Dean sat back on his heels, his teeth on his bottom lip and his forehead wrinkled.
I peered down at the gift in my lap with a shake of my head. “I guess I wasn’t expecting...this.”
“What were you expecting?” He stretched his hand out to touch me again. The watch on his wrist caught the glare of the sun from outside, reflecting it in my eyes like a laser beam.
“I got you a watch. You got me a flogger. Those are very different places to be coming from. Like...different worlds, entirely.” He didn’t say anything, and my mouth felt dry. “Did you expect me to dive right in and say ‘Yes, I love this idea, please hit me with this’?” Our joking at the breakfast table came back to me, and I frowned.
I’d been kidding about a sex toy, but he hadn’t.
Why did that rub me wrong?
“I’m...sorry?” Dean said. He snatched up my hand and my heart thundered in time to the wild clatter in my head. I was here with Dean, the man I trusted, who’d led me into this provocative world with such care. He wanted me safe. He wanted me open.
He wanted to flog me.
I cleared my throat. “I’m not ready for this yet. At all.”
Dean scrunched up his face. “Fuck. I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.”
I pushed the box aside, my body tense as he drew me up in his arms. I’d seen that expression in his face before—panic, worry. I never want you to feel unsafe. Paired with the overwhelming feelings washing through me, a nag of irritation sharpened my voice when I spoke. “Let’s drop it, okay?”
Dean clutched me closer, and I heard the racing of his heart within his chest. “Okay.” When I pulled away a minute later, he cast me the faintest smile. “I love you, you know.”
“I love you, too.”
For some time, we were still. I envisioned what I’d really expected our Christmas morning to be like—me opening something sweet and meaningful, both of us so moved we’d fall right into our magical spell. Then Dean laying me back, peeling apart the robe of his I wore before tracing fingers over flesh that longed for us to seal the affection in. He’d fuck me right there over the discarded wrapping of our Christmas presents.
But that wasn’t what had happened.
Dean stood and started gathering the paper on the floor, his face twisted and confused. “What time do we need to be at Selby’s?”
“One or two. She’s flexible.”
“Okay.” He ran a hand through his hair, off. Unsure. “Do you want to go on a walk on the beach until we have to get ready, maybe?”
“Sure. Sounds good.” I tried not to notice the weird flutter in my stomach while Dean walked away, and I left the flogger by our abandoned spot beside the tree.
* * *
As was custom for Christmas dinner, Selby’s kitchen was a haven of mouthwatering scents: the glaze of this year’s Cornish game hens roasting in the oven, the nutmeg and cinnamon she’d sprinkled over everyone’s spiked eggnog, and the clove-covered orange balls she’d hung up as part of her festive decorations. The anticipation was too much. As I dipped into the snack bowl for what had to be the twentieth time, she pointed her wooden spoon at me with a huff.
“Don’t you ruin your dinner!”
“Sheesh, Ma!” I popped the breadstick I’d been chewing back into my mouth with the widest eyes I could muster, and Selby threw her hands up before giving the couscous a stir.
She’d hosted our “orphans’ Christmas” all the years we couldn’t travel for one reason or another, ever since her parents had moved down to care for her grandma in Fresno and mine had picked up for the East Coast, and later, Seattle, to savor the jazz nightlife in their retirement. Today, after the rush of missing my brother that I’d felt on the phone followed by the awkward present exchange with Dean, I couldn’t be more grateful for some time with my best friend.
“Can you believe they’re still in the garage? It’s a toolbox, for goodness sake. How much fun could that be?” Selby asked.
I shrugged. Dean had scooted outside to examine the present Selby had gotten Alex fairly quickly after our four-way present exchange upon arrival. I wouldn’t say Dean was being evasive, but he wasn’t comfortable. Neither was I.
“I think Dean was surprised by your present.”
Selby put a hand on her aproned hip and slid over to the adjacent counter to pour more eggnog. “Why? It wasn’t a big deal. It’s a waterproof phone case. That’s practical. Alex picked it!”
