Keep Us: A Grayson Holiday Novella (The Grayson Sibling #3) Read online

  For the Grayson family the holidays have always been a time of togetherness.

  Eat, drink, and be merry is their motto, but not this year . . .

  With Marcus and Riley knee deep in their flourishing careers, their spouses, Tessa and Beck, have been decking the halls and dashing through the snow without support from the busy Grayson duo. A new baby is on the way for one of these ladies and she hasn’t even had the chance to tell the daddy; plans for a huge holiday feast are up in the air because priorities are out of whack; unexpected visitors and a bomb of a surprise from Mr. Grayson—it’s safe to say this holiday will be far from jolly.

  Tempers are high, feelings are bruised, and it’s not something spiked eggnog can cure. Will Marcus and Riley make it home for the holidays or will Tessa and Beck be forced to ring in the New Year alone?

  Keep Us

  Copyright © 2015 by Faith Andrews

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Except the original material written by the author, all songs, song titles and lyrics contained in the book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.

  Cover designed by:

  Najla Qamber Designs

  Interior design and formatting by:

  Christine Borgford, Perfectly Publishable

  Table of Contents

  Keep Us

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  About the Author

  Books by Faith Andrews

  Tessa

  “Claire, get off your cousin! His face is turning blue!”

  “It’s o . . . kay, Mom. She’s . . . just . . . playing.” My son gasps for air as my niece tightens her grip around his neck, riding atop his back like he’s a pony. They usually play together so nicely, even if a little too rough at times, but I’m not in the mood for a visit to the ER on the eve of Thanksgiving. Not with all the prepping and cooking I have ahead of me.

  “Luca, game’s over.” I rush to them, prying Claire’s tiny fingers from his flesh. She jumps off him, only to tangle her arms around my waist with a rather powerful squeeze for a three year old.

  “Aun-tee, I wuv you. Can you be the pony now?” Claire’s adorable innocence almost makes me forget that Luca’s collapsed in a ball at my feet.

  “I love you too, but I don’t have time for pony and I think you killed Luca man.”

  “Uh, oh!” She pouts, wiggling out of my grip. “Wooka, you okay?” She stoops next to him, patting his back.

  My son looks up, panting, and smiles a toothless grin that warms my heart. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Pony’s fine, Claire Bear, but let’s go watch TV instead. That stup—I mean silly show you like with the talking fish is on.”

  Luca’s too proud to admit that it’s one of his favorites too, but for Claire he’d do anything so it wouldn’t matter if he hated it. “You’re a good boy, Luca. Go teach little miss devil some pointers.”

  With the way-too-mature-for-his-age charm, he winks at me over his shoulder and then grabs the raven haired terror’s hand to lead her inside. The partners in crime walk off to the living room and climb onto the couch. Claire sticks her thumb in her mouth and rests her head against Luca’s shoulder, getting comfortable.

  All is right in our Grayson household . . . for now, of course. My sister-in-law, Riley, is out of town again and her husband Beck has been working back to back shifts at the firehouse. I never mind looking after their daughter Claire, but with Marcus super busy at work—aka taking over the world, one designer underwear company at a time—I’ve been holding down the fort. Barely.

  I breathe in an exasperated sigh and look down at my non-existent baby bump. I forgot how exhausting the first trimester is, and keeping this secret has been even more tiresome. I shrug off the drowsiness and smile while I daydream about our holiday surprise.

  “Are you the little sister your big bro wants so badly?” Even though she’s pint size trouble, Luca loves Claire something fierce. A sister of his very own would make the kid’s whole year. Already picturing her, I can’t help but wonder what our daughter would look like. If she has Marcus’s drop dead gorgeous features—she’ll be a stunner. But before I can dwell on who this baby will resemble, a wave of disappointment washes over me. Why? Because I haven’t had time—or the right moment—to tell Marcus he’s going to be a daddy. I mean, he’s already Luca’s father, even if he doesn’t share his blood. But regardless of how much he loves Luca, this child was created from our love. More precisely, our hot quickie on the back of his motorcycle that night we had Riley and Beck babysit Luca so we could have alone time.

