A Davenport Christmas: A Bad Boys Serial Novel (Always With You Book 1) (3 page)

When I reach for his waist, his erection bumps my
wrist.
 
He’s ready again.
 
Always, it seems.
 
The thought sends a pang of anticipation
shooting through my sex.

“You know, her mood is already sour. It won’t be any worse
if she has to wait in the car for a few minutes.”

He raises one brow at me, his lips twitching with
understanding.
 
“We’d probably be
doing her a favor if we make your mood as sanguine as possible.
 
And I’m willing to take one for the
team.
 
You know,
pound
you into a better state of mind.”

“If you look at it that way, it’s our duty to do this again.
 
For her.
 
For Christmas.”

“Our duty. For Christmas,” he says.

I start to respond, but
the words are
muffled by his mouth
.

CHAPTER SIX- CASH

The taste of my wife’s luscious body is still lingering on
my tongue as I make my way to the club’s double front doors. I’m smiling when I
unlock one side.
 
Even seeing my
mother-in-law’s scrunched up face awaiting me does nothing to ruin my mood.
 

I’d never give this woman a passing thought if it weren’t
for Olivia, but what bothers
her
bothers
me.
 
And Olivia’s mother bothers her.
 
A
helluva
lot.
 
Tracey never misses the
chance to take shots at Olivia. She’s like a grumpy dog nipping at her
daughter’s heels. I don’t care that she doesn’t approve of me, but being so
vocal about it–and about every other damn thing that she doesn’t like
about the world–hurts Olivia.
 
And
that
pisses me
off .

“Ma’am,” I say, nodding stiffly as I step back from the door
to give her room to enter.
 
She does
so, her haughty head held high. She passes me in a wash of expensive perfume
,
 
followed
closely by her weak-as-dishwater husband.

When he passes, he nods and I nod. I extend a hand, which he
takes.
 
I wonder sometimes if he’s
as miserable as I picture him to be.
 
Probably not since he stays with her, but I could be wrong.
 
I don’t even pretend to understand the
dynamic of couples like this.

“Where’s my daughter?” she asks in her Ice Queen way.

“She’s getting ready.
 
She’ll be out shortly.
 
Can I
offer you a drink while you wait?”
 
I almost choke on the words.
 
I’d much rather be offering her a cement ankle bracelet and a dive off a
tall, tall bridge.

“Vodka tonic.
 
Lyle will have the same,” she says, handing me her light coat.

My smile is tight as I take it. I turn and head for the bar,
rounding it and laying her coat on the back counter.
 
For a second, I’m tempted to dump the
damn thing on the floor and stomp on it as I pour their drinks. But I
don’t.
 
Because Olivia means more to
me than her mother (and that bitch’s feelings toward me) ever will.

I haven’t even finished pouring three stiff drinks yet when
another knock sounds at the door.
 

What the hell?

Before I can get out from behind the bar to answer it, Olivia’s
mother does.
 
I see her body
language change and I know before he comes into sight
who
has arrived.

Olivia’s father, Darrin.

Lyle gets up and walks to his wife, putting his hand at her
waist in a show of support.
 
They
both take a step back and then I see Darrin.
 
He nods to Lyle and to his ex-wife, his
expression polite but strained.
 

“Lyle.
 
Tracey.”
 
It’s obvious he can’t wait to get away,
so when he spots me standing behind the bar, he doesn’t waste any time getting
to me.
 

I smile when he takes a stool and says, “Whatever you’re
making, make one more.”
 
I smother a
laugh when he widens and then rolls his eyes.
 

“You got it.”

Before I can ask why he’s already here, he offers an
explanation.
 
“Thought I’d come
early and help
Livie
get things in order, but…
”
 
He glances at
his ex-wife in the mirror over my shoulder and shudders.
 
“I see help has arrived.”

I snort.
 
Help my
ass!
 
“Yeah. If that’s what you call
it.”

We both smile this time and I’m glad for my father-in-law’s
sake that he got away from that woman.

I hear a strangled gasp and look back at Olivia’s mother
where she’s holding a hand over her chest.
 
She was obviously still standing right in front of the door when my
manager, Gavin, opened it using his key. Must’ve scared the shit out of her.

That’s enough to make me feel a little better.

