Storm

by Carian Cole

  We move to the couch, and I take the bow off the gift carefully. I want to save it. Soon, it will live in a box in my closet with all things precious to me, little memories I’ve collected. Wrapping off, I lift off the lid. Whatever it is, it’s buried in tissue paper. I move it all aside and lift whatever it is out...

  Holy. Wow. I gently turn it over in my hands, and my heart just soars. I can’t even form words as I hold this amazing gift in my hands. It’s a snow globe, and inside is a tiny miniature pick-up truck with two little people holding hands and a dog, all surrounded by trees. The little man even has long hair. Obviously, he paid someone with quite a bit of talent to make this for me.

  “I remember you said you love snow globes,” he explains. “I thought one with us in it would be cool.”

  I hold it between us as I watch the snowflakes fall around the little ‘US’ inside. It’s so unexpected and sweet. I want to climb inside and live in this sweet scene forever.

  I lay it on my lap and throw my arms around him. “I love it so much. Thank you. It’s one of the best gifts I’ve ever received.” I don’t want to let him go. I know I cling to him for too long, but it feels so good in his arms.

  He holds me just as tight. “I’m glad you like it. I’m not usually good with gifts.”

  I pull away reluctantly. “It’s the best, really. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” I kiss his cheek. “I just love it.”

  I stand and walk to the mantle and put it next to my mom’s little gingerbread house. “I’m going to keep it out all year round, you know,” I tell him.

  “Good. Hopefully, it will remind you to call me when you’re supposed to,” he teases.

  I shake my head at him and grab my coat. “I call you when I can.” Taking my coat from me, he holds it out for me to slip into, then puts his arms around me from behind, pulling me against his body, his arms crossed in front of me.

  “Where’s my bow?” he whispers.

  My body instinctively sinks back against him. “You promised to behave.”

  “I lied.” His lips are on my neck, kissing softly. “I didn’t know you would look so delicious.” The slight scruff on his face tickles me. “Tell me you’ve been thinking about me,” he says as his hand travels down my side, over my hip, and rests on my outer thigh, pulling my lower body against his.

  “We promised no more of this, Storm.

  His lips are all over my neck, kissing, licking, and sucking. My mind starts to spin and twirl, blurring the lines between right and wrong, good girl and bad girl.

  “I don’t like that promise anymore.” His hand grips my leg tighter, inching between my legs now, his lips moving down to my shoulder, my sweater pushed aside. His other hand finds my scarf, and slowly wraps it around my neck, tugging it slightly, pulling my head back to him. A tiny moan escapes me, and I try to pull away, but he tugs it harder, not choking me, but holding me there against his lips.

  “I like you just like this. You can’t get away.”

  His hand moves between my thighs and his finger slides over me, pushing the fabric of my jeans against me.

  “I can feel how wet you are,” he whispers.

  I am lost in his sensuality. I have no defense against it. I am clueless as to how to respond to it. Twelve years of mundane sex has left me a perpetual virgin. I am stagnant, scared, frozen, trembling. Aching. I want to turn around and just let him do anything. Everything. I want to unravel beneath him and be nothing but his. His, his, his.

  I turn in his arms to face him. His eyes are dark with lust, his hair falling over his face in the way that I love. I grab his shirt with my hands. It’s unbuttoned almost to the middle of his chest. Not really appropriate for Christmas dinner, but definitely hot. I finally allow my lips to touch his chest, my first kiss to him. His hands come up and hold my head against him.

  “Yes, baby...” he breathes. “Let yourself want me.” His breathing is ragged, his hands tangling in my hair, yanking my head up toward him, his lips crashing down on mine, devouring me.

  It’s he who pulls away. Steps back slightly. But his eyes still hold me... caress me... wanting me.

  “Fuck.” Loud, but not yelling. “I won’t do this to you, Evie. You will hate me, hate yourself, and hate us.”

  I nod tearfully at him. I unwind the scarf from my neck and straighten my sweater. I already hate myself, though.

  “I don’t want him hanging over us. I don’t want him between us,” he says.

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “We can rewind a thousand times, Evie. I’ll keep doing this with you. But I don’t want to.”

