Pink Christmas (The Pink Series Book 2) Read online

  Thad kisses my raw lips and smiles. He rubs his nose along mine, making me giggle once more.

  Max settles on my left side and Thad lies down on my right. We barely get in a few deep breaths before a soft, loving whine echoes up from the foot of the bed.

  The three of us raise our heads and smile at the tiny brown eyes peeking over the mattress.

  Our year-old chocolate lab, Stinky.

  “Hey, Stinky,” I say. “You need to go out?”

  The moment the word out leaves my lips, she pops up and bounces her paws off the mattress and excitedly wags her tail.

  “That’s a yes,” Max says.

  “I got her,” Thad says as he sits up. “It’s my turn.”

  He gets off the bed and scans the floor in search of his flannel pants. I prop up to help, quickly attempting to replay the first few moments of our morning tryst, and point over Max’s side. “I think I threw them over there,” I say, recalling.

  Thad shuffles over, his flaccid cock happily dangling between his thighs. “Yep,” he says, catching sight of them. “Thank you.”

  I lie back down and Max raises his arm, leaving his chest open for a very comfortable resting place. “Thank you,” I say to Thad as I settle down.

  He pulls his pants on and grabs the shirt next to it to throw on as well. I smile wide. It’s Max’s shirt, though neither of them seems to care at all.

  They share, remember?

  “C’mon, Stink,” Thad says, patting his leg. “Let’s go.”

  Stinky lets out a loving bark and bolts out into the hallway beneath his feet.

  “Hey, watch it, girl.”

  I giggle to myself as Thad thumps down the stairs to the ground floor of our brownstone home.

  Max wraps his warm arms around me. “Alone at last,” he says, kissing my brow.

  I smile at the joke but my grin slowly fades. “Do you really have to go to work?” I ask.

  He strokes my shoulder. “Yes,” he answers.

  “But it’s Christmas.”

  “It’s Christmas Eve.”

  “Still Christmas.”

  “I won’t be gone long.” He runs his lips along my upper brow. “Just a few hours and then I’m all yours until New Year’s, okay?”

  I sigh. “Okay.”

  Max lays a finger beneath my chin and tilts my face up. “What’s wrong?” he asks, reading me like a book.

  “Nothing.”

  “Not nothing. You’ve got worry face.”

  “I’m not worried,” I say, not even convincing myself.

  Max eases up onto his elbows. “What’s wrong, Pheebs?” he asks.

  “It’s just…” I bite my cheek. “It’s our first Christmas together.”

  He furrows his brow. “No, it’s not.”

  “Last year doesn’t count,” I argue. “We weren’t even moved in here yet. We didn’t have a tree or decorations — or even Stinky. This is our first official Christmas as a family and I want it to be perfect.”

  “It will be perfect.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “Trust me, Phoebe. Nothing — and I mean nothing — is going to stop me and Thad from giving you the best Christmas ever.”

  “Not even your dad?”

  “Especially not him.” He smiles, firing warmth from his dimples straight to my heart. “All right?”

  I nod. “All right.”

  “Besides, I’m more worried about seeing your parents than I am about seeing mine,” he says.

  “Eh, don’t be.” I rest my head on his chest again. “They’re so excited. Mom’s probably annoying flight attendants with stories of me, me, me as we speak.”

  He chuckles as the door opens and closes again downstairs. “Good.”

  Thad stumbles back up the stairs with the constant tap of Stinky’s paws darting beneath him. “Careful…” he warns her. “Please don’t kill me, girl.”

  Max and I laugh as Thad appears in the bedroom door again. Thad kicks off his shoes and peels his shirt off, passively dropping it to the floor along with his pants.

  “Tag me in, dude,” he says. “I’m freezing.”

  “I need to shower anyway.” Max kisses me on the lips, soft and sweet, before extending his hand upward into the air.

  Thad smacks it as Max quickly rolls out of my reach, leaving the warm place beside me completely empty for him. I open my arms and Thad hops into place, snuggling up with me beneath the thick, over-sized comforter on our bed.

