by Rachel Grant
She leaned between the seats and kissed his cheek. “I don’t even know you. I hardly know what to say.”
“You’re going to be stuck with Negative Nate in a remote cabin. Try not to kill him. Or if you do, don’t stain the carpet. It’s a hefty deposit.”
She laughed.
Chase glanced at her ripped skirt. “You’ll need clothes too. There’s snow on the ground at the cabin.”
Josh drove them back to the park, and they jumped from the SUV without lingering. In moments, they were back on the road with Nate at the wheel and Josh following several blocks behind as they wound through surface streets before getting on the highway and heading southwest.
“Josh is watching pinch points to see if we’re being tailed. We can’t go shopping until we’re certain we’re clear. We’ll find a Target or something on the way, so we can get clothes and food.”
They spent twenty minutes driving in circles, then were cut free by Josh. No tail. She settled back in the seat as they took the on-ramp for 66. “That was really kind of Chase,” she said.
“Extremely generous considering he rented this place because his cabin burned down in October.”
“That’s awful!” And then she remembered all her belongings were probably ash and cinders, and she could guess why Chase hadn’t hesitated. “What happened?”
“It’s a long, ugly story and not mine to share beyond saying it was arson and no one was hurt. But someday maybe Chase will tell you.”
“You say that like you think we’re going to be friends after this.”
He gave her a sideways glance. She could just make out his soft expression in the glow of the dashboard lights. “I think that’s inevitable.”
Suddenly, she remembered their kiss. The very real kiss that had her wanting to drop her panties in the trees next to the townhouse.
She had plenty of sexual experience and couldn’t think of a single kiss that had affected her like that before. As Nate said, it had been inferno hot.
She wasn’t sure if “friends” was the right word to describe what they’d be when all this was over, but she hoped that was at least part of it.
Thirty miles from Arlington, they found a Target. It was nine p.m., one hour before closing. Her belly rumbled as they entered the grocery section of the store, and she realized she hadn’t eaten anything since the protein bar she’d had for lunch.
Tonight, she’d planned to have brisket and latkes. Knowing she wouldn’t be home until after the candlelight tour, she’d cooked the brisket last night while she worked on Peacemaker for HH. She immediately began gathering ingredients to make latkes and found a premade brisket. It would have to do.
Nate didn’t say anything as she added items to the cart, he just added his own selections—bread, milk, eggs, cheese, apples. She grabbed a premade chicken sandwich from the deli—a snack to tide them over on the drive—then, after grabbing toothbrushes, toothpaste, and other toiletries, they moved on to the clothing section, where she selected yoga pants and jeans and a few tops along with socks, underwear, and tennis shoes.
The only item she bothered to try on were the shoes, being careful to remove the boots without opening her coat and showing off the slit in the skirt. Nate grabbed a few items of clothing too, then they moved on to find hats and gloves for both of them. They were heading toward checkout when they passed the holiday section, and she stopped in her tracks.
As to be expected on the first night of Hanukkah, the shelf with menorahs and candles had been thoroughly picked over. The menorahs that remained were substandard. The shamash was the same height as the other eight holders. And the boxes of thirty-minute candles were down to the dregs. Through the plastic window, she could see broken candle after broken candle.
By the time they got to the cabin and she could light the menorah, it would be around eleven. So very late. But better late than never.
She grabbed a substandard menorah with the wrong shamash and put it in the cart along with three boxes of candles. Surely there’d be some whole ones in there. She looked up and met Nate’s gaze, remembering that he was paying for all this. “Do you mind?”
“Of course not.” He put another box of candles in the cart. “Do you need anything else?”
She looked at the bucket full of dreidels and the bags of chocolate gelt. She started to shake her head, but he smiled and put one of each in the cart.
They moved on, passing one of the many Christmas aisles, and it was his turn to pause. “We’ll probably be there for a few days.” He grabbed a knit red, white, and green stocking from a hook and put it in the cart.
“You should get one for Chase too. He said he’s coming Christmas Eve.”
“Good idea.” He grabbed a few bags of candy. “Gotta have something to put in them.” He then topped off the pile with a string of colored lights.
By the time they reached the cashier, the cart was quite full, but for someone who had lost everything in a matter of hours, she felt surprisingly light.
She’d seen her mother’s menorah in a house being consumed by fire. In an instant, she’d felt cut off from the past, cut off from her mother, as if her death happened yesterday and not a year ago, but with the simple act of purchasing a new menorah, she was reminded that as long as she carried on the traditions, she would always have a connection to the past, both to her mother and the ancestors who came before.
No one could take that from her.
They quickly loaded their purchases in the rear compartment of the SUV and were back on the road. They split the sandwich as Nate drove. When they were done eating, he asked her about possible reasons she’d been fired.
“I missed a deadline on Friday, but the captain overseeing my project told me it wasn’t a problem. He’s out until after Christmas anyway. And even if it were an issue, firing me is extreme. I’m baffled.” And then there had been the car that tried to run her down, and the burning townhouse.
None of it made sense.
She closed her eyes. She’d been feeling good after their retail therapy and wanted to forget, even if just for a few hours. “Tell me about Alaska. I’ve always wanted to visit.”
