Tagged: A Blue Collar Bad Boys Christmas Read online

  But in my new life, I’m not sure if that is true anymore. Guys like Mike don’t have to be the alpha to get ahead in this world. Guys like Mike can date girls like Emily and live in a small town and be happy around books and Christmas parties for children. And that is great. Really. I have no plans for Emily other than being an extra brother for a week. That is it.

  “I haven’t had hot chocolate since I was twelve, but sure, why not?” I incline my head to Mike, searching the man’s face for jealousy and finding none. Idiot. Doesn’t he realize what he has? How easily he could lose it if I were a different kind of guy? The staying kind? “Nice meeting you, Mike.”

  Mike cocks his head, reading something into my tone. Good luck figuring it out, buddy. I don’t even know why I’m upset right now. “I’m sure I’ll see you at the kids’ party.”

  Emily and I cross the street to the coffee shop called Beans Crosby. Inside, the interior is like stepping into a vintage movie. Everything is gray and black and white with just a few punches of red here and there to draw the eye. The roasted beans smell delicious, but I know I’m in for hot chocolate instead. Which is fine. Emily tries to pay, and of course I don’t let her.

  “Let’s sit outside,” she suggests.

  “You’ll freeze.”

  She pats her hat. “It’s not that cold. C’mon.”

  We sit in front of the shop. The day is clear and crisp, but the forecast is calling for snow in the next few days. An honest to God white Christmas.

  Emily’s cheeks flush a pretty pink as she chats with me happily about the town, the traditions, and her mother’s crazy obsession with the perfect Christmas. I don’t have much to add, but I smile while she talks, enjoying the stories and her animated expressions. So unlike the girl who blended into the scenery the day before. I like that she is feeling comfortable with me again.

  I realize this is why I fought so far from home. So this girl with a pink nose could sip hot chocolate on a postcard-perfect small-town block. So others like her could enjoy the anticipation of snow and holiday cheer. So they could be safe. I’m not one of them yet, but a peaceful sensation steals over me thinking that maybe someday I could be.

  And then she stops talking abruptly and diverts her attention to her shoes. It isn’t until a man stops in front of her, instead of going past into the shop, that I realize why.

  My hackles are up and my muscles coil in ready response.

  “Emily,” the man says.

  “Hello, Alan.”

  She doesn’t introduce me, but I’m not offended. I realize something is very, very wrong and she is trying hard to hold it together.

  “This your new boyfriend?” Alan asks, his face tight and lips curling into a sneer.

  Emily shrinks further into her chair, so I stand, feeling protective and pissed off. I wish I knew why I’m pissed, but it doesn’t matter. Not really. “I’m Charlie. Friend of Carter’s.”

  “You a soldier, too?” Alan asks. He is smaller than me, but he doesn’t seem too intimidated.

  “Yeah,” I answer. Because it is easier than using the entire explanation.

  “Thank you for your service,” he says, and it sounds earnest. Real. To Emily, he adds, “I hope you’ve done your service by telling him upfront about the kind of girl you really are.”

  Emily’s once pink cheeks are now ghostly white, and I have an urge to punch this Alan character.

  “I think you better go on in and get your coffee,” I growl. “If you continue to upset the lady, I’m not going to be happy.”

  “It’s fine, Charlie. I’m not upset.”

  Except I can hear in her tight voice that she is very, very upset.

  “Let’s see what kind of white horse you ride in on when you find out she’s a liar. That she’ll open her legs to anyone who asks.”

  Well, I warned him. I pull my arm back and visualize how satisfying the crunch of Alan’s nose is going to sound when a grip from behind stops me from forward movement.

  “This one’s not worth your time, Sarge,” comes Jonesy’s steel voice. “Though I appreciate you looking out for my sister.” Carter steps in front of me and uses his body to steer Alan away from Emily. “Okay, Preacher Boy, it’s time for you to hit the road and take all your peace, love, and joy with you. You know, I’ve seen a lot of really messed up dudes, but I’ve never seen one as judgmental and hypocritical as you. Because it’s Christmas and I like your mom and dad so much, I’m not going to beat your pasty-white pansy-ass into the ground, but you talk to my sister again, and I won’t be so gracious.”

