“Oh, shit,” River said on a chuckle, then he let out a low whistle. “Sure was. You were not happy about that.”
“Hell no, I wasn’t. That little tramp, she knew exactly what she was doing. Tabatha had the hots for you all through high school. She never did care that we were together.” I shook my head. “Just waiting for her chance.”
“Well, you didn’t let her take that chance, if I remember correctly,” River said with a shit-eating grin. “Because I’m pretty sure you said something along the lines of in your dreams, Flabby Tabby and then you straddled me and made out with me right there for everyone to see.”
I smiled proudly. “Had to remind those girls who had your heart.”
River’s eyes crinkled more with his grin, and maybe a little from the rum, too. I’d lost count of how many spiked eggnogs we’d had. All I knew was that they had gone from a nice, smooth, proper mixture, to something closer to all rum with a splash of nog on top.
I took a drink from my glass, still smiling at the memory. Then, an idea struck me.
“We should play now.”
River cocked a brow. “Play what?”
“Truth or dare.”
His smile turned into a frown, and he looked down at what remained in his glass, finishing it off before standing. He was already heading to the kitchen to refill when he said, “Aren’t we a little old for games?”
“Age is just a number,” I argued, hopping up from where I’d been sitting crisscross on the floor. I drained what was left of my own nog in the name of refilling at the same time as River, though he’d had a sip left in his and I’d had half a glass.
He smirked at me when I slid my glass next to his just as he was pouring the rum.
“Come on,” I insisted. “It’ll be fun. And tell you what — I’ll even give you a skip. If I ask you something you don’t want to answer, or dare you to do something you don’t want to do, you can use it.”
A heavy breath came from his throat as he poured.
“Pleeeease,” I added, batting my lashes.
He peeked at me with a grin, and then shook his head. “Fine. But I want two skips.”
“Baby.”
“Hey, I just know how dirty you can play this game, and I’m not trying to go streaking in a snowstorm.”
“Aw, dang it — you took my first idea!” I winked with the joke, pulling the eggnog from the fridge to top off our glasses.
Once we had our refills, we sat back down in front of the fire on the pillows we’d laid out there, and Moose curled up beside me again, wagging his tail gently when I rubbed the fur on his neck.
“Okay, truth or dare?” I asked when we were settled.
River laughed. “You’re so excited. You look like a kid who just got turned loose in Disneyland.”
“Answer the question.”
Another laugh. “Truth.”
“Lame,” I teased, but then I tapped my chin, looking up to the ceiling as I thought of a question. “Oh! I know.” I pointed my finger at his chest. “That one day that I walked in on you in our bedroom and you were all out of breath and naked, had you really just finished a workout and you were getting in the shower, or were you masturbating?”
His eyes went wide as saucers, and he barked out a laugh. “I can’t believe you remember that.”
“Answer the question, mister.”
“Both.”
I arched a brow. “Both?”
“I had just worked out. And I was getting in the shower,” he said, smirking. “But I also might have had a little one-on-one time in-between those two things.”
“I knew it!” I giggled. “You were so jumpy when I walked in. Also, no fair, didn’t invite me to the party.” I stuck my bottom lip out in a pout.
River just laughed me off, taking a big drink of his nog. “Your turn. Truth or dare?”
“Dare.”
He shook his head like he already knew. Then, after a long pause, he said, “I dare you to take a shot.”
“Done.”
“Of gin.”
At that, I grimaced. “Riverrrrr…noooo.”
“Does that mean you’re using your pass?”
I narrowed my eyes, determined when I stood. “Hell no. Pour the shot, big boy.”
He did, and I took it, and promptly had to cover my mouth and squeeze my eyes shut to avoid vomiting. Once the terrible liquid had settled in my gut, I chased it with some water and a little eggnog before it was River’s turn again.
This time, he chose dare.
“I dare you to stick your bare ass to that window and hold it there for sixty seconds,” I said, pointing to the window on the other side of the Christmas tree. Sure, it was dark. And sure, no one lived close enough on either side of River’s cabin that anyone would see.
But I knew that window was freezing cold.
River groaned, looking up to the ceiling.
“You can pass,” I teased. “If you’re too chicken.”
“You wish,” he said, and then he hopped up off the floor, and without another ounce of hesitation, he yanked his sweatpants and boxers down in one strong pull.
“River!” I said, laughing as I shielded my eyes.
“Just doing my dare.”
I laughed again, shaking my head, and I swear I only peeked a little through the slits of my fingers as he walked away from me, watching each glorious muscle of his toned ass move with him.
When he got to the window, he turned to face me, using his hands to shield his member. “Alright, you can look, ya big baby.” He chuckled. “Not like you haven’t seen it before.”
I rolled my eyes once they were uncovered, and then with a deep breath, River leaned back until his ass was on the window.
He sucked in a breath, eyes shooting open wide. “Fuck me, that’s cold!”
I cackled, and that laughter stayed with me for the whole sixty seconds as he bounced a little, squeezing his eyes closed, cursing over and over, all the while holding his junk and pressing his ass against that window.
