Mistletoe Kisses

by Anna B. Doe

We haven’t picked a tree yet, not that there’s much to choose from at this time of year. I frown and am about to demand he explain what the hurry is when Jody gasps and I spin around to follow her line of sight, but I don’t need to.

  I hear it.

  The stuttered pattering of feet. The gobble-gobble sound. A turkey.

  “Run!” Colt reaches for both mine and Jody’s hands and drags us away from the angry turkey.

  Gobble-gobble.

  “Colt!”

  Was it following us?

  We push through the small crowd of people and head toward the parking lot where Mr James is swinging the truck around to a stop.

  Gobble-gobble.

  “Get in,” he calls, shoving open the passenger side door like some hero in an action movie.

  Jody and I dive for the car as an incredible sense a déjà vu washes over me.

  Gobble-gobble.

  I turn back with a sigh, knowing what I’ll find. Colt’s on the ground wrestling with the turkey. “Little help?”

  “You liberated the turkeys, didn’t you?” I crouch down and help him with the turkey. The little bastard weighed a ton. It took all our strength to pick lift it and throw it in the back of the truck.

  Colt grinned sheepishly at me. “How could I possibly look Clyde and Jordan in the eye if I went home without saving the turkeys? They’d hate me.”

  He makes it out like he’s some kind of avian savior when in reality he’s the biggest consumer of fried poultry I’ve ever known.

  I open my mouth to speak, but Colt holds up his hand to stop me when another turkey comes running toward us. They move fast. Again, I help him heave this one into the back of the car because I know what he’s going to say.

  “Turkeys need friends too.”

  Shoving him aside, I climb into the front seat beside Jody. No way am I sitting on the small bench seat with Colt and two giant birds. Once Colt is in, Mr James peels out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell, chortling at the situation.

  “Woo! Haven’t done anything that reckless in years,” he laughs.

  “Welcome to my life.”

  Gobble-gobble.

  “What are we going to name them Em?”

  “What?”

  “The turkeys? They need names.”

  “We can’t keep them.”

  “Why not?”

  “We have no room for them. They can’t live on the balcony with the chickens.”

  “I can’t liberate them and leave them orphans Em. What kind of monster do you think I am?” he says before whispering to the turkeys. “It’s okay, little birds. I’ll keep you safe.”

  I glance over my shoulder at him to find him sitting in the middle of the two turkeys. Arms slung over the both of them and their heads nuzzling his. I screw my nose up and shake my head.

  “You had a turkey sub for lunch yesterday. And chicken for dinner. You eat them.”

  Colt gasps and presses his hands to the sides of the turkey's heads as though he’s covering their ears. “Watch your mouth.”

  “We’ll discuss this later,” I tell him, but I’m fully aware that I will give in and let him keep them. Somewhere. They can not live in the apartment with us. It’s bad enough that we have to take the chickens for walks two or three times a day. I do not want to come home from work to find Colt in the bath with a turkey.

  Chapter Four

  Colt

  Impulse control is a real problem. I didn’t think it through and now I have two jealous chickens staring down two turkeys five times their size. Sussing them out. I swear Clyde scratches his claw on the floor, back and forth like he’s preparing to charge.

  It’s going to be a Christmas massacre. Not a miracle.

  Oops.

  “Maybe we should put the turkeys in the garage,” dad says, eyeing them as they strut around the living room giving Clyde and Jordan evil stares.

  Are turkeys evil?

  Did I unintentionally bring monsters into the house?

  “Can they survive out there? I didn’t save them just to let them freeze to death.”

  “If you don’t, Jody and Em might be preparing chicken for Christmas dinner.”

  “Good point.”

  I step into the kitchen and make my way over to Em. She’s peeling potatoes and helping Jody prepare food. Squeezing her hip, I lean in and press a kiss to her cheek. “Dad and I are going to fix the garage for the turkeys.”

  She turns her face to mine and smiles at me. “Okay.”

