Chasing Christmas Eve

“Your mom sounds like she’s a really strong woman,” she said.

“She is.”

She shook her head. “My mom isn’t like that. For as long as I can remember, she’s been the victim, and she enjoys the role. I stepped in early because she needed me and . . . well, she’s never stopped needing me. Emotionally, financially, mentally.”

Her mom, who should’ve known better, had early on handed over her reins to Colbie, who’d been far too young to take it all on. But take it on she had, giving up her own childhood in the process. Spence was starting to understand the depth of her sense of responsibility, as a woman, a daughter, a sister, a writer. “Not your job,” he said.

“I know. And I never meant to create a codependent relationship, believe me,” she said. “I just wanted to help.”

“And you have. And more than with just your family.”

“You mean Jackson.”

“He cheated on you?” Spence asked, trying to get a bead on what she might still feel for this guy.

She blew out a breath. “I made more of what we had than it was. I had a very longtime crush on him and mistook friendship and business for love. It wasn’t.”

“And now he’s using that friendship and business to manipulate you into returning before you’re ready.”

She shrugged.

“Colbie . . .” He took her hand. “Don’t let it do a number on you.”

She laughed softly. “Baby steps.”

“Baby steps,” he agreed and kept ahold of her hand.

They ate, and when they were done, Spence pulled Colbie up.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Your list.”

“We did everything on my list,” she said and finally gave him a real smile.

He returned it. “There’s something you forgot to put on the list. Trust me?” he asked, not sure she would or why he wanted her to so badly.

But when she looked at his outstretched hand, nodded, and put hers in his, he felt like he’d won the lotto.

“What are we doing?” Colbie asked as Spence pulled the ’57 Chevy truck into traffic.

“You’ll see,” he said enigmatically.

Okaaay. Her phone buzzed.

Spence glanced over at her.

She sighed and pulled out her phone. “It’s a text from Kent. He wants to know how to run the washing machine.”

“Better late than never.”

She typed out a response and put her phone away. “Hope he separated his colors from his whites.”

“Rite of passage, making that mistake—which he’ll only do once.” Spence took a street that was a straight-up hill, the likes of which she’d never seen before, even in San Francisco, and that was saying something. They parked in a large lot that appeared nearly empty and then . . . they took a trail.

In the middle of the city. It was boggling.

She looked at Spence ahead of her, leading the way in his wrinkled cargos that fit across his very nice ass. He craned his neck and caught her ogling, flashing her a smile. He wore a backward baseball cap and his prescription aviator sunglasses lenses were dark.

The sexiest, hottest geek she’d ever seen.

“Where are we?” she asked, mesmerized by the 360-degree vista they had at the top, as well as the huge white concrete cross protruding out of the ground.

“Mount Davidson,” he said. “It’s the highest point in the city, which at 938 feet isn’t all that high compared to the rest of the planet but it’s what we’ve got.”

“And the cross?”

“People come here at Easter for an annual prayer service. They illuminate the cross.” He’d grabbed his beat-up duffle bag from his truck and worn it on a broad shoulder to walk up here. Now he opened it up and took out a small drone, along with a control panel.

It took him no more than two minutes to have the drone in the air, broadcasting to an iPad fitted to the controller. Colbie didn’t know what to look at first, the drone rising and dipping in the sky like an eagle, the tablet sending them the dizzying, glorious images in real time, or the man himself at the controls like he’d been born to it.

He stood there, feet spread to brace against the wind, concentrating on the tablet screen, monitoring the craft’s progress through its onboard camera.

And then he handed her those controls.

“What? No—” She tried to take a step back but he just shoved the controller in her hand and let go, so that if she didn’t take it, the thing would’ve fallen to the ground. And so would the drone, and she couldn’t even imagine how expensive it might be. “Some ditch! Spence!”

His head was tipped back, his gaze on the drone in the sky. “Going to want to accelerate between now and five seconds from now,” he said casually.

He was crazy. “I know your brain can handle like fifty things at once, but mine tops out at around two. Anything over that and it all shorts out.” She waggled her fingers beside her head in a gesture to indicate her brain was frying.

He laughed.

The drone pitched violently and she gasped in horror. “Help me!” She actually felt her legs wobble with anxiety, so she dropped to her knees.

Spence crouched down behind her, wrapping his arms around her, putting his hands over hers, expertly flicking at the controls to adjust the flight. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck and she suddenly found it difficult to think of anything else. She was so incredibly aware of him, and unbidden came a flashback of the last time he’d had his mouth on her neck. And where else that mouth had gone . . .

She wondered if they had time for a repeat.

“Later,” he promised, his mouth brushing her ear, sending her already raging hormones into overdrive. “Anything you want.”

She nearly dropped the remote but his big, sure hands were there to hold her steady. His chest was flush with her back, his arms surrounding her, his hands on hers as he guided her through the flight. She tried to concentrate, but her attention span was shot to hell. He smelled amazing—

“Focus,” he said.

She was focused. She was focused on how the fronts of his thighs were pressed against the backs of hers . . .

“Close out the world,” he said in her ear, pulling her to her feet. “Close out everything but this.”

She’d like to, but he’d lowered his head so that his whisker-rough jaw brushed against hers, playing havoc with her brain. Her breathing was still accelerated. But not Spence’s. Nope, he was breathing calm and even, making her want to change that—

“Colbie.”

“What?”

“Honey, you’re staring at me and you’re going to crash my very favorite drone.”

Dammit. She jerked her gaze off of him and felt his chest shake with silent laughter. Forcing her mind to clear, she turned her face to the sky and set her mind to determined concentration.

And the most amazing thing happened. Standing there braced against the light wind and cold air, with Spence at her back making her feel like she could do anything, she flew the drone. Up. Down. Sideways. In a loop . . .

It was the most exhilarating thing she could remember doing, well, other than Spence himself . . .

When they landed the drone together, they sat on what felt like the edge of the planet, looking down over the city, sharing a bottle of water from Spence’s backpack.

“Fun?” he asked.

“More than I could have imagined, but . . .” She laughed ruefully and slid him a sideways glance. “You do know this isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I asked you to get me out of that coffee shop.”

He took her hand and brought it to his mouth, taking a nibble out of her palm that had her sucking in a breath. “Maybe that’s coming next.”

“Maybe?” she asked breathlessly.

He squeezed her hand. “Do you always need to know the plan?”

“Always.”

“Okay, then,” he said agreeably, still looking out over their view. “My plan is to unblock you some more.”

Anticipation raced through her. “How exactly do you plan to do that?”

He met her gaze, his own so hot it stole her breath. Then he leaned in, his mouth at her ear as he told her his plan in slow, sexy, sensual, erotic detail, leaving her with a shiver that was nearly an orgasm.