by Susan Bliler
“Alright,” he reached for the gear shift. “We’ll go.”
“NO!” She reached out and grabbed his arm. “No,” she said more quietly feeling foolish. “We’re adults, Mac. We can do this. It’s just one night, right?”
“One night,” he nodded, but he looked as nervous as she felt.
“What’s your last name?” she asked.
“What?”
“Your last name. If we’re married, it’ll be my last name too. I should know. In case they ask.”
“Oh.” He studied her a moment as if it were information he didn’t want to divulge. “It’s Southon.”
“Baymac Southon.” She smiled. “Sounds very strong. It suits you.” She huffed a great breath, “Ok, so that makes me Grace Southon. Grace South-in,” she enunciated and then looked at Baymac. Her smile dipped when she found him staring at her with his eyes gone tight and some unreadable expression on his face. “Is that…okay? Am I saying it right?”
He nodded and exited the vehicle before hurrying around to help her down. She noted that he pulled his hand away quickly after he helped her down from the truck, then gripped her elbow when she slipped in the now calf deep snow before releasing her again and then reaching for her a third time before he stilled and simply dropped his hand as if he wasn’t sure whether to touch her or not. She eyed the old man standing at the door waiting for them before turning her attention to Baymac and whispered, “If we’re married then you shouldn’t be afraid of me.”
His eyes rounded in incredulity and he bellowed, “I am not afraid of you!”
“Shhhh,” she hissed in annoyance and glanced at the old man by the door. “Just…be normal!” That earned her a scowl before she reached out and snagged his hand with her own then trudged to the door wondering what planet Baymac was from.
Chapter 5
Kris and Mary Clay’s home was lovely. The first thing Grace noticed as she walked through the door was the flood of warmth and the scent of fresh-baked sweetness in the air. She hadn’t even realized she’d been cold or hungry until she’d stepped into the home. Releasing Baymac’s hand, she pulled off her shoes and settled them onto the mat Kris pointed at before being led into the sitting room by a friendly Mary Clay.
“What a storm to be caught out in,” Mary declared ushering Baymac onto the sofa beside Grace. “You two sit and warm yourselves by the fire. I’ll get you something warm to drink.” She disappeared just as Kris entered the room and claimed the lone vibrant red armchair that completed a ‘U’ shape created by the two sofas on either side of it that faced each other, with the chair facing the roaring fire.
The ranch style house was decorated in typical Montana rancher style, all dark wood interior with cowboy themed furniture and décor. A barbed wire Christmas tree even stood proudly wrapped in a twinkling array of lights in the corner. The fireplace was made of huge smooth river rocks and filled nearly the entire wall. It emitted warm licks of heat that had Grace sinking lower into the dark, buttery leather of the sofa beside Baymac. An elegant red rug beneath them gave just a hint of warmth to the color scheme of the room, and when Grace tilted her head back, she grinned up at the elk antler chandelier that sat overhead with dim lights lighting the vaulted ceiling.
“So,” Kris began as he pulled a pipe from a little silver box on a side table and tapped it off a tray before he began packing it with pouch tobacco. “What are you two doing out in this weather?”
“Trying to get to Glacier,” Grace replied.
Kris stopped packing his pipe long enough to narrow his eyes on Baymac over the rim of his gold wire-framed glasses. “Parks closed.”
Grace nodded. “We know. We’re going to stay with some friends.”
Resuming the packing of his pipe, Kris snorted. “Heck of a long drive just to see some friends.” But he let neither Grace nor Baymac respond as he clamped his pipe between his lips and lifted a match before speaking, pipe still held in his teeth. “But s’pose spending the holiday with friends is a good a reason as any for getting out in this.” He winked at Grace then took several rapid draws on his pipe each one ending with a popping sound before he drew in an inhalation of tobacco and exhaled the smoke. The scent of sweet tobacco wafted through the air and it wasn’t offensive. On the contrary and for some reason it made Grace smile as it mingled nicely with the scent of whatever it was Mary was baking.