“I know. But I don’t think he expected serious presents.” The words felt weird. The same was true for Selby’s quizzical stare as she handed over my glass mug garnished with a couple of cinnamon sticks. She fingered the necklace Alex had given her that morning and I realized exactly how much tension I hadn’t ditched yet.
“That makes no sense. Aren’t you two serious?”
“I thought so.” I sipped my eggnog. “I think so?”
Selby frowned. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about it right now.” I picked up another breadstick, trying to dismiss the morning. I didn’t want the plague of my head to distract me when I was hanging with my dearest friend. I could talk to her about pretty much anything—except this, or the flogger I’d quietly shoved back in the box and thrown in the trunk of my car without another word before we’d left Dean’s house. Beyond sticking the gift in my closet when I got home tonight, I wasn’t quite sure what to do with it yet.
Selby sighed and propped herself back on the counter, a wrinkle forming across her forehead as she took a gulp from her second mug of the strong mixture she’d concocted. She wasn’t a big drinker, and the rosy splotches forming on her face stood out against her blond ponytail. “All right. New topic. Let’s see... I already told you about our snuggly morning.” She gestured toward the living room, where she and Alex had apparently opened presents in front of the gas fireplace and talked about the dream futures of all the kids they wanted. “You’re clearly avoiding talking about whatever happened between you two. So, tell me about dinner. How was meeting the brothers?”
“That was fun,” I said, relaxing. Selby remembered the dishes from the cabinet and started handing them over for us to set the table while I talked. “They’re all super nice. I kind of adore them already. Dylan I’ve met. He’s the young one, kind of shy, works with Dean. Luka is the goof—he was so fun, and he and his boyfriend Sam are adorable together. Then there’s Evan, who’s the second after Dean. His daughter, Katie...oh my God. She and Dean were cute together!” Selby listened as we worked around the small dining room, with me recapping my conversations with everyone the night before. I didn’t miss her inquisitive look when I got to the part about Ansel and the weird vibe I’d picked up between him and Dean.
“That’s interesting. He’s Evan’s friend?”
“Yeah, but I guess he and Dean were close at one point, too. They’re not hostile or anything, but there was something there. I’m not sure what the story is.”
“It’s funny, I feel like I’ve heard that name before, through Alex. I don’t know.” She paused in her attempt to remember, then shook it off. “But, your description kind of made it sound like Ansel was paying attention to you. Was that maybe why Dean was off?”
“No. I don’t see why that would be. And Dean wasn’t that off.” Ansel had been paying noticeable attention to me, but I didn’t think Dean would mind that. He and I had attempted a threesome several months prior at a sex club. Granted, it had gone massively awry and had ended abruptly after Dean left me alone for too long with the stranger we’d chosen, which had raised major emotional shit for me. Both of us had totally failed to communicate appropriate boundaries, and though we’d grown from working through it, we hadn’t brought such a thing up again. We’d been so content exploring on our own, I didn’t have a sense of if it was still on the table.
“Who, Ansel?”
“Yes, Ansel.”
“Why does that matter?”
“Just curious.”
I frowned. “Sure. He’s ‘my type’ as you’d say, but I don’t see how that’s relevant.”
Selby nudged my arm in her walk back to the stove. “I’m curious! Gosh. Are you sensitive or what?” She thought she was kidding, but I flashed to my peculiar morning.
Yes, I was sensitive. How could I not be? But Selby didn’t need to deal with that. I bit my tongue while she checked the timer.
“Okay. I think we’re about ready for dinner.” She switched off the oven and pulled out the Cornish game hens, their skins glistening with the fig glaze she’d coated them in. I tried not to drool when the scent wafted into my nose. “Will you get the boys?”
“Sure.” I left Selby for the garage, turning her words over in my head. It was odd she’d heard Ansel’s name and I hadn’t, but also that Dean had been so vague about their history.
Then again, considering this morning, odd seemed to be the theme of the day.
Fucking holidays.
I opened the garage door to find Alex and Dean hovered over Alex’s new toolbox, which, even after all this time, was only half loaded up.
