by Lucy Smoke
“This is ludicrous.” She sits back with a huff, crossing her arms over her chest and sniffling again, one foot tapping underneath the table.
My eyes drift of their own accord to her crossed arms, and I flashback to last night—to her standing in her living room, wearing only her thin nightgown and her nipples, which I could very clearly see, saluting me in the chilly air. I have the sudden urge to want to see them again. I envision picking her up by her waist and laying her on top of the table we are sitting at. I’d reach down and grasp her sweater with both hands, tearing it open down the middle, and there her breasts would be, beautiful and perfect and mine.
Holy fuck, what am I even thinking right now? I’m not a caveman.
I never even had thoughts like that about my fiancée. God rest her wandering soul. No, she’s not dead, just dead to me.
“There’s no reason we should even be doing this. It’s not something associated with Christmas. I blame you.” She looks at me with a pout and jabs her pen my way.
I want to lean forward and rub my thumb along that lower lip of hers, feel it on my skin.
“You blame me?” I raise my eyebrows in surprise.
“Yes, or do you suddenly have amnesia? You sat right here in this room and told me to ‘let him do it.’ So, I did, and now, we have this to worry about. I mean, what are they even racing for? The honor of being the fastest alpaca in Clarissa Cove? I doubt they care. They only want to steal toboggans with their filthy mouths and eat them.”
“Whoa, sounds like you are a little upset about losing your hat.”
“It was my favorite toboggan. Our boutique doesn’t carry them anymore.”
She looks sad, and it sends a pang through my heart. I’m not sure why; it’s just a hat. But Milly seems really connected to it.
“I had a thought about the racing aspect—or rather, the reason behind it.” I sit forward and smile, taking another sip of my coffee while she grumbles into hers and pulls out a tissue from her pocket before sneezing. “Are you sure you don’t need to go back to bed?” I want to sweep her up and place her there myself—and maybe climb in beside her and cuddle. Only cuddle. I’m not a complete animal.
“I’m fine. Out with it. What is your good reason for a Christmastime alpaca race?”
“Well, first things first. You really shouldn’t discount the idea. It’s different, unique, and we can market it. I think it will be good for our little town’s economy. But secondly, I think we should do it like a sort of raffle. We can number the alpacas, have people pick one, and whoever picks the number of the winning alpaca, their name goes in a pot for a grand prize. It will be fun, and I think everyone will get into it.”
“Are you charging money for these tickets?” She raises her eyebrows. “We don’t have a grand prize figured into our budget.”
“I didn’t think about that aspect of it. I was thinking from more of a participation view and bringing more people in. Don’t you think it will put them off to have to pay for each ticket?”
“Not if it’s only a dollar or so.” She nods and sticks the end of her pen in her mouth, chewing as she glances down at what she’s written. “I think you might be on to something.” She looks back up at me, a twinkle in her eye. “But we will have to talk to Edward about materials for the barrier.” She frowns a little at that and pointedly looks at me.
“Oh no. Nope. I’ve already had to deal with him once.” I throw my hands up and lean back, the chair going up on two legs as I slightly back away from her. I do not want a repeat performance of that particular encounter.
“Too bad. Your idea, your problem.” She smiles brightly, and I groan.
Again, I’m not sure what I’ve gotten myself into with this girl, but it seems I’m about to go to drastic measures to please her.
“This has been a good meeting, I think.” She hands me another piece of paper and stands, pulling her jacket on and then gathering her stuff and shoving it into her large purse. “You only have three things today. Should be pretty easy. And we are ahead of schedule, so if you want to wait on the hardware stop, you can.”
I nod, looking down at my list. Easy is a relative term. Talking to Peter about his alpacas, easy. Talking to Edward, not easy. I reach up to rub my jaw and feel Milly’s eyes on me.
“What?” I ask, looking up and meeting her gaze.
“Thank you. For helping. I don’t think I could have done all of this without you.”
She lays her hand on my shoulder, squeezing it for a moment, and I reach up without thinking, capturing it beneath mine, wrapping my thumb under her palm, and holding it there. We both freeze, and when I hear a small gasp come from her, the sound shoots straight to my dick.
What are you doing?
I release her hand, and she draws it back, holding it against her chest like I burned her, as she looks at me before whirling and rushing toward the exit.
Well, that went well.
I’m not even sure what that was supposed to be. With the moment we had in the pen with the alpacas and now here, these thoughts I’m having, these feelings that surface when I’m around her, they are intense. I don’t remember my feelings developing this quickly with my ex.
I down the rest of my coffee and stand. Sighing, I shrug my jacket on and head to my Jeep. Time to get a start on the day. I think I might be regretting my bright idea.
The next day, I’m standing at the front of Edward’s Hardware, definitely regretting my bright idea.
“You want to do what?” Edward growls.
It’s a wonder how he stays open with his super-unfriendly demeanor and the way he acts like every customer who walks through his door is his least favorite person in the world. Or maybe it’s just me he dislikes. I need to ask Milly. Maybe this is some sort of hazing ritual for all the new festival director initiates.
“I need you to recommend some materials to build a barrier for the alpaca race.”