  “Storm, I’m trying. I am.”

  “I know you are. I am, too. I can walk out of here and never see you again, leave you here with him. Would that be easier for you?”

  The thought of that scares the shit out of me. I could lose him. Obviously, he will not wait forever for me to make up my stupid mind.

  “No, I don’t want that. I would miss you like crazy. I would always think of you.”

  “And him? If you leave him, will you miss him like crazy, too?”

  I admire how Storm fears no question. He just asks. He hopes for the answer he wants to hear and swallows what he doesn’t.

  I’m ashamed to answer this question though, and I don’t really trust my answer. Is it clouded by the way he makes me feel? How much of this is just excitement and desire?

  “I guess your silence answers that one.”

  “No.” I grab his hand. “It doesn’t. I don’t think I would miss him. Not like I will miss you. I would miss the memories, the time invested. I’m afraid of you hurting me. I’m afraid this is just crazy attraction, and once we get it out of our systems, it’s just going to be over, and you’ll be chasing after someone else, and I’ll have a broken heart.”

  “I’m not fifteen, Evie. I know the difference between wanting to fuck someone and having real feelings for them.”

  He steps closer, smoothing my hair. “Let’s go. It’s Christmas. We can talk about fucking and feeling later, okay?”

  His ability to transition in and out of situations amazes me. There is no beginning or end with him. He just pauses what’s happening, diffuses it, and deals with it later at a better time. I’m not sure if this is a good thing or something that could eventually drive me crazy.

  Seeing Niko in the backseat is another highlight of the day. I missed this big fluffy monster so much. He wags his tail and makes these little howling noises when I get in the truck. I’m sure he remembers me.

  “I missed him. He’s such a cool dog.” I pat his big fluffy head while Storm backs out of the parking spot. “Do you think he remembers me?”

  “Of course, he does. Look how happy he is.”

  “Aww...” I say. I’m sure I’m getting fur all over me, but I don’t care.

  “Do you think he and Halo would get along? If they were together?” He’s trying to make the question sound casual, but I’m not buying into it.

  I think about that for a moment. Is he thinking what I think he’s thinking? “Um, I don’t know. Halo has never seen a dog, but I’m sure if Niko doesn’t chase him they would be fine.”

  He nods, staring out the windshield. “I was just curious.”

  I want to question what he’s thinking, but I don’t want to rock the boat again, not today. He reaches across the truck and takes my hand in his, resting them together on my leg. I swallow hard and look over at him.

  “Storm...”

  He glances over at me quickly and then back to the road. “Evie, this is what we do. We hold hands. I’m not giving that up.”

  I squeeze his fingers tighter into mine. It’s such a simple touch, holding hands. Little kids do it. It’s the first step into affection with someone when we are young, to hold their hand in yours. At our ages, this sort of gesture should not hold so much meaning. Most couples our age go straight to wild kisses and directly to bed. Our courtship breathes slowness. It hides in the dark corners. It
peeks out with tiny touches, explodes with quick erotic moments, then runs back to hide. It is both sweet and dirty, and it’s taboo.

  “I should probably tell you about my parents,” he says.

  “Oh?” My nerves stand at attention and my stomach starts to burn a bit.

  He takes a visible deep breath. “My father is Ronnie Vale. My uncle is Vince Vale. My mother is Aria Valentine.”

  My stomach seizes at the names. He has to be joking. “Storm, please tell me you’re kidding?”

  He shakes his head and grins at me sideways. “I’m totally serious.”

  “Ronnie and Vince Vale the musicians from the seventies? And famous romance author Aria Valentine?”

  “Yup.”

  I can’t believe he hasn’t told me this. These people are pretty much household names. I remember my parents listening to the music of the Vale’s on long car rides. Those songs still played on the radio and were on all sorts of Songs of the 70’s albums. I have read almost all of Aria Valentine’s novels and seen most of the movies on cable based on her books. Of course, the movies were never as good as the books, but I still watched them just to see her sexy love-struck characters come to life.

  “How could you not tell me this? You can’t just let me walk into a house of famous people, Storm. I don’t belong there.”

