by Frankie Love
“Do you need any help?” I ask, stepping toward him.
He just grunts back. “No, I got it.”
“Okay,” I say, looking around, trying not to take his short tone personally. He adds kindling and a few logs to the fire. He is focused, strong, and looks like a man who was carved from the mountain. The fire catches and he closes the stove’s door.
“It’ll warm up quick,” he says, looking at the watch on his wrist. “The pastor should be here in a little under an hour. With that snow, it took longer than I expected to get back from the airport.”
“Oh, really?” I smile. It’s December 1st. Everything is going as planned. “Perfect.”
“You hungry?”
“Very,” I admit, following him into the kitchen. The cabin is cozy, and I try to take it all in, wishing Hartley would offer to give me a tour. I don’t want to pry or be annoying, but I also want to know a little more about him before I say I do.
“Chili?” He pulls a few cans from the cupboard.
I give him a tight smile. I just flew hundreds of miles and he welcomes me with canned chili. I swallow, trying to be open-minded. “That’s fine,” I say. “Not much of a cook?”
“No.” He opens the cans into a pot and turns on the burner with his back to me.
I turn in a circle, anxious about everything. Did I just make a massive mistake? He acts like he doesn’t want me here.
“Do you mind if I look around?” I ask.
“Have at it,” he says, not even looking my way.
Determined to be positive, I decide to poke around his home and try to get clues about his personality. In the living room I notice framed family photos. In one, he’s in front of a Christmas tree, all lit up, with an older couple and five other men. His brothers? And in another, he is in a work apron with a man who looks just like him in front of a store that has a sign reading Mistletoe Hardware. By the fireplace there is a leather caddy filled with woodworking knives and whittling wood. I smile, thinking of Grandad. He would sit by the fire and carve spoons in the evening while Grandma embroidered and I read.
The furniture is masculine, and woodsy. But there is no Christmas tree set up or any indication that the holiday is only 25 days away. I walk down the small hall and find a bathroom with a river rock shower, and modern matte black fixtures. In the medicine cabinet there is beard oil and organic toothpaste. Nothing out of the ordinary. It’s neat, tidy, minimal.
Same with the bedroom. And while I wonder if he actually wants me here, I am relieved to see half the closet has been cleared out and the drawers in one of the two dressers are completely empty. I look over the bed, imagining coming in with Hartley. And while he might be reserved, I’d be lying if I said the idea of joining him in this bed tonight didn’t get me excited. He is so attractive… handsome and strong, a real man’s man… and I can only imagine the way it would feel to have his calloused hands on my naked body. My pussy gets wet at the thought and I force myself out of the bedroom before I get all worked up.
There is another room, mostly empty except for a few cardboard boxes, and there’s a ladder leading to a loft above the living room with a small desk and comfortable chairs. Nothing about his cabin gives off red flags, and for that I’m relieved. Still, I want to know who he is. Why he wanted me here. I want to know how I might fit into his life.
Though, smelling the chili on the stove, I know one way I can contribute — home-cooked meals. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten dinner from a can in my life.
The food is dished up in bowls by the time I return to the kitchen, and he asks if I’d like beer or wine. “Neither, thank you,” I say.
“You mind if I do?” He points to the beer in his hand.
“Oh no,” I say. “I don’t mind at all. I’m just starving and know if I drink anything before I eat, I might do something I’ll regret.”
He chuckles, sitting down at the table opposite me and picking up his spoon. “I thought you might already have regrets. Coming here to me and all.”
“I don’t regret this. At least not yet,” I say with a smile. He doesn’t laugh. Is he just nervous? “I would like to get to know you though. Why did you order a bride?”
He shrugs, taking a swig of his beer. “It wasn’t me who ordered you. It was my mother.”
“Your mother?” I frown, trying to digest this. “So you didn’t want me?”
He takes another bite of chili. “It wasn’t just you. She ordered six brides.”
My eyes go wide, panic in my voice. “She ordered you six wives? There are the other ones?”
