Dinner had been perfect.
Ava had laughed until her face hurt, and Trig had touched her the entire meal. Sometimes he rested his foot against hers under the table, or rested his hand on her thigh, or put his arm around her shoulders and rubbed her arm with his thumb. Twice he leaned over and kissed her right on her temple like he couldn’t help himself. He’d turned her to utter mush by the time the tiramisu and the check came.
But when they left, he grew quiet, and she had this terrible feeling it had something to do with him looking over at that Christmas tree a block down. He turned away and pulled her hand back to the inside of his elbow and went quiet. The smile fell from his face as they walked toward where he’d parked.
No. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be when they were about to fool around in the truck. She was coming to realize Christmas really meant something to him. Where she’d clung to the bad memories of her dad leaving a few days before the holiday, Trig had dug his claws into the good memories and released the bad. And now she was going to ruin the rest of his Christmases. That hit her right in the chest.
She didn’t want to make Trigger unhappy. She wanted the opposite. She breathed for his smiles. Her heart soared with every laugh he gave her. The Trigger she’d known as a kid had been quiet and somber, and always, always serious. But with each passing day with her, he’d opened up, and she could see…see…his life turning around for the better. And she liked to think she was part of the reason for that. But right now, in this moment, as he walked beside her, silent and lost in his own thoughts, he reminded her of the Trigger she’d known as a child. She’d done that.
“Trig?” she asked softly.
“Yeah?” he asked, looking down at her. His smile didn’t even come close to reaching his eyes.
“I’m a little thirsty. And a little cold. I could use something to warm me up.”
He stopped walking and squared up to her. “Is this a joke about my dick warming you up?” he asked in the most confused tone she’d ever heard him use.
Well hell, she couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up the back of her throat. “No, for once, I’m not being a pervert. I mean, I could use some hot chocolate.”
Trig’s eyes lightened to a muddy gold, and his gaze flicked to the giant tree down the street, then back to her. And his slow, answering smile warmed her from the inside out, better than any hot chocolate ever could.
“Okay,” he murmured. When he leaned down, the scruff of his beard scratched her face as he kissed her. She cupped his cheeks and kept him for a few more seconds before she eased away.
A flicker of worry dashed though his eyes. “Does this mean no road head?”
Ava burst out laughing. “Who’s the pervert now?”
“Me. The answer was always me,” he muttered as he followed her toward the tree. “I’m serious. You didn’t answer my question.”
“Depends on how good this hot chocolate you’re about to buy me tastes.”
“Fine, I’m making a pit stop then.”
“To where?” she asked, frowning at him as she watched him jog across the street.
“To the Gut Shot. I’m getting us some whiskey to put in that drink.”
“What? Trig! We can’t take liquor out of the bar.”
“Woman, I’ve been arrested for way worse. The cops in this town ain’t looking for me to be spiking the hot chocolate. I haven’t murdered anyone all day. We’re good.”
“Well, okay then,” she muttered, jogging after him. That was one thing about her outlaw mate. She saw rules and minded them. Trig saw rules and squished them like bugs with his boot. Didn’t matter how happy he became with her, he would always do whatever he wanted, and Heaven help whoever stood in his way.
Her man stood at the door to the Gut Shot, holding it open for her like a gentleman, but when she nodded magnanimously and murmured, “Thank you,” as she meandered past, he slapped her ass hard enough that she squeaked. Good golly, he was perfect for her.
The devil was in his smile as he pressed his hand to her lower back and guided her toward the bar. The place was hoppin’ tonight. This was the local cougar clan’s hangout, and Eric, the bartender, slapped his hands on the countertop, threw his head back, and groaned rudely. “No, Hairpin!” he yelled, using the nickname the Clan had given Trigger for his temper and tendency to punish quickly for any slight done to himself or the people he cared about. “I just fixed the damn window from the last time you were in here.”
“I swear I won’t fight tonight,” Trigger said, throwing up his giant, tattooed hands in surrender. “We just need whiskey.”