  He squeezes my hand harder so I can’t let go. “Evie, one of the things I really like about you is you don’t give a shit about money and fame. You don’t look at it as an opportunity to get something. Like right now. You’re not jumping up and down getting all excited to meet famous people. You want to go back home. I can hear it in your voice. You don’t give a rat’s ass who I am. I had to beg you to agree to come to my show next week, and I think you’re only doing that because your dickwad boyfriend is a fan.” He pauses to make a turn. “I don’t want to be with a star chaser, and I don’t bring them near my family. When I’m offstage or with my family, we’re just normal fucking people. We don’t want to be ‘on.’ You’re the first girl I’ve brought home in about twelve years.”

  “I’m the wrong girl to be bringing home, Storm. I have a boyfriend. What will they think of me? You finally bring a girl home and she’s living with another man? I can’t do this.”

  “Evie, don’t get yourself all whacked out. They know who you are. They know you’re not a girlfriend and that we’re just friends. For now.” He looks over at me and winks. I shake my head at him. I’m not sure I can do this. His mother will think I’m a hussy. Living with another man and spending Christmas with her son. I’ll probably end up in one of her novels as the stupid character who can’t get her shit together and just whines all the time and wallows between two men until they both dump her ass.

  “Stop it, Evelyn. Clear your mind of the shit, okay?” He pulls my hand over and places a quick kiss on the top of my fingers, a gesture that melts me every time. “We’re going to have a good time. No one is judging anyone. My family is cool. None of us are perfect. My parents are like fucking hippies. They’re not rich snobs like you see on television. I wouldn’t bring you there if they were like that and subject you to that kind of crap.”

  I feel myself getting deeper and deeper into him. I know he is doing this on purpose to try to get me to leave Michael. Every time Michael fails, Storm is there to make it all better. But even I know someday, Storm will fail, too.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Gram’s house is a beautiful sprawling ranch-style in the shape of an ‘L.’ The trees and bushes out front are decorated in pale blue lights, and white lanterns line the driveway and walkway. It’s pretty and welcoming, just as Storm described on the ride up. I wished I had baked cookies or a pie, or brought a bottle of wine with me. Something. I hope his family doesn’t perceive me as some ungrateful tart crashing their family dinner with not even enough manners to bring a thank-you offering. I cringe at what my mom would think. She raised me better than this.

  Storm opens the passenger side door and takes my hand to help me out of his truck. We watch Niko run around the yard for a few minutes before heading for the front door, where he turns to bestow his most irresistible smile upon me. “Don’t be nervous, baby. This is home for me. If... and yes, I’m fucking saying if, we are ever together, we would spend a lot of time here. That’s what I want. I should warn you, though, Gram is itching for a great-grandchild.”

  My mouth gapes open at him. “Dude, I am in no way ready to discuss babies.”

  “Don’t call me dude. And neither am I. But someday, maybe...” He quirks his eyebrow up at me.

  At that moment, the door opens and a tiny, gray-haired woman is standing there. And I mean even shorter than I am, putting her at under five feet tall. She is simply adorable, and she is beaming at us.

  “Come in, come in!” Niko rushes in past us and sits expectantly at Gram’s feet as we enter the foyer and close the door behind us. She hands the dog a big Santa-shaped cookie. “Now, go find your bone and be a good boy.”

  She turns to us. “You must be Evelyn!” She grabs my hands. “I’ve heard so much about you, honey! I’m so glad you’re here! Storm talks about you nonstop—”

  “Gram!” Storm interrupts, but he’s smiling ear to ear. He leans down and kisses her on the cheek. “She doesn’t need to hear all that.”

  “Of course, she does, dear!” She takes my hand again. “Come into the kitchen and meet everyone!” I glance back at Storm as Gram leads us to the kitchen. He smiles and winks at me.

  The house is gorgeous, but decorated very comfortable and lived-in. The kitchen is modern and monstrous with a large island in the middle. A small group of people are laughing at the table in the corner, and Gram gently pulls me over. They all look up and smile at us.

