Snug In His Bed Read online

  He smiled and the relief that clung to that grin made her ache for him. He gestured to her gift. “Open it.”

  She hesitated. “I have something for you, too, but I haven’t wrapped it yet. Can we go inside for a minute?”

  “Sure.”

  Hammeringly aware that he was right behind her, Viv hurried into her bedroom, moved a displeased Geraldine from the wrapping paper still on the bed from where she’d tended to the gifts she’d taken to her mother’s earlier and snagged a small, empty box. She wrote a note, then placed it inside and quickly wrapped it up.

  She found Hank in her living room, admiring the new picture of her and Brody she’d put on the mantle. “You favor,” he said.

  Viv grinned. “I think so too. I wanted him to know that he’s important to me.”

  Hank turned to look at her. The twinkling lights cast his face in a warm, festive glow. “Oh, I think he knows that.”

  Then there was only one person who didn’t know how she felt about them, but that was about to change. She handed Hank her “gift.”

  “Here,” she said. “It’s not much, but...”

  Hank passed her the envelope. “Let’s open them at the same time.”

  She swallowed tightly. “Sure.”

  Using her fingernail, she carefully opened the envelope and withdrew a stack of papers. It took a full two seconds for her brain to catch up with her eyes and when it did she gasped. “London,” she said breathlessly. She looked up just in time to see him read the note she’d placed in the box.

  “Your heart?” he said, his voice thick.

  “It’s not mine anymore,” Viv told him. “I just gave it to you.”

  He smiled then and cleared his throat. “Thank you,” he said. “It’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

  Viv rattled the papers significantly. “This is too much,” she said. “I can’t let you do this.”

  Hank sidled forward and wrapped his around her waist. “I knew you’d say that, but it’s done. Booked, ticketed, ready to go.”

  “Hank, I don’t know what to say. I--“

  “Brody told me about your car. I knew you wouldn’t go. You and that damned shoe,” he said. “We’re not waiting on shoes to drop anymore, babe, and if they do, I’ll be there to pick it up when it falls.” His gaze searched hers. “I love you, Viv.”

  A lump of emotion swelled in her throat and she leaned forward and kissed his jaw. “I love you, too, Hank.”

  He drew back. “Besides, there’s a catch to your trip, you know?”

  “Oh, really? What?”

  “If you look closely you’ll notice that you’re traveling with a guest.”

  She chuckled softly. “Oh, really? And who would that be?”

  “Me.” He lifted her off the floor, then kissed her until she couldn’t breathe and didn’t want to.

  Viv smiled against his lips. “Ho, ho, ho,” she murmured. “Merry Christmas.”

  EPILOGUE

  “I honestly don’t know what we’re going to do with you, Damon,” his brother droned on and on. Post season and Santa was soaking his feet, sipping hot cocoa.

  Damon blew a smoke ring and smiled even though he was once again on the braided rug, being upbraided for his bad behavior. Pity being bad was so much fun. There was no way in hell he’d ever be able to give it up. Besides, his Christmas had been a happy one, with unexpected results. “You incite Christmas light wars between two neighbors, you sneak sex toys into a fire department toy drive, you--“

  “It was a toy drive,” he said, blinking innocently. “I happen to like sex toys. You and the missus should give them a try.”

  His brother released an annoyed sigh. “Children’s toys,” Big Red emphasized. “It was a children’s toy drive.”

  “Why should those snotty little brats have all the fun?” Damon asked. “The adults foot the bill for the occasion. What’s the harm in a little sexual gratification at Christmas?” He chuckled darkly. “Trust me, that chick needed that dildo.”

  “Your evil plan backfired when she actually fell in love, didn’t it? All of them, Damon. Every last one of them, even that poor girl you sentenced to the Christmas tree farm found her other half.” His brother’s shrewd gaze bored into his. “Didn’t plan on those people having happy endings, did you?”

  Actually, no. He’d wanted to wreak havoc and discord and thought it would be fun to wind them up and watch them bounce off one another--not literally, of course. He wasn’t a voyeur. He’d thought at best they’d all get some great sex for Christmas.

  But Big Red was right--each and every one of them had fallen in love. And to his intense surprise, he actually felt...good about that. Pleased even. It wasn’t as fun as handing out condoms at FAO Schwartz, but it would do in a pinch.

  As a matter of fact, he thought he’d make a yearly habit of this. Steal the list and match up those do-gooders with the do-don’t’s. Hell, he might even end up giving the fat boy with the bow and arrow a run for his money.

  It was a goal, after all, and everybody needed one, right? He blew another smoke ring in the shape of a wreath and grinned, then tossed back another shot of scotch. Santa could have his hot chocolate--Damon needed booze.

  ABOUT RHONDA RUSSELL

  A New York Times best-selling author, two-time RITA nominee, Romantic Times Reviewers Choice nominee, and National Readers' Choice Award Winner Rhonda Russell writes hot romantic comedy for Harlequin Books and Firefly Press, her indie press. With more than forty-five published books to her credit and many more coming down the pike, she's thrilled with her career and enjoys dreaming up her characters and manipulating the worlds they live in.

  Rhonda previously wrote as Rhonda Nelson, but getting married necessitated a name change. She and her husband (aka The Sweetest Badass in the World) and their menagerie of pets happily make their home on a 166-acre farm in the middle of nowhere in a small town in Northern Alabama near the banks of the Tennessee River. If you’d like to see videos of baby ducks, spoiled turkeys who like to ride in the car, guineas who think they’re turkeys, then be sure to check her out Facebook Page Author Rhonda Russell.

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  The Soldier, #7

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