Page 26 of I Choose You (Wilder #2)

She reached behind her and closed the door. Fuck, she was just trying to leave her house, and I was standing directly in front of her. I stepped back, reminding myself to breathe. I really wanted to adjust myself.

Gesturing for her to walk ahead of me, I followed behind her to my truck. Her ass had me so hypnotized I missed my opportunity to subtly make myself more comfortable. I opened the truck door for her, and as soon as it closed, I shook my head at myself and adjusted my dick.

My father’s house wasn’t too packed yet. My brothers were here with their families, as was Maeve’s brother, Jackson, and her mother, Josie. There was some history there, so I was glad to see that things were working out.

Sheila was working the room, offering drinks and appetizers to everyone who walked in.

“Merry Christmas, Sheila. You don’t have to serve everyone, you know,” I told her, embracing her with a hug. “This isn’t the diner.” Sheila owned and operated the Downtown Diner, but she wasn’t here as a server for the guests; she was here as family.

“Oh, I know. But I don’t mind. And Merry Christmas, Reid. Merry Christmas, Claire.”

“Merry Christmas, Sheila,” Claire said, offering Sheila a hug as well.

I left her to her own devices and led Claire into the kitchen, where food and drinks were laid out on every surface. My father was in there, helping himself to a plate when we walked in.

He smiled at Claire and met us at the table. “Claire. What a surprise. It’s good to see you again.”

“Hi, Charlie. I hope you don’t mind me invading your Christmas Eve. Reid assured me that it would be alright, so if it’s not, please feel free to blame him,” she joked.

“It’s more than alright. I’m happy you could join us. Reid, why don’t you go make your friend a drink? I’ll keep her company.”

I shot my father a warning look. Leaving Claire alone with anyone in my family was a risky move. My father was the best of the bunch, and I didn’t even like the idea of that.

“Claire, would you like a drink?” I asked.

“A glass of wine would be great, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” I pulled my hand off her back. I wasn’t even sure when I had put it there. I kept my eye on them as I poured us both drinks as quickly as I could.

“Here you are.” I handed Claire her glass of wine and turned to my father. “Why don’t you go stop your girlfriend from working out there?”

“I tried,” he sighed. “She told me she wants to. Shooed me away. That’s how I ended up in here in the first place.”

“How long have you two been together?” Claire asked.

My father’s face flushed. “About five months.” He scratched his chin sheepishly.

“It’s still new,” Claire crooned. “Well, that explains it.”

My father and I shared a glance, both clearly confused. Claire giggled. “She’s being the hostess, not the waitress. She’s probably excited to meet and talk to the guests as one of the family. Charlie, you should go stand with her. I bet she would love to greet people as a couple with you.”

“Beautiful, smart, insightful… I can only imagine patient,” he added, using his head to gesture to me with a laugh. “I think I’ll go do just that. It was a pleasure to see you, Claire. Please eat, drink, and be merry.”

We each made a plate of food and wandered through the house to find a seat.

“Keep your eyes peeled. First people to get up, we jump on those seats. Throw elbows if you need to,” I joked. About the elbow throws, not about claiming the seats. I was completely serious about that.

“You want me to steal someone’s seat?” Claire looked horrified.

I nodded my head, my lips twitching, trying to hold back a laugh. “Move your feet, lose your seat, love. Everyone knows the rules. If they get up, their seats are fair game.”

Christmas Eve at my father’s house was chaos.

It started the first Christmas after our mom died.

A bunch of my mother’s friends had come over, stopping by on the way to their own holiday parties, bringing dishes and desserts with them.

The next year, even more people stopped by.

By the third year, my father had prepared some food, expecting a small gathering.

We ended up with over a hundred people in and out of the house, eating and laughing.

People started staying for longer, making our house the party they were heading to, not the stop along the way. It had been like that ever since.

Kayleigh used to love our Christmas parties.

Fuck, where did that thought come from? I hadn’t thought about Kayleigh since… well, since Claire started circling my mind.

A couple of people had left their seats, either to mingle or get more food, so I led Claire over to the fold-out chairs they’d vacated.