He laughs. “No, she ordered a bride for each of her sons. I have five brothers.”
“Oh, I saw them in the family photo. At the Christmas tree.”
He nods. “Yea, my mom wants us to save the town and came up with an insane idea.” He goes on to explain his mother’s plan for her boys to save Snow Valley, how each brother needed a wife.
“And you all agreed to this?”
He shrugs. “What choice did we have?”
I swallow, suddenly not very hungry. He didn’t ask for me. Didn’t want me. I was thrust upon him. Tears fill my eyes.
“Don’t cry,” he says with a groan. “Fuck. Look, I couldn’t piss off my family. It’s not personal. Besides…” he shakes his head. “You’re way too good for me, Hattie. I can already tell. You’re, like, a Christmas card.”
“What does that even mean?” I ask, shaking my head.
“On the outside you’re a pretty picture, and inside you’re filled with sweet words. Only good stuff comes in the mail at Christmas. And you’re living proof of that.”
“If I’m such a perfect package, why do you sound so defeated?”
He runs a hand over his beard. “I’m not marriage material. You deserve better.”
His phone rings before I can respond. He answers it, frowning as he takes in the information from the other end. “Understood,” he says. “We’ll touch base tomorrow.”
He hangs up and shrugs. “Pastor Monroe can’t make it up to the cabin. The snow blocked him in.”
Tears fall down my cheeks. It’s December 1st. It was my one and only Christmas wish to get married today. But how can I explain that to the man who just told me he never wanted me in the first place?
Chapter Five
Hartley
Well I’ve really gone and done it now.
My bride-to-be is sitting in a puddle of tears after I just clearly said every last thing wrong.
I thought honesty was the best policy — and my words were true. I am not good enough for her. This sweetheart, who walked around my man-cave of a cabin touching things tenderly, taking it all in as if it mattered. As if I matter. She didn’t kiss over canned chili or judge me for drinking. She took off her coat once the cabin warmed up and is all curves, but covered in a layer of tenderness — a cream-colored sweater, a string of pearls. Corduroy pants in dark red that hug her ass. Everything about her is soft. And it makes my calloused heart seem even less appropriate for a woman like her.
But now she is crying, and I don’t have experience fixing things when it comes to women’s emotions. According to the girls in town, I haven’t exactly treated them with care.
“So I’m guessing my brutally honest approach upset you?”
She wipes her eyes, sniffling. “That’s the most you’ve said to me since I got here.”
I run a hand through my hair, considering how to answer.
Before I can, she keeps talking. “But it isn’t the honesty that’s the issue. The fact you didn’t ask for me, that I can work worth. I can make myself indispensable to you, Hartley. I know I can.”
“Then why are you so upset?”
Her shoulders shake and she begins to sob into her hands. This is all new territory and I hesitate — but only for a moment. I remember my mother’s words out in front of the hardware store this evening: You don’t tend to share your emotions, Hartley. And this stranger is going need you to communicate.
&
nbsp; I get out of my chair, and pull hers out too. I take her hands. Trying to be a goddamn man. The man she needs. Because I may be in all-new territory, but so is this little thing. She’s in a new place, with a man she doesn’t know, and there isn’t a soul around she can count on besides me.
“Hey, it’s okay,” I tell her. “I got you.” I lead her to the living room, and sit her down on the couch. “You wanna talk about it?”
“You wanna talk?” She smiles through her tears, and I hand her a tissue.
“My parent have been married nearly forty years. I’ve watched my dad handle my mom when she’s upset. He gives her a shoulder to cry on, and an ear to listen. I want to do the same for you. Now.”
“Forty years?” She wipes her eyes and she sits back in the couch, bending her knees up under her. “My grandparents were married for sixty.”
“They were?”
She nods. “They passed away this year. They raised me, and I always lived with them. I wasn’t able to keep their farmhouse and didn’t have many options. I felt so alone… so that’s why… well, that’s why I’m here, Hartley. I didn’t want to spend Christmas all by myself in some motel… I wanted a family.”
