Secret Santa Read online

  “This morning. I wasn’t kicking you out. I liked having you there. You got it wrong.” The racking shudders had finally fled her bones, but they took all her remaining heat along with them. “That hurt.” Everything hurt, and her skin felt as if she had spent too many hours exposed on a mountaintop, sun-raised blisters flaring painful heat all along the surface of her skin. “Freezing burns, I did not know that.” Even the words in my head are slurring now, she thought, “I wanted you to stay. I danced with you. You saw me.”

  Her head tipped back against his arm and she looked up, holding her eyes open with effort in order to see his strong neck and that beautiful, full beard. “I just wanted to explain about Kitt.”

  “Hold on, darlin’. Nearly there. Hold on.” If possible, his voice gained another layer of tender on top of the gravel-filled demand.

  “Okay.” Her eyes sank closed, and she floated down into the exhausting and blistering cold.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Truck

  “Kitt, I need you to open the door.” The boy moved to do that, stepping back to hold the screen wide and Truck pushed past the only partially closed inside door. “Where’s the bathtub, son? We need to warm your momma up.”

  She was so cold, and had gone still over the last mile, her body loose-limbed in his arms. He hadn’t really been worried about hypothermia until her speech had turned delirious, then he realized she had stopped shivering, the clicking of her teeth ceasing as she fled consciousness.

  Kitt led the way up the stairs and Truck used the heel of his boot to push the front door shut before following. They turned right at the top of the stairs and into what looked like the master bedroom and Truck paused a moment, taking in the only room in the house that held character. Decorated in warm, rich colors and fabrics, it held a large, tall bed covered in plush blankets and throw pillows. The walls were covered in paintings and pictures, and he knew he would enjoy spending time in here plucking at the threads of his Vanna’s personality, learning what made her tick.

  First you need to warm her up, he heard and grinned. “Warm her up, and wake her up,” he said aloud, agreeing with Tish for once.

  “Present,” Kitt said, stopping in the middle of the room and holding out the object in his hand, tattered paper nearly gone; the black rectangle bearing only a few remaining scraps. Truck looked down to see Kitt’s muddy feet had left a smudged trail all the way across the polished wood of the floor.

  Shit, Truck thought, got two to warm up. “Kitt, son, can you go get yourself some warm, dry, clean clothes?”

  I got this one, Tish said, and Kitt turned to the door, again cradling the item he had carried so cautiously through the woods. “Present.” His tone was aggrieved, but he moved out of sight and down the hallway.

  Truck called after the boy, “Bring your clothes back here, Kitt. Hang out with me while we get Mom warmed up.”

  “PRESENT!” The bellow from a distance away made Vanna shift in his arms, and he continued on his path to the door that he hoped led to an adjoining bath.

  Looking around the little room, he saw a wide, long bathtub lining the far wall, a separate shower stall arranged at one end. A short wall served as a divider, with the stool on the other side. Cabinets were built into the wall behind the door, and he saw decorative towels hanging from a rod near the sink. This was another area with a definite stamp of personality, and he chuckled to see the whimsical mermen paintings that hung on either side of the vanity mirror. His Vanna enjoyed a bit of fantasy it seemed, if the unrealistic bulging muscles and pecs on the fish-tailed men were any indication. I’d give her whatever fantasy she needed, he thought, cautiously reaching out to twist the tub’s faucet handles, releasing a flood of water, carefully balancing his burden.

  The sound reminded him of his terror as he ran beside her towards the creek, imagination feeding him visions of a struggling Kitt fighting chin-deep in raging waters. The outcome could have been so different, and this possibility was something he knew Vanna lived with every day with her boy. Trying to decipher his wants and needs from the limited clues he could provide. She lived her life in anticipation of the next demand. Always on duty, it seemed.

