The Knight Before Christmas: A Mountain Man Holiday Short Story

by Hill , Sierra

  “Anyway, thanks again, Anders. Have yourself a Merry Christmas.”

  I stare after her mutely, not offering any form of goodbye or returned holiday sentiment and watch as she closes the door, slowly trudging through the thick snow, her arms weighted down with bags and totes, toward the front door. I probably should have offered to help her carry things inside, and if my mother learns I didn’t, she would tan my hide good, even though I’m a thirty-two-year-old man.

  But because I’m not completely lacking of any chivalry, I don’t drive away just yet and instead keep the headlights on and directed toward the house, giving her some much needed light in this deep wooded, moonlit night to unlock the front door.

  I’m not sure what she’s doing or what’s taking so long, but she finally throws her hands up in the air and shouts up into the sky above, loud enough to spook the deer who have now scurried off in a panic.

  I heave an exasperated groan because it sure sounds like I’m not going to be getting out of here anytime soon when I hear what she screams.

  “Damn you, Hayden Stone! You mother effer!”

  Chapter 3

  Ivy

  I stomp off the front porch and back through the heavy, snow-packed walkway to Anders’s truck. I’m cold, angry, without transportation of my own, and now, without a place to stay for the night.

  Instead of going back to the passenger side, I head toward the driver’s side as he rolls down the window anticipating my approach.

  I dangle the worthless set of keys above my head.

  “These don’t work.”

  Anders growls his response. “Of course, they don’t.”

  I stare at him expectantly, waiting and hoping for him to offer up some form of encouragement or a solution. Maybe offer me a ride back to town. Something! Anything to help ease my frozen nerves and ire over being locked out of the house.

  Instead, his dark navy-blue eyes, almost the color of the sky above us, pins me with a death glare.

  “Well?” he finally says, as I stand rooted in the deepening snow, which accumulates by degrees. “Are you going to call someone who has a set of replacement keys?”

  I spread my arms out wide, bouncing my head right to left with exaggeration, before raising my shoulders and pinching my mouth together.

  “Like who? If I had someone to call don’t you think I’d be somewhere else right now? I. Have. Nobody.”

  As if the words are made of heat from a blazing fire, Anders’s face seems to melt with softness right in front of me, transforming his expression from gruff mountain man, to the Santa Claus in Miracle on 34th Street.

  His voice, however, is still brusque and stern. “Fine. Get back in.”

  There’s only a moment where I think better of it. He’s obviously completely put-out by my presence and for ruining his holiday evening. But then again, he does save stranded motorists for a living. It’s his job and the least he can do for a customer who is apparently paying him double this evening.

  I hurry around the hood of the truck, as Anders leans over the seat bench and opens the door for me. I have to grasp the handle on the hood to hoist myself up into the cab, resetting myself and dusting off the fallen snow, throwing all my bags behind me.

  “Thanks,” I whisper. “I’m sorry to have caused you so much grief tonight. I’m sure you have much better places to be.”

  And then a thought dawns on me.

  What if he has a wife and family he should be with right now? All of them sitting by a warm, cozy fire, singing Christmas carols and drinking eggnog, watching a holiday special on TV, the kids ready to open their gifts under the treat.

  No wonder he’s so grumpy with me.

  I place a hand over my heart and the other on top of his shoulder, my palm cupping over the heavy denim of his jacket. He wrenches away from my touch and it feels like he’s just kicked me in the gut from his impolite reaction.

  “I am so inconsiderate. I’m probably keeping you from enjoying this special night from your family. I’m so sorry. Just take me to town and drop me off at a hotel and I’ll be out of your hair until after the holiday.”

  With a flick of my wrist, I gesture behind us toward the road in which we just came. The road we’d take back into town. Anders, however, rolls his eyes and scoffs. A gesture and sound I’m becoming quite acquainted with.

  “No, I don’t have a family to return to. You met my mother who was at the café. And no, I’m not taking you back into town.”

