Perfect Gifts (Harrisburg Railers Series Book 12), page 1
PERFECT GIFTS
Harrisburg Railers, 12
RJ SCOTT
V.L. LOCEY
Copyright
Perfect Gifts (Harrisburg Railers #12)
Copyright © 2022 RJ Scott, Copyright © 2022 V.L. Locey
Cover design by Meredith Russell, Edited by Sue Laybourn
Published by Love Lane Books Limited
ISBN - 9781785643910
All Rights Reserved
This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer-to-peer program, for free or for a fee. Such action is illegal and in violation of Copyright Law.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
All trademarks are the property of their respective owners.
Perfect Gifts (Railers, 12)
Family comes first in all things. Whatever the cost.
Ten had always heard the saying, “Out of the mouths of babes,” but he hadn’t expected it to hit home as it had. After a comment from their daughter, Ten and Jared ponder an addition to the family. Moving into the adoption process is nerve-wracking and riddled with anxiety—kind of the way the Railers have been playing as of late. Bringing two young men into their homes and hearts won’t be a smooth ride. But with patience, humor, and love, the bumpy road might just be a little easier to travel.
Expanding their small family was always in the cards, but no one could have foreseen the process clashing with the worst ever start to a Railers season. A string of losses, a vital player missing from the defense, a captain in the emergency room—and winning a single game seems impossible, let alone getting the team to the playoffs. Faced with hard decisions, Jared refuses to take his work home, but it’s difficult when your husband is at the leading edge of the losing streak. His focus fractures when one sibling they’re matched with is frustrated, angry, and has a healthy dose of mistrust. Jared and Ten’s parenting skills are tested, but they’ll do anything to make a place in their home the perfect gift for two children lost in the system.
Dedication
To my family who accepts me and all my foibles and quirks. Even the plastic banana in my holster.
VL Locey
Always for my family.
RJ Scott
Contents
Perfect Gifts
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
Free Story
What’s next for RJ & Vicki
Hockey from Scott & Locey
Also by RJ Scott
Also by V.L. Locey
Meet RJ Scott
Meet V.L. Locey
Chapter One
Ten
“Okay, so today we’re going to listen to something new,” I said, taking a seat on the floor beside Lottie in her playroom. She was surrounded by teddy bears—most in Railers sweaters—and one lop-eared stuffed rabbit she’d named Patty. The tiny table was set for a tea party, and my princess was wearing a pale blue sparkly gown, with yellow wool socks and a tiara made of Siberian roe deer antlers. Her Uncle Stan had brought it back from his last trip to Russia. And by last, I mean final. Long story there, but yeah, she was ready for tea.
“Why?” she asked, pouring grape juice into a tiny plastic teacup. Most of it went into the cup, so stick taps to the improvement in her pouring skills.
“Well, because we think you should listen to things other than ‘Baby Shark,’” I replied, trying to wedge my legs under the table. Sitting on the little pink plastic chairs had been a hard fail.
“I like ‘Baby Shark,’” she informed me.
Yeah, we knew she did. Jared was on the verge of tears last week after the bouncy little kids’ song had been played at least ten thousand times in a single day. He was looking into calling the folks over at Guinness to see if that was a world record.
“Sure, yeah, Dad and I do too, but it’s good to learn new songs.” She studied me intently, then gave me a regal nod. “Awesome. So, here are a few tunes for a smart, pretty, princess—”
“I’m a warrior princess.”
“Oh, sure, my bad. Here are some songs for a smart, pretty, warrior princess to know.” I placed my cell on the table next to the peanut butter and honey sandwiches that Jared had prepared for us. He was late for tea. Charlotte, the Warrior Princess, would get cross soon. I cranked up a nice little playlist that had lots of good bands. Kids had to be taught early after all. “Birdhouse in Your Soul” by They Might Be Giants began playing.
She poured another cup of juice, then stared right at me. “Where is Daddy?”
“Oh, he’s talking to Ryker,” I said, wishing we still had our cushy pillows. They’d met a tragic end last week when our chocolate Lab puppy, Gordie, had torn them to shreds. Good old Borque, my brother’s elderly Lab, had sired his last litter before retiring from the stud business to lie in the sun and get chubby. A fitting retirement. I hoped to do the same in about ten years. I was already thirty, so ten more years in the game might sometimes sound too short, and then, on the days when the headaches hit me or a bruising defenseman knocked me into the boards, it seemed way too far away.
“Uncle Ryker and Uncle Jab coming for Christmas?”
“I don’t know, Peanut. They have a ranch now, and Ryker is playing hockey like Daddy and Dad. We’ll keep our fingers crossed.”
She heaved a worldly sigh way beyond her three and a half years. Then, she crossed her fingers. And her toes. Which she was showing me were crossed inside her socks when Jared finally arrived for tea, with Gordie. The pup was enthusiastic to say the least. He adored Charlotte, and she him, but his energy level was off the charts.
