Merry Christmas, Baby (3 page)

The truth was, she knew she’d never be able to get enough of him.

God willing, he felt the same.

M
addie drove Chloe home from the B&B. Chloe hugged and kissed her sister good-bye and then unwrapped her contraband.

Tara’s red velvet robe.

Next, she went to her sewing room and set about making herself a Christmas dress for the party,
Gone With the Wind
style.

That night she crawled into bed and tossed and turned. Without Sawyer’s long, warm, hard body behind her, anchoring her in place, she couldn’t get comfortable.

Nor could she sleep.

Not with the knowledge that she’d sent Sawyer out there into a dangerous job without looking him in the eyes and telling him she loved him. That she would miss him. That he needed to come home, not to take her to some stupid Christmas party but because she couldn’t imagine her life without him.

She flipped on the lamp beside her bed and grabbed her phone.

And then debated. In the end, she couldn’t help herself. She texted him.

Are you staying safe?

Her chest tightened while she waited for a response that probably wouldn’t come because he was busy and she knew it. Stupid estrogen overload.

And then she got his reply that made her weak in the knees.

Always
.

That didn’t ease her mind at all. He was placating her, not wanting her to worry. And then, as if he read her mind, he texted:

I’m okay, Chloe. Tell me about you
.

God knows what kind of danger she’d pulled him from, but he wanted to know that she was okay. She typed:

The Bean misses you
.

She had to wait thirty minutes for a reply, which told her that she was indeed pulling him from something important, God knew what. But his response, when it came, made her need tissues. A box of them.

Tell the Bean I’ll be back soon. Tell the Bean’s mommy I’m thinking of her
.

She fell asleep hugging her phone.

And woke up the next morning to a wrapped present on her kitchen table.

Fresh, soft, doughy, perfect chocolate doughnuts from the local bakery. An entire baker’s dozen. Chloe stuffed one in her mouth and called the bakery. Leah, her friend and the local pastry chef, answered.

“Who bought a baker’s dozen of chocolate doughnuts this morning?” Chloe asked her.

“About thirty people,” Leah said. “Yes, I’m
that
good.”

“Any of those thirty people either of my sisters?”

“Nope,” Leah said.

“Their husbands?”

“Nope. Although Jax did sneak in for a bear claw and told me not to tell Maddie. You can keep a secret, right?”

Chloe blew out a breath and ate another doughnut.

Two days later Chloe dressed for the party in her gorgeous—if she said so herself—red velvet dress.

She’d ruched it over her belly and cut the neck square and low enough to show off her heart locket and extremely impressive pregnancy cleavage. Might as well flaunt it while she had it, right?

She did come up against an unexpected roadblock when it came to the shoes. On the best of days she had to be a contortionist just to see her feet, and when she managed that with the creative help of her mirror, they were swollen. Way too swollen for heels.

Plus her back was aching like a son of a bitch.

No problem, don’t panic, she told herself, and went with a pair of her favorite high-top sneakers.

Necessity, the mother of invention.

Maddie and Tara had been hovering over her like mother hens for days, and both had refused to take her to the party because they didn’t want her to have an asthma attack or go into labor.

“Honey,” Maddie had said, “Jax and I aren’t even going to go. You’re not going to miss anything.”

Uh-huh…

“Sugar, no one’s going to that silly ol’ party,” Tara had said.

Riiight.

Chloe knew her sisters loved and adored her, but they were both full of shit.

“Don’t do it,” her friend Lance said. “The hall’s going to be hot and crowded. You’ll get an asthma attack.”

At this point, she was far more likely to expire of boredom, but she didn’t even try to reason with him. Or her sisters.

Or with their husbands, who’d undoubtedly refuse to help, on the argument that, if they did, they wouldn’t get sex from their wives ever again.

So Chloe called Sawyer’s friend Tanner Riggs, who was an ex-Navy SEAL, explosives expert, and as wild and crazy as she was.

He, more than anyone, would understand.

Or so she hoped.

