Exposed: New Adult Sport Romance (The Boys of Winter Book 5) (24 page)

S
cissors snip as I cut the last thread. Snapping out the heavy silk pants, I inspect my work. For Christmas I really wanted to sew something for Neal, and I decided on a dress shirt in the last of the vintage purple silk and a charcoal black pair of slacks. I couldn’t measure him without giving away the surprise, so I managed to sneak some of his clothes home instead.

My phone buzzes, and I’m thankful I finished just in time. Neal texted he’s on his way, and I have twenty minutes to wrap his gift and get my things together for our overnight trip. We’re spending Christmas Eve with my mother in Vail.

I’m excited to spend the holiday with my two favorite people. Even though they haven’t met yet, I know my mother will like Neal. I think Neal will enjoy my mother too, since people say we have the same humor.

Tape screeches out of the dispenser as I cut off a piece. My mother is making my favorite foods. Roast tenderloin, mashed potatoes, winter squash, and peas are probably going to bore my boyfriend, but Mom promised to add an interesting vegetable to the mix.

I have no doubt the wine and dessert Neal is bringing will round out the meal nicely. I plan to enjoy every bit of our dinner at a relaxed pace and bask in the love. Sliding the green Christmas print packages into a big canvas bag, I discover I’m humming “Jingle Bells.”

I let myself break out into song as I carry everything to the door. I imagine the look on my mom’s face when she opens her gift. I made her a dress out of magenta raw silk with velvet piping and a sheer antique lace jacket. I’m so excited about it I can’t wait for her to put it on and wish we were opening gifts tonight instead of tomorrow morning.

Stepping into the bathroom to make sure I packed my toothbrush, I don’t hear the door open and come back out to a grinning Neal. I stop singing and snort. “Figures you’d hear me. But I’m in such a good mood, I don’t care.”

“I love that you’re singing Christmas songs. This is going to be fun.” He picks up the bag of gifts. “Which one is mine?”

“You’ll find out tomorrow.” My door slams shut, and the icy metal knob stings my hand when I yank to make sure it locked. “I’m so glad you think tonight will be fun.”

“Why wouldn’t I? I’ve got great wine, food, and company on Christmas Eve. Last year all I got was phone calls.”

“Oh, Neal, that’s so sad. I’m sorry.” He must have left the keys in the ignition because the car dings when he opens the door for me.

“Don’t be. It’s been my life for years now. That’s the nature of restaurant and retail businesses.”

My seatbelt clicks into place. “Well, I’m glad we both found a way to sneak off for part of the holiday this year.” I scheduled Ruby Raines to close at five tonight, and I’ll open at noon tomorrow.

“The people that work for me are in shock.” Neal places a hand on my thigh, and I thread my fingers through his. “They think you’re good for me.”

“You’re pretty good for me, too.” I think about Trevor. Casey told me he’s dating another instructor and still partying almost every night. I have to wonder if Neal hadn’t been tempting me if I would’ve continued to try to make things with Trevor work. If I had, I suspect I wouldn’t be as giddy as I am right now.

“Can we play Christmas music? I think we need to sing our way to Vail.”

Neal chuckles and clicks on the radio. We both join in on a version of “Let It Snow.”

***

When we arrive at my mother’s house, it’s been snowing for a while. I get out of the car and lift my face to the sky to feel, the tiny bits of frozen moisture melt on my warm skin. “I love snow on Christmas. Don’t you?”

Neal kisses the tip of my nose. “I love you, and the way simple things like this make you happy.”

I kiss him back in a way I know makes him want more. “I love you, too.”

When I pull away, my mother is standing behind the glass storm door and smiling. I race to her as she steps out. “It’s about time you stopped making out and greeted me.”

I hug her tight and inhale her familiar scent. “Mom, it’s so great to see you.” I step back and touch Neal’s arm. “This is Neal. Neal, this is my mother.”

He steps forward and extends a hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Raines.” I grin at his polite way but know my mother will have a fit being called Mrs.

