Chapter 29
Marlie had no idea what Damon had said to her father, but her dad had watched Damon with amusement and a hint of caution for the rest of the night. Even through coffee afterward.
Damon had said little but that he loved her family, even her clingy brothers, who demanded stories of his time on the ice with legendary players she couldn’t care less about. Oddly, her mother had asked some hockey questions that proved she’d done some research of her own into Damon.
Not sure if that was good or bad, Marlie soon forgot everything since Damon took her home and screwed her brains out. Then they played with the kittens before indulging in another holiday scary movie.
Friday evening, as she coached her girls into another victory, she appreciated her mother and father watching the game, though she missed Damon. He had intended to come but instead had to cancel due to a dinner with his parents and some emergencies they couldn’t handle without him.
Not exactly what he’d said, but calling his mother overly dramatic and his father an asshat didn’t seem in the holiday spirit.
She joined her parents after the game.
“Great job, honey.” Her dad hugged her.
Her mom tugged her free and hugged her as well. “Where’s the big lug?”
Marlie sighed. “We’re not joined at the hip, Mom.” She didn’t understand the look her parents shared, but her mother waited, expecting an answer. “He had to help his parents out. He wanted to come though.”
Her mom warmed. “Oh, that’s sweet. They were in a car accident, he said?”
“Yeah.” Her mother knew darn well about Damon’s parents. “His dad broke his leg and his mom her arm, I think. His sister can’t come help because she’s on active duty in California. I met Grace on Sunday at the game. She’s pretty funny. Nearly as tall as Damon too.”
“Well, at least you’ll have tall children.”
Marlie blinked. “Mom?”
Her father put a hand over her mother’s mouth. “Ignore her, Marlie.”
“Mmmpphh.” Her mom tried but couldn’t budge Irv’s hand, which made Marlie laugh.
“We just wanted to watch you girls win. Nice job. Oh, and make sure to invite Damon to our holiday party on the 23rd. His parents too.”
“Um, I guess.”
Mona finally ripped her husband’s hand away, glaring at him, and added, “Don’t guess. Do it.”
“Yes, ma’am!” Marlie whipped out a salute.
Her mother grunted and tugged Irv with her toward the exit.
Bemused that her parents seemed a little too interested in Damon, she glanced at her phone to see a few texts she’d missed. One from Jeff and two from Damon.
To Jeff she sent:
We won, sucker. See you this weekend.
To Damon, she ignored the Xs and Os but answered his question about the game.
Yes, we won. 42-36.
Yes! Awesome!
He added a few gifs of champions and victories, including one of himself holding onto the Stanley Cup.
Braggart.
An eggplant emoji followed.
She snickered.
He asked,
You busy tomorrow?
No, why?
I would ask you when you get home, but my parents want to meet you and insisted I invite you now.
Huh?
You’re invited to come over to my folks’ place tomorrow to help us decorate for Christmas.
He added a Christmas tree emoji.
Really?
That sounded sweet.
Are you okay with that?
Why would I ask you if I wasn’t? Did you hit your head or something? Get beaned in the brain with (emoji basketball)?
Tired of texting, she called him. “You want me to meet your parents?”
“They want to meet you. Hey, I met your parents. Even got grilled by your whole family. My parents are crumpled, feeble old people.” Someone yelled in the background. “If you decide to run, they can’t tackle you to keep you there. Plus, none of them can throw you in jail.”
“What? Jail?” a deep voice boomed on the phone that didn’t belong to Damon.
“Christ,” Damon grumbled.
She couldn’t help laughing. “Sure, I’d love to meet your parents tomorrow. What time?”
“Hold on. What time, Mom?” After a pause, he said, “How does noon sound, Marlie? That’ll give the old people time to get up and get dressed.”
She heard more muffled words.
“I’m kidding. They’re always up at the crack of dawn. Like crepuscular predators, they do their best work between daylight and daybreak.”
“Didn’t we hear that last night during the movie when the scientist was talking about blood-sucking elves?”
“Well, yeah. But it also applies to my parents. Oof. Gotta go. See you soon, snookums.” He hung up.
She went home with a smile, feeling like a victor on two fronts. On the court and off.
The next afternoon, Damon drove them to his parents. Marlie couldn’t help feeling nervous. She wanted them to like her more than she should. What did it really matter though?
He parked, and they got out. The house was lovely, a rustic home on some land, located on the outskirts of town.
“I bet when it snows it looks like a postcard.” The large pines and junipers around the property gave it privacy while also planting them in what felt like the middle of a Hallmark movie set.
“Yeah. It’s also a bitch to shovel the drive. My dad has a mini plow.”
They walked together toward the front door, the wind whipping their hair around.
“You look nervous.” Damon took her hand in his. “You should be.”
“Shut up.”
He chuckled. “I mean, you need to be good enough to marry Demon Sinclair, league MVP.”
“Marry? A little ahead of ourselves, aren’t we?” Her heart raced.
He’d been doing that lately, joking about them having a future. She didn’t call him on it exactly, because in a weird way, she liked the thought of him sticking around.
Marlie liked Damon as a person. A lot. The sex notwithstanding—and holy crap, was he amazing in bed—the guy made her laugh. She enjoyed spending time with him. And yes, they barely knew each other.
Except she felt like she knew him well. She could tell when he liked something just by the way his eyes crinkled, or the way his lips curled in that half-smirk. Or when he grew annoyed, he’d go silent.
They’d had their first real argument last night.
A mini fight because she didn’t like him spending so much money on her.
He kept buying their food, which had to cost a bundle because he kept getting it from the places she loved.
The ones she went out to on special occasions, not all the time because they cost a ton.
Her stalker had gotten offended because it was his money to spend any way he liked, and he liked her.
