Santa's Pet (7 page)

~ Brittney ~

I must be so out of it, I’m dreaming. Why would Ben call me at work in the middle of the night?

“Who’s this again?” I wipe the tears from my eyes.

“Ben Powers.”

There’s no mistaking that deep voice which even now, scrapes tingles up my back and turns my legs to jelly.

I slam down the phone. I have nothing to say to him. My grandfather has nothing to say to his grandfather. Not a single member of the Reed family will ever speak to one of theirs, ever. Pappy made sure of that. He’s already called or emailed all of his descendants, including my cousins to the second and third degree.

It’s too bad for Lacy because she’s friends with Marcia Powers, Ben’s cousin, but that’s the way things work in my neck of the woods. Hatfields and McCoys have nothing on us! Humpf.

The phone rings again, as I expect. I stare at it but don’t pick it up. The voice mail light changes color and it starts ringing again.

I’m going to have to call Security.

I stalk to a conference room and peek out from behind the vertical blinds. Sure enough, he’s there, standing at the entry at the guest phone.

His shoulders are hunched and he keeps running his hand through his hair. There he goes, punching in my number again.

I don’t want to sic the police on him. But he’s not giving up. That kind of man is used to getting his way. Aggressive guy who pushes his way around for a living.

Well, I’m not afraid of him. I stomp back to my office and pick up the phone.

“Please leave before I call the police.”

“Call them. I’m prepared to go back to jail.”

“What? Are you nuts?”

“I’ll do anything if you’ll speak to me.”

“If you’re trying to scare me, forget it. I don’t scare easily, so take that attitude and shove it.” I slam the phone again, cringing because the new desk phones are more dainty than sturdy.

It’s obviously not broken because it starts ringing again.

He’s asking for it. I pick up my cell phone to call the cops when it rings. It’s Lacy.

“Brittney, Grandpa Powers has had another heart attack.”

“He has? Where is he?”

“He’s all alone. Ben left, so he called Pappy.”

“Oh, shit. Ben’s outside my company banging on the door. I was just about to call the police.”

“We called 9-1-1 already and they’re on their way. Can you tell Ben?”

“Of course.” My heart sinks and I swallow hard. “Is it bad?”

“We don’t know. He was barely speaking when Pappy picked up the phone.”

I drop my cell phone and run through the lobby to the front door, but Ben’s not there.

I dash to the parking lot in time to see the taillights of his truck headed for the exit.

“Ben! Ben!” I yell at the top of my lungs. I can’t catch him, so I pick up a rock and throw it as hard as I can.

Crack! His driver’s side window crumbles.

The truck jerks to a stop and Ben jumps out.

“What the hell?” He stares at the window, and then spies me running toward him. “What did you do that for? You’re a crazy woman.”

“Your … your …” I’m so out of breath I throw myself at him. “He-heart at-at.”

He grabs me as I bounce off his rock hard chest, gasping for breath.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” His large hands steady me.

I shake my head. “Grandpa had a heart attack.”

He stares at me a moment. “Is he okay? Do you want me to call my grandfather?”

“No, I mean, it’s your grandpa.” I cover my face and burst into tears.

The next thing I know, he’s brushing the crumbled glass from the driver’s seat and pushing me onto the bench of his truck. By reflex, I strap on my seatbelt, but I can’t stop the tears from flowing.

If Grandpa Powers dies, it’ll be my fault. If I hadn’t started the family feud by allowing Owen to threaten to sue Ben for sexual harassment, Grandpa Powers would have been at our house having dinner and watching the game instead of by himself.

Ben guns his engine and takes off at a high speed. The wind whips the cab of the truck, so I open the passenger side window to balance it out. Fog has descended over the San Francisco Bay and I left my jacket at work.

Shuddering, I bend over and hold myself together, but the tears won’t stop. Pappy and Grandpa Powers were best buddies since they came back from the Korean War.

There’s a lull in the traffic noise before I realize Ben is pulling to the side of the road.

“What happened?” I wipe my eyes.

He unstraps his seat belt and shrugs out of his leather jacket. “Here, you’re cold.”

“No, don’t mind me. I’m the enemy.”

