12 Christmas Romances To Melt Your Heart (26 page)

I
run
a comb through my hair again and adjust my shirt. I’d picked out a button-down shirt, which I tuck into my best pair of jeans.

I go into the living room and Phil turns to stare at me. Phil was once my parole officer. He’s the man who was willing to give me a shot. And now he’s letting me rent a room from him until I get in a position where I can move out on my own.

He stares a little harder and I start to squirm.

“What?” I ask.

He gets up and waves a hand in the air. “Follow me.”

I do, albeit reluctantly. “Where are we going?”

“You need a tie,” he says.

I turn back in the other direction. “I do
not
need a tie.”

“Get in here!” he yells from around the corner.

I think Phil was a drill sergeant in a former life. I know he was a cop, but good grief. “Yes, sir,” I mutter.

“I heard that.”

“I can tell,” I mutter still.

He goes to his closet and pulls out two ties, holding them up against my shirt, one by one. “This one,” he says.

I push his hand back. “I don’t want to wear a tie.”

“Nobody
wants
to wear a tie, dumbass,” he says. “We wear them because they show the other person we respect them and ourselves because we care what we look like.” He thrusts it into my hand.

“I don’t want it.” I push it back.

“Have you ever worn a tie?”

I didn’t exactly come from a tie-wearing family. “…No.”

“Not to church? Funerals?”

I scoff. “Church? You read my file.”

“So you don’t know how to tie a tie,” he says, his voice so soft and kind that it drags along my skin, chafing me from the inside out.

“No,” I admit.

“Come here.”

“Seriously?” I grumble.

He grins. “Don’t make me count to five.”

I shake my head and let him put the noose around my neck.

“This girl must be something special,” he says as he ties it and fixes my collar.

I nod.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you get dressed up for a girl before.”

He finishes the tying and I look in the mirror. I look like one of those monkeys that sits on someone’s shoulder. “I’ve never met one like this before,” I admit.

“How long have you known her?”

I shake my head. I feel like I’ve known her all my life, but I know I haven’t. “A few hours.”

“What’s she like?”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “She makes me feel happy inside.”

He punches my shoulder. “Good. Don’t do anything stupid tonight.”

“What would you classify as stupid?” Does that mean I shouldn’t be myself?

“Don’t try to sleep with her.”

I jerk my eyes to meet his. “Seriously?”

“If you want to fuck her, fuck her. If you want to make her fall in love with you,
don’t
fuck her. It’s that simple.”

“Can’t I do both?” I murmur.

“Not usually. Do you need any money?”

“No, I’m fine.

“You sure?”

He’s like the dad I never had.

“Positive. But thank you. And thanks for the tie.”

I walk toward the door. He calls out to me, “Hey, Bob!”

I open the door and turn back to face him, standing half in and half out.

“You’re valuable, kid,” he says. “Never forget that.”

“I know.” It took me a long time to realize that my thoughts and feelings had worth. But I know it now.

“I’ll see you in a few hours,” he reminds me. He arches a brow at me in question.

I nod. I won’t even try to stay over. Well, I might
try
. But I won’t do it. I like Madison. I really like her.

“You want to borrow my car?” he asks. “You don’t want to mess her hair up on your bike.”

My mouth falls open. Before I can say a word, he tosses his keys in my direction. I’ve never had anyone trust me the way that Phil does. I catch the keys and squeak out a heartfelt thank you, then close the door behind me.

Phil is a crazy asshole at times. When I first met him, when he was taking care of my probation paperwork, he was the biggest dickhead on the face of the planet. He wanted me to be perfect. Then I realized he just wanted me to succeed and things changed. I finally had someone on my team and I’d never had that before. It’s a good feeling to know that you’re cared about. Hell, just being wanted was different. When he asked me if I wanted a place to stay for a little while, I jumped at the chance and haven’t regretted it even once since then.

I get in the car and go to complex A, and look for room 23, and then I knock on the door. The door opens, but it’s not Madison. It’s someone else.

I hold the flowers I brought for her in my hand and fidget. “Hi, is Madison here?”

“Nope,” she says and she smacks her gum.

“Nope?” I repeat like a total dumbass.

“Nope.” She smacks her gum again.

“Do you know where she is?”

She shrugs. “She went dancing with one of the guys in her math class.”

“But…we had a date.”

She laughs. “Oh,
you’re
the one.”

“The one what?”

