Chapter 14 Garrett
Chapter fourteen
Garrett
The air outside is deceptively cold – the sky a bright blue, giving false hope for a warm December day.
Not that I mind the chilly weather – being a bit of a homebody, staying in when it’s icy out, is one of my favourite ways to spend an evening.
Throw in a cup of hot chocolate and a good book, and I can’t think of anything better.
My feet halt. Actually, yes I can. Because now I’ve had the pleasure of spending time with Roman Otley, and suddenly my idea of a perfect evening includes having him plastered to my side. Kissing his pouty lips, touching his smooth skin, breathing in his cinnamon scent.
I pull my beanie further down over my ears and increase my speed down the treelined path into the village of Christmas Falls.
I take in the surrounding woodland, a smile plastered on my face when I picture the flush on Roman’s cheeks and the bright sparkle in his eyes when he agreed to acting out my fantasy.
Fuck, he is beyond perfect.
My first stop when I reach the high street is to dip my head into the bakery, where I order a hot cup of coffee and a selection of freshly baked pastries.
“That all for you, love?” the lady behind the counter asks, whilst placing my order of two caramel yum yums, shortbread mince pies and cinnamon buns in a box.
“Yes, thank you.” She rings up my order, and I tap my card against the card reader.
“Actually, do you know how I can organise a cab back to my cottage? I don’t have my phone on me.
” I had considered bringing it, but the temptation to check on my life back in London and to get a glimpse of what the world is saying about my new house mate would have been too strong for me to resist.
And I’m not ready to pop our little bubble. Time will do that for us.
She hums under her breath before saying, “Charles, our local cabbie left about ten minutes ago for an airport run, so he’ll be gone a few hours. His son usually covers for him when he’s busy. I’ll give him a bell. Are you ready to go back now?”
I shake my head. “I need to collect a few groceries, and –” I look around the festively decorated room. “Is there somewhere I can buy decorations?”
The lady smiles, leaning forward with her elbows resting on the counter between us.
“There’s a Christmas shop a few doors down. This close to Christmas, it may be slim pickings, but you should be able to find a few bits and pieces. Finding a tree? Now that could be tricky.”
A tree. Fuck. When it had only been me staying in the cottage, when it had been my plan to drink wine and read all of Christmas day, a tree hadn’t mattered. Who would I have been decorating the place for?
Now it’s not only me and I want to make the twenty-fifth of December a day Roman will never forget. Something to remember me every year once we’ve gone our separate ways. Because we will when the real world catches up to us.
So that’s my plan. I’ll go all out. Decorate the entire place until it borders on tacky. Fill the lounge with the scent of real pine. Cook a feast enough for five.
“Thank you. I’ll pop there before I go buy groceries. Can you arrange for the cab to meet me at the store in an hour?”
She nods. “Sure thing.”
Cold air bites into my cheeks when I step out of the warm bakery and I sip on my coffee, grimacing when the scorching liquid burns my lip.
The store, aptly named Everything Christmas, cannot be missed.
A four foot Santa statue stands outside holding a tray of foil wrapped chocolates.
A small child, walking hand in hand with her mother, stops to take a handful, beaming at the treat.
A snow machine blasts foamy bubbles onto the sidewalk, and the window display is so intricately designed it could rival some of the biggest department stores in London.
A bell jingles when I walk inside and I’m greeted with the scent of pine, cinnamon and nutmeg. I make a note to hunt down a candle with that very scent.
A young guy dressed as an elf hands me a shopping basket and I swivel in place, taking in the magnitude of decorations. If this is ‘slim pickings’, I would love to see a fully stocked store. I don’t know that they could fit much more in here.
My basket full, I head to the counter to pay. The same guy rings up all my items, placing them in huge, festive tote bags.
“Is there somewhere I can get a real tree?” I ask.
His smile is soft and apologetic as he shakes his head.
“‘Fraid we’re all out. Those get ordered mid November and are sold out by the second week in December.” He points to the back of the store. “We have a few artificial trees left.”
Pursing my lips, I consider the trees. Back when I was still welcome in my parents’ home, we always had an artificial tree. I want this year to be different.
“Is there somewhere else I could look?”
He takes out his phone, biting his bottom lip as his fingers slide over his screen. He holds it out to me.
“There’s a Christmas tree farm twenty miles south. Says on their website they are open until the twenty fourth.”
I pay for my shopping and thank him for his help, then make my way to the only grocery store in the small village.
By the time I’ve bought everything for Christmas lunch, as well as milk, tea, biscuits and a few other necessities, my hands are laden with bags.
