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My father dimmed the lights and then flipped the switch, and the tree blazed in all its Christmas glory. We clapped and cheered our hard work as my mother called us for supper. Sitting around the table eating soup and fresh, homemade bread my mother had made as we talked about the past year and planned the one to come, I felt more at home than I had in a long time. I loved the fact that my parents were so active, but I missed them when they were gone.
“So, what do you say, Blake?” my father asked.
“Huh?” I replied.
“Dad! You’re not listening!” Nina scolded. “You always tell me I need to pay attention, but you’re not!”
“I was just thinking about something,” I said, trying to cover for myself.
“I said, are you and Nina coming to Christmas Eve dinner?” my father repeated.
“I can’t,” I said. “I’m working. But if Remy okays it, we’ll be here Christmas Day.”
“Mom’s going to go to Nana and Papa’s,” Nina said. “She asked if I want to go, but I told her I wanted to stay here, so she’ll be fine with it.”
“Are you sure about that, Punkin?” I asked warily. Nina had a bad habit of saying what she wanted when it wasn’t quite true.
“Check with her when you drop me off,” she shrugged.
“Well, good!” my mother declared. “I’m happy that I’ll have my whole family here at the same time!”
After supper, my mother packed up bags of cookies and food for Nina and I before we headed home. Brian carried the bags out to my truck before I could protest that there was more food than we could eat in a month, let alone the week between now and Christmas. I watched Nina hug my parents tightly before we headed out to the truck.
“See you next week!” Nina shouted through her open window as I backed out of the driveway. She rolled up the window and cranked the radio up saying, “Now, don’t screw up the lyrics this time, Dad!”
“I’ll try not to,” I promised, as I smiled and pointed the truck towards home.
Chapter Ten
Emily
Saturday morning, I woke up entirely too early, so I laid in bed enjoying Howard’s soft, fuzzy warmth under the flannel sheets and letting my thoughts wander back to Blake Gaston. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since he’d left my classroom, and the thoughts grew progressively racier this morning. As I let them flow, I felt the warmth spreading as I slowly caressed my body with one hand. I closed my eyes and imagined Blake’s face above mine as I slid my hand between my legs and softly stroked my already-damp panties.
Just as I was about to move my hand lower, I felt a furry paw batting my eyes and ears.
“Knock it off, Howard,” I growled, as I tried to shift my focus back to Blake. The paw tapped my lips as Howard mewed loudly. I opened one eye and said, “I’m not kidding, buddy. Knock it off!”
Howard turned in a circle and then leaned his considerably large backside up against the side of my head as he began to methodically clean himself. I reached over and
shoved him off my head, but he dug in and resisted, leaving me no choice but to sit up and pick him up. By the time I’d relocated him to the other side of the bed, I’d lost the train of thought that I’d been working on.
“You are a royal pain in the ass, mister,” I muttered, as I pulled a robe on over my pajamas and slid my feet into a battered pair of slippers. Howard lay on the bed looking up at me, blinking as if I’d disturbed his sleep. I waved a hand as I muttered a few choice curse words at him and walked to the kitchen.
The house was freezing cold, but while I hated waking up in a frigid house, I also knew better than to leave the space heaters running while I was asleep. I flipped the switch on the heater in the kitchen and then went and flipped the one in the living room on, too. I started the coffee and then turned my attention to breakfast.
Once the house had begun to warm up a bit, Howard strolled into the kitchen and hopped up on his stool.
“Nice of you to join me, Mr. Lazy Pants,” I said, as I grabbed his bowl off the floor and filled it with his breakfast. I set the bowl down on the floor and watched as he eyed it and then shot me an irritated look before finally hopping down and walking over to it. I reminded him, “Beggars really can’t be choosers, you know.”
As the coffee brewed, I set about making a full Saturday morning breakfast while I listened to the news. The Boston Celtics were playing a game tonight, and I was looking forward to kicking back on my couch and watching them increase their winning streak by one more game. Despite the fact that I always had work to do to prep or grade, I allowed myself complete freedom from work on Saturdays, and today was no exception.
I’d just flipped the last of the pancakes and pulled the crisp pan of bacon out of the broiler when Kendra knocked on the back door. I opened it and was surprised to find her standing on the back porch holding a bag full of groceries.
“What are you doing here so early?” I asked, taking the bag from her and peeking inside. It was full of fruit, vegetables, a carton of milk, and a variety of pastries. “What’s this for?”
“I’m working all weekend and then leave on Monday morning bright and early,” she said. “Thought you might be able to do something with these.”
“Indeed I can!” I said, as she walked over and poured herself a cup of coffee then rooted around in the bag and pulled out the milk. “Good thing you brought that; I used the last of mine on the pancakes. Want some breakfast?”
