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  Over her heart.

  “I’m feeling a little self-­conscious,” she whispered.

  “Funny, that’s not what I’m feeling.”

  No kidding. She could feel him hard as stone through his jeans. “I need caffeine,” she whispered.

  “Here.” He handed her the cup.

  She sipped, aware of the way his eyes heated every inch of her body as they roamed over her.

  Seemed only fair since just the thought of him naked made breathing difficult.

  “Better?” he asked.

  She managed a nod.

  That made him smile. “You’re cute in the mornings,” he said. “If we had more time, I’d show you just how sexy I find that, but it’s time to rise and shine. The roads are open and it’s only six o’clock.”

  “We can get all the way through to Tahoe?”

  He smiled. “Merry Christmas, Rory.”

  Chapter Ten

  RORY SPEED SHOWERED and pulled on clothes, and they were out the door not ten minutes later.

  “Breakfast?” Max asked, pointing to the small continental spread in the check-­in area.

  “No,” she said. “I’m sorry, I just need to get there.”

  He didn’t say anything until he had them loaded and on the highway. “Need to get there?” he repeated curiously. “Yesterday it was ‘want to get there.’ ”

  Yes, and she was extremely aware of the difference. She just didn’t want to explain it, how she felt she’d managed to fail her family yet again. She pulled out her phone to call her mom but she still didn’t have reception. The curse of the Sierra Mountains.

  Max’s hand settled on her thigh and then Carl’s head came over the seat and settled on her shoulder. Rory’s heart warmed from the inside out and she heard herself start talking. “When I told my stepdad I was coming, he had me pick up my mom’s present from him. It’s a necklace he had special ordered and made in the city. It was supposed to be ready a few days ago but got held up. I told him I’d hand deliver it. He was understandably hesitant to believe me since I haven’t been home in so long, but I promised.” She paused. “But they always open presents by dawn. I obviously screwed it all up.”

  “Hold on,” Max said. “The present was going to be late anyway, but you offered to pick it up and hand deliver it. You set a deadline on yourself, and now because you missed that you think you failed them? Do I have that right?”

  “You don’t understand,” she said. “I’ve made promises to come home before and haven’t come through. I wanted this to be different.”

  “It is different. You’re actually going. And if not for the storm and then my truck and Carl, you’d have been there.”

  “Not your fault,” she said, reaching out to put her hand on his arm. “All those things were out of your control.”

  He slid her a quick look, his eyes warm. “Yeah, and remember that, Rory. Remember the very same thing. None of this is your fault.”

  An hour and a half later they made it up and over the summit and into their small Tahoe town. It was just barely eight o’clock. Definitely past her self-­imposed deadline, but still early. Hopefully early enough, but her heart was pounding with anxiety.

  Max pulled into the driveway of her childhood home. The place was a small ranch-­style house, emphasis on small, in a neighborhood of hard-­working ­people who didn’t spare a lot of time or money on their yards. Not that it mattered because the new snowfall was a white blanket over everything as far as the eye could see, giving new life to the tired street, making it indeed look like Christmas.

  “Rory,” Max said quietly, once again putting a hand on her thigh. “Breathe.”

  Right. She’d been holding her breath. She gulped in some air but she was close to a nervous breakdown. Hands sweating, she made herself busy gathering her stuff because a good part of her nerves, she suddenly realized, was from the thought of saying goodbye to Max.

  He’d made his interest in her clear but she still felt a moment of panic that she’d somehow misunderstood. “Thanks for the ride,” she said quickly as she slid out of the truck, grabbing her bag. “I appreciate—­”

  Max got out of the truck as well, and then was there, right there at her side, pulling her around to face him. “I’ll drive you back to the city whenever you’re ready to go.”

  “I can take the bus—­”

  “I’ll drive you,” he said firmly.

  “But I don’t want to cut your visit with your family short—­”

  “I’m taking you back,” he said right over her. Calm. Sure. Absolutely adamant. “Whatever day and time you want. I’ll call you in a little bit to see how you’re doing, and you can call me too. Any time.” He bent a little to look right into her eyes. “Repeat after me, Rory. Any time.”

  She stared into his dark green eyes and felt something catch in her heart. Or maybe it was just rolling over and exposing its tender underbelly. “Any time,” she whispered.

