Gifts of Honor: Starting from Scratch\Hero's Homecoming (8 page)

“You’ve still gotten more than one hell of a lot of people in your situation ever get back, Sully.”

“Right. I’m lucky.” The problem was he didn’t feel lucky. As he crunched down on a powdered sugar-covered cookie and the spicy sweetness filled his every sense, the image of Lucy haunted him until it was all he could see.

Chapter Seven

“I can’t believe Bitterthorn is suffering a traffic jam.” Celia peeked out the sweet shop’s front window at the chaos going on beyond the glass. It was quite a feat to see anything out the shop’s front windows. They were now decorated with Celia’s artistic concept of a Christmas cookie factory run by a robust Mrs. Claus that resembled Pauline. Celia had been hired around the same time as Lucy to man the counters, but when she’d volunteered to paint the front windows with a summer theme, she proved herself to be far more valuable as the shop’s decorator. Manning the register was still her primary role, however, and it was a task she seemed happy to ignore as she tried to get a look at the madness going on beyond the shop.

“I wouldn’t call having to wait for Sheriff Berry to wave you through an intersection a
traffic jam
.” Since the ovens were now off and the pieces of Mayor Weems’s gingerbread house were ready for transportation tomorrow morning, Lucy did Celia’s job and rang up the last customer of the day. “Traffic is much worse in San Antonio. I’ll take Bitterthorn’s version of congestion any day.”

“Since I haven’t gotten my license yet, I guess I have to take your word for it.” With her dark eyes glued to the wall clock, she pounced on the front door the moment it was closing time, turning the dead bolt and flipping the sign to Closed. “You lived in the big city before you came back to Bitterthorn, didn’t you, Luce?”

“Bigger than Bitterthorn, but I wouldn’t call Fort Benning a big city.”

“Do you miss it?”

Surprised, Lucy hit a couple of keys on the register. “Every now and again, I guess. But Bitterthorn has everything a larger place has, Celia, believe me. Now come on over here and total up your receipts for the day.”

Celia groaned. “My totals always come out differently. Last week I did it three times and each time it came out a different number.”

“Willard’s still in the back office, he can help you if you need it.”

“I’d rather watch the mess Sheriff Berry’s making of the traffic flow while setting up tomorrow’s parade route. Omigod, there are the Brody boys.” A squeal escaped her before she waved with such wild abandon it would have been enough to flag down a ship passing Gilligan and the other castaways. “Aw, man. They didn’t see me.”

“They must be blind.”

“I know, right? Maybe I was hidden behind Mrs. Claus.”

“Or,” Lucy drawled, coming to hand the cash drawer to the teen, “they did see you, but decided they didn’t want to play with lovely, oh-so-tempting jailbait.”

“Another year and I won’t be.” With a sniff, Celia headed for the back office. “You’ve got no romance in your soul, Lucy, but I’m not like that. Maybe true love is only for the young.”

“I’m twenty-six,” Lucy began hotly, then gave up when she realized the door was already closing behind Celia. Who gave a crap about romance anyway? Scowling, she checked the kitchen one last time to make sure all the ovens were off and everything was in its place before heading out the back. Maybe romance did have a sparkly, new-car kind of feel to it at Celia’s age, if only because everything was so new it hurt. But that sparkle didn’t have to be lost forever. Though the mere thought of romance, love and happily-ever-after was about as palatable as mud at the moment, she didn’t believe she’d always feel that way. Someday, after her wounds had healed, she could foresee a time when she’d be ready to once again share her life with someone. The kind of white-hot passion she’d had with Sully was probably out of the question. That sort of magic was a once-in-a-lifetime deal. But she could still shoot for a warm relationship built on the foundation of companionship.

Companionship. Geez. Maybe Celia was right and romance really was for the young.

Lucy’s stride easily outpaced the traffic inching along what would be tomorrow’s parade route, with the town’s rotund sheriff directing traffic into an abysmal snarl. Relieved her own car was parked safely behind Lefty’s, she glanced into the garage to see Coe busily cussing out an engine block. With a quick wave she left him to it, hustling up the wooden stairs to her landing...and almost face-planting into a tightly netted tree leaning outside her door.

“What the...?”

“Surprise,” came Sully’s voice from the tree’s other side. “Merry Christmas.”

