Goodbye Secrets (The Lost & Found Series book #2) (47 page)

“I already cut the bread intp halves. We just need to put the garlic butter on and get them in the oven.” She points to the bread.
Guess I’ll do that ... since she’s pointing and all!

“Can I help with anything?” Stacey pipes up. I turn and take in the sight of her. She’s looking well ... more like herself.

“Do you want to help me with the bread?” I pull out the garlic butter.

“Sure, Becs.” She pulls up a stool to sit at the island, then grabs the tub of garlic butter out of my hands and pulls the plastic seal off. I offer her a butter knife.

“Thanks.” She takes it, then reaches out and squeezes my hand quickly. “Merry Christmas, Becca. I’m sorry.” Her eyes fill up. I cover her hand with mine.

“Merry Christmas.” I squeeze her hand back. We finish up, and I have Melissa call everyone to dinner.

The dining room is buzzing with thirty-two people. From the looks of it, everyone is enjoying themselves and the meal.

“People watching, sweetheart?” Grayson asks, and nudges me. I smile up at him. He knows that I do this quite often to take everything in. I look back down at my plate and fight the urge to think about the McNeils, what they’re up to, and how Ray is handling our first Christmas apart. Usually when something is bothering him, he’s pretty quiet at mealtime—either rushing or barely focusing. He’ll smile through small talk, but mostly he’ll stare at his glass of whatever he’s drinking.

“Mom!” Morgan yells, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“What? Sorry.” I shake my head.

“Where were you?” she asks.

“I know exactly where she was.” Grayson’s nose is flaring. I place my hand on his leg to say sorry, but he grabs it and whips it off.

“I was saying we should call Susanna and Sam after dinner, Mom.”

“Yes, absolutely!” I agree cheerfully.

“Becca, everything tastes incredible.” Stacey sits down with her second helping.

“Thanks! I agree. It’s been a while since I’ve had something incredible in my mouth.” I say, keeping my face straight and nudging Grayson.

“Shut up!” He tries to be stern, but a smile breaks through the barrier. He finds my knee and squeezes gently. I lean my head on his shoulder.

“I can’t wait to give you your gifts tonight.” I pat the top of his hand.

“Yes, I can’t wait either.” He kisses my forehead.

Cleaning up would be more of a breeze if there weren’t thirty people trying to help me!

“Less is more, people!” I announce. “I appreciate all the help, but it may go smoother if we split into two teams! Half of you help with dinner, and the other half can do dessert. That way, we’re not all on top of each other,” I say. Everyone makes a quick decision and half of the room retires elsewhere, while the rest of us clean up and get ready for dessert.

“Becca, it’s for you.” Claudia hands me the phone. It must be my aunt and uncle. Shit, I usually call them in the morning.

“Merry Christmas!” I answer.

“How was dinner, baby?” It’s Ray.
Shit!

“I ... I can’t really talk right now.” I look around, searching for Grayson.

“Becs, baby, please ... I can’t do this. This is too hard.”

I can hear the pain in his voice.

“I’ll see you before I leave.” I try to keep calm.

“I won’t let you leave!” he snaps. Grayson pulls the phone away from me.

“Goodbye, Raymond!” he yells, and hangs up.

“Grayson, I didn’t know it was him.” I grab his arms.

“I know. Just ... forget it.” He throws the phone onto the counter. “Come now, we’re all getting cozy for a movie.” He takes my hands.

“What movie?” I walk with him and ignore the ringing phone.

“
White Christmas
, I believe.”

“Oh, Stacey must’ve picked it. That’s her favorite.” We head to the lounge. Stacey saved two seats next to her on the couch.

“Hey,” she says, and leans over to whisper in my ear. “Ray is blowing up my phone. What do you want me to do?” At that moment, I realize my best friend is truly back.

“Tell him I said to
bugger off
!” Grayson says angrily.

“What do you have—bionic ears?” Stacey asks him.

“Yeah, something like that.” He sighs and puts his arm around me. I shrug my shoulders at her and she begins to text Ray. She shows Grayson, then turns her phone off and puts it aside when he nods. I guess she’s back on Team Grayson. Or, maybe she’s just back on Team Becca, the only team she should be on. We all sit back and watch the movie. Of course, Stacey and I lip-synch the words to “Sisters.” We haven’t done that in a long time!

