Read Online Christmas With You by Tracey Alvarez - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tracey Alvarez
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this. I don’t want to rush this. I like the anticipation.”
Carly placed her hand on top of his, flattening his palm against the warm skin of her throat. “You weren’t the kid who tore the house apart looking for Christmas presents, then?”
“Carly Gatlin, were you that kid?”
She nodded. “Yes, I was that kid.”
“Well, it explains a lot.” He sat up, held out a hand to help her upright. “How about we anticipate some more while you demonstrate proper gift-wrapping techniques—since mine evidently suck?”
She took his hand and let him tug her into a sitting position. She crawled away with a smile and retrieved the roll of paper. “You kiss better than you wrap. A lot better.”
As she brandished the scissors and un-wrapped his masterpiece, explaining where he’d screwed up, Kip nodded in all the right places.
Whatever his decision, he needed to make it fast. This intense spark of attraction between them meant that, at some point in the not-distant-future, he’d have the opportunity to make love to her. And unlike an unwanted Christmas gift you could take back to the store, there’d be no returns or refund offered if he gave Carly his body, and by accident, his heart.
Chapter 5
“You,” Carly said the next morning as she climbed into the ute Kip had borrowed from Ford. “Are a piece of work. You owe me big time.”
Kip—all freshly showered and yummy in blue jeans and a tight grey tee shirt—sat in the driver’s seat, one tanned forearm resting on the window frame, a breeze ruffling his still-damp hair. “Anything you want, sweetheart. Name it.”
She poked her tongue out at him, even as a pleasurable shiver worked its way up her spine. Memories of her dreams the night before crowded into her head. Dreams of a sexy Santa who just happened to look like Kip—minus the beard, minus the red suit, minus every stitch of clothing except for a Santa hat.
Inappropriate, considering how she’d agreed to spend the morning.
The ute’s back door opened, and two giggling five year olds tumbled inside. Carly swiveled in the passenger seat as Lizzie ducked her head inside the back, her expression harried.
“Thank you so much for agreeing to help, Carl—Lucas, I said sit your butt in the booster, not your head.” Lizzie rolled her eyes and grimaced. “Sorry. I’m really grateful you’re going to tag-team with Kip.”
“We’ll have fun picking out a tree.” Carly smiled. “You enjoy some time off.”
Time off translated to an hour to wrap and hide the presents Lizzie had mailed to Stewart Island earlier that month so the boys wouldn’t spot them in their luggage. Poor Lizzie needed five minutes to herself—the biggest argument Kip had used to convince Carly to come with them this morning.
“We’re going to find the best tree.” Logan smiled shyly at her from his booster seat. The quieter twin had figured out what end of his body was for sitting.
“Yeah, the biggest, most coolest, most awesome-est tree ever.” Logan’s bare legs flicked up and down with impatience, as Lizzie tightened the restraints on his booster seat.
“Be good. Remember the Santa satellite,” Lizzie said.
“We will,” they chorused as she blew both boys a kiss and shut the truck door.
“Santa satellite?” Kip keyed the engine to life, and they rolled down the driveway. “That’s kinda creepy.”
“My dad used to tell me Santa had elves plant spy cameras around our house to make sure I was being good,” she said quietly, pitching her voice under the twins’ vigorous rendition of Jingle Bells. “Worked like a charm while I was in the house.”
“And out of it?”
Kip turned onto the main road, the sun sparking flashes of light off the ocean.
“I went a little feral for the first few years after my mom died.”
Kip’s gaze flicked to the rear mirror, but the boys were occupied with singing and sorting through the little bags of snacks Lizzie provided.
“You were young when she died?” he
Carly placed her hand on top of his, flattening his palm against the warm skin of her throat. “You weren’t the kid who tore the house apart looking for Christmas presents, then?”
“Carly Gatlin, were you that kid?”
She nodded. “Yes, I was that kid.”
“Well, it explains a lot.” He sat up, held out a hand to help her upright. “How about we anticipate some more while you demonstrate proper gift-wrapping techniques—since mine evidently suck?”
She took his hand and let him tug her into a sitting position. She crawled away with a smile and retrieved the roll of paper. “You kiss better than you wrap. A lot better.”
As she brandished the scissors and un-wrapped his masterpiece, explaining where he’d screwed up, Kip nodded in all the right places.
Whatever his decision, he needed to make it fast. This intense spark of attraction between them meant that, at some point in the not-distant-future, he’d have the opportunity to make love to her. And unlike an unwanted Christmas gift you could take back to the store, there’d be no returns or refund offered if he gave Carly his body, and by accident, his heart.
Chapter 5
“You,” Carly said the next morning as she climbed into the ute Kip had borrowed from Ford. “Are a piece of work. You owe me big time.”
Kip—all freshly showered and yummy in blue jeans and a tight grey tee shirt—sat in the driver’s seat, one tanned forearm resting on the window frame, a breeze ruffling his still-damp hair. “Anything you want, sweetheart. Name it.”
She poked her tongue out at him, even as a pleasurable shiver worked its way up her spine. Memories of her dreams the night before crowded into her head. Dreams of a sexy Santa who just happened to look like Kip—minus the beard, minus the red suit, minus every stitch of clothing except for a Santa hat.
Inappropriate, considering how she’d agreed to spend the morning.
The ute’s back door opened, and two giggling five year olds tumbled inside. Carly swiveled in the passenger seat as Lizzie ducked her head inside the back, her expression harried.
“Thank you so much for agreeing to help, Carl—Lucas, I said sit your butt in the booster, not your head.” Lizzie rolled her eyes and grimaced. “Sorry. I’m really grateful you’re going to tag-team with Kip.”
“We’ll have fun picking out a tree.” Carly smiled. “You enjoy some time off.”
Time off translated to an hour to wrap and hide the presents Lizzie had mailed to Stewart Island earlier that month so the boys wouldn’t spot them in their luggage. Poor Lizzie needed five minutes to herself—the biggest argument Kip had used to convince Carly to come with them this morning.
“We’re going to find the best tree.” Logan smiled shyly at her from his booster seat. The quieter twin had figured out what end of his body was for sitting.
“Yeah, the biggest, most coolest, most awesome-est tree ever.” Logan’s bare legs flicked up and down with impatience, as Lizzie tightened the restraints on his booster seat.
“Be good. Remember the Santa satellite,” Lizzie said.
“We will,” they chorused as she blew both boys a kiss and shut the truck door.
“Santa satellite?” Kip keyed the engine to life, and they rolled down the driveway. “That’s kinda creepy.”
“My dad used to tell me Santa had elves plant spy cameras around our house to make sure I was being good,” she said quietly, pitching her voice under the twins’ vigorous rendition of Jingle Bells. “Worked like a charm while I was in the house.”
“And out of it?”
Kip turned onto the main road, the sun sparking flashes of light off the ocean.
“I went a little feral for the first few years after my mom died.”
Kip’s gaze flicked to the rear mirror, but the boys were occupied with singing and sorting through the little bags of snacks Lizzie provided.
“You were young when she died?” he
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