Flown in for Christmas

Fifteen.

Nick

I hand my father a glass of orange juice and set a bottle of water on the end table beside him. “Did you want anything else?” I ask. “Mom and Aunt Sara are putting together some fruit and cheese trays for tomorrow.”

He sips his juice with a huff. “If I’d known being old and frail would get this kind of treatment, I would’ve aged faster,” he grumbles.

Uncle Allen chuckles from his place on one of the two sofas in the spacious family room.

Their eyes are glued to the football game playing on the wide, eighty-inch flatscreen mounted on the wall. The warm glow from the sixteen-foot Christmas tree causes a glare on the screen from where I sit, but I don’t complain. Getting to spend the day with my dad watching the game and catching up like we used to—even if my uncle is here shouting for defense to get off their asses and Grandpa Frank is passed out cold on the other couch—it’s been fun.

The home team scores another touchdown and my family hoots and hollers at the screen. I can’t help but laugh when Grandpa Frank snores louder—his form of celebration.

“What time will the girls be back?” Dad asks.

“Soon.” Hopefully. I stare at the clock on the wall. 4:17 PM. My sister assured me they’d be back before dinner, but then again, it is the day before Christmas Eve. I can’t imagine the time it took just to find a parking spot.

I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Joy going anywhere that involved Darcy without me, but she assured me she could handle it. Martina also pulled me aside and told me that she’d keep an ‘extra eye’ on the situation, much to my relief.

Rich and Leah join us in the family room a short time later. They’d spent the day visiting friends and doing a bit of running around themselves. We’re in the middle of discussing end-of-the-year details for DSG—quietly, so my father doesn’t hear—when Rich says, “Leah was reading an article last night about airport thieves. I had no idea how common they were this time of year. I’m glad they were able to find Joy’s bag. I bet she’s relieved.”

My brow furrows. “They did? ”

He nods. “We passed the airport van when we pulled in. I figured they must have delivered it.” I didn’t hear anyone knock. Unless someone else got the door. Rich must see my confusion. “We saw them pull out of here.”

Surely Mom would’ve come in and let me know if they’d dropped off Joy’s luggage? If she noticed it, anyhow. I stand and head to the front door. I scan the foyer and walk outside to check the front steps, but I come up empty. I try the kitchen where my mother and aunt assure me they didn’t see any deliveries come in.

I’m walking back to the family room when I hear a pull of a zipper and a muttered, “ Shit ,” from the dining room off the entryway. I round the corner in time to witness Eric attempting to open a piece of luggage with a purple ribbon tied to the handle.

Joy’s luggage.

“Hey,” I bark, striding to him with a clenched fist. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

He straightens, letting the bag tip over onto its side. His expression goes from caught to snake-like in an instant. “What the hell do you care, cousin ?” he says, the last word said with a hiss of hatred.

I scowl at him as I reach for the bag.

He kicks it out of my grasp like the fucking child he is.

I’m in his face a split second later.

He’s roughly five inches shorter than me, so I make it a point to stare down my nose at the slimeball. “Touch my wife’s things again and I’ll make sure you never see a fucking dime of inheritance, Eric ,” I sneer.

Eric’s chest puffs up and he cocks a crooked grin. “Wife, huh?” His laugh is bitter and forced. “Far as I can tell she’s just some actress playing the part of a doting whore .”

My fist rears back before my mind has time to process the action.

I’m blinded by rage as my knuckles connect with his jaw. All the pent-up anger I’ve been holding onto for months exploding in a single hit. His body falls to the ground with a weighted thud and crash as he takes one of the dining chairs with him.

“Nick!” my mother screams from the open archway. She tugs me away from my cousin holding his bloodied face, groaning on the floor. Rich and Uncle Allen come rushing into the room.

I take a step back, running a hand through my hair at the scene. “Fuck.”

“What the hell is going on in here?” Dad shouts, shuffling into frame.

I stare at him. He pushed me too far . He insulted Joy . He was going through her bag like some fucking pervert , I want to tell him. But I don’t. His disappointment radiates from across the room.

“Go,” he says, pointing to the kitchen with a stern expression, and suddenly I’m a young boy again. The one who broke his mother’s favorite vase because he was throwing a football indoors when he wasn’t supposed to. It was the first and only time I’d ever seen my father look at me this way.

I hate it even more now than I did back then .

When my aunt comes shuffling in with an icepack and first aid kit, I don’t argue. I grab Joy’s bag and head upstairs.

“Nick?”

I sigh, staring at the running faucet in front of me.

“Nick—” Joy rounds the corner into the bathroom and stops when she sees me.

I don’t know what she sees. I can’t even look at myself right now, let alone her. I focus on the blood smeared on my knuckles from a small cut between them. The skin must have broken when my fist made contact.