  I press my lips to hers and she sighs. Angling her body closer to mine, she drops the knife she’s using to peel the vegetables to the counter with a clatter and winds her fingers through my hair.

  I push into her until back she’s pressed against the bench, my hands digging into her hips as I explore her mouth with my tongue, until... “Ahem,” dad clears his throat loudly, interrupting us.

  I pull back breathing hard and press my forehead to hers, chuckling as she whispers, “Oh, my god. So embarrassing.”

  Em slaps my chest, making me laugh harder. I wrap my arms around her, hugging her tight and press a kiss to the top of her head. “We’ll finish this later.”

  Releasing her, I turn to face dad. He’s smiling and trying to hold back his laugh. “Let’s go, old man,” I say, patting his shoulder as I pass him.

  “Timber!” I call as the tree falls. Why do they shout that when a tree is falling? It’s not like we don’t know trees are made of timber? Why not shout tree? Or look out? Hell, screaming out duck would make more sense than timber. People said stupid shit sometimes.

  “Think the girls will forgive us when we bring this in?” Dad asks, toeing the fallen tree. After we set the turkeys up in the garage, he decided it was a good idea to find a Christmas since our mini crime spree put a stop to us going back to the market.

  I shrug, tapping my hands on my legs. “A tree’s not really my style of apologizing but yeah this should smooth things over.”

  I lean down and grip the trunk, while dad grasps the top. We stumble and slide in the snow, tripping on ice-covered rocks, and broken branches as we make our way back to the cabin.

  It takes us a few attempts to fit the tree through the door, but we eventually drag it inside and into the corner of the living room by the fire.

  “Wow!” Jody says, clapping her hands together once as she comes to stand next to dad. “It’s beautiful.”

  Dad wraps his arm around her and squeezes her shoulder. “Well, I did my part. You ladies to can decorate it. I’m taking Colt for a beer.”

  Em winces. I rub my hands up and down her arms, comforting and reassuring her. She doesn’t like alcohol. I rarely drink, if ever because of it. “One drink. I promise.”

  She nods and tilts her face up to mine. I press my lips to hers and it takes all my strength not to shove my tongue down her throat and strip her naked.

  “Be safe,” she whispers, squeezing my hand as I step back.

  “Always.” I grab my ball from the floor by the door and follow dad out to the truck.

  The bar in town is quiet, the soft murmurs of three people playing pool in the corner and Christmas songs crackling over the outdated speaker system. It’s dark and smells of stale beer and peanuts. With the basketball resting on my hip, held in place by my left hand, I follow dad to a table in the corner.

  He signals to the bartender who brings over two beers.

  “You didn’t order anything?”

  Dad rubs a hand over his face and chuckles. “They only have one beer on tap.”

  I lift the beer to my lips and take a sip of the cold, bitter ale. It’s refreshing as it goes down my throat.

  “So, you and Em?” Dad throws out casually.

  I press my lips together and nod. “Yep.”

  “You happy?”

  “Yep.”

  “You being careful?”

  I nod.

  “Look, son. I don’t want to get all dad on you but...”

  I wince. I didn’t need thi
s talk. Not now. Not ever. “Dad, it’s fine. We’re good.”

  He shakes his head. “You know I love that girl like she’s my own daughter,” he says.

  I screw my nose up and gag. “That’s gross considering what I do to her every night.”

  “Colt...”

  “And morning.” I shrug. “Sometimes during the day too.” What I plan on doing to her later.

  “Colt!” Dad holds up his hand to stop me from speaking and I realize what I’m saying and to who.

  I wince. “Sorry. Don’t tell Em. She’ll kill me.”

  Dad throws his head back and laughs. “I won’t. I remember being your age once. Your mother and 1...”

  I plug my fingers in my ears and squeeze my eyes shut. “La, la, la, la.”

  Peeling an eye open, I check to see my dad’s stopped speaking. Thinking about him and mom like that is not something I want to do.

  Gross.

  I shudder.

  “What I’m trying to say is, take things slow. It doesn't hurt to be cautious.”

