by Dylann Crush
“Told you.” He scooted closer on the bench, peering over her shoulder as she scrolled to the next meaning. “Oh my.”
The last two definitions of coldcocked referred to sexual acts. One involved putting ice in your mouth before giving a blow job, and the other described putting certain toys in the freezer before inserting them in certain places. Tiffany wrinkled her nose, considering. “Do you think that would feel good?”
“Which one?” Nick asked.
“I’m not sure I could keep it in my mouth.”
He made a choking sound.
She nudged him with her elbow. “The ice, I mean. How would that even work?”
“And the other one?” he wondered.
“Hm,” Tiffany considered. “It sounds rather unpleasant, but maybe, if it was really hot outside…maybe I’d try it.” She shot him a wicked grin. “It’d be like getting fucked by Jack Frost.”
His head fall back in a burst of laughter. Staring up at the sky he said, “Speaking of Jack Frost…”
Tiffany followed the direction of his gaze and realized it had begun to snow. Fat white flakes floated on the air, dusting the bench and sprinkling the sidewalk.
“We should probably get going soon,” he said. “May I accompany you home?”
She pressed a kiss to the side of his jaw. “Yes,” she whispered. “But can we stay here a little while longer?”
“We can stay here as long as you like.” He leaned back on the bench, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and she snuggled into his warmth. Together, they watched the snow drift down.
The moment felt so right, so shining and perfect, Tiffany was struck by a pang of terror. What was she doing? Who was this person laughing and cuddling on a park bench in the gently falling snow and kissing under mistletoe?
This wasn’t her.
But at the same time, it was.
At least for tonight.
4
ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU IN MY BED
The snow had covered every surface in a wispy blanket of spun sugar by the time the ride share Nick ordered arrived to pick them up. Before he’d let her give him her address, Nick had insisted she text two friends to let them know he was going home with her.
Embarrassed to admit she didn’t have close friends, Tiffany had texted her neighbor and a gym buddy. She would have texted her mom or one of her sisters, but for one thing, they all lived in another state, and for another, as soon as they heard she was bringing a guy back to her place, they’d want to know all the details. And then her mother would demand she bring him home with her for family Christmas.
Tiffany wasn’t ready to give any details. She was still getting details herself. And there was no way in hell she was inviting anyone to go home for the holidays with her.
He held the door for her, and Tiffany stepped inside, grateful for the offer of his arm to help keep her balance on the slick curb.
“I do own a car,” he explained, hopping in behind her and closing the door. “But I usually take the train into the city.”
“Are you telling me you live in the suburbs?” She gasped in mock outrage.
“Guilty as charged.” He shrugged good-naturedly. “I like having space to spread out.”
Hungry to learn more about him, Tiffany ached to ask about his home, but she didn’t want to rush things. Didn’t want to get too deep and too personal too fast. The fact of the matter was, she’d never wanted to get deep or personal with anyone before. Another twinge of panic surged through her and again she wondered what was happening to her.
She frowned. Maybe that bump on the head had knocked something loose after all.
“What’s wrong?” Nick asked.
Tiffany bit her lip. She hadn’t realized he could see her face in the shrouded darkness of the backseat.
Nick twined their fingers together. “I can feel something is up.”
He can feel something? This time the surge of panic was more than a twinge. It was a full body tremor. How could he feel something? Was he freaking Obi Wan Kenobi? How was it possible to forge such a strong connection with someone so quickly?
He leaned closer, whispering in her ear. “Talk to me, Tiffany.”
She shivered at the sound of her name on his lips in the dark. She wanted to hear him say her name over and over. Whisper it while he kissed her. Moan it as he entered her. Groan it as he came inside her. Tiffany swallowed hard. She was horny. That was all. She was a sex-starved workaholic and the intense connection she was feeling, the deeper contact she was craving, was simply a bi-product of months of pent-up lust combined with the stress of the holidays.
