Page 31 of Christmas in Quincy (The Edens 0.50)

If Christmas Eve was Austin’s time to celebrate, then I’d do my best to make this trip enjoyable. Starting with dinner.

Chapter 7

Austin

“Hey,” I answered Channing’s call. “How’s it going?”

“Good. Just wanted to call and make sure you haven’t frozen your balls off yet.”

I chuckled. “Not quite. Sorry I’m not there today.”

Instead, I was back at the farm supply store with two long-sleeved thermals draped over one arm while I stared at the packages of boxer briefs and crew socks. I’d taken a shower but wearing yesterday’s clothes was getting old. I could survive in the same jeans for the rest of the trip, but I wasn’t going to wear the same damn underwear.

I probably should have stopped at the store after my trip to the gas station for toiletries, but at this point, I didn’t mind making multiple trips. There wasn’t much else to do today.

“I’ll make it up to you at New Year’s,” I told Channing.

“It’s cool,” he said. “Mom and I are good. She’s cooking all my favorite stuff today because she feels guilty for not being home on Christmas.”

That was how Mom was every year. She’d spend all of Christmas Eve in the kitchen, making more food than Channing and I could eat all week, let alone in one day, just so that on Christmas Day we weren’t fending for ourselves.

Then she’d come home from her shift at the hospital and we’d eat leftovers. Mom didn’t make the traditional Christmas roast or ham or turkey. She went straight to our favorites: homemade lasagna and green chili enchiladas. They reheated well in the microwave too.

“I wish I was there,” I said.

“Gotta deal with the diva.”

“She’s not a diva.” I frowned, grabbing a four-pack of boxers and a bundle of black socks.

“Dude, any chicks that you have to protect are total divas.”

“Not Cleo.”

“Then why’d she take off to Montana for some bougie vacation?”

“She just came to be alone.”

“Diva.”

“Would you stop calling her a diva?” I snapped. “She isn’t like that.”

“Whoa. Sorry,” he muttered.

“No, it’s not you.” I sighed. “I’m on edge.”

Being on this trip, being this close to Cleo, was making me an exceptionally grumpy bastard.

There was a clicking in the background, like Channing was pressing buttons. My guess was that while Mom was in the kitchen, he was playing video games. I’d never really been into the things myself, but on holidays like this, I’d make an exception and let him school me at a game.

“Wish I was there,” I repeated. Though it was only partially the truth. Cleo was magnetic and enchanting. Time with her was never a waste, no matter how painful it was to maintain my restraints.

“Yeah,” Channing said. “At least you don’t have to go to some rich-dude party.”

“True.” The Hillcrests threw an outlandish Christmas Eve celebration and Ray liked to have security inside and outside the house. My team would be there tonight, like they were every year. My second-in-command, Blake, would be there himself and no matter what came up, he’d handle it.

When I’d first started Garrison, I’d both managed the business and taken on client tasks. But as we’d grown, I’d

cut my time with clients. I focused on risk assessments and pairing team members with jobs. I built relationships with my customers and trained my team, most of whom were ex-military, to our protocols.