Chapter 16
16
GAbrIEL
“O kay.” I walk down the stairs, putting my shirt on. “You have one hour, and I’ll be back to get you.” I look in the kitchen and find it empty. “Sweetheart,” I call her by the nickname I gave her and can’t stop using.
“I’m right here.” She comes around the corner from the living room. “I like to look out the window when I have my coffee in the morning.” She’s wearing a robe she slipped on after sitting on my face right before I showered. Her hair is piled on her head as she holds her cup of coffee in both hands.
“You going to be ready in thirty minutes?” I wait for her to walk to me, wrapping my arm around her waist.
“That depends.” She looks up at me, and I bend to kiss her lips. When she walked into the bar last night, I wanted to do two things. I wanted to shut down the bar and toss everyone else out, and then when I saw my cousin flirting with her, I almost throat punched him. What I did do was drag her to my office and finger-fuck her, then she spent the rest of the night sitting on the stool right where I was working. We ended the night with her moaning my name over and over again, and I have to say, it was one of the best days I’ve had in a long, long time.
“What does it depend on?”
“Well, are you taking me out to a black-tie dinner?” She tries to hide the fact she wants to burst out laughing. “Or are you taking me to ride a horse?”
“No to the first one”—I shake my head—“and maybe to the second one, but that might be later.”
“Okay, I need to know what to wear.” She gets on her tippy-toes and kisses my neck before whispering, “And do I need to wear panties or just toss those to the side?”
My fingers dig into her hips. “Colson will be with us.” Her eyes go big. “So it’s a good idea to put those panties on.”
She steps out of my arms, avoiding looking at me while walking back into the kitchen and putting her mug in the sink. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she finally says, turning to look at me.
“And why is that?” I try not to be offended that she doesn’t want to meet my son.
“It’s just…” She tries to think of the words.
“It’s just that all we are is fuck buddies,” I fill it in for her, ignoring the way those words feel like bile in my mouth. “Trust me, we both know that this isn’t going to go anywhere.” My neck feels like someone took an iron rod and branded me. “You are here for two weeks.”
“I am, and then I’m going to leave,” she confirms. “So it’s silly to introduce me to your son. Which, even if I wasn’t leaving, would be nuts since I’ve known you for three days.”
“But you’re family,” I point out, “so you’ll be there for Sunday barbecue, and you’ll be there for the Christmas Eve celebration.” Her eyes look shocked. “You can’t think that you’ll be in town and my uncle, grandparents, and cousins would leave you by yourself.” I shake my head. “There is no way in hell.” She doesn’t even try to argue with me because she knows it’s true. “I’m going to get Colson, and then we will swing by and get you. All he is going to know is that you are a family friend, and we leave it at that.” She stands there looking at me, thinking about how to turn me down. “You have thirty minutes.” I don’t give her a chance to change her mind or come up with another excuse. Grabbing my jacket from the floor, where it fell when we were frantic to get each other naked, I put it on. “Be good, Sweetheart.” I look at her standing there watching. I wink at her before I walk out of the door, going to my truck, and pulling out my phone at the same time. I dial Patricia, who answers after one ring. “Hey,” I say, “just got in the truck.”
“He’s ready on the couch,” she replies.
“Be there soon.” I hang up the phone and make my way over to my ex-wife’s house. Patricia and I met in high school. She was my high school girlfriend, and we were madly in love with each other. Fast-forward, we married at twenty and had Colson right away, but we grew into two different people. We grew apart, and in order not to end up hating each other and making each other miserable, we did the most responsible thing as adults—we split up. Colson was two at the time, so he didn’t even notice. Now we split him half and half, one week on, one week off, but if he wants to come to my house when it’s Patricia’s week, he comes, and when he wants to go to her house when it’s my week, he goes. We’ve never used him as a weapon against each other.