As much as she wanted to believe that, she knew it wasn’t true. Yes, she was thirsty as hell for the man sitting next to her and she very much wanted to spend the night with him. But if all she needed was to get off, she had plenty of useful ways to do that on her own.
She focused on their entwined hands. What she wanted was contact. Human touch. She desired a connection on a deeper level.
Gah. There I go again.
Tiffany let out a shaky breath. “It’s just…we’re almost at my apartment and I don’t want the night to end.” There. That was the truth. Some of it, anyway. “And I know this sounds trite, but I really don’t usually do this.”
“Do what?”
“I usually don’t ask men I’ve just met to come up to my apartment.”
“And I usually don’t say yes to women who don’t usually ask men they’ve just met to come up.” His mouth quirked. “Sorry. That was my attempt at a joke. What I’m trying to say is I don’t care what you usually do or don’t do. Your past is your past. It’s your business.” Nick squeezed her hand. “Let’s focus on tonight.”
Tiffany nodded. Focus on tonight. That’s what she’d been trying to do. She just needed to try harder. The car pulled up to her apartment and again, Nick held the door for her, arm out to make it easier for her to step onto the curb.
“Someone taught you very good manners.” She smiled.
“My yaya would be very pleased to hear you say that.” He bowed formally and winked. “Chivalry is alive and well in the Santos family.”
She laughed and led the way up to her apartment. Key in hand, she paused outside her door. “This is it,” she said. On impulse, Tiffany opened the door and announced, “Are you ready to meet my family?”
“Um…” Nick stammered, freezing in the doorway to her apartment. “Your family?”
“Mm-hm.” She hid a smile and ushered him inside. “Come on, I can’t wait to introduce you.”
To his credit, he didn’t run down the hall screaming but managed to calmly cross the threshold. The door snicked shut behind him and he jumped.
“Make yourself at home.” She took his coat and hung it with hers in the closet, then decided she’d tortured him enough. Moving to the large bay window, one of the best features of her apartment, Tiffany gestured to an array of potted succulents. “Say hello to my family!”
“Your family,” Nick repeated slowly.
Tiffany nodded and held one of them up. “This is Gertie, she was the first plant I got, so she’s kind of the big sister to the rest.” She patted the plant’s thick fuzzy petals, cooing to it.
“Hello Gertie.” Nick reached a finger out, stroking a petal as if tickling a baby or a puppy under the chin and Tiffany’s heart almost burst on the spot.
She handed Gertie to Nick to hold and picked up two tiny pots of aloe. “These are Hermie and Kermie. They’re my two newest.”
“I think I’m seeing a pattern here,” Nick mused. “Is there a Bertie?”
“There is,” she grinned and pointed to a jade plant. “Don’t worry, I’m not insane,” she assured him. “I know my plants aren’t real people.” She rotated a few of the pots, rearranging them in the window. “In fact, I used to make fun of my co-worker who named her plant and talked to it.”
“The one with the prankster husband?”
She nodded, surprised he’d remembered
that little detail from their earlier conversation.
“What changed your mind?”
As with every question he asked her, Nick sounded like he was genuinely curious. Like he wasn’t simply humoring her, but really cared to hear her answer. Of all his many attributes, this might be the one Tiffany found most attractive.
“The co-worker went on a long vacation.” Tiffany moved to the kitchen and filled a watering can. “While she was off in Scotland meeting that future prankster husband, Charlie—that’s her plant—started looking rather pathetic.”
“Which led to you playing babysitter,” he concluded.
“Exactly.” Tiffany trickled water into a few of the pots. “I started taking care of Charlie and realized I enjoyed it. There was the soothing ritual of it, but also the feeling like someone was counting on me, even if that someone was a plant. I became their provider. Their protector. Once Cassie, my co-worker, returned, Charlie didn’t need me anymore. And maybe it sounds silly, but I missed him. I decided to buy a plant for myself. Then Gertie seemed so sad in that window all by her lonesome, I ended up buying another, and another…and you get the picture.”