Still rocking, she managed to make it up to the landing to find not just Sully and a bound Christmas tree, but also several bags filled with what looked like boxes of ornaments. “Okay,” she began, while trying to keep her teeth from falling out. “I’ll bite. What is this?”

“The moth incident.” Sully’s eyes were the exact color of the tree next to him, and it was nearly impossible to resist the smile that grew there. “I might not remember you, but I definitely remember the moths. I was thinking you might be worried about putting up a tree all by yourself because of that, so I thought I’d offer to put one up for you. And if you don’t want it, I’ll understand,” he added quickly when she opened her mouth. “You won’t hurt my feelings, if that’s the case. But maybe you’ll start to feel a bit of the Christmas spirit if we put on some schmaltzy Perry Como, drink a little hot chocolate and hang a few decorations. Oh, and another part of this deal—I solemnly swear that if even one moth flies out of this thing, I’ll kill it before you can let out so much as a peep.”

“You brought me a tree?” Surprise, and a silly, touched tenderness moved through her with all the magic of a cloudless sunrise to warm her from the inside out. Then realization shattered the spell. “Wait. You remember the moths, but not how I almost peed my panties when they attacked me like they had a personal grudge?”

“Oh, wow. When you put it like that, it makes me doubly pissed off that I can’t remember.”

Great. Moths were more memorable than her. With a sigh, Lucy unlocked the door and barreled inside. “I really appreciate all the trouble you went to, but unless my memory’s suddenly as much on the fritz as yours, I do believe I told you that I was giving Christmas a pass.”

“You also said I wasn’t the reason behind it, but I didn’t believe that either.” Hesitating on the threshold, his gaze locked with hers. “You were right when you said I should be on my knees thanking you for everything you’ve done for me. I know I don’t have the right to ask you for anything more, but I am. I’m asking you to give me the chance to say thank you.”

She put a hand to the sudden ache in her chest. “By giving me a tree?”

“By reminding you that you love Christmas.” He gave the tree a little shake. “So, what’s it going to be? Are you going to send this tree packing into the cold, cruel world with no place for it to call home? Just think—a sad, homeless tree wandering the mean streets of Bitterthorn, with no one to give it love or popcorn strings at this joyous time of year—”

She snorted with reluctant laughter. “Okay, okay, you win. Get that thing in here already.”

“Now there’s a smile I can work with.” Instead of moving inside, he stared at her as if he were trying to memorize every line and curve of her face. The intensity of his attention was enough to stall out the basic biomechanics she used for breathing, and when a heated glow ignited in her cheeks she put a hand up to cover it. A blush. Good grief, the man could make her blush just by looking at her. How was that even fair?

In an effort to hide her reaction that no doubt rivaled the red glow of Rudolph’s nose, she turned away to shrug out of her coat. “Do you need any help with that?”

“No worries, I’ve got this.” Sully hauled the tree inside and zeroed in on the empty space in front of the windows. “Would you mind getting those bags on the landing? I’ll have this baby up in no time.”

Now that she’d agreed to have a hint of Christmas in her personal space, Lucy was surprised to find herself smiling as she dragged in the bags. Her smile bloomed to a delighted grin when she found they were full of not just ornaments but also garland, white lights, candy canes and a silver star tree topper.

“Looks like I’m going to have a red-and-white tree.” Looking around at all the decorations she’d unpacked while Sully wrestled the tree into a stand and filled the reservoir with water, she breathed in the invigorating scent of pine. “I have to say, I’m impressed. Most guys don’t think about being color-coordinated when it comes to this sort of thing.”

“Don’t be too impressed. I just bought everything in your favorite color in the hope that it’d help me crawl my way back into your good graces.”

That he was worried about her graces at all made her defenses threaten to blow over house-of-cards style. “You could have saved yourself loads of money by simply apologizing for implying I’ve been sleeping around. Not that there’s anything wrong with a healthy sex drive, but in all honesty my drive has been pretty much stuck in neutral for a while now.” Holy crap, did she really just say that?

His brows shot up while the rest of him went still. “So...you’ve given up both Christmas
and
sex? Man, I really did a number on you, didn’t I?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She had to laugh at his worried expression, then felt her skin heating up once again when his attention wandered to her mouth. “So, are we putting this tree up, or what?”

