Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Gabe

I ’ll be honest, I wasn’t at all expecting to find his mouth on mine. Or his arms curled up around me, his hands pressing to the back of my shoulders, pulling me tightly against him. My hands on his broad chest are trapped.

He kisses without hesitation or question. He knows what he wants and apparently that’s to kiss me. His tongue moves in my mouth, tracing over mine and teasing me to respond and chase his into his mouth.

I’ve always enjoyed kissing, so it doesn’t take my lovesick heart long to become completely invested in this. The kiss is long, drawn out. My entire body is humming by the time I remember what I was doing and pull my mouth from his.

That doesn’t exactly discourage him. His lips trace over my jaw and down my neck when I let my head fall back, trying to contain the moan that’s working its way from my chest.

“I hope I answered your question,” he murmurs against my skin.

I shiver, gooseflesh making my skin feel tight all down my arms and back. “Yeah, I think I understood.”

He chuckles, his mouth still moving sensually over my skin .

“We should… eat. Before it’s cold.”

His kisses stop and I nearly take the words back. Like, I’m fucking close to saying screw breakfast, just keep touching me like this.

But Edries nods. “I worked hard on that fruit.”

I grin and step backward. Suddenly, I feel a chill. Which is ridiculous since I’m quite sure the small cabin is nearly 130 degrees. It’s so damn hot. Which is why I took a chance on offending him by parading around in just my underwear this morning.

Edries doesn’t move for a minute, but then asks, “What can I do to help?”

Turning back to the stove where I have my French toast trapped in a warm pan, I tell him to get drinks for breakfast. Then I begin plating. Two pieces each—they’re thick Texas toast so it should be plenty—topped with butter, dusted with powdered sugar, and then a healthy drizzle of pure maple syrup. For a little extra decadence, I add a dollop of whipped cream on the side.

To his bowls of fruit, I add a spoonful of Greek yogurt and then a healthy drizzle of pure wildflower honey. The cabinet has several kinds of honey. I kind of want to line them all up and see if I can find a difference in flavor. Just out of curiosity.

We sit at the table and begin eating.

“This is really good,” Edries says.

I smile around a bite. “I’ve spent the better part of a year mastering French toast.” Because it was Roux’s favorite. I don’t say that and I don’t allow myself to concentrate on Roux for long. He’s not here. He’s with his guys and he’s happy. That’s what matters.

“It’s amazing,” Edries says.

“Thanks. Your fruit chunks are exactly the same size. That’s impressive.”

He snorts. “I had an obsessive nanny growing up.”

We eat in silence after that. It’s not awkward, just quiet. The only sound being the usual eating clinks and the sound of the fire in the other room. When we’re done, we clean together, which I think is Edries’ excuse to keep accidentally on purpose pressing or rubbing against me. Though he doesn’t bother hiding it.

When we’re done, we just look at each other.

“So…” he says after a while. “Movies?”

I start to nod, but then I have a better idea. A grin takes over. “Come on.”

Edries follows me into the living room and I bring him to the back of the space where there are a dozen wrapped packages in brown packaging. “I know I paid for this room because these are specifically my requests,” I say, eyeing him in my peripheral vision.

He hums and glances at the tree. “I’m more than confident that at least some of those packages are things I’ve ordered.”

I shrug. “We can find out on Christmas. Choose one of these.”

“As you said, we can open on Christmas,” he counters.

I shake my head. “These aren’t those kinds of presents. I saw this thing online where a guy wanted to surprise his girlfriend with different cutesy activities to do for the holidays. Coupley things. Some romantic. Some nostalgic.” I shrug. “I gave the desk a list of fifty very specific items and asked them to randomly choose twelve, wrap them, and leave them here.”

“That’s really adorable,” he says.

Rolling my eyes, I gesture to the pile again. “Choose one.”

He looks at them and chooses. I watch as he tears off the twine and then pulls the wrapping away carefully. As if what’s inside might break. Honestly, I’m just glad I didn’t put anything sexy on that list. This could be awkward.

The box he reveals is a deluxe gingerbread house kit. With a wide grin, I take it from him and head back to the kitchen. “There were options I found online where we actually have to bake the gingerbread, but I’ve heard that it’s a very finicky cookie so I thought pre-made was best. Also…” I start sorting through the cabinets until I find what I’m looking for. “I requested this extra add-on package if they chose to go with that, because there’s never enough candy or icing.”

Edries is watching me, a kind of hot smile on his face as he does. I’m not a self-conscious person, but the way he’s looking at me threatens to make me blush, so I turn my attention to getting the house unpacked. I’m just about to tell him he doesn’t have to do this with me if he doesn’t want to when he pinches a large dot of icing on his finger and puts it in his mouth.

The face he makes has me laughing. “That’s pure sugar!”

“It’s far too much sugar,” he says, smacking his lips. “Ew.”

I laugh. “It’s meant to be cement, Edries.”

“Don’t you eat these things after?”

“No. They’re to look at. It’s actually a waste of food.”

I’m still somewhat giggling when he shudders and pops a piece of candy in his mouth. “Much better.”

Once we get going, he looks like he’s having a great time. We keep stealing looks at each other and I wonder if the strange heat that’s between us is something only I feel or if he does, too. Was the kiss enough to get it out of his system, or is he remembering his mouth on my skin like I am?

