Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Max
Narrator: Our dear friend Max just found a land where kitten kisses are payment and unicorns rain candy down on all the peasants. Where rainbows are real-life slides and Brenda Lee is constantly rocking around the Christmas tree, never getting tired.
Yes, he’s hit the apex of all orgasms.
He’s seen the light.
He now knows what it means to touch heaven but not fully accept an invitation.
Don’t let me bore you with the summary. How about we let him explain it instead?
This is what euphoria is—the feeling after being inside Betty.
It’s like my dick is being carried around on a velvet pillow in a parade of sex where all the luckiest of people get to experience raw joy.
Yes, that’s what this is. Raw joy.
Nothing is better.
Nothing is more satisfying.
Nope, it’s my dick and Betty’s pussy that’s the combination. I feel really bad for all of you sad motherfuckers who don’t have that combination, because wow.
She thought I was horny before, well she better look out, because after being inside her, fucking bare, there’s no looking back now. Hell, as I wait for her to be done in the bathroom, I’m gearing up for round two.
I’m like a young man all over again, ready to wield my cock like a freshly sharpened katana and come all over the place.
Her pussy did that to me.
Her pussy and her eyes.
Well, her pussy, her eyes, and those tits.
Fuck, the way they bounced as I moved in and out of her.
And fuck, how she clenched around me. Like a goddamn vise down there.
She’s perfect.
Everything about her is perfect.
And I’m so fucking lucky that she came to this town and tried to put me out of business. Something I wouldn’t have thought a couple of weeks ago.
The bathroom door opens, and I look over my shoulder from where I’m sitting on her couch and watch her cross the room, her beautiful naked body swaying with every step.
When she reaches me, I pull her down on my boxer brief–clad lap, and she says, “Not fair. Why do you have clothes on?”
“So I didn’t fucking jump you the minute you got out of the bathroom. Trying to tell myself to give you a break, that you might be sore. Are you?”
“I might be a little.”
I smooth my hand over her soft skin. “Shit, I’m sorry. I sort of lost control—”
“Don’t apologize.” She cups my cheek. “I loved it. I loved everything about it. Don’t second-guess a thing.”
“Okay.” I turn and kiss the palm of her hand. Her eyes glitter at me, her smile so sincere. God, I don’t want to leave. I want to stay. I want to hold her tonight. I want to wake up in the morning with her in my arms. Make her breakfast again. Take a shower with her. Get her dressed.
Fuck her so many more times.
Looking her in the eyes and knowing I’m taking a chance, I say, “Can I stay tonight? With you?”
“You want to?” she asks.
“Desperately,” I answer. And this is how I know that Betty is so special. I have never been so desperate to stay with a woman overnight. Yes, the sex may have been great, but this woman gets me like no other woman has before. I’m completely gone for her.
The corners of her lips turn up. “I’d love for you to stay. I even have a dentist-approved toothbrush you can use.”
That makes me chuckle. “You make it hard for me to leave when you say things like that.”
So these cottages were not made for people like me. For a little sprite like Betty, sure, it’s perfect, but for a six-foot-four man with long legs and a barrel of a chest, not so much.
After we got ready for bed, Betty led the way up to her loft. I had to contort my body up the small set of stairs and then get on all fours to crawl to her bed because the ceiling is so low.
I can tell you right now, it’s a good thing I fucked her on her living room rug, because if she watched me climb those stairs with an erection, she probably never would have stopped laughing.
“Are you comfortable?” she asks as she rests her head on my shoulder, cuddling in close.
“Now I am,” I answer. I kiss the top of her head, perfectly content.
She lightly chuckles. “Good, because for a second there, I thought you were going to cramp up getting up here.”
“Me too,” I say, thinking about how my leg got caught in her sheet and I had a hell of a time getting it out. It’s a shock that she finds me as attractive as she does, given my clumsiness. I’m just glad she wasn’t witness to me tripping headfirst into the family Christmas tree.
“This was the perfect end to a perfect date. Thank you.” She kisses my jaw, and I melt into her mattress, so goddamn content.
“And you thought you didn’t want to spend the night with me again,” I tease.
“Looks like I didn’t know what I really wanted.”
“Do you now?”
She nods her head. “I do.” Then she’s silent for a moment.
“Is there a follow-up to that? I’m sensing there is.”
“I mean . . . I just, I think I’m getting in my head.”
“About what?”
“I’m getting nervous, because I, um, I really have a liking for you.”
