Mistletoe and Margaritas (5 page)

“Lube job isn’t the sexiest euphemism I’ve ever heard,” she said, her voice heavy with suppressed laughter. “But you did give me one helluva tune-up.”

He laughed and then shook his head. “Wise ass.”

With amusement written all over her face, Claire dug into her breakfast, so he followed suit. But, as the food slowly disappeared, the tension grew thick again.

Pretty soon it would be time for him to go and he had no idea where they stood. Was she even expecting him to go or was he supposed to spend the day with her? And, if he went, did he kiss her goodbye?

The only thing he knew for sure was that he’d made one hell of a mess of things.

He was swallowing the last bite of his veggie omelet when she said softly, “Did I wreck everything? Is it going to
stay
weird now?”

“You didn’t wreck anything.” Except maybe
him,
since there was something that sounded a lot like regret in her voice.

“I haven’t been with anybody since Brendan.” She wouldn’t look at him, concentrating instead on moving a mushroom around her plate. “I just wanted to…I just…I shouldn’t have put you in that position.”

“Hey, that happened to be my favorite position.”

She rewarded him with a laugh, but it was a quick one and then she grew serious again. “I mean it. You were Brendan’s best friend. You’re
my
best friend. It was wrong of me to throw myself at you because I was a little lonely at night. Your friendship means everything to me and I just hope I didn’t screw it up.”

He forced himself to look her straight in the eye. “Our friendship means more to me than anything, Claire. You know that. And I shouldn’t have let it happen. You were my buddy’s girl and that makes you off-limits. It won’t ever happen again.”

“Let’s chalk it up to too much to drink.” She was full of crap and they both knew it. He’d seen her drunk before and she was nowhere near plastered last night. And neither was he. “Forget it ever happened.”

Forget what was seared into his very soul? Not freakin’ likely. He suspected when he was ninety years old and couldn’t remember where he’d left his teeth, he’d still remember the jolt of her blue eyes looking into his and the whisper of his name on her lips as he moved inside her. “Forget what ever happened?”

She grinned and the world felt mostly okay again.

By the time they’d cleaned up the breakfast dishes and put everything away, the awkwardness between them was almost gone. She went on and on about Christmas and shopping and what she wanted to buy for Nicole now that she was old enough to really get a kick out of the holiday. He said the right words in the appropriate places, but his mind refused to concentrate on the mostly one-sided conversation.

He’d managed to royally put the screws to himself this time, and there was no way out of it.

If he walked away from her, she’d not only be hurt, but she’d probably blame herself for not going to bed—alone—when he told her to. He couldn’t bring himself to do that to her. But if wanting her and not being able to have her was hard before, now it was going to be downright torture. Now he’d know without a doubt what he’d be missing.

He’d deal with it, though, for Claire’s sake. Even if it killed him.

Claire was doing nothing much but alternating between staring at the row of photos on her bookshelf and glaring at the stupid sprig of mistletoe when Penny showed up Tuesday afternoon with the timecards for payroll. She stood in the kitchen to take off her snowy coat and boots, but did a double take when she saw Claire.

“The Sandman delete you from his GPS or what?”

Always nice to know the lack of sleep was
that
visible on her face. “Rough couple of nights, I guess.”

“It’s really coming down out there.”

Which meant Justin would be out plowing and he hadn’t called her. Maybe it was because he knew she had a standing appointment with Penny. Or maybe it was because, since Sunday, he’d had more time to think about the night they’d spent together and he was putting some distance between them.

She knew all
she
had done was think about it. Mostly while she was supposed to be sleeping. At the time, she’d tried to chalk it up to a raging case of libido neglect meeting being dosed with a steady flow of cranberry margaritas, but she was going to have to face facts. Any guy who knew his way around the female body
wouldn’t
do. The need that was building all over again and making her toss and turn at night was definitely Justin-specific.

“I can’t stay and chat today,” Penny said. “Dentist. But call me later if you want to talk. You look like you need a shoulder. Or a drink.”

“Last thing I need is a drink.”

That got Penny’s attention and she looked at her watch. “You have three minutes to tell me what alcohol made you do. And who it made you do it with.”

She didn’t need three minutes. She didn’t even need three seconds. “I got waylaid by a migraine, that’s all. And alcohol doesn’t help.”

Penny would probably be hurt to know Claire was lying to her, but she didn’t think Justin wanted their business to become the latest fertilizer for the town grapevine. And neither did she.

“No offense, Claire, but that’s boring as hell. You need to go out and have a good time.” She shoved her feet back into her boots. “How’s the migraine now?”

“Better. Just need to catch up on my sleep now.”

She tried, after Penny left. Curling up on the couch with Moxie, Claire tried to nap, but she could see the snowflakes falling outside the window and they made her think of Justin. Then she heard the big state plow truck go by and made herself close her eyes.

