Amber let out a satisfied sigh and rolled off of Will. “Well, Happy December 27th.”

His laugh was deep and throaty. “Happy December 27th to you, too. Is it a day for celebration?”

Closing her eyes, she stretched like a cat in the sun with a belly full of cream. “No, but I’d say what we just did right there was pretty celebratory.”

He rolled over onto his side to face her. “Oh yeah?” His husky whisper kissed the skin on her face, and she felt an inner grin grow from how happy it made her.

“Mhmm.”

“So,” Will started, “how are you getting back to Seattle? Seeing as your brother dropped you off here?”

Amber opened her eyes. “I dunno. I guess I planned to hitch a ride with Daisy. My truck is in the shop. Some lame-ass buffoon backed an excavator into the back of it on a job site.”

“Lame-ass indeed,” he said, followed by a yawn. “Well, you could always come back with me.”

Her smile faltered. “Really?”

He lifted one chiseled shoulder, the sheet slipping further down his body and exposing those delicious lines that ran diagonally across both hips. She licked her lips and swallowed.

“Why not? We both live in Seattle, makes sense.”

She nodded. “Okay . . . thanks.”

“No problem.”

Pursing her lips, she let her eyes fall down to the small empty space between them on the bed, the need to ask him something itching at the nape of her neck. But she was nervous. Despite the fact that the man had just been balls-deep inside her and made her come harder and more often than any man she’d ever been with, she still didn’t know him that well. How would he take her question?

“Uh . . . ”

Will lifted one eyebrow in an oddly sexual way. “What’s up?”

“How . . . How come you’re . . . Why . . . ?”

Do it like a Band-Aid, woman!

She cleared her throat and started over. “Why aren’t you pulling your weight around here?”

He sat up straight, his back against the headboard. The sheet fell even further down his body, revealing the light dusting of hair on his pubic bone. “Excuse me?”

She swallowed. Shit, that had come out all wrong. “Well . . . ” Fuck, she was the boss at work, why was she cowering under his intense gaze? She never cowered, and she wasn’t going to do it now. Exhaling, she started, “Well, Rowan and Juney take care of the meals. Austin brings in the firewood and takes care of the fire. He also shovels the driveway and front stoop. Hunter and I do the dishes, tidy up and sweep the floors, put on laundry, et cetera. What do you do?”

“Has everyone been talking about me?” he asked, the tenor of his deep voice clipped and defensive. His glare fell on her.

She shook her head. “No. Not everyone. It’s more of a joke than anything. Will’s the big boss man, but he doesn’t do much.”

“I never asked to be ‘the big boss man,’ ” he snapped.

Amber sat up against the headboard, but instead of letting the sheet slip down her body, she pulled it up across her chest and tucked it under her arms. “I know you didn’t. But somehow you’ve become the leader. You’re the oldest, the biggest, the one who screams alpha-boss-man the moment you walk into a room. It’s hard not to defer to you. And that’s coming from me, who is also a big boss.”

A muscle ticked along his square jaw. “So everyone is making fun of me and calling me a freeloader, then?”

She shook her head. “No. No one is saying that. I’m simply curious why you’re not pitching in. You pour us all a scotch, pour yourself several, and that’s it. I don’t even think Hunter or Juney drink scotch. They always go back to wine. But you’ve never bothered to ask anyone what they drink.”

“You think I’m an alcoholic?” His tone was starting to alarm her, and Amber, who had never been one who shied away from confrontation, found herself shifting an inch or two away from him.

“No. I never said that.”

“Fine. I won’t have another drink for the rest of the trip. Just to prove to you I’m not an alcoholic.”

She had to stop herself from snorting. They left tomorrow at noon. He didn’t have to abstain for long.

“My job is stressful,” he went on. “I’m always on call, so I’m not allowed to drink. So, on the off chance I get a few days to myself, I like to indulge. Is that such a crime?”

She shook her head again. “I never said you had a problem. You’re taking this way, way out of context here.” She sighed. Crap, this had turned south fast. “Forget I even said anything, okay? Let’s just go to bed.” She went to turn out the light.