  Prickles of pleasure coat my skin as I remember how intense our lovemaking was underneath that brisk October evening sky. That motorcycle has so many fond—and naughty—memories. He better never get rid of it.

  Luca’s giggles snap me back to reality and cause me to bite my lower lip to keep my over-alert body in check. Guess I forgot how sensitive my body was in the first trimester, too. I touch my stomach again, caressing it in tiny circles. “We’ll tell him tonight. I can’t keep it a secret forever. I just hope he isn’t too preoccupied.”

  Riley

  “Tell me again that I’m not the worst mother in the world for being away from my baby girl and the love of my life on Thanksgiving?”

  “Ry, it’s impossible for you to be the worst mother in the world. You’re the best. The sweetest. And did I mention . . . the hottest? You’re a fucking MILF, baby.”

  I laugh through the lump in my throat. Beck always has a way of making me smile, even when I want to cry. “I didn’t think it would bother me this much. When I signed up for the conference, I was being selfish. Now, I just want to get on a plane and eat Tessa’s turkey with you.”

  His voice drops to a sinful decibel. “That sounds kinda kinky, even for you.”

  “B, head out of the gutter,” I moan, yet a giggle escapes past the exasperation. “I’m serious. I miss you guys. This isn’t worth it.”

  “Listen to me,” Beck reassures me through the phone, an ocean away. “Remember what you told me last year, when I had to miss Thanksgiving?”

  “Shit happens?” I shrug, staring at the Eiffel Tower with disdain. I must be the only woman who’s ever not gazed at it with sparkles of wonderment in her eyes.

  “Well, besides that. It’s fucking dangerous, babe! Like last year when I had to put out that asshole’s blaze of glory after he tried to deep fry his goddamn turkey. I wanted to punch him in the nuts. Weird shit goes down on the holidays, but that’s not the point.”

  “Then tell me what is. Because no matter how wonderful of an opportunity this is for me, I’m missing you and my Claire Bear something awful and I just want to be home.” I’m one step away from stomping my feet like a toddler. He better come up with something to wash my guilt away and make this seem right.

  “There’ll be many more Thanksgivings, Ry. These are Claire’s firsts, but she won’t remember them. I know you’re hurting because you’re away, but as much as she misses you, she has her cousin, your brother and Tessa, and your old man to make this Than
ksgiving a special one.”

  It makes me feel the tiniest bit better. She’s so little, this won’t even be a memory. Besides, Tessa, Marcus and Luca are her main peeps away from home. She loves being with them so much, she’ll hardly have time to realize I’m missing. “I guess you’re right. Plus, she has her Daddy too.”

  “Yeah—about that.”

  “Oh, hells no! What do you mean?” I jump off the bed and start to pace. “You told me you’d be with her. I don’t want her spending the holiday with both her parents gone like some . . . some . . . orphan. I’m getting on the next plane home. I cannot believe—”

  “Whoa! Hold up. Before you fuck up your trip and go all psycho mommy on me, I volunteered to take the extra shift so I can have both Christmas and New Year’s off, Ry. I thought you’d be happy about that. I figured you wouldn’t mind since you weren’t here, anyway.”

  I hear the resentment in his tone even if he doesn’t want to admit it. Beck’s the most supportive husband there is. Always pushing me to follow my dreams and picking up the parenting slack so I can better myself and my business. But I’d be an idiot to ignore the way he just said that. I can’t guilt him for doing what’s best for him when I’ve never been told not to put myself first. It still stings, though.

  “Please don’t say it like that,” I beg. I don’t want a fight. It’s bad enough that I’m missing him, I don’t need him being pissed at me.

  A long sigh fills my ear. I picture him running his hands through his thick, black hair. “I’m sorry, babe. It’s just . . . I miss you too. This last year has been a tangled mess of juggling poor Claire. Tessa and Marcus are a godsend, but I think—I think we need to slow things down a bit in the new year. We should talk when you get back. Reevaluate. Settle in to the Mommy and Daddy roles and let work take a back seat and suck it.”

