That term of endearment wouldn’t stop playing over and over in Emma’s ears, which meant she couldn’t stop spontaneously grinning. Or maybe the giddiness was from the two orgasms and the amazing sex. Or waking up in a man’s arms on Christmas morning.
Emma freshened up and put on a pair of fleece leggings and one of her favorite long sweaters. The super-soft red cashmere had been a gift from her grandmother three years ago. And even if that hadn’t been true, Emma would’ve adored the sweater anyway for its asymmetrical hem and loose cowl neck.
In the kitchen, Emma put on some coffee while she debated breakfast. The fact that he either didn’t eat breakfast or only ate an apple explained a lot about how lean he was, hard muscle over visible bone. As tall as he was, he could’ve probably picked up a good twenty pounds and still looked thin.
Still debating, she had another idea for Caine, and assembled a little tin of Christmas cookies for him that she slipped into the top of his gift bag.
Finally, she settled on pancakes because she could use her oversized cookie cutters to form the batter into shapes. She mixed the batter and heated the griddle pan, then gave the big snowman-shaped cutter a light dusting of non-stick cooking spray and got the first pancake underway.
Her gaze went to the clock on the stove. It was a little after eight. Definitely late enough that Alison would be awake, but maybe not late enough that they’d be done with their present-opening bonanza. Emma didn’t want to disturb that, but she also needed to decide what to do about dinner. Would it be too weird to bring Caine over? Would he even want to go? Would he think Emma should leave her house at all amid everything that was going on? Heck, did he have Christmas plans of his own to get to?
Emma flipped the first pancake, smiling to see that she’d done a decent job using the cookie cutter. She adjusted the heat for the next one, another snowman.
Even more interesting was another reaction stirring inside her—part of her wanted to stay in this bubble with Caine and see where things might go between them. Well, go beyond sex. Though she was definitely open to more of that, too.
By the time she heard Caine’s boots stomping against her back porch, she had a plate full of snowmen, Santa heads, snowflakes, and Christmas trees. The keys she’d given him turned in the lock, and then Caine was back, red-nosed and grim-faced.
Emma’s shoulders fell. “What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. Everything looks clear.”
Chewy raced happily to his dish, where his breakfast was already waiting.
“Oh. Really?” She searched his expression.
“Really.” He came and pulled her into his arms. “Smells good in here.”
She smiled. “I made festive pancakes.”
“Are there any other kind?” he deadpanned.
That made her laugh. “Good point. I suppose all pancakes are, on some fundamental level, at least a little festive.” She handed him the stacked-high plate. “Take that to the table for me?”
He nodded and did as she asked, and she collected everything else they needed—butter, syrup, silverware, napkins.
“Mind if I grab some coffee?” he asked.
“Nope,” she said with a little smile.
“You have some yet?” he asked, eyebrow arched. She shook her head. “How do you take it?”
Her smile grew, at first because he’d thought to ask. And then, because the potential for innuendo was too good to pass up. “Any way you give it.”
“Keep that up and the pancakes will be ice cold by the time I’m done with you.”
Emma’s smile grew wider and her pulse spiked. “Two milk, two sugar,” she said.
A moment later, they settled at the table together and dug into the sweet, fluffy hotcakes. She smiled to herself when he made quick work of two and took a third.
“So, I wanted to ask you if you had plans for the day,” she asked. “Somewhere you need to be later?”
He shook his head. “Some of the guys get together for Christmas dinner at the clubhouse, but I don’t always go.”
“Why not? If they’re like your family?” She took a long sip of her coffee. He’d made it perfectly.
He tilted his head and met her waiting gaze. “I guess for so many years the day reminded me of things I’d lost or would never have, and now I just shy away from it rather than face those reminders.”
It was a far more brutally honest answer than she’d expected, and her heart tripped into a sprint as goosebumps raced down her neck. All she could do was nod.
“You have plans for today?” he asked as if he hadn’t just shone a light on part of the wounds inside him for her.
“I’m going to text my friend and cancel them,” she said, deciding in that very instant what to do about Alison’s dinner. Emma wasn’t to be her only guest anyway. Alison’s big family numbered more than twenty when everyone came. Her bestie would understand. “I’d like to spend the day with you.”
He gave a nod, though his gaze didn’t quite meet hers, but she would’ve sworn she saw a little smile play around those full lips. “You gonna eat that last snowflake?” he asked, pointing at the nearly empty platter with his fork.
“Nope. That snowflake has your name all over it,” she said, really freaking satisfied to see him enjoying what she’d made. Not that pancakes were any big deal, but it seemed like the fact that he was eating a real meal might’ve been.
“I bet you’re a real good teacher,” he said, drizzling syrup on each of the arms of the snowflake.
She pressed a hand to her chest, where an odd, warm pressure seemed to fill the space around her heart. “Why’s that?”
“Because you make even the littlest things special.”
“I try,” she said, moved far beyond those words. The minute he finished the pancake, she grinned. “Ready for a little surprise?”
He gave her a skeptical look again. “Sure.”
She laughed. “Come on, then. It’s time for presents.” He rose slowly, and she took him by the hand. She grabbed her laptop off the dining room table as they passed it by, and then she led him to the blanket again.
“Emma, I don’t have…” He shook his head, discomfort so plain on his face it made her ache.
She kissed him and stroked her hand from his cheek into his hair. “You already gave me you, silly. Your time, your protection, your company. Without you, I’d be completely alone in this. So you gave me exactly what I needed.”
She thought his eyes couldn’t blaze at her more, and then she handed him his gift.
“What’s this?” he asked, his voice near to a whisper.
