How the Hitman Stole Christmas - Sam Mariano Page 0,72

Eve. Are you gonna help me wrap all these presents? We haven’t even started.”

“I’m not much for wrapping presents.”

“Just pretend it’s a body you have to get rid of,” she suggests blithely. “You’ll do a great job.”

I cock an eyebrow in surprise at her extremely off-color joke… well, I guess it’s not really a joke, but I squeeze her anyway for daring to tease me about it.

She laughs and swats me away, then leans in for one more kiss before she rolls out of bed.

“Come on,” she tells me, walking her pretty little ass toward the bathroom. “We’ve got a lot to do today.”

Since we got all dirty after our shower last night, we try again this morning.

Now that I’ve had her, I can’t keep my hands off her, though, so I end up shoving her against the wall and fucking her in the shower again, too.

Once we finally get dressed, we make our way upstairs to see what everyone else is up to today. Mom is in the kitchen, already making preparations for Christmas Eve dinner. I’m still not used to seeing her cook. When we were kids, I was convinced she didn’t know how.

“There’s my favorite brother,” Nora says lightly, drawing my attention. She’s seated at the kitchen island with Amira beside her, eating a bowlful of scrambled eggs. “Tarek has been waiting for you to get up. He wanted to talk to you about something.”

I catch Autumn’s gaze as she heads around the counter to ask my mom if she can help with anything, but then I focus my attention back on my sister. “Where is he?”

“The den,” she says, gesturing to the room by the front door.

I nod and start to head that way, but the sound of Autumn’s voice calls me back. “Do you want breakfast?”

“Sure, if you’re making some.”

She flashes me a smile, then turns around and opens the refrigerator.

I leave the ladies to do their thing and join Tarek and Tom in the den.

I like Tom’s den. It feels more familiar to me, reminds me of rooms I’ve spent time in with more serious men—the kind that are more like me.

These ones certainly aren’t, but I’m glad. I like Tarek, but I wouldn’t want my sister with him if he were more like me.

That’s a sobering thought.

Autumn flashes to mind, all that hope in her eyes when we were in bed last night.

She all but asked me to keep her.

I did plan to make her mine right from the moment I decided to take her, but…

I didn’t know then how it would feel to actually care about her. I didn’t expect her to get under my skin.

When I first took Autumn, I imagined enjoying her for a time, but I didn’t expect to connect emotionally. I never had before with any of the women I met in more traditional ways, and ours was an exceptionally atypical courtship, so I never dreamed I’d get attached to her.

She’d be nice to have around for a while—a warm body, a temporary cure for the loneliness—and when that had run its course, we’d both move on.

I figured it would be easy. Easier for me than her, probably, but that’s turning out to be bullshit.

Touching her may have been a mistake, because now I can’t stop. Even walking into this den, being a room away from her, mildly annoys me.

I’ve never felt so possessive over a girlfriend before. The idea of her being attracted to anyone but me chafes in a way I’m not used to.

And it hurts me to disappoint her, to see her sad or upset. What the fuck is that all about? When she asked that question last night, I knew I should tell her that yes, having a family with me would be impossible, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t kill her hopes, even if it was the right thing to do.

I’ve never experienced any of this before.

Sure, I’ve liked the girlfriends that came before her, but it’s completely different with Autumn. The way I’m starting to feel toward her, it’s more like she’s my family than some guest star in my life.

Maybe this week has fucked with my head. Seeing her here with my mom and sister, woven into the fabric of my family, caring about Uncle Arlo, and hanging out with my sister and her boyfriend like that’s normal…

That’s it. That’s gotta be it.

It’s just Stillwater. If we were in Chicago, maybe she’d just be any other girl,