I chuckle. “I really have a liking for you as well.”
“You better.” She pokes me. “But I’m also worried.”
“Worried about what? Trust me, I’m not going anywhere. And tomorrow when I’m chopping down trees and helping families out at the farm, I’ll be thinking about tonight the entire time.”
“I’m not worried about you. I’m worried about Uncle Dwight.”
“Oh, yeah, I’ve been thinking about that.”
“When he finds out, he’s going to . . . God, he’ll be so upset with me.
He’ll think I betrayed him, that I’m purposefully trying to hurt him.
That’s not the case at all. I just think .
. . I think he’s wrong about you, and I need to find a way to make him see that, you know?
But I don’t know how when he’s so mad, when he’s so caught up in what he thinks you did. ”
“I know. I worry about it too. I want to find a way to talk to him myself, to maybe see what I can do to make it better. We’ve been feuding for years, but at this point, not only am I over it, but I don’t want it to jeopardize anything I have with you.”
“Same.”
“I can talk to him when he gets back, have a serious conversation with him, and hopefully he can listen to me.”
“Maybe I should talk to him first, let him know how I feel.”
I shake my head. “No, I think that will put him on the defense. I think if I talk to him first and possibly clear the air, that might open his mind to the idea of you and me.”
She thinks on that. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.” Then she clears her throat and asks, “On the subject of you and me, is there a definition there? Would you say we’re dating?”
“Yes, I would,” I answer honestly. “Together exclusively if you don’t mind.”
She chuckles. “I prefer the exclusivity part. I don’t need some tree-chopping hussy coming into Evergreen Farm thinking she can proposition you.”
“First of all, never seen a tree-chopping hussy other than you.”
She gasps, making me laugh.
“And even if a tree-chopping hussy propositioned me, I’d say, Sorry, lady, but this dick belongs to Betty.”
“Pretty bold statement.”
“A correct statement.”
She kisses and rubs her thumb over my chest. “How did this all happen? How did we go from me nailing you in the head with a Pepsi bottle to this?”
“I think about that all the time.”
“And seriously, why were you trying to break into my place?”
Groaning in exasperation, I say, “I was not trying to break in.”
She chuckles and kisses my chest again. “Okay, but a crowbar, that’s suspicious.”
“And as a man who has now been to the jail in our small town, I realize it was not the wisest choice of weapon to keep me safe from murderous bears. But let the record state that I had zero intention of breaking into your place. I just wanted a peek inside.”
“Do you regret peeking inside?”
“No,” he answers. “But I do regret bringing chocolate-covered pretzels and popcorn over, because that two-liter to the chest was unnecessary.”
She chuckles. “Self-defense is important.”
“Yeah, I’d hate to meet up with you in a soda aisle at the grocery store, that’s for damn sure. Imagine the carnage.”
“I’d decimate everyone on that battleground.”
I run my hand along her hip, loving this moment of levity, how I can joke around with her, tease her.
There’s nothing but joy here. I can’t say that how Storee and I set out to woo Betty has completely disappeared from my mind.
I’m sure Betty and I will talk about it sometime and have a good laugh at our ridiculousness.
That’s for another day. But this last forty-eight hours with Betty has given me a whole new perspective on relationships and what I want when it comes to the perfect person for me.
And right now, it’s looking a lot like Betty.
Betty
I set my coffee down and blow out a heavy breath before I pick up my phone. I stare down at the text thread with Uncle Dwight.
I don’t know how to approach this. I know Atlas wants to talk to him and clear the air, but maybe I can lay a little groundwork.
I cross one leg over the other and look out the window of Warm Your Spirits, trying to come up with the right phrasing. Well, step number one would be to ask how his conference is going, so I lead with that.
Betty: Hey, just checking in. How’s the conference? Had a pretty bad storm here, lost some power at the cottage but made it through.
Don’t tell him how I made it through, because that doesn’t really need to be stated.
Coffee cake in front of me—I’m going to finally try it after my failed attempt last time—I cut off a piece with my fork and place it in my mouth.
So moist.
The moistest.
So much of this cake is moist that I don’t think I’ll ever get over just how moist it really is.
Love a moist cake.
Moist. Moist. Moist.
“How is it?” Tanya asks as she sets a napkin down at my table.
“Moist,” I say with a smile, causing her to cringe.
“Such a cringe word.”
“Moist?” I ask. “No, it’s a perfect descriptor, especially for a cake. Not too wet, just damp enough to not choke you out while eating.”
