Chapter 7
Jack
Standing up there, cricking my neck to stare at the sky with Dr. Holly and my boys, I had the impression that Becca was there with me, watching us.
That damned comet is her blessing; that it’s okay to open up and let love in, that she wants us to thrive and be happy.
And sure, I could say I already knew that.
But there was something magical, divine, that I felt in the bottom of my soul.
Dr. Holly Doughty talking about her telescope, about rocks and space debris, about stars and distant galaxies—things that I take for granted—is jaw-dropping sexy.
I know the brain is the largest erogenous zone, but I’ve never thought of the brain itself as sexy.
Or that being intelligent was sexy. Not that my Becca wasn’t intelligent; she was, but we were young; the things that mattered then seem to matter less now.
When Dr. Holly pressed her lips to mine earlier, there was a literal explosion in my body.
I knew I needed more. I wouldn’t be able to function, let alone breathe, without feeling her lips on mine again.
That poignant pause at the bottom of the porch, wanting to say thank you before the boys heard us on the wooden steps, felt like my moment, my one chance.
And I didn’t want to miss it.
Dr. Holly’s lips are so soft and plump, like rose petals, but with a hint of chocolate in them.
She opens her lips to mine and moans when I respond in kind.
The sound of her sighing into my mouth urges me forward, pulling her into me, finding purchase through my mittened hands to her juicy backside.
She’s science and magic all wrapped up together with a pretty Christmas bow.
All I want is to be lost in the moment forever, savor the heat of her body against mine, her breath against my cheek as I leave a trail of kisses along her jawline to her ear.
“You’re so perfect,” I whisper, barely recognizing my own voice.
Her breath hitches, sending a signal straight to my dick, which strains against my jeans.
A pained scream from inside the house crashes our intimate moment.
Dr. Holly leaps back as if I’ve burned her, falling into the snow in the process.
My heart tries to eject itself from my body—to run in search of my boy, who is clearly dying at this very moment.
I’m up the steps, pushing through the door, ready to tear apart whatever beast is threatening my children.
Only to find them collapsed in giggles on the floor beside the sofa. “What’s wrong?” I ask. I know it’s too gruff, too loud, but adrenaline and papa bear energy are running this rodeo.
Through fits of trying to catch their breath, I get, “Nothing. Game. Hilarious. Todd died!” And then more giggles.
Everything in my brain is blank. Short-circuited by my idiotic children playing their idiotic game.
Frozen on the spot, part of my brain tries to tell me Anna is going to know I let snow melt on the wooden floor.
Another part of my brain tells me to go get Dr. Holly.
Once my breathing has returned to normal, I turn around to get her off the porch.
But she isn’t there. The front door is shut.
Her boots and telescope are by the door; her coat and snow pants are hung up.
And she’s nowhere to be seen. Quickly, I kick off my boots and set them on the mud tray to catch the rest of the water.
I’ll need to towel up the floor, but first I need to find Dr. Holly.
I hear the door click shut as I make my way down the hallway.
Standing there way too long, knowing it’s awkward AF, I’m frozen once more, trying to decide what the best course of action is.
Of course, she’s here for work, and I should let that be.
She doesn’t even know who I am, that I own this cabin, the ranch, most of the god-damned mountain.
She’s flirting with a single-dad ranch hand. Not a single dad billionaire landowner.
And it’s better this way. We’ve got fire for the woodstove.
For now, electricity. And if the clouds stay clear, we’ll have excellent comet viewing tomorrow night.
But if the clouds stay clear, I might be able to get the boys and me out of here.
Back to our planned Christmas weekend together. Priorities, Jack.
As I walk away from her, back to the boys and the kitchen, I unzip my snow coat.
Then all the lights go out.