Gavin is closes the door behind him, his expression downright
comical as eyes her warily.
 
He,
too, immediately makes his way to the bar.

“What are we having?” he asks, sliding onto the stool beside
Darrin’s.
 

“Vodka tonic,” I say, setting out another glass.

“Make it a double for me.
 
That is one mighty bitch,” he says, just
like he says practically every time he’s around Olivia’s mother.
 
And I couldn’t agree more.

“I didn’t realize my daughter was hosting a Christmas dinner
for every hoodlum in Atlanta,” I hear Tracey tell Lyle, her tone just loud
enough for all of us to hear.

Lyle doesn’t bother to rein her in.
 
It’s my father-in-law who does.

“Tracey, don’t start.
 
Olivia has gone to a lot of trouble to—” Darrin begins.

“You never stopped defending her poor choices and look where
it’s gotten her,” she bites waspishly.

Before their snapping can escalate, there’s another knock at
the door.
 
“I’ll get it,” I announce
quickly, figuring it’s probably best for me to greet visitors from here
on.
 
No one was supposed to be
arriving this early, but evidently not a damn one of the people my wife invited
can tell time.
 
“Gavin, can you
finish these up?
 
Make a couple
extra, too.
 
I have a feeling we’re all
gonna
need some help
gettin
’
through this.”

He grins, hoists himself onto the bar and drops down beside
me.
 
“I’ve got it covered, mate,” he
says in his Aussie accent.
 
Nobody
would ever guess my bar manager is about as deadly as the crocodiles his home
is known for.
 
But he is.
 
And then some.

When I open the door this time, I find Marissa, Nash and her
parents on the other side.
 
I
thought Olivia was crazy for inviting so many conflicting personalities to this
dinner, but she’s got it in her head that social gatherings like this can make
us all one big, happy family.
 
I
love her, but I don’t see that happening.
 
I love her optimism, though.
 

“
Every
body’s
early,” I say drolly as I shake my brother’s hand and kiss Marissa on the
cheek. I’m all too aware of her father’s disapproving glare.
 
I just meet his gaze and nod,
“Sir.”
 
And then to his wife,
“Ma’am.”

The least I can do is be polite for a few hours.
 
For Olivia.
 
Anything for Olivia.

I step back and allow them to walk past me, taking Marissa’s
coat as well as her mother’s.
 
“Have
a seat at the table if you’d like.
 
I’m making drinks.
 
Who wants
what?”

Everyone orders something, which is a testament, I’d say, to
the level of general discomfort we all feel.
 
I’m thinking shit-faced is the only way
to do this without bloodshed.

Within ten minutes, Ginger and my father arrive, making the
guest list complete.
 
And nearly a full hour early.
 
The food hasn’t even arrived yet and
Olivia still doesn’t know that anyone other than her mother is out here.
 
Tension seems to be creeping up by the
second and I can hear sharpness in practically every voice in the room.

Yeah, I see disaster
on the horizon.

When everyone is on
their
second
drink, I glance at my watch.
 
“I’m
gonna
go check on Olivia,” I say
to the room at large, not really caring if they hear me or not.
 
Hell, as far as I’m concerned, they can
all just
drink
their Christmas dinner
and then get out.

But Olivia wouldn’t like that.
 
She wants all the people in her life to
get along, at least cordially.
 
Everyone from her mom and dad to her cousin and uncle, she’s determined
to at least try.
 
I admire her
efforts, but I think, in this case, that she’s
batshit
crazy.
 
Of course, I haven’t told
her that. I just kiss her as often as I can and support her in whatever way she
needs. Even if that means being nice to some of the biggest dicks we know.
 

When I find Olivia, she’s in the bathroom putting on makeup.
Her hair is curled and piled up on her head in a sexy style. The little red
flower clips holding it in place look like rubies floating in a sea of
ink.
 
God, she’s beautiful!

She’s not dressed yet and my eyes fall on her bare shoulders.
 
The silky sheen beckons me, her skin
demanding to be touched by my willing hands.

“You look amazing,” I tell her as I press my lips softly to
the scented curve of her neck.
 

“Thank you,” she responds quietly.

When I glance up to meet her eyes, I can see that they’re
red-rimmed despite her makeup.
 
