Sweet Christmas Kisses (60 page)

With a visible shiver, Tiff backed up until she was close enough to grab his arm.  “I put your gun in the rice jar on the shelf.”

“I’m not killing that snake.  It’s just a baby.”  Deadly though it might be.

“I hate you, Tree-Hugger.  We’re getting a divorce.”  She shimmied around the way his kid sister used to do when she was waiting to get into a bathroom.

“Quit your potty dancing.”  The coral snake slithered under the table.  “See?  It’s more scared of us than we are of it.”

She muttered something about fools and their manhood, grabbed the bench, and used it as a broom to sweep the snake out the door and over the edge of the deck.  “It’ll be back.”  Tiff shuddered again.  “They always come back.  That darn broken door doesn’t keep anything out.”

“Can I save you every once in awhile?”  Using his cane, he closed the distance between them and put his arms around her.  She didn’t hesitate.  She melted into his embrace, smelling of wildflowers and sweetness.  “Tiff, have you ever thought that you don’t belong in Ecuador?”

She nodded, clutching him tighter.

“You should go home.  It’s Christmas Eve.”

She shook her head.

“Why not?”

“The chocolate.  My grandfather’s legacy.”  She spoke into his chest.  “And…I was supposed to get married tomorrow.” 

He felt the distinct urge to ring someone’s throat.  “Regrets?”

“No.”

He shouldn’t have been surprised at how relieved that made him feel.  “Good.”

“Good?”  She lifted her head and met his gaze.

He couldn’t help himself.  He kissed her.

Kissing Jax and being in his arms felt right.  The way a peanut butter and jelly sandwich felt right.  The way a great pair of jeans felt right.  The way no man had felt right before.

Tiff sighed and snuggled closer, letting Jax deepen the kiss.

The door tilted precariously once more.  Sun slanted through the partially open shutters.  A bird sang a lilting song.  It was a regular day in Ecuador and she feared she was falling in love again.

Her father would have said it was because they’d survived two snake events together.

Her mother would have said it was because she was a sucker for a handsome face.

Her brother would have ruffled her hair and said she should move in with the guy before agreeing to marry him.

She’d disagree with all of them.  But the fact remained–she’d made bad decisions in the past and five men had been hurt in the fall out. 

Jax stroked her hair.  His hand came to rest at the end of her braid.  One tug. Two.  He broke off the kiss.  “You think too much.”

She drew back to meet his intense blue gaze.  “I’m thinking that starting anything with me is a bad decision on your part.”

“Too late.”  He framed her face in his hands and claimed her lips again.  No warning.  No signals.  No lack of skill.

His kiss.  She sighed.  Not too hot.  Not too intense.  Not out of control.  Something inside Tiff eased, shifted, tilted toward Jax – the man, his honorable heart.  How she hoped she wouldn’t hurt him.

All her tilting set them off balance.  They caught each other.  His cane fell to the ground.

His dark brows lowered, as if their pitching bruised his fragile male ego. 

Tiff was quick to stop that nonsense.  “That kiss knocked us both off our feet, sailor.” 

“I keep telling you I’m Army.”  Humor did the trick.  The impending storm was averted.  His gaze softened and focused on her mouth.  “I know you’ve kissed a lot of frogs, but maybe you can remember that.”

She didn’t think she’d ever forget.  But jokes aside, she had to be honest.  “Before this goes any farther, you have to remember that I’m the Bon-Voyage Bride, the Fleeing Fiancee.”  And a long list of other titles.

His thumb stroked over her cheek.  “You don’t call yourself any of those names, do you?”

“No.”

“Then I won’t either.”

She stepped free of his embrace.  “Jax, I suck at relationships.”

“Only if you can’t learn from the past.”  He walked back to the table.

He was so hopeful.  She was so very scared.  “It always seems to start with a bang and then fizzles.”

Jax pried the rotted wooden bench leg free.  “Was there a bang when you saw me?”

“You shot your gun,” she pointed out.

“There was screaming when you first saw me.”  His back was to her.  She couldn’t see his smile, but she felt it in his voice.  “The bang came later.”

He was right.  At first glance, she’d thought he was a zombie.  And then when he’d passed out in the foyer, she’d thought he was average.

“Remember how during
unido
I told you I don’t hold hands on the first date?”

“Yes, but what does that have to do with my fickle heart?”