  I’m surprised by both the content and the quantity of words he speaks, considering it’s the most he’s shared since we met tonight. But then I consider his refusal to take me back into town and I’m about to lose it. Or cry. It’s a toss up.

  “Um, yes, you are going to take me to a hotel. I need a place to stay tonight.”

  His reply is swift and brooks no argument. “I said no. You’re coming home with me.”

  I shake my head. “Yeah, no, I don’t think so. I’m not staying with a stranger tonight. A male stranger, at that.”

  The truck suddenly skids to a stop, the back fishtailing and narrowly missing a snowbank.

  Anders snaps his head to me, eyes dark and moody. “We are not going back into town under these conditions. It’s practically a white out and that five mile stretch down this mountain is not drivable. My place is a quarter mile up the road. It’s either that or you can sleep in my truck. Your call.”

  He leans over me, his masculine scent deliciously tantalizing my senses, and pushes open the door, indicating the way out.

  Perhaps it was the long drive today, or the broken down Jeep, or the fact that it’s Christmas Eve and I have no one to share it with, or that my ex-husband was an ass and locked me out of the home I gained in my unwanted divorce, but Anders’s fuck-all demeanor and surly attitude flips a switch in me.

  And it detonates in an explosion so big, I’m surprised it doesn’t cause an avalanche.

  With both hands, I grab his arm and wrench it off the door handle with a loud, unladylike grunt.

  Then I unbuckle my seat belt, as he stares at me with wide-eyed astonishment, as I shift in my seat and cup his bearded face in my hands, smashing my mouth to his in a crushing and dare-I-say, crazy stupid kiss.

  I mean, here I am, on a dark, deserted mountain road, sitting in a truck with a handsome stranger, kissing the sleigh bells out of him. What in the world has gotten into me?

  There’s only a moment of pause, when Anders seems stunned by my rash decision, but the moment I open my mouth, parting my lips in invitation, his tongue takes a tentative glide over my bottom lip, eliciting a sexy moan from the depths of my throat.

  I’m suddenly airborne, his hands deftly lifting me with his hands at my ass to situate me over his lap, as he leans back, tipping his head to allow me to bend over him and continue our kiss.

  It’s savage and hungry. Delicious and thrilling.

  There’s no room for niceties here. All my pent-up frustration from the days, weeks and month leading up to this moment have led me to doing something I’d never have done in the past.

  Kiss a complete stranger.

  A sexy, bearded stranger who came to my rescue tonight.

  Like some kind of mountain man miracle.

  A Christmas knight-in-shining armor.

  Anders breaks the kiss, his thick thighs moving underneath me, so I get a very indecent glimpse at his package nestled in the V of my crotch. A very big package that seems eager and ready to be opened.

  Our lips remain close, the heavy steam from our breaths fogging the windows, when he murmurs,

  “I’ve never met an honest-to-God Christmas angel. But damn, if you’re not it.”

  And I melt right then and there.

  Chapter 4

  Anders

  Very few things surprise me these days, mostly because I’ve shut down my emotional bank after losing the love of my life three years ago. Or finding out afterwards that she was pregnant with our unborn child.

  Life has
dished me one of the most horrific tragedies any man can withstand and from that I’ve been reborn a solitary, withdrawn asshole, careful to avoid human contact at all costs. Steering clear of conversations that require thought and participation, and most importantly, dodging any form of relationship with a woman.

  I haven’t been with another woman in over three years. I’ve had no desire to get close to anyone, not even for sex. I’ve stayed in my bubble, which included work, eat, sleep, and everything on rinse and repeat ad nauseam. I haven’t gone looking, which is just as well, considering there isn’t much to choose from in Knight’s Falls. But even the few women who’ve seen me around town in the tourist season have stayed away from me on account of my disinterested hostility.

  Except for Ivy. Whether out of desperation or loneliness, fatigue or frustration, she doesn’t even ask if I want it.

  She just takes. And holy shit, I like what she gives.

