Yule Be Mine (13 page)

Oh, ho. That sounded like a challenge. “And you think I can't?”

She opened her eyes again and surveyed him. “But you just said we look identical.”

“Outwardly, sure. But you smile differently. You walk differently and laugh at different things. You're usually off in your own little world, while Bethany is always on the attack.”

That had her laughing. “No, she is not. Well, except maybe with Lucius, before they got things ironed out.” Then, more quietly, “Or when she's defending me.”

And that probably explained why Bethany didn't seem to like him. From jump, she'd been prickly with him, always watching him as if she expected him to sprout horns. Or maybe…hurt her sister's feelings.

Shit. He hated being predictable.

Marci touched his arm, causing him to stiffen. “I've noticed that people do different things in order to protect themselves. Bethany was afraid of her growing feelings for Lucius, so she picked arguments with him, forcing an emotional distance.”

The way she said that, with ripe anticipation while watching him so closely, raised Ozzie's suspicions. He scowled. “Is that some kind of dig toward me?”

“Not a dig, but an observation. If you'll be honest, you'll admit that you use sarcasm and negativity to shield your feelings for me.”

Whoa. Hold the farm.
His feelings?

Ozzie glanced toward her, but the snow flurries were thick enough now to require that he return his attention to the road. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You like me.”

Despite the cold, he broke out in a sweat. “I
want
you, Marci. It's not at all the same thing.”

Taunting him, she leaned closer. “But you like me, too. Admit it.”

Get a grip, Ozzie. Don't let her rile you. He clutched the steering wheel and formulated a plan of response. “Okay.” Forcing himself to relax, he feigned mere curiosity. “What gives you the impression I like you?”

“You watch me all the time.”

True. But easily explained. “You're hot. Great ass. Stellar legs. More than a handful up top.”

Hell, he was turning himself on.

In a gruffer tone, he stated, “
All
the guys watch you.”

“You also glare at the other guys watching me.”

He snorted, but had to wonder…did he? Sure, he hated seeing any man disrespect a woman. But he had no claim on Marci. Just because he'd gone out with her a few times, and hadn't yet had her, even though he wanted her bad…

No claim at all, damn it.

He'd refute her. He'd tell her he didn't give a rat's ass who looked at her, then she'd understand he wasn't the one smitten.

He glanced at her. “Are you saying you like the other men eyeballing you?” Appalled at himself, Ozzie snapped his mouth shut. Had that aggressive, barked question reeking of jealousy actually come from him?

Marci's smile spread slow and easy. “Not really.”

He was so lost in self-recriminations, he didn't know what she was talking about. “Not really
what?
”

“If it wasn't for you,” she assured him, “I probably wouldn't have noticed anyone else looking at me. But because I'm always looking at you, I've seen when you get that murderous glint in your eyes.”

So he'd just clued her in? Great. Just friggin' great. He could hardly deny the truth of her observations, so he just kept quiet.

“And your reaction has to mean something, right?”

“It means I don't want anyone else jumping your bones before me.” Actually, he didn't want anyone touching her. Ever. Period.

“Because you like me?”

Ozzie had never been the type to abuse anyone, but especially not a woman. At the same time, he didn't want to give her false impressions. “Look, Marci, I like you fine. Really.” How could he not? She was sweet and cheerful and…“But I don't
like
you, if you know what I mean.”

“No, I don't.”

He groaned. “You're a nice-enough woman. You seem kind. And usually smart.”

“Usually?”

He would not belabor her weirdness with animals. “The thing is, I enjoy being single.”

“I didn't ask to marry you.”

That made
twice
he'd heard that cursed word today, and both times in relationship to Marci. Driven by desperation, he squeezed the steering wheel and scowled. “I'm not looking to get involved beyond anything sexual.”

Marci tilted her head, as if trying to understand him. “Why did you come to see me this morning?”

Shew. An easy enough subject, one he could discuss without caution. “Lucius says someone's been maybe bothering you.” At least that was the bona fide truth. “He wanted me to keep an eye on things.”

“Oh.” Disappointment had her crossing her arms. “And that's why you're helping me return the donkey? Because Lucius is your friend and he told you to babysit me?”

Not exactly, but it sounded good to him. “That's about it.”

Silence reigned. He could actually feel her regret as she stared at him. For the longest time she said nothing, and Ozzie was starting to squirm. What if she cried? What if he'd just broken her little screwball heart?

“Okay then.”

He tucked in his chin and spared another glimpse in her direction. “Okay, what?”

“Okay, I believe you don't like me.”

But…“Look, Marci, I don't
dislike
you. Didn't I just say that overall you're a nice, sweet woman?”

“But you only want sex?”

The Inquisition couldn't have been this tough.

