Full hart, p.20
Full Hart, page 20
He’d been tortured and locked naked in a pine box in preparation to be sold like a steer at auction. He could handle a two-hundred-mile run in the icy rain. Child’s play.
“We can FaceTime or Skype or something when we open presents and are at your mum’s tomorrow,” she offered, still sniffling. “Is the hotel at least putting on a Christmas dinner?”
He didn’t know what the hotel was doing, and he didn’t care.
Yes, the movie producer had put Chase and his brothers up at a pretty swanky hotel, and the halls of that hotel were decked to the nines. But he didn’t give a flying fuck about the garland on the banister or the big tree in the foyer. And he sure as fuck didn’t care if the chef was preparing turkey six ways or whatever. He’d take cold pizza in front of a modest tree with a bald patch in the back with his wife and children given the choice any time and every time.
“The kids up?” he asked, having to sip more coffee to clear the strain in his throat.
She made an “mhmm” noise in her throat. “They’re watching Bluey in the living room and eating Cheerios.”
That made him smile. Even when it was Christmas Eve, his kids were little creatures of habit.
“Do you have to work today?” she asked.
“Don’t know. Filming is weather-dependent. And right now, the movie stars are holed up in their hotel rooms, so they don’t really need security. They’re in a separate wing, and the hotel staff seems to be pretty educated on discretion.”
“So basically, you probably could come home if it wasn’t for the road blockage? Then when filming started, you guys could just go back.”
“Theoretically, I suppose …” What was she getting at?
“What’s the weather like right now?”
With a grunt and groan fit for a man twenty years his senior, Chase pried himself out of his chair and walked toward the enormous picture windows of the hotel that looked out over the Pacific Ocean. “Actually, pretty calm. Eye of the storm, maybe?”
She was quiet for a moment, but he could hear her tapping away on her laptop. “Weather Network says that the next storm isn’t set to come through until the twenty-eighth. That winds won’t be much more than a small-craft warning for a bit.”
Great?
Either way, they were all stuck in Tofino until the roads were cleared.
“So filming could resume, or they could wait until the next storm passes.”
Now it just felt like she was talking to herself.
“So you’d need to be back either the twenty-sixth but definitely before the twenty-eighth. Or in the new year if they decide to hold off filming until then.”
“Care to fill me in where that gorgeous head of yours is going?” he asked with a slight chuckle as he moved back toward his seat by the fire.
The hotel was starting to wake up, and guests were making their way downstairs to the dining room for breakfast.
“Just thinking,” she said with a bit of pep to her voice.
“Care to share?”
“Not yet. But I will if it works.”
He shrugged and finished his coffee, his attention caught by Brock’s big frame making its way down the stairs. They gave each other a chin lift, then Brock went over to get coffee.
“About the puppy,” she started. “The breeder is happy to keep them until you and Brock come home.”
They’d already discussed this, and the answer was yes. He and Brock had paid their deposits and would bring the puppies home with them when they returned to Victoria.
What was going on with his wife?
With his coffee, Brock came to sit in the chair across from Chase, lifting a brow in curiosity, which was probably in response to the twisted expression on Chase’s face.
“Okay,” Stacey said, sounding even more chipper. “I can’t wait to see the looks on the kids’ faces.”
“Me too.”
“But listen, babe, I’ve gotta run and get the kids dressed and stuff. We’re meeting Krista and the kids in a little bit to go pick up the pottery they painted last week. Then we’re grabbing lunch and checking out all the Christmas trees at the Bay Center. We can chat tonight, okay?”
Why did he feel like he was getting the brush-off? One minute she was all weepy and sniffly on the phone, crying about not getting to see him on Christmas, and now she was happy and giggly and saying goodbye because she had things to do.
He knew that life must go on and all that shit, but a little less joy in her tone would be appreciated.
“I love you,” he said, rubbing his hand over his bald head. “Kiss the kids for me.”
“I will, and I love you, too.” Then she hung up.
