Chapter 3
Three
GARRETT
Twenty Days until Christmas
Aidyn is torturing me. Is this payback for something?
I meet with Zye on Tuesday for lunch, and Aidyn asks me to check a problem with his stove.
How the hell would I know what’s wrong? But he pushes me into the pantry, gives me Advent kiss number two, and reminds me there are twenty-three days until Christmas.
On Wednesday, he shows up at four in the morning. He has a key, so he just slips into my room and wakes me with a kiss. Unfortunately, I’m unable to tempt him into my bed. “The bread needs time to rise, love.”
The fourth kiss of Advent happens in the storage room of Zye’s shop. “Twenty-one days until Christmas.”
But today is the day I’ve been waiting for. Lanie is at Zoey’s. The diner is open until nine, so Aidyn gave me strict instructions to be prepped and ready for him. “No cheating, love. Your cock is mine.”
I strip and stretch out on his bed. Prepping myself in Aidyn’s bed with his scent all around me has me rock hard. But I can’t touch my cock. Hitting my prostate a few times isn’t exactly cheating, but I don’t want to come until Aidyn has his monster of a cock buried in my ass.
Fuck. I picture Aidyn holding my legs as he fucks me.
“What a gorgeous sight. My needy Santa is all prepped and ready for my package.”
Normally, the cheesy lines would bring a smile to my face, but I’m desperate for his touch. “Aidyn, please.”
“I’ve got you, love.” He undresses and crawls on the bed until he’s over me. “Advent kiss number five. Twenty more days.”
I moan into his kiss. “Please fuck me.”
“That’s the plan.”
Except, he takes his time. Teasing me with kisses. Brushing his fingers over my nipples, my stomach, the head of my cock.
“Aidyn, please.”
Finally, he takes us both in his hand. “Like this?” he asks breathlessly.
“Yes. God, yes.”
He strokes, and I swear it’s not going to take long.
“You want my cock in your arse? Ripping it apart?”
I can’t even talk anymore. My head jerks up and down, and I hope he gets it.
The blaring of my phone shatters the moment. Fuck.
“Ignore it,” Aidyn growls. “Can’t they give you the night off?”
I’m more than happy to ignore it, and I surge up to kiss him. “Need you.”
“I—”
My phone blares again. After the fifth time, I know they aren’t giving up. I shake my head. It better be a goddamn emergency. I let out a frustrated sound. “Sorry. I just need to check.”
Aidyn falls back on the bed.
I grab my pants from the floor and pull out my phone. I’ll just answer this really quick. But the ringing has already stopped again. I frown at the number displayed.
“Is it work?” Aidyn asks.
“Worse. Much worse.” What the fuck? “It’s my parents.”
I stomp through the dusting of snow and yank open the door to my Lexus. I’m acting like a teenager not getting his way, but fuck, I’m helpless to stop it.
Aidyn and I finally get time together, and my parents ruin it.
Even a week later, I’m irritated at Aidyn for arranging Christmas plans for us when I’d rather pretend the holiday doesn’t exist. But I can’t disappoint Lanie.
And arguing about it would waste precious time.
Time better spent with Aidyn’s monster cock in my ass.
I navigate my way through town, trying to focus on stop signs and not hitting Mrs. Weppler’s dog instead of the voicemail from my mother telling me they’re at my house.
Why the fuck are they here? My parents moved to Florida almost a decade ago.
They said they wanted to avoid Missouri winters, but I think it had more to do with losing Emily.
They return to Mule Creek now and then just to fuck up our lives, like the time they fought Isaac for custody of Simon.
The courts sided with Isaac, thankfully.
My parents had turned a blind eye to Jane’s addiction issues.
If they’d won, would they have left Simon with Jane? Probably.
But I can handle my parents. I’ll visit with them, listen to their gripes about whatever brought them back to Missouri, and send them on their way.
This thing with Aidyn isn’t as easily dismissed. He should have talked to me before telling Lanie I’d spend Christmas with them. He knows I’m not a fan of Christmas.
When I lived in New York, I did the expected things. The company Christmas party. Presents for my staff. A bonus for my housekeeper and my personal assistant—should I give Nat a bonus? Or would she be offended if I gave one to her and not to everyone?
That’s a problem for another day.
Now I have someone to spend Christmas with. But years and years of marketing Christmas earlier and earlier tainted the holiday for me. Everything from the decorations and the presents to the big family dinner feels like a marketing ploy to part people from their money.
It’s just another day.
Bishop Fields is five miles out of town in a picturesque setting that we feature heavily on our website.
In the darkness, the lights from the venue make it appear almost magical.
A warmth spreads over my heart. I did this.
I built this business from the bottom up and made it into something special.
The main building is a far cry from the old barn I restored and expanded to meet our needs.
I live another mile down the road in the old Stryker farmhouse, which I renovated and modernized. It still has a traditional farmhouse charm with a large covered front porch. As soon as I park and step out of my car, my father emerges from the driver’s side of a rental car. “Good to see you, son.”
I shake his hand. My mother is already beside me. She fusses with the sleeves of her shirt, barely looking at me. “Garrett, darling. We’ve been waiting a very long time.”
Then maybe you should have called first.
But saying anything close to those words will lead to a thing. And I don’t have the patience or energy for that.
“It’s nice to see you, Mother.” I kiss my mother’s cheek. Her smile is quick and almost looks sincere.