  I find myself giving it right back tenfold. Giving into her touch. Giving into her candy cane kisses and the electric warmth of her delicate body that chips away at the hard exterior and block of ice inside my heart like an ax, turning me into a crumbling mess.

  Everything that’s been kept locked up for years comes tumbling loose, falling like boulders from the mountaintop, careening off the cliff.

  My body remembers what it needs and how to get back what it wants. I break our kiss once again and stare up into her light green eyes, twinkling with surprise and dancing with eager anticipation. My cock jumps against my zipper, seeking the heat of her pussy.

  “Angel, I’m not going to fuck you here in my truck.”

  It’s like watching a balloon deflate, her wet lips turning into a pout and her shoulders sagging in defeat. She nods, looking away as she wiggles off my lap, maneuvering herself over my legs. But I stop her with my calloused hands at her waist, garnering a look of confusion, her eyebrows disappearing underneath the brim of her hat.

  “That came out wrong,” I acknowledge, running my thumb over her swollen bottom lip. “I’m still going to fuck you. But I’m taking you to my place. Now get your ass over in your seat and buckle up.”

  She giggles a soft mewl before this time hopping off my lap, snapping the buckle secure. From the corner of my eye I see her dip her head in my direction, her eyes locked on my bulging cock. It makes it intensely hard to concentrate as I start the engine and try to maneuver the bends and curves in the mountainside that I’m wholly familiar with, but difficult to manage with a raging hard on.

  I’ve grown up on this mountain. Born and raised and never been anywhere else. It’s my home. It’s also named after my family. Knight’s Mountain. This mountain has brought joy and laughter, loss and sadness throughout generations.

  And right now, it’s brought me an angel I hadn’t expected on this cold, Christmas night.

  * * *

  “Wow, this isn’t what I expected,” Ivy notes with surprise as we step through the front door of my log cabin home that I built with my own two hands, with the help of my father when he was alive.

  I crowd behind her, pressing her forward into the main room so I can shut the front door, swinging her around to face me. My fingers begin swiftly unzipping her coat, as I stare down into her beautiful evergreen gaze.

  “You don’t even know me. What could you have possibly expected?”

  She shrugs off her coat, catching it in her hand and draping it over the back of the chair at the kitchen table.

  Biting the corner of her lip, she peers up at me underneath soft reddish-brown eyelashes, her pert nose scrunching up adorably.

  “Well, it’s very well appointed…not exactly the décor known for mountain men, with all the cute throw pillows and curtains.” She gestures between us, then hooks a thumb at the large bay window behind us, and the shimmery silver curtains Shawna made.

  “My wife’s touch.”

  Ivy’s eyes grow wild, unconsciously taking a giant step back from me, holding her arms out in front of her.

  “You’re married? Oh geez.” Her voice is filled with agonizing panic and terror. “Sorry, I’m not into married men. I got burned by one already.”

  She reaches to grab for her coat but I snag her arm, my thumb pressing gently into the crook of her elbow.

  Suddenly, I feel the loss just as acutely as I did three years ago. The pain that has diminished slightly over time has risen back to the surface like a fiery demon, scratching and clawing its way out. Ripping loose and unearthing itself from where I’ve worked hard to keep it buried.

  Something akin to a vice grips my lungs and chest, squeezing and pummeling the air out of me, as I drop my hand to the back of the couch to hold myself up, trying to drag in air to breathe.

  Ivy places a worried hand on my shoulder. “Anders, are you okay? Are you sick? Talk to me. Tell me what’s happening right now.”

  The room spins and my eyesight blurs, and fuck, I think I’m going to pass out. Careful to keep my hold on the security of the couch, I move to sit, as sweat begins pouring down my face. I remove my cap and jacket and bend forward placing my head between my legs.

  “She’s gone. She’s dead.” My voice is a harsh, bitter croak that doesn’t even sound like my own.

  Well, the bitterness, yes. That’s only increased with ferocity over the last three years.

