Page 22 of Make You Mine This Christmas (Holly Ridge #2)

“So there is the potential for special treatment,” he says, his voice all innuendo.

I look around, and catch Jimmy watching us, but everyone else is hustling.

Jimmy rolls his eyes, but softens it with a smile before unplugging the computer and waving goodbye.

I know he’ll be up late cleaning the database, making sure the bright spots from today—the people we’re going to help—don’t get overshadowed by the tough cases.

“Only for the really good boys,” I say, my voice low and husky.

Austin salutes and saunters away. I can’t help but reflect on how good it feels to have someone to joke around with after a hard day like the one we had today.

To know I’m not going home by myself, even if I’m not quite sure what it is I’m going home to, means even more that it’s Austin I’m sharing it with.

And I plan to hold on to this feeling, for however long I have it.

* * *

“I know I’ve only been an elf for about two weeks, but I thought it would be more toy making and less exhausting,” Austin says, flopping onto the couch after we get back to his place.

“Home” he called it again as we were leaving.

It’s hard not to read too much into his words.

It is his home. Does he want me to view it as a place to call home too?

“Well, you know, even toy making can be grueling. After all, Ming-Ming expected a thousand Etch-A-Sketches a day,” I say, knowing he’ll get the reference immediately.

“Fuck, now I want to watch Elf, but considering we need to be back at the workshop in less than twelve hours, it’s probably not the responsible thing to do.”

“Rain check.” I roll my neck along the back of the couch to look at him.

“Snowball check,” he responds, mimicking my pose and giving me a happy look, not unlike the one he probably sees on my face.

“So, I guess we should go to bed then.” There’s a question, an invitation there, and I think back to my conversation with Grams this morning. Some combo of grandmotherly thoughts and bed tickles my memory . . .

“Fuck,” I exclaim, sitting straight up. “My sheets are still in the washer from this morning.”

“Oh, they are, are they?” Austin looks amused. “How convenient. Did you know I only have the one set of sheets for your bed?”

“Stop.” I laugh through my words. “This is actually your fault. I fell asleep with chocolate in my bed last night, which wouldn’t have happened without you bringing it to me.”

“So sorry for caring,” he says, and the mood sobers slightly. “Well, you can kick it on the couch until they finish, or . . .”

I try not to show my excitement. “Or?”

“I do know another place you could sleep,” he says. His look of one is resolve and certainty. What the hell happened during his conversation with Cole today?

“Do you now?” I respond. We sit in silence for a beat or two. “I’m going to need you to actually say it, Austin.”

“Come to bed, Brody.” He pushes off the couch and walks to the bathroom without looking back.

How can I refuse an offer like that?

I’m in my room getting ready for bed when he heads into to his room. After a quick trip of my own to the bathroom, I take a deep breath and head for his doorway.

The sight in front of me stops me in my tracks. Austin’s sitting up in bed, shirtless, his defined chest and abs on full display. The blankets are pooled around his lap, and a pair of glasses sit on his nose as he looks at his phone.

Squeaky floorboard strikes again and announces my presence. He looks up and meets my gaze.

“Glasses, really?” I ask, crossing the room and climbing into bed on the side he’s left empty for me. It seems easier to harp on the frames resting on his nose than think too hard about the fact I’m climbing back into bed with Austin Owens.

He smirks. “Do something for you?” He takes them off and sets them on the nightstand. “They’re for reading—my eyes are more tired at night, so I can get away without them most of the time.”

“I’ll speak on behalf of humankind to say we would be okay with it if you couldn’t.”

Austin laughs and leans toward me, cupping my face in his hand. He brings his lips to mine, and my eyes flutter shut. His lips are soft and tender, a kiss full of greeting and full of relief, like coming back home after a long time away.

He pulls away a few inches but keeps his hand on my face. “So,” he starts.

“So,” I respond, wondering if he feels the familiarity I do.

“I would like to formally accept your offer. Just sex. With our expiration date, I think it’s best.”

I wince at the honesty in his words, even though they were my idea. He smiles kindly, stroking my beard with his thumb.

“What do you think?” His eyes search mine.

“Before I can accept your acceptance”—I swallow past a lump in my throat—“I want to tell you why I’m not a lawyer anymore.”

