20. The Naughty List
20
The Naughty List
OLIVER
Axel, Leighton’s middle-brother with the long hair, cleared his throat pointedly, his hand frozen on top of what I assumed was the infamous French bulldog. “Well. That’s certainly one way to keep it in the family.”
Kaia stripped the puppy out of his arms, handed it off to Leighton, and landed a punch to his gut in one quick motion.
“ What? ” He grinned as the rest of them burst out laughing. “We were all thinking it.”
“Facts,” Maverick muttered, but the big idiot beamed and wrapped a lanky arm around my shoulders, pulling me in for a bro-hug and slapping my back. “Congratulations, boss man. I guess we know why you’re on the naughty list this year.”
“Gonna be one good-looking kid,” a curly-haired guy with freckles said with a smile, pulling me in for a quick hug before I could counter Maverick. I think I recognized him from the first game of the season, but everything from that day was a bit of a blur. It was in the eyes though—that telltale blue-gray.
Reaching out my hand, I said, “Oliver Hart. I think we’ve met?”
“The day of the accident,” he filled in. “No worries, man. I’m Finn—number nine.”
“Oh, damn, that’s right. It’s really nice to see you.”
He laughed good-naturedly before patting my back. “Good luck, today.”
He seemed to mean it.
Leighton and I were individually passed from sibling to sibling, although it seemed the grilling was mostly directed toward her, while I was given hellos and congratulations. Nobody threatened my life, but Jameson did grip my hand tight enough to make his feelings known.
Those solemn eyes locked on mine as he growled, “You take care of our girl, understand?”
I’d gone head to head with CEOs that didn’t make me feel like I was going to shit myself half as much as this fisherman did. No wonder Greyson liked him. I had the distinct impression he could make me disappear, and sleep like a baby afterward.
I nodded. “With everything I have,” I vowed.
Like my brother, the idea of a smile seemed to offend the towering tank of a man. But I was almost certain his mouth tipped up, albeit incrementally.
“I’ll hold you to that.”
“Counting on it,” I chuckled, before finding my girl in the kitchen, where her sisters were all cooing and peppering her in questions.
“Excuse me, ladies, but I’d love to steal a moment with Leighton, if she’ll humor me?” Please say yes.
Luckily for me, she nodded, a sheepish smile on her face as she snatched my hand and led me out into the yard and over to a raised deck. To my immense relief, she turned to face me, wrapping my hands in hers.
“ I’m so sorry ,” we breathed in unison.
“What the hell do you have to be sorry for?” I scoffed, reaching up to cup her cheeks in my hands. Her palms found their way to my chest, her thumb brushing just beneath my jaw.
“Leaving. I should’ve stayed with you?—”
I ghosted my lips over hers, relief sluicing through me when she raised on her tiptoes to capture the teasing touch with a kiss that sent that addictive electricity flaring between us.
“Baby, this one is on me.” I shook my head. “I lost it .”
“Of all the times not to have Guawkward the emotional support avocado.”
“Honestly.” I snorted.
“After everything you went through with Carly, I should’ve tried to be more empathetic.”
“You’re growing a person. You’re doing enough.”
She gave a watery little laugh, and I captured the sound with my mouth. “You came after me,” she breathed.
“Of course I came.” My fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt, palm pressing to her side—just to feel her.
“Thank you. I missed you so much.”
“You have no idea.”
“I think I might. Wait. Where are the kids?”
“With Grey and Alice at the hotel. They had no complaints about Christmas in Florida. I thought I’d take them to Orlando before we head home.”
“Beau will love that.”
“Believe it or not, Mattie loves Disney.”
“With the crowds?”
“She wears headphones a lot, but she loves all the magic of it enough to deal. She just needs a little extra sleep afterward.”
“I love that for her,” she said, tears welling in her eyes. My god, pregnancy made my girl a crier. How hadn’t I seen it sooner? Her next question sent them spilling over the rim. “You’re not done with me?”
“ What ?” I would’ve staggered if I wasn’t holding onto her. My hand found her waist, slipping under the hem just to feel her smooth skin. The other dropped to squeeze her ribs, my thumb grazing under the edge of her breast, body humming with the need to memorize every inch of this woman.
