An Unexpected Gift (Insta-Spark Book 4) Read online

  "I've never had a stocking before."

  "Ever?"

  I shook my head. "No. Lots of gifts, but never stockings." I looked at her sadly. "I didn't think to make you one."

  She smiled. "I got one once. It was my favorite Christmas. I-I just wanted to make you one." She pushed it toward me. "Open it!"

  It was full. Chocolate, socks, small puzzles, candy, and other items came out as I delved into it. Each one made me smile. Each item earned her a kiss. When it was empty, I pulled her onto my lap and showed her my own version of a full Christmas sock. I couldn't get enough of her mouth or her warmth. Joining with her was perfection. I groaned my orgasm into her neck, while she cried out her pleasure loudly.

  Laughing and sated, we sipped coffee and ate toasted bagels sitting at the counter, then grabbed more coffee and entered the living room. Holly tried to hide her delight, but her eyes were dancing when we sat down by the tree. I loved seeing the expression of excitement on her face, knowing I had helped put it there. I handed her a gift, watching with barely suppressed enjoyment as she opened it. She took her time, relishing the process of unwrapping the gift slowly. Her smile of delight at the deep blue cashmere scarf and mittens was heartwarming. Her kiss warmed other parts of me.

  She sighed in pleasure at the bath products Leslie helped me pick out, assuring me they were Holly's favorite scent. Holly immediately pulled out the hand lotion, insisting on testing it out not only on herself but me as well. I teased her, telling her it smelled far better on her.

  I swallowed nervously handing her the last gift. The one I really wanted to give her and hoped she would accept.

  She took it, eyeing the small, narrow box warily. She opened it with great care.

  "Evan!" she gasped.

  Smiling, I lifted the delicate handmade aquamarine necklace from the box. The color of the stone reminded me of her eyes, and I wanted to see her wear it. Surrounded by pearls, the gem was lovely and unique—just like she was. It looked perfect, nestled on her collarbone.

  "It's so beautiful." Her kiss was warm and lingering. "I'll wear it every day." Another kiss followed. Her voice dropped, tinged with sadness. "I'll think of you when I wear it."

  Before I could respond, she pushed a box into my hands. It was a large package, and I was filled with curiosity. I took my time opening the box and paused as I saw the contents. I ran my fingers over the smooth finish of the beautifully carved set of angel wings nestled in the tissue paper. I had seen and admired them in Leslie’s store the day before. I had even chatted for a short time with the old man who had carved them, watching as he worked on another piece in the corner of the shop where he did his carving. I enjoyed wood carving, but my figures were nowhere near the delicate beauty of his. I had held these up and thought how great they would look over my fireplace, but then put them down, distracted by a question sent my way. Holly must have seen me look at them and gone back to get them for me. I remembered her casual remark of having errands to run in the afternoon. I could take them with me, and the memory of what they represented would stay with me always.

  My Angel. Holly.

  I smiled at her. "They're exquisite."

  She returned my smile sweetly, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I saw you looking at them yesterday," she confirmed. "I thought maybe they would help you remember this Christmas."

  My breath caught. I pulled her face close to mine. "I'll never forget this Christmas. I'll never forget you, Angel." My mouth covered hers, parting her lips and kissing her with all the emotion I was feeling. She returned my kiss with the same intense emotion. I pulled her closer so she was straddling my lap. She tugged on my hair as she whimpered softly. When we pulled back, I felt the loss of her warmth.

  "There's one more," she whispered as she reached under the tree and handed me a long, heavier package. I leaned back, unwrapped the box and frowned. "Holly, it's too much."

  "No," she insisted. "I heard you talking to Lionel about carving, and when I went back, he told me to tell you to get these chisels. He says they're the best. I asked him where to purchase them and he had an extra set, so I bought them off him."

  "Holly—"

  "Please accept them," she begged. "It means a lot to me. I could hear how much you enjoyed doing this while you spoke to Lionel, and I wanted to give you something useful for your hobby." Her smile was shaky. "Maybe you could make me something."