“If you’ll keep smiling at me, I’ll do whatever you want.” The netting still held the tree’s branches in place, and he gave her a wary side-eye. “You’re not going to freak if moths fly out of this one, are you?”

She hunted down a pair of utility scissors and handed them over. “I guarantee that not only will I freak, I’ll also scream like I’m being murdered by Freddy Krueger.”

“They’re
moths
, Luce. The worst they can do is eat your tweed.”

“Then it’s a good thing I don’t have any. Tweed is the devil’s material, and moths are his fluttery, dusty minions that want to steal my soul.” Then she tilted her head. “Also, I don’t like them.”

“No kidding, really?”

“Hold on. I need to prepare for this.” Popping over to the storage closet near the kitchen, she searched through various cleaning supplies, almost got beaned by a menacing ironing board, and surfaced with a flyswatter. “Okay. Let ’er rip.”

He watched her take a textbook batter’s stance. “Wow. Could you hold that pose while I get my phone out? I’ve got to take a picture of this.”

“Try it and I’ll show you how pretty my middle finger is. Are you going to let the moths out, or what?”

“Will you relax? I’m sure we used up all our bad moth mojo last year.”

“I hope so.”

“This year it’s probably hornets.”

“Oh, my dear God in heaven.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had more fun putting up a Christmas tree.” With a grin, Sully fiddled a bit with a branch poking out of the netting. “Enjoying holiday traditions while terrorizing you all at the same time. It doesn’t get any better than this.”

“In another five seconds, I’m going to terrorize
you
with this swatter if you don’t get that netting off.”

“Now, now. Just because it’s Christmas Eve-Eve doesn’t mean Santa isn’t still on the lookout for bad girls and boys.”

“Then this bad girl is doomed for sure.” Just to make sure she landed on the Naughty list, she swatted his bottom. “Come on, I can’t take the suspense.”

A wicked laugh escaped him as he sliced the netting open. Lucy held her breath, eyes wide-open and ready for anything, so when something flew straight at her she squealed, flailed with the swatter and skittered backward all at once. As a spaz attack, it was a doozy, so she probably shouldn’t have been surprised when she lost her balance on the edge of an area rug and tipped backward. Sully leaped forward to catch her, and they crashed to the floor together in a tangle of legs, arms and one badly wielded flyswatter.

“It was just a branch I snapped off,” Sully gasped as they sprawled on the rug. He reached over somewhere above her head and showed her the teeny evergreen stem that had flown her way. “See? I thought it’d be funny, so—”

“You threw that?” She gaped at the terrifying twig before she burst out laughing. “Geez, I thought it was a
bat!
”

He laughed down at her, eyes alight. “You are, without a doubt, the easiest person in the world to scare.”

“Wait, don’t talk to me yet. My heart’s still trying to beat me to death.”

“Is it really?” Still grinning, he pressed his hand flat against her chest.

For a second the world went quiet. It was as if every living thing held its breath as their sudden closeness hit her senses with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. His knee wedged in between hers as she lay on her back. His weight lounged with a breathtaking familiarity on her right side while his arm and hand rested along the center of her torso. The heat radiating from him was intoxicating; it flooded through the negligible barriers of their clothing to stimulate every nerve ending into hyperawareness. It was almost as though his body heat alone was enough to brand her with an invisible mark, a sensation she’d forgotten about but was brought back to vivid life now that he touched her even in an innocently intimate way.

Though, really, there was very little innocence in the hand resting between her breasts.

The thrum of her heart didn’t decrease. If anything, its tempo sped up to the level of stress-test madness. Her gaze jerked to his, and in that instant she saw in his eyes the same beautiful chaos—the surprise, the hunger and even a hint of resigned knowledge that this was probably the most idiotic thing they could do. In fact, if there were such a thing as a stupid scale, letting this progress any further would be on a par with playing with matches next to a vat of gasoline. They were divorced. He couldn’t remember her. And though she kept trying to turn off her heart and move on, she didn’t know how to stop reveling in his touch.

So, yeah. This was stupid. But it was going to happen. And after a year of lonely solitude, it was going to be
great
.

But first, for the sake of what was left of her sanity, she had to try to set the parameters.

“You know what we need to do?” The moment she spoke he shifted his weight so that it lay more heavily on her, his thigh coming to rest with a sensually provocative friction between hers. It was almost as if he feared she might try to get away. “We need to make a deal.”