dinners for years.

Eden catches my eye, that little half-smile playing at her lips. She's relaxed now, nothing like the tense woman from earlier. The way she fits here, laughing with our parents, sharing stories - it feels right.

My father's approval shows in small ways - passing dishes, asking Eden's opinion, including her naturally. The familiar routine of setting up feels different now - lighter somehow. Like we can breathe again.

“Robert, we should get going. Early meeting tomorrow.”

“Need help closing up?” Robert asks, but his eyes drift to the stairs leading to my apartment.

“We're good. I've got some inventory to finish,” I say, keeping my tone neutral. Eden's hand finds mine under the bar.

“Don't stay up too late doing inventory,” Caterina says with a knowing smile.

She hugs Eden, whispering something that makes Eden blush. Then she's hugging me too, her perfume wrapping around us like a cloud.

Caterina pauses at the door, her eyes soft in the Christmas lights. “The tree looks beautiful, honey. And that mistletoe placement?” She winks. “Very strategic. You two make a good team.”

Eden rolls her eyes but accepts another quick hug from her mother. “Night, Mom. Robert.”

Robert nods, a ghost of a smile under his beard.

We watch them leave, closing the door as cold air rushes in. Eden leans against me, tension draining from her shoulders.

“Well,” she says, “that went better than expected.”

“Could've been worse.” I start wiping down tables. “If they had walked in ten minutes later, they would've found you with your pants around your ankles and your panties stuffed in your mouth.”

I meet her eyes, not even trying to hide my satisfied smirk as I watch her reaction to my comment.

Eden throws a fortune cookie at my head. I catch it one-handed, crack it open.

“What's it say?” she asks.

I read the tiny slip of paper, looking up to meet her eyes. “Love makes a house a home.”

Eden's eyes darken. “Take me home.” Her gaze flicks to the stairs leading to my apartment above the bar.

“Stay with me tonight,” I murmur, pulling her close. “Let me show you where you belong.”

She nods once, desire and trust mingling in her expression.

I take her hand, leading her toward the stairs. Each step feels like destiny - like everything in my life has led to this moment, this woman.

Tomorrow we'll face reality - her job, our families, the distance between her world and mine. But tonight...

Tonight she's mine.