  I watch Max’s bare ass as it disappears into the bathroom. The moment he’s gone, Thad hooks a finger under my chin and guides my attention to him instead.

  He kisses me on the lips, firm and true. “Alone at last,” he says with a wink.

  I rest my head on his thick chest and smile, warmth cascading through me from my head to my toes.

  Ya know. This really might just be the best Christmas ever.

  2

  Thad

  There’s no better feeling than knowing that you’re right where you belong.

  It has taken me years to figure that out. For most of my adult life, I rejected the status quo and considered the clouds my family. Not that I had much in the name of family to begin with, unless you count an absent-minded father who wanted nothing to do with me (and made sure to say that to my face after my high school graduation when he kicked me out).

  For years, it was just me, the clouds, and my best friend, Max. He stuck by me through all of it. Even offered up a place to crash whenever I needed it. No questions asked. If I called, he answered, and I returned the favor whenever I could. I thought nothing could ever come between us.

  I was wrong.

  Kind of.

  Phoebe Pink stands in the middle of the bathroom the three of us share wearing nothing but a bath towel tightly wound around her naked body. She bends over with another towel in her hands and furiously rubs her scalp to dry her dripping red locks.

  I pause in the doorway and bite my lip. Her back is to me, leaving her covered rump on display. Doesn’t take much in the realm of my imagination to picture what this view would be like without the towel. Maybe Santa will grant me a Christmas wish and her towel will fall to the floor. Or I can just walk over and do it myself…

  “Thad?”

  I clear my throat. “Yeah?”

  Phoebe shifts around and glances at me. “What are you looking at?” she asks with a chuckle.

  “Oh, silly pinky,” I say. “You know what I’m looking at.”

  She scoffs as she stands and tosses her towel down on the bathroom counter. “Didn’t get enough this morning?”

  “How many times am I going to have to explain this?” I quip. “There is never — and I mean never — enough of you.”

  She laughs with rolling eyes. “Well, be that as it may, I’m not sure there’s enough time to mess around. My parents land in an hour and there’s still so much to do...”

  I shrug. “Like what?”

  “Like, putting the new sheets on the guest bed,” she says, listing it off on her fingers. “And folding up the towels and putting them in the guest bathroom. All things I was supposed to do this morning but apparently you and Max’s penises have developed a Pavlovian response to my alarm clock.”

  “We regret nothing.”

  She playfully glares at me.

  I laugh. “Okay, you focus on getting pretty, all right? I will make up the guest bed and fold the towels.”

  Her head tilts, brow sharply cocked. “You saying I’m not pretty right now?”

  I bite my cheek. “That’s not what I meant. And you know it.”

  She smirks, so dang proud of herself. “Yes, I do.”

  “Stop trying to put my foot in my mouth.” I point a stern finger. “I’ll bump you up to an eight on the roughness scale, so help me...”

  She feigns a full-body shudder. “Oooh, and what makes an eight an eight, Mr. Hemsley?” she asks.

  “My dick in your ass, that’s what.”

  Phoebe snorts and throws her hair towel at me.
I catch it easily and whip it up before tossing it in the hamper by the door.

  “Go,” she says, shooing me away. “I’ll come help as soon as I’m pretty.”

  “All right. Sheets in the laundry room?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I take off toward the hallway, more than happy to help her out. Phoebe has been excited about this visit for weeks. I can’t say I can relate. I haven’t spoken to my father in nearly four years and it’s been ten since I’ve seen him face-to-face. My holidays are usually spent with chosen-family which, up until this year, included Max and… that’s about it. Now that Phoebe is in my life, that list has doubled.

  And let’s not forget Stinky.

  I rush down to the ground floor and head toward the laundry room just beyond the kitchen. The new sheets are folded up there, just as Pheebs said they would be. I bend over to open the dryer and scoop out the towels waiting to be folded.

  With them carefully stacked in a tall pile, I pick them up and take them upstairs to the third-floor guest room.

