Her Christmas SEAL (When SEALs Come Home Book 7) (6 page)

Or temporary lust.

With a
place.
Strong was the cutest little mountain town I’d ever seen. Its one art gallery wasn’t hiring—so Fate clearly still wasn’t interested in my requests—but I’d lucked into the job at the Christmas tree farm, and I’d spent the last six weeks being… happy. Since my job included free rent, I could sock away a little money, and I’d bookmarked the online application for CSU Sacramento. I couldn’t officially apply until next November, but darn it, I’d be ready. My art gallery might not happen today, but I’d earn my degree and the grand opening would happen on one of my tomorrows. The soonest tomorrow I could manage, in fact.

My rescue cat bumped against my ankles. Frances was a big tabby cat with a kinked-up tail. When I ran my fingers up the scruffy length, the bones formed a vee I could feel and that waved in the air like a permanent question mark wherever she went.

Probably too much inbreeding, but she was all mine. Or I was hers. She’d claimed my cabin before I had and had graciously agreed to allow me squatter’s rights as long as I kept her in Fancy Feast and kitty chow. The way her sides bulged, it would be raining kittens soon. I tossed my purse on the bed and got down to the business of feeding her.

“No babies yet?” I bent down to pet her. She meeped back and then continued to keep up her end of the conversation while I got out the cat food.

While the cat ate and my Lean Cuisine heated up in the microwave, I flicked through the mail. I’d merited a Victoria’s Secret catalog full of stuff I couldn’t afford, a reminder from my dentist that I had a date with her in another month, and yet another postcard from my ex. For some reason, the man believed we should stay in touch. I don’t know if he genuinely missed me, if he’d read somewhere that he should be friendly, or if he was just as oblivious post divorce as he had been midmarriage, but he really should consider moving to outer Mongolia, and I was downright shocked his new honey hadn’t cut off his post office privileges. The postcard he’d sent featured two Santa-hat-wearing pink pigs kissing beneath a measly sprig of mistletoe. The photo either contained a coded message in Guy, or it was the first card he’d grabbed. Both possibilities were equally likely.
Thinking of you
he’d scrawled on the back.

I shook my head, flipping the card back over. Being the first thing that came to mind when he saw fat pigs kissing wasn’t precisely flattering.

“You think we should give him another chance?” I asked Frances.

The cat looked up, gave me the Cat Look, and then turned her attention back to her dinner. She was eating for two—or six—after all. Her opinion about my ex was also perfectly clear—and dead-on accurate.

“You’re right. We’ve definitely moved on.”

And possibly upgraded. I thumbed the photo app open on my phone. I wasn’t much of a photographer, but my picture of Jacks was definitely a keeper. The man hung there in the pine tree like some kind of Chippendales Christmas ornament. The expression on his face was part mischief, part frustration, and I’d regretted returning his knife ever since. If he’d stripped down, my photos—and my memories—would have been even better. Kind of like supersizing at the fast-food drive—those were calories I didn’t need, but oh the instant gratification…

“Remind me again that I’m done with men,” I told the cat.

Frances looked at me and waddled toward her box. At the vet’s suggestion, I’d fixed a box for her to nest in, lined with some of my old T-shirts. Frances should be able to handle the birth on her own, the vet had assured me, but she’d be happier doing it somewhere cozy and protected.

I was feeling pretty cozy myself by the time I dropped onto the bed and got comfortable. Except for the Christmas tree lights on the tabletop tree, my place was dark, but the tree lights cycled through red, green and blue with manic cheerfulness, and even played optional Christmas carols. I was a lucky girl.

Jacks had put his number in my phone.

I wasn’t a dating virgin—or any kind of a virgin—but I wasn’t sure why he’d done that. He’d done plenty of incomprehensible things over the years I’d known him, but he’d never offered to take care of me before. Did I look that vulnerable and needy? Did I have the date of the last time I’d had sex tattooed on my forehead?

Shoot.

No more men didn’t mean no more orgasms. We both knew that. Honestly, the orgasms were better when I was in charge of them anyhow. Things had gotten way too rote with my ex even before I’d learned about the cheating and his divided attention. I took care of me now, and that was so much better.

I leaned back against the pillows, dragging a throw blanket over my legs. It was dark and I was alone, so it wasn’t as if anyone could see, but… yeah. I ran my hand down my belly, sliding my fingers beneath the waistband of my pajama pants. My fingers were smooth, not rough, but I’d make do. I didn’t need Jacks and his Magic Penis to enjoy myself.

I was too lazy to get up and grab one of my favorite paperbacks, so I flipped through my mental fantasy Rolodex and then decided to go with the real-life model. Jacks never needed to know I’d rubbed one out thinking about him, so no harm, no foul. Hell, I even had a picture. Two quick swipes later and his face grinned at me from my cell phone screen. God, he was such trouble.

I could call him. He’d probably come over too. He’d give me the real thing. He’d get in my bed with me, and he’d be amazing. Some guys were all talk, but I knew instinctively that Jacks was the real deal. He’d put me first, make me come, and then he’d ruin me for normal guys. Shouldn’t happen, but it would. I’d wondered about him in high school, sure, but then I’d met Mark and Mark had been The One. Being older, wiser, and way more broke and alone now, I knew better.

I’d been Mark’s The One for a month, possibly a year. I’d given myself to him entirely, planning our future and living for him. With him. While he’d been busy running around my back and screwing other women. I hadn’t even questioned his “work” absences because I’d trusted him. Being alone so many nights of the week had sucked, but I’d appreciated his desire to earn a paycheck and a home.

