“They were bootleggers once, and have since had trouble kicking their less than law abiding ways. But they make damn good beer,” Dad explains, taking another sip from his foamy glass.
“How is Franklin doing?” Mom asks, full of motherly concern.
“Does he still have those feral cats with their claws in him?” Dad asks, smiling and shaking his head.
“What?” June asks, confused by Dad’s homegrown euphemisms.
“That’s Dad’s nice way of saying, crazy pussy,” I say, making June giggle.
“Tom Allen,” Mom admonishes.
“Little ears,” Karen adds in her best mom voice.
“Sorry. I’m just talking about cats,” I say innocently.
“I wuv cats.” Matt smiles, nodding his head.
“No. We wuv Tumper,” Jack argues back, the quietly dominate one of the pair.
“You can love both Thumper and cats,” Karen says, stopping the coming argument.
“Frank is good. He’s dating some professor from the college,” Peter says, taking a gravy-laden bite of his pie.
“Oh, that’s nice to hear,” Mom says, then over glass of wine she asks coyly, “Pete, when is Nina due?”
Groaning Peter replies, “Mom, you know I can’t tell you anything. I really shouldn’t even admit she’s my patient.” This is clearly not the first time she’s tried to get information out of him.
“Aaron said sometime in February. He’s hoping for Valentine’s Day,” I say, giving her what she wants.
“Thank you, Tommy.”
“Is Aaron still into the tie me up and spank me sh-tuff,” Dad asks, attempting to be mindful of his language.
Leaning over towards June, I explain, “Aaron is the manager of Royal’s Pub and Nina is his very pregnant wife.”
“He was panked?” Matt asks, his blue eyes wide with horror.
“Was be berry bad?” Jack asks, expression matching his brother’s.
Peter and Karen never use spanking as a form of punishment, but instead employ the ‘think about what you’ve done’ timeout. So for Matt and Jack, spanking was unthinkable, and reserved for the worst of the worst offences.
“Little ears,” Karen says, exasperatedly.
“What did I say?” Dad asks, looking genuinely confused.
“It’s about the subject matter Dad.” Peter answers, trying to suppress a laugh.
“I think he prefers to be the one doing the spanking,” I chuckle.
“Tom!” Karen cries out, annoyed.
“I hope they aren’t engaging in those… activities now!” Mom states, shocked by the topic of conversation.
Looking over, I can see June suppressing her laughter, which makes mine bubble up to the surface all the more. In an effort to control myself, I concentrate on finishing what little food I have left on plate.
“June, have you had a chance to go into downtown Pinetree?” Karen asks, turning back from where she’d been encouraging Jack to finish his dinner, with promises of dessert.
“No. Where is it?”
“It’s the next town over. Only about five or ten minutes away,” I answer her.
“It’s a lot like downtown Middlebury with boutiques, galleries, and coffee shops,” Karen says. “We could go tomorrow if you’d like. I doubt Tom would want to window shop.”
No thank you, especially not in the cold!
“I’d like that. Sounds like fun,” June says brightly, making me happy that she’s befriended Karen. She fits in so effortlessly with my family.
Like she’s meant to be here with us.
By now Dad has emptied his plate, and begins to clear the dishes from the table.
“Here, let me help you.” June says, standing up and holding her empty plate.
“You sit down, June Bug. I’ll take them.” I say, grabbing my own plate and taking hers.
“In this family, the girls cook and the boys clean up,” Dad explains, smiling at her.
“That sounds very democratic,” she says with a smile, returning to her seat.
“It’s just smart. Us boys would starve without you girls,” Peter says, standing and beginning to clear the dishes and encouraging his sons to take their own plates into the kitchen.
You can never start training them too early.
“Do you cook, Sweetheart?” Dad asks June.
“A little,” she answers. Looking up at me and smiling playfully asks, “Tom, what do you do when you’re not home?”
“Two words. Take out,” I say, moving to take several empty plates and cups into the kitchen with June’s laughter following me.
