4. Amy

Amy

I absolutely adore small towns. Everyone in Coal’s Lake is so kind and…

Who am I kidding? As much as I love it during the holidays, I’d hate living here. Everyone is in their neighbour’s business, I have no idea where I would find clothes that fit properly, and people are too damn happy all of the time. Either they’re constantly on uppers, or it’s all a lie and they are a moment away from drinking whisky from the bottle while crying in a closet. No one is this happy.

Except maybe Mitch.

At the bar, he seemed quiet and reserved. It’s as if a switch was flipped and he’s this sweet, possessive man who can’t take his hands off me. If it were any guy back home, I’d be faking a phone call to get out of this non-date; it would be so easy to fall hard for him, and I can’t afford the distraction right now.

There’s something about Mitch that draws me in and wraps me in a warm blanket of comfort. Which is also how most stalker romance books start—and murder mysteries. Mitch has introduced me to what must be at least a hundred different people. I’m confident I’ve met at least half the town since we arrived at the tree lighting. Murderers don’t typically do that, right?

A woman taps her microphone twice and announces that the tree lighting will begin in a minute. Mitch guides us off to the side where it’s less crowded and stands behind me. His large hand slips into my open jacket, splaying it on my stomach to keep my back flush with his chest. I’m a bit self-conscious since I’m not twenty anymore with flat abs and a fast metabolism. If I dare to consume carbs, I pay for it with an hour at the gym, and I’m still soft.

“Is this okay?” he whispers beside my ear, making my breath hitch. I reply with a nod, but still keep my abdominal muscles contracted. “You seem tense.”

Placing my hand over his, I crane my neck to look at him. I’m about to tell him I’m fine when the woman begins the countdown as if it’s New Year’s Eve. I’m lost in his eyes as the numbers are called out, each one sounding further and further away. His gaze drops to my lips at “three” and at “one” he closes the distance and kisses me.

When you’re on a first date, your goal is to get to know the person. I’ve only known Mitch for an hour, two at most, and am privy to absolutely nothing about him—where he works, what his hobbies are, where he grew up, his least favourite movie, if pineapple belongs on pizza… And I’m letting him kiss me?

Yes, yes, I am .

Mitch’s lips are full and soft, a stark contrast to his prickly five o’clock shadow tickling me. Cheers erupt around us, but neither of us break away. There’s a hint of cinnamon and apple lingering on his lips from the cider I decided against earlier, and I’m regretting not giving in to the sweet indulgence. He lightly licks the seam of my lips, demanding entry I willingly grant him. Fuck, I love kissing him, a little too much. A soft whimper escapes me as he deepens our kiss and I melt into him.

Someone’s throat clears beside us and Mitch chuckles against my lips, slowly pulling back. “Sorry, Aces, I got a little carried away.” He glances at the tree. “Damn, it’s already lit.”

Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out his phone and opens the camera. He snaps a few photos of the tree, then clicks the icon for the front-facing camera and takes a couple of the two of us—one smiling, and one kissing my temple.

Mitch swipes the camera app away and opens his texts, tapping on a thread with Jasper. He does it so openly, not caring that I can see his entire conversation.

Jasper

I’m heading out. I’ll ask Greta to not help tomorrow, if you can make sure someone is there in her place.

Maybe ask Amy?

“What do you say? Want to help Jasper tomorrow?”

I have a brief daydream of Jasper towering over me with his piercing gaze. He has a broody, commanding presence that’s hard to ignore. I swallow hard and shake away the thought. “Doing what?”

“It’s opening day for his Christmas tree farm,” he explains. “It was pushed out a week so we’re hoping to make up for lost time.”

“A Christmas tree farm?” I bark out a laugh. “Don’t tell me, it’s in trouble, and we need to save Christmas?”

“Actually, that’s exactly what we need to do.” There isn’t a hint of teasing in his tone. He genuinely sounds… sad.

Fuck, I’m an asshole.

“Sorry, I thought you were joking. It’s the plot of most Christmas books and movies. His tree farm actually needs help?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, “if this year doesn’t go well, he’ll have to shut it down.”

“I don’t think I would do well chopping down trees, or strapping them to cars, but I’m happy to help any way I can.”

“Thanks. Let him know you’re in.” Mitch hands me his phone and I’m frozen in shock. “Tell him you’re in… Unless you don’t want to come.” The last word comes out as a purr, sending a jolt straight to my pussy.

He rests his chin on my shoulder and reads aloud as I quickly type out a reply.

This is Amy. Mitch told me to reply for him. He asked if I could help and I’m happy to come tomorrow.

Why don’t you come tonight?

“Hmm, that’s a good question. Do you want to come tonight, or do you want to wait until tomorrow?”

I smack Mitch’s chest with the back of my hand, making him chuckle. “Will you stop with the innuendoes? Do you want my help or not?”

“Do you really want me to stop?” he asks against my skin, pressing soft kisses on my neck. My breath catches as he teases the waistband of my jeans.

“No,” I whimper. There are dozens of people around us, he won’t take things further—or at least he shouldn’t—despite every ounce of my body wanting him to.

“Tell him you’re mine for tonight. If he wants me to share, he’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

Heat pools in my belly at the thought of having both of them at the same time. Two men, or more , sharing me has always been a fantasy of mine. Two sets of hands on me. Two mouths licking, sucking, and kissing me. Two hard cocks filling me so full I scream out in pleasure…

Surely he didn’t mean it the way I heard it. My hands shake as I type out an innocent reply.

We will come by first thing in the morning. Have a great night!

Mitch takes the phone from me and tucks it in his pocket. “Okay, Aces”—he nips at my earlobe, making me gasp—“what do you say we find something a little less wholesome to do tonight?”