Just For Christmas (Just Us Series Book 5) Page 3

  Joel swats at him and Andi grimaces, but I hardly notice through my laughter.

  “Well, I mean, I’m not going to say no if you’re offering, I guess,” I say when I stop giggling, “But really, how bad could it be?”

  The silence that falls over the three of them is jarring, smiles wiped clean from all of their faces, and I wonder again:

  What the hell did I get myself into?

  Chapter Six

  Joel

  “Stop bouncing your leg, you’re making the whole car jiggle,” I complain as we’re on our way to pick up Emilie.

  He stops, but fidgets with his tie, loosening it and then tightening it again. I sigh. “You know it’s going to be ok, right?”

  “They’re gonna figure it out,” he says, shaking his head, “I should just fake my own death.”

  “Yeah, because that’ll work,” I snort.

  “We’ll flee the country, never to be seen again,” he continues, and I laugh.

  “Drew, relax, it’s going to be ok,” I reassure him.

  We had spent as much time as possible with Emilie, trying to give her a crash course in Drew and trying to learn more about her. Although she’d share some of the little details, favorite colors and allergies, when topics turned deeper, she got skittish.

  I wondered what she was hiding, but I supposed it was none of my business. She’s doing us a favor, she’s entitled to some secrets. And after all, Drew had given us a decent cover by claiming it was a new relationship.

  We crafted a backstory about how they’d only met about two months ago, concocting some cheesy little meet-cute at a coffee shop that interestingly enough, they both frequent anyway.

  We’d been quizzing Emilie via text all day, making sure she was ready for just about anything Drew’s parents might lob at her, and she’s passed with flying colors. So while I’m nervous, I feel pretty certain that we’re going to get away with this.

  As we pull up to the address Emilie gave us, I can’t help the frown creeping over my face. I don’t like this area, it puts me on edge, and the idea of that sweet little blonde being here by herself bothers me.

  “Kinda sketchy,” Drew says, voicing my thoughts aloud, looking concerned.

  “Hopefully that ten grand is going to go toward getting her out of here,” I murmur as we get out of the car to head to her apartment.

  It’s not like it’s any of our business or anything, though. We find our way to her door and Drew knocks loudly.

  “One second!” Emilie calls from inside.

  When the door swings open, I can’t help a little curiosity and I peek inside. To my confusion, I notice that there are toys on the floor, but when I actually catch a glimpse of Emilie, the room around her is quickly forgotten.

  While she’d been cute in her jeans and t-shirt, I’m blown away by the sight of her in a little black dress that clings to her full curves. “Is this ok?” she asks nervously, “I know black isn’t exactly Christmassy, but…” she trails off, looking embarrassed.

  Ruby red lips and soft blonde waves give her a classic beauty that’s hard to tear my gaze from. “You look perfect,” Drew says.

  I glance at him and see that he looks as entranced as I feel. It’s strange. I almost wonder for a moment if I should be jealous, but at the same time, I’m attracted to her, too.

  We lead Emilie out to the car and I open the passenger door for her. “Thanks,” she murmurs, sliding into the seat.

  The hem of her dress slides up, exposing more of her pale, creamy thighs and I force myself to tear my gaze away.

  She’s a gorgeous woman, I tell myself, anyone would be attracted to her. It doesn’t mean anything.

  I try and push the stupid thoughts out of my head. We’ve got bigger problems to deal with right now than my fucking boner, and I need to keep my head in the game.

  “You ready for this?” I ask her as I slide into the seat behind her.

  She nods. “I think so.”

  Drew pulls out of the parking lot and we head towards his parents’ house. There’s a heavy silence in the car, and everyone’s nerves are palpable.

  “Any last minute tips?” Emilie asks, finally breaking the quiet.

  “When in doubt, let Drew talk over you. His folks almost expect him to be kind of a pushy, domineering prick anyway,” I advise her.

  “What do you mean by that?” she asks.

  “Typical macho shit,” Drew says.

  “Ah. So “meek and simpering” is kind of what I should be shooting for?” she asks.