Her words send a jolt of longing through me. I sat at the table telling her I didn’t even want a wife, and here she is spilling her guts, telling me that I am her last hope.
“You know, when I told you why you were brought here, I was kind of an ass. Because I only thought about myself. Not what might be bringing a woman to meet and marry a man she’s never met. I’m guessing it’s not usually under happy circumstances.”
She exhales, taking my hand. “But I was happy to have this chance,” she says. “And I know I mentioned signs earlier, but when Holly told me I’d be coming here and marrying you on December first, I saw it as another sign.”
“How so?”
She looks at me with bright eyes, and a wide-open heart. “My parents — they died when I was a baby, but they married on December 1st, and so did Grandma and Grandad, some thirty years earlier. So it felt like destiny. Like maybe you were the way out of a really dark time.”
My chest tightens as I realize why she was crying so hard when I got off the phone. “You wanted to marry me today, specifically. Didn’t you?”
She nods, a tear falling down her cheek. “I wanted this to feel like fate. Marrying you like this meant giving up so many of my dreams for a picture-perfect wedding… but I thought maybe, just maybe, it would be okay. That you would meet me and want me. That I wouldn’t just be a crazy idea that your mom had. But that I might be a crazy idea that was also your dream come true.”
“Fuck, Hattie,” I say, drawing her to me. “I want that. I want you.” I pull her to my chest, tipping up her chin. She is fucking gorgeous and doesn’t seem to have a clue. My cock can’t stop twitching because she’s all I fucking want.
“You mean it?” she asks, her words a whisper.
“I do.”
She smiles. “I do too.”
“With that pair of I do’s it sounds like we just got hitched,” I say with a side smile.
“Stop it,” she laughs through her emotions. “I thought you were supposed to be this grumpy mountain man. Now you go and start acting all sweet?”
“I want to make you happy,” I tell her. “You deserve that.”
“And what do you deserve, Hartley?” she asks. It’s a question I’ve never gotten in my whole damn life.
“I know I sure as hell don’t deserve a woman like you.”
She licks her lips, crawling up in my lap and wrapping her arms around my neck. She fits here so damn well. So damn right.
The air shifts between us, the heat rising, the need for her growing. I know she feels it too, and she lets out the tiniest of whimpers to let me know she is right here, in this moment with me.
“But if you did?” she asks. “What if we both deserve what we got?”
“Then I wouldn’t waste our wedding night,” I tell her.
“Is that what we’re calling this?” she asks as I lift her from the couch to take her to my bed.
“Yes,” I tell her. “And right now, I’m carrying you over the threshold.”
Chapter Six
Hattie
I must admit, I did not expect my connection with Hartley to flip so fast… but now that we are in his bedroom, his hand on my hips and our eyes locked… I want to give us a chance. I want this to work.
And as crazy as it sounds, considering I just met this man, I think he wants it to work too.
“I’m in no rush,” he tells me, his thumb brushing against my cheek. “We can stop any time you like.”
“I don’t want to stop,” I tell him. “I want to go all in. With you.”
He leans down and kisses me then. A kiss I will never forget in all my life… because when he kisses me, I feel it. A deep in your bones, I’m forever changed after spending my life dreaming of feeling this way, kiss.
A kiss that has me kissing him back, with fervor and need. My entire body heats up as his hand holds the base of my neck, drawing me ever so slightly closer. Our lips part and his tongue slips against mine, and I let out the smallest moan — but a moan nonetheless. A moan that says, yes, please. That says, don’t stop. A moan that says, more.
He understands the sound I make because he lifts my sweater by the hem, and draws it off my body. My bra is pure white, and so are my panties. I push down my pants, wanting him to see me. All of me. I am giving myself to this man I just met and I have never felt more confident.
“Fuck,” he groans.
“You have to give me more than that,” I tell him. “I’ve never been with a man before.” He gives me a half smile, a dimple in his right cheek, and I swear he fights back tears. “What?” I ask, knowing how insecure I must sound.