“Sorry to be late, your highness,” Jared said, then executed a courtly bow as Gordie made a lunge for the sandwiches, nearly toppling the whole shebang. The dog was nothing if not a fool for food. Which made training easy. Our poor nanny was about frazzled. After getting the pup to sit—which was just his ass barely on the floor, tail wagging gleefully as he tried to get the peanut butter off the roof of his mouth—Jared rolled his eyes, then scanned for somewhere to sit.
“Why have we not replaced the tea pillows?” he enquired.
“No one has been to Target yet,” I informed him.
“Ah. Wonderful. I love sitting on the floor for tea.”
He didn’t. The old goat was finding it harder and harder to get up every passing year. Thankfully, he still rose quickly in other positions. I was still feeling some intimate twinges from our lovemaking last night. Yeah, the tea pillows would have been really nice though.
“Dad and Daddy, I has a royal prock-a-may-shun to make,” Charlotte announced after pouring some juice into a cup, then placing it on the floor for Gordie. He lapped it up, dribbling purple droplets all over the rose-colored carpet. Good thing we’d invested in that carpet cleaner.
“If it’s the pony proclamation… Ugh, cripes this floor is low,” Jared grunted as he lowered himself down.
I patted his thigh when he was seated. “We’ll buy one of those lift chairs for teatime just for you,” I teased.
He shot me a dirty look that made me snort into my tea. “You’re such a wisenheimer,” he tossed back as he tried to wriggle in reverse—far enough to reach the table, yet still have his spine against the footboard of Lottie’s bed.
“I’m just thinking of your comfort, Sir Jared of Boomerville.”
“I’m not a Boomer, thank you so very much,” he muttered, his blue eyes snapping with humor and a little something sassy that said he just might show me how fit he still was tonight. I’d be up for it. Days off between home games were made for playtime with Lottie and loving time with Jared.
“Excuse me, but I has words to make off-fish-shall,” Charlotte informed us.
Gordie sat up, purple juice dripping from his jowls, to stare at the queen as if waiting for the decree.
“Excuse us, please, proclaim,” I told her with a little bow of my head.
Jared lifted his teacup to his lips.
“I want a brother.” Grape juice flew across the table, Jared doing a spit-take Gene Wilder would’ve envied. Gordie leapt up to lick up the juice. Sandwiches flew everywhere, juice spilled from the pot to my lap, and her royal highness had a regal meltdown.
An hour later, after Lottie and Gordie were napping on the sofa, and we’d shampooed the rug in her room, Jared and I were in the kitchen enjoying some real tea. He’d been on this honey chamomile tea kick as of late, hoping that cutting out caffeine would help him sleep better. So far robust sex seemed to do it, but it had only been a few days.
“So, where do we think she got on the brother kick?” Jared asked as he stirred some of the honey that Adler’d brought us into his mug. Ad had taken up beekeeping. Why? Not a clue, but we all suspected that it was so he could brag about having a big stinger in the locker room. They’d found out Layton was allergic, so he watched the bees from a distance.
“Probably at the indoor playground over in Camp Hill earlier,” I said while dunking a Stella D’oro cookie into my tea. I’d have a few. Cookies were not recommended by the Railers nutritionist as healthy afternoon snacks. “She was playing with Michelle Khan.”
“Oh, yes, Mrs. Khan just had a baby,” Jared replied, then added one more dollop of honey to his mug. “A little boy.”
“Yep. She was cooing and cuddling the baby until we left. She even skipped the jungle gym and slide to tickle tiny Joey’s chin.”
Jared’s eyes flared. Lottie never passed the jungle gym and slide. Ever. I’d had to climb in a time or two to extract her when it was time to go. Jared—the old D-man that he was—was too burly to fit. The parents who had gotten to witness a hockey player trying to wedge his shoulders into a skinny tube with monkeys painted on the sides had found it pretty amusing. As had the local press the following day. Nothing says professionalism after just signing a new multi-million dollar contract like being photographed wriggling through the monkey tumble tube.
“That explains it,” he commented as he began thumbing languidly through his daily read of The Patriot News online. The man looked sexy AF in those reading glasses.
“Yeah, I guess.” I nibbled on my cookie, my phone showing a half-read article in The Athletic waiting for me to return to it. “You know we could consider it.” That brought his gaze up from the local news. He studied me over the top of his DILF glasses. “What? It’s not as if we haven’t discussed having another baby. It was kind of always our plan.”
“Well… yes, I know we’ve discussed it.” He removed his glasses, folded them, and laid them by the cookie box. He assessed me intently. “Do you think it’s something we should look at more closely?”
“Maybe?” I reached for another cookie, my sight darting from the cookie to Jared to the window where the glass was coated with a touch of frost around the edges. Fall was here, and it was glorious. We had pumpkins to carve, cider to drink, and Halloween costumes to decide on before the end of the month rolled around. “I mean she is here alone all the time.”
“She’s not alone. She has us, a nanny, and now, a dog.”