  This confession stops Ivy in her snow-boot tracks. She was about to bolt but now stands crestfallen in front of me, her expression a mix of pity and something else. Empathy? Understanding?

  Taking tentative steps forward, she lifts a petite hand and cups my beard-lined jaw, her fingertips slipping behind my ear, trailing over the sensitive skin there, inducing shivers down my spine. It’s a touch meant to quiet my inner turmoil, not arouse, only a trace of remaining desire remains behind.

  “Oh, Anders. I’m so sorry for your loss. You must be so heartbroken.”

  Ivy kneels on the floor at my feet, her hands landing on my thighs in a gesture of kindness and comfort. Yet, even so, it restokes the fire inside of me. The yearning for intimacy and wholeness.

  When I lift my eyes to her beautiful face, I notice a sheen of glossy wetness there, which serves to make me feel like a complete idiot for having this poorly timed breakdown in front of her.

  My heart lurches with something I haven’t felt in far too long. A ping of desire, yes, but also a connection. A pull of longing, of excitement, and the ache for female affection.

  As she did before to me, I cup her cheeks, still rosy from the cold, and bring my lips to hers, tasting her and the saltiness of her tears.

  “Ivy, I don’t know what it is, but I believe there’s a reason you’re here tonight. Just your presence alone has made me…” I take her hand and place it over my chest, where she can feel the racing spasms of my once dead, but now clamoring heart. “Alive again.”

  Her smile brightens and she wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me into her, the weight of her breasts pressing heavily into my body, my pulse skyrocketing with need.

  “I feel the same way. Now, perhaps we could finish what we started.”

  Chapter 5

  Ivy

  All my life I’ve always followed the rules and stayed within the lines. I don’t take unnecessary risks and I certainly don’t sleep with men I don’t know.

  But the moment I dared to kiss Anders in the front seat of his truck, something inside my heart unlocked and then clicked into place. A key finding its rightful owner.

  That’s why I know that being here tonight in Anders home, in his bed, is not some random hookup for two lonely hearts on Christmas Eve. It’s something so much stronger, the force of it almost divine and cosmic, written in the stars that shine above. Like someone up there is guiding this union, insisting on the fulfillment of our destiny. Like attracting like.

  Anders shucks off his outerwear, leaving him in a dark blue Henley that matches his navy-blue eyes, the top buttons undone to show a V of dark blond hair at his chest. Leaning in, I can’t help but
trace a line over the cut of the shirt, where my tongue meets his skin and I inhale the spicy male scent of him. A crisp soap fragrance combined with a heavy pine musk.

  My belly meets the heavy bulge between his legs and the weight of it is intoxicating and heady. Anders is a big man, in every way, and he’s already demonstrated that he has a big heart underneath the exterior wall that has been erected for reasons I could never fathom.

  Due to my current position, I make things easy for us both and begin to unbutton his jeans, ridding him of this barrier as he frees himself and I’m staring at the biggest, girthiest cock I’ve ever seen up-close in my life.

  His erection jumps between us as I enclose him in my fist, taking him in my hand and then flicking the tip of my tongue over the massive head of his cock.

  Anders hisses through his clenched teeth. “Ahh, angel. It’s been three years. I’m not sure I can endure much of that.”

  This makes me insanely happy to hear this. To learn that I’m the first woman he’s been with since his late wife.

  “I just want to taste you. Just for a bit.” I don’t give him time to argue as I stretch my lips wide and take him into my mouth.

  The powerful, headiness of his taste overwhelms me, and I hum around him, pumping him in my fist as I do. His body relaxes and tenses, coming alive under my ministrations, as I lavish attention on every sensitive part of his erection. My fingertips graze his balls, already tight in anticipation of release, and my tongue glides over the hard, pulsing vein on the underside of his cock.

  When I circle the sensitive tip with my tongue, Anders jerks back and then forward, grabbing me underneath my arms to lift me in the air as he stands, carrying me down a short hallway into his bedroom with a growl that could scare off any living creature outside this cabin.