A Christmas to Remember (6 page)

To Emily Sylvan Kim and Amy Pierpont, both of whom talked me into writing this story when I was certain I didn’t have the time, and I wasn’t certain I could do “short.”

I loved spending Christmas with the Allens and the Cages.

And I’m glad Emily and Amy didn’t give up on me so I got that chance.

T
ABBY

“Do you think this is a good idea?” I asked.

“No,” Tyra answered, but she had a smile in her voice.

We were standing outside on the deck next to Tyra and Dad’s house in the foothills of Colorado outside Denver. It was two a.m. In other words, the early morning hours of Christmas Day.

And it had just started snowing.

The darkness before us was cut with a floodlight. Therefore, Ty-Ty and I could clearly see what was happening around the huge, tall tree at the other side of the drive.

“If Shy falls off that ladder and breaks his neck, I’m blaming Dad,” I joked, and it was a joke because this wouldn’t happen. My man could do anything, including what he was right then doing up on a ladder out in the snow.

“Where Tack’s standing, if Shy falls off, he’ll fall right on your father,” Tyra replied.

I grinned because this was true.

Out in the dark, my dad and Tyra’s husband, Kane “Tack” Allen, my man, Parker “Shy” Cage, my brother, Cole “Rush” Allen, and Shy’s brother, Landon, were all working by the bright light of the floodlight at the tree.

In truth, they weren’t all working at the tree. There were two ladders on either side of a stout branch. Shy was up one, Rush was up the other, and those two were currently working at tying a rope to the branch. At the bottom of the rope a tire was tied. So it was only Shy and Rush who were working.

The reason for the tire swing?

It was a Christmas present for my baby brothers (Dad’s kids with Ty-Ty), Rider and Cutter. This present came about because six-year-old Ride had seen some kid on a TV show on a tire swing and he’d gone ga-ga over it. It had been all he’d talked about for the last four months. And by talking about it I mean begging Dad for one.

Since Ride’d been talking about it (or begging), four-year-old Cut got in on the action. And Cut hadn’t even seen the show with the swing. But it sounded like all kinds of fun to him and Cutter was all about fun, the wilder the better.

In other words, neither he, nor his big brother, fell far from the tree.

So Dad, being just that kind of dad (always), was giving it to them.

Except he wasn’t. He was standing at the base of the tree barking orders up to my man and my big brother, and although Dad supplied the tire and the rope, he wasn’t the one up the tree.

For Landon’s part, he wasn’t bothering to hide the fact that he thought the whole thing was hilarious—primarily how long it was taking—and he was doing this by shouting jokes.

That said, since he showed, I was getting a weird feeling from Landon. Shy’s brother was usually a teasing, laid-back, fun-loving guy. That wasn’t to say he couldn’t be intense, especially when it came to his brother. They were tight and looked out for each other. Life taught them to be that way. Mostly, though, he was funny and mellow.

But now, something about Lan was just… off.

This tire swing situation had been going on for an hour. The lateness of that hour was due to the fact that Ride and Cut were so excited Santa was coming they wouldn’t go to sleep, and it hadn’t been safe for “Santa” to go out and give them their swing.

The fact that it had started snowing made the hilarious event of three Chaos Motorcycle club bikers and a soldier tying a rope to a tree
seriously
hilarious.

“Give it a yank!” Shy called down to Dad.

Dad moved forward and wrapped his hands around the rope, giving it a hefty tug.

For once (and that would be once in about twenty tries), the knot didn’t slip.

“You want me to climb in?” Landon offered. “Test it out? Give it a whirl?”

“You climb on that fuckin’ tire while this ladder is resting against this branch and I’m on it, I’ll rip your head off,” Shy returned.

I stifled a giggle even though it appeared my man was losing his Christmas spirit.

Dad gave the rope another tug.

It held.

“I hope this is done,” Tyra whispered to me. “I need the whole three hours’ sleep I’m going to get before the boys wake us up.”

“And Rush needs the next three hours to wrap his Christmas presents,” I whispered back.

This was the truth. Every year my brother delayed shopping until the very last moment. Then he brought his Christmas stash over on Christmas Eve and spent hours wrapping. And bitching. Though I didn’t know why it took hours or why he was bitching. He wrapped his presents in newspaper and didn’t put bows or tags on them or anything. He just wrote in a Sharpie pen on the paper in big letters who they were for. So it wasn’t that strenuous of an endeavor.

