Wrapped in Love (Boys of Jackson Harbor 4)

“God, I miss beer,” Ava whispers.

Jake winks at her. “Worth it.”

“True.” She blushes as his greedy eyes take her in, as if he hasn’t touched her in a month and they weren’t just caught making out in the kitchen thirty minutes ago.

Jake reluctantly tears his attention off his bride and turns to me. “Any luck on the house hunt?”

I shake my head. “None.”

“What are you going to do?” Ava asks softly.

I’m honestly surprised the news hasn’t already spread. Wildfire moves slowly compared to the Jackson family grapevine. “Brayden thought your idea made sense and offered to let Noah and I stay with him temporarily. I’m taking him up on it. Just until I can find something else. I told Noah this afternoon, and he’s thrilled about it.”

“Good.” Jake smiles at me. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Speak of the devil,” Ava says.

Brayden’s standing in the doorway, his hand on Noah’s shoulder. “Look who’s here.”

“Mama!” Noah shouts, rushing toward me.

Grinning, I turn in my seat, open my arms, and scoop him into my lap the moment he collides with my chest. “How was your day, Mr. Man?” I ask, burying my nose in his hair. He smells like his tear-free shampoo and Play-Doh.

“Ronica took me to the park, and I got to slide through the snow!”

I drop my jaw in an exaggerated show of surprise, even though Veronica ran the snowy park idea by me before she took him. “But it’s so cold out! And it snowed all day! Are you an ice cube?”

He shakes his head. “No, Ronica made me wear a hat.” He folds his arms and scowls. “I hate my hat.”

“I’m glad she did, or you’d be Frosty the Snowman.”

He giggles. “Would not.”

I feel Brayden’s eyes on us and look up. He’s smiling. Really smiling. Warmth rushes through me at the sight of it, and when his eyes lock with mine, everything around me goes quiet and all I can hear is the beating of my own heart.

“I hear you’re moving,” Ava says to Noah, and I could kiss her for the way she makes the word moving sound like the most exciting activity in the world.

Noah bounces on my lap and smiles at his aunt Ava. “We’re going to stay with Rayden for a while! He said I can even stay in his old bedroom on the very top floor!” He turns those beautiful brown eyes to me and wraps a little hand in my hair. “How long are we staying, Mama?”

“I don’t know exactly. Until after Christmas for sure.”

His face lights up, and he turns to Brayden. “We get to spend Christmas with you? You’ll be there when Santa comes?”

The room seems to go still, as if everyone around us is holding their breath.

Brayden’s gaze flicks to mine for a beat before he nods at Noah. “I will.”

“Will you help me open my presents?”

I tickle Noah’s side. “Hey, who said you’re getting presents this year?”

My boy doubles over, his sharp giggles filling the room. “I always get presents, silly.”

The conversation turns to holiday plans. Everyone is smiling and relaxed, but I notice that Shay isn’t smiling. No, Brayden’s sister is watching me like she’s a mama bear and I just stepped too close to her cubs.

Brayden

“You’re so much more badass than me,” Shay says. “I hate running in the snow.”

I tear my eyes off the glowing lights of my Christmas tree to survey my sister, who’s in the kitchen doctoring her coffee. It’s not even eight in the morning, but Shay was waiting in the kitchen when I got back from my run. I let her make coffee while I showered and got dressed. “I like running in the cold.” I shrug. “Clears my head.”

“You lost me at I like running. It’s a necessary evil as far as I’m concerned.”

I arch a brow. “You could work out with Carter and me at CrossFit if you hate running so much. You’d probably love it once you got going.”

She shudders, then pulls her mug against her chest as if it can protect her. “And get callouses on my baby-soft hands? I’ll pass.”

I laugh. I haven’t bothered to ask her why she’s here. I know she’s doing her typical sister thing and showing up to talk when no one else knows anything’s bothering me. Usually, I’m grateful for her eerie perception. Today, I’m not sure I’m up for it.

Taking a seat on the couch beside me, she holds her mug in both hands as she folds her legs under herself, and we sip our coffee for a while, enjoying the comfortable silence of the crackling fire and an otherwise empty house.

“Are you ready to give up this quiet?” she finally asks. When I arch a brow in question, she says, “The house won’t be this peaceful with a four-year-old living here.”