#Holiday: A Hashtag Series Short Story (Hashtag #6.5) (2 page)

I took the right up ahead like I would normally to get to the cabin and then shot forward. The car following us turned, and I cussed.

“Hang on, baby.” I gritted my teeth and made a left, then a right, and another right.

I shot down the one-lane empty road I’d somehow found my way to and didn’t slow down until I was sure we’d lost all the reporters.

I sighed raggedly and let up on the gas. “I’m fucking sorry, Rim.”

Her eyes widened behind her glasses and the light from the dash glinted off the lenses. “Why would you be sorry?”

“They were already fucking insistent, and I pretty much just dangled a shiny golden nugget in front of them.” I picked up her hand and brought it to my lips. “I don’t want this for you.”

Gently, she pulled her hand from mine and brushed her palm over my stubbled jaw. “This is nothing,” she whispered, leaning across the seats toward me. “Nothing in terms of what I would endure to have a life with you.”

I slowed the car even more and rolled my head in her direction. “You shouldn’t have to
endure
anything.”

“Forget them,” she whispered. Her lips curved into a smile, and I was sorry I had to glance back at the road and miss it. “It’s our first Christmas Eve as husband and wife. We’re staying in a gorgeous log cabin, and there is snow on the ground. Take me home, husband. Take me to bed.”

A growl rumbled in my chest. I liked it on a very primitive level when she called me husband.

Since this was a back road and we were alone, I jerked the wheel to make a sharp U-turn right there in the center of the street. Rim wanted me to take her to bed, and I damn well was happy to oblige.

Unfortunately, my stellar driving was no match for the patch of black ice so well disguised on the dark pavement.

I felt the back tires lose traction before we started to fishtail. I resisted the urge to pound on the brakes, realizing it would only make us slide worse.

I did grip the wheel and attempt to right us. It was a lost effort.

The Hellcat was an awesome machine, but it wasn’t exactly prime for handling icy back roads, and we spun in a full circle.

Rimmel made a sound of distress, and I released the wheel entirely and used my arm nearest her as an extra seatbelt to pin her back against the leather.

“Romeo!” she squealed as the car skidded sideways off the road and went back end first right into an imposing snow bank.

Braeden

It was my daughter’s first Christmas.

Sure, she wasn’t going to remember it, but I always would.

This wasn’t how I wanted to spend it. Sneaking through the stadium, tension coiled between my shoulder blades, anticipating a fight when someone turned up with a camera.

I didn’t mind so much being photographed. Sure, it was annoying as hell, and Romeo handled it better than me, but it was part of the job.

But my daughter didn’t sign up for this shit.

I wasn’t going to have it. I wouldn’t allow Ivy and Nova to be stalked by the bloodsuckers just so they could make a couple bucks.

I’d give up football before I let that happen.

I felt bad because Rome and Rim pretty much took one for the team tonight. Fuck, I knew Romeo was just as annoyed as me, but I let him do it anyway. Looking at Rim, I almost relented and told them to disappear first. But I didn’t. That old familiar rage that lurked deep inside me was a little too close to the surface for my comfort. Ever since I saw Nova in Ivy’s arms and then held her in mine, it wasn’t hard to stir it up when I felt my family was being threatened.

My family stepped up to the plate tonight, and I’d have to make it up to them somehow.

As I secured the infant seat into the back of the new white Range Rover I’d bought Ivy the second my pro pay hit the account, I didn’t feel bad. I’d rack up a world of debt to keep this little girl safe and away from prying eyes.

When I pulled back to shut the door, Ivy slipped in quickly, sticking her head down close to her, making sure the baby was totally all right. It didn’t matter I’d just done it. Ivy had to see for herself. Turns out she had quite the mother lion in her.

I fucking loved it.

When she was satisfied, her blond head, covered in a thick red cable-knit hat, pulled back. I shut the door gently, so as not to startle a sleeping Nova.

“Hi,” I murmured, grasping her waist right at the place I called B handles and tugging her toward me. Fat, white flakes of snow fell lazily from the inky black sky and swirled around us. The tip of her nose was pink from the cold, and her dark lashes framed her wide eyes.

“Hey.” The throaty quality of her voice tightened my abs.