“Come down,” Dad called. “We’ll test it when you got your feet on the ground.”

Shy and Rush descended.

Tyra and I watched.

They moved the ladders and Shy went to the tire. He cautiously put a foot into it and gave it his weight. Then he started to swing.

God.

My man was hot even swinging on a tire in a snowstorm in the middle of the night.

Seriously.

Though, I was thinking this mostly had to do with the fact that I had his back, which means I had a line of sight to his ass in his jeans and his shoulders in his thermal.

Nice.

“Finally, we’re done,” Tyra murmured. “Let’s get out of this snow.”

We’re
done?

I grinned again at Tyra’s words but this time to myself, since Ty-Ty and I
really
had no part in Operation Tire Swing except to provide moral support from afar.

I left the men to the cleanup and started to follow her inside. But I gave a last look at the men and saw Shy approach his brother. Since the Christmas preparations were winding down, I had a feeling Shy had also felt the weird vibe from Lan and was having a word.

I left him to it and went inside.

Tyra was at the stove.

I closed the door behind me and looked left at the brightly lit Christmas tree where, earlier, Tyra and I had spent an hour on our hands and knees spreading all the presents out in a single layer across the living room carpet, adding Santa’s addition. This meant there was very little carpet left. The room looked like a Christmas explosion.

It was
awesome.

“Cocoa for the men,” Tyra called, but softly because there was no doubt my little brothers were sleeping lightly. I looked to her as she finished, “Warm them up.”

Three bikers and a GI drinking cocoa?

Was she Christmas crazy?

“Uh… not sure Shy’s into cocoa,” I informed her as I made my way to the kitchen.

She opened a cupboard and pulled out a bottle. Turning to me, she held it up.

Peppermint Schnapps.

“That’ll work,” I mumbled on a smile.

The milk was warming in the saucepan and the mugs with powdered cocoa were at the ready when the men came in.

They didn’t bother to dust off the snow in their hair and on their shoulders. They also hadn’t bothered to put on coats or even jackets although it was below freezing. We were up in the Colorado foothills and everyone knew (and was excited) that after a very dry winter, we were forecast to have a white Christmas.

This meant every last one of the guys was in nothing but a thermal, jeans, and biker boots, except Landon, who had on construction boots.

This wasn’t a surprise. As reigning Chaos princess (Dad was president of Chaos) and also as an old lady, I’d known my whole life alpha badass bikers were impervious to cold. And it wasn’t a stretch to learn that military men were just as badass.

“Congratulations on doing that without anyone sticking anyone with a knife,” I said as the men moved into the kitchen.

My man grinned at me.

When he did, my belly got warm and my lips tipped up.

My eyes moved to Landon and I saw he was gazing at the Christmas tree, an expression on his face that made my belly stop being warm and my lips droop down. Before I could get a lock on it, Dad spoke.

“Brothers can work together,” Dad noted. “It’s bitches who get bitchy.”

I decided not to argue this, though, truth be told, there wasn’t anything to argue with. For the most part, Dad wasn’t wrong.

Shy slid an arm around my shoulders. I shivered as the cold still clinging to him transferred to me. So I turned into him, pressed my front into his side and wrapped my arms tight around his middle in an effort to warm him up. This had the effect of his arm around me tightening.

“Spiked cocoa, fuckin’ great,” Landon muttered, eyes now on the mugs. He moved his gaze to Shy. “You in a tree in the snow and loaded hot chocolate. Think I’m gonna like Christmas with the Allens.”

My belly got warm again and I looked to Tyra. When I did, I saw her green eyes were on me. They were soft but lit with a happy light that corresponded with the feel I had around my heart.

This was because Shy and Landon Cage had not had a true family Christmas since Shy was twelve and Landon was ten. That year, on New Year’s Eve, their parents had been murdered. They’d been raised from then on by a shrew of an aunt who’d detested them and the added responsibility and drain on finances they represented, and she didn’t mind showing it.

This was going to be my first Christmas with my man; we’d just hooked up this past summer. And I was totally excited about that—Christmas
and
hooking up with my man.

But I was more excited about giving him, and his brother, a real, honest–to-God family Christmas.