She chuckles. “Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”
I take another bite as my phone vibrates with a text. “So moist.”
She shakes her head in mirth. “Well, enjoy.”
I set my fork down and am surprised when I see a text from Atlas on my phone.
Max: Wishing we had another snowstorm right about now. Just watched Cole shovel reindeer excrement, and let’s just say, it did nothing for me.
I chuckle and text him back, feeling all kinds of giddy.
Betty: Does Cole shoveling usually do something for you?
Max: I mean, depends on whether I’m in the mood to marvel at his forearms or not.
Betty: Didn’t know I had competition. Is Storee aware?
Max: She’s very aware of our sick and twisted relationship. Glad you’re starting to clue in. Also, how are you feeling?
Betty: Sore, but a good kind of sore.
Max: I’m sorry. I know you don’t want me apologizing, but I am, I’m sorry. I fucking lost all sense of control last night. I blame it on how you wouldn’t stop squeezing around me.
Betty: Blame that on your size.
Max: You know what? I will take the blame.
Betty: That’s awfully big of you. What a true gentleman.
Max: I try. What are you doing later? Can I stop by? I have something for you.
Betty: Really?
Max: Yeah, really.
Betty: Just working on my proposal for Dwight, but I’m open to visitors.
Max: Good, because I’m a visitor and I want to see you.
Betty: Want me to cook dinner?
Max: If you want to, but you don’t have to.
Betty: I’d like to do something nice for you.
Max: Then consider me your dinner date.
Betty: Okay, see you tonight.
Max: See you tonight, Betty.
I can’t hold back my smile as I pick up my coffee and take a sip. How Atlas was still available by the time I came along, I will never understand.
My phone buzzes, and when I think it’s Atlas again, I smile down at my phone only to see a text from Uncle Dwight. Oh, right.
I open up the thread and read his response.
Uncle Dwight: Conference is boring like it is every year. It’s more of a way to network. You lost power? Huh, that shouldn’t have happened.
I’m about to type back and say that Atlas says it happens when there are high winds, but I catch myself.
Betty: Well, I heard that it happens with high winds out here.
Uncle Dwight: Who did you hear that from?
Oh crap.
I waver on what I should say. I could tell him the truth, but I feel like that will end in him not talking to me. Or I can give him a little white lie so that he doesn’t freak out and start building up ideas in his head that will only hurt my chances in the long run.
I choose the white lie.
Betty: BKJ
I wince as I press Send and hope that it doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass.
Uncle Dwight: Oh, interesting. That’s something that should be fixed. When I get back, I’ll talk to a few people to ensure that doesn’t happen again.
Huh, well, that’s nice of him. I don’t know why I have this inexplicable feeling that he’s out to get me, because he’s not.
He hasn’t been from the beginning. He’s been helpful; he’s wanted to see me succeed.
And yet I have this doomsday feeling when I think about him.
And I know it has to do with Atlas and the feelings I have for him.
Uncle Dwight clearly won’t approve of them.
I just wish this entire situation was different.
That there wasn’t a rift between the two of them.
Uncle Dwight: Other than that, everything else good?
I roll my lips together and text him back as nerves bounce around inside me.
Betty: Everything’s good. I have this new idea that I’m trying to flesh out, but I think it would be better than our initial plan. I’ve immersed myself in the town and I’ve found some areas where they’re lacking, so putting that all together.
Uncle Dwight: That’s great. I can’t wait to hear it. I’ll be back on the twenty-third. Talked to your parents, and I think they’re coming for Christmas as well.
Wait, he talked to my parents? When did he do that? And how come my parents didn’t say anything to me?
Uncle Dwight: Oh shit, wait, that was supposed to be a surprise. Fuck, when they come, you have to act surprised.
Oh, well, that makes more sense.
Betty: That’s fun. I think I can manage acting surprised. It will be nice to have my parents here for the holidays.
Uncle Dwight: I thought so too. Hey, I have to get to another meeting. We’ll chat later. Can’t wait to see the presentation.
Betty: Okay, have fun.
I set my phone down as I absorb the information about my parents coming to visit.
I’m excited to see them, excited to have them here in Kringle, but I just got a whole bunch more nervous.
Uncle Dwight’s non-reaction to my alternative development was odd.
He’d been so determined to destroy the Maxheimers’ farm and livelihood, so his jovial acceptance just doesn’t ring true.
Ugh.
If only this was easier.