“You two having fun out here or what?” I asked.
“Always,” Alex chimed. He stayed occupied with the box and Dean walked over to me. He circled his hands around my waist to hold me. At the height I was on the garage stoop, his face was a couple of inches below mine.
He stared up into my eyes with such a pensive depth to his, the straight line of his mouth revealing no hint of anything. “How are you doing?”
“I’m okay,” I said. “You?”
“Fine.” His voice sounded calm but quiet, a low, lulling tone.
“Do you kids need a room?” Alex said. His snicker broke the spell. Dean swiveled, and I looked back beyond him, our friend swinging a crescent wrench from hand to hand.
I ran my fingers through the hair at Dean’s temple when he turned back to me. “It’s dinner time, guys. Come on.”
Dean caught my hand, wiggling his fingers against mine and following me in, with Alex trailing not far behind. After the three of us washed up and took our seats, Selby set each of the dishes she’d made on the table. She’d outdone herself, the hens and couscous accompanied by fennel-roasted vegetables and more of her homemade breadsticks that had me salivating before we’d finished serving ourselves. With Dean beside me, occasionally taking a gentle stroke of my thigh, whatever tension I’d felt earlier started to subside while we talked over the meal about family, weddings and holidays. Dean started to loosen up too; he laughed with us over our first helping and past the second, when Selby got up to pour more wine for everyone wearing a dopey smile on her face.
“I’m so happy, guys. Who would’ve thought? Dean at our place for Christmas because he’s smitten on my girl.” She pointed at him. “It’s like you’re a real sap now. I love it!”
Alex snickered. Dean looked at me, but he kept his hand on my thigh. We’d hardly touched since our present exchange earlier other than holding hands for a stretch of our walk on the beach. I cupped my hand over his, wanting him to know it was okay. We were okay. Alex raised his glass once Selby returned to the table, and as the four of us clinked them together, I felt like things were easing up.
Selby took a dramatic swig of her wine then, erasing any doubt I had of her surpassing her limit. I hoped her hangover wasn’t going to be too bad. Drinking was usually my job—but it was Christmas, after all. This was cause for celebration.
“Best Christmas ever!” she said. “Dessert?”
She jumped right back up for the fridge. I said, “Brace yourself, Dean. Her Christmas desserts are amazing.”
“Her desserts are always ama—” His jaw dropped when Selby pulled out a frosted cake covered in mini peppermint sticks. “Oh, good God.”
Alex rubbed his hands together. “I’ve been waiting for this.”
“Peppermint-chocolate layer cake!” Selby carried her masterpiece back to the table and Dean’s eyes widened. Alex grabbed a knife and slicer from the counter, then kissed Selby’s cheek before he took over the cutting and serving of generous slices.
“Told you,” I said. Alex put a piece in front of Selby first. “She keeps outdoing herself. Last year she made a gingerbread cheesecake trifle. That was...wow.”
“Okay. No pressure, guys.” Selby dropped her hands to the table and accidentally hit her fork, sending it flying. “Oh, crap!”
“You okay there?” I asked.
“Yeah. Tipsy.”
“Right.” Alex served Dean and me before taking a seat next to Selby with his own slice, a wolf-like grin on his face. “I’m sure we’ll enjoy this fine, Selbs.”
After we dug in, each of us breathed a happy moan at the peppermint, chocolaty goodness. Dean said, “You ever think about starting a bakery or something, Selby?”
“All the time. That’s later, though. Way later. First plan A, then that.”
I grinned. I knew this plan.
“What’s plan A?” Dean asked.
“Kids.”
Alex rubbed her back, and I admired how much he didn’t freak out whenever Selby brought up her family dream. He never had, even when she’d dropped it on him in their early days of dating. They’d always fit that way.
Selby chewed her bite of cake and angled toward him. “What about you?”
“What about me?” Dean asked.
“Ever think about kids?”
He couldn’t have looked any more uncomfortable. I flinched while he dug his fork into his cake. “Sometimes? I’m not there yet.”