“You’re not.” He takes my left hand, threading it through the sleeve. “I told my lawyer to retract the slurs, or I’m firing her. It wasn’t my idea to drag your name through social media.”

“I can’t believe all the horrible things people are saying about me.” I jerk my hand from him. “Don’t touch me.”

He raises both hands and huffs. “I suppose you’re going to say I assaulted you because I touched your hand?”

“I’m not a liar.” I fix my glare at him.

“Then tell me, Miss Reed, do you believe I sexually harassed you? Did I make you uncomfortable? Did I come on to you? Proposition you?”

“I’m not answering that.” I push my other hand through the other sleeve so I’m wearing the jacket backwards. “Why are we stopped at the side of the road? Should I be worried?”

“I’m the one who should be worried.”

“You? Ha. I’m not exactly capable of fighting you off.”

“You won’t have to.” He grasps the steering wheel with both hands. “The problem with beautiful women—you think every guy wants a piece of you.”

My mouth drops into a long ‘O.’ “Me? It’s you athletes who think every woman wants you. Maybe you’re used to them pawing all over you, but that’s not me. I had absolutely no interest other than helping you, and for that, I’m the one who’s being called a slut.”

“You were dressed inappropriately for a family event where children were present.” He fixes me with a stern glare.

“That’s not for you to judge.” I cross my arms over my chest and jut out my jaw. “Are we going to the hospital or not?”

He blinks at me for a long second, then sighs. “Let’s not fight about it right now. The fog is slowing me down, and I don’t want to get into an accident. Will you pray for my grandfather while I drive?”

His calm words shame me. Grandpa Powers is more important than whether Ben thinks I was dressed appropriately or not.

I bite my lips and swallow a lump. “I will. If anything happens to him, it’ll be my fault.”

“I’m the one who upset him,” Ben says and puts the truck in gear. “Right before I showed up at your work, I told him I was looking for you. I wanted to let you know how bad I felt about what my lawyer did.”

“It was a low blow turning public opinion against me to save your neck.”

But then, Owen’s false accusations of sexual harassment were just as low, except they would be done in court, and not over social media.

“I should have stopped her, I mean, my lawyer,” Ben continues to explain. “But I was so upset, I didn’t pay full attention to her. I just knew my career would be ruined with a conviction of indecent exposure.”

“I don’t want to ruin your career.” I snuggle into Ben’s soft, heated jacket. His scent is faint, but sensual and stimulating—like heated amber and musk.

The truck speeds up and even though the wind buffets the cab, I’m warm and protected. I say a prayer for Ben’s grandfather and my lips tremble when I add one for Ben—that he’ll make the draft and that his dreams will come true.

Despite the gossip online, I don’t want to trip him up, and I’m definitely not after his potential earnings. He shouldn’t look down on me—as if having large breasts were an invitation to getting harassed.

I take a peek at him, but he catches me, so I look away. Ordinarily, I don’t let a man affect me, especially not a jock who swaggers around and expects everyone to cater to him. But Ben seems different. Most young men wouldn’t spend their vacation looking after an ailing grandfather and being substitute Santa for him.

I can’t help but look at him again. This time, he keeps his eyes on the road, although from the tightening of his jaw, he’s aware of me peeking. Fog drapes all around us, and it feels like we’re in a misty cocoon together. Except I’m warm and he’s cold, his skin tight with goosebumps.

“Do you want the jacket back?” I barely move, because it feels so good to be covered.

“No, Brittney. It’s the least I can do after dragging you into the truck. I didn’t mean to kidnap you.”

“It’s okay. Better you drive than me trying to follow in Lacy’s Mustang.”

“You would have come along?” His eyebrows form a question and the grin that crosses his face is surprisingly sweet.

“He’s like a grandfather to me. Did you know I believed in Santa Claus until I was fifteen and finally figured out Santa wasn’t Grandpa Powers?”

Ben knocks his head back and laughs. “Seriously? You thought Grandpa was
the
Santa?”

“Yep, and we were the most special kids because we got to know him all year round. I used to tell my schoolmates that Santa didn’t really live in the North Pole. He lives in Sebastopol behind our tree farm.”

