Read A Christmas to Believe In Online
Authors: Claire Ashgrove
Clint has work to do."
He turned them loose, ruffled their hair in turn, and
climbed to his feet. Go Fish, Slap Jack, Checkers, and Chutes
& Ladders gave way to wrestling. Four hours he'd spent with
them. Four hours of absolute heaven. How Alex had produced
such beautiful little girls, he'd never understand. Zoe must
have contributed those genes.
Stomping his feet to straighten his jeans, Clint looked at
the clock. Almost five. Surely Jesse would be home by now. If
he left right now, he could escape the pile of holiday
garnishments waiting for his mother to enlist everyone's help
to hang. All day long, she'd hobbled about, hanging mistletoe
in strategic places, dictating where she envisioned the tables
sitting for the reception, instructing him to get this box or
that crate from the attic.
His mother had always loved Christmas. But this year,
she'd given decorating a whole new meaning. With the in-
house reception and the holiday itself, not a corner of their
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home escaped adornment. Regardless of Jesse, the trip to the
barn would be a welcome escape.
"I'll be back after a while, Mom," he called to the dining
room.
"Okay, honey."
The girls scampered out of the room in search of their
grandmother, and Clint slid into his coat. Jesse would love
those three. Hell, Jesse would have loved every bit of today.
A shame she'd had to work, he'd have brought her back here,
let her sample Zoe's food, watch as she wrestled with them.
He opened the door and stepped outside as a white Camry
skidded into the drive. Drawing back, he watched Jesse jump
out and rush toward the house. As she approached, he caught
the faint sound of a sniffle.
Crying? What the hell? He couldn't remember ever seeing
Jesse in tears.
"Clint." In the next instant, her arms were around him,
and she hung on tight.
"Shh." Gathering her close, he pressed his hand to the
crown of her head and urged her cheek to his shoulder.
"What's the matter?"
Her shoulders shook with a sob.
"Hey," he murmured. "Calm down, sweetheart. What
happened?"
She gulped down a deep breath and turned watery eyes to
him. "The adoption. Jonathan called—" Another plaintive sob
choked off her words. With a fierce shake of her head, she
buried her face in his chest. Her chest expanded as she drew
in a deep breath.
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Clint smoothed her hair, nuzzled his cheek against the top
of her head. "Come on. Let's go inside."
She nodded on a sniffle.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, drew her against
his side and helped her through the door. Urging her onto the
couch, he sat down beside her and waited for her to gather
her composure enough to speak.
"Jonathan called." She exhaled slowly, blinking back fresh
tears that welled in her blue eyes. "The hearing's been
postponed."
The rest of her story came out in a jumble of words that
ran so fast his head spun. By the time she finished, she was
sobbing again. Her entire body trembled against his. Where
she laid her cheek on his shoulder, his shirt soaked up her
tears. A strange, wholly unexpected feeling swept through
Clint. She'd come to him. Turned to him when she thought
everything had fallen apart. She could have called Alex,
cornered Heath, but she'd come here for him. His heart
swelled at the realization, and he wrapped his arms around
her more securely.
"Does he know yet?"
She shook her head. "When he finds out, it will ruin
Christmas for him. Jonathan's telling his
Guardian ad Litem
to
let me break the news, but still, it'll break his heart." She
took a deep breath. "He hasn't said anything about the court
date. It's been so long since they scheduled it, I think he's
forgotten what day it was supposed to happen. I'll just have
to try and keep him from finding out until I come up with the
right words."
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"I know it's not how you envisioned it happening, but it's
still going to go through. Of course, he'll be disappointed. But
he'll realize it's out of your control, I'm sure."
"No, he won't. Somehow, this will become my fault."
"Why?"
She sat up and wiped her cheeks with the back of her
wrist. "I can't tell you. I promised him I wouldn't ever tell."
If there were one thing Clint loved about her most, it
would be her loyalty. Though occasionally frustrating, her
fierce dedication knew no boundaries. He could press for
answers all night long, and she'd never betray Ethan's
confidence. No more than she'd share all the secrets she
knew about him and his brothers.
With no answers to give her and no way to solve the
problem on her behalf, Clint drew her into his arms once
more. He slid his fingers through her hair, combing out the
long raven locks. They sat together in silence for several long
moments, the only interruption, the occasional titter of four-
year-old female laughter.
Jesse's breathing evened out, and she edged out of his
protective hold. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't dump on you like this."
He reached out and cupped the side of her face. With his
thumb, he brushed away the wetness on her cheek. Giving
her a soft smile, he murmured, "I don't mind." To reinforce
his statement, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her
flushed lips. "That's what I'm here for."
"I should go." She heaved a sigh. "I have to make dinner.
I'm late, and Ethan will wonder where I've been."
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"I was just heading over to check on Angel. I can't take a
minute more of this holiday stuff."
"Oh?" She lifted her eyebrows. "Really?"
"Yes, really."
Another sniffle had her rubbing her reddened nose, and
she tried for a smile. It came out weak, hesitant, and so
adorable Clint's heart thumped hard.
"Want to have dinner with us? Though, I warn you, we're
putting up our tree tonight too. It's not a total escape."
He blinked. Dinner with Ethan and Jesse? "You think that's
a good idea?"
"Well, you said you thought you could work things out.
Might as well start sometime."
Invited into their life. She trusted he could smooth things
over with Ethan.