  Alan shakes his head in disgust. “You’re not helping her by defending her, you know. She needs to come clean with the—”

  I interrupt with a plea to Jonesy, “Please, man. Just let me hit him once.” I have no idea what this is even about, but I know for certain I hate this Alan person.

  “Please stop.” Jonesy and I both turn to the small voice. Emily’s eyes are rimmed with unshed tears. “Don’t ruin Christmas. Let’s just go.”

  We usher her past the asshole. And into the car. When we get back to the house, she pleads with us not to tell her mother, and she runs to her room.

  “What the hell was that all about?” I ask Jonesy as we move into the living room, the fireplace like a magnet even though it isn’t that cold outside and we’ve just come from a warm car.

  “Not my story to tell, Sarge.”

  “I bet I could beat it out of Alan.”

  At that, Jonesy smiles. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that. He’s a punk. I never liked him before, never thought he was good enough to date my sister, much less marry her.”

  “They were married?”

  “No. Look, it’s not my story.”

  I want to pull rank, but realize I can’t do that anymore. “He made it sound like she—”

  “My sister did nothing wrong. Don’t even go there.”

  “I wasn’t implying she did. I like your sister a lot. She’s a nice girl.”

  When Jonesy scowls at that, I’m not sure what I said that made it worse.

  Jonesy shakes his head and braces himself on the mantel. “Be careful about calling anyone a nice girl.”

  “Huh?” Last I heard, being nice was a compliment.

  “Look, sometimes people put expectations on people. Put them in boxes and only allow for certain things. When you call a girl a nice girl, it’s easy to forget she is human. Like the rest of us.” He scrubs a frustrated hand through his regulation short hair. “I’ve already said too much. Emily would kill me if she knew I was talking about her. But just know that “nice girls do” or “nice girls don’t” isn’t something we like in this house.”

  And then he storms out, leaving a very confused me and a crackling fire behind.

  Chapter Five

  Emily

  I WASN’T EXPECTING a late-night knock on my door, but I am even more surprised to find Charlie standing there with a bottle of whiskey and two snowmen mugs.

  “You were quiet at dinner,” he says. As if that explains his presence at midnight.

  “I’m quiet a lot.” He waits for me to...what...invite him in? Which I’m not sure I want to do. “It’s late.”

  “You don’t owe me anything, Emily, but I’d really like it if you told me what was going on with the asshole in front of the coffee shop today. I wanted to hit him. I still want to hit him.”

  “He’s not worth it.”

  “You’re right...but that’s not stopping you from letting him get to you.”

  I want to send him away, except I don’t. I lean my head against the door. “It doesn’t concern you.”

  “Actually, yeah, it does. I can’t stand the thought of that weasel hurting your feelings. And he’s going to keep doing it unless you stop giving him the power to.”

  That doesn’t explain why it concerns Charlie, but I don’t want to chance someone coming up on him in the hall, so I pull the door back and gesture him in.

  He whistles as he turns a circle in the c
enter of the room. “This is your room still?”

  I laugh, taking in my Justin Timberlake poster and horse trophies and pink bedspread. “I don’t live here anymore. I’m visiting just like you. But yeah...this was my room.”

  “This is actually kinda hot. I feel like I’m seventeen sneaking into a girl’s room. Better fantasy than even the hotel bar we met at in the kitchen last night.”

  I unfold my arms, knowing I look like some weak shrinking violet when I hug myself. “Well, you’re the only boy I’ve ever had in here.”

  Our gazes clash, and I feel his hunger. Hunger for me? Is it me or just the idea of sneaking into my teen room that has him hot and bothered? I grab a unicorn pillow off the bed and plop onto the floor, my back against the bed, the pillow in my lap. “I bet you were a bad boy sneaking into girls’ rooms all the time.”