“Everything okay?” Brock asked, gingerly taking a sip of his coffee.
Chase blinked a few times. “Woman was crying about me missing Christmas one minute, then happy as a pig in shit the next talking about the puppy and heading with Krista and the kids to see the trees at the Bay Center. It was almost like the crying was for show.”
“Or was the glee for show?” Brock asked, cocking his head to the side. “She’s fielding a lot of questions and dealing with some pretty disappointed kids right now. Maybe they were within earshot?”
He hadn’t thought of that.
His confusion and hurt started to dissipate, but he cocked his head and leveled his gaze on his brother. “How come you’re all full of wisdom and reason about this kind of shit, but when it comes to Mum and Grant, you can’t see past the stick up your ass?”
Brock grunted and shifted in his seat.
“He saved the Winter Assembly at the kids’ school. He was there for Lydia when she miscarried, helping her and being what she needed, and you have to admit the bus for the Christmas lights tour was pretty cool. He also shoved Thea out of the way from getting hit by a car.” Chase shrugged. “Do I want to think about Mum having sex? Fuck no. Is it weird to think of Mum with anybody but Dad? Fuck yes. But Dad’s been dead for thirty years. She deserves happiness, just like we all do. She’s been through her own kind of hell. Burying the man she loves, raising four sons, going through all the turmoil and worry whenever one of us is in danger. She deserves to have someone to lean on.”
“She has us,” Brock said with another grunt.
“We’re not enough. And we shouldn’t have to be. You’re being a selfish ass. Expecting her to have nobody and just watch us with our families. That’s not fair to her, and you know it.”
“You saying you’re okay with Grant?”
Chase nodded. “I am. I’m not going to stand in their way, and I’m not going to help you take him down.”
“The same goes for me.” Rex joined them, holding coffee.
“And me,” said Heath, chiming in and sidling up next to Rex with his own mug of java. “Grant’s proven he’s not an ass, and he’s not using Mum to get to us. He’s also not trying too hard, which I respect. I like him, and I support his and Mum’s relationship.”
Rex’s head bobbed. “I’m grateful to him for how he helped Lydia. I’ve got no beef with the man.”
Brock’s green eyes flitted back and forth between all his brothers. His cheeks turned ruddy.
Heath and Rex both rolled their eyes.
A text message popped up on Chase’s phone. It was from the puppy breeders. “Anybody want to go snuggle with some puppies?”
Heath and Rex’s faces lit up.
Even Brock’s frosty exterior seemed to thaw a bit, and he stood up when Chase stood up.
Heath smacked their eldest brother on the back. “Not even the Grinch can say no to getting mauled by puppies. Now if only your heart could grow a few more sizes and you stop being such a jerk to the man boning Mum.”
“It’d be a fucking Christmas miracle for that to happen,” Rex replied with a dimpled grin.
All Brock did was grunt.
Chapter 21
Heath & Pasha
“I’m going to need to have another shower or at the very least wash my face,” Heath said with a giant smile as they walked back toward the hotel lobby after getting mauled by puppies. “Puppy breath is great, and their kisses are right up there with kisses from my wife and my kids, but still, I can feel the saliva hardening on my cheeks.”
His brother snorted and chortled.
Rex opened the door for them, and they all stepped into the lobby, making their way to the front desk.
“Any messages for Harty Boys Security?” Brock asked the woman behind the desk in the holly-red red blazer and matching pencil skirt.
Heath loved a good pencil skirt on a woman.
His wife in particular could rock a pencil skirt like no tomorrow. That perfect ass of hers tucked up in the tight fabric. He could bounce a coin off that gift from God.
It was even better when he pushed the fabric up her thighs until it rumpled around her waist as he fucked her.
He stifled his groan, glad that he was wearing loose sweatpants that wouldn’t reveal the half-chub he was sporting at the thought of taking Pasha on her home office desk with her shirt around her waist.