Be noble, Oz.

Be strong.

Do not pull over to the side of the road to show her the exceptions you'd make for sex.

He cleared his throat and attempted to be as blunt as possible. “I want you, but then, we've already acknowledged that. The thing is, I'm sure you don't want to get involved in a purely sexual encounter.”

“I don't?”

Ozzie concentrated on not getting a Jones. Again. “No, you don't.” And then, because he couldn't help himself: “Do you?”

She took her own sweet time thinking about it, probably to further torment him.

“I don't know,” she finally said. “I want you an awful lot, too, and I'm not sure I want to go my whole life wondering how you would have been.”

Of all the dirty, rotten…! Ozzie could feel himself hardening. And she'd probably done that on purpose, just to get even with him for being surly. He shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable, and considered apologizing for his less-than-sterling mood.

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, figured out what to say, and cleared his throat again. “Look, Marci, I guess I'm just tired and in a bad mood.”

“And our aborted lovemaking this morning has us both edgy.”

He locked his teeth. “Right. But I shouldn't take that out on you. Just forget everything I've said, okay?”

“No, I won't do that.” She looked out the window at the passing scenery. “Don't you just love this time of year? Look at the Christmas lights. I especially like the blue ones. They're so pretty.”

Oh, no, he wouldn't let her switch topics on him that easily! “What do you mean, no?”

“I'm sorry, but I can't forget that sweet kiss earlier, or everything you've said. It'd be impossible. I'm used to people not liking me, but it bothers me more with you.”

It bothered him that she was bothered. “Marci—”

“And you should know, there
is
someone following me. I realize Lucius doesn't believe it, he just asked you to look out for me to appease Bethany. He hates to disappoint her.”

Lucius was whipped big time.

“But if you look in the rearview mirror, you'll see a van. It's been there since we got on the main road. Watch and see if it stays with us.”

Startled by that, Ozzie glanced in the mirror and saw the van she meant. He grunted. “Could be anyone.” But there weren't many cars out and about on that early snowy morning.

“Want to make a bet?” Marci twisted toward him as much as the confines of the seatbelt would allow. “A real bet, not just a verbal one.”

Everything male in him went on the alert. “What are we wagering?”

She didn't even take a second to consider it. “In a few minutes, you can pull over for gas or a drink or something. If the van pulls over, too, that'll be proof enough, okay?”

“I suppose.” He looked again in the rearview mirror, and felt his instincts kick in. They
were
being tailed, and he hadn't even noticed. He didn't like slacking. He didn't like being so distracted by a woman that he missed something that major.

“If he is following us, I win the bet.”

“Not yet, woman.” He wouldn't agree to anything blindly. “What are we betting?”

“That you'll spend Christmas with me.”

Huh. Had he really thought she'd ask for sex?

In his dreams.

“I just inherited a house, and I'd planned to work on it over the holidays.”

“Then I'll spend Christmas with you. Either way, you'll give me some time, okay?”

That didn't sound too heinous. But it brought up a new question. “So if he's not following us, what do I get?”

The dimple showed in her cheek. “What do you want?”

Such a loaded question. Ozzie firmed his jaw, flipped on his turn signal to switch lanes, and headed for the nearest exit.

The damn van followed.

“I don't think it matters,” he muttered. “The bastard is following us—and I want to know why.”

“I
haven't eaten,” Osbourne said. “I'm going to pull in and get a breakfast sandwich. You want one?”

It fascinated Marci to see Osbourne go into SWAT mode. Oh, he spoke casually enough, but a new alertness straightened his spine and firmed his jaw. He looked everywhere, at everything, as he eased the truck to the right and took an exit.

The few times she'd dated him, he'd been charming at first, then wary, then finally distant. All because she'd tried to be herself with him.

When he'd shown back up today, primed and in sexual overdrive, her hope had renewed. But so far he'd been churlish and sarcastic and she didn't like it. His attitude hurt her feelings when she'd thought herself long immune to the criticism of others.

Seeing that the van had also switched lanes and taken the same exit, Marci sighed. “I'll take a donut and orange juice. Thank you.”

When Osbourne got in the drive-thru lane, the van went past, but pulled into a gas station nearby. No one left the van to pump gas.

Only someone familiar with Osbourne would note the growing tension in him. Not sexual tension this time, but an angry tension that bunched his impressive muscles and put an anticipatory glint into his blue eyes. It didn't bode well for somebody.

He put in their orders without an obvious care, paid, accepted their food, and then handed her the bag.

“Get that out for me, will you?” He steered the truck out of the parking lot and onto the main road, heading for the exit that'd take them back onto the highway.

Marci unwrapped his sandwich and handed it to him. He balanced it on his knee while driving.

