A Bad Boy for Christmas (9 page)

Cutter didn’t flare up at her words. Instead he met her gaze squarely, with an apologetic one of his own.

“Cutter, what’s going on?” she asked gently.

“I didn’t know Nash’s mother or what she did here when she was young, but the fact that he’s
her
son isn’t going down well. Not with my mother. My father’s more accepting of the Liza connection.”

“What a guy. Given that he screwed her.”

Temper flared in his eyes but he kept it banked. “You wanted to know why the delay. My father wants to meet Nash. He knows it’s too late to try and be a father to him, but he wants him in our lives. My mother’s not convinced that’s such a good thing. She told my father to head on home without her and she’d continue on her vacation alone.”

Mia frowned and rocked forward on the bench. “Ultimatum. Ouch.”

Cutter shrugged. “My father declined that option. He’s trying to talk her round. And she
will
come around eventually. Maybe if she’d been here when Nash first showed up she would have dealt with it by now. Maybe if this hadn’t been their big thirtieth wedding anniversary holiday she’d be more welcoming.”

“Boy, you really do like to believe the best of people.”

“Mia, they’re my parents.”

Vulnerable
. That was the word she kept circling back to when it came to this man, no matter how apparent his strengths. He wore loyalty to his family like a badge of honor for all to see and she worried for him because of it.

“You’ve never faced this before, have you? Parents who let you down. You’re thirty years old and this is the first time they haven’t stepped up to the mark you set for them.” He looked at her, and she saw from his face that it was true, and she was gentle with him because of it. “I think your parents must be good ones, overall, given the welcome we’ve had from you and your brothers.
You’ve
made room for Nash just fine.”

“I have not,” he said gruffly. “I just keep thinking about the four-year-old kid you told us about rather than the impenetrable bastard who disappears without a word.”

“Right,” she murmured dryly. “No taking ownership of Nash in that little statement at all. When he comes back and you chew him out for not telling you where he was going, can I watch?”

“Always wanting the fireworks,” he said with the glimmer of a smile.

“Yes.” And Cutter was good at providing them. “Nash doesn’t want to cause trouble,” she offered. “So is there anything he can do to make this easier on your parents? Set a time for everyone to meet? Doesn’t have to be the minute they set foot back in Australia. Nash wants to meet his father, of course he does, but he’s not expecting instant acceptance and he sure as hell doesn’t expect anything from your mother. Well, except rejection. That’s just how he’s wired.”

Cutter winced. Mia shrugged.

“Hey, mothers aren’t his area of expertise. They’re not my area of expertise either. We can be guided.”

Cutter said nothing.

“Maybe me and Nash should just pack up and go,” she said next. “Catch up next year some time. Give your parents time to adjust.”

“Or we could make a family decision now and ask you and Nash to stay for Christmas. It’d work. Zoey’s sister will be there. Bree’s parents. There’s room. It’ll be here before we blink and it’s a time for family. My mother could get to know you both without the specter of Liza in her mind. Problem solved.”

“Christmas with family only works if family
want
you there. Trust me on this.”

“
I
want you there,” he said gruffly, and her heart all but rolled over and begged him to keep talking. “You and Nash both.” His gaze skittered to her lips and held. “Although possibly for different reasons.”

Oh. Elephant in the room. “You’re still having trouble with our unfortunate mutual attraction?”

He nodded.

“Me too.” She sighed gustily and let the sentiment hang in the air between them. Never let it be said that she was subtle in her wooing. And she
was
wooing him, wanting him to think the best of her, wanting him to pay attention. He was right about her not being able to stay away from fireworks.

“So.” Cutter looked around the customer-free emporium, possibly for some kind of distraction. There weren’t any. Mia had been looking for one all week. “How’s business?”

“Booming. If you count all the bored teenagers holidaying here with their parents, coming in and talking big about the ink they’re going to get when they’re old enough. Otherwise, it’s been a little slow.”

Silence fell again as he looked around the shop, at Beryl’s designs that covered the best part of one wall.

“Do you have a favorite?” she asked.

“Yeah, but Beryl took it down years ago.”

“What was it?”

“Popeye.”

Right.

“I was twelve, Popeye was big.” He cast his eye over the designs again. “Popeye’s hard to beat.”

“Have you seen the 3D ones? Here.” She turned to her laptop, currently open on the counter beside her, and started scrolling through one of her photo albums.

He leaned in, his shoulder brushing hers, and suddenly the strong cut of his jaw was within kissing range. The cartoon tattoo held his attention for all of five seconds and then he turned her way.

Fireworks. Right there waiting.

His gaze slipped to her mouth and she rocked forward on her elbows, drawn, in spite of everything they’d already said about not doing this.

“We could,” she whispered, and while he didn’t move away he didn’t exactly take her up on her offer either. “Just a little taste.”

“Can’t do it,” he muttered finally.

“Why not?”

“I wouldn’t stop.”

“So we don’t tell anybody.”

He reached up to trace a calloused thumb across her bottom lip and she closed her eyes the better to savor the experience. “I don’t keep secrets like that,” he muttered. “Never ends well.”

“Honorable,” she whimpered.

“Experienced,” he corrected and, given the way his fingers gently moved to track the curve of her cheek, he undoubtedly was.

Wondering what this man would bring to a kiss was driving her nuts.

One kiss—in search of important information—and then she’d stop for both of them.

She slid her hand into his shaggy, silky mop and had he pulled back she would have let him go, no question.

He didn’t pull back.

Instead, with a ragged breath, he kissed her.

He tasted perfect.