“You’re not done with me? After I left like that? I can’t imagine it brought up any good memories for you. I swear, I never considered what that would feel like for you. I just wanted to be home and talk to Mom.”
I shut her up with another kiss, shaking my head, our noses brushing against each other a beat before I lifted my chin to kiss her forehead. “I wasn’t sure you’d even talk to me again. Much less still want anything to do with me. I’d understand if you wanted child support and to put as much distance between us as physically possible.”
Her breath caught, and her eyes shimmered. “Don’t say shit like that,” she whispered fiercely.
“I came here to beg for your forgiveness, Trouble. To ask you to please give me a chance. I was in shock, that was all.”
“That makes two of us.”
“I said some stupid shit.”
“ That makes two of us .”
I chuckled and shook my head, brushing a kiss to her temple.
“I really, really want to be a family with you,” Leighton confessed, and my ribs constricted. “I’m just… I’m not there yet.” A long silence stretched between us, until she added, softer, “Not the way you mean.”
I nodded slowly. “Leighton. We don’t need a baby to be a family. You’re already mine—and I’ll wait way longer than nine months if that’s what it takes for you to believe it. I don’t need you to wear my ring, or to live in my house, or carry my name for that to be true. Those things are just bonuses, baby.”
Her eyes glistened. “Really?”
“Really.” I drew her into my arms again. “And I promise, if you give me a chance, we do this at your pace. You want to stay in your place? I’ll figure it out.”
Leighton narrowed her eyes, mouth curving slowly before she bit her bottom lip. “Okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Know when to stop while you’re ahead, Hart.”
I burst out laughing, tugging her flush against my side as we turned back toward the house.
From inside, we heard Kaia yell, “If you don’t propose for real, I will!”
“Don’t tempt her,” Leighton muttered.
“Oh, I’ve learned,” I said with a grin.
Leighton
Every Christmas Eve after dinner, we gathered around the tree with classic music playing and exchanged jammies. Some years they were silly, others sweet—entirely dependent on the collective mood of the family.
And this year? Peak chaos.
To my surprise, everyone had been… well, frankly, awesome about the whole Ollie thing. They’d laid the jokes on thick throughout dinner, but he handled it even better than I did—laughing along and letting the jabs roll off his shoulders.
Now he was trying to squirrel his way out the door, mumbling something about not wanting to intrude on “family traditions.” But saint that she was, Alice had already wrapped pajamas for him and the kids.
Beau was following Quinny around with literal hearts in his eyes, Ollie in his wake—but when I scanned the packed living room, I couldn’t find our little lady anywhere.
Couldn’t blame her. This was the best kind of chaos, but it was still chaos. If you weren’t born into it, it could be sixteen kinds of overwhelming.
Greyson was chatting with my dad but still reached out to squeeze my shoulder as I passed. Alice’s glittering eyes caught mine from across the room.
I checked under the breakfast table, lifting the palm tree-print tablecloth just in case. Just a snoring Gimli and some discarded pie crust. With Axel and Mav now trying to out-sing Sinatra, I wandered toward the hallway.
“Tillie,” I hissed, trying not to announce the hunt to the entire house. “Tillie?”
“In here,” a small voice called back.
I rounded into the formal dining room and burst out laughing. An arm was tenting up the red tablecloth from underneath.
Groaning, I dropped to my knees and crawled under the table, flopping onto my back beside her.
“You okay?” she asked, skeptical.
“I ate too much.”
“Oh.” She nodded like that explained everything.
“ You okay? Just needed a moment of peace?”
She looked up at the table. “Your family is very big.”
“Yes it is.”
“They all talk at once.”
“Sure do.”
“And two of them are singing louder than the music.”
“That would be Maverick and Axel. They’re goobers, but harmless.”
“I remember Uncle Mav. He plays football. Daddy says he wants him.”
I snorted and slapped a hand over my mouth.
“What?” she asked, frowning like I’d offended her.
“Nothing, babygirl. You’re right. He’s a damn good receiver.”
“Why can you say ‘damn’ and I can’t?”
Shit. “Because adults make dumb rules. There are ‘adult words’ and ‘kid words,’ and apparently that’s one of them.”
