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“Right,” I tell him, but I feel like I’m missing something in this conversation. There’s like a strange undercurrent that I’m not grasping.
The waitress comes and takes our order and I try my best to shake it off. Today has been so great, I’m sure I’m just being silly.
“I hate that we didn’t find a tree, but your yard is going to look so pretty! Our street will definitely win the annual trophy!”
“Trophy?” Eb asks.
“The city of Juniper gives out a trophy every year to the street with the best decorations.”
“Who gets the trophy?”
“They have it on display at City Hall for everyone to see. Our street has a history of winning it,” I tell him proudly.
“There’s no money reward? You do it for a trophy?”
“Of course! It’s a pride kind of thing,” I tell him with a silly smile as the waitress serves our food.
“Is that why you offered to decorate my yard? To win the trophy, I mean,” Eb questions me.
I push my food around in the plate and then look over at him.
“Yeah. Honestly, if you don’t decorate we will never win and we always win…”
“I see. So it’s really important to you that my yard looks like Santa puked on it?”
I blink at his description.
“Santa puked? Eb you don’t really sound like you like Christmas at all. Why are you doing all this if you don’t?” I ask him earnestly, trying to understand what exactly is going on.
Chapter 8
Eb
I sit there for a moment and wonder exactly what will happen with Joy if I tell her the simple truth.
Dear, sweet Christmas Joy, I’m only doing this so I can get in your pants.
Somehow I don’t think her reaction would get me where I want—which is between her legs. I have two clear paths in front of me. One has a very good chance of getting me laid and the other will probably dash all hopes quicker than Santa’s sleigh in fresh snow.
There’s a moment in every man’s life when he comes to a crossroads. Now I could tell her the truth and if that kept me out from between Joy’s legs… so be it. I mean she’s hot and has this innocent vibe about her that I really like. She looks so innocent and pure that I can’t help but want to dirty her up.
Still, I’ve never had to chase pussy in my life and I’m a little too fucking old and jaded to start now. I mean giving a girl my name these days usually assures my cock is going to get sucked. And, as delectable and little Joy appears to be, in the end she’s still a warm, wet pussy to sink into. It’s not like this is love. I don’t believe in that shit anyhow.
I’ve almost decided to pull the plug on this little endeavor when Joy does something that changes the game. Something I didn’t really expect.
Joy reaches over and drags the pad of her finger across the indention on my chin. It’s a simple touch and there’s nothing sexual about it, but then she smiles at me. It’s a sweet smile, almost shy and it’s definitely tender. I grew up with my father, who was strictly military. My mother died when I was barely three. I don’t really remember her and I can never remember tenderness. Joy gave me tenderness just now and I find myself wanting that more—or almost more—than getting between her legs.
“You look like you’re making a life or death decision, Eb,” she says softly and it must be said that I like the way she says my name. I want her to say it more… a lot more.
“Sometimes when you smile, I look at you and lose track of what I’m doing,” I tell her and for once, I’m not feeding a girl a line. I’m being completely upfront with her.
Shock moves over her face and I can literally see it. Her eyes go round in surprise and she blushes.
“I was telling you that it feels like you don’t really like Christmas and I can’t understand why you asked me to help you, if you don’t.”
“I love Christmas,” I tell her—lying through my fucking teeth.
“You do?”
“And I can honestly tell you Joy that with you involved, I’m liking Christmas more and more.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. I was actually dreading this Christmas before I met you Joy. I owe you for helping me find the old Christmas spirit.”
“Now you’re just making things up.”
“Nope. I’m being completely truthful. Scout’s honor.”
“Were you ever a scout, Eb?” she asks with a smile.
“Once a very long time ago,” I tell her, even though the memory is not a good one, I don’t let her in on that sad truth.
“Well then, I’m going to make it my job to bring you all the Christmas joy I can.”
