Sweet Christmas Surrender

  Sweet Christmas Surrender

  By

  Dahlia Rose

  Sweet Christmas Surrender

  Copyright © January 2015 by Dahlia Rose Unscriped

  All rights are reserved.

  Smashwords Edition

  No part of this e-book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story line are created from the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously.

  ISBN: 978-1-939151-83-4

  Cover by For The Muses Designs

  Edited by Narielle Living

  Book design by Bob Houston eBook Formatting

  Chapter One

  You’d never think it was the Christmas season, especially in Los Alamos, New Mexico. Wes pulled off the jacket of his Air Force dress uniform and placed it neatly in the passenger seat of his Land Rover. It was official. In two weeks they’d be leaving for Afghanistan, and he’d be flying medical choppers for nine months. He had two weeks to close up his house and get his affairs in order. It wasn’t much of a big deal. His friend Gary would keep an eye on his house, and there wasn’t family to say goodbye to. It would be two or three beers with his friend the night before, and then he and his gear would be on base.

  He looked around as the sun set over the town. People still managed to make it look festive, with lights on the houses and that included the desert trees and plants. A cactus was even wrapped in lights, and his lips curved in a smile. That was a mission he would not have accepted. He walked into town, and the lights were also strung in trees outside restaurants and stores. Los Alamos boasted strip malls that hosted shops ranging from the sunglass hut to Louis Vuitton. Who needed a nine hundred dollar purse, he wondered and shook his head as he passed the outlandishly expensive store. The dry heat gave way to cooler temperatures at night. Afghanistan was the same way. This was his second tour, so he knew what to expect.

  Right now he was on a mission of his own. The Coffee Bean at the corner was his destination. He wanted his caffeine fix, yes, and to buy a few packs of his favorite dark roast for the house and for his pack that would be going with him in two weeks. But there was another reason. She sat in the corner with her laptop open, sipping chai tea from a very large cup, and staring at her computer screen intently. Sometimes she smiled or frowned, but she seemed uninterested in what was going on around her. No one met her, and he never saw friends, only her. She captivated him.

  Her black hair was pulled back in a soft ponytail, and she had a habit of brushing her long bangs from her forehead to one side. She worried one side of her lip sometimes when she was working, and it was definitely cute on those full lips. She wore lip-gloss, no lipstick, not that she needed it. Her lips were a soft rose color that complimented her ebony skin. If she did look up, her chocolate brown eyes were warm. She’d met his gaze once or twice and looked away shyly.

  Oh yeah, I have to know her. Wes walked up to the counter and ordered his usual and a chai tea for her. The barista was her usual friendly self, and for the holidays the little bells on her elf hat jingled merrily. He added in a blueberry scone for good measure and walked over to her table, balancing them all expertly in his hands. Her eyes widened in surprise when she looked up at him standing there, and he could swear she blushed shyly under that smooth, ebony skin.

  “I thought you may like a refill,” Wes said casually.

  “What if I say no?” she asked.

  A slow smile spread across his face. “Then I’d be stuck drinking chai tea after coffee, and I don’t think my caffeine would like that. Don’t make me find out, invite me to sit.”

  She smiled and his breath stilled for a moment. “Well, since you did go through the trouble, and I don’t want to see the effects you just described, sit.”

  She moved her computer to one side and he placed the chai tea down carefully then handed her the plate with the blueberry scone before he sat down.

  Wes held out his hand. “Sergeant Wesley Kent, United States Air Force, nice to meet you.”

  Her hand was soft when she shook his. “Christine Chapel, food blogger extraordinaire.”

  “Really?” He grinned. “Extraordinaire?”

  She shrugged. “After your introduction, mine needed some pizzazz.”

  Wes laughed. “You need no such thing, trust me. What does a food blogger do?”

  “I eat at different restaurants ‘round the country and sometimes internationally, then I write about my overall experience,” she explained.

  “Then I definitely need to know you.” Wes took a drink of his coffee. “I’m not known for my cooking skills, but I can man a mean grill. Maybe I should make you a steak sometime, and you can tell me how it is.”

  “What if I don’t like it and blog about how horrible it was?” she teased.

  He pressed his hand over his heart. “I’ll be forever wounded, probably won’t recover, and spiral into a depression from whence I’ll never return.”

  “Wow, dramatic.” She was smiling, and Wes counted that as a good thing. “Remind me to be gentle with you.”

  He winked. “Please don’t be gentle, I like it rough.”

  She fanned her face with a napkin suddenly and looked into her cup of tea. She was shy, he liked that, it was sweet compared to some of the women he’d met over the years.

  “So, about our date,” Wes hinted.

  “I haven’t said yes,” she pointed out.

  “But you’re going to,” he answered. “I’ve got two weeks before I deploy, and I want good memories of you to take with me.”

  “You move very fast,” Christine said.

  “Slow and steady wins the race, but sometimes the direct approach is best.” He took a long drink from his cup and watched her.

  “I don’t do rolls in the hay,” she said with a frown. “If that’s where you think this may be heading, for you to bust a nut before you leave, I’m going to have to disappoint you.”