She’s silent as she closes the door behind her and pads over to me. She takes one of the towels by the sink and wets it. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asks as she gently wipes the blood from the back of my hand.

I wait until she’s done before I say, “I caught him trying to go through your bag.” She leans a hip against the counter, patiently waiting for the rest of the story. She’s not so na?ve to believe that’s all that happened. “There were some…words exchanged before I…”

“Threw the first punch.”

I cringe. “Yeah.”

“What did he say?”

I shake my head, my fist clenching at the memory. “It doesn’t matter. ”

She nods.

“I’m sorry.” I rub both hands over my face and groan. “I didn’t mean to… I don’t know. He just—” I sigh, my hands and shoulders dropping in defeat. “He brings out the worst in me,” I admit, struggling to find the reasons why he does, why I let him get under my skin. “I don’t trust him. I don’t like him. I hate that he’s even here…”

Joy delicately crosses her arms in front of her as she listens to me vent about my cousin until it forms into another rant entirely. Involving my ex. I pace the bathroom until my throat is hoarse and I feel a miniscule amount better than I did before.

“Can I ask you something?” she starts, and I nod. After everything I just spouted off, I wouldn’t mind hearing her thoughts on how I’m handling this. Poorly, I’d venture to guess. “When your uncle died, did Darcy help with anything?”

“She made a few calls in preparation for the funeral.” I shrug. “Mom was too distracted with consoling my father to do it. Then there was the aftermath of hearing his will, cleaning out the house and his hunting cabin.”

Joy nods as I speak, seeming to hang on to my every word.

“Why do you ask?”

She bites her lip. “No reason. I—” She pauses, opens her mouth, then shuts it quickly.

I chuckle despite my current state. “What is it? ”

“Um, could I—I mean, would it be okay if I had my father look into Eric?” She wrings her hands together in a nervous gesture. “Maybe he can—”

“Any other time, I’d probably take you up on the offer.” I don’t know what she believes her father can find that the local investigator I hired couldn’t, but now? It doesn’t feel like the right time to be digging the wound deeper, so to speak.

Or punching it.

“After how today went, I don’t think it would be the best idea.” The disappointment in my father’s gaze flashes in my mind and I sigh. “Not for a while, at least.”

“Of course,” she says, her face falling. “Sorry, I just…want to help is all.”

I close the space between us, my hands resting on her waist. Joy’s eyes peer upward, heavy lashes batting at my heartstrings. “Trust me, you already are,” I say softly, leaning in. She lifts up on the tips of her toes, her arms circling my neck, bringing me in and eagerly meeting me in the middle. And her lips…

Fuck, I missed these lips.

I bend down to hoist her up by her lush ass, placing her on the counter and positioning myself between her legs—never once breaking the searing bite of our kiss. She smiles against my lips and I growl low in return.

Joy slides her hands down my chest before pulling away. But I’m not ready to stop. I kiss along her jaw toward that little spot below her ear that made her whimper —

“Nick?”

I kiss her neck. “Hm?”

“Should we…”

“Anything you want,” I groan, inhaling her intoxicating scent.

“…talk about last night?” she finishes, and I pause.

I straighten until our gazes meet. “What about last night?” My heart is in my throat waiting for her response. Does she regret agreeing to stay? Did I cross a line I didn’t know of when I sunk my cock into her tight, hot pussy? Is it me?

Her cheeks are bright pink and she bites her kiss-swollen lower lip. “I thought maybe we should, um, talk and, you know, make sure we’re on the same page before we do…anything else.”

Talk? Relief washes over me.

“You don’t regret it,” I say aloud without meaning to.

Her brow lifts in surprise. “No, no.” She smooths a hand over my bicep. “I don’t regret anything that’s happened between us. I just want to make sure we’re on the same page is all.”

I grin, liking where this is going. “And what page is that?” I bite back the urge to call her angel and further give away where I stand. She’s smart, though. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out I’m falling for her faster than I thought possible.

She shrugs, coyly toying with the bottom hem of my T-shirt.

I chuckle. “I like you, too.”

Her beaming smile before her lips return to mine is enough to cure any doubt I had a moment ago. We make out like a couple of teenagers until she stops me as I start to play with the waistband of her leggings. Her cool fingers wrap around my wrist and she breaks the kiss. “We can’t.”

At my exaggerated pout, she says, “I was sent up here to fetch you for dinner, not be your dinner.”

I bark out a laugh. “And what if I’d rather have you?” I kiss her softly, tasting her with a slow glide of my tongue over hers. “I’d choose you over any meal, angel.”

She smiles, her cheeks flush a light shade of pink as she playfully pushes me away to slide off the counter. I grunt disapprovingly and she laughs, taking my hand. “We can play pretend later, fiancé .”

Joy tugs me along and I follow her willingly, a scowl on my face.

I’m not pretending anymore.

And it’s about time she sees that.