“Yo,” Tanner said when he picked up her call. “How you doing, sweet thing?”

“You know how I’m usually about live, laugh, love, and dance? Well, today it’s more like raise, aim, fire, and shoot.”

Tanner laughed. “So you ready to pop yet or what?”

“What,” she said, and listened to him laugh softly. “I need a favor, T.”

“Sure.”

“I need a ride to the Christmas party,” she said.

There was a long pause. “How about a favor that won’t get me murdered in my sleep by your husband?”

“Please, Tanner?” she asked softly, and when he swore softly at her plea, she knew she had him.

T
he roads were a mess, but Chloe relaxed in the backseat because Tanner wasn’t bothered by such technicalities as dangerous conditions. He parked at Town Hall and peered out his windshield. Snow was dumping out of the sky, the flakes as big and thick as dinner plates. He turned and looked at the woman riding shotgun—his fiancée, Callie—before turning to Chloe in the backseat.

Chloe set her jaw and tried to look resolute, but the truth was, now that she was here, she wasn’t feeling great. She’d had peanut butter toast before getting dressed, and it wasn’t sitting well in her stomach. And her back ached like crazy. Sawyer would know just by looking at her that she wasn’t up to par. He’d have rubbed the ache from her lower spine in five minutes flat.

But sometimes a girl couldn’t have what she wanted.

Still, she’d gotten into a dress, so she was going to enjoy herself if it killed her. Granted the weather was complete shit, but she’d done nothing but sit around the house for a week growing bigger and bigger, and more restless.

“It’s not too late to take you home,” Tanner said.

“I’m going,” she said. “I’m sorry if I sound childish, but I just really need to get out and see people.” People being anyone other than her well-meaning but overprotective sisters. They just wanted to be there for her, but if she heard one more horror story of childbirth, she was going to refuse to go into labor altogether.

God. Thinking about it, she suddenly couldn’t breathe, and it had nothing to do with her asthma. She wasn’t ready for this—

“Chloe—” Tanner’s eyes were unusually serious. “The storm is bad and getting worse. Sawyer’s going to kick my ass.”

At the mention of her husband’s name, her heart actually squeezed tight. She missed him so much. Over the week, she’d decided the mysterious presents had to somehow be from him, and she was having a hard time holding onto any mad.

All she wanted for Christmas was him.

Home.

Safe.

In her arms…

But she’d been such a bitch when he’d left, leaving her wondering where his head was at. She had no idea how she’d ever gotten lucky enough to be loved by him. “Don’t be a puss now,” she said to Tanner, pulling up her hood. “I’m doing this.”

She stepped out into the eerily silent but crazy snow and tried to stretch the kink out of her aching back.

Not happening.

Tanner and Callie got out of the car as well, decked in their finery. And Tanner in a suit was fine indeed…

“Look,” he said gently, and playfully tugged on a strand of the long, wavy red hair she’d left down because her damn back had ached too much to stand in front of the mirror and fight it into an updo. “If at any time you change your mind, I’ll take you home. We could watch a movie—”

“You have a date tonight with Callie,” Chloe reminded him.

“I don’t mind,” Callie said. “A movie sounds lovely.”

They were just being kind to the crazy pregnant lady. Chloe shook her head and started up the walk.

Tanner took ahold one of arm and Callie the other, helping Chloe through the already six inches of snow on the ground. A good thing since she couldn’t see her damn feet.

They entered the hall to find the party was in full swing, the noise and heat hitting them in a hot blast. The place was decorated within an inch of its life. Silver balls, huge Christmas trees, boughs of holly, strings of white lights—it was gorgeous and blinding.

Tanner was still at her side, and he shifted closer to murmur in her ear, “Text me and I’ll have you out of here in three minutes.”

“No you won’t,” Sam said. Sam ran Lucky Harbor Charters with Tanner, and he turned from the floor-to-ceiling windows to look at them. “Jack just heard on his radio that they’re getting ready to close the roads.”

“Then let’s get merry,” Chloe said.