  He laughed out loud at her words. She had fire, and that intrigued him even more. “I’m not that kind of guy.”

  “I wouldn’t know, I just met you. Don’t all military men say that and leave a bevy of broken hearts in their wake?” Christine asked.

  “Get to know me, and you’ll see I’m everything I claim to be, including a bad cook but excellent griller,” Wes said smoothly.

  “And if I don’t like what I find out?”

  “You can slap my face, call me a dirty liar, and then ruin my grilling reputation on your blog,” he replied.

  She nodded. “Okay, I’ll give it a whirl.”

  “Yeah?” He smiled widely.

  She wrote quickly on a piece of paper and ripped it from the legal notepad on the table. “My apartment address, pick me up at six, tomorrow evening.”

  “I’ll be there,” he said as she began to pick up her things. “Leaving already?”

  “Other commitments,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “I’m looking forward to it, Christine Chapel,” Wes said.

  She smiled. “Me too. Goodnight.”

  He watched her leave and admired the curve of her body as she moved. She fills out a pair of jeans rather nicely, he mused and she gave him a small wave from outside the window as she walked by. Wes raised his hand in acknowledgment and watched her get into her compact car. He’d dared after weeks of watching her, and it had paid off. He had a first date with Christine, and he planned to make it a second, third, and beyond.

  * * * *

  Christine had a smile on
her face until she parked by the fountain in the circular driveway. Since her mother had died she hated coming to the house. She amended that, she always hated the house and everything it stood for, including her father. Well, adopted father. Long ago she’d figured out she had been adopted for her mother to have something to love. As she got older she figured out she was a pawn in her father’s wheeling and dealing. Yet, like the dutiful daughter he begged her to be, she showed up for dinner every Wednesday and sat across from a man she’d learned to loathe. She walked into the foyer that spoke of opulence. The Spanish tile under her feet led to the spiral staircase that gracefully led upstairs. She was supposed to be grateful they adopted her when she was a baby.

  But her childhood saw more unhappiness than most people realized. Her father hid secrets, and none of them good. She stepped into the dining room, and he was already seated at the head of the table. She took her customary seat at the chair to the left of him. The chair to the right was empty, and she felt the ache grip her for the love she’d lost from the only mother she’d ever known. Her father looked at her as she sat, and she assessed him as well. His gray eyes were cold and his silver white hair was neatly combed. She knew to never let that fool her because he worked out and practiced martial arts. He liked to flaunt his strength. He didn’t scare her, much, but she was very wary of him. Leonard Chapel was a megalomaniac.

  “Christine,” he said and took a sip from his wine glass. “You’re late.”

  “I’m on time for me,” she answered. The housekeeper brought in dinner with a smile and she gave one in return. “Thank you, Dora.”

  “Was it because you’re having coffee with an Air Force man?” he said.

  She shook her head. “Wow, your people were close enough to see that, impressive.”

  “You know I have plans for you,” her father said. “That would be very lucrative to this family.”

  She met his gaze. “Your plans very rarely make me care or benefit anyone but yourself.”

  “Watch how you speak to me, little girl,” he said in a soft, deadly tone.

  She looked at him again. “Or what, you’ll cut off the money? I don’t use it, it’s in the bank account untouched. Take it.”

  “Obstinate little…”

  “Little what?” she asked. “Say it, Dad.”

  She spat the word “dad” out like it was poison, venom.

  “We should’ve left you at the foster home,” her father snarled.

  “I would’ve been happier,” Christine said bluntly. “Mom was the only good thing about being here.”

  “You’ll do as you’re told!” He slammed his fist on the table and everything clattered.

  “Or what?” she shot the question back. “You don’t dictate to me. I come here to honor mom’s request, not to see you.”

  “One way or another you’ll fall in line.” Her father calmed himself and cut into the tender meat of the roast beef in front of him. It always amazed her how the beast seemed to be easily quelled after one of his outbursts. “Now eat your dinner, it’s getting cold, daughter of mine.”

  That was when he most scared her, when he became calm and almost jovial. He asked her about work and then talked about his plans, the way families usually do. Except she knew what lurked beneath the surface and what Leonard Chapel could do when he was pushed.

  Chapter Two

  Christine waited with nervousness and excitement for Wes to show up. When she went home from dinner with her father it was with the intent to call off the next day. He didn’t know what he was getting into by asking her out, and certainly no man should have to deal with her father. As she waited for him to arrive she could see the black sedan with tinted windows parked across the street and knew that was her father’s security team. She’d moved away, and he still found a way to watch her. She hoped that when she told Wes he’d prefer to chance it and not run away. Anytime she mentioned her father’s name to a potential date, fear crossed their faces and the excuses began.

  She’d dressed in a simple periwinkle blue wrap dress that fell softly to her knees and was cut in a deep V-neck. Strappy matching heels were on her feet, and she wore diamond studs in her ears and the necklace she always wore. It was a locket her mother had given her when she turned eighteen, and it was her priceless treasure. Christine looked at her reflection and approved of her outfit. If I get to use it, she thought sadly. He may turn tail and run when he found out whom her father was.

