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  TRAPPED AT CHRISTMAS

  Beverley Kendall

  Copyright © Beverley Kendall 2015

  Published by Season Publishing LLC

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  www.beverleykendall.com

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Christmas Eve

  Mitch

  I swear to God, if Paige and I don’t have sex soon, I’m gonna go nuts.

  Or my nuts will fall off, whichever comes first.

  I can only thank God that the end of our sexual drought is in sight. I figure if we put Bree down around eight, we’ll do the polite thing and hang out with the “adults” until nine. Then we can hit the sheets and get naked without looking like a bunch of horny, anti-social house guests.

  This year we’re spending Christmas at my grandparents. It’s been over a year and I’m still getting used to the idea that that’s who they are to me—grandparents I thought I didn’t have. It’s been a mental transition, and with Dan it hasn’t been too bad. By far, Diane’s been the easiest since she’s always acted more like a mother to me than a sister.

  Hoisting my still-dozing daughter higher up in my arms, I follow my grandmother and Paige up the stairs to the guest rooms we’ll be using during our six-day stay. Bree konked out on the drive over the minute we hit the highway.

  I brush a kiss over the silky brown hair fringing her forehead. “Come on sweetheart, it’s time to wake up.” It’s two o’clock, which means nap time’s over.

  In response, she tightens her little arms around my neck, burrowing deeper into me.

  My chest gets tight as I breathe in the scent of baby shampoo and baby powder. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this—how much I love her. Diane says having a child is like having your heart on the outside of your body. She’s right. Bree has mine wrapped around her little finger.

  But as much as I love her, if she sleeps any longer, it’s going to be a bitch getting her to bed before ten tonight. And I have plans with her mother that don’t include a wide-awake, too-inquisitive two-year-old.

  My grandmother stops and gestures through the open door of the first bedroom. “And this is where Paige and Briana will be sleeping.”

  Wait! What? Bree is supposed to have her own room. As a matter-of-fact Bree does have her own room whenever she spends the night.

  Bewildered, my gaze shoots from my grandmother to a wide-eyed Paige, and then inside the guest room. The first thing I notice is that the pink and green toddler bed from across the hall now sits beside the queen-sized sleigh bed. Heart now thumping erratically, my attention swings back to my grandmother.

  She returns my panicked stare with an arched look and answers my unspoken question in a prim, no-nonsense voice, “Call me old-fashioned, but in my house unmarried young people do not share a room, much less a bed.”

  What. The. Everloving. Fuck?

  “Of course that’s okay with us,” Paige replies quickly. My gaze snaps to her. She manages to smile while sending me a quick and pointed don’t you dare say anything to embarrass me look with a flash of her blue eyes.

  My grandmother smiles approvingly at her. She loves Paige not because she’s a sweet, intelligent, beautiful, young lady, but because she’s a wonderful mother. A woman couldn’t ask more from the mother of her great grandchild. Her words exactly. It’s her grandson who’s failed to make an “honest” woman of her with whom she takes issue.

  For the record, I am going to marry Paige. More than that, I want to marry her but a piece of paper isn’t going to make me love her more. I get that making it official is important but we only just graduated. Actually, we don’t walk until May. We worked our butts off the last year and a half to finish a semester early. In January, we become full-time at our jobs. So sue me if I want to make the proposal perfect. Something for the record books. Something Paige will remember for the rest of her life. And I think I’ve got that in the bag.

  But this—this whole not having sex while we’re here, that’s definitely not part of the plan. Will never be part of any plan I ever make.

  “Well I’m glad that’s all straightened out, and that you both understand” my grandmothers says.

  The involuntary tightening of my expression earns me a hard stare from my girlfriend. I fix my face.

  But no, I don’t understand. Not one bit.

  My grandmother turns her smile on me as if there’s something to actually smile about.

  Sexual deprivation is not a smiling matter. Telling a twenty-one-year-old guy with a working dick that he can’t have sex with his girlfriend—the mother of his child for God’s sake—is nothing short of cruel and unusual punishment.

  And at Christmas? This is supposed to be the season of joy and all that stuff not one where I suffer a bad case of blue-balls and wallow in Scrooge-like misery.

  “Come down and join us as soon as you’ve settled in. There are snacks in the kitchen to tide you over until dinner if you’re hungry.”

  In silence, Paige and I watch her until she disappears down the staircase. We turn and look at each other at the same time.

  I jerk my head toward the room assigned to her and Bree. “We need to talk.”

  Paige

  I precede Mitch into the bedroom. After following me in, he shifts Bree into his other arm and closes the door.

  “Tell me she didn’t just say what I think she said.” He stares down at me, his expression a storm of flummoxed incredulity.

  I release a sigh of commiseration. “Hon, it’s her house and she’s your grandmother. We don’t have a lot of say in this.”

  For a second he glances around as if trying to find an escape. There are two dormer windows in the room, but it would be one hell of a descent. But I understand. I feel his pain but we’re stuck here for a week. We’re going to have to make the best of the situation.

