And just like that, she’s falling apart in my lap. She lets out one more whimper, then takes my finger into her mouth, sucking, teeth applying just the right pressure. Oh gods. I don’t praise her because my mouth is full of her tit.
Holly stills in my lap, rests her head on my shoulder. I stroke up and down her back, savoring the feel of her soft skin. The fire needs another log, but it can wait a few more minutes. The cabin is still silent; the boys didn’t wake. My girl did a fine job staying quiet.
Eventually, she clears her throat, sits up, and pulls away from me. I’m sad to feel the cool air against my skin. “Um, thank you,” she says, almost a question in her voice. “I—oh—did I do that?” She looks at the dark spot on the front of my sweatpants. I suppose I should feel something like shame for coming in my pants. But I don’t. I can’t, because this woman makes me feel alive in a way I haven’t in a very long time.
“Yes, darling. You are that sexy, and you have that effect on me.” I kiss her forehead. “I’m going to put another log on the fire, then get cleaned up.”
As I walk to the bathroom, she’s curled up on the sofa with her book on her lap. Staring at the fire, I see the curl of a smile on her face. Satisfied. Content. My chest puffs with pride at that.
Cleaning up with no power proves to be a creative endeavor. I silently tiptoe up the stairs to the loft, skipping the squeaky step. Fresh clothes in hand, I pause to look at the boys, both snuggled in and sound asleep.
The washing machine is in the bathroom; convenient. Of course, I can’t just throw my clothes into the washer. I put them in the mop bucket with some water and set that in the shower for now. I don’t want to use too much water until we run the generator; otherwise, our well bladder will empty.
When I come back to Dr. Holly—for a brief moment, I let myself drop the honorific, but now my brain has reinserted it—she’s asleep. Sighing, acknowledging my disappointment, Istoke the fire one more time, cover her with a quilt, and head back to my bunk.
A quick peek out the window makes my heart drop. The snow is back again, fiercer than ever. I can barely make out the outline of the truck. I know what this means—no power beyond the generator. And no getting these boys home for Christmas. The conflict within me rages. I get more time with Dr. Holly, but I still have to honor my Christmas promise to my sons.
Chapter 10
Holly
The chaos of the morning has me spiraling faster than a tornado. The three boys bound downstairs, their thumps echoing through the small cabin. Though I’m nice and warm under the heavy paisley quilt, when I sit up, I realize I have an awful crick in my neck. Ow.
“You’re up early!” Cliff hops onto the back of the sofa, his belly the pivot point, so his legs kick off the back, but his face is in my space.
“So are you,” I say, smiling, then wincing at the pain that shoots up my neck to my head.
“We’re going to build a snowman and make pancakes. Ready?”
“Am I ready? Um, sure. Give me ten minutes.”
And that is how I find myself wrapped up like a burrito in my snow gear, outside in a winter wonderland, building a snowman. Now, all of that sounds magical, except my head pounds, I need coffee, and the amount of snow around us closes in on me mentally. I never thought I was claustrophobic, but here I am, mentally freaking out by the huge drifts of snow. Thankfully, theporch protected the cabin, so the door still opens. But what if it keeps snowing? I don’t think there’s enough food here for the four of us if we’re stuck for more than another day or two.
Todd comes flying out of the house and flops into the snow, sinking down enough that I can’t see him. The boys’ laughter breaks me out of my spiral just enough to breathe. Cliff and Todd direct me in snowman base making. Literally, all I can think about is the Meghan Trainor song, “All About that Bass,” as I roll the snow to make an extra large, extra round bottom of a snowman.
Their antics make me laugh, and I feel a bit lighter.
Relief floods me when the door opens and the scent of hot black coffee flutters around my nose. There on the porch is the perfect man, hugged in those damned Wrangler jeans, holding the gift of the gods—coffee.
It takes too long for me to trip my way through the snow to get back to the porch and receive my mug. “Thank you,” I say softly to him, not quite meeting his eyes, as the boys holler for me to come back and finish my job. Turning to them, I hold up the mug and yell, “Work break!”
Jack hollers beside me, “Hot cocoa inside! It’s in a thermos; take your time!” They whoop in celebration and redouble their efforts to build the snowman without me. The mug of coffee warms my hands through my mittens. I keep my eyes focused on the building, not on the man I dry-humped last night. He stands still beside me, sipping his own mug.
Eventually, the quiet thread between us becomes too much. “Um, about last night,” I start, but he holds up a hand to stop me.
“Good morning, Holly,” he says. “Last night was the most fun I’ve had in years. But—” A snowball hits Jack square in the face.The kids howl with laughter as his coffee splashes all over him and the snow. He growls—and no, there is no quiver in my low belly at that—then sets his mug on the porch rail and roars a battle cry as he runs as best he can through the snow to tackle the kids.
Snowballs fly as I continue to down the elixir that I hope will jumpstart my brain to override all these feelings swirling around in me. The ‘but’ echoes in my mind. But what? But in the light of day, it’s a bad idea to do anything more? But I’m seeing someone? But my kids? Argh!
Cliff locks eyes on me, and his yell startles me. “I need your help!” which gets garbled as he face plants in the snow. I’m not part of this family, but we’re stuck together for now, and this is just the distraction I need. Set my mug next to Jack’s, ignoring the image that they create of “his and hers,” I waddle my way back out, making snowballs and flinging them as I go.
Soon, I can’t breathe; I’m laughing so hard. Cliff and I work our best against Todd and Jack. Snow flies all around us—all from us. The snowman sits, watching silently, or would if he had eyes. Todd tackles Cliff. And then, oomph, I’m knocked onto my back, sinking into the fluffy snow.
Jack tackled me. His weight on me feels so good. I’m laughing. He’s laughing. The kids are a nonstop mix of laughs and hollers.
For a minute, everything stills. His gaze sharpens, deepening the creases in the corners of his eyes. Despite my assumptions about what was going to come after the ‘but,’ I try to send pleading ‘kiss me!’ vibes through my look.
Jack licks his lips. Gods, yes. He leans in close; I can smell peppermint and coffee and that sandalwood man scent that hehas. This moment steals my breath, and not for laughing. The sounds of the snowball fight fade away. The coldness of the snow melts away, leaving me feeling too hot in my many layers. Everything is slow and sparkly.