  My gaze flew to hers.

  “Mail it to me,” she murmured.

  I set aside the box. I had her in my arms again, lifting her, kissing her as I carried her down the hall, already feeling the pain of leaving her.

  The morning was going too fast.

  And there was nothing I could do to stop it.

  She was so right in my arms. We fit together perfectly, and I wanted to lose myself in her forever. My mouth and hands memorized her taste, the feel of her silky skin. Her breathy, longing whisper of my name would forever be etched into my memory.

  Being buried inside her heat was ecstasy. My mouth never left hers as I rocked, taking my time and loving her thoroughly. Her name fell like a prayer as I whispered it against her softness, my orgasm washing over me like a warm tidal wave, cresting and leaving me boneless.

  I gathered her against me, holding her tight, fighting back unexpected tears. This was the last time I would make love to her.

  My Angel.

  How could I walk away from her?

  It was time. I sat on the edge of the bed and tied my sneakers, my stomach knotted and my throat aching with suppressed emotion.

  Holly was already in the living room, waiting for me. I knew she had put my gifts in the trunk of the car while I showered.

  Our separation had already begun.

  With a sigh, I pulled on my coat. I didn't want to leave, but I knew the longer I stayed and drew out our goodbye, the harder it would be for both of us.

  I hadn't planned on this.

  My trip to see my family had taken an unexpected detour, and now I wasn't sure I wanted to get back on the road I had started on only a few days earlier. It didn't feel right.

  But Holly was correct. I had to go see my family, finish what I started. Once that was done, regardless of the results, I had a life waiting for me. She was still looking for hers. We had two separate paths.

  It was time to leave.

  I walked soundlessly into the living room. Holly was standing at the window, her back to me, her posture rigid.

  "The weather forecast is good. No snow," she said, her voice sounding thick.

  I stood behind her, my own throat aching. "Holly—"

  "Don't. Thank you…for everything. You made this lonely time of year so unexpectedly wonderful for me."

  I turned her around, slipping my fingers under her chin. "You did the same for me, Angel."

  Our eyes locked. Her warmth and caring shone through the dampness I saw there. I pulled her into my arms, wanting her closeness. We stood silent and wrapped around each other. I didn't want to move.

  I didn't want to leave.

  "You have to go," she murmured.

  I tightened my arms.

  "Go see your family. Show them how wonderful you are."

  I shook my head. "I doubt that is going to happen at this point. I'm hoping for a civil visit at best."

  Her eyes were intense as she tilted up her head and met my gaze. "Try, Evan. You’re so special. Show your family the person you are. Let them see how special. If they can't, it's their loss. But at least you tried. Then you can go back to your life and move on. But try."

  "Holly, I—”

  "May I ask a favor?" she interrupted me. I realized she wanted to send me off with a smile. I knew she didn't want me to say or do anything that would make my leaving more difficult on either of us. So, I smiled and nodded at her, masking my sadness.

  "Anything."

  "Will you call or text me—just let me know you got there?"

  I pulled her closer. "Yes."

  "Evan—"
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  I kissed her. Long, slow, deep. I wanted her taste in my mouth for the long miles ahead. I wanted to smell her lovely scent on my skin. I wanted to burn the memory of her eyes and the way they looked at me into my brain forever. Nobody ever looked at me the way Holly did. I doubted anyone ever would again.

  When we broke apart, the air was heavy. Her eyes glistened under the lights, and I felt a tear run down my cheek.

  How could I feel so deeply for someone I had only just met? Why was she so insistent that I had to leave? I could stay and forget about my family. We could talk about us instead, maybe figure out a way of seeing each other again. Thoughts and ideas swirled in my mind, but before I could say them out loud, Holly stepped back, breaking the silence.

  "You have to go."

  I reached out and dragged her back to me. I held her close, kissing the top of her head, unable to speak. Finally, she pulled back. "Text me," she ordered.

  I smiled despite the sadness I was feeling. Ms. Bossy was back.

