“He did?”
“Yep! I saw him.” Jaden was still jumping up and down.
Wow, how many cookies had the kid had? “When?”
“Before,” Jaden said, bouncing in a circle around me.
I rotated, watching him. “Before when?”
“Before now!” He giggled.
Right. He was seven. Telling time wasn’t really his forte. Especially when overstimulated with presents and a visit from Santa and all his friends and a game of tag that had ended in a major punch bowl incident.
I would have normally asked what bunnies had to do with Christmas, but suddenly I didn’t have time. Joe had left? He hadn’t stuck around to help Sandy clean up the snack table mess? He wasn’t helping with the wrapping paper mess? He hadn’t waited for me? And if he’d come over when I’d been talking with Frank and Todd and then just left… had he overheard us talking? If so, what had he heard? Had he heard their offer? Did he think I was taking it? He probably did. Why wouldn’t I? I’d given no one—even myself—a reason to think that staying was an option. Until I’d been face-to-face with everything I’d thought I’d wanted and realized it wasn’t at all what I needed.
Or had he overheard me say I was staying? Was that the problem?
My heart was in my stomach.
“I need to go.”
Something in my tone caught Sandy’s attention because she looked up quickly. “Are you okay, honey?”
“I’m… not sure. I need to find Joe. I need to talk to him.”
Sandy looked worried, but she nodded. “Okay.” She reached into her pocket. “Take the truck. Jaden and I can grab a ride home with the mayor and his wife. It’s an election year so he’ll be out there shaking hands and kissing babies until every last person is gone. Call me if you need me.”
My eyes stung. Sandy was definitely part of me wanting to stay here too. She was wonderful. Warm and loving and generous and sweet, and I knew that I could call her at any time from any place and she would come pick me up. She’d wrap me in a hug and fill the air with her sweet, friendly, happy chatter until I was ready to talk just like she had the first day when she’d picked me up at the airport.
I nodded and sniffed. “I will.”
Then I headed straight for the door. I pushed outside and was met by a blast of frigid air. Crap. I’d forgotten my coat. For just a second I thought about going to Joe’s without it, but icy fingers wrapped around me, and I instantly gave up. I ran back into the Holly Jolly and went straight for the back room. Hanging on the hook was the big ugly coat Joe had given me right next to my cute little zebra print jacket. I’d been wearing the bigger one because, well, it was warmer. Much warmer. It wasn’t fashionable—at all—but no one here cared about that. Plus, it felt like Joe was hugging me when I wore it. That was kind of silly, I knew, but I liked it. He’d given it to me to take care of me, and every time I slipped my arms into the too-big sleeves, I thought of the big arms that, when wrapped around me, made me feel warm and safe and cared for. My eyes dropped to the boots sitting on the floor under the coat hooks.
I knew exactly what I needed to do.
My knees were going to get a little cold, but it would be worth it. I had to make a statement.
Five minutes later my cute elf costume was laying on the floor of the breakroom and I was in the big coat, with a stocking cap pulled over my ears and my feet shoved into the boots.
I looked like an idiot. But I was warm, and I was going to make a point to Joe.
I tromped down the snowy sidewalk toward the truck, praying no one stopped me for a chat. I fired up the truck, realizing it was the first time I’d driven on snow. The thought of attempting such a thing would have terrified me a week ago, but now, I just put the vehicle in gear and pressed on the gas.
Once I arrived, I noticed the light was on in his living room. So he had gone home. I climbed the outdoor steps up to his apartment over Sandy’s garage. The cold air swirled up underneath the coat and across parts of me that had never been exposed to temperatures under seventy degrees. I’d nude sunbathed a couple of times out in California, so maybe not even under eighty. Certainly never fifteen degrees. That was dangerous. I needed those parts. But Joe was worth the risk.
I’d give him about two minutes to answer the door.
It only took him one.
He threw the door open and frowned down at me. He didn’t say anything.
“Hi.”
It was a weak start, but I’d never told anyone that I loved him and was going to give up my entire life to be with him, so I wasn’t really sure how to begin.
“Hi.”
I took a deep breath. “I love you, Joe. And I’m going to give up my entire life in L.A. to be with you.” Apparently, I was just going to go for it.
It didn’t sound as good out loud, but it got the point across, I supposed.
His surprise allowed me to step forward, put my hand on his chest, and push him back. Dammit, it was cold outside. I kicked his door shut behind me.
“I have a buyer for the Holly Jolly, but I’m keeping it. I’m staying here. I want to be here. With you.”
It took him a long moment, but he pulled in a deep breath and shook his head as he said, “We don’t have what you want or need here.”
“That’s not true.”
“You’re from California. You don’t know how to even walk on snow.”
“I just drove here,” I said proudly, but Joe ignored me. He was on a roll.
“You know nothing about chicken wire or wrenches or Garth Brooks.”
“Fine. You’re right. But…” I stepped closer and put my hand back on his chest, this time leaving it there. Over his heart. “But I know you. I know how you make me feel. I know I’ve never felt like this before. I know I can’t imagine not feeling it every single day for the rest of my life.”