“Fuck, Hattie. You’re so innocent, so good. A virgin on my doorstep and I said it before but I’ll say it again. I don’t deser—”
I press my hand against his mouth. “Stop. I’m not perfect either. I haven’t dated but it’s because I spent my life keeping myself safe in the smallest circle possible. Not wanting to love and lose. Not wanting to get hurt. But guess what, Hartley? I still got hurt. I still lost. I’m done playing it safe. I want to dive in, head-first. And you may be a bad boy or whatever, a man who doesn’t know how to put words to how he feels, but so what? You don’t get to win the contest on baggage. You have a mother who loves you and brothers wo are as crazy about her as you are. A father who loves your mom. You might be a total asshole for all I know — but you have a family. And you’re willing to give us a shot — and that’s all I want. It’s all I want for Christmas.”
He draws me to him. His cock is hard against my belly and he presses his forehead to mine. “How the hell am I supposed to top that speech?”
I laugh, gasping at my vulnerability and the fact this man is not scared of it. He is here, holding me. Looking at me like I am a treasure.
“I want to make all your Christmas wishes come true, Hattie. I want to make you a Mistletoe. I want to be a better man. Your man. I don’t know how the fuck to do it, but I swear to you, Cookie, I’ll try.”
I close my eyes as he kisses me again, this time with a deeper intensity, a raw need that nearly consumes me. He undresses quickly, taking me to bed, lying me on my back and gazing down at me. He unhooks my bra and I feel exposed, but also… somehow, delightfully, beautiful.
He cups my breast, kissing it gently. “You’re perfect,” he whispers. “So damn perfect.”
“I have plenty of flaws,” I say as he teases down my panties, groaning as he takes me in.
“Look at your red hair.” He leans down, spreading my knees. “Your pussy is so fucking ripe.”
I swallow. “I’m so wet… for you.”
“I see that,” he says, leaning down and running his tongue over me. “And sweet. So damn sweet.”
My toes curl as he blows warm air against me, as he spreads my pussy and licks me up and down. I
bite my knuckles because the pleasure is so immediate, so utterly delicious.
“Oh, god,” I cry. “Oh god, Hartley… that’s… oh…”
He looks up at me, grinning. “Good to know that my bride likes her pussy licked.”
I let out a small laugh, laced with desire, as he goes back down, adding a finger, then another, until I am all-out begging for more. My knees buckle as he fingers me, my pussy opening for him, wet and juicy, and we both seem to love it.
“You’re fucking dripping for me, Hattie.”
“Is that okay?” I pant.
“It’s fucking hot as hell. But I’m gonna add another finger, you know why?”
“Why?” I moan.
“I want to see if my wife can gush.”
I close my eyes as he fingers me nice and deep, opening me up and making me his. The sound of my juice squirting on his hand gets me so hot, and I want to come harder for him. Answer his question. Gush like my body was made for him and him alone.
It’s so intense, the orgasm that rolls over me, and I’m doing more than crying out — the sounds coming from me are wild and desperate. Primal and passionate.
“Oh god,” I scream, my legs wrapping around his face as he sucks my clit, as he licks hard, his beard tickling me and sending tingles of desire rippling through my body.
I catch my breath as he lowers my legs, leaning over me and kissing me hard on the mouth.
“You are divine,” he tells me. “So damn divine.”
My breath is shallow as I try to focus. Everything about this night has been topsy-turvy, but somehow it feels so right.
But I can’t help but wonder if this feeling of euphoria will last through the night.
Chapter Seven
Hartley
Being in bed with Hattie is like being next to a perfect pillow. Soft, smelling so good, feeling so right tucked against me.
And that’s no exaggeration. Hattie feels like home in a way I didn’t realize was possible. We’ve only just met, and we didn’t start off on the best footing. And then she was in a puddle of tears… she’s in a puddle now too, but that’s just her juicy release.