  He joins me on the floor. “Maybe once or twice.” He pours us each a drink. “Was Alan your boyfriend in high school?”

  Well, he gets right to the point, doesn’t he? “Yes.”

  “But he never came in here?”

  I shake my head. “We didn’t...we didn’t have sex...not until prom.” I shudder thinking about the backseat of his parents’ car. “And then it was just the one time. We’d been saving ourselves for marriage, but we screwed up once.”

  “Is that how you see it? Screwing up?”

  “Alan is the son of a pastor. He wants to be one, too. It was important to him that we do things the right way.”

  “But not you.”

  I shake my head. “Not really. I’m not religious. When was your first time?”

  Charlie squares his jaw and looks into his cup like he is hoping the answer is in there. “I was younger.”

  “How much younger?” The longer we keep the focus on him, the better I feel. I wonder what he was like as a teen. Trouble probably. He has that vibe.

  “Probably too young. I don’t...it wasn’t great. I mean it was sex, so it was good, but the circumstances were less than ideal. I was too young. She was...I don’t really want to talk about this.”

  I snort. Not very ladylike, but whatever. “Oh, but it’s okay to talk about me and the weasel?”

  He swallows hard; his Adam’s apple bobs and I find it fascinating. “I lived in a foster home. A lot of different ones over the years. My guardian...she was lonely. I was thirteen.”

  All the blood leaches from my face in a cold rush. “Oh, God. Charlie...”

  “Like I said. Less than ideal.”

  The idea of someone taking advantage of a young boy like that infuriates me. But he didn’t come to me to rehash his own bad memories, so I change the subject. “It might surprise you to know that my experience with Alan was also less than ideal.”

  This time he snorts. “Not surprised really. He seems...”

  “He cried.”

  Charlie spits the whiskey in his mouth back into the cup. “What?”

  “He came, and then he cried. Told me we made a huge mistake. Wanted to pray right then and there for forgiveness. I had to push him off me.” Out of me. He’d still been inside me when the sobbing started.

  “So you didn’t...” The rest of the sentence is hanging in the air, unsaid but not unnoticed. So you didn’t come?

  Why this isn’t embarrassing, I don’t know. But talking to Charlie feels natural. “I didn’t. The tears were sort of a mood breaker.” Not that I was close anyway.

  “That’s not why he said those things to you today, is it?”

  “No. Are you sure you want to know all this?”

  “Are you sure you want to tell me?”

  “No,” I answer. “I’m sure I don’t want to. It’s sordid and embarrassing.”

  Charlie leans back, resting his head on the mattress behind us. “Did you cheat on him?”

  “No.”

  “Then why... why is he so bent out of shape?”

  Where to start? “I went to Florida for Spring Break with my cousin Sheila. She’s a lot wilder than I am. More free. She always has been. Alan asked me not to go to Florida with her, but it was my last single girl trip before the wedding—we’d planned a June wedding after college graduation. So I went against his wishes.” I never felt a sun like the Florida sun. So different from the Pacific Northwest. “One night, they were filming on the beach. We were curious, thinking maybe we could be extras in a movie or something. Turns out it was the crew for Wild and Crazy Girls and ...we flashed the camera our boobs in exchange for a trucker hat.” My face burns with shame. “It wasn’t even Sheila’s idea. It was mine. I wanted to do one thing that wasn’t expected before I got married. I don’t even know how to explain it.”

  A tattoo would have been so much easier.

  “I think that’s awesome. That’s not what this is about? Did Alan find out?”

  To hell with sipping, I chug down the whiskey, enjoying the burn as it hollows me out. “The weekend before the wedding, my bachelorette party crashed Alan’s bachelor party. It wasn’t like he would get a stripper or anything... we just figured a mixed party would be more fun. And it was. At first. We were all at the pub, and one of Alan’s roommates put in a movie.”

  “Oh shit.”

  “Yeah. Instead of hardcore porn, they popped in Wild and Crazy Girls, and Sheila and I shot each other some freaked out looks. I mean, it would be too coincidental, wouldn’t it?”