She still got warm fuzzies when she thought of how he’d made her concede his victory, with her legs over his shoulders while he brought her to orgasm with that talented mouth.
He saw her looking at his lips and smirked. “Remembering last night?”
“Oh, you giant ass—”
He interrupted her tirade with a kiss…
…that his father interrupted when he opened the front door. The lumbering older man, as tall as Damon, looked just like his son. Same dark good looks, same icy eyes, same smug smile. “Well, now. This must be Marlie.”
Damon pulled away and clutched Marlie under an arm, as if afraid she’d bolt. “Dad, meet Marlie. Marlie, Big Mike.”
The guy pried Marlie away and slowly walked her into the house, his lower leg in a cast, a boot on his foot. “Pleasure to meet you, Marlie.” He surprised her with a gentle side hug before introducing her to his normal-sized wife, who looked petite next to her husband.
“Marlie, this is Leila, my lovely bride of thirty-odd years.”
Leila Sinclair was a beautiful older woman with long brown hair and bright blue eyes.
Her smooth skin, marred only by slight laugh lines around her eyes, made her look years younger than her late fifties.
Her arm sat in a sling, and she appeared frail, dressed in oversized sweats embroidered with multicolored Christmas lights.
Inside the home, a fire crackled. A tree had been stationed in a corner of the living room. Soft holiday music played, giving the room a festive atmosphere.
Leila smiled kindly at Marlie, studying her and smiling wider with each second that passed. “Marlie Reynolds? I think I know your mother.”
“I’m sorry,” Marlie blurted and blushed.
Leila laughed.
“I meant, oh, that’s great.”
Leila motioned for Marlie to join her in the kitchen.
“Dad, sit down before you trip yourself and I have to haul your big ass to the doctor’s. Again,” Damon growled.
“Watch it, boy.” More growling back and forth, but a glance over her shoulder showed Damon helping his father settle in the recliner near the fire.
She turned back to see Leila smiling.
“I’m so glad to meet you, Marlie. I’ve heard nothing but good things.”
“Really?” What had Damon told his parents?
“Oh yes. Would you like some hot cider?”
“Please. Can I help?”
“Thank you. The cups are up there.”
Marlie fetched a few cups and poured cider for them all. Then she grabbed a tray set with cookies and put everything together, carrying the tray to the living room.
“Damon, did you get all the boxes I told you to grab from the attic yesterday?” Leila asked.
“Yes, Mom.” He took the tray from Marlie and set it on the coffee table. “Mom, sit down. Marlie and I will help. You tell us what to do.”
“She likes to do that,” his dad said.
Marlie chuckled. “My mom does the same thing at my house.”
“I live to serve.” Big Mike winked.
“I like the way you think.”
“Don’t get any ideas,” Damon warned, but he couldn’t hide a grin.
“Ha. I bet if I tried, I could wrap you around my little finger.”
“Oh, I do like you, Marlie.” Leila sipped from her mug. “Never take my boy’s attitude.”
“What attitude? I’m a nice guy.” Damon glanced at Marlie and rolled his eyes.
She bit back a laugh.
“I saw that.”
“You did not.” Damon flushed. “Woman sees and hears everything, even from two rooms away,” he mock confided to Marlie. “It was hell growing up here. Especially because Grace is just like her.”
“Please. That girl is like the old man,” Leila said with a huff.
“I met her. She’s no slouch,” Marlie admitted. She studied his parents, seeing the humor and love abundant in their family. “I’m not sure yet. But I’m thinking she gets her attitude from both of you.”
Damon huffed. “Major Reynolds is a major pain.”
“I’m telling her you said that,” his dad said.
“Please don’t. She scares me.”
“Me too,” Big Mike admitted.
Leila and Marlie laughed. And Marlie settled next to Damon, content and more than comfortable when he held her hand. When his parents noticed the hand holding, they smiled even wider.
They spent the next few hours decorating the tree with ornaments Grace and Damon had made as children. Then they fitted out the living room to look like Santa’s workshop. Unlike Marlie’s mother’s lean toward modern décor, the Sinclairs preferred traditional decorations.
Marlie had a blast dancing with Damon to old Christmas tunes when not trimming the tree and helping Leila move things around.
The older couple made her laugh with stories of Damon being naughty during his younger years, as well as the pranks his older sister consistently pulled on him and his friends.
But it was the love she felt from the pair that showed her why she liked Damon so much. Mike and Leila treated each other with respect and affection, not afraid to argue but also not afraid to kiss or hold hands.
Damon grumbled a lot, but he also treated his parents with love and admiration.
Marlie thought their dynamic resembled the one she had with her parents. After inviting them to her family’s Christmas party and departing with hugs, she told Damon so.
“Yeah. Your family is a lot like mine,” he said on the way back to her place. “It’s like, there’s a lot of love and a lot of bossy maternal figures that somehow get you to do or say things you don’t mean to. But you do what they want anyway because you love them.”
“That’s probably why I felt so comfortable at your house. Plus, I think I might have a crush on your dad.”
Big Mike had pulled her aside while Damon was occupied with his mother.
“Marlie, just remember. The boy might look like a monster, but he’s got a tender heart. Go easy on him when he steps on his own dick. Because he will. Don’t ask me how I know.”
She had laughed and agreed to be gentle, wondering just how sensitive Damon really was. Thus far with her, he’d been funny, sarcastic, and sexy as all get-out. Then she remembered him looking into her eyes, telling her how beautiful she was while he held her face gently.
“I don’t know if I like you having a thing for my dad.” Damon glared at her.
She grinned. “It’s only because he looks like you.”
He shrugged. “Well, I guess that’s okay. I don’t know. You might have to make it up to me while naked and bent over the couch.”
“Again?”
“But this time, scream my name like you really mean it.”
“Well, if I have to…”