“Are you okay?” Claire asked quietly. My lack of a poker face must have tipped her off that my head was elsewhere.

I nodded, but was I? I wished I hadn’t even thought of Kayleigh, but now that I had, I realized it didn’t hurt like I thought it would.

I thought she was my forever, my ride-or-die.

Instead, I was sitting at my family Christmas party without her, the first time in seven years that she didn’t attend it.

I looked around the room. Kayleigh would have loved the matching outfits some of the families were wearing.

She would have loved to gossip about the ugly sweaters, guessing who was wearing it for comedic purposes and who just liked ugly sweaters.

But those thoughts didn’t send me spinning in a race to the bottom anymore.

They were nothing more than memories of someone I used to know.

Wyatt and Wes were sitting across from us, talking and laughing like everyone else. Claire laughed at something they said, the sound of it pulling me from my thoughts.

Claire.

I watched her while she smiled and laughed and charmed my brothers—Wes may not have been related by blood, but he was still a brother to me.

“Cartoons today are so fucking strange. I just want to put on some classic Rugrats , and instead, I have these annoying-as-fuck songs on repeat. I’ve tried to tell Maeve that she’s too young to pay attention to these shows, but she insists on playing them for hours,” Wyatt complained jokingly.

“You’re probably too young to even remember the good cartoons. ”

“How old do you think I am?” Claire wheezed out through her laughter.

“I don’t know, maybe like twenty…”

“No. He’s not answering that,” Wes interrupted Wyatt. “Jesus, man, when am I going to stop having to save your ass? Answering the age question… fucking amateur,” Wes grumbled, shaking his head and running his hand down his beard, probably trying to make sure there was no food stuck in it.

“I’m thirty-two, basically an old maid. I’m not a kid, like this guy.” Claire pointed her thumb at me. Sure, I was younger than Claire. And Wyatt and Wes. But I wasn’t that young.

“What is age, anyway? We’re all adults here,” I said.

“Sure, just some of us have been adults for a lot longer,” she teased.

“A little longer,” I corrected.

Wyatt’s eyes bounced between us, his annoying smirk pulling at his mouth, so I let the conversation drop.

Claire’s empty plate was on her lap, so I collected it so I could throw it out with mine.

Her dress was so short in the sitting position that my hand brushed across her thigh.

Claire was fidgeting with the hem of her dress, pulling it down, adjusting herself in her chair.

I looked around the room, wondering if anyone else had noticed.

Wyatt was looking at her face as he talked to her, thank fuck.

Wes was buried in his food. My gaze continued to sweep the room.

One of Luke’s cop buddies was checking her out.

And not very subtly. My chest rumbled as I stared him down, willing him to move his eyes from her to me.

I leaned back and threw my arm across the back of Claire’s chair.

That caught his attention. He met my eyes and then quickly looked away.

Why did it matter if some guy was checking her out?

She wasn’t mine. Did she want guys checking her out?

Wyatt was watching me, a wide grin across his face. I pulled my arm back from around Claire and got up to throw the plates out. “Don’t let anyone steal that seat,” I told her.

She smiled up at me, eyes shining. “Move your feet, lose your seat.” She shrugged. My lips tipped up at the corners.

I threw out the plates, then tracked down a blanket that Claire could use to cover her lap.

With the blanket and two new drinks in hand, I retook my seat and handed her a glass of wine.

I wanted to throw the blanket across her lap, cover her up so no one else would be able to see her so exposed, but it wasn’t my call.

“Here. If you want it.” I handed her the blanket, giving her the choice to either use it or not.

Claire didn’t take it from me right away. She looked at my outstretched hand with the blanket, then to my face, bouncing between them back and forth.

“You just looked a little uncomfortable, fiddling around with your dress. Use it, don’t use it. Up to you.” Just as I was about to put it down under my chair, she reached out and took it from me.

“Thank you.” Her voice was soft, filled was sincerity and gratitude. Did she still think of me as that dick who was rude to her when she got to town? She seemed so surprised, and it wasn’t even a big deal. It was a blanket, for Christ’s sake.

I was unreasonably glad she took it from me though.