Between the three of us, we’re able to clear the table and clean the kitchen rather quickly. Starting the dishwasher, wiping down the counters, storing the leftovers in the fridge – not that there were many – and taking out the garbage. While we slave away, the ladies sit comfortably, finishing their drinks and nibbling on the chocolates June brought. We will eat dessert later, once we’ve relaxed and digested our meal.
After finishing up in the kitchen, I walk into the dinning room and notice that June isn’t sitting at the table with Mom and Karen.
“Where’s June?”
“She’s in the hall bathroom, Sweetheart. You might want go check on her,” Mom says, sounding concerned.
“She seemed upset,” Karen pipes in.
“Why? What happened?”
“I think it was the truffles,” Karen explains cryptically.
“The truffles?” I parrot back, confused.
“They were her mother’s favorite,” Mom replies softly.
“She’s not crying. Is she?”
God, I hope not.
“Not that I know of,” Karen says, giving me a funny look.
“Good. Okay. Right.” I turn to make my way slowly towards the bathroom. I really hope she’s not crying. It nearly killed me when she started tearing up yesterday. I felt utterly and completely helpless.
Okay, I can do this.
I knock tentatively on the bathroom door.
“Be out in a minute,” June’s nasally voice comes through the door, sounding as if she has suddenly come down with a head cold. Or worse, has been crying.
“It’s just me, June Bug. Open up.” I encourage gently, not wanting to make her more upset.
The door opens slowly and June’s watery eyes stare out at me through the crack. Damn. I push my way into the small room, shutting the door and locking out the rest of the world.
“Are you having a good day, baby?” I ask softly, pulling her into my arms and letting her headrest on my shoulder.
I should ask her if she’s upset, but that will probably make things worse. Any idiot could tell she’s been crying.
“I’m having a great day... Your family is great, but… I’m just missing mine,” she says, sniffling.
Pushing her away slightly, I reach around her to put down the lid on the toilet and then take a seat, pulling my girl into my lap.
“I’m sorry, baby.” I can feel her body begin to shake with gentle sobs. “Shh… Don’t cry. I don’t like it when my June Bug cries.”
I hold her tightly against me and rub her back in what I hope is a soothing motion. There is nothing I can do to make her feel better. I feel utterly helpless.
I can’t, I don’t want to, imagine not having my family.
After several minutes, her crying subsides and she sits in silence, snuggling into my arms.
“Are you ready to go veg out and digest before dessert?” I ask, pushing back to look into her red watery eyes. She nods her head yes, though her face is still covered in sadness.
The sudden urge to kiss away her pain comes over me. Cupping the back of her head, I bring our lips together, slowly. Moving, teasing, and caressing her mouth with my own, I struggle to reign in my desire, wanting my assault to be only about comfort. Leaving her swollen lips, I move to leave a trail of kisses on her face. Erasing all her tears.
Once June has collected herself, washed her face wit
h cold water and grumbled that I’ve ruined her lipstick, we leave the bathroom to join the rest of the family.
Just as we’re walk into the living room, Dad is entering from the dinning room. “Are you ready to watch the only Christmas movie worth watching?” he asks June, giving her a smile.
“Which one would that be?”
“A White Christmas.”
“That’s my favorite!” June exclaims, suddenly beaming brightly, with all traces of sadness seemingly gone.
“Welcome to the family, Sweetheart,” Dad wraps his arm around her shoulders in a one-armed hug. “I knew you’d fit right in.”
Soon we are all settled comfortably in the living room, ready to relax and digest our dinner before dessert. June and I sit cuddled up in one corner of couch, while Mom and Dad occupy the other. Peter and Karen are squished together in his new recliner. She had surprised him with it as an early Christmas present. The boys are on the floor in front of the TV, playing with the new building blocks that Santa had given them.
Halfway through the film, right around the time Bing Crosby is falling in love, Mom gets up from her place saying, “I’ll go start getting dessert ready.”
