by Sosie Frost
I wanted someone who understood.
“You are a dangerous woman.” My lips curled over her bud, suckling to draw out her delight. “So delicious. You’re the only joy I’ve felt in years, my only weakness.”
She groaned. “Why do you fear being happy, V?”
“Because I don’t deserve it.”
Glory stroked my hair. Her body twisted, trembled, sweated. She was close. Fighting it. “What’s the real reason?”
I closed my eyes. “Because I don’t feel it.”
“Feel what?”
“Anything.”
And this moment would be my last temptation.
What I did wasn’t for her. It was for me. The only way to break the spell forever. One last glimpse into the depravity of hope that was Glory if only to break my addiction.
If I wanted to help the church, if I wanted to protect my congregation, I couldn’t let this woman devour me. It had to end before I lost the ability to save them.
Just like I’d lost the ability to save myself.
I curled my tongue over her, suckled hard, and licked until her body tensed. Glory fell against the desk, the paint staining papers and books. She didn’t care. Her body arched, skin heated, and a sweet cream warmed my tongue.
I was blessed enough to witness the most beautiful moment in the world.
She came, shuddering, crying out in a holy harmony with my own groan. Her hands tangled in my hair, and her hips bucked against my lips. Every shudder, every warmth rewarded me with her sweet release.
But she didn’t relax. She didn’t crumble into the delighted weakness I’d hoped. She pulled me closer, tangled her hands in my shirt.
And she begged for a kiss.
But I couldn’t let her get that close.
Couldn’t let her see.
I’d already ruined so much.
“Forgive me.” My words broke over my own shame. “I had to taste you one last time.”
I didn’t let her answer. I staggered from the room, slamming the door behind me.
Banishing her from my mind forever.
Ripping her from my soul.
But without prayer, without a miracle, how was I to remove her from my heart?
8
Glory
A flash mob of caroling preschoolers promoting a Christmas pageant would have killed in Ironfield.
Unfortunately, a flash mob of caroling preschoolers promoting a Christmas pageant might’ve been lethal in Butterpond.
The EMTs promised Mrs. Wilcox would be perfectly fine, and that they were only taking her to the hospital for observation. That did not alleviate the fears of one dozen preschoolers who had assembled under the pretense of songs and cookies, not angina and broken hips.
The idea was simple. Gather the kids. Welcome Santa to Butterpond. Crash the monthly meeting.
That was before I realized who attended Butterpond’s municipal meetings.
The average age of Butterpond was higher than I anticipated. I’d brought candy canes when I should have handed out cholesterol medication. A little Viagra wouldn’t have hurt either. I wasn’t quite sure how to entertain men who had lost their Christmas spirit, but something told me I’d need a hell of a lot more than mistletoe to liven up these Scrooges.
Fortunately, I had help.
Varius volunteered his brother, Marius, to play Santa.
And by volunteer, Marius had offered to suit up as Santa as long as we dusted his campaign trail with enough snow to sleigh ride his way into public office.
Politics aside, I wasn’t entirely sure how we were going to fit the Navy SEAL into his costume. Marius was built differently from his brother. The veteran was strong, imposing, and a mountain of muscle. But whatever had happened to him overseas, whatever had taken his leg, had nearly destroyed the man. And for that, V seemed to understand him the most. Then again, the entire Payne family seemed familiar with tragedy. Their family farm had battled bankruptcies, abandonment, fires, and deaths.
Marius struggled with a new identity outside of the military. Tidus took solace in the bottom of a bottle. Quint flirted, raging through town with a different woman every night, never settling down. And Julian shouldered the responsibility of the farm like it was a punishment.
I’d learned enough about the Paynes and Butterpond to realize the common denominator.
Varius.
It wasn’t just the church and pageant that needed their minister. His family was lost without him, struggling with their own problems and addictions and fears. If only he believed how much he might’ve helped them.
Or me, once upon a time.
But now? All I wanted for Christmas was to get that man out of my head.
And heart.
And I needed to do it soon. A dozen toddlers danced outside the Township building, begging for a potty break. Lulu had refused to eat her chicken nuggets, even though it was her favorite food, and voiced her displeasure while screaming in my ear.
I had ten minutes to interrupt an official meeting and advertise a pageant that didn’t even have an ending yet, and I was doing it without my partner in the production.
Christ only knew where Varius had gone, but I refused to worry about him. I’d wasted enough time on that man, given enough of myself to him, and fantasized about enough things that would land us both in Hell.
If he was ghosting me again, the least he could do was throw on a couple of chains and help Jacob Marley for our Christmas Carol portion of the pageant.
Tidus claimed he was helping Marius with his costume. Seemed to me he was using Santa’s bag to smuggle a flask into the monthly meeting.
“Glory, I don’t think you know what’s gonna happen when you step through those doors.” Tidus offered the warning with a wink. “You’re not ready for Butterpond.”
Gretchen struggled to stuff a pillow over Marius’s washboard abs. “Shush, Tidus. They behave themselves if there are preschoolers present.”