  I hear the adorable tap of Phoebe’s shoes on the stairs before I’m halfway done fitting the sheets. She plows into the room and I pause, instantly as taken with her as I’ve been every day of the past year. And now, just like every other time, I kick myself for not seeing her sooner.

  High school Thad was an idiot.

  I won’t make the same mistakes he did.

  Phoebe stops at the foot of the guest bed and presents herself. “How do I look?” she asks.

  I smile as I fit a pillowcase onto a naked pillow. She’s dressed casually with a black blouse and a pair of blue jeans to match my jeans and sweater. Her red hair sits over her shoulders, lightly curled on the ends. Face pristine. Lips plump and pink.

  I swoon.

  “Perfect,” I say.

  She forces a chuckle as she walks around the bed, smoothing out the fitted sheet with one hand as she moves. “You always say that.”

  “I always mean it.”

  Her cheeks burn. My perfect Phoebe Pink.

  “I just want everything to go smoothly,” she says.

  “They will.” I flip open the comforter and she snatches the other side to help stretch it across.

  “I know.” She exhales hard as she bends down and irons out the lumps with her palms. “But I’m gonna need you to remind me of that again over the weekend. Like, a lot.”

  “Every hour on the hour,” I say as I stack the pillows at the top. “I’m your man.”

  “Thank you.”

  She leans over to flatten the bedspread again while my eyes shamelessly travel her curves. Usually, if I stare at her long enough, her gray eyes will flick in my direction and I’ll flash a wink, making a little blood rush to those cheeks but she doesn’t look up. She just rolls her palm on the blanket again. And again. And again.

  “Uh, Pheebs?” I ask as I sidle closer.

  “Hmm?”

  “I think it’s good.”

  She pauses and slowly stands up. “My freak-out is more obvious than I thought, isn’t it?” she asks.

  “A little,” I say.

  Her hands lock at her sides. “They’ve never been here before.”

  I nod. “I know.”

  “We’ve never even had house guests before — besides Jackie, of course.”

  “You speak truths.”

  “This is our safe place.” Her hands twitch on her lap. “Where we can just be us, you know? So, yeah. I’m freaking out.”

  I smile. “You don’t need to.”

  “Yeah, but I am.”

  She tilts forward to flatten the blanket again and I sigh.

  “Phoebe.”

  “What?”

  With one quick motion, I take her into my arms and toss her down onto the bed. Phoebe breaks into instant laughter only to cringe as I follow her down and balance on top of her.

  “It’s wrinkled again,” she says.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I say before kissing her on the lips.

  She goes silent beneath me, relaxing and parting her stiff mouth for my tongue. Her chest trembles, rippling as eager and wild as the night when I first touched her.

  “Everything,” I whisper, “is going to be fine.”

  She smiles. “You think so?”

  “Under my watch? You bet your beautiful ass.”

  I crush my lips on hers as she laughs. A subtle vibration tickles my thigh and she places a hand on my chest to guide me away.

  “Hold that thought,” she says as she reaches into the front pocket of her jeans. She pulls out her phone and swipes the screen. “Going in,” she reads aloud. “Wish me luck.”

  “Max?” I ask.

  She nods. “He’s up against the beast today.”

  “He’ll be fine. Max knows what he’s doing.”

  Her thumbs tap out a message. “Good luck,” she reads. “I love you. Kiss emoji.”

  She hits send and tosses the phone down above her head, effortlessly shifting her focus right back to me. Our lips lock once more but I ease back an inch as my thoughts get the better of me.

  “You know I love you, right?” I ask.

  Phoebe hums pleasantly. “Of course. Why?”

  “I just…” I hesitate, feeling stupid. “I can’t help but notice that you and Max say it. A lot.”

  Her head tilts. “Thad.”

  “Like, a lot more than we do.”

  “And you think that means something?”

  “Doesn’t it?” I ask.

