Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Hollie
I wake up with a splitting great headache and Annie crawling into my bed.
“Did you just get in?” I ask her, spying the morning light creeping in around the curtains.
“Yep,” she says, a great big grin on her face, cheeks a rosy red, and smelling like aftershave.
“Did you have fun?” I say as she snuggles up under the covers and we face each other on the bed.
“Lots of fun,” she says. “In fact – three lots of fun.”
“Three?” I say. “Geez, where’d you get the energy, Annie?”
She kicks me under the covers. “Says an Omega.”
“An Omega who hasn’t had any action for at least a year, remember?” I tell her. “Anyway, we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. Did you go back to his place?”
“Sure,” she says. “We went back to his place, and we went to his truck, and we went...” She pauses, eyes twinkling with mischief, “to the back room of the bar.”
“You dirty little thing,” I say in pretend outrage, completely delighted for my friend. “Was it hot?”
“Yep, flaming hot,” she says, then grimaces. “But I realize I’m also a seriously bad best friend.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I am,” she says, doing a little guilty pout. “I took you out dancing on your first night here, then totally ditched you for a guy. That’s not what best friends do. I promise to be on my best behavior from now on.”
“Annie,” I say, “I got drunk, and your big brother had to take me home because I vomited in the snow outside the bar.”
“You did?” she says.
“Yep, right by his boots. In fact, I think there were one or two chunks that landed on his toes.”
“Ew,” Annie says, “but also – great aim. He was such an asshole last night.”
“Not really,” I say. “He looked after me.”
“Too right. It’s his duty as my brother,” Annie says. “Anyway, let’s not talk about my big brother when we’re in bed together.” I giggle. “How do you feel now?”
I groan. “I feel like my skull’s about to split open inside my head.”
“Gross,” Annie says. “Drink some water and let’s go back to sleep.”
I fumble around, finding Annie has brought a glass to bed with her. I chug it down, snuggle back up in bed with my best friend, and soon I’m fast asleep.
We’re woken several hours later by a knock on the door.
“You girls alive in there?” Mr. J’s voice says through the woodwork.
“Just about,” Annie replies.
“Would a vegetarian breakfast burrito help you at all?”
“Yes, please,” Annie calls out.
“Hash browns?” he asks.
“Obviously,” Annie says. “Eggs?”
“What do you take me for? An Amateur?”
“Green chile?” she asks.
“Yep, green chile too – but it’s gonna get cold, so get a wriggle on, girls!”
I take a shower, brush my teeth about a billion times, and then find Annie.
We make our way back down to the kitchen, Annie reliving some of the more memorable moments from her evening.
There’s a feast waiting for us on the kitchen table, along with steaming hot coffee and an enthusiastic greeting from both Dolly and Kenny.
I drop onto the nearest chair with a groan, thanking Mr. J with all of my heart.
Annie does the same, and we’re silent for the next ten minutes as we stuff ourselves with food, down as much coffee as we can and I sneak bits of egg to Dolly under the table.
Then we both lean back on our chairs, our tummies most definitely full.
“So,” she asks me, “think you can face the day now? How’s the head?”
“Much, much better,” I say, sipping on my fourth cup of black coffee.
“You know what would help even more – some good old country air?”
I glance toward the window. It’s not snowing today, but there’s still a thick blanket of it lying on the ground.
“Are we going out riding?” As much as that’s my favorite (if not frequented enough) pastime, I’m not sure I can stomach the idea with a flaming great handover.
“I thought something a little more gentle might be called for,” Annie says, probably noting how green my complexion appears this morning.
“Yes, please.”
“A leisurely stroll?”
I grimace. I only have my sneakers. And as nice as it was for Mrs. J to lend me her lucky boots, there’s no way I’m traipsing through the snow in those. I won’t be responsible for ruining them.
“I’ve got nothing to wear on my feet,” I tell my friend.
“That’s okay,” she says. “We have a billion pairs of snow boots. I’ll find something that’ll work – and probably an old jacket as well – that would be better than that stupid red one you brought with you.”
“Hey,” I say.
“Hollie, if you were caught out in a snowstorm wearing that red coat, you’d perish in about a minute flat.”
“Fair enough,” I say. “But the winter coat choices in Rockview weren’t exactly vast.”
She nods in understanding. Annie spent the first year of college in Rockview sweltering in the heat, complaining about it non-stop. She really missed the cold weather of Colorado.
