Wild Christmas (Wild Heart Mountain: Wild Rider’s MC #17)

2. Nate

2

NATE

I slide the graphics card into the back of the PC, and it falls into place with a satisfying click. I pick up the back panel and hold it in place. The tiny screws are delicate, and I take one in my hand.

“Why aren’t you working in your office?” I glance up to find Maisie staring up at me, her brown eyes round and curious.

I can’t tell her it’s because I have an unexplainable need to be in the same room as the new nanny. “Hold this in place while I screw it in.”

She climbs onto the dining room chair and kneels so she can reach the panel. Her tongue pokes out in concentration as she holds the panel in place, allowing me to clip one of the tiny screws to my magnetic screwdriver. I turn the screw in place and move onto the next one.

At the other end of the table Freya hunches over colorful cardboard, talking softly to Dora as they glue pieces of fabric onto the card .

“We’re making Christmas cards,” Maisie informs me.

“Maisie,” Dora whines, “it’s supposed to be a surprise.”

The scowl on her face is as good as any of mine. She looks like she wants to hit her sister, and the last thing I want is for my girls to show their true colors on Freya’s second day here.

“I can’t see the cards from here. Are you making one for Danni?”

The scowl fades as she scrambles to find a new piece of cardboard.

My girls fight like cats when they get each other going, and I don’t want Freya to see that side of them too soon or she might leave. And I desperately don’t want her to leave.

From behind the PC I watch her; I’ve been watching her all day. She’s wearing leggings and an oversized sweater that hides the full curvy figure she’s got hiding under there. I know, because I saw her in a swimsuit in photos online, her arms crossed over her body shyly, a sarong covering her thighs.

I poured over her photos longer than a prospective employer should have, but they’re in the public domain. It made me wonder who else is looking, and that thought angers me. I’ll need to speak to her about what she puts online. But if I bring that up now, after only knowing her two days she’ll think I’m creepy.

Instead I’ve been watching her move around my house, confident in the new space, humming Christmas songs although it’s only November and tapping her feet when she thinks no one’s looking .

From the moment I set eyes on Freya, smiling out of every single photo she’s put online, I knew I had to have her here, in my house, bringing that good energy to the girls.

But it’s more than that, a nagging voice whispers. I shake the voice out of my head and concentrate on the PC.

Dora finishes up her card and skips off to wash the glue off her hand. I only hope the girls told Freya about the no glitter rule.

Freya stretches, and I try really hard not to notice the way her sweater creeps up her body when she stretches her arms over her head. I finish up what I’m doing and slip the flashlight off my head.

“Do you always work with one of those on?” She smiles at me, and my chest squeezes a little. This woman is beautiful when she smiles.

“Sometimes, when I need to see what I’m doing.”

Her smile widens like I’ve made a joke, only I get the feeling that I am the joke.

Freya puts the finished cards to one side of the table and starts tidying up the crafts.

“Girls, come help tidy up,” I call to the girls. They scamper down the hall and come to help without fighting about it which is unusual. They must want Freya to stay as much as I do.

“When do you put your Christmas decorations up?” Freya asks.

“We just have a tree,” Dora says mournfully. “A fake one. ”

Freya pauses as she slides the colorful paper together and looks up at me. “You don’t like real trees?”

“They drop too many needles.” She frowns at me like I’m weird. “Clogs up the vacuum,” I explain.

Freya tilts her head and looks at me curiously as if I’m a museum exhibit. “You like to keep things neat, don’t you?”

I shrug. “That’s what ten years in the military does to you.”

She shakes her head and looks down at the bits of crafts on the table. I can’t help it; I like everything in order. Nothing wrong with that.

“Is that why there’s no glitter in the craft box?”

She’s quick. “Correct. It gets everywhere. There’s a glitter ban in this house.”

Her eyes go wide in surprise, but she doesn’t push the issue.

“So you don’t put up any other Christmas decorations? No tinsel, no streamers, no wreath on the door?”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

Freya puts her hands on her hips and stares at me. “I love Christmas.” She smiles, and her face lights up. “I was thinking I could make some streamers with the girls, hang some tinsel, make a signpost for Santa…”

The girls have gone quiet but Freya bubbles along like a stream, moving around the room no doubt imagining where she’d put all these messy decorations.

“You must have stockings to hang over the fireplace?”

The girls shake their heads and Freya turns on me, and I suddenly feel like the worst dad in the world .

“You don’t decorate for Christmas?” She’s genuinely stunned, and I feel like the grinch who stole Christmas.

“It’s messy,” I say lamely.

“You have two little girls; it’s supposed to be messy.”

The girls look at me carefully, no doubt seeing my defenses waver. “Can we decorate this year, Daddy?” Dora clutches my knee, and her eyes are wide are pleading.

“I’ll keep it neat,” says Freya quickly. “No glitter, and we’ll take it all down afterwards.”

“The day after Christmas,” I say firmly.

“On the sixth of January, as is tradition,” Freya says with her hands on her hips.

She’s negotiating with me over Christmas decorations. I like it.

“January first. That’s my final offer.”

“Fine.” She smiles, and I’m glad I’m letting her decorate just to see that smile. The girls jump up and down in excitement and start babbling about every way they’re going to turn my neat living area into a winter wonderland.

I’ve heard enough. I need to drop this PC off with a client, and I’ll work at the club for the rest of the afternoon.

I leave them to their planning, but all I can think about is the glimpse I got of Freya’s tanned stomach when her sweater rode up and what it would feel like to run my hands over her skin.