Her sisters were at a table with Ford and Jax, and all four jumped up at once when she approached them. “You should all be very afraid,” Chloe said, disgruntled. “I’m not going to be Two-Ton Tilly forever. Someday soon I’ll be able to kick ass again.”

Jax snorted. “I’m pretty sure you could do it right now,” he said. “The only one not afraid of you is your man—who wouldn’t be happy to see you here.”

“Well, good thing then that he’s gone off and can’t see me, isn’t it?” Fine, so she was cranky. But she had a little hand poking in her ribs and something else, possibly a foot, tap-dancing on her bladder.

“Waddle your way over here to this chair,” Jax said, and Chloe considered killing him as Ford pulled out the chair for her and helped her ease down into it.

“I’m not an invalid,” she said.

Maddie hugged her. “Of course not. Invalids stay where they’re put.”

Tara was eyeing Chloe’s dress with suspicion. “Where did you get that?”

Well, crap. “Made it,” Chloe said.

“Yeah? Because it looks an awful lot like the robe I just purchased.”

Chloe affected a wide-eyed sad look and let her voice waver. “Are you saying I look like I’m in a bathrobe?”

“No,” Tara said quickly. “Of course not. You look beautiful.”

“Okay then,” Chloe said, and sniffed. “Thank you.”

“Let’s toast,” Maddie said, ever the peacemaker. She tapped her champagne glass to Chloe’s water glass. “To the newest addition in our crazy family—the Bean.”

Everyone drank to that, and Chloe found herself having a good time over the next hour. She tried to let the happy soak into her, through her, and wanted the baby to feel it too, but there was no denying that something was missing.

Or
someone
was missing.

Sawyer should’ve made it back by now, and she realized her cramps were most likely stress.
Please be okay
… Because he had to be, she would accept nothing less. Restless and uncomfortable, she shifted in her chair for the millionth time, to no avail.

“You okay?” Ford asked.

“Always,” she said.

He smiled at her. “Tough girl to the end.”

When the music sped up, Chloe set down her glass and stood. Time to stop dwelling. “I want to dance.”

Both sisters opened their mouths to protest, but it was Jax who leaned in. “Honey, Dr. Tyler wanted you to stay quiet.”

Chloe snorted. “Dr. Tyler didn’t say that; Sawyer said that. And he’s not here, so who’s going to dance with me?”

When both brothers-in-law stared at her, she tugged on Ford’s hand.

“Why me?” he asked.

“Because you love me the most,” she said.

Sap that he was, Ford smiled and led her to the dance floor. Then he pulled her into his arms, shifting in a natural rhythm with the music. He stroked a hand down her back, rubbing her aches and pains, making her moan.

“Here, darlin’,” he said, pulling her in tighter. “Since you’re wearing sneakers instead of your usual ballbuster heels, you can stand on my feet and let me do all the work.”

She hadn’t realized how utterly exhausted she was until she let her weight go, allowing him to hold her up. “Mmm,” she said, eyes closed, her head on his chest. “Wake me when the New Year comes, okay?”

He laughed softly and hugged her as he danced them slowly around the floor. “The most hardheaded woman I know having a child with the most stubborn man on the planet,” he marveled. “God help the two of you.”

“Don’t you mean the three of us?” Chloe asked. “Me, Sawyer, and the baby?”

“Nah,” he said. “The baby’s going to be fine. You’re going to make a great mama.”

She knew her hormones were in overdrive when her throat tightened. “You think so?”

He squeezed her gently. “I know so.” Then he took her hands in his and looked into her watery eyes. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah.” She let out a shuddery sigh. “It’s just that my back and legs hurt, and I have cramps.”

“Let’s sit down.”

“Not yet,” she said, and didn’t lift her head from his shoulder. She thought maybe she could sleep right here. Ford’s arms were strong and warm.

Not as strong and warm as Sawyer’s, though. No one was as strong as Sawyer, inside and out. From the very beginning, he’d both driven her insane and made her feel protected and safe for the first time in her life.

