A Copper Ridge Christmas Page 8

  He did so then, kissed her with everything he had, kissed her until he tasted salt on her lips. He opened his eyes, saw tears streaming down her cheeks. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

  She shook her head. “No. I just... I can’t believe you did this for me.”

  “I know you said you get to throw all the parties you never had, but I couldn’t help but think it wasn’t fair no one was throwing parties for you for so many years before Margie and Dan.” He swallowed hard, trying to lessen the knot of emotion that was building in his chest. He wasn’t quite sure what was wrong with him. Why he was feeling such deep regret. He’d had a similar upbringing, and this stuff—parties and other moments of fun—wasn’t something that had ever mattered to him. But they mattered to her. And that made him feel it. There was something about her that made him feel connected to things in a way he wasn’t usually. Not just his own feelings, but hers.

  He’d never wanted to do anything like this for another person. Had never wanted to fix things for someone. To matter to them.

  He wanted to matter to her. To fix every broken thing inside of her. But how could he? How could he when everything in him was still fucked all to hell?

  Her hands went to his chest, slid down his stomach, pushing beneath the fabric, her fingertips hot on his bare skin. And he figured he would worry about feelings later.

  “Hey, I didn’t light your candles yet,” he said.

  She stretched up on her toes and kissed him. “This is what I want for my birthday. That kiss you should have given me then.”

  “If you keep touching me like that it’s going to be more than a kiss.”

  “I hope so,” she said, pushing her hands up farther beneath his shirt, gathering up the material. He lifted his arms and she pushed the whole thing up over his head. He cast it onto the floor, wrapping his arms around her, holding her tight, sliding his tongue against hers.

  “What about your cake?” he asked.

  “You’re better than cake,” she said, her voice husky, her lips soft against his. “You’re better than any party. Even half a dozen parties in one.”

  “That’s pretty high praise.” He angled his head, grazing his teeth across her jaw, gratified when she let out a sharp, needy sound.

  “For me? There isn’t any higher praise.”

  “I know.”

  As he held her in his arms, as she ran her fingertips over his body after she divested him of his clothes, he couldn’t fathom how such a warm, beautiful woman had come from a place of such coldness and neglect. She was too good for them.

  Too good for him, a boy who’d been raised under the iron fists of a man who didn’t believe in kindness. He didn’t think he would ever hurt her, not like his father had done to him and his mother. But he didn’t know how to love either. Not in the right way.

  Holly had come out of such a terrible place still smiling. So much brighter, so much more genuine than him. He could never bear it if he stole her smile.

  But tonight? Tonight he made her happy. They only had another week, so it didn’t matter what happened after this. Now he could make her smile. For now, he made her happy. And so he would do it. The best he could, as long as he could.

  He removed her clothes slowly, unwrapping her like she was the most precious gift. He sucked in a sharp breath, examining her every curve, her soft pale skin, her full, round breasts, the perfect pink nipples at the center. Her softly rounded stomach, and perfectly curved hips.

  He would never get tired of looking at her. Of allowing himself this fantasy fulfillment of a dream he barely ever indulged in.

  He’d always known she was too sweet for him. Had always known that his hands—rough, workman’s hands—weren’t fit to touch her. And yet here he was, skimming his hands over her every curve, over every inch of her beauty, claiming it like it was his, like he had a right, when he knew damn well he didn’t.

  He kissed her lips, pink and flushed, then down her neck, and down farther still, drawing one tightened bud into his mouth and sucking hard, relishing the sound of pure pleasure that escaped her as he did. He moved lower, forging a trail of kisses down to her belly button, then lower, gripping her hips hard, his fingertips digging in to her skin.

  “Ryan?”

  He adored the question in her voice, the betrayal of her inexperience, of the fact that no other man had ever done what he was about to do. He shouldn’t relish it, should feel nothing but guilt, and yet, he couldn’t find any. Because there was nothing in him but pure fire, pure pleasure, and pure selfishness. He wanted to taste her, to know he was the only man to have ever done this.

  More evidence that he was a bastard. But he didn’t care.

  He held onto her tightly, tugging her in toward his mouth, tasting her deeply, sliding his tongue through her damp folds until she cried out.

  He wrapped one arm around her lower back, still holding her hips with the other, pulling her down to the floor with him and laying her back gently before hooking her legs over his shoulders and burying his face between her thighs.

  She was beautiful, she was perfect, the embodiment of every male fantasy. He was not worthy of the gift, but he would take it. He would take it hard, he would take it fast, and he would take it as many times as he could get it.

  This was a party for her, but it was one for him, too. These whole two weeks were a party just for him. Until he had to go back to his life on the boat. Alone. Because he couldn’t quite figure out how to make a life with other people work.

  In that moment his heart ached for the things he couldn’t have. For the things he couldn’t be. For the first time in years he wished it could be different. That he could be everything a woman like her deserved. It was easy to be fine alone, living on a boat when there was no around he wanted to share his life with. Share himself with.

  If he ever did, it would be her.

  That couldn’t be. But they could have now.

