Page 10 of Sexy Claus

Christy Rime.

A million unbidden memories flitted through his mind, accompanied by too many feelings to process.

What had his daughter said?

She isn’t staying in Creekside.

The prospect of seeing his former love and having to watch her leave again reopened the old wounds that had never fully healed. He had numbed himself to a certain extent, but he’d given up on ever truly moving beyond the pervasive heartache that wouldn’t fade.

Blindsided by seeing her and discovering she was part of his daughter’s recovery, he sat in silence for several minutes, waiting to wake up from whatever hellish dream this was.

“Dad. Dad?” Brenna frowned at him. “Are you feeling okay? You didn’t fall today, did you?”

“Of course not.” His response came out gruffer than he intended, and forcing a smile wasn’t something he could do at the moment. “Did you make the guacamole?”

Her intense stare warned him she hadn’t fallen for his attempt to change the subject. “Let’s have spaghetti instead. What’s wrong? Is this about me mov—”

The cell chirped in her lap, saving him from the question he had no desire to answer.

She flipped it over and swiped upward. “She wants to know if we can come over now. I’m telling her we’ll be there in ten minutes.”

A wave of nausea and lightheadedness kept him in the chair when he would’ve preferred escaping to a rooftop. He shoved his fingers through his hair and grunted.

Her sigh reminded him of her teenage years. “I know you don’t want me to move out, but I’m ready to be on my own again. Besides, it’s only like three blocks away. She sent me the address.”

Two blocks. Less than half a mile.

He could walk there in his sleep.

“You’re not mad, are you?”

At her softly spoken question, he shook his head. “I’ve never been mad at you. Ever. Not once in your entire life. Grab your coat. It’ll take a few minutes to get you and your chair loaded in the truck.”

“Okay.” Without another word, she rolled out of the room, navigating the corner into the hallway like a pro.

Nine minutes later, he parked behind the same car he’d seen this morning and shut down the emotions trying to crawl through his skin. Brenna deserved to be happy, even if it was at his own expense, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to let Christy see how affected he was by her temporary return.

Giving my daughter a house doesn’t make up for leaving me in your dust.

He buried the jumble of grief, anger, and hurt deeper than before while he unloaded the wheelchair from the covered bed and helped Brenna into the seat. Then he followed her to a ramp leading to the front door.

It swung inward at their approach, revealing an older but no less beautiful version of his former best friend turned longtime girlfriend. Her gaze darted away from his and landed in the vicinity of his daughter. “Sorry for the short notice. My new boss wants me to run a training session at the clinic tomorrow.”

So that’s the way you’re going to play it?

“No worries. My dad just got home from work right before you texted, and I was done for the day.” Brenna looked up at him. “Dad, this is Christy Rime. Christy, meet my dad. Sven Carlsen.”

His lungs stalled when his lost love slowly extended her right hand past the handle at the back of the wheelchair. Then she locked familiar brown eyes on his, but the bare hint of a smile was framed by a tense jaw. “Mr. Carlsen.”

He swallowed to wet his suddenly parched throat as he battled a snarky greeting sure to pique Brenna’s curiosity. If Christy wanted to pretend they were strangers, he could too. “Ms. Rime.”

The first touch of her fingers sent a jolt up his arm and zinging straight to his groin. Her eyes widened, suggesting she’d felt it too.

It doesn’t mean a damn thing. She’s leaving in January. She’ll always leave.

He stuffed his still-tingling fist in his coat pocket. “Let’s take a tour.”

She led them to the living room with the same couch from their days doing homework together. Her father’s chair filled the same corner it had back then. The hardwood floor could use a light sanding and a coat of varnish, and the walls needed a fresh coat of paint. Otherwise, the room seemed to be in decent shape—basically unchanged since his last visit.

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