Chapter Six

Blue lay on the bed, legs tangled with Christian’s, lazily running her fingers over his chest. The muscles were addictive, truly. As could be the sex. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d called what had just passed between them epic. She had never been that aroused, that out of herself, yet so completely aware of every molecule in her body.

Amazing. Plain and simple.

Now she just wanted to yawn and laze on the bed like a satiated cat, but somehow she already knew that she had about thirty seconds before Christian started talking. He was a verbal guy, something she wasn’t really used to, but found she liked. There was something about his constant chatter that made her feel like he was a genuinely welladjusted guy happy with his life.

What a concept.

“You know, if you’re really, really nice to me I won’t make you wear the antlers.”

“Well, forget it then. I’ll wear the antlers.” Blue grinned as she nuzzled closer to him.

He chucked softly. “Then you don’t want to make love again in a little while? Because that’s what I meant by being really nice to me. Letting me touch and taste and pleasure you all over again.”

Christian had a way of taking her standard sarcasm and turning it so that she didn’t immediately have a quippy response. She had expected him to make a crack about getting him a drink or the chips and not only hadn’t he done that, he’d referred to sex as making love. She could honestly say never in her entire life had a man said that to her. It was always sex or any wide variety of crude nicknames, and that had never bothered her. In fact, she’d preferred it. Using the term making love had always seemed so cheesy to her, but right now, it seemed . . . natural.

That thing was happening again.

That weird swelling bubbly kind of feeling in her chest, like indigestion, but in a good way.

“Oh,” she said, without an ounce of cool. “I definitely want to do that again later.”

“Good.” He kissed the top of her head and shifted on the bed. “God, I’m starving. I need to eat something. You want a drink, babe?”

“Sure.” Blue leaned down and pulled on her bikini bottoms. For some reason, lounging topless was totally acceptable, but having a margarita on top of the bedspread buck naked was too much for her.

Christian didn’t seem to have the same reservations. He strolled around the room completely bare-assed, which was fine by her, because it was a damn good ass.

While he dug his hand into the Doritos bag and helped himself to a fistful, he said, “I wonder if there’s an ice machine? These margaritas would taste better with ice. I should look.”

“You should probably get dressed first,” Blue said, rolling onto her side and propping her head up with her hand.

He made a face at her at her mock innocent tone. “It’s a good thing I have you around, otherwise I’d be strolling outside into a blizzard naked.”

Blue laughed. “You should try sarcasm more often. That was pretty good.”

“Why, thank you.” Retrieving their cups from the nightstand, he poured more liquor into them, followed by mixer. Then taking the two bottles he opened the motel room door and plunked them down out in the snowdrift that had accumulated outside. “That will cool them down for later.”

Giving an involuntary yelp as the cold air wafted over her, Blue grabbed a bed pillow and plunked it down over her mostly naked body. “Are you crazy? Close the door! It’s cold and you’re naked! Someone will see you!”

He turned his head and shrugged. “Who the hell is going to see me? There is no one else here, Roy is asleep I’m sure, and there isn’t a single car out on the road. Besides, you said this room was too hot.”

All of which made total sense. “Nothing phases you, does it? You’re just chill all the time. That kind of freaks me out.”

Christian cocked a brow and slammed his fists together to crack all his knuckles. “It freaks me out that that freaks you out.”

“So we’re just a couple of freaks?”

“Seems that way.”

“Are you going to close the door?”

“Eventually. After I’ve proved my point that no one will ever see me—”

Christian’s words cut off and he started laughing.

“What?” Blue sat up and tried to look out the open door. Not that she wanted to get too close to it. It was damn cold and the wind was howling, kicking up snow. Christian actually had snowflakes on his feet.

“Someone just drove past. A female cop. She waved.” With that, he shut the door. “That was funny.”

“You’re lucky she didn’t ticket you for indecent exposure.”

He just shrugged, rubbing his arms. “Man, it’s cold out there.”

Really? Men could be just totally baffling. Blue balled up his T-shirt and threw it at him. “No kidding, Einstein.”