Before we know it, Bing Crosby is singing “White Christmas.” I get up and go to the kitchen to turn the coffee on and get the cold stuff out of the fridge. Grayson walks in a few minutes later and scans the room.

“What’s the matter?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he murmurs, giving me a half smile. I continue to look at him curiously. “What can I help you with, love?” He stands over the desserts, waiting for my orders.

“Um, take that tray and set it out on the buffet. I’ll grab this one.” I load it into his arms and grab the other. We head out to the dining room and the “Dessert Crew” jump into action. I’m actually glad there are so many people here, or I would be getting ridiculous with all this dessert!

It’s seven o’clock and I’m ready to go into a food coma. Ray and I usually nap between dinner and dessert. Not on purpose, but we always fall asleep on the couch. That didn’t happen this year. No Ray ... no nap.

“Tired, sweetheart?” Gray wraps his arms around me from behind. I yawn and nod at the same time. “Aunt Hazel, will you make sure Morgan gets into bed? We’re going to retire early.”

“I’ll take care of her,” Stacey offers.

“Thanks, Stace.” I hug her before I give Morgan a kiss. We say good night to everyone else and head toward the stairs. Grayson hooks my arm around his neck and picks me up to carry me up them. “Gray.” I laugh. “Put me down.”

“Nope, I intend on pampering you tonight, sweetheart.” He kisses my lips and carries on.

“Well, you won’t be able to do this much longer.” I smirk and pat my belly.

“I know.” He sighs with a hint of sadness.

“What is it, baby?” I touch his cheek.

“Nothing, Becca.” He puts me down and launches into his usual grumbles over having to always unlock our bedroom door. We should be in a normal house, not living at the inn.

“Two more days, baby, and we’ll be back at the ranch. You won’t have to unlock our bedroom door—unless you piss me off, of course.” I rub his back and pat at it as he walks in.

“Bath, darling?” He turns to me and closes the door behind us.

“Nah, not tonight.” I shake my head.

“Well then, let’s get comfy and open gifts, shall we?” He clasps his hands together.

“Sounds like a plan.” I go to my PJ drawer.

“Uh, I’ll pick it out, thank you very much.” He pushes me to the side gently.

“I thought you said
comfy
.” I bite my smile back.

“Yes, not
frumpy
, dear.” He opens the drawer. I shrug and go to retrieve his special, just-between-us Christmas Eve gifts. When I look back, I notice he’s picked a camisole and shorts for me.

“Gray, those are for summer.”

“Honestly, sweetheart, within an hour ... you’ll be in far less than this.” He tugs at the hem of my shirt. I lay his gifts on the bed and raise my arms so he can pull my shirt up and over my head. He slides his hands down my shoulders to my upper chest, then covers my breasts before reaching around back to unhook my bra. “I think you’ll be quite warm in this for now, seeing as you’re already getting overheated.” A slow, sexy smirk crosses his lips and I take notice of my erratic breathing.
Damn it!
He tosses my bra to the side. With his fingers, he traces the area just above the waist of my jeans. I close my eyes, intoxicated by his touch. I feel the tug of my button and hear him undoing my zipper. I open my eyes to find him kneeling in front of me. His hands hook under my jeans and panties and he slides them down. I hold onto his shoulders to brace myself as I step out of them.

“You are so very lovely, sweetheart.” He sits back on his heels to admire me, then leans forward again to caress my growing belly with his lips.

“Did you just make yourself sound extra British?” I giggle.

“I’m pulling out all of the stops tonight, darling.” He chuckles at himself as well. “Come now. Let’s get you dressed so I can do this again in a bit.” He holds out my shorts. I step in and match his smile as he pulls them up. He stands and grabs my camisole. I lift my arms, and he slides it on. “There you are, baby.” He chucks my chin and plants a swift kiss on my lips.

“Your turn.” I grab his shirt and pull it over his head. I run my hands up his chest as I leave a trail of kisses along his sternum. I trace the outline of his abdominal muscles with my index finger and rest my other hand on his belt buckle. “Hmm ... feeling overheated, baby?” I tease as his breathing also shifts.