We go fumbling through the cupboard with all the spare winter gear and, after a while, find me a suitable pair of boots, some waterproof trousers, and an extra-warm coat. We also pull out a woolly hat and matching mittens.
We wrap ourselves up warm and then head out into the cold, taking a detour to the stables first to say good morning to all the horses and to feed them some carrot-y treats.
Then we take a walk around the yard, Annie pointing out the different fields, the different machinery, and the different mountains in the distance.
It’s a bright, sunny day, and I have to admit, I like the contrast of the sunshine and the cold – my breath forming little white clouds in front of my face, and my coat warm and snuggly, even though the end of my nose is cold.
The bright sunshine reflects off the snow, and it’s so beautiful it makes my chest ache.
I wonder how Annie ever had the strength to leave Big Sky Ranch. I know she comes back as often as she can, but I think if I lived here, I’d never want to leave. I don’t think I’d even miss the beach. Who needs sand and sea when you can have mountains and snow?
Annie is also right about the fresh air. I can feel my headache melting away, as well as all the embarrassing memories from last night. We link arms like an old married couple, and Annie continues her long description of the events from last night as we walk across the snowy fields.
“I’m telling you, Hollie, the man has such hard abs you could chop wood on them – and possibly the most beautiful dick I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” She sighs dramatically. “In fact, the whole man is just completely, spectacularly, jaw-droppingly beautiful.”
I make a little face, and my best friend catches me do it from the corner of her eye.
“What?” she says, obviously a little insulted. “You don’t think he’s hot?”
“Oh no,” I say, “completely, totally hot – and totally your type.”
Annie’s always gone for the bad-boy types with all the tattoos and piercings in strange places.
“Then what was with your face?” she says, not letting it go.
“It’s just,” I pause, “I can appreciate a fine set of abs and even a beautiful cock.” Annie nods in agreement. “But you have to admit, there are certain parts of a man’s anatomy that aren’t so pleasant to look at.”
Annie tilts her head to one side. “Go on,” she says.
“Well,” I say, “the asshole, for starters.”
Annie laughs. “You don’t find an asshole attractive?”
“No,” I shake my head. “I know that’s some people’s thing, but for me, it’s always looked a bit – well, puckered.”
Annie laughs even harder. “Is that it? Or are there any other parts?”
“Toes,” I say. “I can’t stand strangely long toes. And also, balls.”
Annie gasps. “Balls? I love a pair of balls!”
I pull another face. “They’re just so funny-looking,” I say. “Some especially so – they look like ... wrinkled old walnuts.”
Annie laughs even harder, so hard she’s forced to stop walking and bend over, clutching her stomach.
“Oh my goodness. I’m done with you, Hollie,” she says. “I’m never going to be able to crack a set of nuts again.”
“What kind of nuts are we talking about here?” I ask her as she roars even louder.
“The kind you eat!”
“Still not helping,” I say, because I know my friend has a penchant for sucking on a pair of balls.
“Never mind,” Annie says, straightening and wiping at her eyes with her gloves. “What do you want to do now?”
I peer out across the snow-covered landscape and then look back at my friend.
“There is one thing,” I say, “but maybe…” I trail off.
“What is it, Hollie?” she asks.
“This is only my second time in snow, right?” Annie nods. “And the first time, it was slushy and wet and no good. Which means I’ve never …”
“You’ve never?” Annie asks.
“Built a snowman.”
Annie jumps back in horror. “Never?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Never,” I say. “I’m a snowman virgin.”
“Oh my goodness,” Annie says, putting her hands on her hips, “that is something we must address even more urgently than the sex drought.”
I nod my head enthusiastically.
“Hollie do you …” she breaks into song, “wanna build a snowman?”
I nod even more enthusiastically, and Annie taps her chin.
“Let me think – where would be the best place to build it? I think back at the house. Then we’ve got access to hats and scarves and all the other paraphernalia we need.
Holy shit, Hollie, we are going to make the best damn snowman in the history of the earth! ”
I smile back at her. “Yes, please.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re rolling big boulders of snow around the front yard. The snow catches on the ball and it increases in size with every roll until we have a body that reaches up to my middle and a head that makes the snowman about my height.
“Not bad,” Annie says, standing back and brushing snow off her gloves. “Now we just need to decorate him.”
“And name him,” I say.
“Name comes after we’ve finished decorating him,” Annie explains. “I’ve got to understand what his personality is like first.”
I nod in agreement.
“Stay here,” she says, and runs up into the house.