“The one she caught telling your friends she was
just a girl
and that her name didn’t matter because there were so damn many of them you couldn’t keep them all straight.”

What the hell is she talking about?

“She followed you after you dropped her off that day. She wanted to give you her phone number. But she heard you.”

“And now she’s out on a date? With somebody else?”

She nods and pops her gum again. “Yep.”

“Do you know where?”

“At the club on Main Street. I can’t remember the name of it.”

I turn on my heel and stalk in that direction. I don’t know what bothers me more—that she’s dancing with some random guy or that she stood me up. But I do know what bothers me most. It’s that she heard my stupid comment.

I have to explain it to her. And I have to be sure she’s not kissing some random guy. She’s supposed to be kissing
me
, damn it.

S
kip’s nice
, but he’s not Bob. That much is for sure. He uses his fake ID to get us both a beer, and then we sit down at a table in the corner of the busy bar. Music thumps so loudly from the speakers that he can’t hear a thing I say to him, so I lean in to speak in his ear.

He puts his arm around me and leans toward me—way too close. I scoot back.

“You want to dance?” I yell, because he’s getting a little grabby.

He downs the last of his beer and I do the same with mine, and then he pulls me onto the dance floor.

There’s nothing I love more than dancing. Well, except maybe books, but that has nothing to do with this situation. I love to dance. The beat of the music moves up from the floor, into the toes of my Keds, and up my legs. Skip can’t keep up with me, so I spin and turn around him on the floor. He grabs my hips and tries to pull me close to him, but I came out here to dance, not to have someone grab me and grind against me. Been there. Done that. Don’t want to do it with Skip.

This night could have been so different. It could have been wonderful, if Bob had actually felt for me the same way I was beginning to feel for him. I loved holding on to him on the back of his bike, and he was the perfect mix of tender, sweet, and sexy.

Static zips along my skin all of a sudden, and I turn to search the crowd. I can’t even see him, but I know he’s there. Bob Caster has entered the building.

The song turns to a slow one, and Skip pulls me close to him. His hands encircle my waist and slip beneath my shirt to touch my naked skin. I pull his questing fingers out.

Suddenly, Skip is gone, and he’s lying on the floor. I look up to find Bob staring down at me, his chest heaving. “What the fuck are you doing, Madison?”

“Well, I
was
dancing.”

“It looked more like he was trying to fuck you on the dance floor.”

I snort. “I hate to be the one to tell you, Bob, but fucking is a bit different from that.” I tilt my head at him. “You want me to get you a book on the subject? Because it seems like you are woefully misguided.”

“I don’t need a book,” he mutters. “Why are you here with him?” He jerks a thumb toward Skip, who is being helped up off the floor.

Skip taps Bob on the shoulder, like he wants to repay the favor, and Bob turns his head just enough to growl at him through his clenched teeth. Skip’s face goes white and he backs up, holding up two hands.

“No problem, buddy. Didn’t know you called dibs.” Skip turns and walks off the dance floor.

“He didn’t call dibs!” I yell to Skip, but he doesn’t come back.

“I
did
call dibs. I
do
call dibs. I
will
call dibs.” He grabs my hand and pulls me toward the exit.

“I don’t accept your dibs!” I cry. I dig my heels in and he turns back to face me.

Suddenly, he upends me over his shoulder, his arm clamped across the backs of my thighs. I beat on his back, but he pays me no mind. I bend close to him and bite the only thing I can get my teeth into, which just happens to be the tender skin just over his left butt cheek.

“I like it rough, sweetheart,” he says.

This time, I put some heat behind my teeth and really nail him. His butt flinches.

“Rough enough for you,
sweetheart?
” I ask between bounces of my body.

And then we’re outside. He flips me over and sets me on the hood of a red Ford. He holds my face in his hands and stares into my eyes. “I’ll take whatever I can get from you,” he says.

My heart stutters.
Th-thud. Th-thud. Th-thud
.

“What do you want?”

He spreads my thighs so he can stand between them. “You.”

“
Me?
” I squeak.

He grabs my bottom and yanks me closer to him. “Yes.
You
.”

“But I’m
just a girl
. And there are so many of them crawling after you that you can’t keep all the names straight.” Tears sting my eyes and I blink them back.

He looks at me quizzically. “I hurt you,” he says softly.

My nose is starting to run, so I sniffle. “No, you didn’t.”

“I did. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean what I said.”

Sniffle. “Then why did you say it?”