“But you’re thirty-nine. Shouldn’t you be thinking about it? You’re close to forty.”
Alex almost choked on his cake.
“For God’s sake,” I said. “It’s not like we’re all that much younger.”
“We’re both thirty-two. Alex is thirty-four. Thirty-nine is up there!”
“Selby,” I muttered.
Alex swayed his head, and Dean chewed the last bite of his cake, attempting to maintain the calmest look on his face.
“Sorry. Too much?”
No one answered Selby. Alex gathered our empty plates and said, “I’m on dishes.” When he carried the plates to the sink, Selby mouthed, Sorry, before following after him.
Dean hadn’t shed the brooding look in his eyes, so I nodded toward the living room. “Couch?”
“Sure.” The sound of Selby and Alex working at dishes was the only backdrop as Dean sat on the couch and I curled up beside him, my knees against his thighs. We watched the muted basketball game on the TV, and after a long stretch of time like this, I slid my hand into his.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I said.
Dean kissed my forehead, then gazed down at our fingers before staring over my face. When he kissed me gently, the taste of chocolate-peppermint lingered on his lips. “Me too.”
I rested my head on his shoulder, not sure what else to say. Instead, I breathed in the trace of cologne he’d dabbed on that morning, both of us silent while we listened to the joyous chatter between my best friend and her fiancé in the kitchen.
Chapter Eight
The approaching end of the year brought a true chill to San Francisco. I clutched my long coat around my sweater dress and tights, the fog that layered the Embarcadero almost masking the lights that glittered on storefronts and pier posts to celebrate a holiday four nights gone. The parking spot I’d snagged in a nearby alley made for a short jaunt to the classy seafood and steak house I’d nearly reached, and despite the cold against my cheeks and nose, I radiated hea
t inside. The post-Christmas comedown had put everything back into focus, replacing whatever awkwardness had surfaced between Dean and me with a lingering sense of calm. We still hadn’t talked about the flogger I’d brought home and mulled over late after dinner on Christmas, but in time, I’d bring it up. I wasn’t opposed to it; I just wasn’t ready. And for now, with Dean too busy with Niko and Cassandra to talk a ton, I’d wanted to focus more on our interactions. His enthusiasm for me to meet them had shone through, wrapping me up in a familiar comfort I wanted to savor once more.
Especially now. Dean spotted me the moment I stepped through the door, warmth spreading through his face with that smile of his I cherished. He pressed a hand to the shoulder of the handsome, older gentleman beside him before he waved at me, while I let the hostess know I was heading into the bar. Then Dean came racing toward me. He wore a dark gray suit, the watch I’d given him a snazzy addition to his sharp attire alongside his fresh-shaven face, and I noticed several women in the bar eyeing him. I didn’t blame them. As soon as Dean reached me, he enveloped me in his arms with a deep inhalation and said, “Hi, lovely.”
“Hi.”
When he dipped down to kiss me, I melted into him. Here was my Dean, seductive Dean, his tongue sweeping with mine and his lips lingering while he held me close. I tasted a touch of whatever he’d been drinking on his lips, something strong and made with bourbon, and when he pulled back, the shimmer of his gray-blue eyes drew me in.
“I’m excited you’re here,” he said. He looped his arm around me and guided me toward the bar. I noticed the man I took to be Niko and the stunning blonde beside him smiling in my direction.
“Are you all having fun?”
“Definitely. It’s been fantastic to see them—and now you.”
So sweet.
Niko stood from his chair as we arrived. He had to be in at least his late sixties, but he had beautiful, light brown eyes and a head of mostly grayed, curly black hair. The age spots and wrinkles lining his tanned cheeks didn’t detract from the winning smile that set off the dimple in his chin, and the firm, barrel-shaped torso he sported beneath his knit sweater was obviously one of a man who’d spent his entire life keeping mostly trim at sea. The stories Dean had told me about Niko with a bevy of women played through my head, and I could see why they’d been drawn to him.
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