  I laugh, and Drew’s chuckling. “Honestly? Yeah, kind of,” Drew admits, “That would probably make this as painless as possible.”

  “I can do that,” Emilie nods.

  Doesn’t seem like that would be too hard. “Just play up the nerves, you’ll come across as a shy, delicate flower,” I suggest, “His folks will eat that shit up.”

  She giggles. “That sounds easy enough,” she admits.

  “Don’t worry,” Drew reassures her, “You’re gonna be fine.”

  We finally arrive and he enters the gate code. Emilie’s eyes widen as we pull up to the house. “Um…this is your childhood home?” she squeaks.

  “Yep. Home, sweet home,” Drew says drily.

  “I feel like maybe I need a crash course in which fork to use,” Emilie murmurs.

  “Just follow our lead,” I tell her reassuringly.

  The three of us slide out of the car and make our way to the door. Drew reaches up for the bell and I can see his hand shaking. “We ready?” he asks.

  I open my mouth to say something, but Emilie speaks first and it’s as if her mouth had connected to my brain. “Are you?”

  “No,” Drew admits, “But that’s not going to get any better even if I wait longer.”

  Emilie nods. “So let’s just do this.”

  To my surprise, she reaches up and takes the hand that’s poised near the doorbell, lacing her fingers through his and giving his hand a little squeeze to comfort him. Then with her other hand, she takes charge and rings the bell.

  I can’t help but feel a little jealous, despite myself, looking at their interlocked fingers. I wish it were me up there.

  I wish it could be Drew and I showing off that little display of love, rather than this stranger we’ve roped into our crazy lives. But at the same time, I’m glad to see that Emilie seems so dedicated to helping us.

  Somehow, despite barely knowing us, she cares about us, that much is evident. So while it stings, reminding me of what I can’t have, it still touches me to see the little act of comfort.

  “We’ve got this,” she murmurs, and I can see a fire blazing in her eyes.

  The surge of confidence is contagious. I just hope it’s enough.

  Chapter Seven

  Drew

  The chiming of the doorbell is punctuated by the door swinging open. “Thank God you’re finally here,” Andi says as she lays eyes on us, “I think we’re getting dangerously close to discussing the weather in there.”

  There’s a glass of wine in her hand and I snake it from her, stealing a swig to steel myself for what’s coming. She snorts. “Amateur,” she mocks, lifting the hem of her skirt up her thigh to show us a garter around her leg with a special holster for a flask sewn in.

  “I think you might be my hero,” Emilie murmurs, and Andi grins.

  “Well, thank you. For that, you get first sip of the fun flask,” she says, tugging the flask free and offering it to Emilie.

  Emilie hesitates, but takes a little nip. “Pass it around, but hurry, we better get in there,” Andi warns.

  Joel and I each take a quick sip, and I have to appreciate my sister’s taste in rum. And the little swig of liquid courage has the desired effect, drowning a nervous butterfly or two.

  Not that there won’t be liquor inside, but tempting as it will be, we all agreed that we should take it easy. We don’t want to risk someone drinking too much and letting something slip.

  “Andrea, who�
�s at the door?” My mother calls, and I see Andi grimace.

  Neither of us care much for our full names, especially together. Andrew and Andrea. It sounds like the kind of cutesy naming thing you might do for twins, even though we’re a year apart.

  But Andi plasters on the famous Bennett smile and leads us in. “Look what the cat dragged in!” she exclaims with forced enthusiasm.

  “Andrew!” my mother rises to her feet, “You finally made it, we were getting worried!”

  I’ve known my mother long enough to read the passive aggressive translation underneath the words, criticizing me for my lateness.

  I look at the clock. Two minutes past when I was expected. While mentally, I’m heaving a sigh, I fix that stupid smile on my face. “Sorry to worry you, traffic was a mess.”

  I accept my mother’s little routine, kissing me on both cheeks, even though I desperately want to roll my eyes. So pretentious.

  “And Joel, wonderful to see you,” my mother says, pulling Joel in for the same “kiss, kiss” bit.