I may have counted slower than necessary, but once I hit sixty, he hopped back over to his pants and pulled them on quickly while I looked away, keeping my eyes on my eggnog, instead.
“That was just cruel,” he said when he was clothed again, standing and holding his butt toward the fire. “Laugh while you can, because I’m going to get you back. Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
He glared at me. “Now who’s chicken shit?”
I stuck my tongue out, sipping on my eggnog while I waited for him to ask his question.
“Alright,” he said, plopping down in front of me on the floor again. “How many people have you slept with?”
My jaw hinged open. I waited for him to make a comment, or laugh, but he just watched me unflinchingly, waiting.
I could have used my skip. Part of me wanted to use my skip. But I had no idea what the rest of this game would hold, and I had a feeling I should hold onto those passes for something worse.
I swallowed. “One.”
River’s gaze didn’t change. His forest eyes held mine until I could no longer stand the way he stared at me, the way he was looking through my answer like there was something more behind it.
No, I hadn’t slept with anyone else.
No, it didn’t mean anything.
Other than I had been too busy seeing the world to care about hooking up with anyone.
I cleared my throat. “Truth or dare?”
“Dare,” he croaked out. “And just in case you’re wondering, it’s one for me, too.”
My heart thumped hard in my chest at his admission, at the truth he answered that I didn’t ask but wanted so desperately to know.
All this time… and he hadn’t slept with anyone else, either.
What did that mean?
I lifted my eggnog to my lips, telling myself sternly that it meant nothing. Nothing that I needed to read into, anyway.
I tore my eyes from River’s and looked at the fire, inst
ead.
And so the game went.
I dared him to take a shot of whiskey, he dared me to lick one of Moose’s dog toys. I asked him where the strangest place he’d ever peed was, and he asked me to tell him the truth about the expensive bracelet I’d come home with when we were nineteen that he knew I couldn’t afford.
The more the game went on, the more we drank, and laughed, and teased each other. It seemed the harsh environment we’d lived in for the majority of the day was finally gone, and I much preferred the one we were in now.
It was close to midnight when River selected dare, and I was running out of ideas. But one glance across the room and that all changed.
“Remember that home video your dad showed me where you had that big blanket wrapped around you as a kid, and you were prancing around saying Look at me, Dad! I’m a queen! I’m a queen!”
“Men can’t be queens, son. Men are kings.” He mocked in his father’s voice.
“But… boys can be queens too, right? I wanna be a queen!” I said, and we both laughed.
When the sound faded, River had a distant look in his eyes, his thumb tracing the lip of his glass.
“Alright. That’s your dare,” I said, snapping my fingers before the moment became too heavy. “I want a replay.”
I hopped up from where I’d been sitting and grabbed the Christmas Blanket, tossing it at him. He caught it with a dramatic oof, folding the fabric over in his hands with a grin.
“Come on,” I said, and I took a seat on the couch like I was in the audience, and the space in front of the fireplace was his stage. “Let’s see it.”
River heaved a sigh, but when he was up on his feet, he slipped right into the role. He held his head high, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders and letting it trail behind him while he waltzed around saying I’m a queen! I’m a queen!
I laughed and laughed until my sides hurt, rolling around on the couch. When River finally stopped, he stood in front of the fire with the blanket still on his shoulders, watching me.
The fire illuminated him from behind, making him something of a silhouette. I wished the power was on for the simple fact that I would have loved to see him in the twinkle of the lights winding around the Christmas tree.
Still, the garland and ornaments reflected the flames of the fire, and all the candles that surrounded us cast him in a warm glow. I watched a million different emotions pass over that half-shadowed face of his before he opened his arms, the blanket stretching out like a cape.
“Come here.”
I frowned, and didn’t move an inch, not until River smirked and nodded his head, motioning for me to join him.
“Come on, Eliza. Get in here.”
My chest tightened when he said my name, along with my throat, and I tried but failed to swallow as I made my way over to where he stood. When I was a few feet in front of him, he grinned wider, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me flush against him.
The Christmas Blanket was around us both now, covering us in warmth. For a moment, I didn’t know what to do with my hands. My arms were glued to my sides awkwardly until River chuckled, using his own hands to guide mine up to his shoulders.
Then, he wrapped his around me once more, and we started to sway.
The music from the radio had been so soft before, and us so loud, that I didn’t really remember it was playing at all. But now that we were silent, it was all I heard, the smooth melody and sweet voice of Bing Crosby singing “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.”
We swayed gently in front of the fire, my eyes on River’s chest, but I knew his were on me. I didn’t know why I was so nervous, but when I finally looked up and into his eyes, I felt it ten-fold.
“Truth or dare?”
The question was just above a whisper, and I whispered my reply. “Truth.”
“Do you hate me?”
I frowned, dropping my head down to his chest and soaking in the feel of his arms around me for a long while. I’d forgotten what it felt like, to be wrapped up this way, to be held. I forgot the way my head fit just perfectly under his chin, the way his flannel shirt smelled, the way I could always faintly hear his heartbeat when I rested my head on his chest like I did now.