“He’ll be back soon,” Ford said quietly.

“You a mind reader?”

“No, you’re just not all that good at hiding your feelings.”

“Last week, I couldn’t sleep. At midnight I decided I had to have cran-apple juice. Cran-apple juice, Ford.”

“So you got thirsty.”

“At midnight,” she reminded him. “Sawyer told me he’d go first thing in the morning. The poor guy hadn’t gotten home until ten, and he had to be at work early for a meeting. I knew he wouldn’t have time to go in the morning so I threw on sweats and drove to the store. I stood there in the aisle of the grocery store and burst into tears because there was no cran-apple juice. There was a gallon of cranberry juice and a gallon of apple juice, but no cran-apple. I was going to have to buy the two gallons and mix them together. But the gallon jugs were too heavy for me to lift.”

Ford sighed. “You’re such a nut.”

“I know!”

“What happened?”

“Sawyer had followed me to the store. He bought the two gallons and shepherded me home.”

Ford laughed. “The man’s a sucker.”

“The man’s got to be insane to still want me.”

“Chloe, look at me.”

He waited until she lifted her head and met his gaze. “He’s taking these jobs because he wants to build the addition to your house for the baby, not because he wants to be away from you.”

“Are you sure?” Chloe asked with what she thought was a perfectly even voice, proud to think she was hiding her fear that it wasn’t true, that Sawyer was taking the DEA jobs because she’d turned into an endlessly pregnant shrew.

“Very sure,” Ford said, and hugged her tight. Or at least as tight as he could given that she was the size of a VW Bug.

“And when this job is finished,” he said, “he says he’s done, no more out-of-town jobs.”

“I don’t want him to give up anything for me,” Chloe said.

Ford laughed. “Have you ever seen Sawyer do anything he doesn’t want to do? We both know that, if he’s walking away from the DEA, he’s doing it because he wants to, because it’s the right thing to do.”

Chloe closed her eyes and sighed, suddenly far too exhausted to hold herself up.

“Help me get her back to her chair,” she heard a few moments later, feeling herself shift from Ford’s arms so that she was between two men.

“Here, babe.” It was Lance, her best friend and—up until getting pregnant—her cohort in crime. Sawyer had taken Lance aside and threatened bodily harm and dismemberment, promising to follow him all the way to hell if Lance got Chloe in trouble even once during her pregnancy. Lance, fighting a very losing battle against cystic fibrosis, hadn’t been in the least concerned, but out of respect for Chloe and her marriage, he’d done his best.

“Drink this,” Lance said, and Chloe opened her eyes.

She was back in her seat and Lance had brought her tea. “I’d rather a hot toddy,” she murmured, and sucked in a breath when the baby kicked her in the ribs again.

“Drink,” Lance said, not cracking his usual wiseass smile, which meant she’d worried him. A mean feat as nothing worried Lance, not even death.

“I’m okay,” she promised him. “We’re both okay.” And then she hoped that was true as another vicious cramp gripped her. She did her best to let herself fall into it, listening with half an ear as conversation went on around her.

“The snow’s coming down like mad,” she heard Maddie say in a soft, concerned whisper. “Soon as there’s a break, we’re taking her to the hospital.”

“Agreed,” Tara said.

“Not until I have cake,” Chloe managed. When the pain broke, Chloe looked up to tell them she was fine, but she stilled in shock. At first she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her so she rubbed them and focused again.

No trick. Her heart couldn’t be that cruel as it squeezed tight because Sawyer was there, right there, crouched in front of her.

He was in weather gear, dusted in snow. His expression was blank to anyone who didn’t know him. But she did know him and had no trouble catching the irritation in those brown eyes.

Before she could say a word, another pain gripped her.

His hands slid to her swollen belly, warm and sure. “The Bean,” he said. “Being rough on her mama.”

Robbed of breath, she could only nod.

“She’s just like you already,” he said. “Impatient to the end.”

Frustrated with her as he undoubtedly was and always would be, his voice remained calm and steady, and everything she’d ever needed.