No Quarter (NOLA's Own #2) (55 page)

Connor nodded. “You did the right thing.”

“I think so.”

“So…I’m not sure if I’m at all comfortable playing Love Letter, considering it’s about my sister.” He grinned. “I used to think that song was so awesomely fucked up, you know? And knowing now that he wrote that with you in mind…I might need to have a talk with him.”

“They’ve only played it twice in concert that I know of.”

“Let’s convince them to keep it that way.”

I cuddled up to my brother, curving into his side and resting my head on his shoulder. “I’m so happy you’re back.”

He dropped a kiss on top of my head. “Me, too.”

We heard the Black Beauty pulling into the driveway, and the house phone rang. We both got to our feet and headed into the kitchen. Connor grabbed the cordless phone off the jack, and I pulled on my light corduroy jacket.

“Hey, Mom.”

A soft knock came from the front door, and I went to answer it.

Not realizing it until that very moment, my heart and soul registered with my brain just how much I had missed Phil. Seeing his twinkling warm eyes and brilliant dimpled smile, my world blew up with the radiance of an incandescent rainbow. Before I knew what I was about to do, I threw myself at him, and he caught me in his arms.

“Damn, I missed you, too,” he told me, his voice full of laughter.

Connor rounded the corner from the kitchen, and he and Phil gave each other man hugs.

“Have a good time,” said Connor, giving me one last hug.

As we pulled into Ormond, Phil pulled over and took out a folded bandana from his pocket. Holding it up, his mouth in a lopsided grin, he asked, “May I?”

I closed my eyes, and he secured it around my head.

A few seconds later, I felt the Black Beauty pulling back out onto the road, sensing the familiar bumps in the asphalt and turns that led to my house. He parked, opened the driver’s door, and assisted me out and on my feet. Carefully, he led me up the steps of the front porch, and I heard his keys jingle as he slipped his key to my house in the lock.

When the door opened, the scents of food and evergreen filled my olfactory. I smelled sugar, broth, cheese, and fresh seafood…and Phil as he turned to stand in front of me. I felt the heat pulsing off his chest in time with his pounding heart.

Is he nervous? Why?

“Every Christmas, for the past twenty-three years, I thought of a little girl who stole my heart,” he told me. “Each year, I saw that baby girl in my mind and tried to imagine what she looked like as the years passed. I wondered what she had done with herself, if she was happy, if she was ever told about the boy who fell head over heels for her and never forgot her.”

Motherfucker.
He was going to make me ugly cry if he continued like this.

His hands cradled my face, and he bent forward to fleetingly press his lips to mine. “Findin’ you again, Kenna…you’re the greatest gift I’ve ever received.”

I dragged in a heavy breath. My lungs felt airless despite my inhalation. Chest muscles were tightening around my ribs, my heart, as I tried desperately not to cry.

“Every day, I get to spend with you is just one more gift I’m eternally grateful for. Every minute is precious to me. What you share with me is more than I ever deserved and somethin’ I treasure. I will spend the rest of my life attemptin’ to earn everythin’ you’ve given me, but it’s so priceless.”

“Phil,” I whispered, a sob gently catching in my chest.

He lifted the blindfold from my eyes, blasting me with an outpouring of emotion from his.

“We have a lifetime of Christmases to spend with family and friends. I wanted this first one just for us. I know it ain’t—”

He didn’t get to finish because I attacked his mouth with mine, kissing him hard and deep, just wanting to absorb him into me. He moaned and hauled me to him, pressing our bodies together.

“I love you,” I told him. “I love you so much, Phil.”

A hand came up to touch my face, and he pressed his Third Eye to mine. “I love you, too. More than it should be possible to love anythin’.”

He pulled back, and my vision dazzled.

