Snowed In & Set Up

by Whitley Cox

  What was his problem? He was clearly attracted to her. All the physiological signs were there. So, what was it? Did he just not like her? Was it her personality? Was he not into blondes? Had he hoped for Juney or Amber to be his match?

  More importantly, what was her problem? She’d never lusted after a man like this before. And certainly not one who continued to treat her this way and show her little interest. But despite it all, she was drawn to Austin. He was unlike any man she’d met before. Unlike any man she’d been attracted to before. His big brain, his shyness, his awkwardness, they were refreshing and appealing. She was intrigued by the quiet introvert, saw something special in him. He didn’t say much, but she knew there was probably a heart nearly as big as his brain inside that sculpted chest of his. Hunter had always gone with her gut in business, but never love, and look where that had landed her. Maybe now, maybe Christmas was when she should start listening to her gut . . . and heart.

  But when he quickly averted his gaze and clenched his jaw, disappointment and melancholy flowed icy-cold through her veins. Biting her cheek until she tasted blood, she nodded. She would not cry. Not here. Not right now. With a hard swallow and a tight smile, she ducked inside the bathroom, shutting the door quickly, and even though she knew he wouldn’t come in, locked it.

  Remembering last night made fresh tears burn Hunter’s eyes as she sat in the living room avoiding Austin’s face the best she could. She’d been quick in the bathroom, not bothering with a shower, and cutting in half her normal length of time to scrub her face and brush her teeth, floss and apply her night cream. She knew Austin needed to use the washroom too, and she didn’t want to make him wait too long. Well, that haste had resulted in a big ol’ Christmas pus volcano on her chin and a night of endless tossing and turning and restless sleep.

  In the end, Hunter knew what the problem was. She was sexually frustrated. Austin’s eyes, his body, his hands and images of them doing despicably wonderful things to her flitted through her mind as she reached for the battery-operated boyfriend beneath her pillow and brought the wand down beneath the sheets. It didn’t take long; Hunter knew how to pleasure herself, knew how to get the job done so she could sleep. A few minutes of pressing on her G-spot, a couple of flicks with her finger on her clit, and she was sighing and sinking into the mattress, her lids slowly closing while Austin’s eyes, those beautiful goldish-green eyes, were the last thing she thought of before sleep finally claimed her.

  “You okay?” Amber asked, Will in her wake as they rejoined everyone in the living room, wrapped parcels and gift bags in hand.

  Snapping back to reality, and leaving last night where it belonged — in the past — Hunter let out a pained sigh and sipped her coffee, inhaling abruptly and wincing when it burned her tongue. “Just peachy.”

  Amber’s whole body vibrated as she plunked the perfectly wrapped present on the table, then flopped back onto the sofa. Her eyes sparkled as she secretly patted herself on the back for her beautiful gift-wrap job. Her family assumed she paid a professional to wrap her presents for her, especially given how clean the lines were and intricate the bows. But no. Amber did it all herself. She loved wrapping presents, especially Christmas ones. There was just something so therapeutic and relaxing about hearing the sound of the scissors gliding through the glossy paper, or pulling the single blade along a stretch of ribbon, only to watch it curl. Then add in the joy of watching someone unwrap that gift, marveling and commenting about how beautifully it’s wrapped, then light up even more when they found the treasure inside—it made Amber’s insides turn to goo and her heart do a happy thumpity-thump.

  Will’s gift took its place next to hers, and he pulled her against his firm body, tucking her small frame under his arm. “What’s up with you?” he asked, an amused smirk tugging his sensuous and cushiony lips.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “You seem different. Giddy or something. You like Christmas?”

  Amber made a noise that was somewhere between a snort and a scoff. “No. I mean I don’t hate it. But I’m . . . I’m whatever about Christmas. Never had a particularly bad one if that’s what you’re asking. But . . . whatever.”