“How long are we talking? And what’s the time frame? I assume you want me to build it?”
He hooks a thumb into his chest and lifts a bottle to his mouth, spitting into it. I fight the urge to curl my lip in disgust.
“It’ll have to be after the nativity renovations. The Lord’s work comes before your silly notions.” He looks at me squarely and spits again.
Lord Jesus, give me all the patience.
I’m going to murder Milly if I make it out of here alive.
“I just need the materials. I can work on building the barrier.” I don’t break Edward’s stare as he scoffs and then chuckles, turning into full-blown laughter.
“You? When have you ever lifted a finger? I figured you didn’t know how to tie your shoelaces.”
“My maid does it for me,” I deadpan back and place my hands on the counter. “Look, Edward, I just need you to point me in the direction of the best materials for the job. I’ll take care of all the rest.”
With a grunt, Edward opens his section of the counter, walking through it and shutting it behind him.
“Follow me.”
He starts walking without checking to make sure I’m following, and we head to the very back of the store, where he lays his hand on some rolled-up fencing.
“This here is your best bet,” he says, eyeing me again. “Not much assembly required, and I have a ton of it. Let me know if I need to order some more. Soon. Don’t wait until the last minute like you children like to do.” He grunts again, spits in his cup, and heads back to the front of the store.
Lovely man.
I pick up the first roll and head outside with it, making trips back and forth until I have as much in the back of my Jeep as I can fit. Edward’s beady little eyes watch me the entire time, and I’m glad when I’m done.
“Just put it on the tab for the festival,” I tell him.
He nods, scratching something down on a piece of paper as he continues to stare at me.
“All right, well, I’m going. Thanks.”
For nothing.
“Do
come back now,” he says as the door swings shut, and I hear the sarcasm lacing his tone.
He has it out for me; I’m just not sure why.
I check the list and complete my other tasks, choosing to go home and get some of my work done. I’ve been spending entirely too much of my focus on preparations for this festival, and my actual job has suffered from unanswered emails and unreturned phone calls. I would ask myself why, but I know why. It’s the push and pull, the attraction, the emotions I feel when I’m with Milly. I never thought I would find someone else who intrigues me, but I can definitely say Milly does.
The next two days, I don’t see Milly much, busy doing my stuff for the festival and then returning home to get caught up on my work.
I went to a university in London and then started a job with my best friend, Dean, at his father’s financial firm before my life went to shit. We had a plan to work together, and when I left, I know it really threw him off. Now on my own, I’ve had to find my way in the cutthroat business of finance in America. Thank goodness for my father’s connections.
Once home, I answer emails, return calls, and get my life back in order before diving into the pool to let off some steam. Milly’s face is in my mind with each stroke, and I would grin if my face wasn’t underwater half of the time. I don’t need to choke on water when I live here alone. Miss Alison, my housekeeper, would have a heart attack if she found me at the bottom of the pool.
I think about the few days Milly and I have left to finish preparations, and my heart sinks. I don’t want to let Milly go so soon. But she hasn’t shown me that she wants to be anything more than friends. Now that I think about it, neither have I.
I jump out of the pool and wrap a towel around my waist. Grabbing my phone, I wipe the water droplets that fall onto it with my thumb, only succeeding in smearing water around. I groan in frustration at the extra effort it takes to dry my hands and phone off before I can unlock it. It’s been a while since I’ve asked someone out, and my heart is racing as I find her name in my Contacts. This has to be done properly. I can’t text her.
The blood rushing through my head keeps time with each ring as I hold the phone to my ear. I’m about to give up when it clicks, and I hear Milly’s voice.
“Hello?”
7
Milly
“Milly? It’s Evan.”
I hold the phone with my shoulder while I finish tying the bows on the pastry boxes that will be filled with all sorts of delicious carb-laden treats for the bake sale at the exhibit hall. My knees ache with how long I’ve been perched on the cold floor of the bakery, the smell of sweets in the air making my stomach growl.
“I know,” I say with a smile. “I have caller ID.”
He pauses for a moment, and I’m afraid I might have offended him, but then he finally speaks, “Right. Would you want to come and eat dinner with me tonight?”
I stop, grabbing the phone before it falls as I bring my head up. “Do I want to eat dinner with you? Like, at a restaurant?”
“Or at my house. We could maybe have a sort of business date?”
“A sort of business date?” I parrot back, and there’s a long pause again.
“Yes, unless you just want it to be a business dinner, no date involved.”
I grin. Evan is asking me on a date.
What is going on?
I wasn’t even sure the guy felt anything toward me. Except for that strange moment in the alpaca pen. But that seems like ages ago now.
“No, um … yes. A date sounds good. To go over business.” I try to keep my tone even-keeled and not sound too excited.
“Great. What would you like for dinner?”
“Something simple. I could pick something up and bring it?”
“No, you shouldn’t have to bring food for our date.”
“Are you going to cook?” I lean my head back over, capturing the phone as I go back to tying bows, suddenly wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible so I can move on with my evening, exciting new plans and all.
“Let me see what I have in the kitchen,” he says.
I hear a shuffle and assume he’s walking toward the kitchen.
