Christmas Cowboy

by Claire Adams

  “I aim to please,” he said with a mouth full of baked potato as he sawed at his filet. He ate like a man who had a limited amount of time to ingest his food before it was taken away.

  “Slow down, we’re not in a race, sailor,” I laughed. He gave me a sheepish grin as he lowered his utensils and took a sip from his glass of water. We were quiet as we ate, but Brian watched me with a questioning look and I knew he was itching to ask something.

  “So, I have to ask you,” he said on cue. “We’ve been together for almost a week now and there have been some harrowing moments that I’ve reported back to HQ, but something is puzzling me.”

  “I know,” I said. I’d been prepared for this question from the first day. “You want to know why my parents never call me, right?”

  “Yeah, actually, that was my question,” he said, amazed that I’d somehow read his mind. It wasn’t so much that I’d read his mind as it was that I’d been answering this same question for most of my life.

  I explained to him that everyone at boarding school and then at college talked about weekly obligatory phone calls or having to check in with their parents or having to ask for money from their parents, and so kids were always asking me why I never had to do anything of these things. No check-ins and no calling to ask for money, instead, once a month I wrote a summary of my activities, printed it out, and mailed it to my father. The money was automatically deposited in my account on the 1st and 15th day of the month, and I was given such a generous allowance that I usually ended up depositing what was left over in a separate savings account I’d started at the boarding school.

  “I’m not sure if my father was being savvy and teaching me business skills or if he simply didn’t want me to bother him and my mother,” I admitted. I couldn’t condemn my father, after all, he’d never been cruel to me, just indifferent. My mother was a whole other matter, and one that I didn’t really feel like sharing over dinner.

  “But how can they not check in and see how you’re doing?” he asked.

  “Easy, they just don’t,” I said matter-of-factly. “It’s not a crisis, it’s just the way my family operates. I think my grandfather raised my father the exact same way, so what do you expect? We do what our parents teach us to do.”

  “But if that’s the case, then how did you get involved with Dominic?” he asked as he shoved another loaded fork into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully as he waited for my answer.

  “I already explained that,” I said. “I was duped by his personality and the money.”

  “That makes no sense to me,” he mused. “You have money, and Dominic is a sociopath! He doesn’t care about anything except his reputation and his stuff.”

  “Like I said,” I replied as I stared at my meat while I carefully carved a bite-sized piece from the juicy filet. “We do what our parents teach us to do.”

  Brian watched me closely as he continued to chew. Suddenly the light bulb went on and he leaned across the table. “Are you telling me—”

  “Just let it go, Brian,” I said pointedly. “Just let it go.”

  He looked at me thoughtfully for a few moments, and then cut another piece of meat and popped it into his mouth.

  “But what about your grandmother? You said she loved you,” he said.

  “That was a whole other matter,” I said quietly.

  “Tell me about it,” he urged as he looked into my eyes. “I want to know you — all of you.”

  “My grandmother was the center of my universe,” I began. “I told you about our last trip together and what happened afterwards.”

  Brian nodded and continued picking at his food. I picked up a piece of asparagus with my fingers, bit off the tip, and chewed as I thought about how to explain my grandmother to him.

  “My grandmother was the epitome of high society,” I said as I thought about how she’d always dressed for dinner and insisted that I do the same when I was visiting her. “She had impeccable taste and valued courtesy and manners above all else. She used to say that without manners we were no better than a tray of ice cubes.”

  Brian laughed out loud as I giggled remembering how every time she’d said this, I’d laughed because it was so ridiculous. I told him about how she’d once spent my entire spring break teaching me how to curtsey and pour the perfect cup of tea just in case I was ever invited to meet the Queen of England. Then I told him about how she’d made a habit of sending me books by Miss Manners and Leticia Baldridge in order to drive the lessons home. I was expected to read and memorize certain portions of the books so that I could recite them to my grandmother on command. It was nerve-wracking because she was demanding and did not suffer fools, but she always stepped in and helped me fill in the blanks when I couldn’t remember the exact words I’d read. It was the spirit of the law that mattered to her, not the letter of it.