I
grip her arms and turn her toward me.
 
“What is it, baby?
 
What’s
wrong?”

I always feel a mixture of alarm and damnable helplessness
when she cries.
 
I want to take away
her pain, remove anything in her life that might hurt her, but most often it’s
not within my control.
 
I’d kill for
her, beat up the whole world for her, but she’d never let me do that.
 
So all I can do is love her.
 
Hopefully enough to take her mind off
whatever’s bothering her.

Her chin trembles as she pulls her watery emerald eyes up to
mine.
 
“Just holiday jitters.
Nothing to worry about.
 
I
so
want this to go well.”

Her lips say one thing, but I know this woman well enough to
know that while this dinner
might be
making
her a little nervous, that’s not why she’s been crying.
 
But I don’t press her. She’ll tell me
when she’s ready.
 

Until then…

I brush my lips across hers.
 
“It’ll be fine.
 
I love you. They love you.
 
And if they act up, I’ll kick the shit
out of every one of ‘
em
.”

She tries to smile, but it’s a sad effort.
 
“We can’t have that now, can we?
 
Blood spatter on the baby Jesus?
 
Not hardly.
”

I stroke her pouty pink bottom lip.
 
“You’re the only person in the room that
matters to me.
 
I’d forsake all of
humanity for you.”

“I know you would, but let’s hope that’s not
necessary.”
 
Her laugh is anything
but natural.
 
“How’s Mom?”

I shrug.
 
“Same.”

Olivia sighs.
 
“Well maybe she’ll be loosened up and behaving by the time everyone else
gets here.”

“About that…”

She narrows her eyes and drops her voice.
 
She knows me well enough to know what
that means.
 
“Uh-oh.
 
What is it?”

“Everyone’s here.
 
They all came early.”

“Oh shit,” she breathes, closing her eyes.
 
“What was I thinking, trying to pull
this off?”

I skim my thumb over her cheekbone.
 
“You were thinking with your heart, like
you always do.
 
But don’t start
worrying now.
 
This
will
go well.
 
I promise.”

Even as the words are out of my mouth, I’m ready to
decapitate the first person to upset my wife.
 
She’ll have the perfect Christmas dinner
with her family if it’s the last thing I do.

CHAPTER SEVEN- OLIVIA

Cash waits to zip me up and then he takes my hand as we make
our way through his office and out into the bar.
 
The food must’ve just arrived because
Ginger and Marissa are uncovering the last few items that are set out on the
bar, which is my makeshift buffet line.
 
They’re engrossed in quiet conversation, but it seems they’re the
only
ones.
 
Everyone else is engrossed in
conversation, except theirs is loud and antagonistic.
 

I drag my eyes over the red faces, straining neck veins and
pointing fingers and I think to myself that this is already a disaster. It’s already
everything it’s
not
supposed to be
and the night has only just begun.
 

Maybe I don’t have a
family fit for a child,
I think in utter dismay.
Maybe God is doing us all a favor.

Only it doesn’t feel like a favor. It feels like a tragedy
that the love I share with Cash, that the feelings I have for him, can’t
produce a life, a human expression of that love.

My chest gets tight as my mind whirls. I survey the scene
trying to figure out how to fix this.
 

I’m not aware of squeezing Cash’s fingers until he squeezes
mine back and then quickly releases them. He raises his hands to his mouth and
whistles so loudly the room falls into an immediate dead silence.

“Listen up, people because I’m only
gonna
say this once.”
 
He turns to me,
taking my hand again and staring down into my face.
 
“This woman, this beautiful, caring
woman, went to a lot of trouble to make this dinner happen.
 
Why?” he asks, taking his attention back
to them. “Because she loves you. She loves her family and her friends and she
wanted to give us all a chance to celebrate together.”
 
His expression darkens like an ominous
thundercloud.
 
“Personally, I don’t
think most of you deserve to even
know
her, much less be given the chance to ruin her Christmas. But it wasn’t up to
me.
 
I’ll tell you what
is
up to me, though.
 
Who stays and who goes.
 
I’m telling you right now that the next
person to bitch about
anything
is
out!
 
The next person to make a
snide comment…out!
 
And God help the
next person to bring a tear to my wife’s eye. He
or she
will be tossed out on his
or her
ass.
 
