Chapter 17
Chapter seventeen
Roman
“You’re going to need to wear something warmer than that,” Garrett says, pointing to the thin long sleeved t-shirt I threw on after my shower.
“And pop a hat over your wet hair.” It’s just past lunch time, we spent the morning in the lounge – Garrett writing, while I read and then coaxed him into the hot tub.
Now we’re getting ready for this big surprise he has for me.
“Why Gare Bear, are you worried about me?” I place a hand over my heart and flash him my biggest grin.
“Don’t be a brat. I don’t want you getting sick again. Tomorrow is Christmas. Do you really want to spend it in bed?”
He has a point. Although…
“Define what we would be doing in bed? Because if it involves naked bodies and lube, you can count me in.”
Garrett manhandles a green beanie over my hair and then kisses my forehead.
“If you get sick again, it won’t be nearly as fun as you’re imagining.”
“Fair,” I mutter, tearing through the contents of my bag and finding a thick, patterned fleece which I pull over my t-shirt.
Garrett leaves me to get ready, and I stand in front of the mirror and line my eyes with black eyeliner before swiping a shade of pink gloss over my lips. My blue fringe peaks out from below the beanie and I adjust it so that it’s parted over my forehead.
I look cute in a cosy-sexy, let’s stay in and make love in front of the fire kind of way.
“You’re falling hard, Supernova,” I say to the mirror, my chest fluttering at the confession.
I purse my lips, resigned to keeping this little nugget of information to myself.
I can’t expect Garrett to want more than this.
I’m a lot to take on. I’m messy, not to mention exceptionally clingy, and I don’t know how to be a boyfriend.
We’d never work outside our little bubble.
Fuck, I can’t even be trusted to take a photo with a mall Santa without fucking it up.
What would a successful man like Garrett want with my chaotic life? With me?
I shake my head. “Keep those thoughts to yourself,” I say. “It’s just sex.” And maybe if that was the truth, maybe if sex was the only way we connected, it would be easy to picture walking away from him at the end of our time here.
Leaving the bedroom, my feelings neatly packed into a locked safe, I head into the kitchen where I find Garrett filling a thermos with boiling water, then screwing the lid on.
“I’ve made Red Bush tea,” he says, lifting the black flask and tucking it into a backpack. “I don’t know which tea is most appropriate for this surprise, and I’ve never tried it so…”
“It’s a good choice,” I reply. “Even though I have no idea what you have in store for us, I know it’s a good choice.”
His lips tip into a lopsided grin. “Great. Coat on. Let’s do this,” Garrett says, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me in for a kiss.
A kiss far too heated for two people who are meant to be leaving the house.
His body is warm and welcoming, the sweet scent of his cologne invading my senses.
My cock thickens, pressing against the satin of my underwear.
“Garrett,” I whine, pushing against his chest. “Not cool.” I shake my head, loving the way he chuckles, his eyes shining with an intoxicating mix of amusement and arousal. “Not cool at all.”
He shrugs, gliding out of the kitchen and to the front door, where he puts on his coat and brown hiking boots.
“You tempted me with that gloss. I had to know how you tasted.”
Garrett opens the door and steps outside. Pulling on my coat and boots, I follow him out.
“And?” I ask, locking the front door behind us.
Outside, there’s a thin blanket of snow covering the cobbled path, as well as clumps of it settled on the thicker branches of the trees surrounding the cottage.
It’s breathtakingly beautiful. I spin around and steal a glance at our temporary home. With its tiled roof dotted with snowflakes and its stone chimney, surrounded by a wintery woodland, it looks like a scene from a Christmas card.
Garrett’s breath is hot on my cheek when he steps up behind me.
“Fucking delicious,” he whispers, answering my earlier question. “You, my Supernova, are fucking delicious.”
My Supernova. My brain snags on that one tiny word.
My.
His.
Spinning around, intending to slam our lips together, I halt at the sight of a car pulling up in front of us.
An older man climbs out, and I step aside, sliding my hand down Garrett’s arm and linking our fingers together.
“Charles?”
The cab driver who dropped me at the cottage days ago, smiles and steps towards me.
“Nice to see you again, son.” He looks at Garrett, giving him a once over, before pivoting back to me. “Glad to see you’re not out here alone, after all. Though I didn’t know you were expecting company.”
I scoff. “Neither did I.”