I pull up to the house my parents gave us when we got married. A house that she paid me for when we got divorced. A house she now has a family in, including two other children with another man, a decent man. He’s a deputy and works with my grandfather. The whole front of the house is decorated for Christmas, and the front door opens as soon as I open my truck door. “Dad!” Colson shouts, running down the stairs wearing jeans and a T-shirt with his jacket on. “I’m ready.”
“Hey, kiddo,” I say, hugging him and kissing the top of his head. “Where is your bag?”
“I’m going to come back here tomorrow after school. Finny,” he says of his little brother, “has his Christmas play.”
“Okay, let me go and talk to your mom,” I tell him, and he nods as I walk up the three steps and knock on the door before it’s opened.
“Hey, sorry,” Patricia says, holding on to her one-year-old in her arms. “I was feeding Meri,” she says of her daughter, “and your son just skyrocketed out of the house.” I smile at her. “I just wanted to remind you that we are taking off on Christmas Day.” I nod. “If it’s still okay, we are going to go stay with Eric’s parents.”
“Sounds good. I’ll get him Christmas Eve, and we can do gifts Christmas morning, then I’ll drop him off.”
“That works.” She smiles at me. “Have fun today.”
“We will,” I assure her, turning and walking down the steps and heading back to the truck where Colson sits in the back, his seat belt already on.
“You ready?” I look over my shoulder, starting the truck and pulling out of the driveway. I wait until we are on the way before I speak to Colson. “So you know Sofia’s husband, Matty?”
“The hockey player?” he asks me, and I nod. “He’s sick. I watched the highlights this morning, and he did something with the stick and the puck, and you didn’t even see it go into the net,” he gushes over Matty.
“That is him.” I look in the rearview mirror. “Well, his sister came to stay for a couple of weeks, so I invited her to come with us today.” I watch to see if he’s going to have a reaction, but he doesn’t.
“Cool,” he says, totally unfazed by the fact I’m bringing a woman with us, maybe because she’s family, I have no idea. He’s never seen me with a woman before. I vowed I would never introduce him to anyone I didn’t see a future with, which has been no one. Until now, which is a catch-22 since she is leaving in two weeks.
I pull up to the house, and he’s already unbuckled by the time I put the truck in park. I meet him in front of the truck, and he looks up at me with my matching eyes. “Ready?” I ask him as we walk up the steps, and I knock on the door instead of walking in.
The door opens right away, and I’m speechless or breathless or whatever it is that you are when you think you’ve seen the most beautiful woman in the world, but then you look again, and she’s even more beautiful than the last time you saw her. “Hey.” She smiles at us. “I’m ready.” She slips her black vest over her big white knitted sweater before wrapping a long scarf around her neck. She’s wearing another pair of tight black pants, but no high heels this time. Instead, she wears hiking boots.
“Colson,” I say, turning to look at my son, “this is Miss Zara.”
She comes over and holds out her hand for my son. “Colson, it’s so good to meet you.”
“Ma’am,” my ever-polite son replies to her, and she gasps.
“No ma’am needed,” she teases him. “Save that for the older ladies.” She winks at him, making him laugh.
“Go get into the truck.” I squeeze his shoulder. “I’m going to make sure Miss Zara locked all the doors.”
“Got it, Dad.” He runs back to the truck as I step into the house.
“I locked all the doors properly.” She sighs as I step in and move to the side so Colson won’t see me leaning down and kissing her lips.
“Hi,” I say after I have her pushed up against the wall, and she looks at me with hooded eyes. “Did you miss me?”
“No,” she answers, and I know she’s lying, or at least maybe I hope she is.
“You’re cute when you lie,” I tell her, and she pushes me away.
“None of that in front of your son,” she warns. “You will be on your best behavior.”
“Scout’s honor,” I say, holding up my fingers as she walks out of the house in front of me.
“What level did you get to?” she asks over her shoulder, her hair moving side to side at the same time as her hips.
“The first one, and then I quit since it was boring,” I admit. “Besides, when you have a father who served in the military as a Green Beret and takes you on all these cooler trips, it was not my thing.” I smirk when I stop at the passenger door, opening it for her. “But for two days, I was the best Scout there was.”
