His so-called mate had driven him bananas with her intrusion into his life. Still, he didn't think his mother would have appreciated his rudeness toward Tu.
"Mitch?" Concern tinged her voice. "Are you okay?"
Mitch took a deep breath and looked up at the gently falling snowflakes before answering.
"I'm fine," he said. He was a good thirty miles from the cabin, his wrecker having landed in a ditch when he was distracted by thoughts of Tu. He didn't give her all the details. He wasn't ready for that. Hell, she probably wasn't ready for that.
"What happened? Why didn't you come home last night?"
"I went out looking for stranded motorists," he told her. "I hit a patch of black ice and wound up going off the road. The wrecker has some damage, and I left it on the side of the road for now."
"Well, can I call someone for you?" Tu asked.
"No, it's okay," Mitch said. "I don't want anyone risking themselves to come after me."
"Well, how far away are you?" She sounded like she was trying to contain her panic.
"I'm not sure. Best guess is twenty or so miles away from you," he said. Tu's breath caught with the last two words, and he mentally kicked himself for using them.
"Are you waiting to be picked up?" she asked. "It sounds like you're walking. Is it snowing again?"
He heard some noise in the background, and it occurred to him that she might be in the great room, adjusting herself on the couch. What was she wearing? He hoped it was her painted-on jeans. It was a loin-stirring thought. As if to emphasize the point, despite the fact that he was bone tired, hungry, and cold, his dick perked up in his pants.
"What are you doing?" he grunted.
"I'm just sitting on the couch, watching the snow fall," her voice sounded mellow. Relaxed. "It really is pretty."
Mitch thought she was really pretty.
Mitch liked women, as much as he was capable of liking anyone. He liked to have sex with them. He had never before gotten a boner just from hearing a woman's voice. He also didn't get random boners from simply thinking about a woman. Yet, here he was, lusting after the woman his brain had already decided wasn't for him. Mitch liked to think he had a good brain and was mildly annoyed his body didn't seem to get the "hands off Petunia Greene" signals his brain sent out.
He walked on for a few minutes, carefully trudging through the ice crusted snow along the side of the access road. She did not hang up the phone.
"So... How long are you going to walk?"
"As long as it takes to get to you," he said, wincing. He hadn't meant for it to come out like that. "As long as it takes to get home."
Did he imagine that she sucked in a breath when he said that?
"Anyway, since I didn't come home last night, I wanted you to know where I am." He paused and managed a chuckle. "Before you call the Perdition police on me."
"Oh, shoot! I guess I need to call the police back and tell them 'never mind.'"
Mitch let out a bark of laughter.
"Did you just laugh?" Tu had a note of humor in her voice.
"I've been known to laugh," Mitch deadpanned. "I just have to find the right motivation."
"Are you trying to tell me that my corny third-grader jokes aren't funny?"
"Oh, is that what you find those?" Mitch asked.
"Absolutely!" she said. "Here's one you probably haven't heard before. Why didn't the skeleton go to the Christmas party?" She paused as if awaiting his response. "He had no-body to go with."
"Huh. And people actually laugh at those?" Mitch asked, a note of teasing in his voice.
As he walked along the side of the road, she told him even more corny jokes. He even chuckled at a couple of them. To his surprise, when he checked the time, he realized an hour and a half had passed.
"I just noticed the time," he told her, feeling a little sheepish. She was easy to talk to, and he liked having company for the walk back. "You know, you don't have to talk, I won't be offended if you want to hang up the phone."
"I don't mind at all," she said, warmth in her voice. "This is the most you've said to me when not yelling at me."
Mitch couldn't help but chuckle again.
"I find it interesting that you have to be under duress in order to let your sense of humor out,” she said. In his mind's eye, he could see her with her head cocked to one side, perhaps nibbling on a cuticle.
"I do have a sense of humor," he told her. “I just didn't expect to walk in the door and see the great room almost exactly as my mother left it before she died."
"I'm sorry I brought up those memories." There was real sadness and remorse in her words. "Your mom had great taste in Christmas decor. I love how she mixed handcrafted ornaments and garlands with things you had obviously made for her."
Mitch said nothing to this. She was obviously fishing for information, and he wasn't in the mood to share with her.
"When did you go off the road?"
"A few hours ago. The plan was to come back after I imagined you would already be in bed."
"Are you afraid of me?" Tu was dead serious. Her voice didn't hold even a hint of teasing or humor.
"You mean, afraid you could take me in a wrestling match?" His own attempt at humor fell flat. Tu didn't respond, but unfortunately, his body responded with alacrity at the idea of wrestling with Tu.
"Wrestling? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Ms. Greene?"
"Never mind,” she said quickly. "Forget I said that."
He continued to walk, his eyes on the road for any cars willing to pick him up. Not very likely, as he was shifted to his beast, which made it easier to walk in the snow.
"How long do you think it will take to get here?" she asked.
"A few more hours," he said. "Long enough for you to take down all the Christmas decorations."
"I'm pretty sure I already told you that I'm not taking them down," she told him sounding as if she were scolding him. "I still maintain that all the Christmas cheer shouldn't be locked in your attic."