Emotions swirled in his eyes. He swallowed hard. “You turned them down?”
“Down flat. They offered more money. Other jobs. Whatever I wanted.” I gripped his shirt in my fist. “And I said no.”
Finally, he blew out a long breath. He reached up and grasped my wrist. “Paris, I can’t ask you to stay. I can’t ask you to give everything up.”
“No, you can’t,” I agreed. “This is up to me. I don’t have to stay, Joe. I’m choosing to stay. I’m choosing North Pole. The Holly Jolly. You.”
“Thank God. Because I love you too.”
He started to pull me close and lean in, but I stopped him. “Hang on. I’ve got something for you.”
“You do?” He looked puzzled.
I stepped back. I pulled off the hat. I kicked off the boots. Then I opened the coat.
His eyes heated as I shrugged it off.
“That’s a really big bow,” he said, his voice gravelly.
The bow had been wrapped around Santa’s chair at the Holly Jolly before Santa Joe had arrived. I’d found it draped over the table in the back room when I’d gone for the coat. I’d grabbed it and wrapped it around me like a Miss American sash. The bow settled right over my belly button. In other words, it covered nothing.
“Yeah, well, you need a big bow for a big package,” I told him with a wink.
“Thought I had the big package,” he said, stepping forward.
“Oh, you do,” I said with a nod. My seductive tone was ruined by my voice breaking a bit as my emotions bubbled up and spilled over. “But all of this with us, everything…is big. Really big.”
He cupped my face and looked down at me with adoration I’d never seen on anyone’s face directed at me before. “Yeah, it is. And that calls for a big bow for sure. And…” He bent and put his shoulder right against that bow, then stood, lifting me over his shoulder.
I shrieked with surprise. “Joe!”
“And a big cup of hot cocoa.”
I immediately settled in against his shoulder as he carried me toward the couch in front of the fireplace. “Ooh, I hope you have a big candy cane for me too.”
&n
bsp; His tossed me onto the cushions, following me down. “Don’t worry, California girl, you’ve been just naughty enough to land on the list for a special delivery straight from Santa.”
Epilogue
Six Months Later
Joe
I nailed the last piece of shiplap into place on the parlor wall above the fireplace and stepped back to admire my work.
“Oh my God, Joe, I love it!” Paris said from behind me. “This looks amazing!”
It looked like wood planks on a wall. But if it made Paris happy, I was happy to do it. I’d do anything for her because I loved the woman more and more every single day. “Glad you like it, sweetheart.”
She called this “modern farmhouse,” whatever the hell that was. We’d been knee-deep in an update of Lydia’s house, save the seventies family room. Paris wanted to keep that intact. But the rest was getting swept with Paris’ brush. Lots of white walls, black matte fixtures, and old painted signs that said things like “Feed” and “Eggs” which cracked me up. When Paris went in, she went all in, and the Cali diva was now officially a small-town girl.
Just like she’d gone all in on us. Once she’d made the decision she wanted to be with me, she’d never looked back. She’d sold her boutique in L.A.; I’d moved into Lydia’s house, and we had been spending every day getting to know each other inside and out, laughing a lot, and loving each other to the max.
“You know I always like wood,” she said, giving me a flirtatious smile.
“I’m sure you do. It says it right on your shirt.” I touched the front of her T-shirt with my fingertip, dragging it across the writing and teasing over her nipples. I cupped one of her breasts. “Team shiplap.”
Paris gave me a smoldering look before pushing my hand away. “No, stop, don’t do that,” she said. “I have to go back to the store. Lunch break is almost over.”
I smiled and set my nail gun down on the fireplace hearth. We had plenty of time.
“No, I’m serious!” she said, squealing and moving away from me.
Louis jumped off the painting tarp he’d been lying on and came running over, barking at me. The little guy tolerated me, but he went into ankle-biter mode if he thought anyone was threatening Paris. I couldn’t fault him for that. I’d kill any man who tried to harm one hair on Paris’ head.
“I didn’t even touch you or say a single word,” I protested to Paris.
“But you were going to, and I can’t resist you. I’m very weak when it comes to you.” She held her hands out in front of her to ward me off, laughing.
“No. You’re just right when it comes to me.” My nostrils flared, and my cock grew hard. I couldn’t ever get enough of her. I’d had a decent, if boring, life before Paris. But now, with her sassy little smile, her sweet soul, and her sexy ass tearing me up in bed, my life was fucking perfect. I couldn’t ask for anything more. “Want me to walk you to the store?”
There was a time when Paris would have told me she could walk herself to the store. But now she understood that sometimes, okay, all the time, I needed to show her how much I cared about her. I wasn’t a guy who had all the words, but I would always take care of her.
“I would love that,” she said. “It’s Tuesday, so you know what that means.”
I did. Shipment day. She would need me to unload the pallet that would be delivered to the back of the store. “Let’s go.”