Phil had decorated the whole damn house! Twinkling stings of white lights ran along the ceiling and archways, twined with evergreen tinsel, silver and gold stars dangled from the ceilings. Bunches of mistletoe hung sporadically. There was even a fat little evergreen tree in a pot, brightly wrapped presents sitting beneath its squat little boughs. On the large dining room table we never used was a white fluffy cloth, and my mother’s old Christmas village had been set up with its working train set.

My hands covered my mouth, and I could feel how huge my eyes had widened.

“Connor told me you haven’t decorated since your mom passed,” Phil said quietly. “He showed me where the village was in the attic. I hope you don’t mind.”

I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak. It was all I could do to
breathe
. Swallowing hard, I sucked in a breath. “It’s wonderful!”

Phil pulled me into his arms once more, just holding me, resting his cheek upon the top of my head. I could feel him siphoning the urge to cry from me, absorbing it into himself, exhaling it with happiness into my hair. We stood like that for a few more minutes before he stirred.

“Are you hungry?”

“Starving!” I laughed.

My laughter infected him, and he chuckled.

“Come on. I made dinner.”

“Are you serious?” I snorted. “Will it be safe to eat?”

He scowled at me, but his lips twitched, and he couldn’t help the grin. “I had help, you little shit.”

Phil pulled me into the kitchen where a fondue set I recognized as Mama Sally’s was placed in the center of the island. Digging in his pocket, he pulled out a BIC and lit the burner beneath.

“First course is cheese.” He poked a spoon into what looked like a cheddar blend. “Mama Sally helped me make it. She said you always start with cheese.” Turning toward the fridge, he said, “I thought you and I could exchange our gifts tonight. We’ll be gettin’ shit from everyone else tomorrow—”

I turned and hurried for the stairs. Hell yes, I wanted to give him his presents tonight! Pounding up the steps, I raced to my room.

“Kenna!” he shouted. “Wait!” He tore up the steps after me.

But it was too late. I had opened my bedroom door, and I was standing there with my jaw dropped and eyes wide.

“Fuck, you’re fast!” he snapped.

My four-poster had heavy green velvet hangings, more evergreen tinsel and twinkling white lights wound around the posts, interspersed with bunches of mistletoe. The bedspread was red satin sheets with a white velvet coverlet. Every surface held red and green candles, not yet lit.

“I was supposed to surprise you with this later on,” he told me.

I stepped into the room. “This is so cool, Phil! A pimpin’ Christmas shag pad!”

“Oh God, do you think?” He followed.

“It’s awesome!” I laughed and threw my arms around his shoulders, stretched up, and kissed his chin. “I love it.”

He grinned down at me and wrapped his arms around me. “Good. I thought I’d bang the Christmas Spirit into you if you still weren’t feelin’ it after dinner.”

“No doubt,” I said, laughing.

His eyes sparkled, and he smiled. “Do you need help with anythin’?”

“Nope. Go make sure you aren’t burning the cheese. I’ll be right down.”

“All right.”

Waiting until I heard him descend the stairs, I nearly tripped over myself into my closet. There, I wrenched off my clothes, even my underwear, and pulled on a tight white tank top where just the darker rose of my nipples could be seen through the fabric and my dark green swishy peasant skirt that hung just below my knees. I slipped a ring box into a voluminous pocket.

I’d bought Phil a ring for Christmas from a very special jeweler in town—DiAblo.

DiAblo made some of the most incredible pieces of jewelry I had ever seen, designing everything by hand. He was expensive and rightly so because not only did he use high-quality, ethically mined resources, he was also a brilliant artist. He had a signature piece that people went mad over—a skull mold that he used to make pendants and rings out of gold, platinum, silver, whatever the customer required. A few weeks ago, I had contacted him to design a custom piece.

DiAblo was a patient of mine who had come in with an old motorcycle injury that gave him trouble from time to time. His real name was Neil Sidebottom—which was why he went by DiAblo—was in his late thirties and from the Isle of Man. Built like a tank, he looked like a motorcycle gang member, his body covered in tattoos, and he had a gold incisor tooth that was just plain wicked. Each one of the skull rings he produced came with a yellow gold incisor tooth, a trademark of his.