  “Because this isn’t over,” he said and waited for her to repeat that as well.

  “Max—­”

  “You wanted to give me a Christmas present,” he said quietly. “This is it. This is what I want.”

  “Me?”

  “You.”

  Warmth filled her, and not just her good spots. She felt cherished, wanted, cared for . . . and she felt something else—­a huge smile on her face. She couldn’t control it. “And I didn’t even have to wrap it.”

  He relaxed and smiled back, and then leaned in for a kiss just as Carl stuck his big head out the truck’s still open door and licked Rory from chin to forehead.

  She laughed while Max cupped the dog’s face in his big palm and pushed him back into the truck. He turned to Rory then, his smile fading as he looked past her to the front door. She followed his gaze and froze at the sight of her stepdad standing on the porch, arms crossed, face creased in the stern frown that had framed her entire youth.

  “You’re here,” he called out. “Thought maybe you’d changed your mind.”

  Again. He didn’t say the word but she felt it shimmering in the air between them. “I didn’t.” The warm fuzzies of a moment ago were fading fast, leaving her chilled, more than the snow around her. “I’m sorry I’m late, but—­”

  “No one expected you to get here on any sort of timetable.”

  Okay, she got it, she was the screw-­up once again, but damn. It hurt more than she thought to be on the other side and be judged for who she’d once been. “You don’t understand, this time was different—­”

  “Actually, I do understand and I’m not surprised—­”

  “Hold on,” Max said and grabbed Rory’s hand. “You haven’t let her talk.”

  Her stepdad looked at him. “Max Stranton. What are you doing here?”

  “I’m Rory’s boyfriend,” he said so easily that Rory’s heart skipped a beat. “The storm slowed us down,” Max went on. “The roads were a mess.”

  “You two okay?” her stepdad asked.

  “Yes,” Max said. “But we stopped to help an older ­couple with a flat, and then my dog took off on us. Rory could’ve gotten a ride from the one car who’d stopped but she stayed to help me find Carl.”

  Her stepdad looked at Rory.

  “I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you,” she said, “but there was no way I could just take the ride and leave Max alone on the summit in the storm with his dog missing.”

  “Of course not,” her stepdad said.

  Rory blinked. Was that . . . understanding in her stepdad’s voice? Still stunned at that, she turned to Max when he said her name. He cupped the nape of her neck in a big palm and pulled her in for a quick but warm kiss. “Any time,” he said softly. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Even if it’s in a few hours.”

  She let out a half laugh that was more like a sob so she cut it off. “I already told you, I won’t cut your visit short—­”

  “Or yours,” her stepdad said. He’d left the fro
nt porch and had come closer. “Your mom and sisters are going to be thrilled you made it, Rory.”

  She looked at him. “Really?”

  He gestured with his chin and turned to the front door, where her mom and her three half sisters waited with welcoming smiles on their faces, waving. They were all still in their PJ’s, keeping them inside, but at their clear joy at seeing her she felt a lump in her throat.

  “It’s Christmas,” her stepdad said quietly. “And you’re actually here. Merry Christmas, Rory. Welcome home. We’ll wait inside for you.” And then with one look at Max standing strong and tall at her side, he turned and headed back to the house.

  Max pulled her into him. “Knew you could handle this.”

  “How?” she asked in marvel. “I mean, I’ve been with me for twenty-­three years and I still don’t get me.”

  He let out a low laugh and pressed his forehead to hers. “I was a little slow on the uptake, but I’ve got you now and I don’t plan for that to change.”

  Her breath caught. That sounded a whole lot like her greatest fantasy come true.

  “There’s one more thing.” He nudged her face up. “I love you, Rory. I think I always have.”

  Emotion flooded her and her knees wobbled. “I need to sit.”

  Max urged her back a few steps to his still open truck. When she was once again in the passenger seat, he crouched in front of her. “Still with me?”

  Her heart had started to pound. She’d never thought to hear the L-­word from anyone, much less him, but there it was, out in the open. She should have known it would be like that with him. Honest. Straightforward. She looked into his eyes and nodded. “Still here.”

  “Did you just nearly pass out when I told you my feelings?” he asked.

  “No. I nearly passed out when I realized something.”