  “Slow?” I bark out a laugh. “We’ve taken things slow for ten years.”

  “You both revolve around each other. You’re co-dependent to the point I’m not sure it’s healthy. And it’s partly my fault. I let it happen because she was good for you. And you, you saved that poor girl time and time again. I guess I just don’t want to see either of you get hurt if this spirals sideways.”

  “I love her. Always have. Always will.” I tell him, trying to convince him that everything is going to be okay. Things won’t spiral sideways. We need each other too much.

  “That’s what scares me,” he says, taking a gulp of his beer and shaking off whatever else he planned to say. “So tell me about the team?”

  I sat a little straighter and grinned. “I was approached by a scout.”

  “You’re kidding? When? Bit soon for that, isn’t it?”

  “Last game. He wants to fly me out after Christmas to discuss things more.”

  “Where?”

  “New York.”

  “That’s incredible. I’m proud of you.”

  I give him a half-hearted smile. All I’ve ever wanted was to make him proud, and here I am about to tell him I’m not sure I want it. “I don’t know if I want to go.”

  He frowns. Playing with his bottle of beer for a moment, sliding it from one hand to the other, he’s quiet and pensive. “Because of Em?”

  No.

  Maybe.

  Yes.

  Fuck.

  I don’t have to say anything because he knows.

  “I can’t tell you what to do. I can only tell you to think it through. Explore your options, and if it truly feels right you’ll know. I want what’s best for you and so does Em. Trust your gut.”

  “I can’t leave her behind.”

  “Then don’t. It’s your final year. If they really want you, which I’m guessing they do, since they approached you this early, then they’ll wait until you finish school.”

  “That’s what I’m counting on.”

  Chapter Five

  Em

  By the time Colt and Mr James returned to the cabin, Jody and I had cooked dinner and dressed the tree.

  Now we were sitting by the fire enjoying eggnog. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I didn’t like alcohol when she poured me a glass. But, if you’re not safe drinking with the people who love you most, you’ll never be.

  My feet were in Colt’s lap, and he was rubbing them gently. His eyes were closed and his head tipped back against the cushions. Jody and Mr James were sitting together, reading the paper.

  I sighed. Content. Happy. This was the best Christmas I’d ever experienced. Thoughts of my parents never crossed my mind. Every year their presence taints the magic that the holiday brings. This year? Nothing. It couldn’t be more perfect.

  Mr James yawned and stretched his arms above his head. “Well, that’s my cue.” He shoves to his feet and claps Colt on the shoulder before leaning down and dropping a kiss to the top my head.

  “Don’t stay up too late, you two,” he says and turns back to Jody, reaching out his hands for her take.

  She smiles at him and threads her fingers through his before looking at me. “Thanks for your help today.”

  “Any time,” I say. “Night.”

  After they’ve gone to bed, I get up to stoke the fire and change the music. Christmas' songs get tiresome after a while.

  Warmth from Colt’s body floods me. His chest presses into my back, and it takes all my strength not to lean back into him. I know what he wants. What he’s expecting. I want it too. But his dad is right there, in the next room.

  I sigh and let my eyes drift closed. His scent surrounds me, the heat from his body warming me through.

  Grrr.

  Why does he have to be so perfect all the time? My resolves.

  No.

  I won’t fall for it. I won’t succumb to his touch, no matter how good it feels. I will resist.

  But he’s so warm, and perfect, and his body fits against mine like it’s made for me. It’s Christmas and he’s all I’ve ever wanted, in one way or another.

  His breath on my skin, the taste of his lips, his tongue…

  I groan.

  Maybe moan as he presses his lips to my neck, licking and sucking the sensitive skin.

  All I can think about is his hot, sweaty skin, moving against mine. The way his weight above me is just right. How my body erupts in goosebumps at his touch, responds to his, craves his. All the time.

  I need more.

  He stands behind me, his hands resting delicately on my hips.

  “Dance with me?”

  My knees buckle, give way under my weight and shot of alcohol in my eggnog. But Colt catches me, his arm wrapping around my waist and pulling me tight against his body.

