Chapter 39 The Devil’s Tango
Everett
Christmas Eve
Last night meant everything to me. I shouldn’t be surprised. She and I have had sex more times than I can count, and it’s always been incredible, but last night was transcendent.
Something felt different. It felt more intense. It felt like the words that neither of us have ever said.
Our bodies reacted to each other like they never have before, and seeing her covered in my release changed something in my chemistry.
She looked like mine, and seeing her laying there like that with her chest heaving, her pupils blown, her skin flushed—it made me feel feral, like I would go to the ends of this world and the next for her and no one could stop me.
Those three little words were on the tip of my tongue the entire evening, but I didn’t say them for fear it would freak her out again and ruin our night, but I know I’m not going to be able to wait much longer.
My gut’s telling me that she isn’t just beginning to fall for me, that after last night, maybe like me, she’s already there.
“You know, I was thinking…” Claire says, walking into the living room dressed for The Christmas Extravaganza wearing a thick pink sweater, a silk skirt that hits her mid-shin, and ankle boots. Her hair is down.
When she looks up at me, she must see what’s written in my face. “What?” she asks.
“You look beautiful.”
She smiles and walks over to where I stand. Pushing up on her toes, she plants a chaste kiss against my lips.
“I like your turtleneck.” She smirks.
“Are you going to be cold in that skirt? It’s freezing out.”
She lifts the bottom hem, showing off her legs that are covered in opaque tights. “Fleeced-lined tights,” she says. “They look like I’m just wearing tights, but I’m very cozy. They’re like magic.”
“Ha! So what were you thinking?” I ask.
“Oh, right. In the ballet, after “Waltz of the Flowers,” which will be Aster’s entry, the Sugar Plum Fairy and her Cavalier dance, and then all of the Kingdom of Sweets characters return for the finale before sending Clara and the Nutcracker Prince home.”
“Okay, so what does that mean?”
“I don’t think the ballet will be finished once we judge Aster’s cocktail. I think we have to see it through all the way to the end.”
“So, you think Stella needs to dance?”
“Maybe, but it depends on the version. In some of them, when Clara isn’t played by a child, she and the Nutcracker Prince share the final dance.”
“So which one do you think we’re living in?”
“Well I’m not a child, so I think maybe we need to dance tonight just to be sure.”
“Dance?”
She nods her head. “Yeah. Dance.”
“What kind of dance are we talking about? Like the devil’s tango?” I tip my chin toward the bedroom and wiggle my eyebrows.
“No, like a proper dance.” She swats my chest and begins walking toward the coat closet.
“I don’t know,” I say, following her. “Maybe we should try it just to be sure. Don’t you think so?”
I wrap my arms around her waist, flipping her around to face me.
“You can never be too careful with these kinds of things,” I whisper against her neck, and her whole body shudders against me.
“You’re ridiculous. We’ve already had sex twice since we woke up.”
“We could do it again. We have time…”
She shakes her head, letting out a giggle.
“We actually have no time. Stella said to be there at one, and that’s in less than ten minutes.”
I let out a groan.
“Stella might be my least favorite person ever.”
“Come on,” she says, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the door. “We have a ballet to finish.”
Claire and I walk into town with our crowns and sashes in hand. Nerves ripple through me. If this doesn’t work, and we don’t wake up in New York City tomorrow, I don’t know what Claire will do.
“This looks magical,” she says as we walk down the street. “Do you hate it?”
Small booths are set up around the skating rink.
Each one is decked out for the holiday. More lights have been strung above us for when it gets dark.
A tree that rivals Rockefeller Center is waiting to be lit.
Christmas music is being filtered in to add to the ambiance.
The whole town seems to be here laughing and visiting with one another.
Children dart in and out of the crowd, and a few people are skating.
The sense of community wraps me in a warm hug, and the thought of leaving forever makes my chest ache.
“No,” I say, chuckling. “I actually kinda like it.”
She gasps. “Have I converted you to a Christmas lover?”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I jest.
“Oh, come on and admit it.”
“Fine,” I grumble. “I like Christmas.”
She claps her hands together. “I’ll take it, and I knew you would if you gave it a chance.”
“There you two are,” Stella says, hurrying towards us. “I expected you to be here ten minutes ago.”
Claire cuts her eyes at me.
“Sorry,” I say. “We got caught up at the house.”
“Well, quick, put on your crowns and sashes. You two have a competition to judge!”
We follow to the first booth, adjusting the sashes and crowns as we walk.
Chip is standing behind it with a warm smile.
“Chip has been kind enough to set up a tasting tray for you both,” Stella explains. “Remember to take note of overall appearance, taste, and Christmas cheer.”