The volume in the place had dropped from an eight to a two the moment they’d walked in, and while Trig was used to negative attention, Ava had always been uncomfortable under scrutiny like this. As she bounced on the balls of her feet, she looked around. The place was basically a biker bar, complete with motorcycle seats on the barstools. Nothing matched, but it all went together somehow from the checkered floors, to the beer-keg tables, to the old green countertops on the bar. The staff had strewn glittery snowflakes along the ceiling and hung strands of red sparkly boas from the rafters. There was even a pitiful, tiny Christmas tree in the corner that was missing most of its limbs. It was leaning at a forty-five-degree angle, and only had one ornament that looked suspiciously shaped like a large, sparkly penis, but it was festive enough.
“I like the holiday decorations,” Ava offered to break up the tension.
“Yeah, well, that makes one of us,” Eric muttered through a scowl. “Charlotte and Trina put them up. When I told them I was gonna take it down, Charlotte said she would stab my tires with a buck knife. I didn’t believe her, so I took all this shit down to get my man-card back, and that wildcat actually did stab my tires. Every damn one of them. And this, Hairpin, is why I ain’t even mad that you brought a breeder into Darby. Because women are poison, and Ava is gonna poison your stupid fuckin’ clan from the inside out. P. S. thanks for killing half my friends, you—”
“Whiskey!” Trig yelled, slamming his fist on the counter. The volume level in the room dipped to zero. In a cold, steady voice, Trig said, “I just want whiskey, not your life story, and if you call Ava a breeder again, you’re gonna join your Clan in Hell. And if you’re pissed about me killing your friends, maybe they should’ve stayed off my land and not tried to assassinate me and the people I protect. Four shots of the cheap stuff so we can leave.”
Eric started pouring the booze, but he kept running his mouth. “I know you’re hiding that traitor, Kurt. I know it. You’re askin’ for a second war, Hairpin. A second war, and this time we won’t come unprepared. If he thinks him and his cub are safe, he’s dead wrong. You don’t kill an alpha and survive the rest of the clan. You don’t turn your back on your people like that without paying with your life.”
Trig stared him right in the eyes and lied smooth-as-you-like without a single hitch to his voice. “Kurt left two weeks ago, and we ain’t seen him or heard from him since. Fuck off with your threats. And if he did ever decide to come back, you would have to come through me. Y’all didn’t manage it the first war with an entire damn clan. I wish you big luck coming into my territory and trying to hurt something that’s mine again. You’re lucky I’m not hunting every one of you down, one by one. Don’t think I haven’t obsessed over it either. The only thing keeping you alive right now is the lady you’re callin’ names. Best show Ava more respect.” Trigger offered Eric an empty smile, and his eyes blazed bright gold when he pointed to Ava. “You’re still breathing because of her.”
Ava had been busy eating handfuls of snacks from the nut bowl on the counter, and her mouth was full. When Trigger pointed, she froze, her head thrown back with a handful of peanuts ready to dump into her maw. Slowly, she tightened her fist around her food and gave Eric a bright smile. “I’m making Trigger not so murdery. You’re welcome.”
Eric frowned and yanked the bowl of nuts away from her. Rude. He replaced it with a Styrofoam cup of whiskey and jerked his chin at the exit. Whooo, his eyes were such a bright silver they were hard to look at.
“Happy holidays,” she said cheerfully as she followed Trigger toward the front door.
“I hate y’all,” Eric called.
“See you tomorrow,” Ava sang over her shoulder.
She definitely was not coming back tomorrow, but she felt like annoying Eric, because it sucked every single time she got called a breeder in this town. She and Trig were in love, not paired up in some emotionless match. It was a degrading term, and though she never showed anyone it hurt to be called that, inside it was like little slashes on her heart when that word was thrown at her.
“Fuckin’ breeder,” muttered some idiot with two beers in his hands as they passed.
With barely a hitch in his step, Trigger drew his massive fist back and slammed it into his face. Probably broke his nose from the definite crack she heard and the subsequent groans afterward. Her man was quick as a cobra strike, and furthermore, why did the people of this town not learn their lessons? He’d fought damn-near every one of them and won. Why did people keep testing him?