  My voice trembled as I spoke. "Holly—"

  She shook her head, her voice firm. "Be happy, Evan."

  She wanted me to leave. I had no choice.

  I touched her one last time. One last kiss. One last glance. "You as well, Angel."

  I couldn't look back as I shut the door behind me.

  7

  Evan

  I pulled up in front of my parents’ house. It was decorated with an understated elegance that spoke of money and class. And of being done by a company for hire. It was all about appearance, not for the love of the season. I couldn’t even begin to imagine my father on a stepladder hanging lights, or my mother helping him.

  When one was a Brooks, one simply didn’t do manual labor. You hired that out.

  No wonder they were disappointed in me.

  I was the manual labor.

  I shook my head, trying to clear the melancholy that had settled in my body since leaving Holly. She had been right—I needed to come and see my family and explore the chance of having a relationship with them—any of them. Given the fact that my sister now had a child, perhaps she would be more open to staying in touch. Maybe she would be happy to see me, and we could forge some sort of bond.

  I ignored the small voice in my head that informed me perhaps pigs would fly tomorrow.

  I stepped from my car, grabbed the bag of gifts from the trunk, straightened my shoulders, and approached the front door. I rang the bell and waited. I wasn’t sure who was more shocked when the door opened—my mother seeing me standing on the doorstep, or me seeing her answer the door. She had people who did that for her.

  Her greeting, however, didn’t disappoint.

  “Evan,” she said with a frown. “What are you doing here? We weren’t expecting you.”

  I forced a smile. “Merry Christmas, Mother. Surprise!”

  Her eyebrows rose in annoyance. There was no smile, no return salutation, and no hug.

  She stepped back. “Well, you may as well come in. I don’t want to let too much cold air inside.”

  I tamped down my disappointment. The house might be warmer inside, but the atmosphere was as frosty as the winter weather I left behind as the door shut.

  “What do you mean, you don’t have a dinner jacket?” My mother’s voice was shocked and appalled. I noticed her facial expression didn’t change a lot, leading me to think some Botox was working overtime under her skin.

  I shifted in my chair, uncomfortable and tense.

  “As I said before, my lifestyle doesn’t require a lot of dressing up, Mother.”

  “You don’t own a suit?” Her voice rose at the end of the sentence as if not owning a suit should be a crime.

  “Yes, I do. But as I said earlier, this was a last-minute decision, and I didn’t think to pack it. I was simply trying to get here to spend the holidays with you. A suit never crossed my mind.”

  She sniffed. “Showing up on Christmas Day is leaving it rather late. You could have planned better, Evan. You always were bad at time management.”

  I counted to ten. “I told you I experienced car trouble.”

  Kelsey glanced toward the window. “What year is that Buick? Maybe you need a newer, better car.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Surely you can afford one.”

  I held back my sigh. My surprise appearance had been greeted with nothing but annoyance and barely concealed contempt. As I suspected, my gifts were opened then discarded. They had disappeared at some point, and I had no idea where they went. Although I’d expected it, I was stunned at the level of indifference to the items I had chosen for them. Holly, I knew, would be devastated if she saw how they had been received.

  My hopes that my sister had tempered with motherhood dissolved quickly. My niece, Mia, was looked after by a nanny, and, after some staged photos of the family by the tree, had been whisked away to another part of the house. I was allowed to hold her, but only briefly. I sat with her cradled in my arms, admiring her sweetness, and talking softly to her before she was taken away. There was no doubt they didn’t want her odd uncle to have much contact with her.

  “My car is two years old, Kelsey. I don’t need to replace it yet. I rarely drive it since I use my work SUV most days. I need a bigger vehicle for transporting furniture.”

  She and my mother made a face at my statement. I wasn’t sure if it was the thought of me driving a work SUV or the work I did. Neither would meet their standards.

  “You will have to wear one of your father’s jackets for dinner,” my mother announced and stood. “Now I have to go see about the seating arrangements. Your presence makes the table an odd number, Evan. It is most inconvenient.”