  It’s so much easier said than done, but he’s got a point. “It’s not the worst idea you’ve ever had. I agree. This will be the last getaway for a while. And now that I know you’ll be home for the holidays, how about we host? Give Tessa a break for a change?”

  “I think that sounds awesome. Christmas with the clan. It’ll be right out of a greeting card.”

  Yeah, right. “Knowing our family, it’ll be more like a sarcastic meme than a Hallmark.”

  Beck’s laughter fills my ears. The rest of our conversation is lighthearted and sweet. We even sneak in some not-so-sweet dirty talk to make the distance between us seem closer. When I close my eyes tonight, I’ll be thinking of my loving, sexy husband and my beautiful daughter with a longing that can’t be cured. The French don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, so I’ll be out of sorts without the traditional mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie. I should have never agreed to this, but choosing between my career and my family is not something I’ve mastered yet. Guess I’ve just made my first New Year’s resolution.

  Marcus

  “Gary, she ain’t gonna go for that. She’s all about tradition. And right now, she’s elbow deep up a turkey’s ass and you want me to tell her to cancel her Thanksgiving feast so we can freeze our asses off at the parade? No can do!”

  “The kids will love it! I have enough VIP tickets for all of you. Think about it, Marcus, this is a big deal. Everyone watches the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade and they’re giving you a special shout out and mini-interview. Housewives all over the city will be drooling over you and wanting to buy their husbands your fancy skivvies for Christmas. Other designers will be vying for you to model their latest lines. You’re doing this, with or without Tessa’s blessing, buddy. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

  I’ll give him a bursted bubble. I want to bust every single Thanksgiving float right now—including Charlie Brown and his stupid yellow shirt. “How the fuck am I supposed to tell her this? And now—so last minute? She’s home alone with my son and my niece. I can’t disappoint her like this, Gary. I’ve been gone enough as it is.” My amazing wife is more than supportive and understanding, but the holidays are the holidays. They’re supposed to be intimate and old-fashioned. Tessa loves having the whole family over, stuffing their faces with her gourmet cooking. It’s bad enough Riley’s out of town and Beck’s working. This won’t go over well.

  “I’m sorry, Marcus. Had I known sooner, I would have given you a heads up. This was a surprise for me too, but it’s a good one. We can’t say no.”

  Gary walks away and leaves me furious. Balling my fists, I growl, mad at myself that I didn’t see this coming. With bigger gigs come bigger opportunities. It’s all great for the long run and for the stability of my career, but my family matters most to me and I hate having to let them down.

  Mumbling like a madman under my breath, I pack up my duffel and head to my car with my cell phone in hand. My thumb hovers over her name, never actually making the call. I’m too much of a coward to do this to my girl. My wonderful pretty girl who has given me so much to be thankful for.

  Instead of disappointing her over the phone, I stop by the market on the way home and pick up the most expensive bouquet of flowers I can find. I know a bunch of crappy sunflowers and roses won’t make her abandon her feast and drag the kids out in the cold. I’ll just explain to her that I’ll make my appearance and be home as soon as I can. This is business. I hope she’ll understand.

  “Honey, I’m home!” It never gets old. I walk through the door, her guilt-gift hidden behind my back. The pit stop to the market ought to count for something, right?

  “Daddy! Daddy!” Luca barrels into my knees, nearly knocking me back out the door.

  I hug him as best I can with my hands full, and kiss him atop his shaggy head. “Hey, buddy. Where’s your cousin?”

  “Mommy’s putting her to bed,” he whispers, eyes wide.

  His expression tells me it was a long day. Fucking great! Telling her about the parade is gonna blow! “Claire that tough today, huh?”

  Nodding, he grabs the flowers from me, and jumps up and down as he smells them. “For Mommy?”

  “Yup. You can give them to her if you want. She deserves something nice after chilling with you rugrats all day.”

  He pouts, his lower lip protruding excessively. “Hey! I was good.”