Will’s brows narrowed; he swung his legs over the bed. “Yeah, well, you’re not perfect either. You’re a fucking emotionless robot. Would it kill you to take a brick down from your wall once in a while? Have an emotion? Have a feeling? God, if I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought you were a fucking dude . . . or a psychopath or something.” He pulled his white boxer briefs on and made a “humph” sound. “Jury’s still out on that last one, I guess. I’m staying in my own room.” With that, he opened the door and left, leaving Amber sitting up in bed, her eyes wide and her mouth wider, staring at the closed door in awe while a lone tear slowly slipped down her cheek.

Will couldn’t sleep. He was furious. How dare she call him a freeloader. He was anything but. He worked his ass off for the greater good. He saved lives. He worked twenty-four-hour and forty-eight-hour shifts, often not sleeping more than a few hours the entire time. He was the antithesis of a fucking freeloader. This just proved it, Christmas was terrible.

Pacing back and forth in his room, he ran his fingers over his head, wanting to scream, but knowing he couldn’t or else he might wake up the house. He needed a drink. He wanted a drink. But he’d just promised Amber he wouldn’t touch a drop, and he was going to keep that promise. He wasn’t an alcoholic, he simply enjoyed good scotch.

Deciding he would eat his feelings instead, he stalked down the dark hallway to the kitchen. There had to be a bag of chips around here somewhere. He’d already devoured his Christmas present chips from Amber. Those hadn’t lasted twenty-four hours. Only when he turned the corner, he found another soul eating their feelings as well.

“Hey,” Hunter said, reaching into a drawer and pulling out another spoon. She passed it to Will. She took a big scoop out of the tub of Rocky Road before handing it over to him. “What’s eating you?” She licked the spoon provocatively. Was she doing it sexily on purpose? Or was that just how she ate ice cream, like a porn star?

“Am I freeloader?” he asked, putting the full spoon in his mouth.

“Yup!” She nodded.

He gaped at her. “I . . . I’m sorry.” Suddenly, all his built-up heaps of self-righteousness came thundering down, sending him into a smothering avalanche of doubt. That wasn’t at all the response he was expecting. Was he really that big of a freeloader?

She lifted a shoulder cavalierly. “No biggie. None of us really care. It’s more funny is all. Why? Did someone say something?”

“Amber.”

“What did she say?” She accepted the tub back and took another big spoonful.

“She asked why I’m not pulling my weight, why I’m not pitching in.”

“And?”

He went to open his mouth, but nothing besides air came out.

“Why aren’t you pitching in?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it. I don’t know.” He took the tub back from her and scooped out more ice cream.

“Let me ask you this,” she started. “Do you do your own cooking, laundry, cleaning, grocery shopping at home? Do you mow your own lawn? Shovel your own driveway?”

Holy shit.

No. He didn’t. Slowly, reluctantly, shamefully, he shook his head. “No. I have a housekeeper who does most of those things, and I live in a high rise.”

Hunter nodded, and a yawn followed. “Hmm.”

“Hmm?”

“And what about your childhood?”

“Well, Dr. Freud,” he said snidely. “My father left us when I was eight. He was a doctor as well. He’s been through a slew of wives and is pretty much just a womanizing jackass. I was essentially raised by a single mother.”

“And did your mother do everything for you?” She took another sexy lick of her ice cream. Will could only imagine that if Austin were here right now, he would be having fifty fits about how erotically Hunter was behaving. That boy had fallen hard for the cute little blonde, and his jealousy with any attention she received from either Rowan or Will was palpable.

“Yes.”

“Why is that?”

“Fuck, do you want me to go lie on the couch over there? Stare at some ink blots, so you can figure out I’m secretly in love with my mother and want to kill my father?”

She cocked an eyebrow and asked, “Are you? Do you?” before sensuously licking the spoon.

He scratched the back of his neck.

“Why did your mother do everything? Why did you let her do everything?”