“I think I do.” Nick carefully placed Gertie back on the windowsill.
Tiffany put away the watering can and set out two wine glasses. As she uncorked a bottle, she wondered why she’d told him all that. If she hadn’t said anything, there was no way he would have known her plants were anything other than a collection of succulents. She’d shared a piece of herself with Nick she hadn’t shared with anyone. Not even her real family knew about her plant family.
There’d been no reason for her to reveal so much of herself to him…other than the fact she’d wanted to. And now he probably thought she was the plant version of the cat lady. But if he did, he must not mind too much. Tiffany realized it was unexpectedly freeing to reveal honest pieces of yourself. Keeping that stuff hidden meant never knowing if someone liked the real you.
Tiffany poured the wine and invited Nick to join her on the couch. She wondered if she should have put on some music in case there was an awkward lull in the conversation. That hadn’t happened between them yet, but this was the first time they’d been really truly alone together since they met…oh, about five hours ago.
“You scared me there for a minute,” Nick admitted.
“I did?”
“When you told me I was going to meet your family.”
“I couldn’t resist having a bit of fun.” Her mouth curved in a sorry-not-sorry grin. “You did seem to have a bit of the deer-in-headlights look about you.”
“I’ve met your plant family, so I suppose I should learn a bit about your actual family. Are they local?”
Tiffany shook her head. “I moved to Chicago about six years ago.”
“Where’s home then?” he asked.
“Buffalo.”
“I guess you’re no stranger to winter, huh?”
“Nope.” She made a sound of disgust in the back of her throat. “Or snow.”
He nodded. “We get some bad storms here, but nothing like the totals I hear coming out of Buffalo.”
“Are you from around here, then?” She asked, allowing herself to dip her toe in the Q&A pool. He’d started it, after all.
“Yep. Most of my family lives within an hour of the city. Stick a compass in the center of Chicago, draw a big circle, and it’s like a Santos dart board. East, north, south, west—we’re everywhere.” He sipped his wine. “How does it feel? Being so far from home?”
“It’s not that far.” She shrugged.
“Maybe not, but it’s no hop in the car and drop in for a visit anytime distance either.”
“No,” she agreed. “It’s not.”
“Chicago to Buffalo is what…” his face scrunched as he worked out the math “an eight-hour drive?
“About that.” She nodded. “But I usually fly when I go home.”
“How often is that?”
Tiffany squirmed and swallowed a gulp of wine. She’d been worried she was going to be the one to ask too many questions.
“Sorry if it seems like I’m prying.” Showing off his Obi Wan skills again, Nick immediately picked up on her discomfort and backed off. “We’ve only just met, but I can’t help wanting to know everything about you.”
I understand the feeling.
“It’s okay,” Tiffany hedged. “Usually I spend about a week with my family for the holidays. I guess I don’t really like talking about it because I feel guilty I don’t go home more often. Also…I kind of dread it.” She exhaled. There. She’d said it. She’d revealed a bit of her awfulness. “That probably sounds terrible, but if you met my family, you’d understand. I love them. I really do. But they are loud and demanding and nosy and exhausting.”
“I totally get it.” Nick laughed and pointed at himself. “I’m Greek.” He swirled the wine in his glass. “Any time I go to a family function, it’s the same questions over and over.” Shifting his voice to a higher, more nasal register he mimicked, “‘Nicky, when are you going to bring a nice girl home for us to meet,’ ‘Nicky, how come you haven’t settled down like your brother George, or your cousin George, or your other cousin George.’”
Tiffany almost shot wine out of her nose. “How many Georges are there?”
“A lot.” His blue eyes widened. “And then there’s my personal favorite. ‘Nicky, when you gonna make me a grandma?’”