Who was really in danger—the meeting room filled with Butterpond’s most concerned aged citizens or the dozen tantruming preschoolers, tripping over toilet paper angel robes while they beat themselves senseless with their pipe cleaner halos?
And Lulu was no help. She squirmed in my arms, kicking, fighting, and attempting a Houdini-like escape. I could unleash a squad of ankle biters into the meeting room, but no one in Butterpond was prepared for Lulu once she set her mind on destruction.
“Tree!” My daughter managed to flip upside down and point to shrubs lining the sidewalk, all lit up with white LEDs. “Lulu tree!”
“For the last time, Lulu…” I wrestled her into my arms before she dove headfirst into the lights. “You can’t play in the Christmas trees!”
She pouted with an ear-piercing shriek. To her credit, it was in tune. More than I could say for the preschoolers.
“Tree!” Lulu kicked. “Tree!”
Tidus watched with amusement. “So, whose idea was this idiocy—you or the preacher?”
“Mine.”
“Makes sense.”
Lulu screeched again, bubbling a few syllables about snow or toes. One could never be sure.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
Tidus shrugged, glancing over the herd of children rampaging in the bushes in front of the municipal building. He could look all he wanted, but he wouldn’t find V. No one could find the jackass.
And I wasn’t about to start looking.
Not now.
Not ever.
My stomach pitted.
Well…maybe in an hour. If no one had seen him.
“Means you still have faith in something,” Tidus said. “V lost his a long time ago.”
Was I supposed to pity him? All those contemplative, sanctimonious confessions weren’t meant to ease his soul. He’d played me. Again. And like an idiot, I’d let him get close enough to push me over the brink of insanity. He’d whispered every desire I shared, exposed my every vulnerability, and rewarded me with a pleasure only he could pr
ovide.
And then he left.
Again.
Had he been any other man, I would’ve thought it were a power-play. Some sort of sadistic declaration of his dominance over my body and feelings. Like he wanted to watch me breathless and panting, begging for his touch, his kiss, just the barest hint of his soul.
But Varius wasn’t any other man. Nothing he did was meant to harm or humiliate. He’d acted honestly, as if he took his pleasure from my own and then apologized for using me to appease his own selfishness. He’d wanted one last moment with me.
But I craved more than a moment with him. And that was why he was so damn dangerous for me. I never should have let him get under my skin, let alone my clothes. For years, I’d danced and entertained lust crazed men, and I’d been in control every single moment, earning enough money to provide for my baby. Never once had I allowed any man to get so close.
Especially after Andre.
Especially after I knew what men like Andre were capable of doing.
Gretchen grabbed Marius by the pants, unbuckling his belt.
He hollered, nearly fell over, and hissed a chastisement. “Fuck, sweetness. There're kids here!”
Marius yanked the oversized red velvet pants away from Gretchen.
She fluffed the pillows she’d attempted to stuff around his midsection. “You have to look jolly.”
“If you stuff my crotch with that pillow, we’re not going to get elected, we’re gonna get arrested.”
Gretchen arched an eyebrow. “Maybe that’s how we secure the female vote?”
“Easy woman. You’re getting a little underhanded.”
“Well, you know just how good I am with my hands.”
Tidus pointed to the two of them and grunted. “And they’re one of the reasons this town needs to drink.”
“I could use a shot about now.”
He offered me the flask. I considered taking it, realized I was surrounded by a dozen children and a handful of ladies from the church, and handed it back before rumors spread and reputations were damaged.
Besides…
What could be worse than a pageant director drinking on the job?
Except the pageant director swooning for the town minister?
Varius emerged from the darkness, zipping his coat as he approached the mass of children, screaming, dancing, and irritated churchgoers. Most of them waved, attempting to earn his smile.
He waved, but he didn’t look at the children. Like he couldn’t bear even the tiniest glance. The stress etched into his face, his tense jaw, the stormy green of his eyes.
My heart broke for him.
Was being around a child that difficult for him?
Didn’t have time to ask. Lulu swung into my arms. She had a habit now of mimicking my facial expressions, but resting bitchy face didn’t translate well to a toddler. She pouted—her cheeks puffed, lip fat, and eyebrows wiggling to get just grumpy enough.
Us girls had to stick together.
“Bastard V!” Lulu cried loud enough for everyone to hear. “Hi!”
Close enough. Tidus and Marius cracked up, but I only groaned.
Of course she would pick up that word.
“Pastor, Lulu,” I said. “Pastor.”
“Bastard!”
I frowned. “Nice of you to show up, Pastor V. I only called like…twenty times.”
Tidus gave us a wink. “Twenty-five.”
A stern glance from Varius silenced his brother. “This is a bad idea, Glory.”
A lot of things were bad ideas, but they made life whimsical and unpredictable. A girl needed a little complication if bloodshed wasn’t permitted in a church.
“Maybe if you’d joined me today…” My voice hardened. “Maybe if you’d been considerate enough to talk to me and work through these things, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“You’re not ready yet,” Varius said.
For what? A conversation? The goddamned truth?
Or wasn’t I ready for a half-assed monthly meeting in a backassward town that got its panties twisted when someone double-parked in a handicapped spot outside the local grocery store on coupon day?