“Can I help?” June asks politely, trying to wiggle out of my hold.
Don’t leave. I’m comfortable.
“No, you just stay and enjoy the film.”
Mom soon returns and while the film’s final musical number is wishing us a white Christmas, we are enjoying pieces of pumpkin pie, topped with homemade whipped cream.
Not long after, the twins are reluctantly tucked into bed and it’s finally the adults’ turn to open presents. We head into the family room where the huge, brightly lit Christmas tree stands in front of the window. Two generations of homemade ornaments hang from its branches, along with sparkling silver tinsel.
“June Bug, you can help me open mine?” I ask, pulling her down onto the floor with me in my traditional spot on the left side of the tree. Every year, since I can remember, I’ve sat in this very spot and opened the presents Santa has brought me. Peter sits on the other side, and our parents sit opposite us on the couch. Karen’s place is now next to Peter.
“Wow, June. Tommy must really like you, if he’s letting you near his presents,” Peter teases.
“There’s one for June under there somewhere,” Mom says, taking her seat next to several poorly wrapped presents.
“Really?” June asks surprised, looking through my pile of expertly wrapped packages and finds a gift bag with her name on it.
“It’s just a little something,” Mom says.
“Thank you so much,” June says, looking embarrassed and surprised by Mom’s kindness.
“Your welcome,” Mom says. “Go on, you kids start.”
Reaching for my stocking, I watch as June carefully pulls the tissue paper out of the bag and slowly unwraps several jars of homemade jams and a plastic bear shaped container filled with honey.
“Did you make these?” June asks excitedly. “They look delicious.”
“Yes, Karen and I canned those last summer,” Mom says, pulling things out of her own stocking. “If you don’t want to bring them on the plane with you, I’m sure Tommy wouldn’t mind driving them back.”
“Thank you so much.” June looks oddly emotional, and I find myself instinctively reaching out, rubbing my hand along her back.
“You’re driving home?”
“I’m taking Thumper and my parent’s car back down for them. So all they’ll have to do is fly,” I explain.
“That’s awfully nice of you.”
“I’m a nice guy,” I tease, and she smacks my chest playfully.
“Here you can open this,” I say, handing her a small, lumpy package that I had pulled out of my stocking along with a collection of bathroom products. The deodorant, shampoo, and body wash I prefer are all there, along with several of my favorite truffles. My Mom does love me!
“To Tom. Love Santa,” she reads the label laughing and looks at me weirdly.
“It’s from Mom.” No matter how old we’ve gotten, Mom has always addressed our presents from her and Dad as “from Santa”.
After tearing the package open, she starts giggling next to me and holds up a pair of white boxer briefs that have horses galloping across them.
“Mom!”
“These are great, Martha! Where did you find them?” she asks, holding them out of my reach.
“It’s amazing what you can find on the Internet these days, isn’t it?” Mom replies, beaming at her find. Turning to me she asks excitedly, “Do you like them?”
“Yeah. They’re great. Thanks,” I lie, smiling at her.
Does she really think I’ll wear them?
“Pete, why don’t you open yours,” Mom says excitedly, pointing to a similar package that’s lying on the floor next to him.
He tears off the paper and unfolds a pair of Teenage Mutant Ninja turtle boxers, holding them up for everyone to see. Karen and June begin giggling uncontrollably.
“I know you prefer boxers,” Mom says addressing Peter.
“Thanks Mom. They’re great.”
“You’re welcome Sweetheart.”
“Pete doesn’t need the support like I do,” I say quietly to June.
“I heard that, asshole. And I prefer boxers because boxer briefs are too tight,” Peter says, throwing a wad of wrapping paper at my head.
“What are you two talking about?” Mom asks, giving us a scrutinizing look. Her Mom sense must tingling; she always seems to know when we’re on the verge of an argument.
“Nothing.” We say in unison, returning to unwrapping our gifts.
“You didn’t get me anything silly like that, did you?” Dad asks, looking at his remaining packages cautiously.