“Always, sweetheart, whenever you’re around me.” He palms my cheek, his thumbs caressing it as he pulls my face to his. “Becca,” he whispers before his lips find mine.

“Patience, Mr. James.” I pull back and unhook his belt. He tries to steady his breathing. After I work at his zipper, I guide his jeans down at the same pace that he guided mine. “Hmm.” I graze my knuckles over the bulging area of his boxer briefs. “I think something incredible may be happening here, Mr. James.”

“Becca, sweetheart, I think I should finish here or we will never get to other things.” He moves my hand away. I plop onto the bed and watch him, delighted with myself and the effect I have on him, as he walks over to his drawer and grabs PJ bottoms. “Now,” he practically jumps onto the bed, “who shall go first?” He looks at the gifts eagerly. He couldn’t hide his curiosity and excitement if he tried!

“Um, well, this has to be last.” I hold up the small box.

“Hmm, great things come in small packages.” He tries to grab it, but I’m prepared and am much quicker.

“No, no ... be patient!” I wave my finger at him and place the package behind my back.

“All right, which can I have first, then?” He holds up the two other packages.

“Open that one.” I smile. He puts the wrapped album down and begins to unwrap the clothing box.

“This better not be a tie, sweetheart,” he teases. He yanks the top off, digs beneath the tissue paper, and goes into hysterics. “You’re bloody fucking mad!” He laughs as he pulls his torn purple pants out of the box. He stands up and holds them to himself. “Did they come like this, or did you do it?”

I roll my eyes in response.

“Who the fuck would buy those like that ... on purpose?”

“Sweetheart, who the fuck would buy purple pants on purpose at all?”

We are both in stitches. He pulls his PJs off and slips into the purple jeans.

“Oh God!” I laugh and get up to run to the bathroom—surely I would almost be pissing my pants even if I wasn’t pregnant!

“How did you get these?” he yells.

“Melissa picked them up for me,” I say as I come out of the bathroom. “And then proceeded to tell me we were fucking weird when I started cutting them.” I finally get my giggle under control.

“Well, I don’t know how you are going to top this, you clever, funny girl.” He kisses my forehead aggressively.

“You keeping those on?” I ask, my stupid grin still intact.

“Yes, of course, darling! Let’s see what’s next!” He claps his hands and rubs them in anticipation. I can’t contain my mirthful smile as I hand him the wrapped album. I sit next to him as he unwraps it. “An album,” he announces, as if I didn’t know. It’s made from thick, professional-quality black leather. He opens it and roars again with laughter.

The first 8” x 10” is of me in a short, tightly curled, red-headed wig. I’m wearing a blue tracksuit and tan orthopedic shoes, and holding rounded glasses to the side with the chain in my mouth. Grayson is crying, he’s laughing so hard.

He turns the page and “Shelley” is on a mechanical bull, making an exaggerated “O” face with one arm in the air. In the picture on the opposite side, “Shelley” is walking with her legs far apart, a look of pain on her face. Grayson’s laughter has shifted to a girlish giggle. He wipes his eyes and turns the page. He leaves the book on his lap and falls back in hysterics.

“Oh, Becca, I can’t take anymore!” he practically cries. He sits back up, rubbing his face with his hands. “Sweetheart, you are truly amazing.” He kisses me dramatically, then looks back at the page and begins laughing again.

The new shot is of “Shelley” with a partially unzipped track jacket. She pushes her liver-spotted titties up (it’s makeup, of course). She’s winking and her tongue is flipped out, touching her top lip seductively. In the opposite picture, “Shelley” has her leg up on her walker with her pant leg raised enough to show off her TED stocking as she blows a kiss.

He turns the page. “Shelley” is in a muumuu, pulling the elastic neckline down and making an “oops” face. Next, she’s lying on her side on a shag carpet in her housecoat. She pets the shag carpet with an eyebrow arched suggestively. He turns to the last page to find “Shelley” on her knees, her face exaggerated to look like she’s climaxing and chained glasses bouncing against her liver-spotted titties. Grayson is holding his stomach.