  Storm steps up beside me. “Hey, you guys, I want you to meet Evelyn. Evie, this is my dad Ronnie, my mom Aria, and my little sister Rayne.” Storm and Rayne. I love it.

  They all smile and say hello at the same time.

  “Thank you so much for having me... it’s wonderful to meet all of you.” Thank God, my voice didn’t crack as it usually does when I’m nervous.

  They stand up for a proper greeting and take turns hugging us. “Evelyn, we’re delighted to finally meet you,” Aria Valentine says, kissing my cheek. The woman is gorgeous. Tall with long wavy hair, beautiful skin, and emerald green eyes like a cat. I can see so much of Storm in her.

  I, of course, recognize Ronnie Vale, Storm’s father, as I’ve seen him on television at least a hundred times. He is tall, handsome, and well built. His graying hair is longish and tied in a neat ponytail at the base of his skull. He hugs me then looks me up and down quickly. “Storm, you weren’t kidding when you said she was gorgeous.”

  Oh, my God. I feel myself blushing. Storm shrugs.

  “Daddy, you’re embarrassing her!” Rayne pipes up, rolling her eyes. She is also beautiful like her mother, and very petite. Her hair is dyed jet black with purple highlights. She’s wearing an over-sized sweatshirt with the neck cut out, a purple tank top layered beneath, and skinny jeans with holes in the knees. Even dressed casual, she has a sense of cool style about her. I wonder if she’s also a musician of some sort. She definitely has that look going on.

  We all move into the living room where a roaring fire is lit in a stone fireplace in the corner. I sit in a big soft chair near the fire and Storm sits on the floor in front of me, leaning against the front of my chair, his arm against my leg. I take in my surroundings. A huge Christmas tree stands in the corner, nearly reaching the high vaulted ceiling. It’s decorated with beautiful glass ornaments and pastel lights. A heap of wrapped presents are piled beneath it. Niko is laying a few feet away from the tree, gnawing on a bone that is about three feet long and has a red bow tied at the end of it.

  A spread of fresh fruit, truffles, crackers, and cheese are set out on the coffee table. Everything looks too beautiful to even eat. Storm’s parents are sitting on the loveseat opposite us, his father’s arm around his mother, her lea
ning her head into his shoulder and smiling over at us. I remember Storm telling me during the blizzard that his parents shared true love, and he was right. You can just feel the love between them with their shared smiles and closeness.

  Rayne is sitting on the floor in front of the fire, her legs tucked under her Indian style. “I think the way you guys met is awesome,” she says. “I mean, like who the hell gets trapped in a truck for two days! It’s epic! Mom, you should totally write this into one of your books.”

  “No, she shouldn’t,” Storm says, playfully kicking his sister.

  Aria smiles warmly. “Some things are meant to be private, Rayne. Storm doesn’t want his love life showing up in a book any more than you do.”

  Love life? What?

  Storm hands me a cookie from the table and continues on with his sister. “Trust me, it wasn’t fun, kiddo. We fucking froze our asses off.”

  “You really didn’t know who he was?” she asks me.

  I shake my head and swallow my chocolate chip cookie. “No, I really didn’t. I actually thought he was some kind of psycho murderer. When he first found me, I screamed at him to get away from me.”

  “Yeah, and she thought Niko was a wolf. She screamed bloody murder when she saw him,” Storm added.

  “Hey, he could be part wolf for all we know,” Ronnie interjected. “He looks bigger every time I see him.”

  “Storm, you better make sure he doesn’t steal my slippers again!” Gram yells from the kitchen.

  “Gram, he’s chewing his bone, take a chill, and hurry it up in there. I’m starving.”

  I can’t help but smile and feel at ease with these people. Storm was right, they are so easy going and fun and not snobby in the least. My nervousness begins to subside.

  I tap Storm’s shoulder. “Where’s the restroom?”

  “Down the hall, third door on the left.”

  I excuse myself and make my way down the hallway. The house is much bigger on the inside than it appeared from the outside. I find the bathroom, the door is open about six inches, and the light is on. There doesn’t seem to be anyone in there so I push the door open, and walk right into Storm.