  “I’m sure you were, Luca man. You always are. Come . . . wanna show me what smells so yummy in the kitchen?”

  Little man—who’s actually not so little anymore since he’s growing at the rate of Jack’s bean stalk—ushers me inside, licking his lips. “Pie! Lots and lots of pie.”

  I bolt to the oven and open the door, my eyes landing on four of my favorite, mouthwatering things in the entire world—besides my wife’s pussy, of course. “Oh, no she didn’t!”

  “Oh, yes she did,” Luca sings, rubbing his hands together.

  “Are they almost done? How long ago did she put them in?”

  “Not long enough for you to put your grubby hands on them, you animal.” Tessa’s voice startles me and Luca.

  “These are for you, Mommy! Daddy got them!” Luca pushes the flowers into Tessa’s hands, buying me some time.

  She smiles as she takes a whiff, but narrows her disapproving gaze on the hand I have on the oven door.

  Guilty as a cat with a mouse’s tail hanging from its choppers, I relent, close the door and raise my hands in the air. “Caught me! But I didn’t touch any of them. Not the apple . . .” My stomach growls. “The pecan . . .” My mouth waters. “Not the blueberry . . .” My eyes roll to the back of my head. “Or the . . . I can’t even say it! You know it’s my favorite.”

  She lays the bouquet on the table and with her hands on her hips, arching a brow with a devilish smirk. Picking up a covered dish, she lifts the foil and licks her lips. “Thanks for the flowers, babe. Can I interest you in some homemade pumpkin p—”

  “Gimme that!” I lunge for the plate, my heart skipping a beat. “You made one just for me? And you kept it secret, Luca man?” I sniff the pie, devouring its insanely fresh aroma, and eye my son for an explanation.

  He grins
. “I’m a good secret keeper.”

  “That you are,” Tessa agrees and taps Luca on the butt. I hear her whisper something to the tune of “just like Mommy,” but my brain is too hazy from the distraction of baked goodness in my hands.

  Leaning down to his height, Tessa pinches Luca’s cheek. “Why don’t you get your PJs on and then come down for a piece of pie and a glass of milk? A little pre-Thanksgiving treat before bed?”

  “Okay!” Luca sings, and then bounds up the stairs.

  “Thank you for this, pretty girl,” I say, with a mouthful of pie. “It’s delicious. As always.”

  She meets me at the counter, licking a piece of pumpkin from the corner of my mouth and claiming me with a kiss. “Yes. Definitely delicious,” she moans against my lips.

  “Pie and kisses? What the hell did I do to get so lucky?” My dick jerks in my pants, both from my wife’s sweet baking and her sinful sexual advances. “Can you get that kid to bed so we can—” I nearly forget that I have to break the news about the parade. I crack my neck from side to side, shooing away the stress.

  Distracting me from my worry, Tessa kneads my shoulders, biting her lip. “ . . . so we can talk, Marcus. The two of you can have your pie, I’ll get him in bed while you wash up, and then we need to talk.”

  Fuck! I didn’t expect this. I’m the one who has to drop the bomb. What’s this all about? “Everything okay?” I ask, gulping down a forkful.

  “Everything’s great.” Her face is hard to read, but I see a glimmer of excitement in her eyes, a smile lifting up the sides of her plump lips.

  I don’t want to spoil the moment, but I can’t pretend like I don’t have somewhere to be bright and early tomorrow morning. “Okay, good, because I have to talk to you too.”

  The excited sparkle that flickered in her eyes just seconds ago fades. “Now it’s my turn to ask if everything’s okay.”

  “It’s fine.” I shrug. “Just more work crap.” I set the plate down beside me. I don’t want to ignore what’s uneaten, but she deserves my full attention. Wrapping my arms around her, I kiss her neck, and speak into her soft skin. “Let’s get him to bed and we’ll talk while I help you cook whatever else you need to make for tomorrow.” I have no idea what I’m doing in the kitchen, but I offer to gain some bonus points. I’ll take whatever I can get right now.