Not that he would ever pressure her for sex, but fuck, it’d been a long time since he’d felt the hot silk of his wife around his cock.
And more than have sex with her, he wanted to fucking eat her.
Heath’s ultimate happy place was with his head between his wife’s thighs and her squeezing him until he couldn’t hear a damn thing.
But she’d just had Eve a little over a month ago, and even though she didn’t say it, he knew she was self-conscious about her body.
If he could give his woman one thing for Christmas—even for a day, fuck an hour—it would be for her to see herself the way he saw her. Goddamn beautiful. Fucking perfect. The stretch marks, the widened hips, even that dark line down the front of her belly turned him the fuck on.
She’d given him children, carried them inside her body for nine months. Children made out of their insatiable passion and soul-rocking love for each other. If she didn’t lose an ounce of the baby weight, he’d still consider her the most exquisite creature on the planet.
“The what now?” Chase asked, leaning forward and asking the front desk employee to repeat herself.
Heath shook his shaggy blond head to dislodge his thoughts of his wife.
He was going to miss Eve’s first Christmas, and that was gut-wrenching enough. He didn’t need to torture himself with the fact that he also wouldn’t be getting to eat Pasha’s Christmas pudding either.
“All I was told was that you needed to pack your belongings, go back and get the puppies—the breeders have been notified and have given the go-ahead—then you are to head out to the helipad. Your chopper will be here within forty-five minutes,” the woman said with a single shoulder lift.
Heath and his brothers all exchanged looks.
They’d heard about Grant aka Santa Claus flying to the rescue at the kids’ school, but was he also coming to get them and take them home for Christmas?
None of them had to say anything. They were all thinking it.
Rex snorted and nudged Brock. “You can’t hold a grudge against the dude now. Not if he’s taking you to your kids for Christmas. He’s literally saving Christmas.”
Brock grunted, then thanked the woman behind the desk and punched a few buttons on his phone with his big meaty finger. He put his phone to his ear a second later.
But nobody picked up, and with a growl, he shoved his phone into the pocket of his black leather jacket.
“Try Mum?” Heath asked, knowing full well that Brock had called Krista. Brock and their mother hadn’t spoken since the night of the Christmas lights tour. And since both of them were as stubborn as they came, it was anybody’s guess who would be the first to break the seal of silence.
Heath had twenty bucks on their mother, simply because Rex had thrown twenty bucks on Brock breaking his silence first, and Heath needed to counter if he was going to make any money.
It was really anybody’s game who held out the longest through.
And if it really was true that Grant was on his way to pick them up and take them home for Christmas, then they were all in for one hell of an awkward day tomorrow if Brock and their mother did make amends.
With a shrug, Heath broke free of their tight foursome and headed for the stairs. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m itching to see family, so I’m going to go pack.” Then, not waiting for his roomie Brock to join him, he took the steps two at a time up to their room, whistling “Jingle Bells” while he went.
Forty-five minutes later, all packed up and shivering in the wind with the puppies hiding in their coats, the four Harty Boys stood and watched as the chopper hovered and then dropped down to the pad.
As they all expected, Grant was in the cockpit.
Shielding their faces—and the puppies’ faces—from the extra wind from the rotors, they waited until the propellers completely stopped until they moved.
Grant swung the door open and hopped down, all smiles, his gray eyes bright. “Howdy, fellas. Need a lift?”
Heath was the first to rush forward and shake Grant’s hand. “Grant, thank you so much. This means the world to me, getting to be there for my baby girl’s first Christmas … thank you.” Then before he could stop himself, because he was just that overwhelmed with gratitude, Heath pulled Grant in for a hug.
Grant didn’t seem to mind and gave Heath a swift back pat in return as he chuckled. “Happy to do it. Just glad the weather is cooperating for us.”
Heath released Grant’s hand and body and looked skyward. “Yeah, no kidding, eh? Been brutal the last few days and projected to get worse next week.”