She hadn’t been a big fan of blood before coming back to Darby, had always grown nauseous when she saw it, but then the war had happened, and she’d seen and done things that changed that. She was in the Two Claws Clan now and mated to a man who didn’t take shit from anyone. Her life would probably be painted in red. She shook her head sympathetically at the village idiot who had tested Trigger. He was standing with his legs splayed, shock in his glowing eyes and both hands over his bleeding nose. “Maybe put an ice pack on it?” she said helpfully.
“You swore you weren’t gonna fight!” Eric yelled.
Trig was standing there holding the door open for her with one hand and the cup of whiskey with his other. Two of his knuckles were bleeding. Cool as you like, he said, “I lied.”
“Thank you,” Ava told Trig primly as she made her way through the exit.
Trigger gave her a sexy-boy wink and said, “Anytime.”
“Well,” she said cheerfully as she aimed her boots toward the giant Christmas tree, “at least you didn’t kill anyone.”
“Christmas miracle,” he muttered, shaking out his hand as they walked.
“This is actually fun!” she said, taking the cup of whiskey out of his hand to sip. “I haven’t even thought about work all night.”
Trig blew onto his closed fists, trying to warm them up, then wrapped his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “Good. Ava, you know you’re safe, right?”
“Yes. Why did that come up?”
“I just don’t like anyone from the Clan making threats in front of you. I don’t want you getting scared off.”
“I know it’s weird for a human to say, but I’m kind of getting used to the shifter stuff. You guys live by different rules.”
“Yeah, no rules.”
“Not true. You live by an honor code and go to blows when you are crossed. You don’t tattle or let offenses pass. You get pushed and you react, and then you move on.”
“Nobody in this town moves on. There will be a million of those little fights until the day I’m in the ground. I was fine with that before you came back to Darby, but now I wish it was different. I wish things were steadier, or that I was more accepted in this town for your sake. So you can go to the store without me tagging along like your watch dog.” He was getting serious again, and that was a party foul, so she took a healthy shot of whiskey, which felt like lava going down her throat, and then stopped at a vender in an elf costume selling Santa hats. She pulled one off the cart, took off Trigger’s cowboy hat, and then replaced it with the red number with the snowball on the top.
“Do I look fuckable?” he deadpanned.
“Gasp! We should dress like Santa and Mrs. Clause and diddle on a bed of cookies!”
“God, I love your brand of weird.”
“Thank you.” She pulled a headband with light-up reindeer antlers onto her head and gave Trig her most seductive look. Lowering her voice, she murmured, “Ride me, Santa.”
Trigger let off a single, bellowing belly laugh, and Ava turned to the vendor and asked, “How much for these two?”
The man answered, “I’m closing in five minutes and things are slowing down, so three bucks apiece and they’re yours.”
“Sweet.” Ava wrestled enough cash out of her wallet, handed it to the vendor, and then hesitated when he told her, “Merry Christmas.”
Clutching her twinkling antlers, she forced the words past her lips. “Merry Christmas,” and then she walked with Trig toward the tree. “I’m so Christmasy right now,” she said softly.
“You’re doing so good,” he complimented her.
The carolers were singing a slow song, and it was truly beautiful, so she stopped to watch them. It wasn’t ten seconds later that Trigger turned her in his arms and started slow dancing with her right there in the middle of the sidewalk with people around them. The Trigger from childhood wouldn’t have ever wanted that kind of attention, but Trigger, the man, didn’t care what people thought. Only what she thought, and this was so sweet, swaying back and forth to pretty acapella music, looking up into his gold eyes, absorbing that all-important smile that curved his lips. Her heart was beating hard and fast against her sternum, and when she melted against him and rested her cheek against his chest, she could hear his beating just as fast.
She still didn’t like Christmas. It still wasn’t her thing and never would be. But tonight was special.
Trig was happy, she was happy, and all was merry and bright in her little world.