  Dear God, why did she feel that it wasn’t okay for her to divulge her true obsession for the holiday? That when she left work every day between December 1st and December 25th, she stopped in at Starbucks, bought an eggnog chai tea latte and a cranberry bliss bar and then cranked up the carols and sang along on her drive home. Only to toss her keys into the hand-painted (by Amber) snowman bowl by her front door, flick on the lights of the giant Christmas tree in her living room and bake Christmas cookies until bedtime. She brought the cookies to work with her on occasion, saying her mother or sisters-in-law made them, but no, Amber was the one who used pretzels as reindeer antlers and mini marshmallows for snowmen. Christmas meant the world to her, and yet no one in her world knew it.

  Will shrugged. “Okay. You just seem . . . happy.”

  Desperate to change the subject, she let her hand fall to Will’s thigh, and inch by inch, her fingers crept along until the middle one brushed his crotch.

  Like a groggy poked sleeping bear, it twitched beneath her finger.

  “I am happy,” she said. “After last night . . . and this morning. I’d say that’s one of the best Christmas Eves and mornings I’ve ever had. What a way to fall asleep and wake up.”

  He hummed so deep in his throat that it sounded more like a purr. “My head bobbing up and down between those sweet thighs of yours. Little Red, I’ll wake you up that way every morning on this trip if I can.”

  Amber’s nipples tightened beneath her tank top, and she licked her lips. She wanted more than this trip with Will. She wanted every morning and every night to be like the last they’d shared, with nothing but hot, sweaty sex and talking. They actually talked a lot, to Amber’s surprise. Before joining the rest of the group in the morning and after Amber’s TWO wake-up orgasms, they’d snuggled a bit in bed, and Will spoke more of his time abroad working with Doctors Without Borders and his current job at the hospital.

  He was sweet, funny, and kind, and the way his tongue and fingers made her toes curl and her body quiver, Amber knew she wouldn’t be ready to let go of Will when December 28th rolled around.

  No.

  Now she had to figure out a way to make that clear.

  “All right, everyone,” Juney sang, swaying her soft curves around the island in the kitchen and back into the living room. She was clutching a fresh cup of coffee in front of her nose, the steam rising up and quickly fogging up her glasses. “Let’s do this.”

  She took a seat next to Rowan, who had rejoined the group, and he casually draped an arm around her shoulder, planting an ephemeral kiss to her temple. She smiled from the touch of intimacy. That only prompted Amber to give Will’s thigh another squeeze, enjoying her own new intimacy and how it set butterflies all aflutter in her belly.

  Hunter drew the tags out and quietly labeled all the gifts with numbers. Once she was done, she put the matching number tags into the small bag Daisy had mentioned minutes ago. “Who wants to go first?” she asked, waving the bag toward Will while deliberately avoiding eye contact with Austin. His eyes hadn’t left the side of Hunter’s head since she’d sat back down.

  “Oh, all right,” Will said with a grunt and an eye roll, leaning forward and taking the bag. He dug around for a bit, making a show of it; his tongue stuck out the side of his mouth and his lips twisted up in feigned effort. “Let’s see here.”

  Amber chuckled to herself. See, even the surly doctor had a fun side.

  Will’s big, sexy hand emerged from the bag, and he held out the number. “Four,” he said, bending forward and checking to see the number on each of the gifts. His hand stopped on Amber’s perfectly wrapped package, and he picked it up. “This yours, Little Red?”

  She swallowed and nodded. “Yes.”

  “Hmm.” He grinned at her as he slid one of those long, capable
fingers along the perfect seam of the paper, prying the tape up just right so as not to ruin the wrap job.

  “Wait!” Juney said, making Will stop his torturously slow unwrapping. “Let’s all pull numbers, and then we can open them together.”

  Will nodded. “I like that. Less time wasted. Here.” He passed the bag of numbers to Amber. “Your turn.”

  Amber’s heart sank.

  No.

  This was not Christmas. It couldn’t be rushed. She wanted to watch each person open their gift and express joy. But not wanting to go against the rest and reveal her true love for all things Christmas, she kept her mouth shut and drew out a number.

  “Two.” She leaned forward and sifted through the gifts, grabbing the bright silver bag with red tissue paper sticking out. It was heavy.

  Will made a manly noise in his throat. “That’s mine.”

  Amber’s pulse quickened in her veins. What were the odds? She passed the velvet bag to Juney.

