Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

R ae

It doesn't have tiny white or multicolor lights yet, or even more than one ornament, but our Christmas tree is beautiful. A flood of childhood memories come rushing back to me as I sit under the base of branches, staring up at each of the pine needles. The scent alone is enough to transport me back to when life was simple, my mother's love was everything, and the future was as bright as our fake tree. Mom used to hang those pine-scented car fresheners in between our ornaments, trying to give the plastic branches a real smell. It wasn't until I shared that memory with my ex-husband that I was made aware how poor we were growing up.

"Sugar cookie for your thoughts," Hutton says in a low voice as he comes up behind me and sits down.

He's finally showered and wearing a new T-shirt, this one a deep green that matches the tree. His wet hair is darker and more slicked back than he usually wears it. He didn't bother to shave the five o'clock shadow that's more a beard now and I'm happy about it.

I groan. "I can't eat any more of those." I'd gone overboard the other night, making three dozen in hopes of extending the magical time I was having with Henry. It worked, but now we have so many cookies left over I'll have to throw some out or give them away to neighbors. I know Doc, several houses down the street from me, will welcome a plate.

Hutton slides his hand onto my thigh, the two of us sitting next to each other with our legs crossed, staring at the tree. "Sorry about the streaker earlier."

That gets me smiling. Henry is quite the character when he isn't feeling shy, and I like that he isn't shy around me. "Did you cuff him and throw him in the slammer?"

Hutton's dimple makes an appearance. "His whining about being put to bed seemed to equate to jail time."

"I thought all the theater shenanigans plus Snowmass activities would have worn him out."

"It did. He was mid whine when his eyes closed and he fell asleep." Hutton's hand slides higher on my thigh. "I was thinking about what you asked me. What has me excited right now?"

I nod, already breathless with just his one hand touching me. "Yeah?"

He nods, looking serious and a little bit confused when he answers. "Yeah. The only thing I could think of was this tree, you, me, and Henry."

His thumb sweeps my thigh and I wish I didn't have jeans on so I could feel his calluses on my bare skin. "Wow, I rank up there with the tree, huh?"

Hutton loses the smile as he turns to face me. "I was actually thinking about what we could get up to under the tree with Henry asleep in the guest room."

I playfully lift a shoulder and let it drop. "Well, we could find some lights to string through it. Or put a tablecloth under it as some kind of tree skirt." Hutton shakes his head at each of my suggestions. "Play Go Fish under the tree?"

His hand slips over my hip and under my sweater to cup my breast. My jaw drops, faking shock at his bold move. "I was hoping we could play a game called get naked under the tree."

I shake my head, even while my whole body trembles with need as he brushes his thumb over my nipple. "I'm afraid I don't know that game."

"Don't worry, sugar. I'll teach you." He uses his other hand to press on my shoulder until I lie back on the floor and he prowls over me. The mock protest dies on my lips as he dips his head and kisses me.

His hands are everywhere and my sweater gets relocated to the floor. My bra gets caught on the Christmas tree, hanging over Hutton's head like an X-rated ornament. It makes me smile, but I don't have much time to focus on it, not when Hutton's hand dives into the waistband of my jeans. He shakes his head.

"Such a naughty girl, Rae. Already wet for me and I haven't even gotten you naked." He ducks his head and laves his tongue across my nipple. I gasp as shudders move through me. His fingers spread me open and he zeroes in with ruthless efficiency. He barely gets going and I'm already coming, chanting his name and gasping for breath.

Hutton's head pops up and his fingers still. "Fuck, that's hot, sugar."

I grin, still breathing hard. "Whoa, choir boy. An f-bomb already?"

That dimple is doing things to my insides, even as I come down from the orgasm. "I bet I can make you come three times under this tree."

I roll my head to see him better as he hitches to the side, his fingers lazily trailing up my belly to undo my jeans. "What are we betting?"

He drops a kiss on my lips before sitting up and moving to pull my jeans down my legs, taking my panties with him. "Since I haven't celebrated the season in awhile, I wouldn't mind another Christmas gift."

I scoff. "So confident in your abilities."

The wolfish smile he sends my way as he wedges his shoulders between my knees has me quaking in anticipation. The tree rising up beyond him makes this scene perfect, one I'll remember long after Hutton and Henry are gone.

"Damn right." And then he ducks his head to use just his tongue and teeth to prove it. In under a minute, my eyes cross and Hutton has to slide his hand over my mouth to keep me quiet as the second orgasm rocks through me.

His cocky grin should irritate me, but considering the payoff is orgasms that top my list of best orgasms ever, I zip my lips and let him be boastful. Orgasm number three hits while he's inside me, his lips fused to mine. But still he doesn't stop. He pulls me off the ground and sits back, letting me ride him, wanting his orgasm to be just as spectacular as mine. Even then he's not content to fall over the edge without me. He grits his teeth, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. His hand comes between my legs and his mouth finds my other nipple. He works me over and only when I'm gasping out a surprised fourth orgasm does he allow himself to join me.

Eventually, we find our way back to my bedroom and cuddle under the sheets to conserve body heat. I'm exhausted in the very best way, but that doesn't stop a giggle from bubbling up.

His fingers still where they were sifting through my hair as I lie on his chest. "What's so funny?"