“What are you doing here?”
My father looks perplexed. “We mentioned we were coming.”
“You did? I don’t recall—”
“We’re standing in the cold, Garrett,” Mother announces as she pulls her coat tighter.
Then ask to go inside. I want to scream the words at her. Her passive-aggressive, manipulative statements drive me over the edge.
But I lead them inside and insist they remove their shoes. The faster we can get whatever this is over with, the sooner I can be alone. Not that I want to be alone. I want to be in Aidyn’s bed, gagging on his monster cock, but that isn’t happening tonight.
I make coffee knowing my mother will ask for some. Or, more likely, announce she doesn’t have any, for fuck’s sake.
Once we’re settled with coffee in my giant living room with lush cream carpet and a dark-blue couch and matching love seat, I return to our earlier conversation. “You mentioned you were coming?”
At least my statement sounds like a question. Take notes, Mother.
Father nods. “We called on Thanksgiving, remember?”
“No…”
“At Jane’s,” Mother prompts.
Something isn’t adding up. They called Jane, no surprise. “Sorry. I wasn’t with Jane on Thanksgiving.”
I was at Christy’s Café, helping Aidyn so his workers could get the day off.
“She’s your sister, Garrett. And Simon is your nephew. You couldn’t spend Thanksgiving with them?”
I let out a harsh laugh. “We were in different countries.” Isaac and Simon spent Thanksgiving with Prince Adrian at the palace in Lutiana. Isaac mentioned they had invited Jane. “You told Jane you were coming for Christmas?”
Mother sniffs. “We told her we’d see her soon.”
That explains why I didn’t get an emergency call from my sister. How many times have we heard those words over the last ten years? For fuck’s sake, they missed Jane’s wedding to Isaac because of a trip to the Caribbean.
My brain screeches to a halt. Jane’s wedding. That’s when Aidyn and I first worked out our differences. But I can’t think about that. Or taking out my aggression on Aidyn by slamming him into his fridge and following up with my mouth.
I push away those thoughts and listen to my parents drone on about their recent trip to Rome and visiting the Colosseum. I’m glad they’re living their dream of traveling, but I’m ready for them to get on with it.
“Simon is so big now,” Mother says with a fond smile that seems foreign on her face.
Wait… “When did you see Simon?” Isaac didn’t mention anything.
“You never listen, Garrett.” She shakes her head, and I’m hit with a memory of her disappointment when the girls snuck outside to play in her garden and destroyed her petunias.
I was fourteen. Emily was twelve. Janie was only three.
Somehow it was my fault. “We FaceTimed with Jane and Simon on Thanksgiving. Her home is breathtaking.”
Oh, you mean the palace? In Lutiana? But I don’t bother pointing that out.
Or that Jane’s house, east of Mule Creek, is nice but much, much smaller.
Jane is doing well, but it’s hard to get past all the things that happened.
Isaac is a better man than I am. I’m glad he was able to forgive Jane and move past that for Simon’s sake.
My parents talk about Mule Creek and how nothing has changed, ignoring the fact that almost everything has changed.
“Where were you, dear?” Mother asks, studying me with a keen gaze.
I resist the urge to squirm in my seat. Mother used to teach elementary school, and she’s perfected the teacher stare they all seem to have. I clear my throat. “Excuse me?”
“When we called earlier. We waited a long time, Garrett. Were you working?”
It’s not surprising that work is her first guess. “No.”
“Were you in the city?” my father guesses. He means Kansas City. Mule Creek is about an hour east. Geesh, I didn’t take that long.
As I grab my clothes to dress, Aidyn grabs my arm. “Shower with me?”
It’s hard to resist him with his kiss-swollen lips and messy hair. “I have to go, sweetheart,” I say, even as I touch his face, not wanting to leave him.
“Aye, but you can’t meet your parents like that.” There’s a teasing glint in his eyes as they rake over me. “You’re covered in lube.”
“Garrett?”
I blink away the memories and glance up at my father. “What?”
“Were you in the city?”
“No.”
Mother raises a perfectly manicured brow. This conversation won’t be over until I tell them. “I was having dinner with Aidyn and Lanie.”
“Oh.” She blinks, and her gaze darts to my father. When she turns back to me, she says, “That’s a late dinner.”
“Dinner was at six…” Why am I explaining this? I know how to navigate my parents. I’ve done it for most of my life. “Are you going to see Lanie?” Since you missed her last three or ten birthdays.
“Of course we want to see Lanie,” Father says.
“But there’s plenty of time for that.”
“Oh. So, you’re actually staying until Christmas?”
Mother purses her lips. “We just said we were.”
But you never say what you mean. You give statements, and we infer things. Then, when it doesn’t work out, it’s because we got everything wrong. But pointing that out won’t help.
She stands abruptly. “No need to dawdle, David. It’s starting to get dark.”
“Yes, dear. Absolutely right.” My father stands, and relief has me smiling at them.
“Thanks for stopping by—”
Mother furrows her brows. Something she rarely does since it causes wrinkles. “Stopping by? Don’t be ridiculous.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “But you said it was getting late?”
“It is getting late, Garrett. You may be a night owl, but some of us need our sleep.”
A warning bell goes off and my heart jumps around like the stock market after a political scandal. “I don’t— What’s happening?”
“Help your father get the bags from the car, dear.” Mother lightly slaps my arm like I just made a joke. “We’re staying here with you.”