“It means we go slow.  It means we talk through our feelings.  It means we don’t panic and bolt at the first obstacle.”  His voice was steady, no trace of recrimination or irritation.  “Do you think you can do that, wife?”

She wanted to say yes.  But fear clamped its hand over her mouth.  Fear that she’d disappoint her family.  Fear that she’d hurt Jax.  Fear that she’d miss out on something that was real this time because she was too scared to commit.

The nuns returned in the late afternoon, full of holiday cheer, looking spent but happy.  Their smiles broadened when they saw Tiff had prepared dinner and Jax had fixed the bench and door.

“They’re gushing about the bus stop and water pump, too,” Tiff translated.  She met his gaze and then hers slid away, as if she was uncomfortable with him. 

That had to change.

Jax and Tiff had spent a quiet afternoon puttering around the convent, never speaking more than was necessary to fix things that had been neglected.

Jax refused to classify kissing Tiff as a mistake.  She may be afraid of what was blossoming between them, but he wasn’t.  Her lips fit perfectly on his.  She knew exactly how to make him feel relevant.  Back home, his parents barely let him get up to use the bathroom solo.  Here, Tiff treated him like a capable man.

Since he’d suggested they go slow, Tiff had been standoffish.  He’d be a fool to believe that anything lasting could exist between them.  Forget her track record.  They came from two different worlds.  Her family was rich and famous.  She’d been featured in gossip magazines.  He tried to imagine her as the bridezilla the press made her out to be.  He couldn’t.  Call him a fool.  He thought they had a chance at something important.

Sister Mary Rosa had brought back a simple wreath made of thick green vines bound with strips of bamboo shoots.  She wanted to hang it on the wall above a small shelf with a wood-carved nativity set.  Jax obliged.  The nun flashed her gap-toothed grin, and said something in Spanish to the other nuns that made them laugh, and Tiff blush.

“Want to translate that for me?”  He cocked an eyebrow at Tiff, who was busy finishing dinner preparations.

“No.”

He crossed the room, coming to lean on the counter.  “Come on.  Spill.”

“They said…”  Her pink cheeks turned a shade of red that made him want to kiss her again.  “They said if you were this handy around the common areas, you should know what you’re doing in the bedroom.”

His head snapped around to regard the nuns.  They sat at the table, tittering as they separated colorful embroidery thread.  “That’s not really what they said.”

Tiff nodded.  “I think they had wine at church.”

It was a different atmosphere than the night before, truly a jolly Christmas Eve.  The sisters kept singing snatches of Christmas carols in Spanish.  There was a serious note as they clasped hands at the dinner table and Sister Mary Ofelia led a prayer, but then it was back to smiles and a tumble of Spanish words.

After a dinner of rice, flat bread, and vegetables, Tiff fried plantains and topped them with sugar and cocoa powder.  As Tiff was cleaning up the dessert dishes, Jax said, “I’d like to renew our
unido
vows.”

She stiffened.  “Why?”

“Because once upon a time you wanted a Christmas wedding and I’m leaving in the morning.”

“All the more reason not to do this.”  There was suspicion in her voice, and maybe a hint of fear in her whiskey colored eyes.  “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I won’t get hurt if we go slow.” 
Liar.
  “More importantly, you won’t get hurt if we go slow.”

“Me?”

“Five broken engagements and not a word about your broken heart in the gossip magazines?  You’re not cold, Tiff.  You didn’t dump those guys and walk away unscathed.  You believed you were making the right decision.  I know you.”  He pushed a lock of hair from her face.  “You’re the woman who’s brave enough to come to a foreign country alone and try to save her family’s business.  That’s not the kind of woman who tosses a man’s affections aside with a cold heart.”

A tear slid down her cheek. 

He brushed it away.  “We’ll take it slow.”

“We won’t see each other for months.”  Her gaze dropped to her feet and her cute toes.  “Unless you stay.”

“Stay?”

Her chin came up at the incredulity in his voice.  “Your sores can’t be fully healed.  Don’t ask me for time if you can’t give it to yourself.”

“I’ll be fine.”  He rested his hand at the nape of her neck and rested his forehead on hers.  “You’ll get used to the idea of me–of us–while I’m gone.  When I’ve finished this trek, you won’t be scared of what’s between us.”

“Are you sure?”  She glanced up at him tentatively.