  Fingers in the heating water, he tugged the tub stopper in place, seeing the level immediately begin to rise. He had just sat back on his haunches when he heard the rumble of an approaching vehicle and waited, listening to see if it passed by her house. When the engine noise swelled and cut off, he knew it must have pulled into her driveway. She might have called someone before she chased after Kitt, he thought, then discarded the idea. She’d run out of the house without shoes, without grabbing her phone, and without closing her door, there was no way she’d stopped to make a call.

  “CADE!” Kitt’s happy shout split the air and then Truck heard the boy’s feet pelting back down the stairs, accompanied by Tish’s laughter in his head. Boy’s got sweatpants on him at least, she said and Truck shook his head at how his mind filled in her humor.

  Sounds like it’s someone he knows, Truck thought. Listening to the commotion of multiple people moving around on the ground floor, chatter and laughter interspersed with what sounded like concerned inquiries. Not willing to wait any longer to get Vanna into the water, he settled her into the warmth, keeping a hand behind her head, one tucked under her arm, supporting and holding her in place.

  He narrowed his eyes when he recognized one of the voices filling the downstairs with loud demands. Tipping his head towards the door he shouted, “Gunny, man, upstairs.” Heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs, followed by the now-familiar tread of Kitt, and another set he suspected belonged to Sharon.

  “What the fuck?” Gunny’s head stuck in the bathroom door, his gaze sweeping over Truck and Vanna. “The fuck are you doing in Peeper’s bathroom, Truck?”

  Truck turned back to a Vanna who had begun to rouse, the heat from the rising water finally beating back the chill. Mud and dirt swirled around her, twigs and leaves floating on top of the water and her thin t-shirt clung to every curve showing above the surface. Beautiful curves, he thought, his gaze tracing to the still-rising level of water and back up, beautiful woman.

  Glancing back at Gunny, he made a quick decision to protect Kitt from knowing how his actions had endangered his mother, saying instead, “Kitt had a big morning. Went for a swim in the creek.” He moved his feet slightly, conscious of his own wet socks and cold toes. “Vanna decided to join him.” Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks, eyes peeking up at him in bemused surprise. “I need to get her warmed up, man. Can you and Sharon see to Kitt?”

  Sharon’s voice floated from behind him, concern warring with laughter in her tone. “Can do, Truck.” Her voice turned wheedling, “Come on, Kitt. Let’s get a shirt on you and warm socks. No seams, I know how you roll, buddy.”

  Shuffling footsteps were moving into the hallway when he heard Kitt say, uncertainty in his voice, “Cade?”

  Without hesitation Sharon said, “You betcha, buddy. Cadence is sleeping on the couch, but we’ll get you warm and then we’ll set things up so you and she can play.” Truck hadn’t gotten a look at Sharon before she left Vanna’s bedroom with Kitt, but she must have had her and Gunny’s newest baby with her, because she continued, “And if you want to hold Kitten, we can arrange that, too.”

  Gunny’s voice was rough with concern when he asked, “What the fuck happened, brother?”

  “Kitt took a runner, tumbled into the creek.” He shifted his hands, assisting Vanna in her efforts to sit up, feeling the occasional shivers still making their way through her. He sat back, trying not to smile when she glanced down to see the tips of her hardened nipples poking tents in her wet shirt, the transparent fabric doing nothing to hide the broad circles of her pebbled areolas. With a groan she lifted her arms and crossed them over her chest, not realizing she created cleavage he found just as delectable. Tongue tracing the inside of his lips, he waited until he could be sure his voice wouldn’t give his arousal away before continuing, “
Vanna fell while we were getting him out.”

  “And you’re here because…” The tone of this question was hard, hanging in the air like an accusation. Gunny was protective of people he considered his responsibility, and from her stories last night Truck knew Vanna fell directly in that camp. He would need to tread as carefully with his brother as he had Kitt to ensure things stayed copacetic with Gunny.