I trace my finger down his abs, amazed at quite a few things. "I would never have expected my celebrity hall pass to be that good."

"Wow," he says dryly. "Thanks so much for the vote of confidence."

I giggle harder. "No, it's not that. It's just, you expect celebrities to be all about themselves, you know? Who would have thought you'd be interested in a woman's pleasure before your own?"

He snorts softly. "I'm glad I could exceed your very low expectations, sugar."

I shrug, loving how much we still connect, even after sex. "No problem. Though you did lose the bet."

"What?" Hutton jackknifes to a seated position, jostling my head off of him. "Excuse me? That was definitely four."

I sit up too, eyes wide. "Oh, it was. But you bet me three times."

His jaw drops and then his eyes light with humor. He pounces, tickling me before I have a chance to defend myself. The covers go flying and I'm pretty sure my book flies off the bedside table before I cry uncle. We're both breathless when he freezes above me.

"Don't be a sore loser. You know you lost."

His eyes narrow, but the corners of his lips tip up. "Fine. But only because I already know what I'm going to get you."

"Wait!" He can't get off that easy. He has more money than the local bank. It would be easy to just buy me anything right off the shelf. "I want it homemade, just like the gift I'm giving you."

He dips his head quickly. "Done."

He repositions us in bed and covers us up, my back to his front. His arm is tight around my waist and I can't help but snuggle against him, wanting to pinch myself. I don't know how long he's staying and I know this is a short-lived holiday fling, but I'm going to soak up every second. Years from now, when I'm still single and lonely, I'll look back on these few days and pat myself on the back for living life to the fullest.

Hutton's breathing is deep and even against my back, making me think he's fallen asleep. I should too, but I can't. All I can think about is how different he is from my ex-husband. How stupid I was to settle for less. Not that Hutton is a candidate for boyfriend, but if the opportunity ever arises in the future with some other man, he'll have some high standards to live up to now.

"I haven't written my own song in five years," Hutton whispers into my hair, voice gruff.

I freeze, straining to make sure I heard him right.

"I record other people's songs and release them. Boom, another hit. One after the other. None of them meaning much to me. Everything I used to love about country music doesn't light me up anymore." His arm tightens around my waist. "I know, poor famous celebrity, complaining about his life, but I'm kind of just going through the motions at this point. I'm not in it for the love of the music anymore or the creative passion of having the perfect lyric come to life. I feel dead inside, creatively. And then there's Henry, my sweet boy being raised by nannies because his mother's too busy. And I can't even be mad at her because I've been doing the same thing."

He sighs, his breath ruffling my hair. "Been thinking about retiring."

I close my eyes, feeling his anguish. I doubt there's many people he can talk to openly about his career. His agent sure didn't seem to understand the pressure he's putting on him. He's divorced. I know he has a best friend that he's mentioned in passing, but he probably doesn't see him much since he spends his life on the road.

"No shame in retiring, you know," I reply softly, stroking the back of his hand on my belly.

He spreads his hand, lacing our fingers together. "I know. I just always thought I'd be doing this until I die."

"Then keep doing it." I squeeze his fingers. "But do it on your terms."

He's silent for awhile, and I wonder if I've overstepped. When he speaks again, there's no irritation, just curiosity in his tone. "What do you mean by that?"

"I was told for years to ditch the cement walls I love so much and only do my paintings on canvas. The only way to really sell my art is to do canvas, but canvas feels so limiting. So small and contained. I love painting a wall where the scene is continuous and free-flowing. Art feels like it should be bigger than me and painting a huge wall gives me that. I know I may never be famous and may never put food on the table with my art, but I'm okay with that."

I disentangle from him and turn over to look him in the eyes. "You've already become famous. You have respect in your industry and, I assume, fortune. If you can't deviate and make the music you love now, when can you do it?"

He stares into my eyes, but doesn't share what's going on in his head. And that's okay. It's his dilemma to figure out. I'm just a struggling artist with ideals up in the clouds and problems of my own.

I lean forward and press a kiss to his chest and lay my head on my pillow, drifting off into sleep.

Doc: I'm not feeling so great.

Mayor Nancy Haney: Are you seriously bailing on being Santa again this year?

Dagny: For the best anyway. Aksel made the best Santa this town has seen in decades.

Janna: I totally forgot about that! Lol Morgana didn't seem to mind Aksel being Santa…

John Ross: Do you have a secret Santa fetish, Janna?

Chief Blade: Jesus. Take that to your private text message string.

Doc: What I'm saying is that there's a new sucker…ahem, I mean…a new guy in town.

Mayor Nancy Haney: Oohhh, I see what you're getting at. And the answer is an emphatic YES. Hutton Calder as Santa?? I'd sit on his lap any day…

Doc: Jesus, Joseph, and Mary….

Dagny: I hate myself for this, but I agree with Nancy.

Mayor Nancy Haney: I already screenshotted it. You know, just to document the day you agreed with me.

Dagny: You're so annoying.

Chief Blade: Ladies. The Santa meet and greet is for the kids.

Mayor Nancy Haney: I'm a kid at heart, Chief!

Dagny: Same. Shit, agreeing with you two times in one day?? I need a drink…