Beneath the Scars (Masters of the Shadowlands #13)(83)

It’d been a very nice day.

Oma’d invited two women to their holiday dinner. One was a widow from Oma’s bridge club, and the other was a divorcee whose ex had the children for the day. The poor woman.

The two guests had been delightful, even showing up early to help prepare dinner. Carson had been on his best behavior, peeling the potatoes and running errands.

Her boy was feeling better these days. He’d sure had fun last Sunday, watching football with the crew over at Holt’s. When they’d all come over afterward, well, she’d never laughed so hard in her life. Men had the oddest perspectives on life. And Holt kept the conversation hopping. The man could quite simply talk about anything. No one stayed a stranger around Holt.

Despite her good intentions, she wasn’t managing to stay a stranger either. It was as if when they’d had sex, he’d awakened her sleeping desires. Now she wanted him with every cell in her body. She wanted to touch him, to hear his voice, breathe in his scent.

He’d driven her crazy last night during church.

Yesterday, when Holt had checked Oma’s blood pressure—something he’d been doing frequently since he moved in—Oma had ordered him to join them for Christmas Eve service. Admitting he hadn’t been to church in years, he’d thanked Oma for including him.

During the service, he’d captured Josie’s hand and refused to release it, despite her tugging. Taking it a step further, he’d put his arm along the back of the pew so his hand rested on her shoulders.

And kissed her forehead when she frowned at him.

He wasn’t just a man, but a Dominant, as well. A determined, unshakable one.

Why did that simply melt all her resolve?

Shaking her head, Josie stuffed the wrapping paper into the recycle bin. The Christmas tree certainly looked bare without presents beneath it.

It’d sure been fun to open those presents. Her great-aunt had been delighted with her new eReader. Quite a few members of Oma’s book club had embraced the technology, especially loving the ability to increase the font size.

Carson had loved his presents, which was a relief. He sure was more difficult to shop for the older he got. Who knew how much she’d miss buying cute stuffed animals and toy trucks? Now it was Xbox games and music. And soccer shoes.

However, getting a cell phone had totally made his day. She foresaw many future arguments about its usage. Still, all that mattered was that he could now call for help if he got in trouble.

After the service last night, she’d given Holt his present. Last Sunday, the men and teens had argued over their favorite cookies. She’d memorized Holt’s choices, done a cookie-baking marathon, and filled an oversized Christmas tin for him.

He’d opened the tin right then and there to sample the contents—and realized it held his favorites. His stunned expression had been worth all the time in the kitchen.

The gifts hadn’t been one-sided. This morning, Carson had found presents from Holt on the doorstep.

Josie grinned. He’d given her boy a Lego starship model. Score. Carson had already started building it.

Her present had been a gorgeous leather notebook, colored pens, and a mug that said, I WRITE. WHAT’S YOUR SUPERPOWER?

When she’d opened it, Carson told her Holt’d read her books and thought they were great. She’d come very close to crying. The Dom liked her stories—and gave her presents for a writer.

Poor Holt was working today. He said that since he didn’t have children who’d be crushed if he wasn’t home, he preferred to work so nurses with families could have the day off. God, Holt. She’d never seen anyone who would appreciate a family more.

While she’d been unwrapping presents, singing carols, enjoying a big Christmas feast and socializing, he’d been caring for children who were so ill they were in ICU. He’d spent Christmas stuck in a cold, sterile building.

Feeling tears prickle her eyes, she went into her office and looked out the window. His lights were on. He was home. Damned if he shouldn’t have a bit of Christmas, too.

After piling a plate with baked ham, cheesy potatoes, and various side dishes, she tapped on Carson’s door. “Hey, you. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“’Kay, Mom.”

At Holt’s, she rang the doorbell.

And waited.

She’d turned to go home when the door opened. “Josie?” He stood in the doorway, hair wet and shoved out of his face. Jeans zipped up, yet unbuttoned. No shirt.

She’d never thought she’d be the type to drool about a man’s chest. Dark blond hair, golden tan. And muscles so hard and ripped that her mouth went dry. Her fingers quivered with the urge to touch.

Instead, she held up the covered plate. “I…brought you some Christmas dinner. Since you couldn’t come.”

“Did you now?” His lips curved in a pleased smile. “I’m starving. The unit was crazy, and I never did get a break. I was about to open the cookie tin—and I’m not going to tell you how many of those I already ate last night.” He took the plate from her, closed his hand around hers, and pulled her into his living room.

“No, I didn’t come—”

“You’ll keep me company while I eat, won’t you?” His hard arm around her waist didn’t relax at all. Every breath brought her his clean, just-out-of-a-shower scent.