“Jesus Christ!” He sighed, scrubbing his whiskery chin and fighting the urge to stomp his foot. “Fuck, I don’t know. Because she wanted to. Because she felt guilty, and she spoiled me, doted on me. I was a genius in school, so she let me get away with pretty much murder as long as I promised to get good grades and go to college. Which I did. And now that I’m loaded, I take care of her. I’m not a complete asshole, you know.”

She took the ice cream tub back from him. “I never said you were. I don’t think anyone said you were.”

“Yeah, well, apparently everyone thinks I am.”

She shook her head slowly, her blonde hair shimmying around her narrow shoulders. She was cute, damn cute, with a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks and a cute little button nose. He could definitely see why Austin was mad for the girl. But Will was attracted to Amber’s strength. He didn’t doubt Hunter was a ballbuster and strong, you’d pretty much have to be given her childhood, and had Amber not caught his eye, he definitely would have made a move on Hunter. Tiny blondes had become one of his favorite flavors. But this new flavor, ginger and spice, was throwing him for a loop and rocking his world. And now he just went and called her a psychopath. Fuck!

“No one thinks you’re an asshole,” Hunter said. “You’re just used to being taken care of. Used to going to work, saving lives and then coming home and not having to worry about dusting or sweeping or doing laundry.”

He shrugged. She’d hit the nail on the head.

“Nothing wrong with that. But here, here you need to pitch in. We’re not your mother, and we’re not your hired hand. So, tomorrow, make the freaking coffee, okay?”

He looked down at his feet. She was definitely a ballbuster. She probably ruled her little empire with an iron-plated, hemp-infused fist. He nodded. “I . . . I think I messed up.”

“Yeah? What did you say to Amber?”

“How did you know?”

“You’re not in her room screwing her brains out. Call it a lucky guess.”

He huffed. “I called her an emotionless robot and a psychopath.”

Hunter’s eyes went wide. “Yeah, dude, you’re in the doghouse.”

“No shit.” Truth was Will knew there was more to Amber. He knew she had a big heart and a sweet side. He’d noticed it from the very beginning. Not to mention she was the little Christmas pixie hanging mistletoe up everywhere. Yeah, she was a sweetheart all right, and he was a bonehead who’s gone and screwed everything up by calling her a psychopath. Fuck!

“You know she’s the boss of like twenty guys, right?” Hunter said, snapping him out of his reverie.

He nodded and took back the ice cream. There was only enough for two more bites. “So?”

“So, women aren’t allowed to have emotions and feelings when we’re the boss. And especially not when we’re in charge of men. They won’t take us seriously, will question every decision and say we’re only allowed to make executive decisions twenty-five days of the month. Because the other five we’re irrational, bleeding nut jobs.”

Will’s jaw dropped. Hunter scoffed. She took the last bite of ice cream before wandering over to the sink to rinse out the tub. “You want some tea or something?” she asked.

“Sure, but I can make it.” He brushed past her and reached for the kettle out of the top cupboard.

A smile tickled her lips. “You know she’s got three older brothers too, right?”

“Yeah.” He hip-checked her out of the way so he could fill the kettle at the sink.

“And she’s a tomboy. And she’s the boss at a construction company. Where on earth has she ever been allowed to be emotional or show her feelings? She’s been trying to be ‘one of the boys’ since she was practically a baby.”

“She’s told you all of this?”

She shook her head. “No. Not all of it. A lot of it I just discerned from her behavior and what she’s told all of us. We’ve chatted here and there. She, Juney and I talked a fair bit on the walk back to the cabin last night when you and Rowan were carrying Austin. She said that even though she loves her job, she doesn’t always enjoy having to be the boss, especially to men.”

“You know, I don’t have any siblings, but you’d be a pretty cool little sister,” Will said with a chuckle, plugging in the kettle and then bringing down two mugs from the cabinet. “I mean, you’re cute, but you’re not my type.” That was a big ol’ lie, but for some reason he felt like he needed to say it.

“You’re not my type, either. The chip on your shoulder can be seen from outer space. No thanks! And what the hell is with your hatred for Christmas? I could never be with someone who hates Christmas.”