“Winter storms are part of Tofino’s charm, but if you ask me, Mother Nature got a bit too carried away this time.” Grant lifted his chin when Rex and Chase approached as well, offering him their hands in thanks.
“You just keep saving the day, man,” Rex said, opening up the rear door of the chopper and tossing his duffle bag inside. “I’m starting to think you really might be Santa Claus. Saving Christmas and all.”
Grant’s cheeks turned a little redder than would be expected from the wind, and he smiled and glanced away. “If it makes Joy smile, I’ll do pretty much anything.”
“And that’s why I’m on your team now,” Chase said. “Anybody who would do all the things you’ve done just to make our mother happy is okay in my books.”
Grant nodded and stretched his hand forward to let the nosy puppy sniff his hand. The dog did, then licked it. “They’re both cuties. This one’s a male?”
Chase nodded. “Brock’s got the female.”
Happy and ready to go and see their families, Heath, Rex, and Chase piled into the helicopter. Heath rode shotgun, while the two bald beasts climbed into the back.
All the while, Brock just stood there watching it all with a sour expression on his face.
Heath glanced back into the helicopter at his brothers, and both Rex and Chase rolled their eyes.
“You comin’?” Grant asked. “There’s room for one more.”
Heath saw his oldest brother’s body stiffen and his gaze turn steely.
He didn’t have to see Grant’s face to know the man was probably rolling his eyes just like the rest of them.
Sure, when they all met Grant, they were skeptical about the man. Did their due diligence and dug around to uncover any skeletons lurking in his closet, any nefarious deeds in his past. But the man was clean.
And more than that, he was actually really fucking nice.
He wasn’t trying too hard to get Heath and his brothers to like him. He didn’t seem to care whether they did or not. And in all honesty, that made Heath respect Grant even more.
Now Heath, Rex, Chase and all their wives and kids really did like Grant. He’d proven himself to be a likable guy, even without all the extra things he did to make their mother smile. But the fact that he did make her smile as much as they’d all witnessed lately was just a big bonus.
“Gonna let the pup catch a chill?” Grant asked Brock.
Brock’s bottom jaw jutted out.
Grant’s shoulders slumped slightly. “Look, Brock, you can hate me. I really don’t care. You can think I’m the scum of the fucking Earth. I. Do. Not. Care. What I do care about is your mother, and she wants her sons home for Christmas. This is one of my gifts to her—particularly since she’s an impossible woman to buy for. But you’re not getting in this chopper until you promise me you’ll apologize to your mother. I don’t give a flying fuck what you say to me or about me, and you’re more than welcome to break into my house and lift up my mattress or dig through my sock drawer—you won’t find anything. But the things you said to your mother were unacceptable. I’ll take the dog to your family, and you can stay here with your anger, but those are my conditions. I’m happy to fly you home for Christmas, but you owe your mother an apology.”
Heath glanced back at Rex and Chase again. They all nodded and shrugged.
Points to Grant.
Not too many people had the balls to call Brock out like that.
And Grant was proving to have grapes the size of grapefruits.
Brock tightened his hold on the puppy in his jacket. But his nod was there. It was tight and it was curt, but it was there.
That seemed to be enough for Grant, because he clapped his hands once, nodded, and spun to open up the door to the cockpit. “Well, that’s settled then. Let’s get this bird off the ground and get home.”
Grant climbed up into the pilot’s seat, and Rex closed the rear door once Brock was in his seat.
“All right, puppies and Harty Boys, I’ll have you back with your families in no time. I’d like to thank you for choosing Wild Ride Helitours today. We pride ourselves on our safety, attention to detail, and customer service. Please let your friends know about us and receive ten percent off your next booking.”
Heath put the aviation headset on his head and grinned wide at Grant.
“Time for a dust-off!” Rex cheered, following it up with a hoot.
“Ho ho ho!” Grant laughed as he turned over the engine for the chopper and, after she was all warmed up, gently lifted her into the sky. “And away … we … go!”
