Read A Christmas to Believe In Online
Authors: Claire Ashgrove
He flopped onto his back and groaned. Damage done, he
couldn't turn back now. She ran so fierce in his blood, he'd be
a fool to try and deny it. Not that he'd been doing a hell of a
lot of denying in the first place. He just hadn't imagined she
could make him lose control so easily.
Sitting up, he tugged his shirt over his head and lobbed it
in the corner. Next came his jeans, a one-handed throw
landing them just a few inches away. He glanced at the pile,
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debating whether to get up and put them inside the hamper.
But with a shrug, he kicked back the covers and stretched out
in bed.
To hell with it. To hell with everything. His life was on a
one-way course to disaster, he might as well enjoy what he
could.
Including Jesse.
A smile drifted across his face as her pretty face rose
behind his closed eyelids. All that dark hair framing eyes that,
when he looked into them for too long, made him feel like
he'd drunk too much wine.
He could feel the weighty fullness of her breast against his
palm, and he curled his fingers against the taunting
sensation. If only it were summer—he'd have rid her of that
sweater and rolled her hardened nipple beneath his tongue.
He'd have done other things too, if the chilly winter air hadn't
prevented helping her out of her clothes. Other things like
loosen her jeans. Slip his fingers down to caress her feminine
flesh. Drop to his knees to explore with his mouth.
Flopping to his side, Clint opened his eyes to look out at
the stars. He exhaled on a hiss, chastising himself for allowing
his thoughts to go so far.
Jesse kicked the covers off with a frustrated mutter. The
soft cotton chafed her raw nerves, tormented far more than
the cool air that came with turning down the heat. Only one
thing would cure the ache between her thighs. While she
might find temporary relief by taking matters into her own
hands, Clint alone could quench the deeper burn.
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She sat up and let out a heavy sigh. So much for sleep.
Two hours of tossing and turning wasn't getting her close to
the elusive state. If anything, reliving the feel of Clint's hands
on her body made it worse. She'd be lucky if she got a few
hours of rest at this rate.
Grumbling, she slid out of bed and donned her robe, intent
on a glass of water. Halfway across the room, the sound of
video games filtered under her door. She cocked her head,
her brows furrowed. What was Ethan doing up still? His room
had been dark when she'd dragged herself to bed.
Curious, she went to the door, crossed the hall, and
rapped on his partly open door.
"Yeah?"
She edged the door open further and let herself in. The low
glow of the television illuminated his room. He sat on the foot
of his bed, controller in hand, leaning side-to-side as he
navigated an Indy car around an asphalt track.
"What are you doing up?"
He leaned to the left, then quickly jerked to the right,
guiding his red and yellow car around another contender.
"Couldn't sleep. Why are you up?"
"Me neither."
Jesse sat down on the edge of his bed and tucked her robe
around her legs. "Malibu or Brickyard?"
"Malibu." He zoomed through the checkered flag and hit
the pause button. The game chimed. "Want in on it?"
At her nod, he passed her the other controller. She
scrolled through her accumulated cars, choosing her favorite,
modified, purple and white. On her selection, the game
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flashed with color, bold white numbers counting down to the
starting gunshot.
She sped ahead of Ethan, and the screen split, allowing
them to navigate their individual course. With one eye on the
tiny box in the left hand corner that showed his position, she
gunned her car ahead.
"Who's this Stephanie?"
He passed a computer-generated version of Arie Luyendyk,
almost clipping the Porsche car in the process. The game
issued an angry,
Watch it, buddy!
"A girl."
"Uh huh. I gathered that. You like her?"
Leaning hard to his right to make a sharp turn, he
shrugged. "I guess."
Jesse bit down on her lower lip as her car skidded over an
oil spill. She slid into the grass, losing precious seconds.
Ethan zipped past her while she spun her tires on the
shoulder. When she had herself righted, and hit the
accelerator to cruise down the straightaway, she glanced
Ethan's way. "Does she like you?"
"She calls all the time."
"Don't you have a winter dance coming up when school
starts again?"
Ethan wrinkled his nose. "I'm not going to no dance."
Risking collision with an approaching yellow competitor,
Jesse leaned left to pass and jabbed Ethan in the ribs with her
elbow. "Don't be a spoilsport. Dances are fun. If she likes
you, she'll expect you to ask."
"You didn't go to dances," he countered.
"What gave you that idea? I most certainly did."
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Ethan blinked at her. In the half-second of time it took him
to look back to the video game, his car ran headlong into a
brick wall. Like fingernails on a chalkboard, the sound of
crunching metal made Jesse cringe. Bits of vehicle exploded
across his portion of the screen, and Ethan dropped his
controller in his lap. "You're distracting me, Mom."
"It's the only way I can win." She grinned.
"You always said you were a tomboy. That you'd rather
work on cars than do something like cheerlead."
She nodded, steered around the last turn and crossed the
finish line. Setting her controller on his quilt, she gave him a
smile. "That's true. But I went to dances. I doubled with Clint
or his brothers most of the time."
"Oh."
With a punch of a button, Ethan restarted the game.
"Brickyard now."
"Easy."
"So I should ask her?"
"Yep."
The distinctive sound of a displeased mutter blended with
the cheering fans as the green flags signaled the beginning of
the race. Jesse resisted the urge to laugh, and waited for the
gunshot. When it ricocheted through the speakers, she
gunned the car, but Ethan beat her off the line.