  “So, are you going to introduce us to your lady friend, Andrew?” my father asks as he joins us.

  “Yes, of course. Everyone, this is Emilie Lehane, Emilie, this is my father, Arthur Bennett, and my mother, Gabrielle,” I say, gesturing as I do.

  Emilie shakes my father’s hand and I see him lift an eyebrow in surprise. “Pleasure to meet you,” she tells them both, flashing my mother a dazzling smile.

  The smile is just the beginning, almost immediately she compliments my mother’s manicure and my mother immediately begins to talk her ear off about how hard it is to find a good manicurist in this town, blah blah blah, but it’s a good sign.

  “Well, good job, son,” my father says as Emilie listens to my mother yammering on about those “wild” nail polish colors, “She’s a hot little piece.”

  Even if Emilie isn’t actually my girlfriend, I can’t say I appreciate the way my father is eyeing Emilie’s curves in that dress. I grit my teeth. “She sure is,” I choke out.

  “What about you, Joel?” my father asks, “When are you going to settle down?”

  Joel forces a laugh. “Oh, you know me, Arthur,” he says, “I’m just not a one-woman man.”

  My father chuckles. “Can’t say I blame you,” he says, “I remember those days, young and single.”

  Mercifully, the doorbell rings again. “I’ll get it!” Andi says immediately, but my mother shoots her a look that makes her freeze in her tracks.

  “Let the maid get it, Andrea, we pay the help for a reason,” my mother chides.

  Her tone is gentle, but there’s a steel edge in her eyes.

  There’s an awkward silence before Emilie clears her throat and comments on a painting behind my mother, easing the tension and setting my mother off on another diatribe.

  The housekeeper, Violette, escorts my parents’ guests into the room, and as a few more people arrive, the pressure ebbs off a little and Emilie is finally able to slip away from my mother.

  “You hanging in there?” I whisper in her ear, slipping an arm around her waist to show off a little PDA.

  “Not too bad so far,” she whispers back.

  “You say that now,” I mutter.

  She leans over and kisses my cheek, to my surprise. “Don’t worry,” she whispers, “It’s gonna be ok.”

  For the first time since we arrived here, my smile is genuine. As we’d told Emilie more and more about what to expect, rather than scaring her off, it only seemed to cement her resolve.

  Her confident words turn out to be true, though. The rest of the night is dull, but painless, and Emilie charms my parents effortlessly.

  It’s hard not to be charmed by her, though. She’s so genuine and sweet, and her personality just gives off this warmth that draws me in.

  Not to mention the way she looks tonight. That little black dress clinging to her voluptuous figure is intoxicating, and those ruby red lips are just begging for attention.

  Whoa. Wait. She’s not actually your girlfriend, dipshit, I think to myself, shaking my head.

  Flooded with guilt, I look at Joel, sure that he’s going to somehow sense my moment of attraction to someone else. But to my surprise, he’s not paying me any mind. His gaze is locked on Emilie, too, which, oddly enough, makes me feel better.

  A beautiful woman is like art. We can look and appreciate as long as we stick to museum rules and stay hands off, right?

  It’s a weird feeling, though. In all the years Joel and I have been together, I’ve never really looked at anyone else. It’s not like I’m suddenly eyeing every attractive person around me, though, either, it’s just Emilie.

  Or does that make it worse?

  I try and shake off the thoughts and focus on what’s happening around me, but honestly, things are going off without a hitch, I barely have to say a word. My mother is happy to chatter away at Emilie about an ever-shifting array of topics, and to her credit, she actually manages to look interested.

  Joel and my father talk golf, which I always find amusing. Joel doesn’t actually watch and has zero interest in golf, but my father weaseled him into playing a game with him once and now acts as if it’s “their thing.” Joel encourages it, though, saying it keeps my father occupied and away from less pleasant topics.

  But even so, I notice that Joel is unusually distracted and his gaze keeps slipping over to Emilie.

  Finally, mercifully, after dinner and dessert and coffee and endless tedious conversation, we’re on our way out the door to head to the car. “It was such a pleasure to meet you, dear,” my mother tells Emilie, giving her the “kiss, kiss” routine.

