Totally Worth Christmas (The Worth Series, Book 4.5: A Copper Country Novella) (6 page)

“Phee, I…” But he didn’t know what to say to this little blond sprite that had awakened him to feelings he hadn’t thought possible.

“Shhh,” she said, placing a finger against his lips. She backed up, still leading him with her other hand. She stopped when she ran into the vanity behind her. Her hand left his and she reached down and slipped her fingers just inside his belt, tugging him toward her.
 

He bumped into her, pushing her against the sink counter. Phee moved her hand behind her back as she untied her apron and placed it on the counter beside her, the change from her tips in the apron pocket jangling against the laminate countertop, some of the coins rolling out and onto the floor.

“Leave ‘em,” she said when Charlie made to retrieve them. “This is more important,” she said, taking his face in her hands. “Isn’t it?” she asked softly, looking up at him.

She wasn’t asking him if sex was more important than the quarters still rolling around the floor. She was asking for something much more, and Charlie had absolute certainty in his answer. “Yes. More important,” he said and she smiled. She started to kiss him again, but he added, “
Most
important.”

She got it, and whispered, “Me, too.”
 

Her hands trembled a little as she reached for the hem of Charlie’s sweater, and he noticed his were trembling too as he started to unbutton her uniform. Only to find the buttons were fake, decorative only, and that he was not able to peel the polyester disaster from her to touch, taste and gaze upon her pale skin.

“Zipper’s in the back,” Phee said, then kissed him with a growing passion that matched his own. “Get this thing off me,” she added, though Charlie was already unzipping.
 

Her skin was so soft, and he ran his hands up her arms after peeling the uniform down her body. He felt her kick the thing away from around her feet. He hated to break away from the kiss, but he needed to feel her against his bare chest. Regretfully leaving her lush mouth, he made quick work of his knit tee, then quickly returned to kissing her.

Holy shit! Her body pressed against his might have been the best thing he’d ever felt. Curvy and warm and soft. She smelled of vanilla and a just a bit of…bacon? Which made him even harder.
 

His senses were whirling. He needed to see her. Stepping back, he broke their kiss and looked at her. Just…looked at her.

She stood before him in sensible white cotton bra and panties. “I wasn’t expecting to be showing my underwear tonight,” she said, embarrassment in her voice.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, meaning every word. A small blush crept up her chest, to her neck and then to that adorable face.
 

She hopped up onto the counter. Charlie reached to help her, but she was already perched and reaching for him. He stepped between her open legs, his hands resting on her waist. She began to unbutton and then to unzip his jeans. Her small, warm hand reached into his boxers and grasped his hard-on. “Jesus, Phee,” he hissed, then bent to kiss her again.

He couldn’t get enough of her. Her mouth. Her full breasts, which he now held, squeezed and teased with his hands. He pulled the cups of her bra down, not even bothering to unsnap it, needing his mouth on her too badly.

“Charlie,” she moaned as he sucked a hard nipple into his mouth. Her foot ran up his thigh, her knees spreading wider to give him better access. She pushed his jeans and boxers down over his hips, freeing his cock. She grasped him once again and started slowly stroking.

He continued feasting on her breasts, moving to the other one while trying to keep his cool so he didn’t come too soon. He wanted this to last.

But then she twisted away from him, her hand leaving his erection. “What?” he said, gasping for air.
 

“Just…this…” she said, reaching for her apron.

“What?” he said. The blood had left his brain, and he couldn’t think beyond getting his mouth back on her and his cock buried deep inside her.

She pulled some quarters out of the pocket. Apparently not all of them littered the floor. She handed them to him and then pointed to the wall. And a condom dispenser.

Charlie chuckled as he fed the quarters into the machine. “Classy place you work in.”
 

She laughed. “Don’t I know it. But really, are you complaining?”