“I bet you were,” she mumbles as she gets into the truck. “So where are we going?” she asks when I get into the driver’s seat. She looks at me and then in the back at Colson, who is about to tell her, and I hold up my hand.
“It’s a surprise,” I say, winking at Colson, who loves playing surprise games.
“Yeah,” he mimics me, “it’s a surprise, Miss Zara.”
“Okay,” she relents, buckling her seat belt, “but I’m going to need hints and clues.” She goes along with the game. She spends the whole hour ride trying to come up with questions about where we are going, and each time, she is wrong. Colson is so excited that when we get close, he’s about to cave and just tell her where we are going.
I pull into the long driveway that leads to a big red barn, similar to the one near Sofia’s house, but this one is different. “It’s colder here,” Zara observes, looking at me. “There is some snow on the ground.” She points to the side of the path where Christmas trees are lined up, and the twinkle lights are lit even though it’s sunny outside. We pull into an empty parking space, and she looks around. “I still have no idea what we are doing,” she says, looking around. “Are we going hiking?”
“Nope, Miss Zara,” Colson says, almost snickering from the back. I put the truck in park, and he snaps off his seat belt. “When can we tell her, Dad?” he asks me as he leans between us. “Before or after the hot chocolate?”
“Maybe we should tell her before; put her out of her misery.” I look over at Zara who watches the two of us.
Colson turns to look at her. “Are you in misery, Miss Zara?” he asks, concerned.
“I’m almost there,” she admits to him, “but I think I can wait.” She smiles big, making him smile even bigger.
“Then let’s go, Miss Zara,” he urges, opening the back door and jumping out of the truck before opening her door and holding out his hand. She puts her hand in his as they walk to the back of the truck, where I meet them. “Let’s go, Dad.” He pulls her with him, wanting to let her in on the big secret. The sound of Zara laughing along the way to the red barn only stops when she reads the sign on top of the barn and gasps.
“Is this a Christmas tree farm?” she voices in disbelief.
“It is, Miss Zara.” Colson jumps up and down, laughing the whole time.
Her eyes roam around as she puts her hands to her mouth. “I’ve heard of this,” she says in wonderment, “but I’ve never actually been.”
“Do you like Christmas, Miss Zara?” Colson asks her as we walk into the barn that has been converted into a little restaurant area and gift shop.
“It’s my favorite holiday,” she tells him. “I love it.” I put my arm around her, and she looks up at me, and it takes everything in me not to lean down and kiss her lips. “I am so excited.” She looks around. “What do we do?” she asks like a kid in a candy store. “Where do we go?”
“First, we get hot chocolate,” Colson tells her, “then we get to walk outside and pick a tree.” He points at the side door that leads up to the rows and rows of different trees. “Then Dad takes it back to his house, and we decorate it.” He leans in to her. “He swears sometimes about the needles being everywhere,” he whispers, making Zara laugh.
“I’m sure he does,” she replies as we walk to the counter, and I order us three hot chocolates. I hand her the first one and then hold one out for Colson and then take my own.
“I’m too excited to drink,” she prattles as she follows Colson, with me a step behind her. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything prettier,” she states as Colson leads her down the path toward the trees. “There are just so many trees.” She looks around. “How do you pick?”
“You’ll know when you see it, Miss Zara,” Colson assures her. “Some are too skinny”—he points at a couple of trees—“you have to make sure that it looks full.” He points at the short full ones. “But not too short.”
“Got it.” Zara goes with him as they walk side by side, pointing out different trees. It takes them over an hour to find the one. They hem and haw over three of them and narrow it down. The whole time, I just watch the two of them becoming friends. They laugh together at certain things, and Zara goes out of her way to always ask his opinion.
“Okay, Dad,” Colson announces, “it’s this one, right, Miss Zara?” He points, then looks over at Zara for her approval, who just nods and claps her hands together. “Yup, this one.”
