A Bravo For Christmas. Christine Rimmer
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troop clubhouse to find him surrounded by ten laughing Blueberries, ages six through eight. He wore jeans, boots and a thermal work shirt. The girls had added a pink paper crown dusted with glitter, an oversize pair of red cat’s-eye glasses and a giant purple pop bead necklace. And someone had tied a length of rumpled blue velvet around his neck—for a cape or possibly a royal robe.
Ava’s seven-year-old daughter, Sylvie, caught sight of Ava at the door and crowed, “Mommy, look! Darius is king of the Blueberries!” as the other girls giggled and clapped.
Ava played along and sketched a bow. “Your Majesty.”
Darius was already looking her way. He did that a lot—watched her. Teased her. The man was born a shameless flirt. At her greeting, he lifted a dark eyebrow and returned a slow, regal nod that caused his paper crown to dip precariously near one gleaming blue eye.
He should have looked ridiculous. But no. Somehow, glittery paper crowns, tattered velvet capes and giant toy necklaces only made Darius Bravo seem more manly.
And he was so good with the girls. Ava hadn’t expected that. She’d known him since high school, and he’d been with lots of women. He’d never settled down with any of them, though, never started a family. She’d always assumed that kids didn’t interest him.
Yet somehow, he’d let himself get roped into helping out with the Blueberry Christmas project this year. For the last six weeks, he’d been supervising the troop as they assembled, painted and furnished five kit dollhouses for five local children’s charities. He’d done most of the work, while at the same time managing to get each girl involved in a constructive way.
So yeah. Darius was hot and charming and he had a way with children. Ava’s Sylvie adored him. And that made Ava like him more, made her more susceptible to the teasing glances he lavished on her and the jokingly suggestive things he said.
For so long, she’d considered herself totally over whatever had made him so tempting to her in high school. Now she feared she might be coming down with a slight crush on the guy all over again. She might even have fantasized about him once or twice.
Or a lot.
And so what? She needed her fantasies. When it came to romance and passion and sex, fantasies were all she had.
And no, she didn’t feel sorry for herself because she didn’t have a man. Ava didn’t want another relationship. She’d loved Craig Malloy and lost him, had the medals and the folded flag to prove it. Six years after the casualty notification officer knocked on her door, grief at Craig’s passing still haunted her. It wasn’t the clawing agony it used to be. However, it was bad enough that she didn’t want to get serious with any guy. Not yet. Maybe never.
But was it so wrong to yearn for a little magic and passion? Ava wanted the shivery thrill of a hot kiss, the glory of a tender touch.
To put it bluntly, she would love to get laid.
A man for Christmas. Was that too much to ask? A lovely holiday fling. Yeah. That would work perfectly for her. No strings attached—and over and done by New Year’s Day. Scratch where it itched.
And move on. To her, that sounded just perfect. But she had a daughter to raise and a demanding real estate business to run. Somehow, she never found the time to track down the right no-strings lover.
The door opened behind her, letting in a gust of icy November air. Chloe Bravo, one of Darius’s sisters-in-law, slipped through. “Hey, Ava.”
Ava dismissed her absurd Christmas-fling fantasy and smiled at Chloe, whose six-year-old stepdaughter, Annabelle, was also a Blueberry and Sylvie’s best friend. Leaning close to Chloe, Ava asked softly, “How are we doing for Saturday?”
Chloe was tall, blonde and drop-dead gorgeous. She and Ava both worked with Bravo Construction, which was owned and run by two of Darius’s half siblings, Garrett and Nell. “I’m still waiting to firm up the delivery on a sofa, two bedroom suites and most of the wall and table decor.” An interior designer, Chloe was staging a Bravo-built home for the open house Ava would be holding on the weekend.
Ava pulled Chloe to the side of the mudroom/entry area, away from the laughing Blueberries and their blue-eyed king. “You know I’ll help when it comes to the crunch.”
Chloe removed her bright red beanie and shook off a light dusting of snow. “Thank you. There’s way too much going on. Thanksgiving’s in three days, and then there’s Black Friday. I may have to skip the family shopping trip if I want to get it all pulled together by Saturday.”
“You can’t miss that.” The Black Friday shopping trip was a Bravo family tradition. The Bravo women got up at three in the morning and caravanned to Denver. “Just give me your design plans at dinner on Thursday.” Ava and Sylvie were having Thanksgiving with the Bravos this year. “I’ll go in first thing Friday morning and set up whatever you didn’t get to. Then you can come by after the trip to Denver and double-check that it’s all ready to go.”
“I couldn’t. You have enough on your plate—and aren’t you going to Denver?”
“Stop.” Grinning, Ava shook her head. “I know you really want to go. I’ll take care of the last-minute stuff, no problem.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
Chloe beamed. “You’re a lifesaver. And I owe you.”
“All right, everyone.” Out in the main area of the clubhouse, Janice Hayes, the troop leader, clapped her hands lightly for attention. “Moms and dads are arriving. Let’s get everything picked up and put away.”
Laughing and chattering, the girls set to work stuffing their cubbies and cleaning up their supplies and tools. Darius shrugged out of his regal finery and enlisted the aid of a few moms to help him move the five fully assembled dollhouses back to their assigned spots along one wall.
Ava helped, too. She put away paints and craft supplies.
Then Janice waved a bright pink clipboard for attention again. “We have three weeks until the Holiday Ball.” The dollhouses would go on display in the ballroom lobby during the annual Haltersham Hotel Holiday Ball. After the ball, the dollhouses would be given to five different centers for disadvantaged or seriously ill children in the Justice Creek area.
“It may seem like plenty of time, but there’s still a lot of painting, furnishing and accessorizing to do. And we all know how it is at the holidays. Everyone’s busy and things get away from us. Anyone who can put in a few hours next week or the week after, let me know. I’m working out a schedule.” Hands went up. Janice jotted down names and times as daughters and parents volunteered.
In the buzz of activity, Ava had almost forgotten the Blueberry king. But then, there he was, moving in just behind her left shoulder. She felt the air stir with his heat. His wonderful scent of leather, sawdust and soap tried to seduce her.
A shiver of yearning lifted the hairs on the back of her neck.
And all at once, she was fifteen again, turning from her hall locker, worn backpack sliding down one arm, to find him standing right behind her...
* * *
“Ava Janko.” He’d said her name that day like he was daring her to do something crazy and thrilling and probably dangerous.
He might have saved his breath.
Ava didn’t do dangerous, not ever again—not by choice, anyway. Her parents were dreamers. They’d always claimed they lived on love. The way Ava saw it, living on love just made you broke. Somebody had to consider the future, behave responsibly and remember to pay the rent. She was only fifteen, but she babysat, helped her aunt Rae clean houses and worked part-time at Deeliteful Donuts on Creekside Drive a few blocks from the family double-wide.
“Dare Bravo,” she replied, wrapping both arms around her backpack, using it as a lumpy, faded shield between them, a shield she really needed. Because those blue eyes burned