  “Didn’t she see what was going on with your parents?” Brian asked.

  “Of course she did,” I replied. “That’s why she spent so much time with me. She knew I was lost and lonely, and that I had no idea why my parents ignored me.”

  “But couldn’t she have said something to your father?” he asked.

  “Oh, she did,” I said as I shook my head, recalling all the times my grandmother had confronted my father about his neglectful parenting. “She was merciless in her critique of his failure as a parent.”

  Brian nodded as if he understood what I was explaining. I told him about the frequent fights between my father and my grandmother, and the way in which she berated him and made him seem small and weak. I was never sure if he knew I’d heard the abuse, but I was fairly certain she’d known that I had often been lurking outside the sitting room where they had their conversations. She was cruel and spiteful, and she said some incredibly awful things to him and about him.

  “I never quite understood why,” I said, remembering the last time they’d fought. “My grandmother was so incredibly kind to me and she had the biggest heart in the world. It always seemed so odd that she could love me so much and hate my father with such intensity. Or at least I thought she hated him, but then, I was 14, what did I know?”

  “Yeah, it’s hard to understand that stuff when you have no frame of reference or history,” he agreed. I stopped and looked at him carefully. He knew something. What that something was, I didn’t know, but I was going to find out.

  “The last fight they’d ever had was right before my grandmother was to take me to Europe,” I recalled. “My father showed up to bring my passport and be supportive, I think. My grandmother lit into him before they’d even closed the door. She dressed him down for being inattentive, and then scolded him for not bringing my mother with him to wish me a good trip. She knew that my mother wasn’t well and that she’d been hospitalized yet again, but she couldn’t help but poke at my father’s wound.”

  I explained how my father tried to defend himself by explaining what had happened to my mother, but my grandmother had coldly cut him off with a, “You’re just like your father; good for nothing,” and then stormed out of the drawing room. She saw me there listening, and for a moment, I saw a look of pain cross her face before she rushed upstairs. She spent the next two days in her room, and on the third day, she emerged with her hair and makeup perfectly done and announced that we’d be leaving for New York that afternoon. We hadn’t been scheduled to travel until the end of the week, but she had decided it was better to get to the city and wait for our flight.

  I described how we’d spent several days in New York City shopping and eating and having a grand time, but that every time I looked at my grandmother, she seemed sad. I wanted to ask her what was wrong, but at 14 I still had a healthy respect for adults, and she’d been my manners coach, so I didn’t dare ask.

  “I loved my grandmother more than anyone in the world, but she was…” I trailed off.

  “She sounds like she was troubled,” Brian interjected.

  “Yeah, troubled is a good word for it,” I affirmed. I looked ov
er at him. I’d been talking for what felt like hours and he looked ready to drift off into a comfortable food coma. I laughed. “Do you need to get to bed?”

  “Who, me?” he asked in a sleepy voice. “I’m not tired at all! I could party all night.”

  “Sure, sure, big man,” I laughed. “Do you want to share the bed with me? It’s more comfortable than the couch, I think.”

  “Why, Mrs. Robinson, are you trying to seduce me?” he joked.

  “Oh, get real, I’m just being nice,” I said, laughing that he was using a line from a 1970s movie on me, a younger woman. “We can share.”

  “Yeah, that would be nice, if you don’t mind,” he said more seriously as he yawned and stretched. “My back is killing me and that couch is not made for guys my height.”

  I felt guilty that I’d made him spend so many nights on the couch, but I’d had to in order to gain some kind of distance from him. Tonight would be different, we’d get a good night’s sleep and figure out the game plan in the morning. I smiled as I walked to the bedroom and changed into my pajamas as Brian set up the security system for the night.