I’d been so fucking stupid.

Jacks’s face teased me from my phone. Calling him was a mistake I wouldn’t be making, but the man owed me an orgasm. I pushed my fingers against my panties and imagined those were Jacks’s fingers. Down. Then back up. A little firmer, a little deeper. The cotton rubbed against my clit and I pressed harder, a moan breaking from my throat as I shifted. Since I was alone, I got the whole goddamned bed and an orgasm for one.

JACKS

My phone vibrated and I checked the incoming number automatically.
Holly.
I’d grabbed her number from her phone and programmed it into mine, but I hadn’t expected her to call me so soon as it had only been two days since I’d visited the Christmas tree lot. Apparently, my plan was better than I thought.

I answered the phone. “Give me a sec,” I said. Chatting up my girl in the middle of the hanger, surrounded by my team, wasn’t a challenge. That part was a disaster waiting to happen. Someone would say something, and I didn’t feel like making a public spectacle of myself. This thing with Holly was too new.

Too special.

And so what if I didn’t like to share my toys—or my heart? Holly didn’t say anything—just made some rustling noises that were sexy as hell because they made me think of her, naked and waiting for me in some movieworthy four-poster bed with silk sheets—so I grabbed my stuff and headed for my truck. The smoke jumper team had spent the day running practice drills and fixing gear. It had been a good day, but not the most exciting one. I loved my guys, but I was ready for a change of scenery. I had no idea what Holly wanted, but she wasn’t the kind of person who just picked up the phone to chat.

“I’m all yours,” I said—to nothing.

Holly didn’t speak—and she didn’t hang up. There was just silence from the end of the phone, which was weird. Then a breathy whimper whispered down the line. Clothing rustled, followed by another whimper. Holy. Shit. She was going to come—and I was about to miss it.

“Gotta go,” I said to no one and nothing, and sprinted for my truck. Putting the phone on mute, I tossed it on the dashboard and drove to the sounds of Holly’s little sighs and gasps. Girl wasn’t a screamer, but she was sexy as hell. Probably why I got to Lucky Paws Christmas Tree Farm in record time too. It was a damned good thing Sheriff Hernandez wasn’t patrolling the highway because the woman frowned on flying trucks, and she lived to pass out speeding tickets to the smoke jumpers. It would have been worth every penny though. I had no idea how long it took Holly to come, but I wanted to be there when she went off.

When I pulled into the farm, the place was mostly dark. It wasn’t terribly secure either—nothing stopping me from driving in and doing whatever. The only illumination came from a boatload of flashing Christmas tree lights and an inflatable twenty-foot Santa who listed to one side as the air leaked out of him. After the chaos of the tree seekers, it all seemed relatively calm. Kinda peaceful too, the lights blink-blink-blinking away in a regular pattern. It was spitting snow, which was an improvement over the morning’s rain that had just turned the snow into wet slush. I didn’t like the thought of Holly out in it.

Her POS car was parked in front of the furthest cabin. I probably should have brought flowers or beer. Something. Instead, I was empty-handed. All I had was myself—and from what I’d heard on my phone, she didn’t think she needed me. It was a challenge I could work with though.

I knocked on the door, phone pressed to my ear.

“Shit,” she mumbled and froze. Sheets rustled and I grinned. She could pretend all she wanted that no one was knocking on her door, but she was so busted. Guess that answered the question of whether or not she knew she’d called me with a big, fat
hell, no
.

“Holly,” I crooned into the phone. I knocked on the door again. “You called. I came.”

The continued silence told me she must have figured out she’d butt-dialed me or whatever it was she’d done. Her scrabbling for her phone about deafened me. There was a loud click and a new kind of silence. I knocked again. She didn’t get off that easily.

Footsteps pounded towards the door. It was cute how pissed off she got. Not like she had a whole lot of runway to work with, judging by the size of the cabin, but she gave the effort one hundred percent.

The door flew open. “What?” she demanded, hands on hips.

I gave her a once-over. Christ, she was cute. She wore plaid pajama pants, a thin white cami, and the pom-pom hat. A bright pink blush painted her face, but apparently she’d decided to play this off as
nothing happening here, move along.

“Let me in.” I leaned against the door, inserting my boot so she couldn’t slam it on me.

“Did I invite you to come over?” Her blush got brighter.

I waved the phone at her. “I heard my name. At least twice. Plus
you
called
me
.”

I looked over her shoulder. The cabin was dark, except for more of those damned Christmas tree lights. Lucky must buy them by the truckload. I could just make out the postcards, bumper stickers, and other souvenirs plastering the wall. It looked like a souvenir stand had mated with the better part of a pine forest, and her space heater was definitely a fire hazard. She needed a better place, a better life. What she didn’t need was me.

Except… yeah, I couldn’t stop the grin from curling my mouth.

“I’m better than BOB, but I’m a fair guy.” I promised her. “I’ll let you do a side-by-side comparison.”

HOLLY

The itty-bitty piece of concrete in front of my door certainly didn’t qualify as a
porch
. One good push, and Jacks would fall off. Except I didn’t want to push him away—I wanted to pull him close, closer, closest. Let any falling he did be for me. Crazy. That’s what I was.

Heat.

Desire.

Need.

It was that last one I had a problem with. I was independent and loving it. It wasn’t like it had been so very long since I’d had sex—even if my girl parts begged to disagree—but I didn’t do need. Not anymore.