  “One,” Juney said, wasting no time and immediately extracting a number. She found the package labeled one and settled it into her lap while passing the bag of numbers to Rowan. He was just as speedy and leaned forward, mumbling “five” under his breath.

  Rowan passed the bag of numbers to Austin, and he plunged his hand inside. He only had two more to choose from. Austin pulled out his number, then passed the bag to Hunter, his eyes never leaving her face. She continued to avoid his gaze.

  “Everybody got their number and their gift?” Juney asked. “And you’ve made sure you didn’t grab your own?”

  Heads bobbed up and down in nods.

  “Okay, awesome.” She looked down at Rowan’s lap. “Hey, you have mine.”

  Rowan grinned. “Do I?” His gaze fell to her hands. “And you have mine.”

  “And I have Amber’s,” Will added. “And . . .” He glanced her way. “She has mine.”

  “That means . . . ” Juney went on, her mouth turning up into a big grin, “that Hunter and Austin have swapped too.”

  “Spooky.” Rowan chuckled.

  Amber’s insides slowly warmed and turned to happy mush. No, Christmas magic.

  “Okay, everyone . . . and . . . unwrap,” Juney announced, her eyes falling to Rowan and drinking him in, as if his gift was something purposefully selected just for her and not a secret Santa gift that could have ended up with anyone.

  Paper rustled and tape tore while bows were pulled and bags gently pried open.

  “Wait, a second,” Hunter hummed, opening up her gift bag. Everyone paused. “I think I got my bag.” Her eyes zipped up to Austin just as he pulled out a bottle of Patron tequila and what looked to be two concert tickets.

  Austin’s eyes went wide.

  Hunter reached into her bag and pulled out the exact same thing. A bottle of Patron and two concert tickets.

  “What the heck?” Hunter said.

  Austin was shaking his head.

  “Did you guys give the exact same thing?” Rowan asked with an amused chuckle.

  Hunter nodded. “Yeah. Tequila and concert tickets.”

  Austin continued to shake his head.

  “How’d you both score concert tickets?” Juney asked.

  Hunter answered as if on autopilot, “I love the Arkells and bought thirty tickets when they first went on sale. Gave them to my staff as Christmas presents. I had a few left over.”

  “I love the Arkells too and my boss has connections and got me some tickets. I’d asked him for two, but he scored four,” Austin said with awe in his tone, still staring at the tickets and tequila and shaking his head. “Though your seats are better than mine.”

  “And I love tequila,” Hunter said.

  “Me too,” Austin muttered.

  “Wow,” Rowan said, exhaling loudly. “That’s pretty crazy. Match!”

  Juney elbowed him.

  He gave her a mock look of mortification. “What?”

  “What did you get, Amber?” Juney asked. It was obvious she was trying to take the focus off of Hunter and Austin and their awkward pre-teen drama.

  Amber had been busy getting a secret high from the intense Christmas whimsy and magic unfolding before her as Austin and Hunter, two people who were so meant to be together, opened up the same gift. Great minds. Common interests. Attraction. Why couldn’t they just act on it? Let the spirit and wonder, the joy of the holiday envelop them.

  “Huh, what?” Amber asked, shaking her head and turning to Juney.

  “What did you get?”

  Amber dug around inside the bag she knew to be from Will and slowly pulled out the heavy object. Her breath caught in her throat as she gasped.

  Will rolled his eyes. “Corny, I know. I’m sorry. There’s a bottle of scotch in there too, to make up for the ridiculous snow globe. I just saw it at the store the other day when I was out grabbing booze, and it reminded me I needed a secret Santa gift. But it’s kind of cute, right? A snowman with a tool belt building a snow fort.” He snorted a laugh through his nose. “Why does he need a tool belt? It’s snow. He doesn’t need a hammer or saw or screwdriver. And it fits, ’cause you’re in construction.”

  Now it was time for Amber’s head to shake.

  The magic of Christmas at work again.

  She’d seen this snow globe in the grocery store the first week of December. She hadn’t bought it then, deciding she would go back and buy it the next time she was out getting groceries. Only it hadn’t been there. And it hadn’t been there the next time either. She’d asked at customer service and even put in an order, but they’d claimed the warehouse was out. Even eBay and Amazon had resulted in zilch. Crestfallen, she’d come to terms, although not without a few choice words once back inside her car, that she just wasn’t meant to have this adorable snow globe. Wasn’t meant to add it to her collection that sat on her coffee table for six weeks during the holiday season and then got carefully wrapped up in paper and tucked away for the other ten and half months of the year.