Now who
doesn’t understand what I’ve just said?”

Crickets.
 
Nothing but crickets.

Their refusal to argue seems to calm him.
 
When he continues, he’s as pleasant as
if none of that just happened.

“The food smells good and I’m starving, so why don’t we say
the blessing, get something to eat and try to enjoy ourselves?”

There is a lot of nodding and a few sheepish glances left
and right, but not one voice is raised in dissent. I stretch up on my toes and
kiss my husband’s cheek.
 
“I’d be
lost without you.
 
You know that,
right?” I ask him in a whisper.
 

“Lucky for you that you’ll never have to be lost, then.”

Cash wraps his big, strong arms around me and hugs me so
tight I don’t think even the wind could pass between us.
 
It’s the kind of hug that makes me feel
safe and loved, like
like
everything just might be
okay.
 
As long as I have Cash.

Gavin is the first to get up and head for a plate. He pats
Ginger on the ass as he passes her and she turns a cocked, very interested brow
at him.
 
For most women, they’d be
insulted, but I think Gavin knows my friend well enough to know that beating
around the bush isn’t the way to go.

It’s my first of many smiles throughout the rest of the
evening.
 
Surprisingly, despite all
the different personalities, everyone responded well to Cash’s threat.
 
I guess they know it comes from a place
of love.
 
Love for me.
 
And they’re at least decent enough to
respect that.

It’s Christmas, a happy and giving time of year, and
I’m surrounded by the most significant people
in my life.
They may not all be the most loveable, but they’re important to me or my loved
ones in one way or another, and it pleases me to know that we can all swallow
our pride and our prejudices and enjoy a simple dinner together. It gives me
hope for the future.
For our future.
For our baby’s future.

“Tell ‘
em
about what happened the
day after you got back from your honeymoon, Olivia,” Gavin calls from the other
end of the table.
 
His smile is as
wide
as his wink is
mischievous
.
 
I can’t
help laughing.

“Way to put a girl on the spot,” I reply.

“Stand up so we can all hear you,” my father says, adding to
the good-natured ribbing. He knows the story all too well.

Grudgingly, I do. I stand, glancing down at
a beaming
Cash by my side and then out at the relaxed faces
that surround the table.
 
“Well, the
story actually begins on our return trip.
 
Cash and I were–”

The creak of the front door swinging open cuts me off. I
look up to find a beautiful blonde woman standing hesitantly within the frame.

“Hi,” I say into the silence as our eyes meet.
 
“I’m sorry that the door wasn’t locked,
but we’re closed.” I give her my kindest smile and wonder if I should invite
her to sit and eat, although if she came to club, she’d probably refuse.
 

Who clubs on
Christmas?
I wonder absently.

She answers my silent question with an audible one of her
own.

“I-I’m sorry, but I was looking for Cash Davenport. There
was no answer at his apartment and I saw the lights on in here. I thought he
might…”

She trails off when Cash stands.
 
“Sophie?”

I look from Cash’s stricken expression to the intruder’s,
something in my gut clenching with dread.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I…I…”

“What are you doing here?” he asks, stepping away from the
table and walking across the room toward her.
 
“I thought…I thought you were…
”
 
Before he can
reach her, thought, a little girl comes through the door to wrap her arms
around this Sophie woman’s leg.
 
The
child is the spitting image of her mother, with long blonde hair and classic
features.
 
The only difference is
her eyes.
 
Sophie’s eyes are the
brightest of blues.
 
The child’s
eyes are as black as night.
 
A black
that I’m afraid I’m all too familiar with.

“I know. And I’m sorry.
 
I know this is sudden, but I have someone I need to introduce you to,”
Sophie says, her voice low as though she and Cash are the only ones in the
deathly quiet room. There’s an intimacy to the exchange that makes my chest
feel as though it might explode.
 
 

Then, with a tremulous smile, she voices words that cut through
me like a scythe through grass.
 
“This is your daughter, Isabella.”

Don’t worry!
 
There’s more Cash and Olivia to come, beginning in late spring 2015,
when I’ll be publishing serial installments of ALWAYS WITH YOU, the book four in
the Bad Boys series.

The first chapter of POCKETFUL OF SAND, my upcoming
stand alone
, begins now.