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“Everything’s fine,” he throws out over his shoulder, his deep voice rumbling in his chest.
“Oh my God. Oh my God,” I pant as I ride out my pleasure. When I’m spent, I just sit there, my body relaxing incrementally, tension oozing out of me.
He nips at my earlobe. “You’re right. I would love the fuck out of those pigtails. Just as long as you keep that pretty little mouth shut.”
eight
The kitchen is finally clean.I’ve got the local radio station playing me Christmas tunes, sweat dripping down my back, and glaring out at Cameron Michaels as he chops firewood.
Just as long as you keep that pretty little mouth shut.
Well, that’s a surefire way to get me to do the opposite. God, I’ve never been so mad at myself in my entire life. One guy—fucking related to me—who knows how to work my body, and I give up my freaking feminist card. No. Absolutely freaking not. Consider it laminated and stamped because no more. Uncle Cam can kiss my ass.
I’m taking back control, and since it’s my holiday, too—stuck here alone with him—I’m going to make the best of it.
With several deep breaths, I close my eyes, truly listening to the song blaring out of the radio.Deck the halls with boughs of holly. Fa la la la la la la la la.
True that. I’m about to deck some mothereffing halls, whetherUncle Camlikes it or not.
As soon as I figure out where the decorations are, of course. They’re probably stuck right up his prickly ass.
Well, that isn’t true to the Christmas spirit. …They’re probably stuck right up his holly holder.
How about that?
Smiling to myself, I grab my jacket and head out to the backyard. The bite in the air nearly takes my breath away as I step outside. My breath clouds in front of me. There’s a fresh couple of inches of snow on the ground, and before I even get to the haphazardly thrown firewood, my boots are soaked through.
Despite the fact that it’s freezing out here, Uncle Cam is sweating. He wipes his brow before bringing the axe down on a piece of wood, splitting it in two with a loud thwack. He kicks one of the sides off the stump and places another that needs to be cut on top. I watch him do it again, the pure concentration on his face as he brings the axe down reminding me of the look on his face earlier. He’s ditched his ballcap for a beanie that still looks sexy as fuck, even though I’m not looking at him in that way anymore.
Eventually, he gazes up. “Are you just going to stand there ogling?”
He fucking wishes.
Before I can tell him what I’m doing out there, he motions toward the firewood. “Why don’t you take some inside and set it next to the fireplace in the dining room.”
I lift a brow. I said I’d help him, not be at his beck and call. Regardless, I take a deep breath and conjure up some Christmas spirit. My mother would say that the meanest of all need more than the others, but I still don’t know what Cameron Michaels’ problem is. Squatting, I pick some wood up, glancing up at him as I do. “I’ll help if you tell me where the Christmas decorations are.”
“How should I know?” he asks, bringing down the axe again. The loud thwack makes my stomach squeeze.
Ifhe’s trying to freak me out, it won’t work. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you own the place.”
He shrugs, getting another piece ready. “Try the attic.”
He steps back, heaving the axe over his shoulder before bringing it back down harder than the last time. I stand. “You really don’t care about Christmas, do you?”
“Not really,” he mutters. “Why should I?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Because it’s literally a time for caring. To spend time with family and—”
“Well, I’m short on family, so…”
It’s like everything this man says is to drive people away. “Suit yourself,” I counter. I wish Grandma Junie had mentioned that this guy had the personality of a gnat. That would’ve gone a long way in deciding whether to fulfill her wish or not. I’m so close to calling my mom and telling her and Dad not to bother coming, but they’re probably on their way. I haven’t been able to get a hold of them all morning, so fingers crossed they’re in the air, flying to rescue me from this hellhole. If worse comes to worst, we can find another inn to spend Christmas together.
Turning, my mind already on digging out decorations , I freeze when I feel two pats on my butt. “Good girl,” Uncle Cam breathes.
Good girl? Good…girl?
I ignore the way my body heats at his praise, and instead, I drop the firewood right where I’m standing and march back into the house. He cangood girlsomewhere else because this girl is trying to keep her dignity intact.