He launched into stories about forty-degrees-below cold, and her heart surged with affection for this stranger who understood her need to escape without her having to explain.
It felt like almost no time had passed by the time they navigated the twisty mountain road to the resort that rented out at least a dozen cabins. Each one was tucked in the woods and appeared secluded. Utterly private. Chase had called ahead to let the owners know of their late arrival, and they’d sent someone over to build a fire so the cabin wouldn’t be cold.
She felt a rush of bubbly heat as the headlights washed over the one-bedroom cabin she would share with the mysterious stranger who’d rescued her today. It was cozy. Picturesque. And with snow on the ground and smoke billowing from the chimney, utterly romantic.
They unloaded their purchases along with her FedEx box. Clothing and toiletries were unceremoniously dumped in the bedroom and groceries piled on the kitchen island.
Done with the repeat trips to the car, she peeled off her coat and hung it on the hook by the door. She still wore the ripped skirt and, when she caught the heat in Nate’s eyes as his gaze traveled up her boot to her bare thigh, she decided to keep it on while she made the latkes and heated up the brisket.
But before she could cook, she needed to light the menorah. She reassembled the picture frame from the FedEx box and put it next to the menorah on the table, glad to have a photo of her mother with her. After turning off the side-table lamps that flanked the living room window, she opened a box of candles and found two whole ones, then glanced over her shoulder to where Nate was adding a log to the fire. “Join me?” she asked.
He smiled. “I’d be honored.” He closed the grate and crossed to stand beside her. “I’ve never done this before.”
“You know the story, right? How the oil lasted for eight days?”
&
nbsp; “The basics, yes.”
“Tomorrow night, when we do this right—thirty minutes after sunset—I can tell you the whole thing. We’ll keep it simple tonight.”
She placed the first candle in the holder on the right end and the shamash in the center, then said the Hanukkah blessing. “Baruch atah, Adonai Eloheinu, Melech haolam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tsivanu l’hadlik ner shel Hanukkah.” She translated for Nate. “Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Sovereign of all, who hallows us with mitzvot, commanding us to kindle the Hanukkah lights.” Then she said the first night blessing and translated it as well, adding, “We only say that one on the first night of Hanukkah.”
She struck a match on the side of the box and caught the whiff of sulfur as the flame flared. She held the match to the shamash, then shook out the match and set it aside. She lifted the shamash from its holder and used it to light the first candle, replacing it in the center when done. She stepped back and looked at the teardrop flames and said, “Let’s put it in the window.”
She lifted the menorah by its heavy base and decided it wasn’t such a bad little menorah after all. The smell of melting wax, the flicker of flame, the spoken blessings that invoked the past—it was all that was needed to make any menorah special.
She set it in the front window and stepped back. Nate turned out the overhead lights in the adjacent kitchen, making the glow of the fire and the two small candles the only light in the connected rooms. He stood behind her, looking over her shoulder toward the candles in the window.
“My dad left when I was about five,” she said. “I was an only child, so it was just my mom and me growing up. She was pretty secular when it came to Judaism, but she always said the traditions are important. They connect us to our history. This is the first Hanukkah since Mom died last December.”
His arms surrounded her as he pulled her back to his chest, his muscled forearms crossed over her breastbone as he wrapped her in his warmth. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” She reached up and hooked her hands over his crossed arms, holding him in place, thankful for his encompassing embrace. “And thank you for being with me right now. I was dreading being alone when I lit the candles.”
His lips brushed her temple. “You can have me all eight nights.”
“You’re a good man, Negative Nate.”
He laughed. “I was wondering how long it would be before you brought that up.”
She wanted to stand like this forever, but she had latkes to make, so she pulled away, giving up his heat in exchange for getting to look at his face, which was, she confirmed, still incredibly handsome. She brushed her lips over his. “I’m going to demand the whole story over dinner.”
“It’s nothing.” He stroked her cheek, tucking her hair behind an ear. “I’m not feeling all that negative right now.”
“Well, that’s because I make the best latkes in the world.”
“Yeah. That’s the reason.”
She pulled away—reluctantly—and crossed to the small kitchen.
“How long do we leave the candles burning?”
“We can’t blow them out. They have to burn down. The candles are supposed to last thirty minutes. Bigger—longer-lasting—candles are only used on the last night.”
She set to work in the kitchen as Nate called Josh and Chase to give them an update. “Thank Chase profusely for me,” she said as she shredded the potatoes.
Nate explored the small cabin as he talked, disappearing into the bedroom, then she heard the sliding glass door open. He must be checking out the back deck.
He returned to the kitchen a few minutes later, phone tucked away. “Did you know this place has a hot tub?”
“Really?”
“After dinner, want to sit outside in the tub and look for shooting stars?”
She cocked her head. “I didn’t buy a suit.”
“Neither did I.” He grinned. “I’ll close my eyes coming and going.”
“Do I have to close my eyes too?”
He flexed his arms, showing off his impressive muscles. “Not if you don’t want to.”