“I have a feeling, deep down in my heart, that you’re the only woman for me.”  He drew back.  “So are you in for another round of
unido
?”

She hesitated.

“It would make the nuns happy.”  Not to mention Jax.

“The nuns are drunk.  They’ve been sipping from a flask since they returned.  If we renew our vows, they’ll think we’re…”  She drew a breath.  “They’ll think we’ve taken a liking to each other.”

“I’ve taken a liking to you.”  His gaze traveled her curves and came to rest on her lips.

“If your mother was here, she’d warn you away from me.  She’d tell you that I make bad decisions regarding men.”  Her voice dropped below the hymn the nuns were singing until he had to strain to hear her.  “She’d predict I’d break your heart.”

“I know better.”

Her face pinched up.

This just wouldn’t do.  “Sisters?  Sisters?”  He interrupted their hymn, pointing from Tiff to himself and back.  “
Unido
.”  He captured Tiff’s hands with the hand that didn’t hold his cane, and led her beneath the wreath.  “Explain what I want–a gift for you at Christmas, a promise for the new year.”

She sighed, but translated.

Sister Mary Ofelia’s gaze softened.  Sister Mary Lucia clapped her hands.  And Sister Mary Rosa’s holey smile spread from ear to ear.

 “This feels too much like an altar.”  Tiff had taken her hair out of its braid sometime earlier.  Her brown locks were thick and wavy, spreading over her shoulders like a rich curtain of chocolate.

“Consider it practice for the real thing,” Jax whispered.  “The things in life that are worth waiting for are worth working for.  Like kisses and lasting relationships.”

Her tentative smile made him forget he had physical challenges, that he’d be fighting labels the rest of his life, like handicapped and cripple.  It made him forget her reputation and her prediction of failure.  He was lost in the warmth of her hands, the growing solidity of her smile, and the soft acceptance in her eyes.

Sister Mary Rosa stood before them with her walker and spoke in lyrical notes Jax couldn’t translate.  Except he understood.  She was asking if he’d love, honor, and cherish the woman next to him.  He did all those things. 

When the nun paused, looking at him expectantly, he said, “I do,” instead of yes.

Tiff’s hands convulsed on his.  “What are you doing?”

“Practicing.”  His grin felt wider than the bridge downhill.

When it was Tiff’s turn, she hesitated, turning questioning eyes to Jax.

“It’s just me,” Jax said, adjusting his balance on his cane.  “It’s just Christmas in a convent in the middle of nowhere.  It’s not legally binding.”  He didn’t add it was emotionally binding.  No matter what happened from this point on, he’d always feel bound to Tiff.

“I do,” she whispered.

The nuns applauded and gestured at them to come together.  To kiss.

They turned to face each other.  He was smiling.  She was not.

He kissed her anyway.  A gentle kiss.  A press of the lips so tender she’d know that he was willing to wait for her to gain her confidence in him.  In them.  But he couldn’t resist pulling her closer, pivoting slightly on his good leg.

The nuns screamed.

Jax righted them.  “I’ve never been to a country where people scream so much.” 

Tiff’s eyes had widened.  Her shoulders were hunched to her ears.  “It’s on my back.”

“What?”  He tried to lean forward to look as Sister Mary Ofelia handed him a water pitcher with a dish towel shoved in it.

“A spider.  Sister Mary Rosa said it must have come from the wreath.”  Tiff did a mummy-turn, as if her feet were wrapped tightly together.

Jax gasped.  Since starting his trek, he’d seen gargantuan snakes.  He’d had bugs the size of tennis balls land on him.  But this?  It was a wolf spider – white and brown, hairy, and as big as his hand.  It was perched halfway in Tiff’s hair and halfway on her shoulder.  “Poisonous, right?”

Tiff barely nodded.  The nuns clutched one another and prayed with an intensity that made him nervous.

“I’ve got this.”  He forced confidence in his voice.  What a mighty warrior he was.  He’d been standing right there when that big, nasty spider had hopped down on his Christmas bride.

Sister Mary Lucia made a scooping motion, apparently indicating the spider would hop right in if encouraged by the pitcher.  This was followed by a sweeping motion, possibly indicating that he should then cover the pitcher with the tea towel and hope it wouldn’t get angry, be uncooperative, and sink those tarantula-like fangs into Tiff’s flesh.  Or hop out and onto him.

He’d rather it attack him than Tiff.