  I can’t help the shiver that runs up my spine or the sigh slips past my lips as we sway together, hips moving slowly, in sync.

  The scruff on his face grazes my cheek as he leans closer to mine, dropping his head to my shoulder.

  His thumbs brush my lower stomach as his tongue traces the curve of my shoulder.

  I combust on the spot.

  Panties melt.

  Ovaries explode.

  I’m done for. Giving in to temptation like the ball bitch he turned me into.

  He was destroying me in the slowest, sweetest way. His fingers graze my stomach in search of my hand, before grasping my wrist and tugging until I spin on the spot and face him.

  Cupping my face, he smirks before leaning in and licking my bottom lip. One brush of his tongue and I become hungry for more. My hands slide into his hair as my lips part. My entire body is pressed against his and it’s still not enough. It’s never enough.

  Not enough of his kisses.

  He’s still torturing me with the slow circular movements of his hips, pressing against me and making me hotter and more needy.

  His fingers slide around my waist, gripping the hem of my shirt, and he makes to pull it off, but I stop him. “Not here,” I whisper against his lips, entwining his fingers with mine and leading him down the hall to our room.

  I barely have the door closed before he’s yanking my shirt over my head and tugging on my jeans. His teeth nip my neck while his hands wrestle with the button on my jeans, before sliding them down my legs.

  I kick them off and reach for his shirt, unbuttoning it as he yanks his pants down. Pulling him back to me, our mouths move together, lips sliding, tongues tangling, teeth clashing.

  Colt's deft fingers unclasp my bra in record time. I push his boxers down and discard them with the rest of our clothes. He pulls me close, swaying to the music we can longer hear and dips me. And hell if that isn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever experienced. When did he learn that move?

  In one swift move, he lifts me into his arms and lowers me gently on the bed.

  I smile a lazy smile at him and stretch my hands out for him. He was too far away
.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “Watching you,” he says, his voice deep, thick with desire.

  “Making naked snow angels on your rug.”

  “Why?”

  “I like you naked.”

  “I’m not naked,” I smirk.

  “Like fuck,” he growls low in his throat as I stretch out my body.

  Dropping to his knees in front of me on the bed, his fingers slide into my panties and pull them down, discarding them with the rest of our clothes.

  “Now you’re naked.” He smirks, trailing his hands up my legs. Massaging my calves, my knees, my thighs. His thumbs moving in slow circles, getting closer and closer to where I need him, want him most. His thumbs brush over my center, making my body arch into his touch.

  I bite my lip to stifle a moan, my fingers digging into his hair.

  “Colt,” I whisper, desperate for more. I tug on his hair, attempting to bring his mouth up to mine. “Kiss me.”

  He smirks lowers his lips to my stomach, peppering kisses up my body until his mouth, hot and needy covered my nipple. His tongue dips and swirls, torturing me slowly. It’s excruciating. I need to feel more. I need his hands, his body, his tongue...him. Everywhere. But I know he’s going to drag it out, make me beg. It’s what he does best. Torture is favorite form of foreplay.

  But not today. Not tonight. Steeling my resolve, I shove him hard in his chest, pushing him off me so he falls on his back beside me. Sitting up and rolling over, I straddle his waist before he can say anything or do anything to stop me.

  Biting my lips, I scratch my nails down his chest and grind my hips against his. Colt curses as his eyes roll back in his head. He licks his bottom lip and lifts his hands, sliding them up my body, cupping my breasts. I moan, leaning into him, reveling in his touch and the feel of him beneath me.

  “Em,” he groans, squeezing a little harder, thrusting his hips, rubbing himself between my legs. I lick my lips, lifting slightly, reaching for him and positioning him right where I need him.

  Sinking onto him, I groan as he fills and stretches me, my head tipping back in pure unadulterated pleasure.

  “Fuck. So good,” Colt curses, his fingers digging painfully into my hips, and he thrusts into me, pounding over and over.