  “Bought a house down the road. As next door as it gets out here in the country. Vanna was gracious last night, offering use of her phone when I needed to make a call to the clubhouse and didn’t have signal.” He twisted, looking up at the big ex-Marine. “I get she’s important to you, Gunny. I wouldn’t disrespect the pictures on her wall, brother. Vanna’s a beauty, inside and out, and I see she’s more than a friend to you.” Time to say things plain, make sure there’re no misunderstandings. “I get it, brother. Much as it kills me, hell…much as I want to, I won’t go there.”

  Laughter barked from Gunny’s throat and he shocked Truck by saying, “Fuck, man. She wants you to go there, you’d be a fuckin’ fool to pass this woman by.”

  A sound came from the tub and Truck turned back to see Vanna’s head tipped to one side, her eyes on him. As he watched, one corner of her mouth curled up into a smile.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Vanna

  Is he saying what I think he’s saying? The bemused thought flitted through her head as she stared up at Truck.

  Gunny’s laughter trailed off and she met his gaze over the top of Truck’s head. “Peepers.” He cleared his throat before continuing, “Momma, you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah, Lane.” His mouth curved in a smile in response to hers. “I’m good.”

  “Want some coffee?”

  It was her turn to chuckle and she nodded as she responded, “That would be perfect, son.”

  “Right on. You got it.” Gunny tapped the doorframe twice, then twice again before ducking out and into her bedroom. She listened until she heard his voice join Sharon’s downstairs, then turned to look at Truck, still kneeling beside the tub.

  As she stared at him, thoughts of their evening rolled through her head. His laughter at her stories, the way he held her in his sleep, how well they fit together. Dancing with him. The unhappy look in his eyes when he misunderstood her words this morning. How it had hurt to let him walk out the door, thinking in her pain that she was simply being maudlin again. Discounting what she felt.

  Then there was his sudden and miraculous appearance in the woods, helping her hold it together so she could think, then his headlong dash across the field as he rushed to save her son. How he coaxed Kitt home, speaking soft encouraging words to her son while she listened with eyes closed, suspended securely in his arms. He was the same man with or without an audience. Good and kind, caring and supportive. And he kinda just said he wants me, she thought.

  Lips pressed together, the expression on his face somber, he stared back at her. He’s about to do something really stupid. Don’t let him say goodbye, a thought not her own flitted through her head and she jerked, then blurted an unexpected question, “You sorta like me?”

  He blinked and his mustache moved, cheeks lifting his lips into a smile. “Yeah, darlin’. I sorta do.”

  Still unfiltered, she heard her voice say, “I like you, too.” He blinked again, and his mouth opened but she forestalled whatever he had been about to say when she continued, “Sorta a lot. Like, not even sorta. Just a lot.”

  Truck moved, his hand gliding up her shoulder as he lifted it to cup her jaw. Leaning in, he brushed his lips across hers. Coming back for a second pass, still gentle, then he pressed in, as in pressed in, molding his mouth to hers in a way that demanded a response. She kissed him back, his face slowly fading from view as her eyes slipped closed. The roar of the water rushing from the faucet drowned out the other sounds in the room for long minutes. No one could hear how his exploration of her mouth evoked soft moans. Her gasps as their tongues were slipping and sliding, tangling deliciously. “I amend my previous statement,” he murmured when he finally pulled back a fraction, lips still touching hers, beard tickling her skin. “I don’t sorta like you. I just like you. A lot.”

  Head tipped back, resting on the edge of the tub, she felt the loss of his hand then heard the water cut off and she knew where it went. Quickly it was back, stroking down her throat, curving around her shoulder as he lifted her to meet his mouth again. Her fingers glided up his arm, and she let her thumb caress his rough, bearded jaw. Feeling the muscles flex and move under her touch as he kissed her, wet and deep, eating down her moans with an open, hungry mouth. She stretched, moving up, fingers sliding into his hair, tangling on the tie holding it back and away from his face.