"You'd like him, Ethan. He was a lot of fun when we were
younger."
Noncommittal, he answered in a flat tone. "Uh huh."
Jesse lapsed into silence, sensing she walked a thin line.
Still, she couldn't let the subject rest. There had to be a way
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to convince Ethan that Clint wasn't a threat to his stability.
Until she achieved that, she couldn't just let go and let him
harbor hate. Clint didn't deserve it. Cautiously, she ventured,
"Horses could be a lot of fun."
Ethan snorted.
"You might give it a try. Something new and different. It
can't hurt, at any rate. If you don't like Angel, well, then
you've at least given it a shot."
He tossed his controller in front of him, his interest in the
game lost. She braced herself for the inevitable, knowing full
well whatever came out of his mouth next, would hurt.
"Give it up, would you? I don't want to know him. I don't
have to like your friends."
"But Ethan—"
He scooted away like she'd cracked a whip in his face.
"Enough! Don't you get it? I don't give a fuck about him."
"Ethan Scott!"
"What? Too crude for you, Jesse?"
She flinched, drew in a deep breath and held it.
Jesse
. He
hadn't called her by her first name for over a year. Exhaling
slowly, she set her controller down and slid off his bed.
Though she knew in her heart, too many years of pain drove
his emotions, the barb stung. On the same hand, she'd
pushed. Ethan couldn't tolerate pushing. He had to come to
things on his own time.
Foregoing the lecture, she crossed to the door.
"Goodnight, Ethan."
He said nothing. Merely picked up his controller and set
the options back to one-player.
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On a heavy sigh, Jesse left his room.
Inside hers, she clicked on the lamp by her bedside and
reclined against her pillows. Tears brimmed in her eyes. She
closed them to keep the salty flow at bay and curled her
fingers into the sheets. In a thousand years, she never would
have imagined that the only man she'd ever truly wanted
would be Clint. In his arms, she felt safe. Protected.
Undefeatable. He lit her up in ways she had only begun to
comprehend, and it seemed as if fate determined to work
against her.
If she weren't careful, she'd lose Ethan. Every agonizing
step she'd made would crumble under the weight of his fears.
He'd close up, inevitably turn back to the life he'd known
before he entered hers, and she couldn't stomach the thought
of where that would lead him. Jail, if he were lucky. Dead, if
he wasn't.
Yet, shouldn't she be allowed some personal happiness as
well? There were so many unwritten rules to parenthood—
sacrifice for the children, put all personal goals aside, give up
everything to see to their happiness. She'd exchange her life
for Ethan's in a heartbeat, but Clint offered something no
child could. Even if it was only temporary, and this giddy
feeling that brimmed in her soul would end when he left, he
promised fulfillment of a need that ran so deep she couldn't
name it.
A tear slipped between her eyelashes and trickled down
her cheek. She sniffled to hold the rest in check. She never
should have let him kiss her a second time tonight. The first
had been catastrophic enough. The second...
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She wouldn't be satisfied with anything but all of him after
that second kiss. Instinct demanded she leap at what lay in
front of her. Hang on to it until it burned itself out with his
inevitable departure. Logic, on the other hand, warned her if
she did, she'd lose the one thing that mattered most—her
son.
Jesse clicked off the lamp and scooted down into her bed.
She needed time. More time than Clint could offer. With it,
she could ease Clint into Ethan's life. Without it, they'd only
run into the concrete wall Ethan erected whenever his deep-
rooted fears surfaced.
Sighing, she acknowledged what she didn't want to
confront. She had to let Clint go. Now, before it became too
much and she couldn't walk away. Not only to protect herself,
but to prove to Ethan, once and for all, he was safe. That he
could depend on her until she took her last breath.
Clint would leave. He'd never had a problem with women,
and he'd find someone else in Kentucky. This little Christmas
affair wouldn't make a difference a few weeks into the New
Year. Besides, with his horses, he had greater things to worry
about; none of this would make a difference to him. Before it
impacted her permanently, she had to stop this nonsense.
They were friends. That's all they could ever be.
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A chorus of voices pulled Clint from his light slumber. He
opened his eyes to the pale lavender light of dawn and
scowled. Just as he'd finally found sleep, the entire household
decided to deny him.
He lay there a long while, listening to the muffled sound of
male and female laughter. The clatter of dishes blended with
the strong aroma of bacon, nagging him to crawl out of bed
and join what appeared to be a family breakfast. He should.
Responsible sons would. His father would never linger in bed
while the rest of his family gathered in the kitchen.
Muttering, Clint tossed the covers back and sat up. Self-
indulgence time had come to an end. If he didn't get up, his
mother wouldn't let it go easily. She'd find some way to use it
against him, and with her current mindset, her choice of
revenge would relate to the upcoming wedding.
A wedding that Clint had more and more trouble
supporting. Two seconds around Sydney, and he'd known that
woman couldn't possibly make Alex happy. What his brother
saw in her, Clint couldn't begin to fathom. He surely couldn't
be blind to her materialistic nature and her obsessive need to
maintain appearances.
Yet, as eldest, he'd agreed to be best man. Duty
demanded he welcome Sydney into the family, regardless of
personal taste. The same way he had to embrace his new
half-sister, Keeley.
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He shrugged on a pair of workout pants and a loose T-shirt