Catching the shirt, he said, “I’m not going to wear a shirt with no pants. That would really toss me into the pervert at the door category. Besides, it’s just hard to feel sexy with a shirt on and no boxers.”

“Then put on your boxers,” she drawled. “That seems a little obvious.”

He did step into his boxers then took a swig of his drink. “I’m too sexy for my shirt, so sexy it hurts.” Then he did an impromptu strut, a sort of macho frat boy version of the catwalk, swinging his T-shirt.

Blue didn’t want to laugh. She really didn’t. But by the second pass when he had stuck his hand out and switched to “Do you think I’m sexy?” by Rod Stewart, she totally lost it.

“Oh, my God, you’re ridiculous.” She was laughing so hard it hurt, especially when he morphed into doing the sprinkler dance move, then did some hip thrusting in his boxers. “Stop.”

He did then pulled an innocent expression. “Stop what?” He handed over her drink and took another sip of his. “Want any of this food?”

“Sure. Bring the chips to bed and we can get under the covers since this room is, ahem, freezing now from having the door open for twenty minutes. Maybe there’s something on TV we can watch.”

They settled back into bed, Christian propped up against the headboard, pulling her against him. It was a nice position, all that warm naked man chest behind her, strong enough and broad enough that she just felt relaxed, not like she was crushing the life out of him.

“The temperature’s just right in here,” he told her in a teasing voice as he started channel surfing.

“Uh-huh.” Actually it was, but she wasn’t going to admit it.

“Cool. It’s a Wonderful Life is on.” Christian set down the remote on the bed.

Blue sat up and turned to search his face. “Are you serious ? I am not watching this schmaltzy crap.”

“Of course I’m serious. This is a great flick. I mean, the dude changes his life and gets a grip on what really matters.”

“That never happens in real life.”

The minute the words were out of her mouth, Blue wanted to retrieve them with a fish hook. Damn it. Now he was going to psychoanalyze her. Or worse, not even care that she’d said something so boo-hiss.

But all he said was, “Sure it does. Happens all the time. And the point of the movie is not to make a totally lost soul find himself, but to remind people who are mostly doing it right to keep on doing it right.”

Blue folded her arms over her bare chest as she frowned at the TV, leaning on his chest. “I still don’t want to watch it.”

“Fine. But if Charlie Brown’s Christmas is on we’re watching it.”

“You do realize that all those Christmas specials are horrible? I mean, something awful happens in every single one. The island of misfit toys, Charlie Brown’s pathetic little tree, Cindy Lou Who watching the Grinch steal all her presents, Frosty melting . . . they’re depressing.”

“They all have happy endings.”

Blue snorted. “Yeah, after everything sucked, anything even remotely okay seems brilliant.”

“Though I could never figure out why Frosty didn’t just toss a chair through the windows. I mean, he was melting in a glass greenhouse. He totally could have busted himself out.”

“You’ve put a lot of thought into it.” Blue picked up the remote, but somehow found herself not pushing the buttons, just staring blankly at Jimmy Stewart.

“So have you, obviously.” Christian brushed her hair off her shoulder.

She shrugged.

“Was Christmas really that awful for you?” he asked in a soft voice that made her shoulders stiffen.

Her throat felt tight and she wanted to laugh it off, blow him off, deflect the question with wit or sarcasm. But she couldn’t. She nodded. “Yeah. For most kids, aside from the religious aspect, Christmas was about them. For me, it was like the one day that made it really, really clear that I was an afterthought in my parent’s lives.”

She was glad he was behind her so he couldn’t see her face. She knew she didn’t mask her emotions well and she was feeling really vulnerable. But at the same time, she was actually relieved she’d spoken the truth. She had never admitted that out loud to anyone in her entire life and she instinctively knew that she could trust Christian with something so personal. Maybe it was even easier because she’d just met him. She didn’t know exactly what it was about him that instilled such confidence, but her heart did pound a little faster than normal as she waited for his response.

