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Everett nods, and then turns to the fireplace, throws a few logs onto the fire to stoke it. “It died down before I left to get the tree,” he explains. “It will get cold in here if we don’t warm this place up. And it’s only going to get worse tonight. This storm blew in out of nowhere.”
“So, I guess I’ll be here for a while?”
He nods tightly and I can’t tell if me being here is totally annoying him or not.
“What are your plans for that tree, anyway?” I look around the cabin, not seeing a single sign of holiday spirit.
“I thought I’d prop it up in the corner. You know, for some Christmas cheer?” I see a hint of a smile in his eyes, but his mouth doesn’t budge.
“Are you at least going to decorate it?”
I admit, my craft-inclined fingers are already itching to spruce it up.
He shrugs. “I don’t know, I don’t exactly have lots of Christmas decorations.”
“Christmas lights didn’t make the cut for your one hundred things?” I tease.
“Exactly.”
I look out the window, the snow is falling so hard now that I wonder if I’ll be here longer than a day. Oddly, though, I don’t mind the prospect in the least.
“Lucky for you I wrote a blog post last week called the Frugal Woman’s Guide to Trimming Her Tree.”
At this, Everett laughs without hesitation. “Is trimming her tree a euphemism?”
My face gets red and I stand up from the rocking chair to slug him in the shoulder playfully. “Not a euphemism.” I put my hands on my hips, looking around the room. “I need you to get me some scissors and paper. The newspaper will even do. And bring in the tree. If I’m stuck here all night I’m gonna make this place look like Christmas.”
“Anything else, Ms. Demanding?” Everett smirks, taking stock of me.
“Yes,” I tell him, grinning. “You promised me some whiskey.”Chapter FourDamn, this woman has my cock hard and my blood pumping. I get her paper and scissors, and a shot of Fireball for both of us, then hightail it out of the cabin, to shake off the snow from the branches before dragging the tree inside.
There is something else I need to shake off too. I adjust my cock, and this gust of cold air is helping things.
The cabin was getting hot, a fucking inferno. Kneeling before that woman, her tits all up in my face in her tight little sweater, her jeans hugging her hips perfectly. And damn, I’m not a guy with some weird fetish, but pulling those boots off and holding her feet in my hands, I wanted to pull off those wool socks and kiss her fucking toes.
What the hell is wrong with me? It’s been way too long since I’ve had a woman.
I think it’s about to change, though. Not that I’m exactly the kind of guy I’m guessing Evie usually dates. Sleeps with. Fucks. I’m guessing with those hot pink gloves and her bright blonde hair she prefers guys with a bit more style. I’m not saying she dates douchebag city-slickers, I just, I know I’m not her type.
Women like her go for party guys who can keep up. Guys who speak in hashtags and carry selfie sticks unironically.
She talks a mile a minute and doesn’t seem scared in the slightest. That means she’s used to getting what she wants.
But damn, I want to get what I want tonight. The way she looked at my cabin, memorizing every detail, and setting to work with just scissors and a smile, that is something special. Not bitching or complaining about being here with me, about being stuck away from home at Christmas time.
It makes me think my mother would love this girl. Would love the way she doesn’t seem scared to be alone with a stranger, the way she just accepted this for what it was. Fate.
Shaking off the tree, I reckon we found a pretty good one. I carry it into the house and see Evie with the newspaper I found her. Snip. Snip. Snip. She’s got a thousand little clippings on the floor already.
Johnny Walker is eating this up. He sits at her feet, wagging his tongue, he’s smart as fuck. He knows this woman is the type of woman that you worship.
“I’m making snowflakes,” she explains, even though I didn’t ask. I lean the tree against the door and take off my boots.
“Snowflakes?”
She holds up a folded piece of paper and with thumbs on either end, she pulls open an intricately cut snowflake.
“Cute, right?”
“I don’t usually think of snowflakes as cute, but sure. That’s cute.”
“Thanks,” she says setting down the scissors, not reading into my words. “I tried to call my sister, because, well, not that anyone is necessarily going to worry about me, but since my car is abandoned, I don’t want anyone to think something bad happened to me. So, do you have a phone I can use?”