  He reached over and found his jeans, procuring a condom and rolling it on quickly. He braced himself over her, kissing her deeply before thrusting inside her body.

  He was lost then, in her, in this. He could stay here forever, frozen in time, at every party for every holiday he could think of and find decorations for, celebrating the fact that right now he had her.

  He lowered his head, kissing her neck as fire wound itself around his veins, stealing his control, pushing his heart into overdrive. His movements became erratic, uncontrolled. He could do nothing but simply give himself over to the experience. Pray that she found her release, because he was at the mercy of his.

  She gripped his shoulders tight, her fingernails digging into his skin as she let her head fall back, the sound of her release perfection to his ears, her internal muscles clenching tight around his cock as she gave herself over to her pleasure. That was his permission to surrender to his own. Release roared through him like a beast, but it wasn’t a relief. It tore at him, tormented him, dragged him down into hell and back, showing him a taste of bliss and eternity that could never fully be his before wrenching him back into the real world, spent and exhausted, and so far from satisfied. He would never get enough of this. Never get enough of her. But he would have to. Because at the end of next week, all of this would be over. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

  * * *

  MORE OFTEN THAN NOT they seemed to end up on the floor somewhere in her house, only making it to the bed later.

  She smiled and snuggled deeper into his hold, trailing her fingertips over his chest. She enjoyed the physical pleasure she found with him, but it was more than that. It was these moments of intimacy. Of quiet. Where they held each other and said nothing. Where she felt overwhelmed by the comfort and familiarity of being in his arms, and the exhilarating, electrifying newness of it. Of knowing him this way. Of deepening an existing bond that was
stronger than she imagined.

  “The day I came to live with Margie and Dan was the day I got out of the hospital,” he said, his voice rough.

  Holly curled her fingers into fists, tightening her hold on him. “Ryan, you don’t have to...”

  “I’d been taken out of my parents’ house before. But they would do the classes, and I would go back. But not after this one. The one favor my mother ever did for me was calling an ambulance after my dad beat me that last time. I’m sure once he got out of jail it didn’t work out so well for her.”

  “Ryan...”

  “I’m not telling you this so you’ll feel bad. I just want you to know. I want you to understand, I guess.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t usually care if anyone understands. But I want you to.”

  “I do. I think I always have.” She wouldn’t tell him she knew he was only grumpy in order to keep people away so he didn’t get hurt. Because he would deny that. But she did. “I know you,” she said instead.

  “Make me understand you, Holly Fulton. Tell me your story.”

  They’d known each other for a long time. Lived in the same house, spent holidays together. But they didn’t talk about their lives before Margie and Dan. Not to anyone.

  She wanted to talk to him.

  Holly swallowed hard, her throat tightening up. As though her body were trying to keep her from saying out loud things she had kept inside for the past fourteen years. “Child Protective Services had been out to my house before too,” she said, each word coming slowly. “I’d been removed temporarily, and brought back. Like you said, parental classes, and things like that. But my parents never hit me. The school would call because I was stealing food in the cafeteria because I was hungry. They’d realized I wasn’t eating at home again. My mom would always try for a while. My dad never really tried at all. I’m not sure if he noticed when I left. But that last day, it was my mom who called. She called them because she didn’t think she could take care of me anymore. She didn’t want to.”

  A tear slid down her cheek, and she didn’t bother to wipe it away. She continued. “It was summer. I was home from school, and my mother was at work. My father came home with a woman. I didn’t know her. I knew more or less what was going on, but I just did my best to ignore it. Later, the woman came out of the bedroom and saw me. I was really skinny, and I must have looked hungry and kind of dull. She asked if I wanted anything. I wasn’t allowed to just take food out of the cupboard without permission. My mom would get mad. The woman, Josie, I still remember her name, she didn’t think that was right. She got some bread and peanut butter and made me a sandwich. She sat me at the kitchen table, and she talked to me. She was worried I wasn’t eating enough. Then my mother came home.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut tight, trying to keep any more tears from falling. “She was so angry. She knew my father had affairs. She knew he was unfaithful. She...she felt like she’d tried, at least. Tried to love me and then I betrayed her too. Accepting something from another woman, I guess.”

  “Holly,” he said, kissing her forehead. “You have to know that wasn’t a betrayal on your part. You have to know that.”

  “I do know that. But it’s why I was sent away. Reality didn’t matter. She was already under stress and that was the last straw. The one she couldn’t handle. If I had done something different—”

  “You might never have gotten out. They were wrong, Holly. That’s all there is to it. They were your parents. Parents are supposed to take care of their children. Parents aren’t supposed to hit their children. Parents aren’t supposed to try and use their children as a Band-Aid. Parents are supposed to feed their children. Hug them. They’re not supposed to send them away. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Neither did you,” she said.

  He said nothing to that, only tightened his arms around her. “Thanks for talking me into this,” he said. “The Christmas party, I mean. You didn’t talk me into this.” He clearly meant the two of them lying naked under the Christmas tree.

  “Me too.” But she meant more than just the Christmas party, and she was happy enough if he didn’t realize that. If he didn’t realize just how much this moment, and he, meant to her.