  Tears stung the corners of her eyes and her throat threatened to close up. Her head was still shaking. “No,” she finally said. “No. I . . . I lo-like it. I like it. It’s . . . it’s super cute. Thank you. And scotch . . .” She chuckled to hide the emotion roiling inside of her. “Well, scotch this expensive is always appreciated. Thank you.”

  Will’s smile was small but genuine. “You’re welcome.”

  “Your turn,” she said.

  Will’s finger plunged back in between the pristinely wrapped paper, and the tape popped free. Amber sat there on pins and needles, watching as he gently unfurled and then folded the paper, the plain green box sitting on his taut thighs waiting to be opened. Would he think it was stupid? Corny? Lame? Hopefully not. Like all Christmas gifts, including ones for strangers, Amber had put a lot of thought into this gift. Along with the gifts for her parents, a new fly-fishing rod for her dad and a gift certificate for pole dancing lessons for her mother (yes, pole dancing lessons; Muriel Roth was a free-spirited woman with an open mind and a zest for adventure and the kinky side), as well as presents for her brothers, their wives and children, Amber had spent nearly an hour wandering around the mall searching for the right gift for the secret Santa.

  Will opened the box to reveal a bottle of rare twenty-one-year-old scotch, a box of gold-leaf-flecked chocolate truffles and a four-pack sampler of Puget Sound Potato Chip Company’s newest flavors: habanero cheddar and chive, rice vinegar and kelp, balsamic and basil, and honey mustard with roasted garlic.

  His hand paused, and his eyes drifted up to Amber’s face. “H-how . . . how did you know?”

  She cocked her head to the side, her heart beating wildly in her chest. She couldn’t get a read on his reaction. He didn’t seem upset, but there wasn’t a smile on his face either. More than anything, the man seemed confused, if not a tad spooked. “How did I know what?”

  “Th-that I love potato chips and this is my favorite scotch? The liquor store was out when I went, otherwise it’s what I would ha
ve given you, too.”

  Her pulse thudded loud and quick in Amber’s skull. She could barely hear him or anyone else. “I—I didn’t know. This was secret Santa, remember? I just bought some nice things. This is my dad’s favorite scotch, and I really like potato chips, they’re one of my vices. And, well, chocolate with gold, how can you go wrong?”

  Big, beautiful brown eyes twinkled back at her. If she wasn’t mistaken, Will’s eyes even teared up a bit. The irises darkened and appeared glassy, and his sexy throat bobbed heavy and thick. He nodded once, twice and then closed the box.

  “Thank you, Little Red. This is a great gift.”

  If it were possible, Amber’s heart inflated and deflated at the same time. He loved her gift, but he suppressed his reaction. What was up?

  “Me next,” Rowan said, having patiently waited for Will to open his gift. He tore off the paper like a fervent kindergartener then opened the box. “What the hell?” he practically hollered.

  Juney sat there biting her lip.

  Rowan turned to face her. “A St. Maurice Lefebvre knife? How the heck did you get your hands on this?”

  Juney’s teeth slowly slipped off her bottom lip as her mouth drew up into a big, infectious smile. “I, uh . . . I know the rep. We’ve set the kitchen up in our new restaurant with all St. Maurice Lefebvre knives and kitchen accessories, and the rep tossed in a couple of extras because, well, he likes me, our order is going to pay for his kid’s first year of college, and I gave him a case of wine as a Christmas present.”

  Rowan shook his head. “These knives . . . Holy shit. These knives make Henckel look like Ikea. I’ve been coveting. No, coveting is an understatement. I’ve been dreaming, worshipping, obsessing over these knives for ages. I just . . . Well, they’re not cheap, and I’m not exactly employed at the moment.”

  Juney lifted one shoulder. “It’s not the whole set, but it is the biggest blade. Hopefully it works to chop things like carrots and celery and stuff. The rep said they’re sharp, so be careful.”