Paris put Louis on his leash, and we left the house, closing the recently painted front door behind us. “When do we stop calling this Lydia’s house?” I asked her as we went down the front walk.
“It will always be Lydia’s house,” she said. “It probably won’t be truly our house until we have kids.”
God, that made my heart just about burst out of my damn chest. “When’s that going to happen? You’re not getting any younger,” I teased her. Nothing would make me happier than starting a family with her. I knew she would be a fantastic mother. She was nurturing to Louis, Roscoe, Jaden, and frankly the whole town.
Paris reached out and smacked me in the chest. “Behave yourself.” She breathed in deeply the summer air. “I love that smell. I never get tired of it. Flowers and clean air and sunshine. It’s just fantastic.”
“Summer is our reward for getting through winter.” We strolled down Main Street toward the store. Paris had been embracing the warm weather, planting flowers in the boxes in front of the Holly Jolly. We’d been going for ice cream, driving out to the lake, and attending Jaden’s baseball games. The kid had two left feet, but Paris was there cheering him on like he was headed for the World Series.
Everyone in town adored her. She taught Christmas craft classes and had joined the Junior League, working on the Make North Pole Beautiful project. I thought it mostly involved women sitting around drinking wine at their meetings, but they were planning the Christmas in July festival.
“There is something to be said for that,” Paris agreed. She lifted her foot up to display her flip-flops. “I missed my sandals so much.”
Then without warning, she turned, took my hand, and gave me the sweetest smile. “I love you. So much.”
“I love you, too.”
“Hello there, how are you two kids doing today?”
We were ten feet from the store, and I glanced over. Paris had added two rockers and a checkerboard in front of the Holly Jolly, and there was always a steady stream of old guys plunked down in those chairs. Today it was Pete and Rawley, brothers who were ninety if they were a day. With their farms being tended to by their grandchildren, they were now free to spend their days sipping lemonade and slipping candy to Jaden.
“We’re fantastic,” Paris said. “How are you?”
“Any day above ground is a good one,” Pete said.
She laughed. “I can’t argue with that.” She touched Pete’s shoulder as we moved past and went into the store.
My mom was behind the counter, and Jaden, on summer break, was pretending to bat an imaginary baseball with the broom in his hand.
“Hi, Mom,” I said. “How’s that Christmas in July planning going?” I could see she was ordering supplies on the computer Paris had purchased and taught her to use. To my surprise, she’d been thrilled to have an easier system to work with than Lydia’s pen and paper.
“Like a breeze,” she said. “Not all progress is bad. I love this thing.” She patted the keyboard of the laptop.
She also adored Paris and loved us together as a couple. About a month earlier, she’d tearfully confessed to me that she had been worried I’d be alone forever. I knew she was waiting for the day we would get married and give her another grandchild.
“Glad to hear it,” I told her.
“Is it too early to start a Christmas list?” Jaden yelled, still swinging the broom.
“Yes!” my mother said.
“No,” I told him. “You have to know what you’re being good for. You need a goal.”
My mother gave me an exasperated frown. “Don’t tell him that.”
“Cool!” Jaden said, sliding to the counter. “I need paper.”
Paris laughed, attaching Louis’ leash to the hook she’d installed on the counter for the occasions when she brought him. “I’m going in the back to start processing the shipment on my tablet.”
I followed her and shut the door to the storage room behind me. Before she could start working, I took her hand and pulled her into my arms. “What’s on your Christmas list, sweetheart?” I gave her a deep, intense kiss. “Santa wants to know.”
Paris slid her hand down low over my cock and gave me a smile. “Dear Santa, I’ve been very, very naughty this year...”
I cupped her tight ass with my big hands and pulled her closer against me, wishing I had locked the damn door. “I’m sure we can work something out.”
She stroked over the front of my jeans. “I’m sure we can. And in all seriousness, there is nothing I need to wish for this Christmas. I have everything I want right here in your arms.”
&nbs
p; “Good,” I said, still in awe of her and my unexpected fortune. “Because I’m not going anywhere. I love you, Paris.”
Paris leaned against my chest and sighed. “I love you more than chocolate. And the beach. And Prada.”
Couldn’t ask for anything more than that. “Damn. That’s saying something. What about Louis? Do I beat out the walking cotton ball?”
“Keep hanging shiplap and we’ll see.”
Thanks for reading Big Package!
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About the Author
Author Blake Wilder loves to write sexy romantic comedies about guys with big egos, big attitudes, and big hearts. When she’s not creating dirty-talking heroes, Blake can be found buying shoes or going to country music festivals, where she sings off-key loudly to every song.
A lifelong resident of the midwest, she dreams of the day she can ditch the snow and run away to Fiji with a real life hottie. Until then, she’ll be wrapped in fleece and drinking coffee (which may or may not be spiked with whiskey) while writing about the fictional girl next door and her alpha hero.
Visit www.blakewilderbooks.com for more info on the SIZE MATTERS series!
Also by Blake Wilder
Big Head
Big Hose
Big Player
Big Deck
Big Rod
Big Package Page 11