  His hand shifted, palm covering her breast and this time it was she who took his reaction in, his deep groan rattling down her throat as his powerful fingers flexed and tightened, gentle as they caressed her. “God, Vanna,” he said, his voice holding that rough edge she hadn’t recognized as passion before.

  Kitt shouted from downstairs and she smiled, feeling Truck’s lips curving against hers in reply. “I think I should pretend to be a good hostess. Kitt’s a lot to take when he’s this excited.”

  “Shar’s got this,” he told her, but he slowly released his grip, shifting back to sit on his heels. “You get warmed up before you climb out, darlin’.” Reaching out, he trailed one thumb across her lips, gaze tracing the path with a heated look. “If you’re steady now, I’ll let you get cleaned up. I’ll see you downstairs?”

  This last was a question, and she knew it was his way of being sure she wanted him there when she came downstairs. “You better, mister. I know where you live, you know. I can hunt you down.” His shouted laughter rang loud in the small room, and she smiled up at him as he caressed her face one last time before leaving.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Truck

  Never would have expected this to be my Christmas day, he thought, looking around Vanna’s kitchen. Gunny and Sharon stood to one side, Gunny with beer in hand because he’d informed Vanna that skunky or not, if there was beer he’d be drinking it. Kitt was next to them, but ass to the floor, legs straight out, the toddler Cadence holding his hands for balance as she stood on his thighs. Knees bending, her body was rocking back and forth in a dance to music it seemed only she and Kitt could hear, because his head tipped back and forth in time.

  He had hurried, but Vanna had already been downstairs before he returned from heading through the woods to his house for a change of clothes. When he walked in carrying his duffle, she smiled at him, reaching her hand out to take the bag from his suddenly nervous grip, tossing it to Kitt with a quiet request to take up and put in her bedroom.

  Vanna was tucked against his side, nice and tight so his arm could wrap around her and hold her in place. She and Sharon hadn’t stopped talking for more than a minute, and he glanced down as she laughed, her head tipping back so she caught his gaze. Dipping his head, he brushed his mouth against hers, feeling the heat and silk of her lips.

  Gunny interrupted, saying loudly, “Saw nobody opened the packages I fuckin’ wrapped and mailed. What the hell, Peepers? You slackin’ on Christmas, woman?”

  Kitt’s head straightened at Gunny’s words and he pulled Cadence close, eyes fixed on her face as he whisper-shouted, “Presents. Cade, presents.” Looking up at his mother, he told Vanna, “Now, presents.”

  “Yes, Kitt. We can open presents now.”

  Gunny scooped up a laughing Cadence and they all made their way into the dining room. Kitt repeated the earlier scene, demanding everyone sit on the floor near the tree while he shook his head at Truck, putting the Santa hat on a laughing Gunny’s head this time.

  There were more presents under the tree than before, and Kitt’s face twisted in confusion until Sharon explained, “We brought our Christmas with us, buddy.” She handed a sleeping Kitten to Vanna and scooted a little closer. “I’ll help you. We’ll sort things out.
”

  She and Kitt made quick work, creating six piles of packages, then Kitt surprised Truck when he placed the sodden rectangle to one side, patting it. “Truck.” Kitt kept his hand on it for a moment, then looked at Truck, his expression severe as he said, “Wait.”

  “Okay, son, I’ll wait,” he replied and Kitt held his version of a lock on their gaze, eyes cutting up and down, glancing away and back, away and back before holding a moment longer. Then his eyes darted to the rest of the packages.

  Twenty minutes later nearly all the packages had been opened, paper and ribbons discarded in a flurry of tearing and shouts of joy. Cadence had abandoned the action early and was now seated nearby in a large box, happily playing with the set of brightly-colored building blocks she’d received.

  Kitt held the last package with his name on it, and Truck felt Vanna tense beside him. Looking at her he saw her lips had rolled to a thin line, drawn between her teeth in her nervousness. “What is it?” he whispered his question and without looking up she answered, her voice low and uneasy.