“Osbourne? The van is following again.”

“I know. Normally I'd make a few sharp turns, but I don't want to alarm the donkey.”

So considerate. So why didn't he give her the same consideration? Surely it was as she suspected—that he did care for her but wanted to protect himself.

The questions uppermost in her mind were: Why? And who had hurt him?

“In fact,” he said, as much to himself as her, “I'll just let the idiot follow us all the way to the donkey's home. Once I don't have to worry about the animal, it'll be easier for me to take care of this.”

After a bite of her donut, Marci licked her fingers free of glaze. “Take care of it how?”

“Don't push me, Marci.”

“It was a simple question.”

“Yeah, well keep your fingers out of your mouth and your tongue where I can't see it.”

Oh. So that's what he meant by pushing him. Feeling a little devilish, Marci took another bite of her donut. “So…Do I spend Christmas with you? Will you honor the bet?”

“We never actually shook on it or anything.”

She wouldn't let his reluctance bother her. One way or another, she'd wear him down. “So is it that you like being alone during the holidays?”

“Usually I wouldn't be.” He bit into his breakfast sandwich with gusto.

Jealousy prickled up her spine, and Marci said, “Yes, of course. I'm sure you have your pick of women to celebrate with.”

He laughed without humor, and then, in somber tones, he explained, “I've spent every Christmas since my sixth birthday with my grandmother. It's always been just the two of us. But she recently passed, so this year I'll be solo for the holidays.”

Oh, God. “Osbourne, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize.”

“Granny was a hoot. And she'd have loved you, because she loved animals and anyone who had anything to do with them.”

“Even kooks?”

“Especially kooks, being as she was a little nutty herself. But in a loveable way. When my mom died and my dad took off, she gathered me up and said she'd finally have me to herself, as if it was something she'd always wanted.”

“What do you mean he took off?”

“He was young, unwilling to be burdened with a kid. Granny said I reminded him too much of her. But I think that was bullshit, just her way of softening things.”

“I bet you must have missed them a lot.”

“With Granny around? Hell, no. She made growing up fun.”

Fascinated, Marci smiled at him. “How so?”

“Granny didn't believe in rules. If I wanted dessert instead of dinner, we'd eat it in the yard, in the rain, while listening to coyotes howl. During my rowdier teens, when I wanted long hair, she offered to dye it blue for me.”

Marci laughed. “She does sound fun.”

“Yeah, but she was wily. I always thought she should have been a shrink, because she sure knew how to play mind games.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I was eighteen, I wanted a tattoo. You know, something gnarly and macho around my biceps. Granny thought that sounded cool, and she wanted to go along to get one, too.”

They both laughed.

Shaking his head, Osbourne added, “Hell, I was afraid that if I slipped off to get it, she'd find out where, and she'd show up there to get her ass tatted or something, and I'd never be able to live it down. For sure, she'd have told the tattoo artist she was my granny, and word would have spread like wildfire.”

“Pretty ingenious on her part.”

“No kidding. I failed a test once because I hadn't studied. She sat down with it, looked over the answers, and damned if she didn't know them all! Made me feel like an idiot, all the while telling me how smart I am and that obviously the test was messed up because, hell, what old lady could pass it when a sharp young man couldn't? From then on, I aced everything, and she'd beam, telling me how much smarter I was than her.” His voice softened. “But I never believed that. She was the wisest, most incredible woman I've ever known.”

Marci touched his thigh. “I'm glad you had her in your life.”

“Yeah, me, too.” His hand briefly covered hers and gave it a squeeze. “Having Christmas without her just doesn't feel right.”

When he retreated again, she felt the loss, both physical and emotional, deep inside herself. “Maybe it'd be easier if you had someone around to…you know, maybe deflect the memories.” Marci knew she lacked subtlety, but she couldn't bear the thought of him spending Christmas alone.

Osbourne grunted. “Sharing holidays with women gives them the wrong idea. It puts too personal a slant to things. Women start thinking you're committed to them, whether you are or not.”

“Committed?”

He worked his jaw a minute, then shrugged one heavy shoulder, as if deciding it didn't matter what he shared. “I had one friggin' holiday with a woman, and she thought we'd get married or something. I told her nothing had changed, that I liked her but I wasn't in love with her.”

“I take it she reacted badly?”

His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I'd always known Ainsley was a little screwy, but after that, I realized she was certifiable. She did everything she could to harass me. She kept calling me at home and at work. She dropped in unannounced. She stalked me, hoping to catch me with another woman. When I told her to back off, she…”

“What?”

“Claimed she was pregnant.”

“Oh.” Dread settled in Marci's belly. “You're a father?”