  I take that as a good sign. “The pleasure was all mine,” Emilie replies, and I have to admit, I’m impressed.

  She sounds genuine without gushing, even though I can see the slight twitch in her cheek betraying the exhaustion from holding that pretty smile in place.

  And once we’re in the car and well out of sight, she lets it drop and immediately massages her cheeks. “Holy shit, my face hurts,” she sighs, “I don’t know how you guys keep up that Stepford crap.”

  I laugh. It’s nice to hear her relax with us after such a stiff night.

  “Years of practice,” Joel says with a groan of relief as he tilts his head and cracks his neck.

  I make a face. I hate it when he does that, and to my horror, Emilie almost seems to take it as a challenge and does the same. “Ugh, that sound…”

  “Sorry,” Emilie laughs sheepishly, “So, uh, was that ok? Do you think they bought it?”

  “You had them eating out of the palm of your hand,” I tell her with a grin, “I’m impressed.”

  “Thanks,” she smiles, leaning back in the seat and letting out a long sigh, “Wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

  “Don’t let your guard down, though. We’re not out of the woods yet,” Joel warns.

  “That is, if you’re still on board, after all this,” I add, glancing over at her.

  In one of our may texts back and forth, I had told her that even if it threw a wrench in our plans, she could still back out at any time.

  She nods. “I’m still in if you are.”

  Chapter Eight

  Drew

  “Want a drink?” I ask Joel as we walk in our front door, tossing my suit coat over the back of a chair.

  We’d dropped Emilie off for the night and rode home in relative silence, both of us still processing the night.

  “God, yes,” he sighs, loosening his tie and peeling off his suit jacket.

  I pour us both some bourbon and settle onto the couch. Joel kicks off his shoes and sits down beside me and I lean against him with a sigh. “So, you think we can really pull this off?” I ask him.

  “Yeah,” he tells me, taking a drink, “I do. Emilie did well with your folks, I think they love her.”

  “They do. I’m gonna have to say she dumped me when we “break up,” or they’ll murder me,” I laugh.

  A silence f
alls over us as we sip our drinks. “You know,” Joel says, “It kind of sounded like that black dress might be her only nice one. Maybe we should ask Andi if Emilie can borrow some things so your mom doesn’t give her a hard time about it.”

  “That’s not a bad idea, actually,” I admit, “But Andi’s a lot taller than she is, I’m not sure her stuff will fit. Maybe we should just go pick some stuff out for her.”

  “You mean I should,” he corrects me with a laugh, “You have all the fashion sense of a blind potato.”

  “First of all, potatoes-…I was about to say potatoes don’t have eyes, you sneaky fuck.”

  Joel laughs and I roll my eyes, but I can’t help but grin. “Remind me again why I put up with you?” I grumble.

  Joel grins and sips his drink. “Because even if your taste in clothes sucks, you have great taste in men?”

  I lean over and kiss him. “Yeah,” I murmur, “I really do.”

  He sets down his drink and moves closer, his hand cupping the back of my head and the heat of his mouth on mine.

  The taste of the sweet whiskey on his tongue mingled with the taste of him is fucking divine. He draws back slowly and I run my thumb along his jaw, feeling the scrape of the stubble coming in. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too,” he says, a smile spreading across his face.

  I get up and turn on the gas log in the fireplace. It’s not the same as a good old crackling wood fire, but it adds something to the room.

  “You know,” I hedge as I’m setting it up, “I may be a blind potato, but that black dress looked pretty fucking good on her.”

  “Yeah, it did,” Joel agrees, a worshipful note in his voice.

  “Do you ever miss it?” I ask.

  “Miss what?”

  “Being with women,” I sit back down beside him.

  Joel goes still and looks at me. “Do you?” he asks.

  “Not exactly,” I say, shaking my head.

  “I think I know what you mean,” he admits, “Like you’re content with what you have, but that doesn’t stop you from thinking about it sometimes?”

  “Exactly,” I say with a sigh of relief.