  He was warm. He was holding her. She’d spent a long time cold and alone. This might not be forever, but it was one of the most beautiful moments she’d ever experienced. No matter what happened later, she would always be glad they had the now.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE COPPER RIDGE AIRPORT had only one terminal and one baggage carousel. It didn’t take long to catch sight of Margie and Dan coming through the revolving doors that brought them from behind the single line security checkpoint and out into the general area.

  Margie pulled him into a hug without hesitation, and Dan clapped him on the back. “Good to see you,” the older man said. “How’s the fishing?”

  “Hard work,” Ryan said. “But doing for a living what most people retire to do isn’t the worst gig in the world.”

  “It’s not the same as sitting out in the middle of a lake in a motorboat, but I’m glad you’re happy,” Dan said, smiling. “Anyway, it’s not Hawaii.”

  “Yeah, well, it gives me something to look forward to for when I’m old,” Ryan said. “It’s nice to know there are still better things on the horizon. I don’t want to peak too soon.”

  “Your work should never be the peak, son,” Dan said, looking at his wife. “Hard work matters. But in the end it’s not what you’re left with.”

  Ryan looked at Margie and Dan, thought of their legacy. The Farm and Garden was certainly part of it. Everyone in Copper Ridge shopped there for something or another. But that wasn’t what Ryan loved them for. It wasn’t what he would remember.

  For some reason, the thought made his chest feel tight.

  The conveyer belt on the baggage claim started up and Ryan made a move toward it. “What color are your bags? Let me get them.”

  “They’re the really ugly ones with the flowers. You’ll know which ones,” Margie said. “So much easier to see.”

  Ryan smiled, not commenting on the fact that he had a feeling Margie liked the loud, colorful bags better and had used the ‘easy to spot’ excuse on Dan so he would agree to carry a bag with flowers around.

  Of course, Dan would agree to it, anyway. He agreed to whatever Margie wanted, and seemed to enjoy doing it.

  He stood, waiting for the bags to come around, and looked back at the older couple. They were standing together, Dan with his arm around his wife, an easy silence settling over them.

  It was a strange moment, standing there, thinking about what his future might look like.

  Ryan made it a practice not to look too many steps ahead. There was no point. His life had been kind of a hard slog. Spending days avoiding his father’s fists, then coming to live with the Traverses and hoping that he wouldn’t get moved again. Wouldn’t get sent back. He’d worked tooth and nail to get into his boat and to get his business established. Planning for retirement was a privilege he hadn’t gotten around to yet. But it wasn’t only that.

  He’d never imagined himself as an old man. More, he’d never imagined who might be standing alongside him, and who wouldn’t be.

  Looking back at Dan and Margie, he knew he didn’t want to be standing alone. He wanted someone to retire to Hawaii with. Or not retire to Hawaii, necessarily, but someone to be with him. He couldn’t look up to his father, never had. He’d put his head down and taken the blows, but he’d never imagined for a moment that he wanted to be like his old man. He’d never much imagined what he wanted to be. He prized hard work, because Dan had shown him it was the key. Dan was a man who worked hard, who ran a good, honest business, and had made a good living at it. But he was more than that. He was more than work. He was a husband, and a surrogate father to many kids who’d gone through th
e foster system in Copper Ridge.

  It wasn’t enough to just work hard. Because at the end of the day, at the end of his life, he didn’t want to just be a man with a boat. He wanted to be the man standing there with a woman who still looked at him like he was something special.

  He wanted to stand there with Holly. Because it was only with Holly that he could actually accomplish any of this. Holly made him feel like more. More than just a guy on a boat. More than just a kid whose father had used him for a punching bag. If she wasn’t broken, neither was he. And he knew that she was in. He also knew she deserved the best. He might never be the best, but he could be more.

  It took him a moment to realize that he’d let Dan and Margie’s bags pass by on the conveyor belt.

  “Do you have something on your mind, Ryan?” Margie asked, moving to his side.

  “Just thinking about everything you two have given me. Thank you. You know, my dad never taught me a damn thing, and just standing there you made me realize something. That’s pretty amazing.”

  Margie pulled him back into a hug, squeezing him tight. “We’ve helped a lot of kids, Ryan. And no matter the outcome, we would do it again,” she said. “But it isn’t enough to just get advice. You have to follow it. You’re one of the few who has. At least parts of it.”

  He knew what she was talking about. Of course, Margie wanted him married with kids and all of that. He swallowed hard. He was starting to think maybe he wanted that, too.

  For the first time he believed he really could have more. More with Holly.

  He would just have to convince her.

  He went after the suitcases and pulled them off the conveyer belt, holding one in each hand. “Let’s go,” he said. “We actually have a surprise for you.”

  * * *

  IT WAS CHRISTMAS EVE, and Holly felt profoundly morose. Decidedly strange because she had loved the holidays from the moment she first met the Travers family.

  It wasn’t a mystery why this one wasn’t welcome, though. It was because the arrival of Christmas meant her time with Ryan was coming to a close.