Mitch sighed heavily. "Those things were stored away in the attic for a reason," Mitch informed her. "I really wish you would take them down."
She ignored him. "You know, as a matter of fact, when you get here, and you've had a chance to catch your breath, I’d like you to help me put up the garlands I can't reach. Also, we’re going to need a tree."
"No tree is needed," Mitch grumped. "Because no decorations are needed."
"Are you Jewish?" she asked.
"No," he replied.
"Muslim? Sikh? Buddhist?" she asked.
"No, none of those, I just don't want to celebrate Christmas."
He wondered whether he would have to listen to her badger him about Christmas all the way home. Hell, at least if he was in his wrecker, he could listen to music.
"Well, since we've already established that we are friends, let me just tell you that as your friend, I will not let you blow off something so obviously important to your family and to you."
Mitch opened his mouth to talk, but he was so flabbergasted that no words immediately came to mind.
"Where are you, by the way?" Mitch could hear her walking around the house, could hear the hum of the cooler when she opened it.
"Not sure. Maybe another ten miles or so? And are you in the kitchen?"
"Yes, I'm in the kitchen," she said. After a short pause, she went on, "Why do you ask?"
"I advise you to leave the kitchen," he said. "Nothing good can come of it."
The woman was a disaster in the kitchen. Maybe even a menace. He told her so.
"Hey, that's not nice!"
"Okay, if you must go into the kitchen, stick with things that don't need to be cooked."
A heavy sigh came from the other end of the line. "By the way, why is everything in your kitchen vegan?"
Being the rarest of all shifter species, not much was known about minotaur's. Mitch often deflected such
questions, reasoning that he was in some sort of encyclopedia. The information was readily available for anyone who wanted it. But he decided to be nicer than usual.
"My kind cannot digest milk-based products," he told her. "In fact, that's true for most ruminants."
"Ahhh... Well, I suppose that makes sense."
"Milk is for babies, anyway," he said. The side of the road was more slippery than the road itself, and even with his heavy weight, he had to take care not to slip.
"I've never been a big milk drinker," she confessed. "Lactose intolerance is common with those of African descent. My mother and I are both lactose intolerant, but my dad and Jasmine are not."
"Speaking of Jasmine..." She seemed to hesitate to say more. "I asked her how she felt about me moving into her backyard. Would you like to know what she said?"
"Sure. It's not like I don't have time to listen."
She went on to tell him that her sister was resentful Tu had shown up for Thanksgiving without being invited.
"I thought my parents were going to tell her, but they didn't, for reasons known only to them."
"Nobody's perfect," Mitch told her.
"I'd say my parents are the poster children of 'not perfect,'" Tu said. "Our parents have been divorced for going on ten years. They no longer live together, but you wouldn't know it. They still run a real estate office together. The talk—and bicker—every day. And my sister told me something my parents did when they came for Thanksgiving. I truly wish she hadn't told me. The image is seared into my memory."
"Really?" he said. "What did they do?"
"Jasmine walked in on them having sex on the kitchen counter of the guest house. Jasmine said it was one of the reasons she decided to move in with her boyfriend."
"Oh," he said, keeping his voice carefully neutral.
But his mind wandered into dangerous territory as he considered the fact that his own kitchen counter would place her at a very workable level should he wish to make a meal of her pussy.
In fact, there were many places around the cabin where he might sex up one Ms. Petunia Greene. His ability to resist this woman was fast waning. First time in bed, he thought, then on every horizontal surface in the cabin. Hell, it didn't have to be a horizontal surface. He thought about pinning Tu to the fireplace and shoving himself inside her...
"Hey, are you okay?" Tu was asking him. He must have spaced out a bit, wrapped up in his sexual fantasies.
"Hm? I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"I said I'm going to live in her cottage as planned, but I also plan to look for some permanent living spaces in town."
"That seems like a good idea," he said helpfully. "Lots of business owners in town have apartments over their places of business. Some live and work in the same building, but many of these spaces are empty. Better and more secure than living in a large apartment complex.
Plus, he'd have a harder time stalking—err—monitoring her for her own safety.
"I've heard that," she said. "My aunt lives above the apothecary in town, which she also owns."
"I have an apartment over my body shop in town," he blurted, then became horrified with himself. He seemed to act on impulse with this woman.
"I'll think about it," she said. She sounded reserved and unsure. She actually seemed disinclined to take him up on his offer, leading him to wonder why?
On her end of the line, he heard the front door being opened.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"I was just checking the weather," she said. "Brrrr, it is cold. Are you sure you shouldn’t just call someone to pick you up?"
"Nah, I'll be fine," he shrugged off her concerns. "I can handle the cold, and the physical exertion."
"You sure? Because I'm from Ohio, and I can't stand this weather myself."
"Yep, I'm sure. You can hang up if you like."
"Nah, I want to keep talking to you," she said. Her voice had lowered an octave, and she sounded a little husky. "I like you like this. You're talkative and engaging. You should try being friendly more often.
"If I did, I'd ruin my reputation around town," he said evenly.
"And what reputation is that?"
"That of town curmudgeon," he deadpanned.
