Chapter 3 #3
I’d admit I felt funny discovering this, kinda disheartened— we’d been having fun— I missed fun— felt like I rarely had any fun anymore— but it was good he’d left. If he’d stuck around he’d be trapped here with me for a bit.
Making myself a cup of tea and a loaded potato a la microwave that crap ‘cause I’m too lazy to actually cook right now, I trudged my way over to the sofa.
As always, my gaze slid back to Elm’s box.
The envelope sat on the coffee table, propped up by one of Mom’s vase decoration things, part candle with a glass lid, part surrounded by pinecones, I dunno, it was her kind of deal not mine, but it was pretty.
My gaze slipped from Cy’s envelope to Elm’s box, ping-ponging back and forth as I quickly ate.
Scarfing down my food, I stood to walk my bowl to the sink when I took a good look around and realized I’d neglected to pick up on one very important thing— I was soggy clean through from the bottom of my slippered feet and moist up to my knees.
Some parts of me, namely the thick, insulating bottoms of my slippers, were leaking freaking everywhere.
Crap.
Rushing my owlbears and jeans to the laundry room, I ran back out sans pants and rushed to clean up the mess I’d made.
By the time I was done my legs were chilly, feet screaming for socks, the idea of warming up in the shower was rather tempting.
A knock at the back door made me jump. Running the towels I’d used to the laundry room, I threw on the first pair of pants my fingers touched in the hamper full to overflowing with clothes I had yet to sort, fold, and put away— and probably never would at this rate— and rushed to the back door.
Peering out, I spied nothing but white stuff.
Already knowing this trick, I checked the lock and then ran over to the front door.
Not this time, Cy!
Again, nothing and no one but the frosty cold stuff as I looked through the peep hole. Huh.
Okay… maybe I was just imagining things. Maybe I’d just wanted him to be there and it was, I dunno, something being blown around out there, a rock or acorn or something.
Thinking about that shower, I trudged into my bedroom.
With my clothes now all laid out, I just needed towels.
Stepping out into the hall, I turned to head for the laundry room just past Dad’s office but stopped dead in my tracks at a quick glance over to Elm’s box by the door, which was clearly visible from my vantage point.
It wasn’t there.
Rushing over, I was so distracted I ran right past the oaf propped up on my couch.
“Look for some thing?” Cy asked, his voice as sugary sweet as my condescending tone had been earlier.
“How the hell did you get in here?!” I snapped.
Cy held up a spare key, the one Dad kept under his damn fake rock in the yard.
I would have snatched it up from him, my fingers closing around it, but he yanked it back at the last minute.
My fingers had just closed around it, so the action sent me tumbling over the couch, awkwardly landing next to him.
Cy caught my flailing legs with ease, settling them in his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Grabbing Cy by the front of his flannel, I snarled directly in his face. “Where the hell is my box?!”
Cy smiled, like I wasn’t about to brain him, like he thought my fit of pique was amusing and not she might murder you territory.
“What box?” That Cheshire Cat look was back, his lips twitching like he was trying not to laugh, but I found nothing funny about this.
Kicking my feet out of his hold, I rushed up on him. Throwing my leg over his, effectively straddling him, I got right up in his face. “Cypress Tree if you don’t give me my box back I’m going to- I’ll-”
“You what?” he rumbled out quietly. His hands fell to my hips, holding me in place, as I ranted and raved at him. He was making sure I didn’t fall while I chewed him out? “What my Pru do?” he purred.
My face flamed at his words. “I’m not your Pru,” I gurgled out.
My eyes bugged as I stared down at him. My heart felt funny, like it was racing and struggling to keep up with the gallop.
I fidgeted in his lap but made no move to lift myself off of him.
His scent was strong this close. It gave me that lightheaded dizzy feeling as my bugged out hazel eyes met those deep blue eyes staring at me so intently.
Cy snorted. “You mine.”
I snorted right back but glanced away. “You’re delusional, that’s for sure.”
One of his hands lifted up and he boldly slid his fingers beneath my beanie.
Cupping the back of my head as I growled and prepared to tear him a new one, he yanked me towards him, so our mouths were only a hair’s breadth away.
My hands grabbed for his shoulders, latching on to dig in as he bussed our noses, his chest began rumbling loudly, and he growled something in that weird way that he does that sounded almost, I don’t know… sweet, loving.