“Feels like bullshit.”
“That’s… fair.” I tried not to laugh. “Just maybe don’t say that at school, okay?”
She shrugged. “Uncle Grey lets me sometimes.”
Of course he did.
We lay in companionable silence, listening to off-key crooning and the clatter of laughter from the other room.
“Aunt Alice got you guys pajamas so you can wear them with us.”
“I have pajamas.”
“I know. But these are tradition pajamas.”
“Traditions are illogical.”
“Sure, but they make people happy.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s fun.”
“Why?”
“Because…we like to have routines. They make us feel safe. Also, watching my six-foot-three brothers wear onesies is hilarious.”
She giggled and turned to me. “They wear onesies ?”
“Some years. We were unicorns last year.”
“Are there unicorns this year?”
“I don’t know. Only one way to find out.”
“Okay. But maybe in a minute.”
“You two okay down here?” Ollie ducked into our makeshift fort. God help me, my stomach flipped just looking at him.
“We’re fine,” I said, smiling up at him. “Discussing the Cuban Missile Crisis.”
“Ah. As one does.” He glanced between us. “Is this a no-boys-allowed club, or can I join?”
“You can only come in if you play with us,” Tillie said primly.
“Cuban Missile Crisis?”
“No.” I laughed. “Would You Rather.”
He crawled inside and laid down opposite me, looking absurdly large under the table. Tillie scooted into my side, and I tucked her close as Frank crooned Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas overhead.
“Alright, Tillie. Your turn.”
She sighed, like she was entertaining children. “Would you rather build a fort or bake cookies?”
Ollie groaned and clutched his chest. “I have to choose?”
“Yep.”
“It can’t be both?”
“Nope. That defeats the whole point,” Tillie chirped.
“If I have to pick, I’m going with cookies. Because then we get to eat them.”
“Leighton?”
“I’m with your daddy,” I said without hesitation. And maybe it was my imagination, but then the cheeky bastard had to smile at me like I’d said something a hell of a lot bigger than an answer to the game. I smiled back and gave him a little nod. Yeah, big guy. I’m with you.
“I’m going with cookies too,” Tillie decided.
“Really?” I tickled her side. “I’m surprised.”
“You do like your forts,” Ollie pointed out.
“But if you two are doing cookies together, I want to bake too.”
Cue lump in throat. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. You work well together. You’re… glowy.”
“Glowy?” Ollie asked.
“Like Christmas lights. Not loud. Just… happy.” She wrinkled her nose. “That sounds dumb.”
“No,” Ollie scoffed, the grin stretching his face permeating his sexy voice. “That’s not dumb. My turn?”
“Yep.”
With his eyes on me, Ollie asked, “Candlelit dinner or breakfast in bed?”
“Why would I eat dinner with candles?” Tillie wrinkled her nose. “That seems unsafe.”
Fuck me, my cheeks hurt. I loved this kid. This man. All of them.
“It’s for ambiance,” I explained.
“Ambiance?”
“Like… the vibes,” I said with a shrug. “Personally, I hate mornings, so waking up to food and coffee already made for me is pretty special.”
“Hmm. Yeah. I like when Daddy makes cinnamon rolls. But they’re too sticky to eat in bed. That would get messy, and just—no fucking thank you.”
To my relief, Ollie laughed at the same time I did, both of us shaking our heads. But his eyes stayed on me when he said, “Very good to know.”
“Whatcha doin’?” Beau’s little voice cut through the tablecloth seconds before his head popped underneath it, knocking a few plates across the top in the process. Ollie and I both scrambled to lift the fabric from his forehead.
“We’ve been discovered,” I whispered to Tillie, who scowled at her brother.
“Having family time,” she snapped, completely unaware that her words hit me square in the sternum.
“Welp. I’m family. Why ‘m I not in here?”
“Cause you’re a boy,” she pointed out.
“So is Daddy.”
“Yeah, but that’s Daddy .”
I gave her a warning pinch on the arm, shooting her a look. She huffed. “ Fine . Come in.”