  “What?”

  “That I think feel the same way,” she whispered like this was a state secret, loving the way it made him smile all the way to his eyes, allowing her to access a well of courage she hadn’t known she’d had. She slid her fingers into his hair, which she now knew would make him purr like a cat, a big, wild cat. “I love you, Max.” She paused and then let out a small smile as she repeated his vow. “I think I always have.”

  His low laugh warmed to her to the far corners of her heart and he pulled her in for a tight squeeze. “I’ll be back for you. You going to be okay?”

  She realized she’d been holding her breath again, for what she had no idea. For him to change his mind? Laugh? Take it all back? “So . . . that’s it?” she asked. “You love me, I love you, the end?”

  “For now,” he said.

  “And later?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “We can talk about our next step.”

  “Which would be . . . ?” she asked.

  He kissed the tension away and then pulled back far enough to say, “Whatever you want.”

  “What about what you want?” she asked, breathless. She was pretty sure he kissed her just to leave her in a state.

  He stroked the hair from her face. “I want it all.”

  Oh. Well, that sounded . . . promising. And exciting. She was so happy she yanked him in and kissed him until both of them were breathless. “Merry Christmas,” she whispered against his lips. “I’ll give you your real present later.”

  He smiled sexily. “Sounds promising.”

  She smiled back. “It is.”

  Read on for a look at the other fun and sexy Heartbreaker Bay novels

  SWEET LITTLE LIES

  THE TROUBLE WITH MISTLETOE

  Available now from Avon Books!

  And an exclusive sneak peek of

  ACCIDENTALLY ON PURPOSE

  Coming January 2017!

  Preorder it today!

  Sweet Little Lies

  Chapter 1

  #KeepCalmAndRideAUnicorn

  PRU HARRIS’S MOM had taught her to make wishes on pink cars, falling leaves, and brass lamps, because wishing on something as ordinary as stars or wishing wells was a sign of no imagination.

  Clearly the woman standing not three feet away in the light mist, searching her purse for change to toss into the courtyard fountain hadn’t been raised by a hippie mom as Pru had been.

  Not that it mattered, since her mom had been wrong. Wishes, along with things like winning the lotto or finding a unicorn, never happened in real life.

  The woman, shielding her eyes from the light rain with one hand, holding a coin in her other, sent Pru a wry grimace. “I know it’s silly, but it’s a hit-­rock-­bottom thing.”

  Something Pru understood all too well. She set a wriggly Thor down and shook her arms to try and bring back some circulation. Twenty-­five pounds of wet, tubby, afraid-­of-­his-­own-­shadow mutt had felt like seventy-­five by the end of their thirty-­minute walk home from work.

  Thor objected to being on the wet ground with a sharp bark. Thor didn’t like rain.

  Or walking.

  But he loved Pru more than life itself so he stuck close, his tail wagging slowly as he watched her face to determine what mood they were in.

  The woman blinked and stared down at Thor. “Oh,” she said, surprised. “I thought it was a really fat cat.”

  Thor’s tail stopped wagging and he barked again, as if to prove that not only was he all dog, he was big, badass dog.

  Because Thor—­a rescue of undetermined breed—­also believed he was a bullmastiff.

  When the woman took a step back, Pru sighed and picked him back up again. His old man face was creased into a protective frown, his front paws dangling, his tail back to wagging now that he was suddenly tall. “Sorry,” Pru said. “He can’t see well and it makes him grumpy, but he’s not a cat.” She gave Thor a behave squeeze. “He only acts like one.”

  Thor volleyed back a look that said Pru might want to not leave her favorite shoes unattended tonight.

  The woman’s focus turned back to the fountain and she eyed the quarter in her hand. “They say it’s never too late to wish on love, right?”

  “Right,” Pru said. Because they did say that. And just because in her own personal experience love had proven even rarer than unicorns didn’t mean she’d step on someone else’s hopes and dreams.

  A sudden bolt of lightning lit up the San Francisco skyline like the Fourth of July. Except it was June, and cold as the Arctic. Thor squeaked and shoved his face into Pru’s neck. Pru started to count but didn’t even get to One-­Mississippi before the thunder boomed loud enough to make them all jump.

  “Yikes.” The woman dropped the quarter back into her purse.