Having helped Neil relieve some severe back pain, he had offered me his services whenever I came across the need for them, and I had cashed in on that promise for this. Even though he was a very busy man, he pulled off the order in just a couple of weeks and had it ready for me only two days ago.

The platinum ring I’d had him design was DiAblo’s signature skull piece, and every nook and cranny shone with perfection. But this one had some special features that none of the others he had made before had. Across the left eye sat a small square-cut sapphire, ringed with tiny diamonds for an eye patch. The eye patch had actually been one of my rings that no longer fit my finger, a birthday present from my mother when I’d turned thirteen.

I’d had the inside of the band inscribed, too, with
My Other Half
.

Shifting through the pile of presents I had for everyone, I plucked out four more that had Phil’s name on them and headed downstairs to place them under the tree. Walking back into the kitchen, I could see that Phil had placed a basket of bread and sliced apples on the island. He looked up, a smile on his face that was wiped clean off when his gaze dropped to my chest.

“Phil?”

“Yeah, Sugar Tits,” he replied, making me laugh. “How the fuck am I supposed to eat when I’ll be starin’ at your tits throughout dinner?” he demanded.

“One mouthful at a time?” I suggested with a saucy grin.

I plopped down into my seat—at least he didn’t know I wasn’t wearing underwear. He’d make me sit on his lap and feed me himself
.

Hmm…

The cheese course was awesome, followed by a broth fondue with cubes of filet mignon, scallops, and shrimp along with several dipping sauces Phil informed me Lewis had shown him how to make it. Dessert consisted of a plate of strawberries and chunks of brownies and marshmallows dipped in a thick chocolate fudge mixed with Baileys.

“Wow, babe.” I shoved a chocolate-dipped brownie in my face. “This is fucking awesome.”

Phil grunted in response. “Too fuckin’ right.”

Afterward, we both cleaned everything up because Mama Sally had warned Phil that the pots shouldn’t sit dirty, or they would be hell to clean.

“Presents?” I wheedled after the last pot had been scrubbed.

“Yeah. It’ll help settle the food since I plan on fuckin’ you like crazy later on.”

“Who said romance was dead?” I joked.

Settling on the couch, he handed me my presents while stacking his next to him. He watched as I tore open my brand-new cell phone.

“You got a new number,” he informed me as I pulled it out of the box, finding it already programmed and charged. “All the people in the phone contacts have it, so if there are others who need it, you can send it to them. I didn’t have all your contacts, so…your old phone number will be canceled at the end of the month to give you time.”

“Is this because you insist on paying my bills?” I asked snippily.

“Maybe. Plus, it’s a fuckin’ badass phone.”

I’d discovered a couple of days after Thanksgiving that Phil had been sneaking my bills out of my mail and paying them. When that had happened, I’d naturally became infuriated, yelling at him and telling him he wasn’t going to get laid until I was paying my own way again.

He had straight up fucking laughed in my face. Then, he had whipped off his belt, grabbed and bound my wrists, ripped off my pants, and fucked my brains out. All the while, he’d told me he was going to continue paying my bills, demanded I surrender over my phone bill, which was automatically paid each month from my account, and give him my credit cards, so he could give me a black Amex that would be paid directly from
his
account.

“You’re my fuckin’ woman, Kenna,”
he had growled in my ear, grinding into me from behind, my hair fisted in his hand. “
I
get to take care of you.
I
get to give you everything. Fuckin’ stop fightin’ it because I ain’t gonna let you win this one.”

And I hadn’t won.
Ass.

“Yeah, it is.” I grinned.

“I got myself one, too,” he confessed.

Turning it on, I saw the screensaver was a picture Lili had taken of Phil and me with her digital camera in LA. His arms were wrapped around me, and his face was pressed up to mine, reminding me of another photo taken twenty-three years earlier. I smiled and felt the ring box pressing into my thigh.

I knew then what I was going to do.