  She curls her arms around my neck, pulling me closer. “It means…” she kisses the edge of my mouth, “that you and I say it differently than me and Max do.”

  “We do?”

  She nods. “Max doesn’t leave little poems for me to find under my pillow. And I don’t think about him every time I hear a plane fly over my head.” Her lips graze mine. “That’s all you, baby.”

  I smile. “Oh, yeah?”

  “I look up into the sky,” she says, “and I always think about you… showing up at my loft at two in the morning looking for a place to stay.”

  I chuckle, utterly bewitched. “I did do that.”

  “You could have gone anywhere.” Our noses touch. “But you came to me.”

  “Of course, I did.”

  “And today, you go up into the sky and you can go anywhere you want. But still, you come home to me.”

  “Of course, I do.”

  “I think about that and I love you,” she says. “I think about how out of all the girls in the world, you love me.”

  I kiss her, unable to hold it in another moment. She gently caresses my face as she kisses me back with the lightest chuckle in her throat.

  “I love you, Thad Hemsley,” she whispers. “Especially your poems.”

  I laugh. “What can I say? You inspire me.”

  “Maybe someday I’ll have enough to make a book out of them.” She bites her lip. “Might even convince you to let me publish it.”

  I exhale. “Maybe someday. But not today.”

  Phoebe nods, her smile dimpling her cheeks and bewitching even more. I crumble into her, wrapping my arms around her as I kiss her again. She runs her fingers through my hair, sparking a deep need down my spine to feel her, taste her, take her.

  I glide a hand down her body, reaching for the zipper on her jeans.

  “No, no...” she says, playfully grabbing my wrist. “We just made this bed.”

  “We’ll re-make it,” I say, heat rising between us.

  “The sheets are clean,” she argues. “And I’m pretty! See? So pretty.”

  “You’ll still be pretty when I’m done with you.”

  She jokes and plants her palms against my chest. “Thad...”

  I laugh, easing up. “Okay, okay. My hands are officially to myself… until the next minute I get you alone.”

  Her phone vibrates against the bed again. She reaches for it and puts on a happy face as she reads the screen. “It’s my dad,” she says.

  I push of
f the bed. “Get off my daughter. Message received, Mr. Pink.”

  Phoebe laughs as she stands up, quickly composing herself before answering and tapping speakerphone. “Hey, Dad,” she says.

  “Hey, Phoebe,” a now-familiar male voice answers.

  “Hi, Mr. Pink!” I say.

  “That’s Thad,” Phoebe says with a chuckle. “Are you calling from the air? We’re just about to head to the airport—”

  “Actually, Phoebe, we...” He hesitates for a moment. “We’re not coming, honey.”

  I pause as Phoebe’s smile tilts down.

  “You’re not?” she asks. “Is everything okay? Did something happen to Mom?”

  “No, your mom’s fine. We’re both fine. We just... We can’t make it this year, that’s all.”

  I take a step closer as more confusion fills her face.

  “But... you said you were coming.”

  “I know we did, honey, but something has come up.”

  “Like what?”

  Finally, he sighs and his voice hardens. “Phoebe, we can’t support this.”

  She blinks twice. “Support... what?”

  My chest clenches. I’ve been the receiving end of this disappointed parent tone plenty of times before. “Pheebs,” I whisper, “hang up.”

  She ignores me. “I’ve been in New York a year,” she says. “Why didn’t you say something before?”

  “It’s not where you’re living, honey,” he says. “It’s how. This lifestyle you’ve chosen is…”

  Her face falls even more. “Lifestyle? You mean...”

  “Phoebe, how can you expect us to come visit you while you’re living with those men?”

  “Pheebs,” I say again.

  She turns away from me. “Those men are my boyfriends, Dad.”

  “It’s not normal, honey.”

  “They love me. And I love them. What’s more normal than that?”

  “We’re sorry,” he says again, though I really doubt it. “We’ll talk again after New Year’s.”

  “Dad—”

  He hangs up. Phoebe stands still for several silent moments with her phone perched on her hand.