“Damn it.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m getting water all over the floor.”
“Water?” I wrinkle my nose in confusion and giggle.
“Yes, I was swimming.”
“Didn’t you dry off?”
“Some. Now, let’s see. I have some leftover Chinese—”
“Pass,” I say with a laugh.
He scoffs, “It is only the highest-quality leftover Chinese.”
“I don’t doubt that.”
“The only other thing I have is stuff to make a sandwich. I haven’t been grocery shopping.” Regret sounds in his voice, and I smile.
“A sandwich sounds nice. Believe it or not, I haven’t had a well-made, regular old sandwich in a while. Can’t be too fancy for a business date, right?”
“Right,” he says with relief.
I feel tingles go through me. This excitement might rival Ms. Potts asking me to direct the Christmas Festival, and as everyone should know by now, that was a pretty damn exciting day.
“Do you want me to pick you up?”
“No, silly. I’ll be there at”—I pull my phone away to check the time. I need to be able to go home and change out of these clothes that are covered in glitter from my ribbon—“seven with bells on.”
“I’ll hear you then.”
He laughs, and I giggle, sounding like a teenager, even to my ears.
“Milly? Are you done with the bows?” Janet’s voice sounds from the other room, and I jump, pulling the phone away from my ear, completely forgetting that I’m not here by myself.
“Almost done,” I tell her and then put the phone back. “Evan? I’ve got to go. See you tonight.”
“Can’t wait,” he says, and my heart melts. For maybe the first time.
Pulling up to Evan’s house, which is right next door to my parents’ house, is strange. I’ve seen it my entire life, but I’ve never been this close to it, and I’ve never been invited inside.
Evan opens the front door and rushes down the steps, opening my car door before I can even attempt to do it myself.
“Hello,” he says breathlessly.
His smile lights his entire face, and I take it in.
“Hi,” I say back.
We pause, and a slightly awkward moment comes between us before I laugh and break the tension.
“Ready to go in?” he asks, standing back so I can exit the car.
I nod and follow him up the steps, only stopping right inside the door where he takes my bag and jacket from my shoulders and puts it on a coatrack right next to the front door. An honest-to-God coatrack.
“It’s quite a large house for one person.” I glance around, looking at the ornate banister leading up to the second floor right in front of me.
The rug beneath my feet is plush and a rich mahogany color, seeming to meld with the hardwood floor where they meet. The picture frames on the wall are gold and flowery, depicting a family photo of a much younger Evan with freckles dotting his nose. His parents sternly standing behind him.
“Yes, I mainly stay in my room, the kitchen, or the pool.” Evan shrugs, walking down the hall and disappearing into a room to the left.
I follow him and step into the kitchen where he’s pulling out stuff to make a sandwich. I stop beside the table, noting how stiff everything looks and feels. Not like a home should be. There’s nothing personal set around, no knickknacks or things that could show someone’s personality. The counters and floors and windows are spotless, clean enough to eat off of. If I didn’t know any better, I would say that no one lived here at all.
“So, did you enjoy growing up here, in this house?”
“I don’t know if enjoy is the right word, but I wasn’t here long. My parents shipped me off to boarding school in Europe when I was thirteen.”
I nod because I knew that. We went to elementary and middle school together, and then suddenly, he was just gone.
“Did you like boarding school?”
“It was okay. Do you want mayonnaise on your sandwich?”
“I can make my sandwich, Evan. You don’t have to serve me.”
“I’m not serving you. I was already making me one, so it’s not a big deal. Just let me do something for you for once. Now, do you want mayonnaise?”
“No, thank you. Just mustard.”
I grin at his back, enjoying watching him stand at the counter and slather condiments on bread. The way his shoulders move makes me ache to run my finger across them and down his chest and his stomach before hooking it in his pants.
“Why did you move back? Why not stay wherever you were before?” I watch his back stiffen, and I immediately regret asking.
He continues fixing the sandwiches in silence. He grabs some plates and cups, adding a small pile of chips to each plate as he separates them.
I walk up beside him and lay my hand on his arm closest to me. “Hey. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep.”
He looks over at me, and there’s something in his eyes that makes me pause. It almost looks like sadness.
“Do you want to see my favorite part of this house?” he asks suddenly.
I withdraw my hand, nodding as he picks up the plates. I grab the cups, running them under the tap water, and then follow him out of the kitchen. He stops by a closet and opens it. He sets the plates down on one shelf and pulls out several blankets, throwing them over his arm. Then, he picks the sandwiches back up, and we head up the stairs.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
He glances over his shoulder at me. “You’ll see.”
He gives me a soft smile, and I grin back. I usually hate surprises, but maybe Evan will be the one to change my mind. I find myself not caring as much to know all the details of everything when I’m around him. Except for his story. I want to know everything I can about him, which is surprising. I’ve never cared that much about hearing a guy talk, even the ones I’ve dated. Maybe they were right to break up with me. I have been pretty selfish with my time, but Evan is bringing out another side of me. One that can throw caution to the wind and live in the moment, and I never saw myself doing that, so maybe I don’t always know what’s best.
