Chapter Fourteen #2
Harte kissed my stomach. “I feel like I’m twenty again. Horny as fuck every time I see you naked.”
I rose on my elbows. “Well, rein it in for a little bit. I’ll take a shower, and we’ll wrap some gifts and do the laundry. Then I’m gonna take your ass.”
Harte beckoned me. “Let’s go, stud muffin.”
For presents, we got my sister a day at a fancy spa and my mother a necklace from Tiffany’s that Dev assured us was very popular with the mothers of NFL players.
For Shane we got a football and jersey autographed by every member of the Kings, including, of course, Dev and Brody.
Plus, three season tickets for the following year.
Connor got a new bike, a signed football, a pair of hockey skates, and he and Shane were going to get to meet the players on the field at the next Kings home game.
And as a surprise, if the Kings made the playoffs, Harte had gotten us all passes to the Kings’ box.
I’d had no idea what to get Harte, since he could buy whatever he wanted. I’d decided to take photos of us and him alone—while we were out and about, playing in the snow, taking walks in the forest, or at home—and had them printed and framed.
After we finished wrapping, he built up the fire, and we sipped mulled wine and watched the snow falling.
Harte took my hand. “I’m so happy now, I sometimes don’t believe it’s real. Like…maybe it’s just the enchantment of the holiday season, and I’ll wake up alone.”
I kissed his fingers. “No way. Not while I’m here. It may feel like magic, but this is no fairy-tale dream. It’s happening. When I was eighteen and saw you for the first time, I didn’t have the courage to tell you how I felt. I almost made the same mistake again this time.”
Harte held on tight. “Isn’t it weird that I don’t even know where I would be if it wasn’t for that accident?
Probably too afraid to step out of my comfort zone and leave my house.
I wouldn’t have Dev and Brody as good friends, or my new life as a scout for the Kings.
Most important of all, I wouldn’t have you. ”
As we kissed, I heard voices outside from the front of the house. Harte huffed with annoyance as the shouting became more insistent. “Maybe someone is stuck in the snow. I guess we should see and help them if we can.”
We put on our boots, and I followed Harte. He opened the door—and was hit in the face by a snowball.
“Heads-up. There’s no time like now for a snowball fight.”
Dev whooped with laughter when Brody took one in the back of the head from…who the hell was that?
“Trick, you bastard. You’re gonna pay for that,” Brody hollered and scooped up a handful of snow. He threw it at two men, and I recognized Patrick and his husband, Fallon, the latter by his flowing blond hair.
Another snowball came sailing in, and Patrick shouted, “Come on, Harte. The quarterbacks against the others. We’ll cream them.”
Dev stood there with a Santa hat on his head, cackling with laughter. “Glad you’re not naked. Now get your coats on and come outside.”
Harte wiped his face. “Fallon, you are in deep shit, my man.” He grabbed his parka from the coatrack by the door, and I slipped mine on as well. “We’ll pick up where we left off later.”
I made a snowball and popped him in the chest with it. “Oh, I know. We just have to think about a suitable prize for the winner.”
“How about we do our own personal holiday huddle? Just you and me…” Harte leaned in close—and smashed a snowball in my face, then ran.
I took off after him, and after pelting each other and diving into drifts, we called a tie after an hour, as all of us were soaking wet and freezing.
“Come by on Christmas Eve,” Dev yelled as they climbed into their Suburban. “Brody’s mom will be there, and so will Patrick’s parents.”
Fallon tucked his hair under his stocking hat. “Please, Jet. I need someone else besides me who’s not a football player. All this testosterone can be a lot to handle.”
“You liar. You love it.” Patrick swooped him up and carried him off on his shoulder to their SUV. “But come, please. It’s hard to get to know someone when you’re busy trying to pummel them in the face. And I’d like to find out more about the man who made Harte happy.”
Harte’s smile was sweet. “We’ll be there. It’s great to see you again, Patrick.”
After we waved good-bye and closed the door, I stripped out of my clothes. Harte did the same.
“I’ll start the shower.”
When we were under the hot spray, I put my arms around him. “It was Patrick, wasn’t it? The guy on the Kings you had feelings for?”
“Jet, come on.” Pink spots popped up on Harte’s cheeks. “Why does any of it matter now? It was a bad time for me, and I’m sure you’ve had silly crushes that went nowhere. I love you, and I don’t want anyone else. Don’t ever doubt that. I’ve never been as happy as I am right now.”
“I don’t doubt it.” I couldn’t help the pinprick of jealousy, but as Harte kissed my neck, I recognized how damn foolish I was being. Harte was here. With me. We loved each other. Patrick was married. There had never been anything between them.
We dried off, and Harte, with a gleam in his eye, took my hand and led me toward the bed. My phone started ringing, and he smacked the pillow with impatience. “Don’t answer it.”
“I have to. It’s the station and could be important.” When I saw it was Mel Miller, my heart pounded. “Mel. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Jet. Just wanted to give you a heads-up. Gleason is putting in for retirement in March, and I’ll be recommending you for promotion to sergeant.”
My stomach flipped. “What? Me?”
“You took the exam and scored the highest in the county. It’s the next step. It’ll be good for your career.”
“Wow, uh, thanks, Mel. I guess…I dunno. I have to think about it. But thank you for recommending me. I…I’ll see you. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Jet.”
I sank to the bed, unaware that Harte was by my side until he took me by the shoulder. His worried gaze scanned my face.
“Jet? What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I, uh, Gleason’s retiring in March, and Mel wants me for the job of sergeant.”
Harte beamed. “That’s wonderful, isn’t it? A promotion?”
“Yeah, but I’m not sure. It would mean giving up patrol…and Em. Shit. How would I tell him we’re no longer partners? Whether or not he likes to admit it, he’s still shaky after the shooting. I don’t feel right just walking away.”
My head spun from the impact my decision would have on other lives.
Plus, I wasn’t sure I wanted to give up patrol and sit in the office.
Part of the reason I became a deputy sheriff was because I enjoyed interacting with people, being out on the street.
Becoming a sergeant would mean more pay, but it would also relegate me to more of a paper-pusher.
The station house was too small to hold two sergeants, and there wasn’t enough money in the budget.
Harte held me close. “You have time to think about it. Whether you decide to take it or not, the most important thing is that your colleagues respect you and know you’re the best man for the job.
” He cupped my cheek. “Like I know you’re the best and only man for me.
The only one I want to be with.” He lay me down.
“Now come on, loser. I snowballed your ass with at least five hits. The quarterbacks won, and it’s time for me to collect my winnings.
This is going to be the best Christmas ever. ”
“It already is.” I pulled him on top of me.