  *****

  We slept soundly that night and woke up wrapped in each other’s arms the next morning. I woke first and lay next to Brian watching him sleep. He hadn’t had a night terror in a few days, and the look on his face was one of complete peace. I lay my head on his chest and listened to the sound of his heart beating slow and steady as he breathed in and out. It was meditative, and I drifted into a peaceful place between sleep and awake, so it was a few minutes before I realized that he’d woken up and was gently stroking my hair.

  “Morning,” I said as I looked up at him and smiled. He gave me a sleepy morning smile and then tightened his arm around me.

  “Morning, beautiful girl,” he whispered into my hair. I shivered as I felt his fingers move from my hair to my cheek and begin to trace a light path from my forehead to my chin. I lifted my hand and placed it over the top of his as he stroked my face, loving the feel of touching him as he touched me. Slowly, he traced his fingers down my cheek until he could rest them beneath my chin and tip my face up toward his.

  We lay gazing into each other’s eyes for a long time before he dipped his head and brushed his lips across mine. I let out a soft moan as I felt his lips pressing against mine and the soft tip of his tongue lightly licking my upper lip. He ran his fingers through my hair as he lazily teased my lips.

  I could feel the blood coursing through my veins as I gripped his hand and returned his kisses. I arched my back to press my body against his and felt his hand move to the small of my back, where he played with the hem of my tank top before sliding underneath it and stroking my skin. I gasped as I felt his hand on my bare skin, and pressed my lips more insistently against his. He pulled back just enough to keep the kisses light and teasing, and I groaned. I wanted so much more than this morning tease and I could already tell he did, too, as I felt his thick shaft pressed against my thigh as it swelled and grew harder.

  I smiled when he sighed deeply, and opened my eyes to look directly into his. In an instant, I knew he had ceded control, and I shifted so that I could sit up and look down at him as I slipped my hand into his boxers and grasped his cock. His eyes widened as I began slowly moving my hand up and down, then withdrawing my hand. I held his gaze as I brought it up to my mouth and ran it across my tongue several times, coating it in my saliva before slipping it back under his boxers and stroking more insistently now.

  “Oh, God,” he groaned as my slippery hand slid up and down over and over.

  “No, not God, just me,” I whispered in his ear seconds before I let go of his cock and yanked his boxers down. Brian watched me as I quickly slipped out of my pajamas and straddled his abdomen.

  “Oh, shit,” he whispered in awe. “You are incredibly beautiful and unbelievably sexy.”

  “Well, thank you,” I smiled as I gripped his upper arms and began sliding myself down his body so that his cock was positioned between my outer lips, then I began slowly moving back and forth as I coated his cock with the wetness that was already freely flowing from between my legs. Brian held his breath as he felt me using him as a tool of masturbation, but I wasn’t letting him off that easily or that quickly.

  I reached down between my legs and grabbed ahold of his rock-hard shaft and teased my clit a little as I bent down and kissed him deeply. That forced a moan from Brian’s lips as he looked up at me with eyes full of desire and need.

  “You want it, don’t you?” I whispered into his lips.

  “God, yes,” he groaned. “I’ve never wanted anything more!”

  “Mmmmm,” I murmured as I continued my teasing. “Maybe I should give it to you, then?”

  “Yes, Ava, please! Please!” he begged as he pushed his hips up, looking for a way inside my warm, wet pussy.

  I smiled as I firmly gripped his cock, guided it to the edge of my needy entry, and then slid down fast and hard. Brian gasped as he felt me envelop the length of his cock in one swift stroke, and then lay still as I began to rock back and forth on it. I could feel the tip pressing against my G-spot as I moved my hips, and I pressed my hands against his chest to give myself better leverage. Brian did his best to resist slamming his hips upward, but he couldn’t stop himself from giving in to the small upward thrusts that quickly began to push me to the edge of orgasm. With my hand between my legs, stroking my clit, I rocked back and forth, feeling his thickness filling me.

  I leaned forward and kissed him just as I reached the point of no return, and whispered, “Yes” into his lips.

  Brian reached around me and grabbed my ass so that he could thrust hard and deep as I came hard on his cock. I cried out as he slammed into to me once, twice, three times, and then let out a deep moan that came from somewhere deep inside him as he stayed buried inside me as he released all the tension and need that had built up throughout the week.