  She walked from the room, shaking her head and muttering under her breath. Kelsey met my gaze with a cool glance and followed.

  I let my head fall forward.

  An inconvenience. That was all I was to them. Other than his terse greeting, my father had ignored me except to remind me once more that my life was wasted. My brother sat in the corner, a drink in hand every moment, watching the entire debacle with a smirk on his face. I wondered if anyone else noticed the amount of alcohol he was imbibing. Surprisingly, my brother-in-law, Simon, seemed like a decent sort of guy, but Kelsey interrupted him every time we began to talk. He kept trying, but when she became irate, he gave up and, with a resigned look, left the room. I didn’t see him again until dinner, and we sat at opposite ends of the table. I did wonder briefly what a nice guy like him was doing married to Kelsey, but it was a question I knew I would never have an answer for. He, at least, seemed to care for his daughter. Aside from me, he was the only one who held her and appeared upset when she was removed from the room. I had a feeling there was a story there.

  My brother and father had disappeared into my father’s study as soon as the gifts were done. I was not invited to join them. I had sat, as an observer only, watching them open their presents, noting with interest Simon didn’t participate. There had been nothing for me, of course, since I wasn’t expected, and I was ignored as they opened their over-the-top gifts, exclaiming over cruise tickets, custom-made suits, expensive liquor, and jewelry none of them needed, but wanted to have—simply for show. I tried not to feel slighted thinking of the fact that all I received at Christmas every year, this one included, was a card—not even personally signed.

  I rubbed a hand over my weary eyes.

  This had been a mistake of epic proportions.

  I stood and climbed the steps to the guest room I had been given, albeit grudgingly. I needed a nap and a shower. In my room, I checked my phone. I had texted Holly and let her know I’d arrived, and I had hoped to hear from her. There was only one line waiting for me.

  Glad you’re safe. Remember what I said, Evan. Show them who you are.

  I shook my head. They didn’t want to know me, and they couldn’t care less about the person I was. I would never fit into their world and mine made them uncomfortable.

  I lay down, sadness engulfing me. The wish t
hat I was beside Holly tugged at my chest. The thought of her filled me with a longing I had never experienced. I never should have left her.

  Dinner was an awkward event as I sat in my borrowed jacket, listening to the talk that swirled around me in a roomful of strangers. I was rarely included in the conversation, so I spent the time instead thinking of the vast difference in the dinner with my family and their friends, compared to the one I’d shared with Holly the night before in her tiny kitchen. That small room had been filled with warmth and laughter. My parents’ large, opulent room, lit with candles and heavy with the overpowering stench of hothouse flowers, was as cold and fake as the people in it. There I was, nothing more than the son who was constantly lacking, but whose presence had to be tolerated. Last night, I had been the center of Holly's small world.

  I far preferred that role.

  But I kept my promise to Holly and myself. I attempted to break through to them, but I failed. The following day was fraught with tension, and no matter how innocently a conversation started, it became hostile and turned into an argument. Finally, my father and I exchanged heated words over my choices in life, and for the first time ever, I stood up to him. I used Holly's words when I informed him it was my life—not his. I was happy, enjoyed my work, and my quiet life. He made sure I understood exactly how he felt and what an utter failure I was in his eyes.

  After they had settled for the night, I grabbed my things and left, going through the kitchen to the back where they had asked me to park my car. Something bright caught my eye, and I was horrified to find the bag of gifts I had brought beside the garbage can. The symbolism wasn’t lost on me. My gifts were worth nothing to them. Nor was I. I took them with me, knowing there were many people who would appreciate them back home.

  Because Nova Scotia was my home now—not here. It never really had been.

  I felt only relief as I left the house, and I knew they would feel the same way when they woke and found me gone. I no longer had to try or to spare them another thought. The only sadness I felt was at the fact that Mia would be brought up among such cold people. I feared she would become like them, and it bothered me, not that I could do anything to prevent it. I knew she wouldn’t be allowed any contact with me. Silently, I wished her much luck, determined if she ever reached out, to be there for her.