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“You coming to Christmas tomorrow?” Connor asked him bluntly.
“Your sister invited me and I accepted.” Saint bowed his head slightly. “Thank you for the invitation. I’ve never been to anyone’s Christmas before.”
“Not even your own?” Connor looked at him skeptically.
I could see Saint deliberating for a few seconds, then decided ‘fuck it.’
He looked at me, then looked back at Connor.
“My father is in politics. As far as I can remember, Christmas never really meant the same to us as it means to you. Our Christmas was a political push for supremacy. The first Christmas I can remember…”
“Wait.” Clayton paused with his donut halfway to his face. “I thought that your parents were dead. I thought you were raised by some cop?”
“I was.” He paused. “Kind of. That cop was the secret service agent. My dad isn’t dead. When I was younger, I perpetuated that lie because I didn’t want anyone to know who my family was or get any preferential treatment. Or any worse treatment than I deserved. Trust me when I say people look at you differently when they realize that you’re the son of a former US President.”
“I wouldn’t want to fuck up a president’s son. Can you imagine showing up the same day at basic training with you? What if I hurt you, and then they sent Air Force One out to pick you up, and then decided to take me, too, so they could waterboard me and send me to Rikers Island or something?” He paused. “Do you know what they really keep at Area 51?”
Saint looked amused.
“I was hurt while I was at basic training, and they didn’t send anyone, sorry to say,” I said. “But they also didn’t know who I was. I don’t treat myself any differently than you do. And no, I really don’t know what’s at Area 51. I wouldn’t recommend trying it, though, just based solely on what I’d seen when I was a kid.”
“What you’d seen?” Connor asked, licking his finger clean.
“I mean based on what little top-secret stuff I did see. They heavily guard the things that hold their secrets. Trust me when I say, nobody will ever get in there unless they want you to,” he pointed out.
Conversation flowed well after that, but eventually it was time for my brothers to go to work and my man to go to sleep.
When it was just us left in the parking lot after my brothers had left—without, I might add, offering to pay me back for their breakfasts—I moved in close until Saint either had to let me lean against him or put his arms around me.
He put his arms around me.
He looked down into my eyes, and it was then that I noticed that he’d left his glasses inside.
“Where are your glasses?” I asked, sounding somewhat alarmed.
He patted his pocket. “I took them off so I could kiss you.”
And kiss me he did.
• • •
Later that night, as I lay in the bathtub, I kept thinking about that kiss.
In fact, I was so lost in that kiss that at first I didn’t hear the knock on my door.
It was only the second knock that made me realize that the tap-tap I’d heard and dismissed was actually the door.
“Shit,” I said as I got up and walked to my towel.
“One minute!” I screamed.
Hopefully they’d hear me.
It could only be a few people.
There were no more deliveries this late at night, even though I was waiting for one. Dammit. My parents’ third gift wouldn’t be here until the twenty-sixth. Which pissed me off because that was the one I’d most wanted to give to them.
What was the point in paying for extra fast shipping if it wasn’t going to get here in time?
“You can bet your ass that I’m getting my money back for that,” I grumbled as I slipped back into Saint’s sweatshirt, a pair of leggings, and some slippers.
I was just getting to the door when I heard, “Don’t bother. I let myself in.”
I looked at the panel on the wall.
It was black.
But I remembered one thing my father told me about it.
Cut power and the police are called. It may look like it’s not working, but it is. Battery backup, baby.
Hopefully what he said was true, because as I stared at the man in my house, I was scared shitless that nobody would know until I didn’t show up at Christmas in the morning.CHAPTER 16All I’m saying is you rarely see a person crying and eating Christmas cookies at the same time.-Caro to SaintSAINT“All units be advised,” the dispatcher said into our radio as I hurriedly changed into my SWAT gear. “Silent alarm was tripped at…”
I listened with half an ear as I dropped down onto the bench and tied my boots.
I hustled through, grabbing my gear when I arrived outside to find the entire team already there and waiting. I was last. Again. But, saying that, I’d had a streaker that’d thought it would be a grand idea to run down the length of Kilgore’s main highway and flash everyone his candy cane.