Garrett squeezes my hand as I give Charles the short version of our unexpected meeting. The older man’s face twisting into a bright smile.
“Might I say that this is the magic of the season, hard at work?” He swings a finger between the two of us, then nods to himself. “My Mrs always says it’s the most romantic time of year.”
I sense Garrett’s eyes on my face and I look at him side on, matching his grin with one of my own. Maybe our meeting was Christmas magic. Or fate. Or destiny. Or maybe it really was just a computer glitch. Either way, I’m grateful for it.
Charles claps his gloved hands together. “Right, you ready?”
“For what?” I ask.
Garrett speaks up, nudging my shoulder as he says. “Never you mind. Get in the car, trouble.”
I slide into the backseat and Garrett follows me before Charles climbs into his seat and starts the engine. The book he was reading the last time I saw him is sitting on the front seat.
“How's your book going?” I ask, leaning between the seats to pick it up. I flip it over to scan the blurb.
DI Jack Sniper is in over his head.
Can he save the day before the clock runs out?
“Great!” he remarks. “It’s my favourite series.”
I lean my head back against the seat. “Garrett’s an author.” My eyes meet Charles’s in the rearview mirror.
“Is he now?”
It occurs to me then that I could detail every freckle or mole on this man’s body, but I don’t know much about his books or his author persona.
“What is your pen name?” I ask.
The skin above Garrett’s beard flushes and his eyes dart from the book in my hand to the scenery passing us by as Charles steers us down the narrow road.
“Umm…”
“Not a trick question, Gare Bear.”
I eye the book in my hand. My eyes snagging on the author’s name.
Rhett Kingsley.
Rhett.
Gar-rett.
“Holy shit!” I exclaim, holding the book up. “This is you, isn’t it?”
His flush deepens, and he clears his throat, his head nodding.
“Well, ain’t I lucky?” Charles says from the front of the car. “Two celebrities in my cab today.”
I turn the book to the front and point to a line along the bottom, in black font.
“You’re way more famous than you let on.”
Garrett makes a sound in the back of his throat. “No. I’m really not.”
Tapping my finger over the font I say, “This literally says, ‘London Herald Best-Selling Author’. That’s a big fucking deal.”
He bumps his shoulder into mine. “You and your ‘literally’.”
“Alright, Mr Best-seller.” His cheeks flush again and I want to lick them. “I’ll have you know. I use that word in the correct way. Every damn time.”
“Christmas magic,” Charles beams from the front seat. “What a treasure.”
Mountain Pine Farm, a large sign reads as we pull into an open field cordoned off with wooden fencing on three sides.
There’re dozens of cars parked in rows and people in high-vis jackets directing others into open spots.
Charles follows the directions of one such person, pulls the car into a space and kills the engine.
“You two have fun,” he says, leaning back in his seat and picking up his book. “Mr Best-seller here has booked me for the whole afternoon, so take your time.” He pats the paperback in his hand. “I have a long way to go. Don’t hurry back.”
I smile, following Garrett out of the car.
“What is this place?” I ask, my eyes darting towards where a crowd of people are filing in through an arched wooden walkway.
It’s a mix of couples and families – toddlers dashing around their parents’ feet and teens posing for selfies with the giant reindeer statue at the entrance.
A few well-behaved dogs stick close to their owners’ sides and there’s the distinct scent of roasted chestnuts in the air.
“It’s a Christmas farm and lights trail,” Garrett says, one hand pointing to the giant lit up tree to our right. Behind it is a lush forest, and a tractor parked next to a small wooden hut. The sign above it reads “Find your perfect tree here.”
“This is amazing!” I declare, spinning to face my new favourite person, my hands landing on his hips. “I’ve never been to anything like this.”
“In that case,” Garrett pulls me closer. “I’m glad I brought you. Shall we pick our tree before we head down the light trail?” He leans closer, his beard brushing my cheek. “I hear it’s very romantic.”
Fuck, how is this my life now? More importantly, how do I keep this life and this man? Is that even an option? I don’t know when last I went on an actual date. Is that what this is? Is Garrett taking me on a date? I shake my head, acknowledging I’m getting carried away.
Garrett’s hands fall from their spot on my lower back, one moving to tangle with mine. Hand in hand, we head toward the pick-a-tree part of the farm. It’s late afternoon, the sun low in the sky as it tries to peek out from behind the grey snow heavy clouds.