“I’ve just spent the entire day wrangling a dozen four-year-olds. Fitting them with costumes. Applying Band-Aids. Breaking up fights. Distributing milk. Teaching them songs, all while managing the wisemen’s tap dance, Rudolph’s solo, and tracking down a pair of pants for Santa—”
Lulu clapped her hands with a grin. “Panta!”
Varius flinched as she coo’ed an excited squeal. His eyes darkened, and he averted his stare.
Jesus, what was wrong with this man?
“I’ve been sneezed on, pee’d on, and kicked…” I nodded toward my daughter. “Most of that was Lulu’s fault, but my day was not easy without someone there to help me get this promotion rolling. V, we have no other way to advertise this pageant—every last penny is going to newspaper ads in Ironfield. I needed you here today.”
Just like I’d needed him last night before he left me confused, exhausted, and even angrier at myself than before.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Sorry?” I shifted Lulu onto my hip. She watched eagerly as Gretchen, Marius, Tidus, and two of the church ladies pretended to offer privacy. “You owe me more than that.”
And he knew it. So why didn’t it get through to him? Why didn’t he understand what he did to me, what he did to himself?
“I owe you a lot of things,” he said. “But I can’t give you this.”
“What the hell is wrong with you, V?”
“Age-old question,” Tidus snorted.
“Are you running again?” I asked. “Is that it? Is this some half-hearted goodbye?”
“What do you want from me?” He eyed the crowd, his family, and the baby with a frown. “All I wanted was to…get you in the holiday spirit.”
Oh, was that what he was doing? Here I thought he’d blinded me in utter ecstasy with lips that were wasted in prayer, then decided to do the cowardly thing and ghost me again because he couldn’t handle the thought of getting close to someone.
Silly me.
I narrowed my eyes. “Yeah. You’re great at decking those halls, but you already knew that.”
“It’s the giving season, Glory.”
“Right. And you’re all about jingling the right bells.”
He frowned. “I thought you’d appreciate a little holiday joy.”
“Yeah, well…when a girl hears Oh Come All Ye Faithful?” I cleared my throat. “She assumes all the faithful will join the celebration.”
His voice lowered, and he dragged me further from his family. Not that it did much good. The municipal offices were surrounded by children, lights, and anatomically correct snowmen that Gretchen circumcised as she tried to save Christmas sensibilities.
Varius rubbed his face. “Are you actually upset that I…Wished You a Merry Christmas the other night?”
“You left before I could give you a Happy New Year.”
The bastard dared to argue with me. “If I had known you’d get this Frosty about it—”
“Is it wrong that I thought we’d Deck The Halls together?”
“You know every night with you is holy—”
“I trusted you, V.”
“I know.”
“Never again.”
He sighed. “Glory—”
I swallowed a dozen profanities aimed mostly for myself. “Next time you want to warm your chestnuts, roast them in your own fire.”
“Wait—”
“And the worst part?” I ignored the ache crushing my chest. “I knew better. And I still…came Home For Christmas. Well, it ends now.”
“Now!” Lulu mimicked me with a coo.
I dared to meet his gaze and instantly regretted the warmth that pooled in my belly. “Once this pageant is done…”
He said nothing, damning me in silence and twisting my soul into a knot so big it caught in my throat.
Why w
as this so hard? I just needed to end it, to get over him, to forget the tingling, heart-pounding excitement I’d felt in his arms.
But his touch wasn’t a pleasure I could forget.
His words weren’t promises I could ignore.
And our lust-crazed nights together weren’t mistakes I could forgive.
My heart was already lost, broken then re-forged, only to be shattered once more. At least I was getting good at hauling myself out of the dirt.
I set my jaw, looking beyond Varius to a half-dressed Santa Claus, a dozen angels wrestling in the dirt, and a set of increasingly worried pageant players suddenly realizing that the production might not have been as perfect as they thought.
We only had three weeks until the production.
Three weeks near Varius—working with him, talking with him, sharing late nights with him…
I’d survived worse.
Much worse.
I sighed. “Please Christmas, Don’t Be Late.”
Lulu giggled as I hauled her back to the flock of pageanters. She shrieked with me as I whistled for their attention.
“Everyone, get in line.” I called to the kids. “No—please, halos on your heads, shoes on your feet…”
Gretchen took over, ordering her dog, Ambrose, to herd the wayward children closer to the production. The Border Collie worked better than the promise of cookies and coloring books, and I managed to wrangle most of the pageant into order.
Except Varius.
Without a word, he slipped into the township building, hopefully scanning the meeting for the best time to interrupt the proceedings for a chance at some holiday magic.
Tidus offered me the flask once more. I declined with a sigh.
“You have no idea…” I said. “Is your brother always so damned frustrating?”
“Usually he likes Christmas carols a bit more.”
Marius grimaced as Gretchen attempted to adjust a fake Santa’s beard over his face, inadvertently snapping the elastic band over his nose.
“Nothing’s gonna fix V but V,” Marius said. “He’s gotta work his shit out himself. Find his faith again.”
Tidus shrugged. “Tough with that whole crippling PTSD.”