Well, that stung. But it was the truth. Just like Amber, Will had an enormous chip on his shoulder. And that chip had gotten in the way and ruined a lot of relationships. Relationships that probably would have lasted if he wasn’t such a selfish prick.

His lip twitched as he turned around to face her again. “Yeah, it is pretty big, isn’t it?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Ah, well, shitty things just seem to keep happening to me on Christmas. My dad left, my wife left. I don’t exactly have the fondest of memories when it comes to this particular holiday.”

She rolled her eyes. “And you think I do?”

Crap, he’d done it again. Here he was complaining about his dad leaving when Hunter didn’t even know who her dad was. She’d revealed that tidbit a few nights ago. At least Will could put a face and name to his “sperm donor.”

He was about to say something, even though he wasn’t quite sure what, when she cut him off. “I’m not looking for your pity. I had a fine childhood, better than most who ended up in the system. All I’m saying is, you’re a bit of a Debbie Downer being all anti-Christmas, and all because not every single one of your thirty-seven Christmases were chock full of kittens in fuzzy hats and people singing carols around a baby grand piano. Get over yourself, doc. It’s exactly like your Christmas cracker said, ‘not every flat stone is going to skip the same distance.’ Not every Christmas is going to kick ass. Some are going to kick your ass. Just because I’ve had the odd crappy boyfriend, do you think that means I should write off men completely? Three shitty relationships mean that all men are shitty and I should become a nun or start dating women?”

He crossed his arms in front of his chest and shook his head. “No.”

“You’ve kind of sucked this week, being all anti-Christmas the whole time.”

“But what about Amber?” he started to say. “She’s anti-Christmas too, and you’re not harping on her.”

She tucked her hair behind her ears and gave him a look that reminded him an awful lot of Juney. It was motherly. It was annoyed. It was preparing to lecture. “We’re not talking about her right now. We’re talking about you. And she’s not anti-Christmas, she’s feigning disinterest, if you haven’t noticed. You can’t look at a snow globe the way she looked at the one you gave her and not like Christmas. Hell, I’d go as far to say the woman probably loves it. But that’s a whole different kettle of fish that I’m not interested in getting into right now. You can sort that out with her yourself. But you, you’re being an ass. You were an ass to her, and you’ve been behaving like an ass all week. Stop being an ass.”

His lips twisted before he spoke. “You said I wasn’t being an ass.”

She shot him another Juney-esc look. “I believe I said you weren’t being an ass hole. But you’re most definitely an ass. As in jackass.”

He looked down at his feet. “You’re right.”

She shrugged. “I know. I might not have a fancy college degree or a bunch of letters behind my name, but I’m no dumb bunny.”

“I never said you were.”

“Humph.”

He needed to change the subject. Things were getting heated, and the last thing he needed was two women in the house out for his blood. “So, what brings you out here at this hour? You and the leader of Mensa get into a fight or something?”

She shook her head. “No, nothing like that. How many women do you think he’s slept with?”

“Who? Austin?”

She nodded.

Will shook his head. “No clue. He’s decent enough looking, really smart, probably up in the high teens or twenties or thirties.”

Hunter shook her head again. “That’s what I had thought too. But his number’s not very high. Not as high as I would have thought, anyway.”

“All long-term relationships?”

“Nope. He was a prodigy. Skipped grades, started college early. Says he was always the kid, and that made him socially awkward. He was intimidated by me, or at least that’s what he says. That’s why it took him forever to make a move. And in the end I was the one who made the first move.”

Will had to hand it to the guy, that was pretty brave admitting something like that. Most men, Will included, would have simply shut down or feigned some other excuse. Admitting intimidation was admitting fault, admitting weakness. But it was also brave to do it.

“Was he intimidated by your number?”

“No. He has no idea of my number. I didn’t disclose that. Not yet anyway. He was intimidated by the fact that I own the Curiously Kinky at home romance party company and that I’m loaded and successful. He didn’t think he would be enough for me . . . in bed or in life.”

“Was he?”

A wicked glint shone in Hunter’s bright amber eyes. “And then some.” She moved over to the drawer that housed all the tins of tea and opened it. “I mean we haven’t done anything kinky yet, but so far the man has been a freaking sex savant. And he said he’s willing to try stuff, that he’s curious. But he’s not the first guy to run once he finds out what I do. I should never have said anything the other day.”