"I can see that title is important to you," Tu said. He could hear the smirk in her voice.
"A man has to have standards. Goals, if you will. My goal is for people to avoid me, especially this time of year."
"Is it because of your mother?" she blurted.
"My mother?" he bristled at her words.
"Yes, your mother," Tu said. "I was in your attic for a couple of hours. I saw all the decorations you must have made with your mother. When did she die?"
Mitch felt the familiar sensation rise in his chest. The sadness, the loneliness that were the hallmarks of his grief, were as poignant now as they had been years ago. The feeling slammed into him at random moments, and not just when someone brought her up. The raw emotion transported him back in time to the shock of her death, her funeral, and her absence.
"I don't want to talk about it," he said abruptly. There was silence on the other end of the line.
"Change of subject," she finally said. "Are there any cars out today?"
"Hardly any," he said, trudging along the side of the highway. "Most people have sensibly decided to stay inside. Where it is warm and where they are unlikely to go sliding off the road."
"I sense a note of censure in your voice," she said lightly. "Like maybe you don't understand why I'd be driving in that bad weather."
"The thought had crossed my mind," he said. "Don't you have anyone in Ohio who cares about your safety?"
He wanted to know the answer to the question for all sorts of reasons. Sensible reasons, he told himself, none of which had anything to do with trying to figure out if she was definitely single.
"My parents wanted to pay someone to move me down here," she admitted. "But I can be stubborn. When there is something I want, I do everything I can to get it."
"Interesting. That explains a lot."
"What do you mean?" She sounded truly confused. In his mind's eye, he could see the skin between her eyebrows scrunching up. An involuntary smile ghosted his lips. He was already learning her quirks. Good gravy.
"You seem like someone who decides she wants things a certain way and who refuses to do anything less."
"Yes, that's about right," she said. He heard her letting out a long breath, then she paused. She was about to say something. Something she'd been holding back, no doubt, until he acknowledged that she went after what she wanted.
"Take you, for instance," she started. Even though she couldn't see him, he found himself suppressing a smile.
"Yes?" he said expectantly.
"You're a hard one to figure out," she told him. "You live out here like a hermit. You want others to think you don't like people, yet you patrol the highway, looking to be a Good Samaritan."
"I have reasons for roaming the highway, and they aren't altruistic," he said. "But that's a conversation for another day."
"Anyway, you're a good guy, but you seem to go out of your way to make people think you hate them."
"I don't have to go out of my way. I really don't like people," he said. But again, his lips tried to curl into a smile, and again, he suppressed it. It was getting harder to ignore the way she made him smile. And the way she made him feel.
"So, to recap," she said. "You care about others, and you live in the friendliest town in Texas. The most Christmassy town I can think of, in fact. Also, you are attracted to me, but you won't let yourself go there. I don't buy that it's because you're too old for me, I'm too nice, etcetera, etcetera. I think you're afraid of me."
Here's where he should have scoffed at her. Telling her she had it alllll wrong. Instead, he listened.
"There something about you that speaks to me at some primal level," she confessed, her voice husky. "Like, when I'm close to you, it's like my body wants to gravitate toward
you. Like you're some kind of a sexy magnet, pulling me in. I've never felt like this before."
He kept trudging along, his feet crunching through the snow and ice. He hadn't been prepared for her to say that. Should he tell her he felt the same way? That she turned him on like no other woman ever had?
"Comments?" she asked when he didn't reply.
He wished he could see her face. Did she have a twinkle in her eye? Or did she have that smug look on her face, the same one she had when he'd pinned her to the fireplace?
"No," he said. His voice had become husky. Even with the cold, wet, and fatigue, his body came awake with desire.
Tu let out a frustrated sigh.
"You want me, and I want you, and I can't think of any reason why we shouldn't honor our desires. We don't have to do anything more than have this short amount of time together," she said. "At some point, the snow will melt, and we'll go our separate ways. We don't have to make a big deal of it."
Only she didn't know the whole story, did she? It wasn't actually that simple. If he was right about Petunia Greene, it was a big deal.
"So, the fact that you think I'm too young for you, too nice, too whatever," she went on, "it won't matter. We won't spend enough time together for you to get attached."
He said nothing, his words having completely failed him. He wanted to believe it could be that way. He had wanted her from the moment he'd met her.
"I think we should table this discussion," he said. "Until we can talk in person." He had by then reached the cabin. He stopped at the bottom step.
"Okay…" she said. She sounded disappointed, and he felt bad. Did she think he was rejecting her?
"I'll be...home...in a minute," he hesitated over the word "home," it sounded so...domestic. Like they were definitely together, definitely a couple. But Tu had just told him she only wanted to fool around until the weather broke and she could go home. It was wrong for him to expect more.
When Mitch reached the front door, he was hungry, tired, and still fully shifted. Petunia opened the door for him, bathed in a pool of warm, yellow light. The decorations his mother had so loved surrounded Tu, and his life's goal tunneled to a point where all he wanted to do was hold her.
Her Mistletoe Minotaur: A BWWM Paranormal Holiday Romance (A Very Alpha Christmas Book 1) Page 9