“Oh, no, you don’t. I’ve never been a Mrs., and I’m not about to start. Call me Rachael.”

She ushers us in, and the sound of a fire crackling captures my attention as the odor of roasting beef surrounds us. “It smells so good in here. I can’t wait to eat.”

My mother’s house is a two-story building with the bedrooms on the second floor. The kitchen is off to the right, and Neal heads that way to put a bag on the counter. When he comes out my mom leads us upstairs. “You’ll be staying here.”

We enter a small bedroom with pale pink walls and Laura Ashley bedding on a queen-sized bed. It’s smaller than we’re used to, but I’m sure we’ll manage just fine. Especially since I plan on doing nothing more than sleeping under my mother’s roof.

We set our bags down and follow my mom back to the main floor. She says, “Neal, why don’t you open the wine? Everything you need is on the counter.”

He goes to the kitchen, and my mother whispers to me, “So cute. And quite charming.”

“You’re going to love him, I just know it. Thanks for having us.” We move toward the navy brushed-suede couch and I sit.

Mom sets herself next to me with a leg tucked under her, and I think I might take my boots off too. She says, “Baby girl, thanks for coming. I was afraid you might not with your business and new man.”

“I can’t imagine not being with you on Christmas, Mom. It wouldn’t be the same.” I tug a boot off and let it thud to the floor before working on the second one.

“Thanks for that, but one day you’ll have your own family, and it may not work out. I’ll just do my best to enjoy you until then.” She reaches up for the glass Neal holds out to her. “Thank you.”

I’m tempted to tell her I plan on my children’s grandmother being present every Christmas but decide to keep that thought to myself as Neal hands me my wine and picks up my boots. He says, “This is a Zinfandel that should be wonderful with tenderloin.”

When he walks away, my mother glances at my feet and nods toward him to indicate she noticed he took my boots to the front door where she keeps hers. I grin and say, “He’s always doing little things like that. It’s pretty awesome.”

She takes a sip of her wine as Neal returns to sit in the chair by us. “Oh, yum, this is good, Neal.”

I’ve tasted it too and recognize the flavor. “Is this the Earthquake?”

Neal nods. “It is, and I have two more bottles in case you ladies decide to get crazy.”

“Careful, I’ll start twirling.”

His eyes dance at my words, and my mother giggles. She proceeds to launch into stories of me as a little girl. We spend the next half hour learning about little Ruby, much to my embarrassment and Neal’s delight.

Mom says, “All right, enough with the stories, I need to work on dinner.” She gets up, and I go join her in the kitchen.

“Tell me what to do.”

She puts me to work, and Neal stands in the doorway watching, because my mom won’t let him help. When dinner is ready, I hand him two bowls to carry to the dining room. Mom says, “Matches are on the table. Could you light the candles please, Neal?”

“I sure will.”

When everything is set, we sit and Mom raises her glass. “To a wonderful Christmas Eve, thank you both for celebrating with me.” She puts a hand over her heart. “I’m blessed.”

We all drink, and Neal says, “Thank you, Rachael, for inviting me. I feel quite blessed myself.” He tips his glass toward us, and we do the same back.

I swallow another mouthful and say, “At the risk of getting everyone drunk, I’m going to toast too. To an evening with the two people I love most.” This time I take a sip and savor it while I make a silent wish that this is the first of many Christmas Eves with my mother and Neal.

Silverware clinks on dishes as we serve ourselves. My knife slices easily through the beef, and the moment it hits my tongue, I close my eyes in appreciation. “Oh, my, this is delicious, Mom.”

Neal says, “It really is. You cooked it to perfection.”

Mom grins. “You two are easy to please.” But I know our compliments mean something to her.

She says, “Neal, tell me about your family and how you ended up here.”

My mother peppers him with questions, and I learn more about the man I love. It makes me think I should have brought him here sooner, and I don’t bother to rescue him. Not that I need to, because he seems to be enjoying the give and take of sharing and learning more about me.