  After we’d both returned to earth, we lay still, connected on the bed, me on top and him underneath, just holding each other. I wanted to tell him how much I’d missed this, but instead, I lifted my head and kissed his lips softly; hoping that he’d understand.

  *****

  We lay tangled up in each other for a long time, and then, in a moment of impulsiveness, I said, “Tell me about your family. What are your parents like? I haven’t seen you calling them any more frequently than I’ve called mine now that I think about it.”

  “That’s different,” he said quietly. “There’s a reason for it. It’s just…complicated.”

  “Oh, yes, I’m sorry,” I said sarcastically. “My family dynamic is so simplistic and basic that I forgot that other people’s families are really complex.”

  “Ava, don’t,” he cautioned. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Sure it is,” I said. “That’s exactly what you meant, and I resent it.”

  “Ava, don’t ruin this, please?” he sighed heavily.

  “I’m not ruining it,” I retorted. “I’m asking you a personal question that you are refusing to answer. I’ve told you everything about my life. Everything about my parents, about my grandmother, about my relationship with Dominic, and now I’m asking you to reciprocate.”

  Brian sighed again as he pulled me closer and played with my hair. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew he was thinking about what I’d said. After a few minutes I felt him shift, then grab my arms and slide me off of him onto the bed next to him so that he could prop his head on his bent arm and run his hand over my naked body as he spoke.

  “My family is messed up, I’m going to warn you in advance,” he said warily. When I nodded solemnly, he continued. “My father died when I was a baby. My mother never actually told me what happened, but there were rumors that spread around town and I heard them all. Some said he jumped off the water tower in the middle of town on a dare while drunk, and some said he smashed his car into a brick wall while driving drunk. You get the picture…my dad was a drunk.”

&
nbsp; I reached out and held his hand for a moment without saying a word. Brian nodded slightly and continued, “My mom and I were alone for what felt like a really long time, but it was really only about three or four years. She waited tables at a local diner, and neighbors took care of me while she was at work. It wasn’t bad, and I don’t remember us having any big problems, but then I was what, 4?” He laughed a little and I smiled up at him as he remembered.

  “Then one day my mom came home and said I was going to have a new dad. Two days later, Will moved in. He was a tall guy, a former Army sergeant who loved order and rules, and his guns. God, the man loved his guns more than anything on earth. They scared the hell out of my mother, but Will told her not to be such a fraidy cat and took her out to the range to learn to shoot. She did it a few times, but she always came back swearing she’d never hold another gun again. Will was nice to me, he took me fishing and camping, and played ball with me, but about a year after he moved in, my mom gave birth to my sister and nothing was ever the same again. The sun rose and set on Claudia, and she was the cutest baby ever. I loved having a little sister, she was sunshine and love.” He stopped for a moment and bowed his head so that I couldn’t see his face. When he looked up again, it was obvious that there was a lot of deep emotion buried beneath the surface. I lay quietly as Brian continued to trace patterns on my naked skin, and after a minute or two, he continued speaking.

  “I was 12 the year that Claudia turned 6, and we threw a huge party for her in our backyard. Balloons, cake, games, the whole nine yards. There were at least 50 kids at the party, and at some point we lost track of where Claudia was. Will told me to find her and bring her back to the party. None of us were worried because Claudia had a habit of drifting off and finding adventure or a new friend, but in our town, that wasn’t dangerous. Everyone knew who we were and someone always brought Claudia back home safe and sound. I scoured the entire block, but I couldn’t find her anywhere, so I headed back to the house to see if she’d come home before I expanded my search area. As I was headed up the front walk, I heard an incredibly loud bang. I turned to see if Butch Jackson was backing his hot rod out of the driveway across the street, but saw nothing, then I realized that the bang had come from inside our house. I tore up the stairs, ripped open the screen, and ran back to my mom and Will’s bedroom…”