Mary returned with two giant red mugs and handed one to her then Baymac. Grace grew giddy when she looked inside the mug and saw little marshmallows dancing on the surface of creamy looking hot chocolate. She grinned up at Baymac who was staring down at his mug as if he’d never enjoyed a beverage with marshmallows in it before. He looked downright mortified.
“Thank you,” Grace beamed, covertly elbowing Baymac.
“Yes,” he mimicked. “Th-thank you.”
She was grateful they’d found such a cozy place to hide away from the storm and took a tentative sip of her cocoa as she admired the overall grandeur and warmth of the home. Mary left the room and returned with a plate and when she held it out to Grace, she felt as excited as a five year old to see it housed a pile of mouth-watering chocolate chip cookies the size of small saucers. She accepted one with a giant grin and lifted it to her lips but stalled when Mary jerked the plate back with a “Wait! Neither of you are allergic to nuts? There are walnuts in the cookies.”
Walnuts in the cookies! Grace was so delighted she wanted to explode. Walnut chocolate chip cookies were her absolute most favorite food in the whole world. “No,” she responded excitedly and sunk her teeth into the still warm cookie as Mary held the plate out to Baymac who also responded he wasn’t allergic.
Grace practically scarfed down her cookie, and when she looked at Baymac, he was watching her with a huge grin on his face. A grin that stole her breath because up to this point she hadn’t seen the expression grace his features and damn the man was gorgeous. She didn’t think she’d ever seen anything so beautiful…well, nothing so beautiful until he held out his cookie to her and said, “Go ahead. I’m still full from lunch.”
Her eyes rounded and she wanted to kiss him a thousand times because Mary’s cookies tasted exactly like her mom used to make when she was still alive and it wasn’t every day she got a taste of home. She finished the cookie in record time and felt something warm glow in her belly when Baymac reached up and used his thumb to swipe something off her bottom lip before sucking his thumb into his mouth. He stilled the instant his finger went into his mouth like he hadn’t even realized what he’d been doing until after he’d done it, but then Kris was speaking and Grace tore her eyes from Baymac’s to stare at her cocoa.
“So how long have you two been married?”
Grace’s lips stilled mid-sip and she peeked up at Baymac over the rim of her mug as she started making a show of blowing on the beverage by means of stalling and forcing Baymac have to answer for them.
“Not long,” Baymac offered.
“Oh, newlyweds,” Mary clapped and looked at Kris whose eyes were narrowed suspiciously on Baymac.
“How about you two?” Grace licked melted marshmallow from her upper lip. “How long have you two been married…if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Forty-plus years,” Kris boasted proudly then bent forward to pat Mary’s knee as she smiled at him adoringly.
“Oh, papa,” Mary crooned affectionately lowering her hand to cover Kris’.
“Wow! Congratulations.”
Mary turned her attention from Kris to Grace. “May you be so blessed.”
“Amen,” Grace muttered watching as Mary stood.
“Gotta see to supper.” The woman disappeared before Grace could offer to help, so she slid her mug onto the coffee table and looked to Kris.
“Can I help?”
“No,” he chuckled as he stood. “Why don’t the both of you follow me.” He sidled around his chair then stopped and pointed at her mug. “Bring your cocoa.”
Grace looked at Baymac then grabb
ed her mug. Baymac ushered her in front of him and they followed Kris down a dim hallway.
“Bathroom’s there. You two’ll have to share, but I’m sure you’re used to it. Me and the Missus have our own ensuite, so we won’t bother you.” He stopped to point at a door. “But we’ve got no city water out here. Have to have it trucked in.” He looked at Baymac pointedly. “Would appreciate it if you two could shower together. Cut back on water costs.”
Grace blushed to the roots of her hair but Baymac nodded firmly. “Will do.”
“Great,” Kris clapped Baymac on the shoulder. Then turned and pointed to a door directly across from the bathroom. “Guest room is here.” Then he turned and pointed down the long hall. “Me and Mama’s room is down at the end. Us old timers are pretty heavy sleepers so don’t worry about waking us by getting up to use the toilette if you need to.” He jerked his bearded chin toward the guest room. “Go on and get settled and freshen up. I’ll fetch ya when supper’s on.”