“Why would I?” Mom asks confused. “You don’t wear underwear, Honey.”
June turns and hides her laughter into my shoulder as I busy myself opening my remaining pile of presents. A bag of homemade horse treats for Romeo, several containers of gourmet hot chocolate, new clothes, including several pairs of my favorite wool socks that are thin and fit perfectly in my work books, and a gift card to Home Depot. My big present this year was a new iPad. Although I have Wi-Fi throughout the house for my Smart TV, I don’t own a computer.
Peter’s big present was a nail gun, though I have no idea what he needs that for, and Karen unwrapped the new sewing machine she’d been eying. Peter and Mom had gotten into an argument over who was going to give it to her, and Peter ended up buying her a tennis bracelet.
Karen sure made out this year!
The fact that our parents are still spoiling us is not lost on me. Mom and Dad didn’t make out too poorly in the present department, either. Peter and I pooled our money, a lot of it, and bought them tickets for the Caribbean cruise they’ve been talking about going on for years.
Soon all of the presents have been opened, and it’s time for June and I to make our way back to the inn. After thank you’s, hugs, and promises to return tomorrow, we walk out into the cold darkness and load ourselves into the warm truck. Knowing it would be freezing, I had had the foresight to start it up before we were ready to leave.
We finally make it back to our – our – room at the inn. Once inside, I drop the grocery bags filled with presents and non-perishable leftovers, molasses cookies, by the door.
“I am so full. I don’t think I can move.” I say, flopping down onto the bed, letting my booted feet hang off the end.
“Really?” June asks mischievously. “I thought you might want to burn off some of those delicious calories with me, Cowboy.”
Raising myself onto my elbows I smile and ask, “What if I just lay here, and you mount up?”
“You want me to do all the work?” she asks, slowly walking towards the bed and beginning to strip off her many layers of clothing.
“No. But it’s a good opportunity for you to practice your riding skills,” I chuckle, watching enraptured as her hat, scarf, gloves, jack
et and boots quickly fall to the floor.
Stopping her advance, June pouts playfully, asking, “I thought I demonstrated how good a cowgirl I can be yesterday?”
“Oh you did,” I say, standing up and moving towards her. “But I think your mount needs more practice.”
Laughing, she traverses the space between us and starts unzipping my jacket, beginning to shed me of my clothing.
“However, they do say practice makes perfect. I might be willing to help you out.”
“That would be awfully nice of you,” she says, as I shrug out of my jacket and quickly pull off my sweater.
Reaching out, I help her slowly peel off her shirt, revealing her perfect breasts cupped in a sexy black lace bra.
Fuck. She’s gorgeous.
June gasps, as I grab the waistband of her jeans and pull her closer. I nibble on her lips, and her arms encircle my neck as I begin to quickly unzip her jeans. I groan when I feel her tugging my hair.
“Damn.” I say, pulling back. I struggle to push down her pants, which seem to be stuck onto her. She giggles and begins trying to wiggle out of them. Between the two of us, and no small amount of effort, we finally manage to strip them off of her.
Who knew there’d be a downside to tight jeans?
I quickly shed the rest of my clothes and join June where she’s lying on the bed, wearing only her black lace panties. Crawling over her body, I feel her shiver slightly and notice her skin is prickled with goose bumps.
“Let me light a fire. I don’t want my June Bug to get cold,” I say, jumping off the bed and making my way over to the fireplace, getting it started. “I want you nice and warm, during our ride.”
“Is that what they’re calling it now?” June laughs, and I feel something hit the back of my head. Turning, I notice the black lace panties on the floor behind me, and then I see that my beautiful girl is now kneeling on the bed.
Scrambling up, I quickly get onto the bed and tackle June with a plundering kiss. She wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me closer, and we soon become a tangle of limbs. I feel June’s moan against my lips as I suck my way down her neck, reaching the top of her prefect breasts.
Whispers of Winter: A Limited Edition Collection of Winter Romances Page 121