“Then tell him that. Tell him you really like him, and that you’re willing to teach and go slow. And if he’s as smart as he claims to be, he won’t run. You’re quite the little package.”

Averting her gaze, Hunter ran her fingers along the tins of tea, while her cheeks flushed from his compliment. Will poured the steaming kettle into two green mugs, and then Hunter dropped a couple of chamomile teabags into the water. Picking up her mug, she wandered over to sit in the living room. He followed her.

Snatching her favorite blanket off the back of the couch, Hunter curled up on the couch and tucked her legs under her. Cradling her mug in both hands, she pressed the rim against her lips and inhaled. “Do you think Daisy’s algorithm was correct with Austin and I?” she finally asked.

“Yes, I do.” He sat across from her on the other end of the couch, his eyes focusing on the reflection of the beautiful tree in the big picture window. “You guys are a lot alike.”

“We are?” Curiosity stole over her face.

“You don’t see it?”

Her lips scrunched, and she looked down into her mug, lightly shaking her head. “I thought maybe at first we were. But I’m not so sure anymore.”

“You’re both lost. Have reached the top and don’t know where to go now. Or at least, that’s how I see it. More you than Austin. But with Austin I see a lost little puppy who grew up way too fast because of his big brain, but he really doesn’t know the real world. Hasn’t done any traveling or had any wild experiences. And I’m guessing based on your life, you were forced to grow up faster than normal, too. No?”

She set her mug on the high table behind the couch, her jaw dropping as the flush of pink continued to travel up her neck and cheeks and into her hairline.

“Hit the nail on the head, didn’t I?”

“Uh, yeah. I’ve always been mature for my age. And I hitchhiked and backpacked all across the states as a teenager, but I haven’t really been anywhere else in the world. I want to travel. I want to travel so badly. And Austin hasn’t been out of the country, either.”

“You’re lost.”

Hunter continued to nod. “Totally. Lost and blocked. I mentioned earlier I haven’t had a new design or business idea in ages. That’s not normal for me.”

“Then go travel. Find yourself, find your passion and drive again. Hell, go travel together. And, if things go south, then part ways. I took a semester off years ago and went backpacking with a college girlfriend. We broke up on the trip, but you meet loads of other travelers. You just glom on to a new group and travel with them.”

She made a rather unladylike noise in her throat before she put her lips to her mug again, blowing on the steam. “You broke up? Well, that gives me all kinds of hope.”

He shook his head dismissively and blew on his own tea before gingerly taking a sip. He hadn’t realized until that moment that he was wearing nothing but white boxer briefs. His eyes fell down to his lap and then quickly darted around the room, looking for a blanket. Hunter picked up on his vibe and snatched another cashmere throw from the back of the couch and tossed it to him.

“I’m not interested, just so you know.” She laughed.

“I’m cold.”

“Sure. Why’d you and your college girlfriend break up?”

“We broke up because we finally had the kids talk. She wanted them, and I didn’t. Still don’t. And neither of us planned on changing our minds, so we didn’t see the need to continue on with the charade as if we did. We broke up in Laos. She went on to Vietnam, and I went to Malaysia.”

“You make it sound so businesslike.”

He shrugged. “Kind of was.”

“So, what, you think Austin and I should sit down with the tablet tomorrow and plan a trip to Southeast Asia together, having known one another for all of four days?”

“People have done stranger and wilder things.”

She was quiet for a moment. Was she mulling it over? He certainly hoped so. Backpacking had been one of best decisions Will had ever made. Seeing the world, experiencing new cultures, meeting new people. He wasn’t always the broody, overworked man he was now. He used to know how to have fun, how to party.

“Yeah, maybe,” she finally said, rolling her bottom lip between her teeth.