This time Tiffany did snort wine. “Okay, you do understand.” She laughed, nose burning. “What’s up with the demands to be a grandmother? I have two sisters and between them, they’ve given my mom half a dozen grandkids already. You’d think she’d be set.”
“Exactly.” He grinned at her. “Are you sure you aren’t Greek?”
“Ukrainian. On my mother’s side.” She set her glass down and slid closer, fiddling with his bow tie. “I think that’s enough talk about grandbabies right now.”
He chuckled, and she could feel the vibrations in his throat against her fingertips. She tugged his bow tie loose. “I just realized you’re still in your glee club outfit.”
“A cappella group,” he corrected.
“Oooh.” She grinned. “Found a touchy spot, did I?” She flicked open the top two buttons on his shirt, spreading the collar wide and revealing the hollow of his throat. Unable to resist, she kissed him there. His skin was warm against her lips.
“I didn’t change after the show because I was in a hurry to meet someone,” he reminded her.
She undid several more buttons, down to his vest. “Not that much in a hurry, if I recall.” She slid her hands beneath the crisp fabric of his shirt and tweaked his nipples.
“Ow!”
“I’m sorry. Did that hurt?”
“A little,” he grumbled.
Tiffany spread his shirt apart and bent, sliding her tongue over each nipple. “Better?”
“A little,” he pouted.
She smirked.
“You’re not a lady who likes to be kept waiting, are you?” he asked.
“Patience is not one of my virtues,” she admitted.
“I’ll try and keep that in mind.”
“Good.” She worked at the buttons of his vest. “Why purple?”
“Huh?” He shifted on the couch, helping her slip the vest off his shoulders.
She held the garment up. “Your costumes for the show. Why purple bowties and vests? It’s not very Christmassy.” She tossed the vest aside and finished off the remaining buttons of his shirt. “I would have gone with red, or green, or even gold.”
Nick shrugged out of his shirt.
As she’d suspected, he was lean, but toned, with wide shoulders and a solid chest. His abs weren’t a rippling six pack and his arms weren’t bulging with muscle, but everything was nicely defined and very well made. All in all, she liked what she saw. A lot.
“It’s for the cause.”
“What is?”
“The purple.”
“Oh. Rig
ht.” For a moment, Tiffany had forgotten what they’d been talking about. There was plenty to distract her.
“Technically, the color is orchid.” He reached out and traced the pale purple ribbon pinned to the bodice of her dress, his hand achingly close to the curve of one breast.
“Like the flower?” She asked, still focused on his hand.
He nodded, unpinning the ribbon, his fingers surprisingly nimble on the miniscule clasp. “Orchid comes from the Greek word for testicle.”
“Are you making that up?”
He lifted her hand and placed the ribbon in her palm. “It’s on the foundation’s website. Unless they’re making it up, it’s true.”
“Hm.” Tiffany glanced down at the ribbon. “I’ll never look at orchids the same way again.”
“Or elf hats.” Nick snickered.
“That was a low blow.” Tiffany dropped the ribbon on the coffee table and poked him in the chest. “You’re never going to forget that, are you?”
“Never.” He stared down at her, blue eyes shining with repressed laughter. “It was adorable.”
“It was humiliating,” she groaned.
“What are you going to do with them?” He asked, his hands reaching around to tug at the zipper on the back of her dress.
“The penis ornaments?” Tiffany turned around, giving him better access. “I’m definitely not giving them to my nieces and nephews.”
The sound of her zipper peeling open filled the space between them.
“I bet it would make for a memorable family holiday.”
Though he was still behind her, Tiffany could hear the smile in Nick’s voice as he slipped the straps of her dress off her shoulders and down her arms. Once again, he impressed her with his dexterity, making short work of the hook on her bra. She shimmied and slid free of her dress and bra. They fluttered to the floor.
He made a strangled noise in his throat.
“Nick?” She turned around. “Are you okay?”
He stumbled backward. Mouth working but no sound coming out.
