out, decorating our tiny Brooklyn apartment. One year, the tree she got was so big that Pop couldn’t get it up our sixth-floor walkup. Had to rig a pulley to bring it up through our window. But he did it because he loved her so much and would do anything for her.”
Cam’s expression softened, and he cupped the side of her face. “When … how …”
She gave his palm a nuzzle and breathed in his scent. “Brain aneurism. She was human, and it was all very quick, and she felt no pain. I was nine.” A tear rolled down her cheek, and he brushed it away. “I can still remember the l-last Christmas we spent together.” The smell of fresh-baked cookies. Ribbons and wrapping paper everywhere. Ma and Pop kissing under the mistletoe. “The summer after she … she … we moved here to Blackstone so my father could open the garage and we could start afresh. New York was just … everything back there reminded us of her. But when Christmas rolled around, we realized we couldn’t let her down. We couldn’t forget her, not during this time of the year.”
“Bloody hell,” Cam cursed, then pulled her in for a hug. “I’m sorry, love,” he murmured into her hair. “So sorry.”
She sniffed and wiped her eyes on his shoulder. “It’s silly—”
“It’s not,” he said.
“It is. I’m a grown woman. They’ve both been gone for so long and I just … it’s a big deal to me, okay?”
“And now I know why.” Hauling her around, he made her legs straddle him, then tilted her chin up. “I apologize for being harsh.” His lips swept over hers gently. “And thank you for telling me.”
She looked deep into his eyes, her thumb brushing a lock of hair that had loosened from his ponytail and clung to his cheek. The blue-violet orbs stared back, and she waited for him to say … something. To give his own confession on why he hated Christmas. But they remained like that for a few heartbeats with neither speaking. Maybe he just doesn’t like the holidays. Weirdo. But he was her weirdo. “So, I guess we just passed a milestone.”
“Milestone?”
“Yeah. Our first fight.”
“Hmm.” He blinked. “I do believe you’re right.”
“Now it’s time for another milestone—first kiss and make up.” Moving her hips against his, she leaned down to press her lips to his. She must have caught him by surprise because he didn’t move, but then quickly responded. There ya go.
A growl rattled from his chest as his hands moved down to cup her ass, pulling her closer against the growing tent in his pants. She shuddered when the ridge of his erection rubbed against her just right, and his tongue invaded her mouth to deepen their kiss. A hand reached up under her sweater, inching up her rib cage to cup her breast.
“Ahem.”
Cam’s hands dropped to his sides as J.D. pulled away, glaring up at Damon, who stood at the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. “Do you mind?”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” Damon grumbled. “You guys already desecrated my office desk, and now you wanna do it to my sofa too?”
“Sorry, Chief.” Cam eased her off his lap. “Won’t happen again. I really promise this time.”
“See that it doesn’t. Now, let’s go eat before the food gets cold,” Damon cocked his head back toward the kitchen.
“Of course. Be with you in a moment,” he called after the chief as he left. “That was close,” he sighed.
“Not close enough.” She smirked at him. He looked so cute, with his glasses askew and that flustered look on his face. “C’mon, champ. Let’s go get some food.”
Chapter Five
Chinese takeaway didn’t seem like the typical Thanksgiving meal, but J.D., Damon, and Gabriel had explained their little tradition as they stood around the huge kitchen island filling up their plates from the numerous boxes.
“Since we moved to Blackstone, Pop and I always spent Thanksgiving with the Coopers,” J.D. began. “He and I, well, neither of us were great cooks, so Damon’s mom was only too happy to have us come over every year.”
“She’s an amazing cook,” Gabriel said. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, we had the best chefs prepare our Thanksgiving at my house, but it was always so formal and stuffy.” His nose wrinkled. “I would always sneak out and come over to Damon’s as soon as I could. We kept the tradition, even while Damon was deployed and when he came back.”