And he liked kissing, taking the time to learn the shape of her mouth before delving deeper. He savored
everything
and made her feel wanton within seconds.

Mia didn’t know how long they kissed for. She barely heard the tinkling of the bells above the door that signaled a customer.

“Cutter Jackson, you in here for ink or are you just amusing yourself?”

He pulled back slowly, as if dragging himself out of the moment, and then his forehead hit the counter, giving Mia a lofty view of sun tipped hair framed by muscled forearms.

“No ma’am. Not here for ink.” Even muffled as it was, Mia could hear the strained edge of frustrated passion. “Just here for the torture.”

Mia met Beryl’s bemused gaze and patted him gently on the shoulder. “We still not doing this?” she asked.

“Still not doing it.”

“Because?”

“Family complications.” He stood tall and glared. “You
know
this. We’ve discussed it at length. And apart from all of that, my track record with women is—

“Legendary,” said Beryl.

“Abysmal!” he corrected. “Women love the pretty packaging, they do, and I take full advantage of that. I’d never deny it. But I’ve yet to meet one who can cope with what’s underneath. They keep wanting to
change
me.”

“Inconceivable,” Mia murmured.

He glared at her. “I don’t
want
to change in order to stay in a relationship!”

“No indeed.”

“I am who I am. Overwhelming, underwhelming, frustrating, surly—

“Loveable, hardworking,” interjected Beryl.

“—reckless, impatient, headstrong and, according to some, far too demanding,” he finished. “I’m at my best when I’m at sea or in the water. I work long hours when most other people are tucked up in bed and I get together with my crew on Friday afternoons—and I do mean
every
Friday afternoon. No exceptions!”

“
None
,” said Mia emphatically. “Unless one of your sisters-in-law was giving birth or something and then you’d be there with your brothers, pacing.”

He glared some more and Mia grinned. Watching him unravel really shouldn’t be this entertaining.

“Saturdays are for work again and Sundays are for family,” he continued with two swift chopping motions of his hand. “I
like
my world order. I created it. I don’t
want
to change to fit in with someone else.”

“That would be a sin.” Mia nodded in heartfelt appreciation. “You are magnificent.”

Confusion reigned in his face for about a nanosecond, and then the face of doom enveloped him. “You say that
now
.”

“I
do
. I want it known that on the strength of one kiss I am altogether willing to fit my good self around your schedule for the very short time I have left here. After that I’ll be back in Melbourne and should you ever decide to visit your newfound big brother—on a Sunday, of course—you could call in to see me, at which point I would make every effort to find the nearest body of water and drop you in it. Good times would ensue.”

“Don’t forget the beer,” Beryl murmured.

Mia clicked her fingers and pointed towards Beryl in appreciation of the reminder. “Beer’s in the fridge.”

“Tell him you want advance notice of his visit,” Beryl said with a grin. “Who knows? You might have moved on already.”

“Beryl’s very wise.” Mia nodded. “Advance notice is essential.”

“Beryl, stay out of this,” he warned.

“Just trying to give my girl here a fighting chance at coming out the other end of this deal unscathed.”

“I appreciate it, Beryl.” Mia said warmly. “I always underestimate myself in the face of rampant magnificence.”

“There. Is. No. Deal.” He sounded very certain. “There can
be
no deal. We’re tied by family, you and me. Even if I wanted to start something with you—which I
don’t
—I can’t, because if I picked you up I’d never be able to put you down again without getting lynched. You’re undroppable! Which is why I have no intention of
ever picking you up and disappointing you!
”

He stormed out and tiny bells tinkled as the door closed behind him. Beryl beamed. Mia waved until he was out of sight and then slumped down on the bench, face down, the better to study the wood grain. “I really don’t think he’d disappoint.”

“Boy needs a strong woman, that’s all. Always has.”

“I’m strong.” That was why she was splayed out on the bench after one little kiss.

Beryl cackled. “He’ll test you.”

“Bring it on.”

“He’s running scared,” Beryl said next.

“Good.” So was she. “I need the company.”

*     *     *

Mia
you’re going
to love me
Blake had a habit of getting under Cutter’s skin and staying there. It didn’t help that he adored her brazen approach to just about everything and the playfulness she directed mostly at him. He rose to the bait so beautifully for her; that was the problem.

And then she just reeled him on in.

“How is it,” he said to Caleb as he strode into the boatshed, “that all of a sudden I’m the fish?”

Caleb looked up from the marlin reel he was repairing. “Want to run that one by me again?”

“Mia baits and I bite. I’m the fish.”

Caleb nodded. “Got it. Are they coming marlin fishing with us tomorrow?”

“No. Nash has gone to Melbourne for a couple of days and Mia doesn’t need the practice.”

Caleb’s eyes narrowed. “Nash left?”

“Yes.” And that was the other thing. Cutter had no idea how to feel about that. Did they not warrant a heads-up as to Nash’s plans? Especially now that they were family.

“And Mia still at Beryl’s?” Caleb asked next.

“And propositioning me for a fling. At least, that’s what I think she’s doing.”

“Since when have you
not
been able to tell when a woman’s propositioning you?”

“Since today. I don’t know where she’s coming from. There’s too much at stake to even
think
about going there.”

Caleb snorted. “So you’re thinking about nothing else?”

His brother knew him a little too well. “She’s smart, hot and forbidden. Damn right I’m thinking about nothing else.”

“She’s not
that
forbidden.”

“She’s family.”

“Not really,” Caleb said carefully. “Kind of up to us how we want to fit her in.”

“She’s
family
,” he said firmly.

“Hey, your call, man. You’re the fish.”