Grace dipped her head gratefully and turned for the room as Baymac reached out a hand and shook Kris’ thanking him again for taking them in.
Pushing open the door, Grace stalled. A warm fire burned softly and there were Christmas lights lit up in the space. She wondered if this was the right room, and was too mesmerized by the cozy feel to find the light switch on the wall. Her hand fished around on the wall, but she gave up when the wall of Baymac’s solid frame pressed into her back. She took a step into the room to give him space and to let him try to find the switch and when light flooded the room, Grace’s jaw hit the floor.
How in the… She turned to look at Baymac with confusion on her face before turning back to the room. It. Was. Huge. And not just huge but fan-fucking-tastic. An enormous sleigh bed was centered against one wall and white curtain sheers hung down from the ceiling and draped each corner of the bed. At the top of the canopy hung pine boughs lit with twinkling lights. In the far corner stood a skinny tree that was lit with so many lights that it, and the boughs around the canopy, illuminated the room that scented of pine and smoke.
Turning, Grace didn’t understand why the hearth in the corner of the room was aglow with a fire that crackled and popped. She looked at Baymac and breathed, “How did they know we were coming?” She watched as he bypassed the grandeur and paced to the window, peeling back a crimson red curtain sheer to peek out at the storm.
“One of them was probably going to sleep in here.”
She pursed her lips because that didn’t make sense. Ignoring Baymac and his lack of reaction to the room, she crossed to the bed and sat on the cream colored comforter, smoothing her hands over the plush bed spread and flopping her body backward to nestle between the numerous multi-sized vibrant crimson and deep green pillows as she beamed up at the giant wreath decorated with gold, red, and silver balls that hung on the wall above the headboard. “I love it here,” she sighed.
“What?” Her exclamation had Baymac dropping the curtain to frown at her as if she’d lost her mind.
Slowly, she sat up and hugged a pillow to her chest. “I mean… It’s nice here, right?”
Baymac frowned hard. “We’ve been here for like two minutes and we don’t even know these people. They could try to butcher us in our sleep.”
“Hey!” she pouted and threw a pillow at his chest. It bounced off and landed on the foot of the bed. “Why do you have to be like him?” she mumbled. “And ruin everything,” she said even more quietly. Hugging a pillow tight, she rolled on her side away from Baymac so he wouldn’t see the tears that rimmed her eyes. It had been a long ass day and she was trying to find the silver linings, but he was acting just like Otto. Otto hated Christmas and snow and magic. He only believed in the world he could see, and he was determined to snuff out anything that gave Grace even a modicum of joy. She swore she’d never willingly spend time with another man like that again and yet here she was.
***
Baymac scented Grace’s pain a second before he saw it flash across her features. She grabbed a pillow and threw it at his chest angrily before muttering words he knew she thought were too low for him to hear. They weren’t, and now he felt like a first class asshole for dousing Grace’s clear delight at Kris and Mary Clay’s over-the-top Christmas farmhouse. Hell, if they were at the North Pole, he might actually believe the couple was in fact Mr. and Mrs. Claus…if he believed in that sort of thing, but big burly shape shifting Skin Walkers didn’t believe in fictitious crap like Christmas and Santa. Still, it didn’t mean he had to ruin it for Grace.
“Sorry,” he muttered and sat on the other side of the bed, plowing a hand through his hair and wondering how he could turn Grace’s happy back on. Eyeing the room he saw her cup of cocoa where she’d set it on the nightstand by her head. He stood and circled the bed, grabbing her mug and kneeling in front of her. “You’re coca’s gonna get cold.” She pinched her eyes shut, but he’d already seen the tears shimmering there.
“So!” she pouted.
At a loss, he remembered the way Grace had inhaled those two chocolate chip cookies and washed ‘em down with half her cocoa. “Hey,” he spoke quietly. “Maybe after dinner we can see if Mary has any more marshmallows. We can break some twigs off those boughs up there,” he jerked his chin toward the canopy even though her eyes were still closed. “And roast ‘em over the open fire. What do you say?”