“I wish I got to hang around more growing up. But after my dad remarried, we were forced to live in Wyoming. Dad doesn’t really speak to Grandpa.”

“What happened?” I reach out and touch his shoulder.

“One of those family things.” His face darkens and he presses his lips together, returning his focus to the faint traces of taillights in front of us.”

“I didn’t mean to pry.”

“I know you didn’t. I’m just not ready to talk about it.”

There’s real pain in his voice, so I respect it, except I can’t help but stare at his profile.

Of all the Powers boys, Ben’s the most handsome—at least in my opinion. Sleek dark brown hair, high cheekbones, and a prominent nose between those soulful brown eyes.

Nope, he doesn’t look like the Hallmark card Santa with the rosy cheeks, puffy nose, and twinkling blue eyes. But he’s every bit like the Santa I grew up with, except younger, stronger, and way more exciting.

~ Ben ~

Ben swallowed the golf ball sized lump in his throat. He couldn’t believe Brittney was actually interested in his family problems. Maybe she was just being nice or keeping the conversation going, but he couldn’t understand why his mother had been closer to his father’s parents—a strange situation all around since he had no clue why they’d turned against his father—other than his remarrying so quickly.

As for Grandpa, he hoped he’d gotten to the hospital in time and that it wasn’t too late. God help him if he’d never have another moment with his grandfather. Because of football, he rarely had time to visit during the holidays. He was always busy with the post-season bowl games and playoffs. Summers were spent in conditioning camps, and of course, his full course load majoring in Financial Economics was tougher than most athletes who took easier majors.

Thankfully, the fog cleared north of the Golden Gate Bridge, and he was able to step on the accelerator all the way through Marin County. Brittney was strangely silent, but definitely not asleep. Every time he looked at her, she’d look back, or was already glancing at him. She’d turn away, and he’d snap his eyes back to the road.

He shouldn’t be thinking about her, but the harder he tried to push her from his mind, the more she intruded. He wanted to know everything about her, not just her accomplishments and what was written about her on the internet, but things no one else knew—like what she did when no one was looking, and who she looked up to growing up, what her secret wishes were, and what kind of man she dreamed about as a life partner.

Would she be compatible with another technical guy, or would they compete with each other? Did she want a family man who’d fix everything around the house or a business executive who spent his life on a jet but took her to fancy parties with important people? She was too smart and resourceful to need a dumb jock like him. Her “men like you” comment had stung, as if he were only a knuckle dragging caveman in her eyes.

He huffed to himself. A caveman with a big club going around hitting people. A big man on or off the football field who slammed into other guys for a living. When he went in for a tackle, he envisioned not just stopping the guy, but going straight through him as if his target were a mere ghost.

He was definitely not the type of man someone like Brittney would want. Which was why he had no time for women or dating. The typical women who chased after football players were only in it for the parties, expensive jewelry, penthouses, and high-end cars.

He wasn’t so stupid not to know what he was bringing to the table. A large body, muscles, prestige at being hooked up with an athlete, and when he turned pro—the money that went with the lifestyle. It was definitely not his brains, wit, or charm that attracted a football groupie to his side.

Except every time Brittney pouted or spoke, and those alluring lips moved, he’d forget her standards and wonder how it would feel to kiss her, to lick and touch, and handle her with care, to feel her soften in his arms and yes, dammit, to caress those two jutting honeydews and make her moan and beg …

A deep hunger overtook him so that he had to clench his jaw and keep his eyes on the blurry road. He was in enough trouble. If she truly believed he’d sexually harassed her, he'd better stay as far away from her as he could.

Thankfully, the hospital lights shone through the redwood trees, and Ben pulled his truck into the parking circle near the emergency entrance.

He grabbed his phone and asked Brittney for her grandfather’s phone number. After she recited it, he texted him.
Brittney and I are outside. Where’s everyone?

The reply was almost immediate.
Upstairs at the ICU waiting room.

“Is he okay?” Brittney grabbed onto Ben’s arm, peering at the phone.

“ICU. Let’s go.”

Her face blanched, and she jumped out of the truck before he had time to get her door.

Grabbing her around the shoulder, he ran with her to the hospital entrance.