Flown in for Christmas

Fourteen.

Joy

I wake up to Nick slipping out of bed at six in the morning to head to the hospital. He tells me to go back to sleep, but of course, I can’t. His hot body—hot to the touch and on the eyes—isn’t here to keep me warm. My boss has been my personal heater for the last two nights and I’m slowly becoming obsessed.

We cuddled the entire night. Him, holding me in his strong, sure embrace…keeping me warm . Maybe the more I tell myself it was his ‘body heat’ that had me so, ahem, damp between my thighs this morning, rather than his hard cock pressing into my backside and the memory of his tongue dancing circles around my clit, I’ll start to believe it.

Fat chance, sister .

I sigh. Last night was…unexpected. After the way the night ended, the last thing I could have anticipated was having Nick Davis between my thighs, working me over as if he knew my body better than myself. It certainly felt that way.

Between his hands and mouth and his thick, hard—

“What do you think of this one?” Natalie asks, holding up an emerald sequin gown that’s longer than I am tall, and popping my blissful memory bubble.

We’re out shopping this morning at the mall. A certifiable nightmare the day before Christmas Eve—especially for anyone who doesn’t like large crowds. I don’t usually mind them, but this… This is insanity.

When Nick returned this morning with his parents, I thought we’d spend the day together doing, I don’t know, something else? I certainly wasn’t planning on going shopping. Or having to wait another hour for Tucker and Izzy to sit with Santa.

I had no idea parents could schedule that sort of thing online now.

Nick, however, isn’t here and neither are his parents like they’d originally planned. Bruce is on ‘house arrest,’ as he so lovingly called it. He got a bit too much cold, dry air in his lungs yesterday, according to the doctor. He wasn’t getting enough oxygen due to a bit of a fluid buildup in his lungs—made weaker by the chemotherapy he is on. The doctor said he was free to go home and rest. They made a follow-up next week and all seemed back on track. But I could tell, Nick wasn’t thrilled with the idea of leaving him.

He told me I didn’t have to go, but I didn’t want to intrude more. I’d rather he get some quality time in with his father. So here I am, trying to find a dress for tomorrow’s big ‘Davis Christmas Eve’ party with Natalie, Martina, the kids, and…Darcy.

“Um…” I stare at the gown. It’s gorgeous, don’t get me wrong, but I’d have to wear nine-inch heels to even think of walking in it.

“Too long?” Natalie asks, holding it up to my chin. “Hmm. Gran might be able to hem it for you before the party tomorrow.”

Martina laughs. “Leave the girl alone, Nat. You’ll have plenty of years to play dress up with Izzy.”

“What about this one, Joy?” Darcy holds up what, at first glance, appears to be a tank top, but is a mini cocktail dress—emphasis on mini —with so much cleavage there’s no way I wouldn’t have a nip slip under the mistletoe.

A forced huff of laughter escapes me. “Well, uh, it’s not really…”

“Nick is a breast man,” she adds, leaning in. “He’d go wild for a dress like this.” She winks. “Ask me how I know.”

My cheeks flame despite my shock. He is? I mean, I’m no expert on the man, but this doesn’t look like something he would go ‘wild’ over. And he seemed a bit more interested in other parts of my body last night than my breasts.

“Annnd that knowledge just ruined my day,” Natalie comments, returning the long dress to the rack with a shudder. Martina snorts with laughter, muttering something in Spanish to her wife that leaves her in a fit of giggles.

“Mommy, is it our turn to see Santa yet?” Tucker asks, coming in with the save of the century as he tugs at the bottom of Natalie’s coat.

She checks her phone. “Oh, actually. We should probably start heading that way.” Her gaze finds mine. “Did you want to come back or try another spot afterward, Joy?”

“Sure,” I say. Anything to get out of this store and away from the direction this conversation is leading.

“Who knows, maybe we’ll see something in a window on the way,” she adds, pushing Izzy, asleep in her stroller, toward the exit.

It’s not long before we find the line for pictures with Santa. They’re running behind, of course, so we wait. Darcy stands silent beside me and I can feel her eyes on me. Subtle, but there. And boy, is it awkward. Though, it doesn’t need to be, does it? She’s not my enemy. She and Nick were broken up long before I (fake) came into the picture. And certainly, long enough before she started dating his cousin.

“Nick and I bought some fudge yesterday,” I say to my fake fiancé’s ex-girlfriend. Say that ten times fast . I smile as her gaze flicks to me. “I picked out this amazing white chocolate raspberry and Nick got this silly named—What was it called? Oh! Buckeye. We got it from this sweet old couple who—”

“I don’t eat fudge,” she quips, chipper to a fault.

I quickly recall what Nick said about her. Everything about Darcy is a facade . I mean, who doesn’t eat fudge? I opt for a different angle. “So, do you skate regularly, Darcy?” I ask. “You seemed like a real natural yesterday.”

“Every year,” she sing-songs, her gaze drifting to the jewelry shop window on my left. “I figure skated in high school and college for a time.”

Tall, pretty, blue-eyed, blonde figure skater. Little Miss Perfect, one might call her , I shake off the bitter thought. No sense in being catty. Nick made it perfectly clear why they broke up and why he wants nothing to do with her.

“Nicky and I would go to the iceplex in Houston,” she adds breezily as if it’s no big deal to talk about their past relationship with me—his fiancée.

I intentionally ignore the ‘fake’ portion of the title.

“And what about you and Eric?” I redirect. “I didn’t see him out on the ice. Although, I was a bit busy trying not to fall.” Insert innocent laugh .

I watch her response.

Her cheeks and jaw tighten and her head ticks ever so slightly to the right. “Oh, it’s not his sport. Eric’s big into football.”

I smile and nod, deciding to press further. “How did you two meet? I thought you and Nick were broken up before his uncle passed.”

“Oh, we were together. And thank goodness we were,” she says, her voice changing to fill with sorrow. She places a hand over her heart for dramatic flair. “My poor Nicky. I had to help him clean out his uncle’s cabin, you know. He was so distraught that day going through his things. He was lucky I was there to console him in his grief.”

Huh.

Tucker grasps my hand in his tiny one. “We’re next, Auntie Joy!” he hoots, and I instantly melt. He hops up and down with excitement, telling me all about his plans to ask Santa for a skateboard and a pogo stick. I laugh when Martina makes a slicing motion over the idea of him asking for a pogo stick.

Darcy and I stand off to the side while they get their family photo taken. Izzy wails her little head off when Natalie hands her to Santa for a picture. I take a few candid shots of the chaotic moment on my phone when a notification pings.

It’s an email from the airport about my luggage. I gasp. “They found it.”

Darcy raises a brow.

I shake my head, beaming. “I lost my bag between Dallas and LA, but the airline found it. Finally.” I skim the rest of the email. “They’ll be dropping it off at the house this afternoon.” I sigh in relief. Not only from getting my luggage back, but the clothes inside—including a few options that would work perfectly for tomorrow’s party.

Maybe even something worth Nick going ‘wild’ over.