One of Grace’s eyes peeked open and then the other. Her eyes were still glassy, but at least the tears weren’t welling in the bottom anymore. “You…you like roasted marshmallows?”
Fuck no! “Hell yeah!”
Slowly, Grace sat up and glanced at the fire before tilting her head back to look up at the garland of boughs over their heads. Baymac’s eyes slid the creamy column of her throat. “You think she’d mind? I don’t wanna ruin her decorations or anything.”
“She won’t mind,” he reassured not even certain he was speaking the truth. “In fact, I bet she’s even got some of those boughs laying around her somewhere so we won’t have to touch the garland up there. I’ll ask, okay?” And just what in the hell was he doing? Why was he coddling this woman? Why was he chasing her smile? Why was he trying to bring back her glee? What in the fuck was going on? Drinking cocoa? Eating cookies? Roasting marshmallows? For fuck’s sake! If the other Walkers could see him now, they’d laugh their nuts off. As it was, he wanted to punch himself in the throat. This was all a little sickeningly sweet, but apparently his little Grace had a sweet tooth and if he had to use it to fix her mood, the mood he’d been responsible for ruining, then so be it.
They both turned when there was a knock at the door and Kris called from the other side. “Supper’s on!”
Baymac looked at Grace and repeated quietly, “Supper’s on.”
Chapter 6
Baymac had helped Grace up from the bed and then he led her down the hallway, following his nose to the dining room. Just before they reached the door, he stopped and looked down at Grace. When her brows knitted in question, he grabbed her hand, lacing his fingers with hers before he could change his mind and led her into the dining room.
The space was dim just like the rest of the house, lit candelabras on the white satin table cloth and a tall, thin tree in the corner. Windows covered nearly the entire expanse of one wall and the red sheers were pulled back to reveal the snow storm raging outside. It was a stark contrast to the serene feel of the home and Baymac wondered if this Christmas shit wasn’t starting to get to him too. Hell, it was still the end of November, which meant he had a full month of dealing with this holiday crap ahead of him!
“There you are!” Mary came into the room holding a large pot between two pot holders. She jerked her head to the table. “Sit, sit, sit! You two are there.”
The table was oval and set in the manner Brooklyn—StoneCrow’s events coordinator—always preferred when they were having elegant affairs. Baymac eyed a place setting that was stacked with three plates and a linen napkin on top secured with a jeweled ring. There w
ere two forks on one side of the plate and a spoon and knife on the other while at the top were two fluted glasses, one was clear and the other was bright red. He grinned, finally thankful for the fact that Brooklyn’s etiquette classes, the ones they’d all been forced to take at StoneCrow, were going to finally pay off.
Pulling out a chair for Grace, he watched her nervously eye the table and knew she was overwhelmed by what she saw. Taking a seat beside her, he had to force himself to keep from patting her knee under the table.
Kris came through the same door Mary had and she disappeared out it just as quickly. They were alternating carrying in pots and trays. Baymac made to stand with an offered, “Can I help.”
“Nope.” Kris’ face scrunched in a grin. “Sit. We’re about ready.”
Baymac reclaimed his seat and Kris took his at the head of the table. Mary returned and set a covered dish on a trivet and then took her seat beside Kris.
“Well now, let us pray, shall we?” Kris eyed Baymac and then he lowered his head and closed his eyes, holding his hands out. Mary took one and Baymac took the other—only after Grace elbowed him in the ribs and pursed her lips at him.
“Heavenly father,” Kris began and Baymac lost all the rest of his words because he was too focused on Grace’s tiny hand in his. By the God’s she was a delicate little thing. As if of its own volition, his thumb smoothed over the satiny skin on the back of her hand and then kept right on stroking. Her fingers curled more tightly against his as if she liked the affection, so he squeezed her hand in response, and fuck, it felt right. Was it right? Why was he getting all attached to her? This! This was gonna mess with his head if he didn’t start treating her like the package she was and not his...his…
The sound of a clearing throat had his head lifting and his eyes opening. Kris had finished the prayer and they’d all released each others’ hands except for him. He was still holding Grace’s hand and worse, his head was angled toward her and he was leaning over like he’d been trying to get closer to her.
