His Christmas Wish (7 page)

“
Sage,” he mumbled.

“
Hmm?” came her sleepy answer.

His eyes snapped open. Holy shit. He was in bed with Sage, and he was feeling her up. He let go of her breast like it was burning piece of coal . Which might not be far from the truth, because he was seriously hot, seriously overheated and in need of a cold shower.

Rolling away from her, he grimaced.

He scrubbed at his face, then rubbed his eyes. What a way to repay the woman who’d helped get him through the night. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d woken up sweating and grasping for his sanity. Sage had been there every time, whispering words of comfort and tenderly wiping his face with a cool cloth.

Not one time had she tried to get him to talk about what was keeping him up. There was the very real possibility that he might never share those nightmares with her, even if she knew the underlying cause—Sanford’s death.

After pulling the comforter over her, he slid out of bed and headed to the bathroom. A quick shower and shave, along with minty fresh breath, made him feel human again.

Glancing at the clock on his cell, he made up his mind to go for a run. He ducked into the guest room to grab his shoes. Sage mumbled in her sleep and he quietly padded over to her, placing his cell on the nightstand beside her glasses.

Waves of auburn hair spilled over her shoulder and along her face. He lightly touched her cheek, moving the bright strands to reveal smooth skin, highlighted with gold freckles. She stirred and he tucked the blankets around her, the way he had on their wedding night. “Go back to sleep.”

They’d been so young, so convinced that their love would overcome any obstacle thrown their way. Except they hadn’t counted on him acting like a spoiled child, then joining the Army as a big fuck you to his parents.

He hadn’t counted on her to be a coward and stay in Holland Springs. He hadn’t counted on her falling for her mother’s full-press guilt. Hell, she hadn’t bothered to even tell her family that they were married. And she was still afraid to rock the boat. .

Pressing his lips together in a flat line, he let his gaze linger on her, then walked out of the room, softly closing the door behind him.

***

The smell of the snow hit him first. Fresh and clean, not the acrid stench of death. Sparkling white and untainted, tempting him to plunge in headfirst, to see if it could do the same for him. If it could make him the man he was before he’d kicked up the first cloud of moon dust, without blood and death on his hands. But like the Army shrink had said, Joaquin had to move past this, but not by forgetting. He needed to honor those who didn’t make it out by living life fully.

Easier said than done, he thought with a grimace. But he would try with everything inside of him.

He stretched his calf muscles and arms.

Snow gave away easily as he began to run, his sneakers sinking deeper with each depression. Sweat trickled down his back and gathered on his brow. He ran until he couldn’t, then he simply walked, hands low on his hips taking in great gulps of cleansing air.

Passing a Christmas Tree farm, he watched a family pick out the perfect tree. Little squeals and shouts as healthy children with rosy, plump cheeks ran around the place. Everyone had a Christmas cheer glowing about them as they wandered in and out of the rows of trees.

The mental container he’d packaged those memories in tipped over, images spilling out and merging with the present. Scrawny arms and legs, stomachs distended from hunger, and brilliantly colored eyes rendered dull and ancient. Men and women’s bodies riddled with tumors, with defeat and despair—the most he’d been able to offer them were words of kindness in another language, wheat and fresh water.

In less than a week he had to convince Sage that they made sense. That they still belonged together. Despite their past, they had a future.

If he failed, he wouldn’t last a day.

Turning from the happy families, he began the long trek back.

***

Sage appeared in the kitchen as he flipped the last pancake, the comforter wrapped around her and her hair all tangled around her shoulders. Her rumpled appearance and cute black glasses made him want to take her back to bed and spend the rest of the day in it with her.

“
Good Morning.” He looked at the clock on the microwave, then back at her and smiled. “Make that ‘Good Afternoon’.”

Her lips curled up at the corners as she sat down at the bar. “Hi.” The comforter slipped down around her shoulders, unfortunately for him she still had her shirt on from the day before.

Grabbing a plate, he filled it up with her favorites.“Blueberry pancakes, cheese eggs and apple juice.” Astonished eyes flew to his. “It’s the least I can do after last night.” He set the plate in front of her, then handed her a container of syrup before joining her. There was no use in being embarrassed about what had happened. She had seen him at his most vulnerable and stayed.

“
You don’t have to do this.” She shifted her gaze away from him, staring at a point over his shoulder.

Was she embarrassed? He began dragging her plate along the counter. “Then you won’t mind if I eat your breakfast and mine?”

“
Yes, I mind, you hog,” she giggled, snagging the plate from him. In her attempt, their fingers collided.

His throat caught on a sarcastic reply. He hadn’t heard her laugh in four years. No, the times he’d actually spoken to her on the phone had ended up with accusations, shouting and blocked numbers.

Abruptly her laughter stopped and she flushed, the guilty look in her eye reminding him of the time he’d caught her spying on him skinny dipping with Angelica Braxton the summer before his senior year.