I didn’t make the first move, leaving us in this strange limbo. We remained as we were, him growling at me in a way that made me all hot and bothered, holding me to him, while I sat there like an idiot, frozen, stuck, held in his gaze.
A startled yip left me as his other hand left my hip to boldly slip underneath my hoodie and then my shirt, and smooth up my back.
The noise Cy let out had me shivering from head to toe.
I was contemplating giving in and mashing my mouth to his when he stopped, removed his hands completely from my person to settle them at his sides, and the teasing dick smiled at me, the biggest, baddest gotcha smile this side of the snowy mountains surrounding us.
“Who mine now?” he taunted.
Pulling back, I stared at him. It was impossible to hide my reaction, quick as I tried to hide it after the fact.
Hopping off of him like he’d burned me, I nabbed up his stupid letter, rushed to the back door, unlocked the damn latch, threw the door open, and chucked his letter out.
“Here ya go, Bessie! Best get your heiferin’ heinie out there before it gets soggy! ”
Cy snarled and rushed after his precious note as fast as that tent in the front of his pants would allow him. I slammed the door on him on his way out and locked it.
Walking over to the kitchen table, I grabbed a chair and propped it up under the handle, then did the same for the front door.
Growling under my breath as I went, I headed for my bathroom.
By the time I’d finished my shower, dried off, dressed, lotioned every damn inch of my body, I felt a bit more human and less bite your head off. I didn’t bother with anything on my head, no hat, no wig, no wig beanie. I got hot for a bit after a shower. It felt nice.
Stepping out into the hall, I wanted to steal a pair of Dad’s thick winter socks to wear on particularly chilly nights. I’ve done so since I was a kid. Then I figured I’d better throw another log in the stove for the night.
“We start again.”
A scream left me. Falling back into the wall, I grabbed at my chest. “Are you insane? What are you doing, practicing cat burgling in your free time, you lunatic? You nearly gave me a heart attack!” Scrubbing my hands down my face, I growled out through gritted teeth, “Cy, I’m going to murder you!
” You wouldn’t think I’d threatened the floppy mopped fool standing across from me like he’d been waiting for me this entire time, a pair of Dad’s thick socks in his hands, ready to go, the way he was watching me.
Motioning with the socks, he pointed in the direction of the front door. The chair was gone, Elm’s box with his letter on top neatly in place. “We go again,” he rumbled out under his breath.
“You go to hell,” I bit out.
“We go again,” he repeated, like I wasn’t spitting fire glaring at him. He looked so damn serious, like he’d said it, he meant, so it shall be.
“Fine! What the hell, why not, let’s go again! What’s another crack at me, huh?” Throwing my hands up, I motioned for him to hand the socks over.
Instead, he knelt and tapped his thigh, meaning he meant for me to place it there for him.
Glaring down at him, I hesitated. He started to spout off his spiel but I muttered, “Yeah, yeah, we go again,” and dangled my foot over where he’d indicated. I should kick him in the face and drag his unconscious body from the house. He deserved it.
“You are so weird, did you know that?” I started to say.
Glancing up, the look he gave me said he was trying to be serious here and he’d like my cooperation.
“Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs,” I grumbled under my breath.
Crossing my arms over my chest, staring at the wall mutinously, I grunted but didn’t move when he tapped my leg, indicating he wanted my other foot.
He did it again, looking ready to spout his spiel, so I grumbled something unkind under my breath about pushy ass hats but dropped the first one to the floor to lift the next one like he’d wanted.
Once that was finished, he looked so pleased with himself I had to wonder if he’d hit his head rolling around out back earlier.
“Seriously, are you okay?”
My question was met with a short nod.
“We go again,” he rumbled out softly.
Scrubbing at my face, wondering what I’d done to deserve this— I mean, had I not been bemoaning the loss of these nutjobs?
— I sighed heavily and dropped my hand. “We go again. What next? You wanna play hide the box? Should I close my eyes while you look for another hiding place?” Thinking about that time Birch hid so well none of us could find him and we gave up, for him to come stomping up to us hours later pissed off we’d stopped looking, my lips twitched at the silly memory.
A happy, rumbling noise left Cy. He had a look on his face that made me think he was thinking about that time as well. “Did you ever find out where he was hiding?” I asked.
Cy shook his head. His smile slipped free then.
“We go again,” he murmured, his voice low, sure.