“No.” After a deep breath, he said, “It's a long story, and I won't go into details, but for months, she put me through hell. She was pregnant, she wasn't pregnant. She'd had an abortion, she hadn't had an abortion. It was mine, it wasn't mine. I had no idea what to think. When I considered being a father…I dunno. I took to the idea. And then she'd say she'd aborted the baby, just to see my reaction. And the next day she'd tell me she lied, that she was still pregnant, but not by me. She ranted and raved and drove me nuts.”

“How did it finally get resolved?”

“After a few months, when she would have started showing if she was in fact pregnant, she found some new schmuck to torment.” He shook his head. “She wanted to make sure I didn't ruin things for her, so she confessed that she'd made it all up.”

“Dear God.” Marci now understood, but she almost wished she didn't.

He thought she was another Ainsley.

“Since then, I've kept things simple. Limited dating—with very rational women.”

“And no holidays?”

His frown eased away. “Most of the women I know aren't the type to enjoy a quiet Christmas at home.”

Forget subtlety. “I would enjoy it.”

Mouth quirking in a half-smile, he said, “Yeah, you made that clear.”

Still, he didn't invite her to join him, and she slouched back in her seat, disgruntled. “But I'm a vindictive flake, right? Way too cruel to have hanging around.”

His frown took the chill out of the air. “Don't put words in my mouth.”

“Why not? Kooky is kooky, right? You've seen one, you've seen 'em all.”

“I didn't—” Osbourne huffed, glanced in the rearview mirror, then at his directions. He switched lanes. “Look, let's start this debacle over, okay?”

Now he called their time together a debacle? Worse and worse. “Start over how?”

“Forget the past. From this second on, we'll just play it by ear. One thing at a time.”

She supposed she could do that. “The donkey first?”

“Right. Hopefully this is where he belongs and we can be heroes by returning him, then we'll head home.”

Marci wondered whose home he meant, but she decided not to push her luck. “Deal.”

“Great.” From one minute to the next, the snow turned to frozen sleet, hammering the windshield and making travel more treacherous. Osbourne eased off the highway on the next exit. “Help me look for Riley Road.”

The wipers could barely keep the ice off the windshield, even with the defroster going full blast. They'd slowed to a crawl with visibility limited.

A crooked road indicator came into view. “There it is.” Marci pointed, and Osbourne pulled down a narrower gravel drive.

The van stayed behind them, but held back when they drove down a dirt road leading to an old, stately farmhouse fenced in and surrounded by towering trees. Osbourne parked in front but left the truck running.

Back in SWAT mode, he ordered, “Wait here.”

Orders had never gone over big with her. “Why should I?”

“I don't know these people, and I don't like taking chances with you.”

Well, the order sounded much nicer put that way.

“Lock the doors and I'll be right back.”

“Okay.”

Her quick agreement earned her a double take. Osbourne's gaze was fraught with suspicion, but he said nothing.

Marci watched as he trod through the now ankle-deep snow, up the hidden walk to the front porch. He knocked on the door and seconds later a middle-aged woman, wearing jeans and a flannel shirt, answered. As she dried her hands on a kitchen towel, Osbourne spoke, gestured toward the truck, and the woman screamed.

Even through the thick sleet and snow, Marci could see that he jumped.

The woman shoved Osbourne aside and went slipping and sliding down the walkway to the truck. Shocked, Osbourne hurried after her. The woman was still yelling excitedly, which brought a tall, portly man charging out the doorway to join her at the truck.

Over the truck's idling engine and the blasting defroster, their words were indecipherable. But their expressions were clear enough: naked, tearful, overwhelming joy.

Grinning ear to ear, Marci opened her door and stepped shin-deep into the drifting snow and ice.

Struggling against the surging wind, she reached the back of the truck just as Osbourne lowered the hatch. There was a single moment of speechless expectation, then the donkey brayed, the man and woman gave a robust shout, and within seconds, the truck bed was filled.

The man, overcome with joy, cried, “Magnus! Finally, you're home!”

The woman threw herself around the donkey and hugged him tight.

Wide-eyed and mute with incredulity, Osbourne looked at Marci. Grinning through her tears, she mouthed the words “Thank you.”

And slowly, Osbourne's smile came in return.

 

An hour later, Osbourne continued to smile, and said again, “I can't believe it.”

Marci sipped the hot chocolate that River and Chloe Parson had insisted on fixing for them. They'd also tried to give them a hefty reward, but Osbourne and Marci had refused the money at almost the same time.

Osbourne told the Parsons that seeing their happiness, especially at Christmas, was more than enough reward.

It thrilled Marci that he looked at their efforts the same way she did: as simply the right thing to do, not something done for financial gain. After their repeated refusals, the Parson couple gave up.