So I don’t focus and obsess on that, I ask, “Did you do this with your kids?”

Edries sighs. “No. I always wanted to, but Bernice was not the kind of person that liked ‘peasant projects’ as she called them. If I was feeling nostalgic as she said, then she hired professional bakers to build us a gingerbread town for me and the kids to enjoy looking at, but that we didn’t actually have to lower ourselves to do.”

“Ouch,” I say.

“Mmm,” he agrees. After a minute, he adds, “More than anything, I wanted to recreate the magic of Christmas for my kids that I enjoyed growing up. I’m not sure I ever managed. Bernice wanted every room in our house, including the kids’ rooms, to be magazine worthy. She loved having photoshoots and our house featured.”

“What’s your favorite childhood holiday memory?” I ask, hoping to distract him from the bitterness of his ex-wife.

As I watch, a smile curls his lips. “I was seven. I woke up before dawn on Christmas morning and snuck downstairs. Just as I stepped into the Christmas room—yes it was an entire room dedicated to everything for this morning specifically—the enormous grandfather clock was striking five. I had a sudden fear of the nutcracker coming to life—the Mouse King attacking me and the Sugar Plum Fairy having to come to my rescue. But what I saw instead was pure magic.”

“I suppose mouse kings and sugar plum fairies weren’t everyday occurrences.”

Edries meets my eyes as he laughs. “This was Christmas magic. The tree was easily ten feet tall, lit with hundreds of white lights and wrapped in ribbons. The train under the tree continued its merry course without pause. Around the room, a continuous shelf held a village that literally wrapped the entire perimeter. It was lit up. Little street lights winked at me. I could even see lights from inside the homes. And all around the room were the spoils of Santa being there. Elaborate present mountains and paths through the room so we didn’t trip. Stuffed stockings hanging over the fireplace.”

He pauses for a minute, concentrating on lining little candy canes on the path to the gingerbread house, but I think he’s still lost in his memory.

“There was a single table that had nothing on it except evidence of Santa’s visit. A simple white plate with cookie crumbs, and a carrot stub that had been nibbled. A glass with the last sip of milk. And a note that read Dear Edries, Thank you for being such a good boy this year. I’m so proud of the man you’re going to become. Love, Santa. I kept that note right up until Bernice found it the first year we were married.”

I wince as the sadness creeps into his voice. Part of me wants to ask why he married her. Why did he stay married to her? She sounds like an awful person. But it’s not my business, so I don’t ask.

“What about you?” Edries asks and I look up to meet his eyes. “Favorite childhood holiday memory.”

“There’s not one, specifically, but it’s doing things like this with my cousins. Not just for Christmas but for every holiday—wrapping presents, decorating the yard for Halloween, making stained glass pictures out of tissue paper and construction paper for New Year’s. Decorating cookies for Valentine’s Day, dying food green for St. Patrick’s Day, dying Easter eggs. There are six of us that were born within a month of each other, and we did everything together for years. The first time we didn’t was when we were… fifteen, I think. Jordan canceled, telling us he had a date. If Jordan was too old to do this, then that meant Ben and Lauren were, too. So that Valentine’s Day, we didn’t get together. I think we all felt the absence because we eagerly made plans for St. Patrick’s day. But it was like… that was the first moment we truly realized we were growing up. Things started getting in our way —school projects, sports, clubs. Then college, girlfriends, boyfriends, careers, kids. We usually try to get together two or three times a year, but it’s harder and harder as we get older.”

Edries nods. “Sometimes, I wish I could go back to the simplicity and magic of childhood.”

I nod. I enjoy my life, and I love my career. But yes, there are days when I wish I could go back.

We spend the rest of the day lounging around and talking. Watching movies. Innocently brushing against each other when it’s entirely unnecessary. We cook together and clean up together. After dinner, we find ourselves on the couch watching a movie. But we’re too busy making plans for tomorrow—Christmas Eve—and then Christmas day following.

Since we’re not entirely sure how much of his order was stocked and how much of mine was, we decided that tomorrow we’re going to splurge and munch on throughout the day. Keep adding appetizers to the table every hour or so and pick as we go. We’ll open a few more activities from my pile to entertain us and stay up late on the couch to watch for Santa.

Yes, all in joking, but talking about childhood memories made me long for those days. I think Edries feels the same way I do since he suggested it. We’ll camp out on the floor in front of the fire and share more memories while drinking hot chocolate and eggnog all night!

Then on Christmas day, we’ll make a breakfast bake and open the stockings while it cooks. Eat. Then presents. We’ll cook an early dinner—a feast for two, and then spend the rest of the night watching movies.

By the time we’re settled on the details, we’re sitting close. Facing each other with our legs tucked up under us and our knees on top of each other. When our conversation stops, I realize the movie is over. Glancing at the television, I find it’s been over for a while. The screen is dark, the system having gone to sleep.

I lick my lips, looking back at Edries. His eyes are on my lips. “Want to go to bed?” he asks.

I nod.

“I’ll get the fires settled for the night and meet you there.”

With another nod, I get up and hurry into the bathroom. I take another shower, washing thoroughly because… well, I just don’t know what he’s thinking. What he’s wanting. Then I dump my supplies into the drawer next to the bed and climb in.

Then I wait. Nerved up, anxious, and horny as fuck.