“All I could think about tonight was being alone with you guys.” I cupped the back of her neck and used my thumb to turn up her jaw.

“Me too,” she murmured and leaned up to kiss me.

Her full lips felt cold against mine, and I opened for her, covering her mouth totally, offering her warmth amongst the snow.

I twisted my tongue against hers and caught the distinct flavor of peppermint, and I smiled against her lips. “Someone’s been eating candy canes again,” I murmured.

“Maybe.” She giggled.

I wrapped both arms around her and lunged forward, bending her back and drinking in the full taste of her, with a little twist of peppermint.

This was how Christmas tasted.

It tasted like my wife, the love of my life. Like crisp wintry air and the sharp, sweet aftertaste of a candy cane.

It might be a taste better than sprinkles.

And that was saying something.

Her hands slid up like they wanted to tangle in my hair but couldn’t, so they changed direction and wrapped around my ears.

She held on to the sides of my head while I kissed the shit right out of her, and I felt her knees weaken and my arms had to take on more of her weight to keep her from falling.

The rumble of an engine made my arms turn stiff around her. I lifted my head and twisted around to see a car pull right up beside the Range Rover on the driver’s side.

Shit! I knew better than this. To get caught up in the parking lot of the stadium. We were trying to get away from the press, not give them something to photograph.

“In the car, baby,” I said quietly and deftly opened the passenger door and ushered Ivy inside. When I tried to pull back and shut the door, she caught my hand. I glanced down, noting how pale and small hers looked in mine.

“B?”

“Hmm?” I glanced up.

“Let’s just go, okay?”

It was her way of telling me to keep it in check. I let out a breath and nodded.

I prepared myself for the unpleasant encounter as I walked around the car. The second I stepped to the driver’s side, the door of the car that had pulled up beside us opened. I braced myself for a camera and a ton of questions.

But it wasn’t a reporter.

It was two girls. They were both dressed in Knight gear, including matching hats with huge orange pompoms on the top.

“Ohmigosh,” the girl rushed, all but falling out of the driver’s seat. “You’re him.”

I relaxed instantly. They were fans. Just overeager fans who sat in the parking lot waiting, hoping to catch a glimpse of one of the players.

I didn’t really feel like being charming, but a guy had to do what a guy had to do. It was my job. These girls sat out in the cold on a freaking holiday to watch the Knights play. They’d been here to support us, and I wouldn’t do one damn thing to make them regret it.

“Depends on which him you’re talking about,” I drawled and stepped forward to help her pick herself up off the ground.

“You’re
the
Braeden Walker.”

I chuckled. “I’m pretty sure I don’t have a
the
before my name.”

She giggled, and it didn’t escape my notice that she took a little too long getting her “balance” after I helped her up.

So it was going to be like that.

That
being the other part of my job. The women. Before Ivy, I would have been all
hells yeah
and
YOLO,
but not now. Now when a woman tried to be a little too friendly, my hackles rose. There was no way in hell these two bitches didn’t know I wasn’t married.

They knew.

They didn’t care.

That made them no-good, dirty scrubs in my book.

As if to punctuate my thoughts, the girl from the passenger side came rushing around next to her friend. Her eyes were bright and they roamed over my body.

Obvious much?

I ran my tongue over my teeth and then smiled a lopsided smile. “You ladies been out here a while?”

The driver nodded. “We really wanted to meet you.”

“Me?” I asked.

The both nodded enthusiastically, and yeah, some of my annoyance with their scrub-ish behavior melted. They were fans.

“You and Romeo light up the field.” The girl from the passenger seat sighed. Her hair was short, not quite shoulder length, and the brown ends flipped up and out beneath the hat.

The Knight hoodie she was wearing wasn’t overly large like the ones I was used to seeing on Ivy and Rim. It fit like it was supposed to, and she paired it with painted-on jeans and a pair of boots with purple socks sticking out the top.

Her friend had long blond hair that hung over her shoulders from beneath her hat. Her eyes were brown, and she had on a lot of makeup. Ivy wore makeup, but it never looked like that.

“I’ll be sure to tell Romeo you said so,” I said to the girl who’d just spoken, and I winked. She giggled and shifted closer to me. I kept my feet planted where they were because backing up was just rude. “The Knights appreciate you ladies coming out to support the team. Means a lot to us all.”