“And as far as the kinky shit goes,” he went on, bobbing his eyebrows up and down a few times. That earned him an eye roll and a half-smile. “Just talk to Austin. Most guys, most normal guys are into experimenting and getting a little raunchy. And tell him he’s enough . . . if you think he is. Show him he’s enough. Hell, I’ve tied up, been tied up, spanked and been spanked. Though I definitely prefer to be the one doing the tying up and spanking. But, there is something sexy about a woman who likes to be on top once in a while. Power is hot.”

Hunter laughed. A creak in the floorboards behind them had them both turning around and looking down the dark hallway.

Amber stood there at the front of the hall, her body cast into a shadow by the dim nightlight that illuminated the narrow corridor. Her petite, fit frame was slow and hesitant as she padded barefoot toward them.

She came to stand next to him where he sat on the couch, her eyes taking in the scene of him sitting happy and carefree, drinking tea with Hunter. He could practically see her hackles start to rise.

He swallowed. “Hi.”

“W-what’s going on?” she asked. God, the woman looked tinier than ever. Her strength, confidence and big personality ordinarily lent Amber a commanding presence that made up for her lack of height. But at the moment she seemed smaller and more fragile than ever. And it was because of Will.

He made a strangled noise in his throat while Hunter made to get up off the couch, draining her tea in the process.

“We were just having some chamomile tea, as neither of us could sleep. And Will here pretty much convinced me to ask Austin to go backpacking with me for a few months. I think I’m going to go do that now. Whip out the tablet, close my eyes and whatever country my finger lands on . . . that’s where we’re headed.” With that, Hunter took her mug to the sink, then made her way back down the hall.

Amber strolled past him toward the big window. The moon was out and practically full, and it made the gully of snow-quilted trees shiny and shimmer like diamonds. It was eerily beautiful, serene but also deadly quiet and lonesome-looking. She stood in front of the window looking down into the forest, her arms wrapped around her body as she trembled slightly from the chill that swept through the house.

Will got up, and in less than five strides he was behind her, draping the blanket over her shoulders. “I’m sorry for what I said. You’re not an emotionless robot or a psychopath. And I am a freeloader, you’re right. I’m also an asshole.”

She didn’t move or say anything.

“I—I’m used to being in charge,” he went on, not waiting for her to reply. “And I’m used to being taken care of. Nurses and hospital staff at work, a housekeeper at home, and my mother when I was a kid. Besides a scalpel or a pencil, I rarely have to lift a finger. But I’m going to do better. I promise.”

She still didn’t say anything.

“And . . . and you’re not a robot. I get that coming from a family of brothers, and with the job you have, you can’t really express your feelings. You’ve been forced to bottle everything up, because you have to. But you know, with me, you can let your guard down. You can remove some bricks.”

Finally, she moved and spun around to face him. There were tears in her eyes, and a few rogue drops trickled down her cheeks. Will’s chest tightened and, at that moment, he vowed to never be the cause of her pain again. He never wanted to be the reason Amber cried.

He brought his hands up to cradle her face and used his thumbs to sweep away the tears. She looked up at him, big soulful hazel eyes blinking behind unshed tears. Her lip trembled slightly. She swallowed, then crumbled against him, her whole body suddenly shaking with pent-up emotion that was finally being set free. And Will only held her.

Several long minutes later, she lifted her head from his chest, using the blanket to wipe her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be.”

“I—I don’t even know what I’m crying about.”

“Not getting that doll you wanted when you were seven? You’ve kept things bottled up for a while, haven’t you?”

With a small snort, she ran the back of her wrist beneath her nose and nodded. “Yeah, I guess it’s been a while. But no, I never played with dolls. I liked tool sets and trains. I was all about the Legos.”

He tilted her chin up with his finger. “I really like you, Amber. And I don’t want to fuck this up. It’s been a while since I found a woman who challenged me the way you do. Wants the same things I do. Who’s strong and powerful and doesn’t take shit from anyone, even me.”

“I—I like you too.”

“I want to see where this goes. I want to date you when we get back to Seattle. Properly. Go out for dinner. The movies, a Seahawks game.”

Her eyes went wide, and she nodded. “I love the Seahawks.”

“See, you’re perfect for me. No other woman has ever gone starry-eyed when I mentioned going to a football game.”