After dinner we sit with dessert and coffee by the fire and continue to tell stories. I recall Christmas Eves in my past where my mom and I would retell tales and laugh as we’re doing now. A piece of me believes it’s possible that Neal could be part of my family one day and that next year we could be closer to it.

Later that night, I cuddle into Neal under the covers of my mother’s guest room bed and say, “You fit right in with my mom. She likes you.”

“I like her, too. She’s easy to be around, just like you.”

“Now I know you lie. I’m not easy to be around unless you know me. I’m cold and not good with groups. But thank you for pretending I’m not.”

Neal strokes my face in the dark, and I lean into his touch. “You’re not cold. You’re reserved until you get to know someone. That isn’t a bad thing. Who told you it was?”

Trevor. “It’s just something I’ve always known about myself.”

“Well, you’ve thought wrong all these years.” His hands lower to my butt. “Nothing cold about this.” I can’t help but giggle, and he says, “As for not being good in a crowd, I don’t see it. Don’t you know that extroverts love thinking you’re hanging on their every word?”

I snort. “Are you describing yourself?”

Neal nuzzles my neck. “I am. Don’t ruin my fantasy because I think you find me the most important person in the room.”

I snuggle against his chest and whisper into his ear, “I do. You’re the most important person in my world.”

“And you’re mine, Ruby. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Neal.”

Chapter 36

Ch
ristmas morning means coffee and tea with presents then bacon, eggs, and pancakes afterward. When the aroma of caffeine floats upstairs, I become aware of the hairy leg draped over me. Waking up to Neal has made me a morning person, and I can’t help but rub my hand over his chest as I lean on my elbow and gaze down at him.

“Merry Christmas.”

Neal blinks and rubs his eyes. “Merry Christmas.” His voice is husky with sleepiness, and I’m tempted to rub lower. “I’m surprised you haven’t dragged me down to see what’s in the stockings yet. I took you for the hop-out-of-bed-for-Santa type.”

“I am, but I have the best present ever right here.” I move my hand down and press against his morning erection.

He flips me onto my back, and I let out a squeal. “I thought you said no sex in your mother’s house.” He nuzzles my neck and I sigh.

“Right, but maybe if we’re really quiet.”

Neal lifts up to laugh. Reaching between my legs he strokes me, and says, “This is the one thing you aren’t quiet about. But I’m willing if you are.”

I grip him and stroke right back, but even Neal’s fingers can’t keep my mind off the fact my mother is downstairs. I shake my head and stop. “I can’t. It just feels wrong, and it’s not like we can’t have sex pretty much anytime we want every other day.”

Neal groans. “Okay, but you’ll pay for teasing me like this.”

I get out of bed and say, “Happily.”

Minutes later, we descend to Christmas music and another fire. A teakettle thuds on the stove, and my mother calls out, “I’m putting water on for you, Ruby. Neal, how do you like your coffee?”

“Milk or cream, whatever you have.”

He walks into the kitchen as I wander toward the tree. Simply decorated with tiny clear lights, clear glass ornaments, and burgundy, pink, and gold ribbons, it’s elegant. When I was a kid, we had the traditional tree with the random collection of ornaments, but last year my mother went with something that appeals to her decorator heart. While I understand, and it’s lovely, I long for the old version.

I finger a crystal ornament and watch it catch the light, making it appear magical. Thoughts of my daughter drift into my mind. I wonder if she celebrates Christmas and if her tree has a tacky grade-school-created ornament. I shake off my sadness and realize it’s been weeks since I let myself drift off with those thoughts.

Neal has come over with his coffee in hand, and he slips an arm around my waist. I lean against his warm strength. He asks, “What are you thinking about? We lost you for a moment.”

“Just remembering past holidays. Our tree used to be tacky, with homemade ornaments. This one is prettier.”

“It is lovely, but I think the tacky ones are great, too. I like the stories that go with each decoration.”

I smile up at him. “And that’s just one more reason I love you. We have equally terrible taste.”

My mother hands me a steaming mug of cinnamon orange tea. “Let me guess, you’re complaining about my designer tree, aren’t you?”