He kissed the top of her head. She’d never really had a man do that, and Christian had already done it more than once. It made her feel . . . protected.

“I’m sorry, Blue,” he said, brushing his lips across her temple. “That’s a raw deal and you deserved better than that.”

She turned her head slightly, trying to see his expression. “You’re not going to tell me that I’m whining? To suck it up. That everyone’s family is dysfunctional and I should get over it?”

“Of course not. Those things hurt when you’re a kid and you carry it with you to adulthood. What was Christmas at your house like? Describe a typical day.”

Blue chewed her lip and leaned forward a little so she could see him. “Are you sure you want to listen to all this? It’s not like I was abused or anything.”

But he just nodded. “Yes, I want to hear it. Get it out. Rant if you want. You’re entitled to your feelings.”

She hesitated, but then she leaned back against his chest and played with the edge of the bed sheet. “Well. My dad only saw me a few times a year, and he never wanted me for Christmas. He always went skiing. Sometimes he would send me a present, sometimes he would forget altogether, and most years I got a five dollar bill in the mail. Which, let me tell you, five bucks didn’t go very far even twenty years ago, and it’s not like my dad was hurting for cash. But it wasn’t the dollar amount, it was like I said, being an afterthought.”

Christian laced his fingers through hers and squeezed.

“My mother was all into social justice and charity, which was great. I mean, I think it’s awesome that she’s dedicated her life to helping others, but when you’re six and your friends are all getting Barbies, being told your mother donated money in your name to the Red Cross just makes you resentful. She’d lecture me about starvation in Africa and I’d just wonder why it was me who had to give up toys so they could eat when no one else had to. It wasn’t like my mom gave up buying clothes or spending a ton of money on airfare to exotic locales or on her yoga classes.”

“So she didn’t give you presents at all?”

His voice sounded so appalled, Blue instantly felt better.

“Not unless you count hemp mittens as a legit Christmas gift.”

“That’s it? That’s all you got?”

“One year, yeah. Some years I got nada. We didn’t have a Christmas tree either. Environmentally unsound, obviously.”

“That is fucking cracked.”

Christian’s vehemence amused her. “So now you know why I don’t dig Christmas. It was something everyone else had and I envied them at first, then just resented the holiday altogether. For other kids, it was the best day of the year. For me, it was . . . lonely.”

“That sucks. And your parents should be ashamed of themselves. They were both selfish. And your mother has wonderful ideals but she did you wrong. I bet my ass when she was six she wanted a goddamn Barbie too. She expected you to be a mini-adult and that was cruel.”

Hearing someone else say the things Blue had always felt lifted a gigantic weight off her shoulders. She’d always felt like she was the one lacking, like she was horrible and petty to feel the way she had as a kid, when she knew in her heart her feelings were legitimate. And somehow, having spoken them out loud and having them validated by Christian, she felt decidedly less bitter.

“Thanks,” she said softly, turning and giving him a kiss. “I appreciate that.”

“Did you ever get a good gift? Anything at all?”

She didn’t even hesitate on that one. “Yes. Just once. I was eight, and my dad had been to New York for Thanksgiving and he bought me a glass snow globe. He gave it to me for Christmas, and it was even wrapped and everything. And I loved it . . . it was like magic. You shook it and the beautiful little flakes danced around the high rise buildings. They had wreathes on them for Christmas and I imagined that in a big city like that, with all those people, you would walk down the sidewalk in the snow and never feel lonely ever . . .”

The image of the cityscape dissipated in her mind and Blue cleared her throat, wondering what the hell she was doing. She was just going to shut up now.

“Have you been to New York?”

“No.” Because what if she walked down the sidewalk in the snow at Christmastime and still felt lonely? She didn’t want to ruin the magic, the hope.

“You should . . . it would be like embracing Christmas, hope, a different life for yourself than what your parents created.”

Or be crushed. One or the other. It freaked her out that he had used the word hope as well, that he could somehow pinpoint her emotions, that he hadn’t just shut this whole conversation down with an ill-timed joke five minutes ago. She didn’t know how to deal with him, with any of this, so she just said, “You’re quite the philosopher, you know that? Not what I expected.”