He sits back. “Tonight?”

I nod. “It’s important to me you know everything before anything else happens between us.” I move my hand back and forth between us, like he could really think I was referring to anyone else.

“Okay, I’m listening.” He shifts slightly so his body is inclined toward mine, settling against his pillows.

“Need a cup of coffee? It’s a long story.” I laugh, nervous to share the story with someone who knew me before and someone I want to know me after.

He doesn’t respond, but reaches out and takes my hand, tangling my fingers with his. My focus stays there while I start talking.

“My entire life, I’d been on a course, a plan.

Pre-law in college, so I could get an idea of what type of law I wanted to practice, experience as a paralegal for a few years, and then law school.

Become a lawyer like my dad, and his dad before him, and his dad before him.

Only, no one else’s dad took the plan quite so seriously.

He and his mom had a falling out not long after I was born.

Looking back now, with the lens of some therapy, it’s pretty clear he projected his emotions from processing his hurt onto me and my future.

Dad never came out explicitly and said if I didn’t follow the plan, I could risk falling into the same fate of losing my family, but the implications were pretty clear.

“Me coming to Winterberry Glen at all was an adjustment of the plan. But Todd Johnson is one of the best in Mergers and Acquisitions to this day. Dad was thrilled, and even at twenty-four, his approval meant everything. Then came you. The brightest bright spot I never knew was missing. Dating went expressly against the plan. I know you think I couldn’t tell you were interested.

I tried to stay away. But I couldn’t. And then I made the biggest mistake of all. I fell in love with you.”

His hand squeezes mine. How he knows I need that grounding to go on, well, I shouldn’t be surprised by now. I squeeze back knowing this next part is going to be tough.

“Fast forward to the summer I’m supposed to leave for law school.

I’ve decided on MassU, we’re going to be able to make this work.

And then I get the news they’ve pulled my funding.

The plan dictates we’re supposed to be fully funded and not go into debt.

Everything coming so close to falling apart, it felt like life was getting back at me for trying to have it all.

The extended time before law school, you.

I had to give something up. Except it’s weeks before the semester is supposed to start and I’m out of options.

“I go for a Hail Mary. Looking back, that call may have been the beginning of the end of the plan, even though it would take another six years to fully leave it. I call my grandma. The same one my dad hasn’t spoken to in decades.

NYU reached out to me once they saw my name on the LSAT lists, so I knew she still had connections.

Turns out, connected is an understatement.

The Walkers have a conference room, a lecture hall, and a student lounge in the law school.

Grandma agrees to make a call, on one condition. ”

“What was it?” Austin asks. His attention hasn’t wavered in the slightest, even when I describe my cowardice in believing in the realness of what we had.

I laugh then. “Well, one of “the girls” at Gram’s DAR chapter had given her the scoop on a little show called Gilmore Girls.

Grandma decided to channel her inner Emily Gilmore and required my presence at weekly dinners in exchange for calling in this favor.

Too good a deal to pass up, I agreed and left for New York the next day.

” It’s my turn to squeeze his hand in apology.

He squeezes back, nodding for me to continue.

“Suddenly, the family matriarch I thought had cut us all off is the person I see most outside of law school other than the Starbucks barista on the way to campus. The one thing we don’t talk about is why my dad stopped talking to her, but we talked about anything and everything else.

She and grandpa met at NYU Law, you see—a part of the family history my dad conveniently left out.

Gramps died before I was born—around the time my dad blew up his relationship with his mom. ”

“Did she ever tell you what happened?”

I nod. “She did. I’ll get to that, I promise.

So, law school is over, I’m hired by a major firm, living and working in Manhattan, making disgusting amounts of money.

By all intents and purposes, the plan has been a rousing success .

. .” I trail off there, thinking about my mental state at the time.

The lowest I’ve ever been and hopefully the lowest I’ll ever be.

“But you weren’t happy?” Austin fills in the rest of the sentence. My response is a sad smile.

“Absolutely miserable. Barely eating or sleeping, working fourteen-hour days, having panic attacks in my office, avoiding Grams, because she put my dad on this same plan—what would she say if she saw how much I struggled, how I wasted the faith she had in me.”

“Oh, Brody,” he says, like I’m breaking his heart all over again.