I stand outside the store, waiting for my cab to arrive.
My eyes flit to the sky, taking in the grey clouds moving in and promising either more rain or possibly snow.
Wouldn’t a white Christmas be amazing?
The lyrics of Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree being sung off-key greet me when I walk into the cottage.
It’s still light out, but won’t be for much longer – the winter days cold and short – and I find that Roman’s draped twinkling fairy lights around the coat hooks and over the lampshades in the entrance hall.
Shutting out the flurry of snow that started falling as the cab pulled up outside, I drop the shopping near the door and follow Roman’s voice to the lounge.
He has the CD player set to full volume, the tinny speakers crackling as he dances around the small space, dressed in nothing but his long hoodie.
From my position leaning against the doorframe, I can’t tell if he has anything on underneath.
His bare legs are fair and hairless, a swirling tattoo running from the back of his knee down to his ankle, covering most of his left calf.
A string of gold tinsel glistens from where it’s hanging from one side of the window, stretching along the top to the other. Roman spins around, another piece of the glittering garland floating in his hand like a ribbon.
When he sees me, his face lights up and he shoots across the space, the ribbon of tinsel floating to the ground. I have a few moments to brace for impact before his smaller body leaps at me. I catch him, my arms circling his waist at the same time his legs wrap around my hips.
“Gare Bear,” he sighs. “You’re back!”
He nuzzles his head under my chin, his unruly blue hair smelling like apples and cinnamon.
“Told you I wouldn’t be long. What have you been doing since I left?”
Roman turns his head to face the lounge and I follow his gaze to the coffee table in front of the sofa. There’s a pack of cards, two of his books, a plate covered in crumbs, a mug of what I guess is tea, and his phone.
Whirling back to me he says, “I realised something when you left.”
“Yeah? What was it?”
“That I hadn’t given much thought to the outside world since I met you.
I’ve not had a moment to miss my phone or the outpouring of fan comments.
But then when I was alone, my mind drifted back to the ‘incident’.
” He unhooks his arms from around my neck and air quotes the word.
“And I had this burning desire to see what people were saying. To see if I’ve been forgiven or forgotten. ”
He shrugs, rubbing his free hand over the back of his neck. “But...no internet.”
“Good,” I say, planting my lips against his, stealing a quick kiss.
“Who cares what people are saying about you? Who cares what’s happening outside the walls of this cottage?
” My lips ghost over his and down his neck, causing a shiver to ripple through him.
“All that matters is right here, right now. How about we keep forgetting about everything else?”
My hands slide under his hoodie, smoothing up his back and then down to his ass, which I discover is covered in satiny boxers.
“You’re very wise, Mr…” His words trail off and he scrunches his nose.
“Reed,” I answer.
“You’re very wise, Mr Reed. Now, make me forget.”
My nostrils flare, my pulse skyrocketing at his demand. Roman’s hands splay across my back and up into my hair and he tugs, pulling my face closer, brushing his nose against mine.
Spinning around, I crash my lips into his, then haphazardly fumble us down the hallway and into the bedroom.
I drop Roman on the bed, his hoodie rising to give me a pleasing view of his satin shorts and the smooth skin above them.
His cock is hard, pressing against the fabric, a wet spot forming where he’s already leaking.
“I could stand here and look at you for hours,” I admit, fiddling with my belt buckle. My heart thuds harder than a stampede of horses across solid ground as Roman lies there, arms and legs spread, bottom lip tucked between his teeth, his cheeks flushed a healthy rosy pink.
“Hmmm, that’s a thought. But I think it would lose its appeal pretty fast. There are far better things to do with our time.”
“Oh, yeah?” I stalk closer to the bed, the mattress dipping under my weight as I sink down and crawl over him. I don’t touch him. I just continue to look. To commit every line of his face, every twitch of his nose and speckle of gold in his eyes, to memory.
“Yeah.” Roman’s chest rises and falls, his breath speeding up, a vein ticking in the side of his neck. Dipping my head down, I hover my lips over his, then place one hand on his hip – warm palm to naked flesh – and squeeze.
“I’m listening,” I say.
Roman’s head lifts off the pillow, his lips chasing mine, but I pull away before he can kiss me. He groans, flopping his head back and levelling me with an exaggerated pout. “You’re mean,” he complains.
“Tell me how to make you forget, Roman.” There’s an edge to my words that has his pupils dilating, the brown of his irises fading into a thin ring.
He swallows thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the action.
“Hold me down and fuck me hard.”