  “Oh, mistletoe, it sure should have been.”

  “But apparently, Alan had a subscription. He got a DVD every month. My entire family was there...my brothers, my cousins, my dad. Everything happened in slow motion. The hooting and hollering died down until the room was quiet as a tomb. Everyone turned to stare at Sheila and me. And then they turned their attention on Alan. He was furious. I’d never seen anyone so red. He just started spouting all these terrible things. Calling me names. Carter punched him once—he wanted to hit him more but my cousin the cop was also there, and he stopped him by threatening to take him to lockup. It was the worst night of my life, driving home with my father after that. But the next day wasn’t any better. Alan insisted that I was a slut. A whore. And he told anyone who would listen all about it.” I take a deep breath, pushing the pain back down as it balls up in my throat. “I held out hope that he would change his mind, but I finally canceled the wedding the day before we were supposed to get married.”

  “He’s lower than a weasel.”

  I shake my head. “No, he had every right to be mad.”

  “The hell he did.” Charlie’s voice is low, his words sounding menacing. “That piece of garbage had no right to call you names that night, and he certainly had no right to them today. What the hell? It was his DVD. If he thought it was okay to watch girls flash their tits, then it shouldn’t have made him mad that you did it. That’s a fucking double standard.”

  I shrug. “It’s different if it’s your girlfriend, I think.”

  “Girlfriend? Yeah, it’s different. You’re supposed to love them unconditionally, not judge them for having the same feelings you do. Plus, he was ready to marry you. You were supposed to be his whole world, his life. You don’t treat the best thing that ever happened to you like that.”

  My family told me the same thing, time and again. But it still feels raw. “You don’t think I’m a —”

  “No. I think you did something wild and crazy. I think you weren’t taken advantage of—you knew what you were doing and it was your choice and good for you. I think the man who said he loved you should have stood by you. And I think tits are amazing. Nothing to be ashamed about, mistletoe.”

  The way he keeps saying tits should offend me, but instead, mine are responding. Perking up as if he called them by name.

  I hug the pillow tighter over my tank top and change the subject. “It’s your turn. Tell me something about you.”

  “What do you want to know? My life is pretty boring.”

  “I doubt that. But I want to know something personal. I mean, I just laid out some pretty embarrassing st
uff. You need to give me something.”

  “Something besides my first time?”

  I nod.

  Charlie is quiet for what seems like a long time, but is probably only a minute. He starts and then stops. “Nah. It’s silly.”

  “Tell me.”

  His gaze goes soft, like the lights are on, but Charlie isn’t there for a minute. When he comes back, he says very quietly, “I’ve never been hugged.”

  Chapter Six

  Charlie

  I’VE NEVER SAID IT out loud.

  I never even gave it much thought.

  But now it’s out there and I can’t take it back and something squeezes around the emptiness where my heart is supposed to be.

  “It’s no big deal,” I add quickly. But not quickly enough to stop the wave of pity that flashes over her face. Not quickly enough to erase the crinkle between her eyes. “Really. I don’t even know why I said that.”

  “Charlie—”

  I pull away. “Do. Not. Pity me.”

  She picks up my hand. Hers are small and soft. Mine are weathered and tough, probably causing abrasions on her delicate skin. “I don’t pity you.”

  “Yes, you do. I can see it. You’re looking at me like I’m some kind of puppy you just found out in the rain. I don’t need to be saved.”

  “Of course, you don’t. You’re a good man.”

  I should get up. Leave her alone. Instead, I chuff out a breath and concentrate on the way her skin feels against my hand. “I’m just a man, mistletoe. Nothing particularly good about me.”

  She twines her fingers with mine. “I could go into the way you saved my brother’s life, but you would say you were just doing your job. I could mention that your job was serving your country and that you’ve been honored and decorated for merit and service, but you would probably just say the Army was the only thing open to you anyway. So, I’ll just ask you to tell me.”