Grand plans of seducing the soon-to-be college freshman had dwindled to the size of his shrunken libido as soon as he’d spotted Sage’s fiery hair. He’d shouted her name and half ran/swam to shore after her. The shrieks of laughter belatedly emitted by Sage and her best friend, Mandy, as they disappeared into the woods had added insult to injury. The beauteous Angelica had stomped to shore, put on her clothes and had given him the silent treatment the entire way to her house.

Clearing his throat, he pushed his eggs around on his plate. “So, I was thinking about what we should do today.”

She took a sip of apple juice, then speared a bite of pancakes. “If it includes long talks about our feelings, how you were wrong to deceive me and why we should give our sham of a marriage another chance—count me out.”

Guess last night had been a fluke. Maybe he had imagined the tenderness in her touch and voice. Frustration simmered in his gut, but he kept his voice cool as he said, “I was thinking we should take advantage of the weather today, maybe go pick out a tree and shop for presents. Tonight they’re calling for sleet and more snow.”

Amazingly, she flushed even more and nodded at the back sliding glass door. “I already have presents and a tree. I’m sure you saw the boxes of decorations in the guest room.”

He blinked and followed her line of vision. A large Christmas tree sat on the back porch, its limbs devoid of decoration or lights. There had been three large boxes of decorations in the room he’d slept in last night. She really had gone all out for Gage.

God, he felt like an ass.

Taking a last bite of scrambled eggs, he washed them down with coffee. “I’ll bring the tree inside.”

Rising from the barstool, she said, “I’ll help.”

The smell of Christmas hit him, all pungent and nostalgic. Kneeling, he grasped the tree at the base and lifted it. Water sloshed around the bottom, making the tree extra heavy and awkward to lift.

“
To the right,” she said, helping him guide the tree through the door. “Now three steps to the left.”

His hip hit the stove and he grunted. A tree branch scraped his cheek.

“
Sorry, should’ve been two steps.”

“
We all make mistakes.”

“
Don’t turn this into a life lesson, Joaquin,” she warned.

Pursing his lips, he hefted the tree higher. Luckily for him, the ceiling in her house had been stripped down to the original exposed beams and allowed him to move the tree without scraping it. “Where do you want it?”

“
In the living room, right in front of the bay window. I’ll get a sheet to put under it.” He heard doors opening and closing, the sound of her footsteps. “All set,” she said.

He peered around the tree. Sage knelt on the hardwood, smoothing out a corner of a green sheet. Shuffling forward, he managed to place the tree exactly in the middle.

Exhaling, he brushed off his hands, then moved to the kitchen to wash off the tree sap. “Looks good.”

“
Do you want to decorate it?” She rose to her feet and moved to the iPod dock in the corner. Turning to face him, she smiled as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I have a whole playlist of Christmas songs.”

Just as he was about to answer, his phone buzzed. Drying his hands, he pulled it out of his side pocket and read the text message from his mother. Time to face the music. “How about tonight? When I—”

“
Whatever.” She shrugged, but disappointment clearly shone in her silver eyes before she turned away and began to rearrange the Christmas village on her mantle. “I’ll do it myself.”

He strode to her, cupping her slender shoulders and turning her to face him. Her lashes fluttered down, skimming her cheekbones. “Sweetheart, I’m not blowing you off.”

“
It’ doesn’t matter,” she said, still not looking at him.

“
Yes it does.” Hooking a finger under her chin, he lifted it up. A pink tongue darted out to lick at her top lip and he couldn’t stop himself from doing the same. She gasped, her full lips parting at his touch. Never one to let opportunity slide by, he nipped at her full bottom lip. “Ask me.”

Her hands came between them, lightly resting on his chest. The heat of her palms searing him. “You’re not playing fair.”

“
This isn’t a game.” He let his hands travel the length of her arms, then back up again to cup her elbows and pull her closer. Full breasts pressed against him, her hands drifting lower to grab the waistband on his jeans. He hadn’t been with a woman in years, his determination to make something of himself and winning her back his only goal. Meaningless one night stands weren’t part of the plan, which totally explained the hard-on pressing against the zipper of his jeans. “Ask me.”

What seemed like an eternity passed before she replied, “Kiss me.”

Chapter Seven

Sage expected him to go in for the kill, mostly because that’s what she felt like doing, but she restrained herself, locking joints and tightening muscles. However, Joaquin had other things in mind.

He started at the base of her neck, his tongue and teeth working in tandem to make everything inside of her warm and gooey.

“
I won’t hurt you, not this time,” he whispered against her jaw, pressing butterfly light kisses along it. He teased the corner of lip. “Open.”

And as if that was somehow a magical command, she did. In her next heartbeat, his mouth was sealed over hers and he was drinking her in. She couldn’t stop kissing him, touching him, or moaning in his mouth. Four years of longing passed between them. In that moment time fell away, old regrets and new frustrations erasing from her heart with each toe-curling kiss.

Their tongues touched, then tangled as her body cried more. He was hard against her stomach and she touched him there, sliding her hand under the waistband of his loose jeans and caressing him until
she
was so damn weak in the knees that she all but thanked God when Joaquin swept her off of her feet.