  A calculating gleam enters his eyes as he looks at me. I know that look too well. “Sneak into my room after they go to bed.”

  “Absolutely not.” I shake my head more forcefully now. “There’s no way I’m risking getting caught in your grandparents’ house.” My voice is firm and so is my conviction. I have to be or Mitch will have me doing only God knows what. He has a way of talking me into things. He also has a way with his mouth and his hands. He can be incredibly persuasive and I’m a woman who hasn’t had sex with her uber-sexy boyfriend in over a week. There are limits to my resolve.

  He stares at me as if he can’t believe I won’t blithely go along with his plan.

  “Don’t you dare give me that woe is me look. Your grandparents like me and I’d like to keep it that way. I’m not going to betray their trust.”

  Realizing that he won’t be able to coax, sway or corrupt me into having his way with me, he grumbles, “Two years in a row, Paige. Christmas hates us.”

  The pout of his soft kissable lips has me smiling despite myself. “No it doesn’t. It’s called bad timing.” Really really bad timing.

  Bree’s been sick with the flu the last week and when you have to deal with a sick child—plus work, cooking and housework—sex is the last thing on your mind. We’ve both pretty much been surviving on three to fours hours of sleep a day. I’d forgotten what seven full hours of sleep felt like until last night. But
knowing what I know now, I wish like hell we’d used one of those hours for some much-needed sex.

  Last Christmas Bree had been teething. That should pretty much say it all because anyone who’s survived a teething child knows exactly what I mean. The hardest thing to deal with had been the constant crying and whimpering. I’d been sympathetic to a degree but I’d finally had to tell Mitch he needed to suck it up because I can only deal with one child at a time. But when we did have sex after that long, eight-day dry spell it had been off-the-charts amazing. I’d been looking forward to that tonight.

  Suddenly, Bree’s eyes snap open wide. Alert, she stares at me for a second before her head pops up off her father’s shoulder. “Is it Kissmas?” She looks at me and then turns her big, green-eyed gaze up to her father.

  I feel a smile taking over my face, a fresh wave of love for my daughter swelling my heart. Mitch and I created her, this beautiful child. Sometimes I look at her and find that hard to believe. But there’s no denying she’s mine. Everyone says she’s the mini version of me with her father’s eyes.

  Mitch laughs roughly. “Not until tomorrow, sweetheart,” he says, kissing her flushed cheek.

  Then he sends me a look filled with so much want and longing, I feel the heat of it throughout my body. “And then five more days after that.” The low growl of his voice is the sound of unadulterated pent up frustration.

  Sigh. I know exactly how he feels.

  Closing the distance between us, I tip my head back and silently purse my lips for a kiss. Mitch’s eyes darken as his mouth claims mine, immediately engaging my tongue in a hungry, breath-stealing kiss.

  “Mommy, Daddy, I wan kiss.” Along with her plaintive demand, Bree wedges her little fingers between our faces, prying our mouths apart.

  Laughing and slightly breathless, Mitch and I reluctantly separate. Our eyes meet over the top of her head.

  “Remember where we left off,” he instructs as Bree reaches up to plant a wet kiss on the corner of his mouth.

  With the place between my thighs throbbing in protest, how can I forget.

  Five hours later

  After dinner, I check my phone and see two missed calls and a voicemail from Erin. While everyone adjourns to the family room, I excuse myself and go upstairs to my room to Skype her.

  Erin answers on the first ring and skips right over the niceties. “Sooooo, are you prepared for tomorrow? Are you nervous? Excited? How’s the manicure doing? Still holding up?”

  I laugh and admire my French manicure. Yesterday had been girl’s day out—something we try to do two or three times a month. We’d had lunch at our favorite restaurant, gone Christmas shopping and then treated ourselves to facials, manicures and pedicures. My skin is super-soft and blemish free, and my feet and hands look great.

  “Stop talking about it or you’ll jinx it.”

  She chuckles, flicking her dark-auburn hair over her shoulder. Behind her I see the double-ovens, which means she’s on her laptop at the island in her kitchen. “I know he’s going to ask. You know he’s going to ask. Everyone knows he’s going to pop the question tomorrow. The only thing you want for Christmas is a ring.”

  “I want to marry him. The ring is bonus.” Although, wearing his ring will be nice. Okay, a lot more than nice.

  “Well, first comes love, then comes a huge diamond ring, and then comes marriage. You guys jumped the gun on the baby carriage part.”

  I chuckle. She’s right about the last part. “You’re so silly.”

  “No, what I am is your best friend and soon-to-be maid of honor,” she replies with a a wide grin.

  Tingles run up and down my sides. That’s what talk of my wedding to Mitch does to me. I can’t wait to marry him. It’s the final step in us truly starting a life together. We both agreed we’d have two more children. Okay, he wanted three more but since he’s not the one who has to carry them...I—er, we decided three was plenty.

  “Stop. I told you, if you keep talking about it, you’re going to jinx it.” Every once in a while, the superstitious streak in me comes out.