She had no doubt that if she got into the tub with him, they’d have sex. Maybe not tonight—after all, she was exhausted and imagined he was too—but naked-hot-tub time was definitely foreplay.
She reminded herself that she’d been a good girl for the last year because she’d needed to pass—and maintain—the highest level of security clearance. She’d been prepared to behave for the full six months she’d expected to be working at the Navy Yard.
Now it was moot. There was no reason not to indulge.
Her earlier fears—that he was part of whatever was going on—had evaporated. Maybe that made her a fool, but it wasn’t like she had anyone else she could turn to.
“Can I help?” he asked, nodding toward the ingredients spread across the counter.
“Nah. This is a one-butt kitchen. But you can pour the wine.”
He poured them each a glass, and she sipped as she worked, enjoying this far more than seemed reasonable, considering he was a stranger and the day she’d had. But she was going to stop questioning it.
“Why don’t you hang the stockings by the fireplace?” she asked.
“In my family, we don’t hang stockings until Christmas Eve. Then it’s time to read ‘A Visit from St. Nicholas,’ set out cookies for Santa, and off to bed. My family is more Santa-focused than religious. Christmas is about the lights and the tree and food and family.”
She could relate to that. “What were—are—your plans this year?” She shouldn’t assume he’d changed his plans in the few hours of their acquaintance, even if he’d offered to be by her side for all eight nights of Hanukkah.
“I was going to spend Christmas Eve and Day at my brother’s house. He’s got six-year-old twins—a boy and a girl. I was looking forward to watching them get caught up in the excitement.”
Much as she didn’t want to be alone in the coming days, she couldn’t be selfish. “You can still join them.”
He smiled and crossed the room, then set his wineglass on the kitchen island and pulled her against him. With one hand, he lifted her chin and pressed a kiss to her lips that started sweet but escalated into hot when she opened her mouth and slid her tongue against his. She reached up, cupping the back of his neck, then she threaded her fingers through his thick, dark hair.
He scooped her up and placed her on the counter, spreading her legs. His erection pressed to her center, and she wrapped her legs around his hips, thankful for the ripped seam in the skirt that made it possible.
He raised his head and stared down at her, his eyes full of heat. “We’re getting off topic. I was just going to kiss you and say I won’t abandon you. You’re stuck with me until we know what’s going on.” He then thrust his hips, his thick cock bumping against her clit and driving her wild as his mouth met hers again.
She didn’t know this man, but he was just what she needed.
“Damn,” he muttered against her mouth. “I need to taste you. Please will you let me taste you?”
She managed a breathy “Yes, please.”
He dropped to his knees and widened the spread of her legs, positioning himself so her butt was on the counter and her legs were supported by his shoulders. His face was level with her center. He took a deep breath, then hooked a finger under the panel of her panties and tugged it to the side. He stared at her aching sex, then stroked her from vagina to clitoris with his tongue.
She groaned. He licked and sucked and explored, and pleasure swamped her. A delicious ache built as he focused on her clit, then slipped his tongue inside her as his thumb abraded her sensitive flesh.
This was wild, wanton, and wonderful, the way he devoured her in the kitchen. She was supposed to be cooking, not being pleasured by his tongue. But she gave herself over to the moment. No guilt. No hesitation. He was making her feel incredible, and she’d spent too much of her life working but not living.
&
nbsp; And this? This was living.
His tongue returned to her clit. Hot, wet friction that drove her wild. He found her preferred rhythm and lapped at her like he was sprinting to her finish line. All at once, she came, a sharp, euphoric release. He pressed his tongue hard, holding her there, and the pleasure ratcheted higher. She rocked her hips against him, shouting and panting, unable to contain either the writhing or the sound.
His mouth left her center, and she opened her eyes to see him between her spread legs, his eyes hot and intense, his lips and beard slick with her wetness. She ran her thumb over the hair on his chin. “I need you inside me,” she demanded. She was desperate for the feel of his hard length sliding deep. She also wanted him in her mouth with equal urgency. To explore every inch of his cock with her tongue, as he’d explored her.
She wanted to continue this raw, dirty, intense connection.
He smiled and shook his head. “No.”
“Please? I’m not above begging.”
He rose to his feet and undid the buttons on her top, exposing her plain beige bra. He pulled back a cup and sucked her nipple into his mouth. Her sex clenched and her hips bucked. He stroked her clit with his thumb as he slipped a finger inside her slick center. “You like that?” he whispered as he moved to free her other breast.
“I like everything. Now get inside me. Please.”
His mouth found hers, and he kissed her as his fingers continued to play with her sex. “No, sweetheart. Because you promised me the world’s best latkes. I’m not giving you my cock until after I’ve eaten everything on the menu.”
He stepped back, leaving her panting on the countertop, breasts exposed, thighs spread, wet and ready for more attention.
“You are so damn sexy,” he said. “With your prim pencil skirt slit to the upper thigh, demure blouse open, exposing your plump tits. And those black boots. I just want to stare at you. And lick you.”
“And have sex with me?” she asked hopefully.
He laughed. “Oh yeah. And screw you blind.”
“I put condoms in the cart when we were grabbing toiletries.”