And the look on Ty-Ty’s face said she was looking forward to the same.

I studied Lan from under my lashes and I hoped, instead of bringing up unhappy memories of all he’d lost, that he looked forward to it too.

“I coulda done without the me–in-the-tree part,” Shy murmured as I gave him a squeeze before I let him go in order to help Tyra, who was now pouring the milk in the mugs.

“That was the best part,” Landon told him.

Shy gave Landon a look and I saved Landon from his retort by pushing a mug of cocoa in Shy’s chest.

Shy looked away from his brother to look at me. But he didn’t take the mug until he bent his neck to touch his mouth to mine.

And there it was again. My belly getting even warmer.

“Tyra, where’s your newspaper?” Rush asked, and again I sent a smile Tyra’s way.

Tyra handed Dad a mug and answered, “Out in the garage, honey.”

“Right,” Rush muttered and moved that way, taking his mug with him.

I moved back to Shy, got close and up on my toes to whisper in his ear. “That’s our cue to get the heck outta here. Rush is gonna start wrapping, not his favorite chore, so it also means he’s gonna start gettin’ pissy.”

Without delay, Shy announced to everyone in the kitchen, “Tabby and me are goin’ to bed.”

Dad gave Shy a chin lift. I made my way to my father and gave him a hug. He gave me one back and a kiss on the cheek.

“See you in the mornin’, darlin’,” he said softly in my ear.

“Yeah, Dad. Merry Christmas.”

He gave me a squeeze. “Merry Christmas, honey.”

I handed out more hugs to Ty-Ty and Landon, the one I gave Lan included me looking into his eyes and giving him a cautious Christmas smile.

He smiled back but I could tell he wasn’t entirely committed to it.

Hmm.

I avoided my brother, who was coming back from the garage, his arms loaded with newspapers, a Sharpie between his teeth, calling out my good night to him as Shy and I headed to the basement.

Sleeping arrangements were that Shy and I got Rush’s old bedroom in the basement’ Landon was on the air mattress in the office and Rush, since he’d be up for several more hours, would hit the couch in the living room.

This meant privacy for my man and me.

Which meant this worked perfectly for me.

As Shy sucked back some of his cocoa, I approached the subject of his brother.

“Is Lan cool?” I asked quietly, and my man leveled his gaze on me.

“He’ll get there.”

That wasn’t a good answer.

“I didn’t think this would be hard on him. Or you. I thought—”

Shy moved from where he was standing at the dresser to me, standing in front of the bathroom. He lifted a hand, curled it around my neck and dipped his face close to mine.

Then he proceeded to break my heart.

“Me and Lan, we aren’t used to happy.”

Oh God.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have gone whole hog this year. Maybe we should have just had a little Christmas thing, you and me and him,” I suggested way too late.

That’s when he mended my heart.

“And maybe me and him should learn to get used to happy.”

I pressed my lips together to hold in the swell of warm his words caused and leaned forward, touching my forehead against his, knowing my man was getting used to happy and hoping his brother learned the same.

I watched his beautiful green eyes smile before I felt his lips touch mine. They tasted of cocoa, peppermint and Shy, which was a brilliant combination. Then he broke away, downed the last of his cocoa. We each did the brushing our teeth, changing clothes business and ended up on opposite sides of the bed.

Shy pulled back the covers.

I studied my long, lanky, loose-limbed man with his messy dark hair and his beautiful green eyes and that got another smile out of me that had nothing to do with Christmas.

“Hey,” I called, and he looked up from the bed.

When his eyes caught mine, they were questioning. But when he got a load of my smile, they turned soft.

And, just saying, when Shy saw me smile, that always happened.

Loved my man.

“What, baby?” he asked gently.

Oh yeah.

Loved my man.

“Merry Christmas,” I whispered.

That got me another look but this new look was not soft.

It was dark and hot.

“Come here,” he growled.

With his look and that tone, I didn’t delay.

I went there. In my tight red camisole and cream pajama shorts with big black and red snowflakes on them and a wide, red satin drawstring, I hit the bed on my knee. I added the other knee and moved across the bed to him.

The instant I got close, he snaked an arm around my waist and pulled me closer. In fact, he plastered me against him, hauling me up at the same time and I had no choice (not that I’d pick another one) but to wind my arms around his neck.