“Because those assholes were asking questions about you and I didn’t want to tell them anything, so I downplayed it. I didn’t want them all sniffing around you. You’re too important.”

“You just met me yesterday,” I remind him.

“And you’re all I’ve thought about ever since.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he says. His lips hover over mine, so close that we’re sharing breaths, but he doesn’t kiss me. My blood thrums in my veins. “I can’t believe you stood me up. I showed up with flowers, wearing a tie, and driving a car I borrowed, just to impress you.”

“I don’t need all that stuff. I just need you.”

“Who am I?” he asks. His blue eyes look deeply into mine.

“You’re everything,” I breathe.

Then his lips touch mine. My belly drops and my breath stops as he licks across my lips, begging them silently to part. His tongue enters my mouth, licking into me, filling me up with him. He moans against me, and grabs my bottom, pulling me closer to him, his hardness pressing insistently against my softness. I hold onto his shirt the way I did when we were on his bike.

Suddenly, a cold voice slices through the air. “Madison!”

Bob’s head jerks up and he steps back three paces from me, and all the warmth that was him is suddenly gone.

“Dad!” I cry. My father steps between me and Bob. “What are you doing here?”

“Skip called me.”

Skip and I grew up together. The traitor.

“Skip said some ex-convict was carrying you out of the bar over his shoulder.” He looks from Bob to me and back again. “Is that true?”

“I can explain, sir,” Bob begins, but my dad shoots him a look.

“Why do you look so familiar to me?” Dad asks him.

“We met in the courtroom, sir.”

“What’s your name?”

“Bob Caster, sir.”

Dad’s eyes narrow. “One of Phil’s boys?”

“Yes, sir.” Bob scratches his nose like he’s suddenly uncomfortable.

“Why are you with my daughter?”

“We’re on a date, sir.”

“One that ends with you throwing her over you shoulder?”

“That’s actually how it
starts
, sir.”

A chuckle bursts from my lips and I cover my mouth to keep it in. “Sorry,” I mutter.

“Madison, get in the car.” Dad points to his fancy car, which is parked right behind the one I’m sitting on.

“With all due respect, sir, I’d like to take her home.”

“If you had any respect for my daughter, you wouldn’t have been all over her on the hood of a car in the middle of the street.”

“It was just a kiss, Dad—”

“It looked like more than that.”

“It was,” Bob interjects. His eyes meet mine. “It
was
more than that.”

“What was it?” I whisper, past the lump that’s suddenly clogging my throat.

“More,” Bob says. “I don’t know how to explain it. But it was more.”

“More than you deserve,” Dad snaps. “My daughter will not have a relationship with an ex-convict.”

Bob takes a step back and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I understand, sir,” he says. “Good night, Madison.”

“Don’t go!” I cry. He rounds the front of his car and gets inside. He cranks it and waits for me to get my butt off it.

“You deserve better than him, Madison,” Dad says.

I get off the hood of the car and glare at him. “Dad!”

“Get in the car, Madison!” he shouts. He points his finger in the direction he wants me to go.

I stomp over to the car and get in, and my heart breaks when I see that Bob is already driving away. His eyes meet mine briefly in his mirror and I see a world of hurt inside him.

“I’m not going to my apartment, Dad,” I tell him.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

Dad heaves a sigh. “What do you want, Madison?”

“I want to get to know him, Dad. That’s all. I like him a lot.”

“I could tell,” he grunts. “He’s not the one for you.”

How do I explain to my dad how lonely I have been since starting college? How do I explain to him how much time I spend in my apartment all by myself? How do I explain how good Bob makes me feel, even if I just met him? I owe it to myself to find out where it’s going, and I’m afraid that if I don’t declare my intentions now, I’ll never get a chance to.

“I want to talk to him,” I say.

Dad heaves a sigh. “I’m not going to be able to change your mind, am I?”

I shake my head. “No.”

He takes some twisty-turny streets and I realize that I have no idea where we are. “Where are we going?”

“His parole officer and I play golf.” He shrugs.

“And?” I glare at him.

“And he’s had a lot to say about that kid.”

“Like what?”

“Like how he’s turned his life around. He has a job, and he’s getting an education, and he plans to dedicate his life to helping kids who got a poor start, just like him.”

“What if it’s
me
who’s not worthy of
him
, Dad?” I whisper.

He stops in front of a small house on a cul-de-sac and I see the car Bob was driving in the driveway. He’s home.

“You’re worthy of everything, Madison.”