She grinned. “I’d much rather cuddle up under a blanket at CenturyLink Field and watch the Hawks beat the Packers than go to a basket-weaving class or a couples paint night.” Letting the blanket slip to the floor, she stood up on her tippy-toes and nipped his chin. Her arms drifted up to rest on his shoulders. She pressed her lithe body against his. His reaction to her closeness pressed hard and eager against her hip. “I forgive you. Call it a . . . Christmas miracle.” She traced his bottom lip with her tongue and pushed her pelvis against his.

A low, primal growl rolled through Will’s chest as the smell of Amber, the feel and heat of her enveloped him. This woman had him under her spell, and there was no turning back.

Fuck.

He’d never cared about anyone’s feelings as much as he did Amber’s. His heart physically ached knowing he was the reason there were tears in her eyes. And yet, here she was, forgiving him. It truly was a Christmas miracle, and certainly not one he was going to take for granted.

He wanted to ravish her, take her in his arms and apologize properly. But a bigger part of him wanted to know the woman he was falling for. Help her take down those bricks, tear down the wall she so carefully put up around herself, and let him in. Gently he put his hands on her shoulders and held her away from him.

“Tell me something that makes or made you happy. And then tell me something that makes or made you sad. I want to know you, Amber. I want you to feel comfortable enough to be yourself with me. I want to feel your emotions right along with you. Tell me.”

She released a big exhale. “Something that makes me happy . . . well, I love Christmas. Like seriously love it. Obsessed is probably a better word. It’s my favorite time of year. I love everything about it. The music, the cheer, the togetherness, the gifts, the tree, the cookies. I love it all. And you’re the first person I’ve ever told that to. And I thought we were a match, but you . . . you hate it so much, and . . . ” she trailed off. A hiccup snagged in her throat as more emotions threatened to bubble up.

He shook his head. “Why do you feel you can’t tell people you like a holiday?”

“Because it shows weakness and vulnerability.”

“It shows that you’re human, and for the record, I don’t hate Christmas. In fact, I’d say I might actually like Christmas, that is, if you’ll give me another chance?”

She nodded and smiled, but no light, no happiness flickered in her eyes. She wasn’t convinced of anything yet. “Something that makes me sad,” she hummed. “Well, I know that I don’t want children, but I also actually can’t have them.”

His eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything.

“I had cervical cancer a few years ago. Not from HPV, if that’s what you’re wondering. Just good old-fashioned cervical cancer. They removed the cancerous spots, but based on a few things the doctors said after I recovered, they don’t believe I’ll ever be able to conceive, even if I want to.”

Will’s pulse thumped wildly in his throat. “And that made you sad?”

She nodded solemnly. “I’ve never wanted children. Not ever. But for a long time I thought that would change when I met the right guy, things would just click, you know? But I’ve always been content with my choice. Because it was my choice. But to have that choice taken away from me, for Mother Nature to say to me that I can’t have a child . . . it didn’t sit well. It was as if one day, if my feelings ever switched, Mother Nature had already decided that I was unfit to be a parent and took that from me. I was angry for a while. And then sad. Now I’m indifferent about it, because I don’t want children. But . . . ”

“But you still want it to be because you choose not to.”

More tears welled up in those big, beautiful eyes. “Yeah.” An awkward laugh simmered up from her chest as she used the hem of her T-shirt to wipe away her tears. “I’m sorry.”

Will brought her chin up with his knuckle so they were eye to eye again. “Don’t be. I asked. I want to know you. Thank you for letting me in. Telling me more about yourself. I really appreciate it.”

She exhaled again, her shoulder slumping as her chest shook. “Thank you. I needed that.”

His head dipped to the crook of her neck, and he bit her gently. “I can be whatever you need. I want to be what you need. I know I’ve only known you for four days, but when it’s right, time doesn’t really matter. You’re my match.”

She looked up at him. “Make love to me, Will,” she whispered, her hands traveling down his torso and cupping him. “That’s what I need.”