“But especially to you?” the driver said and leaned forward, placing a hand on my arm.

“Of course,” I said, smooth. “Did you want me to sign something?” I asked, wanting to get on with it.

“Please!” the brown-haired girl said fast. She hurried to the backseat of the car and reached in, bringing out a football. She handed me a gold marker and held it out with the ball. “Could you sign it to my brother? His name is Max. He’s twelve, and you’re his favorite player on the team. He’s going to pass out when he opens this tomorrow.”

For the first time since they started talking, I didn’t have to fake a smile. “You sat out here to get your kid brother a signed football for Christmas?”

Her cheeks turned even pinker than they already were. It wasn’t from the cold. “I’m a Knights fan, too,” she hedged. “But not like Max. He has a big poster of you by his bed.”

Well, I’d be damned. That made me feel like a fucking hero.

“Sa-weet,” I sang as I scrawled my name and number on the football. Then I wrote his name on it and a big smiley face.

“Oh my God,” she said when I gave it back to her. “Thank you so much!”

I grinned.

“Merry Christmas!” she shot out and then leapt at me. She was like half my size, so I caught her easily enough and hugged her, but with much less zealousness.

Finally, I peeled her off me and set her away.

“Well, it was awesome meeting you.”

“Wait,” the driver said. “Can you sign something for me?”

I turned on my fake smile. “Of course.”

The gold marker was back in my face, and I took it, using my teeth to uncap it. Both girls watched me like I was some kind of elusive attraction.

I gave them a grin around the cap, and they both sighed.

“Where’s your paper?” I asked the driver.

“Don’t have one,” she said and stepped forward.

The next thing I knew, she was thrusting her chest at me. “Can you sign my hoodie?” She pointed to a spot. “Right here.”

I threw back my head and laughed.

What?

Come on. I’m a freaking red-blooded man, and when a woman shoves her boobs in my face and asks me to sign them, it’s kinda flattering.

“You sure?” I asked.

It wasn’t the first time I’d been asked to sign a boob.

At least this one was clothed.

“Oh, I’m sure.” She batted her eyes.

I chuckled and used my left hand to hold the fabric tight while I scrawled my illegible signature across the top of her breast. When I was done, I handed her the marker.

“I’m never washing this shirt.” She sighed.

“Merry Christmas, ladies. Thanks again for supporting the Knights.” I glanced at the one with the little brother. “Tell Max I said hi.”

They watched me as I slipped into the Ranger Rover. I barely opened the door wide enough to get in and then fired up the engine.

I didn’t wait to drive away. I did so quickly and deftly, around my admirers, and left them in my rearview.

When we were almost to the edge of the lot, I looked over at Ivy, sheepish. She’d been watching me since I’d gotten in the car.

“More admirers?” she mused.

I relaxed a little. She wasn’t pissed. Every time women threw themselves at me in front of her, it made me nervous. It was one thing to know your husband had fans and admirers, but to see them up close and trying to get personal was something else.

So far, Ivy handled it okay, with only a few moments of icy stares at some of the bolder fans.

“They sat outside waiting for me,” I said.

When she didn’t say anything else, I turned and looked at her. She looked away quickly, turning her head to stare out the passenger window.

I still saw.

I saw a look I recognized. A look I’d seen once before.

Wistful, almost jealous, but… not quite.

It left me unsettled.

I didn’t like seeing that look in those blue eyes. It meant I wasn’t doing my job.

“Hey.” I reached for her, and at the same time, Nova made a noise and started fussing.

Ivy jumped up and turned, “It’s okay, sweetheart,” she crooned and started climbing into the backseat.

“Careful now,” I told her and slowed the car. I knew better than to tell her not to. It took me weeks just to get her to sit in the front seat instead of in the back with the baby. If I told her it wasn’t safe for her to be climbing around, she’d probably just start sitting back there again.

And yeah, maybe I sometimes climbed back there when I wasn’t driving, too.

“I think she’s hungry,” Ivy said and then started talking in soothing tones to our daughter. Seconds later, her fussing subsided and the light suckling sounds of her with the pacifier filled the car.