  The doorbell rang promptly at six, and when she opened the door Wes was on the other side. He was holding a bouquet of wild flowers and wearing a grin on his handsome face. Christine looked him over for a moment. He was out of uniform but still sexy as hell. She thought that about him each time she saw him in the coffee shop but looked away every time he caught her glance. Today he was in casual jeans that weren’t too tight on his lean hips. A long sleeved, red polo shirt with the arms pushed up to his elbows and loafers. His hair was brownish red and cut in a low military style, short at the sides and back and about an inch long at top. He had it brushed neatly back, and his green eyes mirrored the smile on his lips.

  “You look gorgeous,” he said. His voice was like wild honey, dark, sweet, and smooth.

  “You don’t look so bad yourself.” Christine was warmed by the appreciation in his voice. “Come in while I grab my purse.”

  He stepped inside, looked back outside, and frowned. “You know there’s a sedan parked out there that seems very out of place.”

  Christine sighed. “We need to talk about that.”

  “Uh-oh, sounds ominous,” Wes said as she closed the door.

  She faced him. “I’m giving you the opportunity to back out of this date. Most people do when they hear who my father is.”

  “Who is your father?” Wes asked.

  “Leonard Chapel,” she said simply.

  He shook his head. “No clue who that is.”

  She was delighted with that fact but hid her response. “He owns a lot of real estate and businesses here in Los Alamos. He’s on the board of commissioners, and I have no doubt is involved in most of the shady shit that goes on in this town. That car is his security detail, watching me not by my choice. We don’t have the best relationship.”

  “Okay then, call the police,” Wes said.

  “They see and don’t see around here, he has that kind of power and pull. He thinks he owns me and says he has plans for me that are, again, not my choice. People know he’s my father and turn a blind eye when it comes to the stuff he does,” she explained and sighed. “So, I’m that kind of trouble you may not want in your life.”

  “Can I kiss you?” he asked.

  Christine blinked at him. “Uh, what?”

  He stepped closer and repeated the question huskily. “You look amazing, you smell like heaven, and while you were talking all I could think about was kissing you.”

  “Not quite the answer I was expecting,” she said and her heart began to race. “But, um, okay.”

  “Good.”

  He placed the flowers on the small accent table against the wall and pulled her into his arms. He looked down at her face, and her lips parted in anticipation of his kiss. She could drown in his light green eyes, and for a moment she did until his lips were on her. She made a soft sound of pleasure, and her eyes drifted closed as he languidly rubbed his lips against hers. He ran his tongue lazily over her lips, and with a soft groan he deepened the kiss. He tasted her completely, and she molded her body close to his as heat consumed her.

  He lifted his head and stared at her. “I don’t know who your father is, and I really don’t care. I’m my own man and I don’t scare away. So I’d like to take you back to my place and grill you a steak.”

  A slow smile crossed Christine’s face. “I’d like that, a lot.”

  “And guess what, I live on Kirkland Air Force Base property, so those guys will not bother you.” Wes grinned. “I’ll call the MPs on their ass, and then they can explain to them why they’re parked outs
ide my house.”

  She laughed. “That would be perfect. Let me get my flowers in water, grab my purse, and I’ll be ready to go.”

  He waited for her, and she pulled her coat on while she stepped out into the cool night air. They walked to his truck, a sleek, midnight blue Dodge quad cab. He settled her inside and did a neat u-turn in the parking lot outside her apartment. Wes slowed next to the sedan and rolled his window down. When the man in the sedan rolled the window down, she recognized him as her father’s head of security, Walter.

  “Hey, the truck is big enough so you can’t miss me, but when we get close to the base you may want to fall back,” Wes said cheerfully.

  “Why’s that?” Walter sneered.

  “Just a friendly warning,” Wes’s voice changed.

  “Your father is not happy with you, Christine.” Walter looked past Wes to her.

  “I haven’t cared if he was happy or sad for a long time,” Christine replied. “Let’s go Wes, please.”

  He pulled away and as he drove glanced over to her. “Are you okay?”

  She smiled. “I am. I was thinking maybe it wasn’t best you provoke them. They’re dangerous, Wes, and I don’t want anyone hurt because of me.”

  Wes grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a hard head.”

  They talked about simple things on the drive toward Kirkland Air Force Base. It was an hour before they got to the neighborhood where he lived. Clearly a subdivision with almost cookie cutter houses filled with military families. Along with blown-up snowmen and Christmas decorations was the American flag. Other flags were blowing in the cool night breeze to signify they had a family member deployed. One house in particular made her smile, because yellow ribbons were tied around the trees out front. She knew from the old days this signified they were waiting for someone to come home. He or she sure can’t miss it, Christine thought with a smile. Wes’s house was bigger than some of the others, and instead of a ranch style it had a Spanish villa motif. It sat at the end of the cul-de sac, and the front lights illuminated the soft, reddish-beige color of the walls and the dark mahogany glass and wood door.