Wanted
him to take the chance. His chest
contracted with the realization. She believed in him.
Sliding his hand to the back of her neck, he guided her
closer to brush his mouth across hers. She offered no
resistance, parting her lips in welcome invitation. The tip of
her tongue met his, and Clint closed his eyes on a heavy
exhale. Fringed with salty flavor, her mouth was warm,
inviting. He set his free arm on her waist, fingers clamping
into her side to stop himself from pulling her onto his lap.
Lord above, she could turn him inside out so damn easily.
The sound of footsteps in the adjoining room brought him
to his senses. Drawing the kiss to a lingering close, he
released her. "I'll be right behind you," he whispered against
the corner of her mouth.
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She turned her face a fraction, caught his lower lip
between hers, unwilling to separate. Their breaths entwined
in a taunting game of catch and release. He played with fire,
all too aware anyone might walk in and witness his inability to
resist. Told himself one more touch would be enough, then
he'd pull away, follow her out the door.
Yet it wasn't enough. Nor was the second. Only one thing
would satisfy the hollow ache each retreat intensified. With a
choked groan, he dragged her sideways onto his lap and
delved in deep. One hand tangled in her hair, the other he set
on a stocking-clad thigh. His fingertips traced the hem of her
skirt, dipped beneath to creep around and caress her dainty
buttock.
Distantly, he heard someone call his name. But the play of
Jesse's palm against his chest made it impossible to answer.
She explored freely, across his pecs, down his ribs, over his
belly. Her gentle caresses scored in and turned his gut into
liquid heat. Trapped beneath the confines of his jeans, his
cock swelled with craving.
Touch me.
As if she could hear his silent plea, her hand flattened
firmly over his swollen length. His entire body tightened with
a shock of ecstasy.
"Clint, can you—" The hobbled footsteps stopped abruptly,
his mother's voice dying off in the entryway.
Jesse scrambled off Clint's lap, her cheeks as crimson as
the stockings on the fireplace. Clint turned his head to look at
his mother. "Shit," he mumbled under his breath.
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Amelia's expression didn't change. Not even the hint of a
smile, or worse, disapproval, touched her knowing eyes. She
held his gaze, telling him she'd witnessed everything, but to
her credit, continued as if she'd seen nothing. "I need you to
move this box for me." Using her crutches, she maneuvered a
tight turn and disappeared down the hall.
He looked to Jesse, offering silent apology while she
rearranged her skirt. She glanced up, and to his absolute
surprise, flashed him an amused grin.
Thank God. He'd expected her anger. Not that she'd have
a right to it, but her ability to find the humor in their situation
erased a large portion of the embarrassment he felt for her
sake. Rising to her feet, she bent over and kissed his cheek.
"I'll have dinner ready in an hour."
He caught her hand as she retreated, lifted it to his lips.
"Be there shortly."
After the front door shut behind her, Clint dropped his
head to the back of the couch, closed his eyes, and willed his
body into submission. It wouldn't be the first time his mother
caught him with a girl. But today marked the first time he'd
ever lost his senses enough to not block her intrusion with a
door. What the hell was the matter with him? He was thirty-
six years old, for God's sake. Long past the age of making out
in the front room.
He muttered another oath and pushed himself to his feet.
He should apologize. While his mother tolerated her boys'
natural urges, she'd never been pleased to have them indulge
beneath her roof.
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Inside the dining room, he found her and the girls sorting
through a box of ornaments. All four heads snapped up as his
boots announced his entry. His gaze locked with hers. "I'm
sor—"
She pointed to the top box, on a stack of four. "That one, I
can't get it down. It's too heavy, and it has some handmade
ornaments from your father's mother I want to put on the
tables. The girls and I are going to clean them up and repair
them."
Disbelieving her obvious dismissal of his indiscretions, Clint
stared. Had everyone changed in the five years he'd stayed
away? Jesse turned into a siren, Heath lost his usual humor,
Alex was a father—and now this. Where his mother would
have looked down her nose, expecting his apology, she went
on as if she hadn't just walked in on him and Jesse, mere
moments away from peeling off clothes.
"Don't stand there like I've asked you to move the Eiffel
Tower. I assume you know what you're doing. Move my box
and go see to that horse of yours."
There, she'd acknowledged it. At least that was somewhat
normal. Only, she had it all wrong. He didn't have the
slightest idea what he was doing. Nothing about his inability
to resist Jesse made sense. It just felt too damn good to stop.
But his idiocy wasn't his mother's concern. With a dutiful
nod, he crossed to the tower of boxes and set the topmost on
the ground. "Don't keep dinner for me."
"Didn't intend to."
As he left the room, he caught her smirk from the corner
of his eye. Perfect. Just what he needed. His mother knew
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something, and he'd cut off his thumbs to discover what it
was. If he were lucky, today wouldn't result in subtle pressure
to turn Alex's wedding into a dual ceremony.
Frowning, he stomped out the door.
At his truck, however, all his discomfort fled as his
thoughts returned to the evening ahead. Somehow, he'd
make it work with Ethan. They'd all have a nice dinner, full of
laughter and conversation. The boy seemed to like sports, if
his enthusiasm about tomorrow's hockey game said anything.
Maybe he liked football as well. Sports were safe territory, far
removed from anything related to Jesse. Well, excepting the
fact she could play almost as well as him and his brothers.