With a low growl, his hand circled around her waist, and he drove her backward until her back was pressed up against the cool glass of the window. She leaped up onto his hips and pulled his mouth up to hers. They were suddenly all teeth and tongues, hands and frantic, driven passion. It was a good thing Amber was in no more than an oversized T-shirt and had neglected underwear, because in seconds Will’s cock was drawn through the front hole of his boxers and probing her core.

“I—I don’t have a condom on me,” she said, breathlessly.

He grunted and then muttered “fuck” under his breath.

“I’m clean . . .  and I can’t—” Her words caught in her throat.

He wanted her more than anything. Wanted only her. He could trust her with the truth. She trusted him with her truth. “I’ve had a vasectomy, and I’m clean.”

She paused and looked him square in the eyes. “Holy shit, you weren’t kidding when you said you don’t want kids.”

Will grew very serious and met her stare. “No, I wasn’t. I don’t want children. Ever.”

She swallowed, and fresh tears welled up in her eyes. “Me either.”

Finally, someone just like him. Someone who understood. If he ever married again, he would be the best damn uncle in the world, but he didn’t want to be a father, and Amber didn’t want to be a mother. Fuck Mother Nature. This was their choice and one they both agreed on.

Smiling at him, she sank her hips down until he was buried balls-deep inside her, squeezing her muscles the whole way, feeling every hard, thick, vein-roped inch of him.

“Oh God,” he groaned, his hands coming up under her shirt and cupping her butt as he surged forward and began to pound her into the glass.

Amber’s head tilted back as Will’s teeth ran along her jaw and down her throat, grazing her, nipping her, marking her. She moaned softly. He loved it. Loved claiming her, branding her. Loved knowing that tomorrow she would have bite marks and tiny bruises from his savage passion. The thought of it, of seeing those marks on her creamy white skin, just turned him on more and made him ram into her harder.

His teeth clamped down on her shoulder. He gave one hard, bone-crushing thrust into her against the cool, unforgiving glass, and she let go. Will continued to pump, seeking his own release but loving how uninhibited his Little Red was. The way she came was beautiful. Her lips parted, her eyes shut, and a soft peachy heat crept up into her freckled cheeks.

“Yes . . . more,” she said with a sigh, clawing at his back.

His whole body raged hot and wild, like gasoline on a bonfire. He snarled against her skin, stilled, dug his fingers into the plump flesh of her ass and detonated. He went up in a beautiful, enormous flame of glory. Every nerve ending, every cell, every synapse fired as the orgasm soared through him. She tensed around him again and cried out as another climax tore her apart.

Yes. Yes, Little Red. All your orgasms are mine.

She squeezed her hot, tight little pussy around his throbbing shaft as he came. He bucked into her a few more times, hitting her clit with his public bone and getting her deep inside, and when she finally sighed and opened her eyes, Will knew right then and there he’d finally found his other half. Christmas, of all holidays, had finally brought him peace, his match, and happiness.

They stood under the light of the Christmas tree for several moments. The sound of their heavy breathing and beating hearts was the only noise in the quiet living room. Slowly, he set her down on her bare feet. He spied a box of tissues on the side table and snatched a few, then crouched down and cleaned her up. When he stood back up, his smile placid and carefree, his eyes drifted up over her head.

“When did you put this one up?” he asked with a soft laugh, reaching up and batting the hanging mistletoe.

Her gaze followed his, and a sweet little O formed on her mouth. “It’s not mine,” she said matter-of-factly. “Mine are all real. This one is plastic.”

A warm flash of goosebumps chased across Will’s sweat-kissed skin at the idea of Christmas magic. Did it really exist? Were there elves or unexplainable things of wonder happening, bringing all these lost and wounded hearts together? Amber caught his look of awe and smiled. She linked her hand with his.

“Christmas magic,” she said sweetly, “it really does exist.”

Perhaps it does. It—or crazy Daisy— brought me you.

“Come on, my little red elf,” he said, scooping her up. “As much fun as sex against a window is, I’m just as happy screwing you in a bed. One more and then we’ll call it a night.” And with that, he stalked off toward the bedroom, the two of them giggling softly as Will softly hummed “Jingle Bells.”