“What happens now?” she asks Colson. “Do we carry it to the car?”
“No, Dad gets a wagon, and when we get home, we carry it in.” He leans in. “Dad usually ends up carrying it in, but this year, I got stronger, so I’m going to help.”
“I can help too,” she tells him. “I may not be as strong as you, but I work out.”
I try not to laugh at her as I grab a wagon nearby and pluck the tree out of the hole. It takes forty minutes to get it back to the truck and loaded. I take off my gloves, tossing them on the middle console, before starting the truck and making my way back home. “You good with coming to decorate?” I ask her when we are almost home.
“She has to come and decorate,” Colson says from the back. “It’s tradition. Whoever picks the tree decorates it.”
“Well,” she agrees as I look over at her, “I can’t break tradition.”
“Do you have any traditions, Miss Zara?” Colson asks her.
“I do.” She looks over at him. “One, I always put up my tree the day after Thanksgiving. As soon as I get home from Thanksgiving dinner, I start taking out my boxes.”
“That’s so soon.” His eyes are big.
“Yes, but then I get to enjoy it longer.”
He nods like he gets it. “What else do you do, Miss Zara?”
“I decorate the tree and then change all my pillows and bedding.” She smiles at him. “I bake,” she admits. “I’m not good at all, but I try to bake one Christmas dessert every week.” She grimaces. “I have yet to make anything edible.” This makes him laugh. “I also pick out five new decorations for my tree every season.” Her hands are as animated as she is. “It’s little things that make me remember the holiday. Like this year, I got one for RC,” she tells him of Sofia and Matty’s first baby.
“That’s a cool one to do,” Colson says, looking at me. “We should do that.”
I nod, agreeing, as I pull into the driveway of my house, and she takes it in. “Welcome to our home,” I say as she checks it out. The house has been in the family since before I was born, but then I got it, gutted it, and redesigned it. It’s an open floor plan with three bedrooms.
We all get out of the truck, and I look over at Colson. “Go get the front door opened.” When he runs toward the front door, I look at Zara. “If you don’t want to decorate, then you don’t have to stay.”
She leans against the back of the truck. “Are you saying you don’t want me here in your house?” She raises her eyebrows.
“Of course not.” I open the back of the truck bed, putting on my gloves. “I’m just saying that you don’t have to be here.”
“Thanks for the out, Cowboy”—she steps closer to me—"but if it’s okay with you, I’ll stay.” She steps toe to toe with me. “I’m having one of my best days.”
“Is that so?” I question, happy she’s smiling and has been all day. “Well, if you play your cards right—” I lick my lips. “It might get better.” She throws her head back and laughs a full-on belly laugh, and I feel it right in my dick.
“I can’t wait,” she retorts and takes a step away from me when she hears Colson coming back. “Okay, where do you want me?”
“On your knees in front of me,” I tease, right before Colson gets to us. “You can direct us in,” I tell her, grabbing the tree by the bottom and sliding it out until the middle. “I’m going to grab this end.” I point at the bottom and the middle. “Colson, get the top.”
“On it, Dad,” he states, coming over. The two of us carry the tree into the house while Zara tells us left or right. We get into the house, and I can hear the pine needles falling, making a trail all the way from the front door past the office on the left and the game room that Colson took over on the right.
We go into the massive family room that leads to the kitchen, taking it straight to the corner of the room, right near the back patio door. “I love this room,” Zara announces, looking around. “The tall ceilings are amazing with the wooden beams showing.” She looks around. “And the couch is a perfect shade of ecru.”
“Ecru?” Colson asks.
“She means beige,” I fill him in and smile at her. “Okay.” I take off my gloves when the tree is in the holder. “I’ll go get the boxes from the garage.” I look at Colson. “Show Zara the house.” I stop. “But not my bedroom. I’ll give her that tour.” I wink at her while she plans my murder, walking out of the house smiling.