“Why did you bring me here, Dad?”

“Because of that look in your eyes, Madison… I haven’t seen it in a long time. And I screwed it up for you tonight by sticking my big nose in. If your mother were here, she’d string me up by my b–“ He stutters to a stop. “Man parts.”

I laugh. “You can say
balls
, Dad.”

He glares at me. “Don’t push me, Madison.” He heaves a sigh. “I’m going to stay right here until you don’t need me anymore.” He motions toward the house. “Go talk to him.”

“Really?”

He nods. “Really.” He clears his throat. “I don’t think that boy has ever had anyone fight for him, Madison. If he’s what you want, fight for him.”

I get out of the car with a giddy heart. “Thanks, Dad,” I lean back in to tell him.

“I’ll wait here. Go.”

I walk to the door on shaky feet. Just as I lift my hand to knock, the door flies open. A man looks at me, his eyes sweeping from the top of my head to the bottoms of my feet, but not in a creepy way. It’s an
I’ll figure you out
way.

“Hi, Madison,” he says, and he smiles at me. He sticks out his hand. “Nice to meet you. Phil,” he says by way of introduction.

“Nice to meet you too.” I look around his shoulder. “I’m sorry to bother you, but would it be possible to speak with Bob?”

He turns to face the living room and bellows at the top of his lungs. “Bob!”

Bob sticks his head out of his room and does a double take. “What are you doing here?”

I jerk my thumb toward the driveway. “My dad brought me.”

Phil looks around me and grins. “Your dad’s here?” He starts in that direction.

“Where are you going?” Bob calls to his retreating back.

“Going to take Madison’s dad for a beer!” he calls back. He gets in the car with Dad and they leave me standing in the doorway.

“Can I come in?” I ask.

“No.”

My belly drops. “No?”

He shakes his head. “No.”

“Please.”

He shakes his head again, but he’s looking a little chagrined. “You should go.”

“I’m not leaving.”

He shrugs. “Fine. Suit yourself.” He closes the door in my face.

I stand there on the stoop, not sure what to do with myself. Dad left with Phil, and I don’t have another ride. I sit down on the top step.

A gentle drizzle begins to fall. I pull my knees up to my chest and scoot back under the overhang, but it’s not enough. I’m getting soaked.

The door opens. “Jesus Christ, Madison. Are you seriously going to sit there in the rain?”

My teeth are starting to chatter. “Just until my dad gets back. Then I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Get in here,” he snarls.

“No, I’m fine right here.”

“Is this what life with you is going to be like? You declining every time I make a suggestion and me having to force you into it?” He hooks an arm beneath my knees and one behind my shoulders and scoops me up. “Jesus, you’re a lot of trouble,” he mutters to himself as he carries me to his room. “You’re soaked,” he says. He holds out a clean t-shirt and a soft pair of gym shorts. “Go put these on,” he demands. He points to the bathroom.

Instead, I turn my back and pull my shirt over my head. He hisses out a breath.

“Madison,” he growls. I pull the t-shirt down over my head and turn back to face him.

“What?” I ask.

He picks up a pillow, sits down in a chair, and shoves it into his lap. “That wasn’t very nice.”

I unbutton my pants and push them down over my hips. He sucks in a breath and looks the other way. “I’m really sorry about what my dad said.”

“It was all true. I’m not worthy. Not of someone like you.” He shrugs. “If I had a daughter, I would feel the same way.”

“He knows you’re better than your past,” I tell him. I sit down on the edge of the bed. I don’t even bother putting on the shorts because his shirt falls almost to my knees.

“I’m not.”

“You’re not what?”

“Better than my past. My past will always be with me.”

“Why did you go to jail?” I scoot backwards so that my back is against his headboard.

He groans and shoves a hand through his hair. Then he starts to talk.

“I had a friend who was mentally challenged. And I walked up on a group of guys harassing him one day. They didn’t stop, even after I warned them, and I couldn’t let them think it was all right. So I sucker-punched the biggest one in the group.” He flexes his fingers. “Broke my hand, but it was worth it.” He heaves a sigh. “Anyway, I broke his nose and his parents filed charges. I did it.” He shrugs. “I did my time. Thirty days.”

“Would you do it again?”

He nods. “Probably.”

“Good. I would too.”

He chuckles. “You probably would.” He narrows his eyes at me. “Why did you stand me up?”

I shrug. “My feelings were really hurt.” I look at what he’s wearing. “Why did you take off your tie?”