“No,” I finally said. I lifted my head again to look at him. “But sometimes, I wish I did.”
His jaw tensed, but he never stopped holding me, never stopped swaying.
God, those eyes. How they’d haunted me since the last time I saw them, watching me leave in my rearview mirror. They watched me the same way now — like I was all River had ever known, all he’d ever needed, and also the only thing to ever break him.
River’s hands were warm against my lower back, my hips, and he pulled me in even closer, gazing down at me over his nose.
His eyes flicked to my lips, and the breath that came from his chest when he did was one I knew I’d hear forever replayed in my memory.
Longing.
Pain.
Regret.
“Truth or dare?” I asked, voice cracking with the question.
“Truth.”
“Did you ever miss me, after I left?”
He shook his head, the muscles of his jaw ticking, nose flaring, hands still pulling me in, closer, closer.
“Only every day, Eliza,” he whispered, his brows bending together. “Every hour. Every minute. Every second you’ve been gone.”
Emotion surged through me, but I didn’t have the chance to break beneath it before the blanket dropped from around us, and River took me full in his arms.
And then his mouth was on mine, hard and punishing, a kiss and a gunshot all the same.
I cried out at the connection — a sigh, perhaps, or a moan or a whimper. Maybe it was all of those things, all wrapped into one, my body and brain so confused it couldn’t decide how to react.
But I leaned into him, into that kiss, and the ghost that was River Jensen.
His arms were sturdy where they held me, and as our lips melded together, it was as if there was no other place in the world we could possibly be. It was a kiss we’d shared a hundred times before. It was a kiss I’d never experienced, never even dreamed of, not until the moment his lips were on mine. It was years of love and passion. It was years of heartache and pain. It was everything I hated, everything I desired, everything I’d forgotten and everything I would always remember, too.
This is my husband, my heart screamed. This is the love of my life.
This is a stranger, my brain combatted. This is the man who let you go.
River swept his tongue over mine, sending a bolt of electricity ripping through me, shooting straight to my core. And in the next breath, I pressed my hands into his chest, shoving him away.
I’d already turned my back when River groaned at the loss, covering my mouth with both hands. I shook my head, eyes welling with tears, emotion swimming with the alcohol in my bloodstream, making for a dangerous current I knew had the power to sweep me under.
“Why,” I asked softly, almost so soft I wondered if he’d heard me at all. I turned to face him again, slowly, timidly, the glow of him blurred through my tears. “Why would you do that? Hold me like that, kiss me like that…” I sniffed. “But you just let me go. When I stood in front of you just like this and asked you what you wanted, what you needed. When I asked you to come with me, but you wouldn’t.” I shook my head, desperation aching through me. “Why, River?”
“Eliza…”
“Just tell me why.”
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing hard in his throat as he looked into the fire. Tears glossed his own eyes, and when he found my gaze again, I swore the way he looked at me would break whatever part of me was still holding on.
“I knew Dad was dying,” he said gruffly. “He told me.”
My bottom lip trembled. “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was going to,” he said. “Of course, I was going to. You were my best friend, Eliza. But I came home, and there you were, sitting at o
ur dining table with all these plans laid out.”
He shook his head, and realization washed over me like an icy flood.
It was the night I told him I wanted to leave.
Or rather, I wanted us to leave.
I’d spent my day off clipping photos out of travel magazines, making vision boards, planning routes and researching what we could do to earn money in each place I wanted to visit around the world. I had a plan, a way to make it work, a way for us to see the world and make enough to live on, too.
And when he walked through the door that night, it was all I could do to wait until he’d taken his coat off to tell him all of it.
“When I saw it all, and listened to you talking about getting away, about how this town was suffocating you, how you felt stuck…” He grimaced. “Eliza, I couldn’t tell you. Not then.”
“But you should have,” I argued. “I… I could have stayed. I would have stayed.”
“And that’s exactly the problem!” River held his hands out toward me before letting them fall. “Don’t you see? My dad was already dying. And if you would have stayed, you would have died, too. This town was killing you. I was killing you — your spirit, your dreams, your love and vivaciousness for life. I was holding you back from where you wanted to be… from who you wanted to be.”
I shook my head, over and over, the tears falling harder now. “You should have told me. You should have given me a choice. You… you didn’t fight for me,” I said through my tears. “You just let me go.”
“And I regret that mistake,” he said firmly, his feet carrying him toward me. I wanted to move. God, how I wanted to back away, but I was rooted in place. “I have every minute since the one where I lost you. But I loved you, Eliza,” River croaked when he was just inches from me. “I loved you. So I let you go.” His hands reached out, framing my face, his eyes searching mine as he shook his head like every word was the most horrible truth. “And damn it if I don’t love you still.”
The next sob that broke through my chest was cut off when his mouth met mine again, this time warm and comforting and gentle, yet sure. His hands held my face, fingers curling in my hair, thumbs brushing my temples. I leaned into that touch, into that kiss, into that man with everything that I was, with everything I ever had be.
The Christmas Blanket: A Second-Chance Holiday Romance Page 6