I opened an arm, and Beau grinned before dramatically crawling over me to nestle in tight. Somewhere beyond our little haven, Noel and Brexley were laughing, my sisters were arguing over Santa’s cookie-to-carrot ratio, and Kaia was calling my name. But when Ollie slipped his hand into mine where Tillie couldn’t see, I didn’t care enough to holler back.
With a lion-sized yawn, Beau declared, “We have a very good family.”
“The best,” Tillie agreed.
Ollie just squeezed my fingers—like he knew. Like he knew those tiny voices saying those words had my chest clenching. Like he knew how badly I’d needed to hear them to believe it.
“Yeah, buddy,” he said softly. “We sure do.”
* * *
A few hours later, I had a cookie-drunk Beau passed out on my shoulder while Ollie carried his unicorn-clad daughter to the car. A little drool spot on his red sweatshirt told me she was truly zonked. By the time I’d gotten Beau transferred into his seat and buckled, I turned to find Ollie leaning against the car beside me.
“Merry Christmas, Ollie.”
“Merry Christmas, Trouble.”
Fuck me, that man could kill me with a smile like that. His fingers grazed the lowest stretch of my belly, eyes dipping to where new life quietly stirred.
“Merry Christmas, little one.”
“It’s like you’re trying to see how many times you can make me cry today.”
He chuckled, then leaned in—closing my door and pressing me back against it. “I promise I’ll do everything I can to make sure you never cry again, Leigh.”
“Tall order, sir. These hormones are brutal.”
“Then let’s say this—no tears because of me. Unless they’re happy. Or naughty. Those are allowed.”
“ Naughty tears , huh?” I tried to sound flippant, but nerves prickled in my chest. Not when I kissed him at a party. Not when we slept together. But now—here—I was nervous.
Because for the first time in years, I cared what someone outside of my family thought of me. And I’d sworn never to give that kind of power away again.
But Ollie?
Ollie mattered.
And that was terrifying.
“Those are my personal preference,” he breathed, and then he brushed his lips over mine. The touch was so gentle, so tender that my heart sang. I dug my fingers into his waist, holding him against me and fighting the urge to grind against the thigh he wedged between my knees.
Like one of those pretty bikini bitches had waved a checkered flag, my libido flew off the starting line, determined to finish first.
Dammit, hormones. I could blame those for everything, right? Like the heat igniting in my skin, and the way my hands wandered of their own accord? Like the bone-deep need to taste this man in the back of my throat?
Ollie’s tongue skillfully slipped between my lips, his flavor bursting over my tastebuds sending me sucking down a breath a beat before those strong hands I loved slipped under the cropped t-shirt I’d gotten for pajamas this year. Warm and rough, he was apparently just as desperate as I was. I moaned when he slid his palm up my ribs until he could tease my nipple and send a jolt of energy down my spine.
“Leigh,” he warned, but I just swallowed the word. I’d never been a tremendous fan of my name, but God, when this man growled it…I could hear that forever. I slid a hand down between us to cup his cock through his new red sweatpants. He groaned into my mouth when I stroked my thumb down the length of him. “Trouble,” he growled again.
I didn’t stop.
“What’s it say about me that I want to feel you between my legs tomorrow,” I whispered. “So I know this is real.”
“That you’re mine?” he asked.
I nodded, slipping my fingers into his hair, clutching tight.
Mine. The word reverberated through me like a bell. Terrifying and intoxicating all at once.
“ Yours ,” I breathed, loving the way that word dripped off my tongue for him to devour with each decadent kiss.
Then he broke away just enough to murmur, “Come with me.”
“To the hotel?”
He nodded.
“Aren’t Grey and Alice staying with you?”
“We booked the top floor. Two separate suites. Two bedrooms each.” He searched my face. “Let me make it up to you tonight.”
“You don’t need to make up for anything?—”
His fingers settled over my lips.
“Let me show you how good I can make you feel.”
“Our predicament would indicate I’m already familiar with your pleasure stick.”
He smirked, lips twitching. “Just getting started.”
“That sounds like a challenge.”
“You like challenges.”
“I do,” I whispered, grinding against his thigh.
“Then come with me.” He winked. “We’ll see who can get the other off faster.”
My smirk crept up my cheeks until it was a full on grin, and I shook my head. “And you call me trouble.”