“Well yeah, I don’t mean like we Kevin McAllister her or anything, it’s just…” I plucked the cookie from its wrap, then dunked it quickly into my tea, hurrying to get the shortbread treat to my mouth. I chewed, then swallowed. Jared sat across from me waiting patiently for me to make my point. “Okay, so, and never tell them—especially Brady—but having siblings to grow up with was pretty nice. Most of the time.”
He smiled at me. “I know you love your brothers even when they act like bossy assholes or punch your new lover in the kisser.”
I chuckled at the memory of Brady tossing the gloves with Jared when he’d stumbled in on us after we’d been sexing it up. God, what a moronic move on my older brother’s part. As if I was a fine Regency lady who had been sullied by a rakish duke and needed my jerk toad of a brother to defend my honor.
“Yeah, they’re my brothers, morons as they may be. Not that there is anything wrong with being an only child. And if we decide to only have Lottie, that’s cool, but yeah, maybe she’s lonely here in this big house with just a nanny. We travel so damn much. It might be nice to have another kid. They could entertain each other.”
“Hmm. Is that what you three Rowe boys did? ‘Entertain each other’?” Jared’s glance was mischievous.
“Sometimes. If fighting or pranking each other all the time is considered entertaining each other, then yep, we sure did that.” He chuckled warmly. “I don’t know. Maybe we should bring it up for serious discussion. I’d be down with using a surrogate again, if we wanted to go that way.”
He nodded slowly, but his attention had drifted. “We could adopt,” he offered. I pushed the cookies aside as an unexpected rush of emotion surged through me. “Ryker and Jacob are always saying it’s beyond sad how many children they see going through the system. I know they’re seriously considering fostering, then adopting. Maybe, we could do that here in Harrisburg. There has to be a child out there who needs a good home.”
“Yeah! I’m sure there are tons of kids who would love being here with us. Lottie would have an older brother or sister to play with instead of waiting for an infant to grow up enough to really engage with. Are you down with all of that?”
“Yes, I’m certainly willing to give it some deep thought. We could reach out to the Dauphin County Children and Youth Services to feel out what the process might entail. Then, once we have a better grasp of just what would be required of us if we go this way, we can make a more informed decision. Does that sound good to you?”
“That sounds great to me. Can you contact them now? Just to see what they say and who they direct us to? I’m sure we’ll pass all the criteria. I just signed a new contract for six years that will drop eight million a year into our accounts. You make nice bank too.”
“I’m sure money won’t be an issue for us, or our backgrounds. We’re pretty straightlaced.”
“There’s no time to get into trouble when you play hockey.” He gave me an arched eyebrow. “Oh, well, right, some guys do find the time.”
He moved forward, enough to rest his sexy forearms on the kitchen table. “I’ll do a quick search and send off an email asking for information. Then we’ll talk more later. No more cookies. You’ll have to run from here to the Susquehanna Art Museum and back tomorrow morning to work off the whole sleeve you just polished off.”
“I can’t help it. I like my treats.” I rose, planted my hands on the table, then leaned over it to plant a slow, wet kiss on my husband’s honey-sweet lips.
That kiss might have developed into something much hotter had our daughter not come charging in with a long-legged Lab puppy bouncing by her side, both looking for a potty run. Jared grabbed Lottie, and I snagged the leash from where it hung beside the back door. The tingle of Jared’s kiss was still on my lips as Gordie and I rushed out into the chilly October day.
Chapter Two
Jared
I didn’t have siblings.
It wasn’t for wont of trying on my mom and dad’s part, but according to them, I was their miracle baby, and given I’d arrived when Mom was already forty-two and Dad nearing fifty, I was the last chance. We’d been tight. Hell, they’d been my biggest supporters as I’d grown up, Dad driving me to hockey practices at ass o’clock in the morning; Mom cheering, fundraising, and baking a million brownies for bus rides. Mom had passed a year before I was drafted, Dad seeming to wait to see me get my place in hockey before passing as well. I reckon he died of a broken heart, and I’m sure if Ten left me it’d be the same for me; although, if Lottie was still small, if she needed me, if any of our kids needed us, would I give in so easily? I never blamed my dad for his grief— I was already out in the world, and he was over seventy and so tired of life without Mom. I still wish I had the unconditional love of stupid-ass idiotic annoying siblings around me that Ten had from his family.
I was envious of their easy familiarity and their shared history, and always had been. Less so since I’d been dragged into the Rowe family fold, nevertheless, a sibling of my own would have been nice.
I’d always wanted a brother or sister for Ryker, but Casey and I were never going to work, and Ryker was our only kid. He had sisters from when Casey remarried, and they were close. I could imagine him at their weddings, at graduations, being there for them whenever they needed him.
I wanted siblings for Lottie as much as Ten did. I’d never realized it before he’d talked about it, and I was determined to push things forward. Unfortunately, sitting at my laptop ready to write an email to Dauphin County Children and Youth Services was an exercise in staring at a blank screen after a few aborted starts. I guess it didn’t help that my first email started with a sentence that came over as we’re gay, we’re married, deal with it—probably not the best angle of attack—with attack being the operative word.