If the town and the state were out plowing, so was Justin and she couldn’t stop herself from wondering if he’d stop by, looking for food—since he wouldn’t make pool and pizza night—or a power nap. Or maybe some company if he hadn’t been lying about their friendship still being solid.

It was dusk when she woke to Moxie knitting her claws in her sweatshirt and the sound of somebody rummaging around in her fridge. For a long moment she just lay there, soaking up the normalcy. Then Moxie jumped down and sauntered over to figure-eight her way around Justin’s ankles and she knew the jig was up.

“I stopped at that deli you like and got a couple of turkey bulkies and a bucket of German potato salad. Are you out of mustard?”

“There’s a new one in the cabinet.” She sat up and tried to rub the lingering sleep from her eyes. “You should have called. I would have had everything ready.”

“By the time I thought of it, I was almost here.”

She went into the bathroom and when she emerged, he had everything spread out on the table so all she had to do was sit. “Has the snow let up any?”

“It’s winding down. After I eat, I’ll probably make another quick pass for clients who have to get in or out before eight o’clock or so tomorrow morning and I’ll do the rest then.”

She nodded and took a bite of her bulky, shuddering a little as he drizzled mustard over the top of his potato salad.

Justin paused with his first forkful halfway to his mouth, looking at her. “You gonna ride with me tonight?”

“Sure.” There, that was casual and to the point. Not even a hint of the insane relief she felt at this small sign they were back on track.

And that was good, even if the track was going to have a few more potholes in it than it had before. All she had to do was pretend she’d forgotten the night they’d spent together and never thought about how amazing and wonderful the sex had been between them.

If she lied to herself—and to him—long enough, maybe someday it would become the truth.

She smelled so good. Even as Justin tried to concentrate on not hitting Mrs. Wilson’s car while backdragging the plow to clear the snow from behind it, he was aware of how delicious Claire smelled. Which, of course, led him directly back to those thoughts about how good she tasted he’d sworn he wasn’t going to think anymore.

“How was opening day?” she asked, and it took him a few seconds to clear his head and realize she was talking about snowmobiling.

“It was good. Chris and I put on about sixty miles. Not a lot, but they’re still getting the trails in shape and it was a good shakedown run.” Mrs. Wilson’s driveway was done, so he raised the plow and pulled out onto the road to head to the next place.

“That’s good.” She was staring out the side window and he wondered what she was thinking about. “Is Brendan’s snowmobile still in your garage?”

That answered that. “Yeah.”

“I was thinking about learning how to drive it. Maybe go out with you sometimes.”

He laughed and nudged her arm with his elbow. “You? Out in the woods in the freezing cold?”

“I might like it.”

“Or you might whine.”

She turned away from the window to slap at him. “I don’t whine.”

When he grabbed her wrist to keep her from hitting him, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to slide his hand down and interlock his fingers with hers. She didn’t pull away and he rested their joined hands on the seat between them.

“If you really want to ride, I’ll teach you,” he said. “But Brendan’s machine’s too much for you. If you’re serious, I’ll take it and trade it in for something more your speed.”

“Would that bother you? Letting it go, I mean.”

He could see her watching his profile through the corner of his eyes, so he shrugged like it was no big deal. “It’s just a sled, Claire. I started it up the other day and was thinking it was a damn shame, the way it just sits there.”

“You love snowmobiling more than anything,” she said softly. “I’d like to do that with you.”

He squeezed her fingers. “I’ll call the shop and see what kind of deal they’ll give me.”

Then he had to let her go, needing both hands to navigate down the dirt road that led to the Swenson house. The town did a half-ass job of plowing the road, but they didn’t touch the driveways. Harry Swenson lived in the last house on the road, isolated from his neighbors. He worked nights, so he’d already left. Justin would give it a quick swipe to make it easier for him to get home.

While he worked, she went back to staring out her window, which worried him. She was usually a chatterbox while they were out plowing, to the point he’d sometimes regret taking her because she wouldn’t shut up.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked her, putting the truck in Park and killing the headlights so he could give her his full attention.

“Kissing you again,” she said to the window.

He was surprised the windows didn’t fog up from the rush of heat that washed over him. “You pro or con?”

“I’m still afraid it’ll ruin our friendship in the long run.”

“I hate to say it, but having it between us all the time like the big, horny elephant in the room isn’t doing it any favors, either.”

“So what are we going to do about it?”

What he
should
do was put the truck in gear, put his foot on the gas and drop her off—alone—at her apartment. What he did instead was shove a whole bunch of crap onto the passenger side floor and then take her hand to tug her over to his side of the truck. “What do
you
think we should do about it?”

“Maybe we just need to…get it out of our systems.”

There was no way that was ever going to happen. “We could just play it by ear.”

Since she was already kicking off her boots, he figured she was okay with that idea. “Can anybody see us?”

