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I stretch my feet under the table, bumping into someone. Jessie, from the sudden look of disgust on her face and the rapidity with which she withdraws her feet. Her whiskey-fire eyes accuse me of purposefully attempting to play footsie with her. I ignore her.
At least she didn’t stab my foot with the stiletto on those fuckers. Everyone else is in socks or slippers, but she has to keep the uncomfortable-looking-but-sexy-as-hell boots on.
I’d hoped to sink into the familiarity of a Foley Christmas after four long, lonely years, but everything’s different. The only thing that hasn’t changed is Jessie’s hostility. Not exactly the comfort I’m after.
Timothy’s waxing poetically about his girlfriend when before he’d be practically levitating with excitement regaling everyone with a story about jumping an exploding bridge or something ridiculous. Amanda and Hazel have enough energy to be the most cutthroat players at the table, now that Evie’s six and Liam ten, and both put themselves to bed an hour ago. Celia’s relaxing and watching the card game from her perch on William’s ottoman, not rushing around the kitchen. Every so often, she comments on the game.
And I’m losing my mind. I want to undo the dark auburn braid loosely draped over Jessie’s shoulder, wrap her hair around my fist, and pull her head back so I can steal a kiss under the mistletoe.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Not that I haven’t been attracted to her over the years. Her tits caused me to fail tenth-grade English and I’ve come so close to kissing that fucking look off her face more times than she could ever know. Self-preservation and a desire to keep my place in her family have always held me back, but tonight I want to strike that match and watch it all burn.
I’m losing it.
Jessie’s lush lips press tight as she catches me staring at her again. I hold her gaze long enough to bring an angry flush to her creamy skin. I’ve won, but I’ve also lost because now I’m picturing her naked with a full body blush, her eyes closed, a little moan escaping—
Hazel nudges me. It’s my turn.
Shit. What number are we on?
Seven, Hazel mouths with a smirk.
“Two sevens.” I slap my cards on the pile, my voice a growl from the uncomfortable direction of my thoughts.
“Bullshit.” Jessie. Again. The instant my cards hit the table.
I flip the two sevens over and raise one eyebrow at her.
She swears under her breath, angrily picking up the pile.
Serves her right.
Amanda wins the game. Jessie’s scorched-earth tactics destroyed both our chances.
Finally, it’s the last round of drinks, the final chance to snag a piece of pie for the lucky few who make it to the kitchen in time. Timothy catches my eye and winks.
Shit. It’s time.
“Listen up, people.” Timothy booms from his spot near the fireplace. The room instantly quiets. It always does for him. The man is enigmatic, able to pull anyone along for the ride. Which is why I’m here and not hiding on a white sand beach.
Timothy cornered me a few months ago, begging me to come home for Christmas. “It’s important to me,” he’d said. “I want you there when I tell everyone.”
What could I say to that?
I’d tried to say no, but he wasn’t having it.
“I need you.” He’d insisted. “You’re a red cape, I’m a matador. Jessie’s a bull.”
“So, you want her to rip me to shreds instead of you?”
“Precisely.”
I didn’t need the reminder she doesn’t like me, but I was surprised that it hurt. And in the end, I agreed to come home, because as much as I’d rather be anywhere else right now, I love this family, and I’ve missed them. I want to be here for this and for Timothy, the way he’s been here for me.
And I owe it to him. He was injured on set doing a stunt I couldn’t get right. My best friend, the man I love like a brother, nearly died because of me. I will do anything for him. Even take the brunt of Jessie’s feelings.
He’s grinning now, enjoying every second he keeps us waiting. When the anticipation reaches a peak, he claps his hands together. “Mina and I are getting married.”