He took the packet from the dispenser and ripped it open. She took it from his hands and rolled it on him. She rocked back and forth, helping him as he peeled her panties off. He stepped into between spread legs once again. Taking her face in his hands, he looked at her and asked quietly, “You sure?”

She swallowed, licked her lips and nodded. “Very,” she said as she guided him to her.

“Holy wah,” she whispered as he pushed into her. A fleeting feeling of familiarity at hearing those words rushed through Charlie’s head, but then she clenched around him and he didn’t—
couldn’t
—think about anything other than making love to Phee.
 

Chapter Seven

I stopped believing in Santa Claus when I was six.
 

Mother took me to see him in a department store and he asked for my autograph.

~ Shirley Temple

Three weeks later

T
he strains of “Let’s Stay Together” wafted upstairs to Phoebe where she sat in the guest room that Alison had assigned to her earlier when she’d dressed for the party.

God, she’d played that night over in her head so many times in the past three weeks, but hearing that song gave her a physical pang of emptiness. And horniness.

She’d never had a one-night stand before. In fairness, she hadn’t really thought it would only be one night while Charlie held her in his arms. And it might not have been if she hadn’t received the call about Clea. She’d never know.

“Oh, there you are. I sent a good looking young man to bring you a beer, did he find you?”

Phoebe shook her head. “No. I came up here for a minute to…to…” She looked around desperately, trying to think of a reason that she needed to escape the party.

“To have a moment to yourself?” Lizzie diplomatically offered.

“Yes, exactly. They’re great people, and I want to thank you for bringing me, making me get out of the house.”

“But whatever has been bothering you isn’t going to go away by a cute boy bringing you beer.”

Phoebe smiled. “Because he’s not the
right
boy.”
 

 
“Understood.” Lizzie joined her where she sat on the edge of bed. “Are you sure you want to leave Port Huron?”

“It doesn’t matter. He’s not there anymore anyway.”

“Where is he?”

Phoebe’s voice caught as she tried to speak, and she finally just held her hands up in a “who knows” fashion. “Oh, honey,” Lizzie said, putting an arm around her.

She told Lizzie the story, or most of it. She mentioned the instant chemistry she’d felt with a guy she met in the diner, how they talked all night and had made a bone-deep connection. She didn’t tell Lizzie she’d had sex on the bathroom counter, but judging by Lizzie’s blush, Phoebe figured her sister-in-law got the point.

“And I blew it. I totally blew it. I thought I was protecting myself in case he didn’t show up the next night. No risk, right? He shows up, we spill all our personal info, then become damn Facebook friends or something. Or, he doesn’t show, and I don’t get all obsessive about him, because I can’t.” She felt something wet on her cheeks and realized they were falling tears.

Lizzie squeezed her even tighter, but waited for Phoebe to go on. “And then the next day…”

“Finn called about Clea,” Lizzie finished for her. “Oh, Phoebe, I’m so sorry. There’s no way Finn—or Clea for that matter—would have wanted you to drop everything and come home. Especially if they had any idea what being at the diner that night meant to you.”

“I know. But I wanted to come home for Gran. It was important to me.”

Lizzie nodded, stroking Phoebe’s bare shoulder. “Pheebs,” she said quietly, “why didn’t you just wait and come home the next day?”

It was the question Phoebe had asked herself every day in the past three weeks. She knew the answer. She just hadn’t admitted it, even to herself. “I was scared,” she said.

“Wasn’t Finn clear that Clea wasn’t in immediate danger? I told him to make that very clear. I knew I should have talked to—”

“That wasn’t it. I mean, I was concerned about Gran, of course, but Finn was clear about her condition.” Lizzie waited. Phoebe took a deep breath, running her hands across her face and wiping away her tears. “What I felt for this guy was so real it scared me. When we left the diner, I hoped he’d come back the next night, but like I said, I’d protected myself if he didn’t. But all that morning, I started thinking about if he did. I mean, really thinking about it. Beyond, ‘Oh, he likes me.’”