  Erin’s gorgeous face fills the screen as she leans in closer to the camera. “How am I going to jinx it? It’s Christmas. You guys are done with college. You have a daughter together. You’re living together. You both have great jobs, and you’re absolutely crazy in love with each other. Plus, your birthday is months away. He has to propose now.”

  I know she’s right. Of course he’s going to propose. There’s absolutely nothing stopping him now.

  I wipe my sweaty palms on my jean-clad thighs. Not since Bree’s birth have I anticipated a day this much. I force myself to inhale a calming breath in an effort to tamp down my growing excitement.

  “You do realize that you’re going to have to make nice with Josh for the wedding. He is going to be Mitch’s best man.”

  Erin’s smile evaporates as she pulls back from the camera.

  Crap, now she’s upset.

  We normally don’t talk about Josh. It’s an unspoken rule I’ve learn to accept. Josh is a conversation killer. But it’s getting harder and harder to keep them apart. And I mean physically. Perfect example is Bree’s birthday party, which was two weeks ago. I’d invited all our friends. The New York college gang had all flown in from their respective states. The couples had all gotten engaged this year, and Zach and Troy had both been drafted. Zach now plays for the Eagles, and Troy for the Giants. Erin and I had really been looking forward to seeing them again and checking out our friends’ engagement rings in person.

  We’d been sitting around talking, the guys complaining about how many weddings they’d have to be in next year, us girls excited about it, when Josh had arrived. Late as usual. The second he’d walked in, Erin had made some lame excuse about needing to complete a project for school and left. She’d left her only goddaughter’s birthday party. I’d thought it was bad before they’d started sleeping together, the way they’d always sniped at each other. Well since they stopped having sex, it’s a hundred times worse. Now the four of us don’t hang out anymore. And things truly took a nose dive when Josh started dating Chloe. Mitch and I can’t even breathe his name around Erin if we don’t want the conversation to go south.

  Our wedding should be all kinds of fun.

  She lifts a slender shoulder in a shrug. “I’m fine with that.”

  I’ve known my best friend for over sixteen years. She is not even close to being “fine what that.” But I’m not going to argue with her.

  “Did I tell you Trent’s bringing a date to the party?” This is a first, so it’s huge. And since I’m finally going to meet the woman he’s dating, he must be serious about her.

  “Damn. Does that mean he’s off the market?” Erin teases.

  I huff a laugh. “For now, I guess.” If she was ever truly interested in Trent, she isn’t anymore. Their relationship has always been and still is completely platonic. “What about you? Are you coming?” Josh has yet to RSVP and she’s avoided giving me an answer for that reason.

  “Yes I’m coming. And I’m bringing a date.”

  A date? That’s news to me since she isn’t dating anyone right now. Hasn’t in the last six months. Or so I thought.

  “And who would that be?”

  “No one you know. Just a guy from work.”

  Erin is interning at AJC and is hoping to be hired on fulltime when she graduates in May.

  “Does this guy have a name?” The only time Erin’s ever been cagey about who she’s dating is when she’d done the no-friends just benefits thing with Josh.

  “Ethan.”

  My brow furrows. “How come you haven’t mentioned Ethan before.”

  “Because he’s new. He only started working at the paper last month, and I’ve only gone on a few dates with him. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about him now,” she says. “I want to talk about your engagement, and I need you to promise me that you’ll show me your ring the minute you’re back in town. That is, of course, after you show
it to me when you call tomorrow with the deets.”

  And like that she has me grinning like a drunk high on helium.

  Ethan who?

  Mitch

  I’m not sure I’ll even be able to kiss Paige goodnight tonight. If I can’t have it all—the full monty—why torture myself with only a small taste. Why make my suffering worse? I’m not into masochism in any form. But I’m seriously wondering how I’m going to make it through the night without me sneaking into her room, crawling into her bed, stripping her naked and screwing her mindless.

  “Do you want Daddy to read to you tonight?” I ask Bree, who is already rubbing her eyes as she fights sleep. She’s all pooped out from playing with her aunt and uncle, who see nothing wrong with bowing to her every wish.

  “Let me read to her, Mitch.” Tess thrusts her hand in the air as if she’s in class trying to get the teacher’s attention. My brother and sister finally dropped the uncle part three months ago, but they’d been working on it for a year. Old habits die hard. And I should know. Diane and Dan insisted I call them whatever I felt most comfortable with, but I know they are thrilled I chose to call them Mom and Dad.

  “I want to read too,” Doug says because now it has to be a competition. That’s how it is with us guys.

  “How about Grandma put you to bed tonight?” Diane asks, already reaching down for her hand. Too tired to walk, Bree silently stretches her arms out to her grandmother.

  Mom is quick to oblige her, scooping her up into her arms before addressing Doug and Tess. “C’mon kids, you can each read her one book.”

  “Daddy and I will be up in a bit to kiss you goodnight,” Paige calls out after them as they depart the family room. Smiling sleepily around the thumb thrust in her mouth, Bree nods.

  Just as I resume my seat on the sofa beside Paige, Dad pushes to his feet. “I have a dollhouse and one more bike to finish putting together, so I’ll see you all in the morning.”