“No.” It was getting warm in the truck all of a sudden, so he reached out and slid the fan controls down to low. So what if the windows fogged up? As a matter of fact, he was hoping they would.

She kissed him, long and slow and sweet, while their elbows bumped into things because she was trying to shimmy out of her jeans and he was trying to get a condom from his wallet in the back pocket of his.

“Slow down,” he whispered against her mouth.

“Can’t. Don’t want to. I need you, Justin.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Once he got his wallet free, he lifted his hips enough to drag his jeans down and covered himself with the condom. Then she covered him with
her
and the windows steamed like a sauna.

“I’ve been thinking about this since the night of the Christmas party,” she said, her breath against his cheek as she moved slowly, stroking him.

He’d been thinking about it a lot longer than that, but it wasn’t the time for
that
discussion. Not when she was moving up and down like that, making him forget…whatever it was keeping them from doing this all the damn time. It wasn’t going to last long and then he’d probably remember, but for now all he knew was the feel of her body, her breasts in his hands and her mouth against his.

He felt her body tensing and he wanted to slow her down, but she was in control and she quickened the pace until he thought he’d explode. She dug her nails into his shoulders as she came and, with a groan, he let himself go.

It was a few hot, breathless minutes before Claire kissed his neck and climbed off him. With nowhere else to put it, he fished around under the seat for an empty doughnut bag, dropped the condom in it and balled it up.

All he had to do was yank up his jeans, but he gave her an extra couple minutes in the foggy cocoon of the cab to get most of her clothes on before turning the defroster to high, just in case somebody
was
watching. She was laughing as she leaned down to find her boots, and he flipped on the dome light to help. Her left hand was braced against the dash and the unexpected glimpse of white skin where her wedding band had been killed any desire he’d had to laugh along with her.

He’d done it again, dammit. And he didn’t feel any better about it this time than he had after the last time.

Claire finally got herself straightened out and flopped into her seat, buckling her seatbelt. “I really needed that.”

He turned off the dome light, thankful for the sudden blanket of darkness broken only by the dim dashboard lights. “Yeah, me too.”

She was the one who took his hand this time and he started the drive back to her place with his head all screwed up. Part of him was happy and sated and wanted to curl up in Claire’s bed and fall asleep. The other part was disgusted. He’d not only slept with his buddy’s girl again, but he’d done it knowing it put his friendship with her back on shaky ground.

“So you’ll call the dealership about Brendan’s sled?” she asked after a few miles. “Soon? I really want to go riding with you.”

A hard jab of grief hit him in the gut at the thought of trading in the sled, along with a fresh rush of guilt. Taking Brendan’s girl. Getting rid of his sled. It was too much. “Yeah. I’ll let you know what they say.”

She didn’t say anything else and, when she let go of his hand to hit the skip button on the CD player when a song came on she didn’t like, he shifted his right hand to the steering wheel. She didn’t seem to notice though. Just started singing along with the next song and pointing out her favorite Christmas lights as they passed the cheery houses.

Tightening his grip, he concentrated on the road and fought the urge to pull over so he could beat his head against the steering wheel. He’d managed to screw everything up this time, only this time it was worse. Not only was there no alcohol to blame, no matter how flimsy that excuse had been, but she didn’t seem to have any regrets. He couldn’t let her think they were starting anything.

When he finally pulled into her driveway, he put the truck in Park, wondering how the hell he was going to get himself out of this. He just wanted to go home, max out the iPod’s volume and beat the crap out of the speed bag hanging in his basement for a while.

Claire was scowling up at her window, though, and not paying any attention to him. “I know I left the kitchen light on.”

But the apartment was dark now, which meant he’d have to go upstairs with her. He shut off the truck and put his hand out. “Give me your keys.”

She was on his heels as he went up the stairs and unlocked her door. The living room light went on when he flipped the switch and everything looked untouched. Moxie twisted around his ankles before moving on to Claire to be picked up and coddled. He peeked into her bathroom and bedroom and didn’t find anything out of place, so he dragged the kitchen chair over to the sink and climbed up to remove the light bulb over it.

“Burned out. You got another one?”

“Over the microwave. Hold on.”

He watched her as she set the cat down and stretched to reach the box of light bulbs. She looked…happy. Relaxed. And she smiled up at him as he took the bulb from her hand. “You’re a pretty handy guy.”

“Yeah.” He took his time screwing in the new bulb and replacing the cover, but it was still only a few minutes before it was time to face the music.

She’d taken off her sweatshirt and was curled on the couch with her feet tucked under Moxie for warmth. Pausing in the act of reaching for the remote control, she gave him a funny look. “What’s wrong?”

“I should get going. It’s been a long night.”

The happy glow faded a little, but she was still smiling. “Why don’t you just stay here? There’s no sense in making the drive home when you’ve got to go out early in the morning to finish up.”

“I can’t stay, Claire.” And that pretty much killed the last of the happy on her face.