She hands us two clipboards with score cards attached. “Put your scores here, and then I’ll tally them.”
There’s an antique silver tray sitting on the small counter.
On top is a stack of peppermint bark. Layers of dark, milk, and white chocolate are layered evenly and topped with crushed peppermint.
Every piece is cut into a perfect triangle.
Chip’s lips are pressed together, and his fingers tap against the side of his leg.
“This looks delicious,” Claire says, and Chip attempts a smile. He watches us closely as we each pick up a piece and take a bite.
“Holy shit!” I let out, taking a second bite of my piece.
Each layer of chocolate is creamy and perfectly balanced. It honestly might be the best chocolate I’ve ever tasted, and the peppermint adds a little festive kick.
I knew this would be fucking delicious, and it is. I can’t imagine anyone else is gonna come close.
Chip watches us, and the nerves seem to melt off him as we both react to his creation.
“The recipe was my grandfather’s,” he explains, proudly.
I pick up two more before I’m finished with the first piece. “Just making sure it’s consistent,” I say as I begin to eat again.
Playfully shoving me, Claire shakes her head. “We have seven of these. Pace yourself.”
“What, it’s good,” I say around a mouth full of chocolate.
“Great, now let’s get a photo of all three of you together,” Stella says.
The SDN photographer moves in front of us as we pose, and my mouth falls open when I see who she is—the reporter from the press conference.
“You,” I say, pointing at her and causing Claire to whip her head in my direction.
“You’re looking more settled since the last time I saw you.” The reporter smiles.
“I’m s—”
“Now, Everett,” Stella chimes. “Please smile, we have a busy day. You and Starla can catch up another time.”
Starla brings her camera to her eye.
“Thank you,” Claire says to Chip after we jot down our scores.
More settled? I look over at Claire, who’s smiling and laughing with Stella. Taking a deep breath, I decide it doesn’t matter. I am more settled. I don’t need to analyze what she meant.
“Good afternoon,” Joe says from behind his booth. “Ready for me to blow your minds?”
“You know my husband. He’s convinced he’s going to win this thing and you haven’t even tried his drink yet.” Cami calls from the booth next to his, laughing.
“She’s just afraid I’m going to beat her,” he whispers to the two of us. He slides two mugs to the edge of the counter.
One is bright green and covered with little, three dimensional Christmas lights, and the other is blue with a snowman. Each is topped with a healthy dollop of whipped cream and a dash of nutmeg. Both sit on top of a matching saucer and are accompanied by some sort of long, brown cookie.
“Yes, I’m dying for some caffeine,” Claire says, picking up one of the mugs.
“What’s this?” I ask, pointing to the accompaniment.
“Homemade gingerbread biscotti,” Joe explains. “I think it tastes delicious when dipped into the latte.”
“Thank you,” Claire adds, lifting her mug and tapping it against the edge of mine. “Cheers!”
“Cheers,” I repeat.
We both take a sip, savoring the warm, creamy drink. It’s heavy on the nutmeg and cinnamon, but I don’t hate it. Picking up the biscotti, I dip it in, trying what Joe suggested, and he’s right—it does taste good.
Finishing our drinks, we mark our scores and pose for another photo before moving on along.
“How many more of these desserts do we have to try?” I groan.
“Five.”
“I’m not used to this much sugar.”
“Then maybe don’t eat and drink everything they give us.” She giggles.
“But it’s so good.”
Claire shakes her head.
“Hiya, you two,” Cami sings. “I made a Christmas chai latte.”
Sitting in front of us are two antique Christmas tea cups and saucers. Each one is topped with a simple star anise.
Claire reaches for her cup, and I do the same.
“Cheers!” I say, and we tap our cups together and take a sip. It’s delicious, but not what I would usually drink. The spices overpower my mouth, and I smile through a few more sips before setting the cup down.
“The latte was delicious,” Claire says to Cami.
“Blink twice if it was better than Joe’s,” she says playfully, looking back at her husband.
“Hey, no canoodling with the judges,” Joe calls.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “We won’t be giving anything away until the end.”
“Thanks for stopping by you two,” Cami says, after we’ve taken yet another photo.
Claire begins to write down her scores as we walk away, and I peek over her shoulder.
“Hey,” she scolds. “You can’t copy me. Pick your own scores.”
“Come on,” I whisper. “Let me see what you gave her.”
“That’s not how it works.”
“I’ll trade a kiss to see your scores.”
“No.”
I bend down close to her ear. “I’ll do that thing with my tongue that you like if you—”
She shoves me away, a blush covering her face. “Tempting, but no. We have to do it right.”
“Fine,” I grumble as I do my best to judge Cami’s latte.
Three Down. Five to go.