“Nah. Just a guy who is content and wants amazing people he knows to feel the same way. And you have a choice now, you know. You can keep Christmas as a time of year that makes you unhappy, or you can decide to let it in and make some of your own traditions.”

“Like margaritas in bed in a cheap motel?” she said, mustering up a sassy smirk. This was all too raw. She needed to retreat.

Part of her figured he would argue or sigh that she was ditching the serious tone of the conversation. But he didn’t. After a second, where he searched her face with an intensity that was unnerving, he nodded.

“Exactly. Margaritas in bed on Christmas Eve. I like it.”

“Then I’ll get you another one.” Blue popped up out of bed and took their empty cups off the nightstand. She went to pour them refills, but first she lifted the lid of her suitcase and pulled out a T-shirt and a pair of pajama pants, and not because it was cold outside and she was about to open the door.

She wanted to be covered up.

 

Christian watched Blue dragging on a shirt and cotton pajama pants and tried to make some sense of his complicated thoughts and emotions. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear to God he had fallen head over ass for this woman.

He liked everything about her, from the sound of her voice to the way she tilted her head, to the vulnerability she buried beneath sassiness. The way she had readily agreed to breakfast with Roy, the ancient motel owner, said a lot about her heart, and he liked her sense of humor, the way she was determined to remain aloof and always cracked.

When they left this motel, he didn’t want to never see her again.

He wanted to date Blue out in the real world and everything about that stunned and excited and scared the shit out of him. Never having had this instantaneous response to a woman, he had no freaking clue what to do with it.

So he tossed back the bedding and got out of bed. The one thing he could do was brave the cold himself instead of having her do it. “No, Blue, I’ll get the bottles. I’m the one who stuck them out there. And you’re a freeze baby, while I’m clearly not.”

“A freeze baby?” She stopped with her hand on the doorknob and smiled at him in amusement. “I’ve never heard that expression before.”

“Where the hell have you been hiding?” Christian didn’t bother to put his shirt on, and he was already wearing his boxers. Good enough. Two seconds of cold wasn’t going to kill him. A glance behind the curtain of the window to the parking lot showed it had actually stopped snowing. “Stand back, miss,” he joked in a country drawl. “This is man’s work.”

The eye roll from her was expected, but she did back up and ripped open a pack of peanuts on the table. “I do have one Christmas tradition,” she said unexpectedly.

“Yeah?” He threw open the door and waited for her to elaborate as he grabbed the tequila and the mixer, ignoring the biting wind that cut into his flesh. He couldn’t exactly complain that the cold hurt after pulling the macho act.

“Before the big Christmas party at the nursing home, I go and do the ladies’ hair for free.”

Christian paused, half bent over, touched beyond belief, and forgetting all about the icy chill seeping into his feet. God, he was falling hard for Blue. Crazy, out of control, illogical, wanted to write a goddamn love poem falling for this gorgeous woman.

“I mean, it’s not a big deal, it’s just they like to feel good about themselves when their families show up for the party and I . . . I like to talk to them. They’re very sweet.”

He could almost hear the blush on her and as he stood up, Christian turned slowly with the bottles in his hands. “I think that tradition rocks, Blue.”

She put her hands on her hips and she nodded in conviction. “You know what? It does. It totally does.”

Christian kicked the door closed with his foot. “You rock.”

She took the tequila out of his hands and grinned. “I do, don’t I?”

It was that moment that he lost himself in a haze of tequila, lust, off the chart attraction, and the spirit of Christmas giving.

Plunking the mixer down on the table, Christian grabbed Blue and kissed her, a wild, tongue plunging sweep of domination and desperation, wanting to show her how completely awesome he thought she was and how she rocked all right. She’d rocked his world to the very foundation in one night.

Christian lifted Blue right off her feet, his hands on her ass as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

“Yes,” he managed between kisses, the feel of her body so close to his electrifying. “You definitely rock.”