She clasped her hands in her lap, her skin even paler than normal against the red satin of Alison’s dress. “It was real, Lizzie. And deep. Even though we’d only met, it was like…we knew. You know?”

Lizzie nodded. “Sometimes you just know.”

“And I knew. And I also knew this was it. No more roommates and loser boyfriends that I could walk away from, or who could walk away from me. This was grown-up time.”

“That is some scary shit, for sure,” Lizzie said.

“And I know I want what you and Finn have. But, if I’m being honest, I think on some level I picked loser boyfriends because I knew there was no risk of a future together. That I wasn’t ready, or because of my messed-up mom, I didn’t deserve it or something.”

“Of course you deserve happiness. With a good guy.” Lizzie emphasized the last.

“I know that…in theory.”

“But in reality?”

She shrugged, unable to escape the truth. “In reality, when it became a possibility, I took the first chance I could to run like hell.”

“Well, you know…”
 

“But I came to my senses. Right around Marquette, I pulled over and called the diner to ask the owner to pass on my cell number if a guy came looking for me.”

“See. Your good sense overrode your fear. Good girl.”

“Yeah, except I’d already quit with no notice. The owner laughed and told me to…you know. He wasn’t going to be helping me out anytime soon.”

“But you had made the choice to follow through, right? To try for a grown-up, real relationship with this guy?” Phoebe nodded her head, and Lizzie continued. “That’s so huge, Pheebs. That’s, like, ninety percent of the battle.”

She shrugged. “Maybe, but the realization came too late.”

“Bah-humbug. Don’t be a Scrooge, even if ‘tis the season.”

“Huh?”
 

Lizzie was already standing up and pacing in front of Phoebe. “First thing tomorrow we’ll make a list. We’ll deconstruct that night minute by minute.” At Phoebe’s look of shock, Lizzie laughed. “Well, not
those
minutes. But all the stuff you guys talked about. I know you said you didn’t do the contact info stuff, but I’ll bet we can get some clues.” She was talking to herself now. “The
right
clues. And then we’ll get online. This is going to be a cinch.”

“Wow,” Phoebe said. Lizzie stopped her plotting and looked at her. “Finn didn’t stand a chance, did he?”

A beguiling smile crossed Lizzie’s face. “Nope. Not a chance.”

“And thank God for that,” Phoebe said and rose from the bed to give Lizzie a hug.

“There you are,” Alison said, entering the room with Katie Luna behind her. Phoebe had met Katie at the same time she’d met Alison, though Katie’s breathtaking beauty had intimidated the crap out of Phoebe. She seemed really nice, though.

There was a pointed look between Lizzie and Katie, and Katie gave a small nod. “You told her?” Lizzie asked.

“Yes,” Katie said. Both women moved into the room, joining hands, and then hugs, with Lizzie. Phoebe found herself right in the middle of the group hug.

“Katie’s pregnant,” Lizzie said as the women untangled themselves.

“Oh, congratulations,” Phoebe said. “But. Don’t you…didn’t you…?” She was trying to remember the news that Lizzie kept her apprised of.
 

“Have a baby just last winter? Just ten months ago? Yes, that was me,” Katie said, a laugh gurgling up as she finished. “I know, I know. I’m going to have my hands full.”

“You know what’s so weird,” Lizzie said. “I said to Phoebe on the drive over here that I thought we were going to hear some baby news tonight.” She pointed at Alison. “I just thought it was going to come from you.”

“Well…” Alison said.

“You’re not?”

“No, not pregnant. But I do have some news.”

Phoebe saw Lizzie and Katie shoot glances at Alison’s very bare left ring finger.

Alison looked at her bare wrist, like there was a watch on it. “In about ten minutes, I’m going to become Mrs. Petey Ryan.”

Phoebe felt like she was in a room of fifteen-year-old girls, not late-thirties women, based on the shrieks and whoops.