She set a new chew toy in front of Chewy, and then she pulled a present in front of herself. “Our presents,” she said, grinning. “Santa left one for each of us.”
“Emma—”
“Trust me, it’s just something little.” She gestured for him to open it.
Finally, he pulled the tissue from the bag, then lifted out its contents—the tin of cookies and six-pack of bottled orange soda.
“I wanted you to have something to open,” she said. “And I thought that you could take a little taste of me home with you.”
His brow furrowed as he stared at the things on the floor in front of him. He swallowed thickly, and finally nodded. “Thank you,” he said, finally lifting his gaze. Were his eyes glassy?
The possibility that she was really seeing what she thought she was made her heart hurt. Because none of the reasons that she could imagine for why such a hastily thrown-together present would affect him so much were good. “Okay, my turn,” she said, pulling her wrapped package to her. “When my grandmother died, I started two new traditions. This one’s kinda silly, but it gives me something to look forward to.”
“Tell me,” he said.
She smoothed her hands over the colorful paper. “Early in the year, I find something I really want, something that’s kind of a splurge. And then I save money from each paycheck until I can afford it. Then I wrap it up and give it to myself for Christmas.”
He looked at her like she was maybe a little crazy. “What did you get?”
Grinning, she pressed the metallic green bow to the side of her hair and then tore open the paper, shreds going everywhere, until finally her new baby was revealed before her. “A new MacBook. Fifteen-inch screen. With all the bells and whistles. My current laptop is more than three years old and freezes up all the time.” She hugged the box awkwardly to her chest. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long.” She laughed. But at twenty-five hundred dollars, it was a big deal to have finally gotten this for herself. “I know, I’m a huge dork.”
Just watching her, Caine shook his head.
“I have one more present to give. Want to help me?” she asked, setting up her old laptop atop the box for her new one.
“How could I help?”
Her fingers moved over the keyboard as she pulled up the three websites. “I put away part of every paycheck throughout the year so that I can make a Christmas Day donation to a local charity. I usually try to pick something that has to do with kids, but it’s so hard to choose. What do you think?”
She clicked through the three sites, and Caine leaned in to view them with her. One foundation worked to help children of working-class families that made too much for government assistance but too little to fully provide for their kids. Emma saw this with many of her children at school, kids whose families didn’t have enough money for school supplies or new backpacks or even new shoes to fit growing feet. The second organization was a center and shelter dedicated to helping LGBTQ homeless youths, who were disproportionately likely to face homelessness and, once they ended up on the street, experienced greater levels of violence than other youths. And the third organization was the county’s CASA program, which assigned court-appointed special advocates for abused and neglected children who otherwise might be lost in the over-burdened child welfare system. Emma had worked with a few volunteers from this program over the years, and knew they did good work.
“I have a little over three thousand dollars saved,” she said, turning to him. “What do you—”
His eyes were brimming with unshed tears. And his effort to restrain them highlighted every sharp angle on his face.
“Caine?”
“Don’t,” he rasped, his eyelids closing like he was in pain. A single tear streaked from the corner of one eye.
“I’m going to hug you,” she whispered.
“Emma,” he said, his voice like it’d been scoured with sandpaper. He dropped his head into his hands.
Slowly, she crawled so that she knelt behind him. She came in close, her thighs around his hips, her arms around his stomach, her head laying on his broad back. She felt the hard outline of the holstered gun against her belly, but she didn’t care. “I’m here now, Caine. Okay?”
He didn’t answer for a long time. And she wasn’t surprised, given how hard he worked to rein in the emotion trying to break free. She felt his effort in the clenching of his stomach muscles, in the shudders wracking through his back, in the unevenness of his breathing. In the end, Emma wasn’t at all sure whether it was better that he’d fought it back, or if it would’ve been better if he’d let it out. Whatever it was.
Finally, he threaded his fingers through hers against his chest. “Do you still want my opinion?” he asked, his voice raw.
She stroked the back of his hair, noticing up close for the first time that black tattoos filled in the two most noticeable places near his hairline where scars kept his hair from growing. “Absolutely.”
“They’re all kids, so of course they’re all worthy. The Ravens work with CASA a lot so I know they’re good people. But, the LGBTQ homeless shelter. That would be my vote.”
It was personal to him, that much was clear. And that was all she needed to know. “That’s who we’ll give to, then.”
“We?”
“Yes, Caine. We.”
He heaved a breath. “Don’t you want to know why?”
“Very much,” she said, because she wanted to know everything about this man. “But only if you want to tell me.”
He didn’t respond. There were only so many reasons an organization like that might mean so much to him. Either someone he cared about could’ve benefitted from the services they offered and maybe hadn’t had the opportunity. Or he could’ve benefitted from their services himself. And if that was true, did that mean he was bi? Or another identity altogether?
She reached out, tugged her laptop closer, and pecked all her information into the donation form with one hand while she continued embracing him with the other. “The fun part is hitting the Submit button. That’s all you.”
He peered over his shoulder at her, like he was trying to see if she was for real. She nodded, and he clicked the button. The confirmation page came up with a row of kids’ beautiful smiling faces.
“You give good presents, Emma Kerry,” he finally said. How was it that he thought he wasn’t sweet again?
She smiled where she leaned against his back. “I just like trying to make people happy.”
“What other traditions do you have?” he asked, turning toward her.
“Christmas movie marathon with copious amounts of cookies and chocolate-drizzled popcorn as snacks.”
He peered up, and Jesus he was so freaking gorgeous to her. “Got any funny Christmas movies?”
She grinned. “So many funny ones. Just you wait and see.”
And if that’s what it took to make Caine happy, it was only the beginning of what she would do.