I love you. Words I couldn’t say now because she’d think they were part of a trap. She’d claim my truth was a lie.
With Pia faking an interest in the television, I left so she could drink her tea in peace, finding my old sleeping bag in the bottom of the closet. Unrolling it on the bed to check for spiders and I only needed one sniff to remember it had needed airing out after my last camping trip. Yet another regret to add to a day of them.
“What are you doing?” Pia asked, curling her legs out of the way.
“I didn’t want to presume. There’s only one bed, but the lounge—”
“It’s fine.”
“What is?”
Her long legs tanned beneath her shorts, Pia moved to the far edge of the bed. “It’s your bed. If someone leaves, I’ll head back to Sydney.”
“Please, don’t go.”
I swore it was Pia’s foot that reached out first. In her sleep, stroking my ankle. Rolling to face her, I didn’t dare to hope for more. Still, my big toe caressed her calf, with my fingers aching to join the party. Lying awake, watching her chest rise and fall, the pace quickening until her eyes opened.
“Kade?” A cry? Whimper? It didn’t matter. She called for me and until my dying breath, I’d be there for her.
Not needing or wanting a further invitation, I braced as our bodies rolled together, almost touching. My lips bloody well exploded with her first kiss. An unexpected gift that I returned in spades. Our tired hands made short work of her t-shirt and our shorts. In a flurry of passion, my beautiful Pia was as she should be, naked in my arms. Her nipple between my teeth and her legs opening for my hands.
Whatever it takes for her to feel loved.
If this was going to be our last time together, I wanted her to remember us. Know that walking away had to be her decision, because it would never be mine. Know what she was walking away from.
I dived under the sheets, replacing my fingers with something I’d never given another woman. Fucking was fun. Fingering okay. But to go down on a woman was an intimacy I’d resisted until last weekend with Pia. Kissing her where I’d never been, tongue flickering until I felt her change. Her cries became whimpers and instead of fighting for me to join her, she gave into being pleasured.
Make her feel loved.
I felt her squeeze before the tremors started. Slowly until her body convulsed and her cries again filled the cottage.
Cradling Pia in my arms, I kissed her wet hair until she calmed and snuggled against my chest. In this moment, we were one and the email didn’t exist.
“What about you?” I pushed and then kissed her hand away. With one touch, I’d probably explode. For all her tomorrows, I needed Pia to remember this night as a gift. Nothing expected in return.
“Shhhh, go back to sleep.”
The bloody kookaburras woke us as the sun started it’s rise. The heat of another Australian Christmas already baking the ground. Pia wriggled in my arms, but not so much that my morning wood could be dislodged from her back.
“Morning.” I kissed her shoulder, hoping that our midnight rendezvous could last a lifetime.
“Please don’t talk, not yet.” Pia didn’t try to turn around and I froze while she reached to find me. Damn! After last night, it took all my self-control not to explode on impact.
What if this is the last time?
No, it can’t be.
Then make her feel loved.
If last night had been my gift to Pia, this morning was her favor returned. Except she worked me to such a frenzy that by the time—well if we were judging based on time, this wasn’t my finest ten minutes.
I bit down on my lips to keep from screaming out my desire, my passion. My love.
Wanting to cradle her again, talk and make things right, the moment I finished, Pia leapt from the bed as if struck by lightning. “Can you make us coffees while I shower?”
“But what about you?” Okay, we could talk later but I tried to pull her back down so she could experience as much Christmas joy as she’d given me.
“It’s never been about me.” Already, Pia had grabbed her clothes for the bathroom. “At first, we were just a fun way of not being alone for Christmas. Then, I thought it was just a stupid tug-of-war with your brother with me as the prize. Then, silly me, the stakes got higher and this bloody farm became the prize.”
“Pia, don’t.”
“I’m going to have a shower. Wash us away and get ready for my fake smile for my fake Christmas boyfriend for our fake Christmas lunch.”
“But—”
“A coffee would be nice.”
“Eggs?”
“Only if you want me to crack them over your head.”
We’d only been together for one wonderful weekend, but I didn’t realize how much I loved hearing Pia sing in the shower, slightly off key and making up words, until she didn’t.
I didn’t know how I’d ever be able to sleep in this cottage again without seeing her dark hair spread across my pillow. Waking with her in my arms.
To lose her now would be like admitting my entire life had been a failure. Holding onto this cottage had been my one way of honoring my grandparent’s legacy without imposing on Declan’s future.
Now, it didn’t matter.
While the eggs cooked, I checked my messages. Not that I expected a response on Christmas Day, but yesterday had still been a workday. For the money I paid my lawyer, you’d think the bastard could drag himself away from Christmas drinks to help out a mate.
Nothing.
Without proof to shove in front of Pia, Declan and my parents, I didn’t stand a chance.
Make her feel loved.
Yesterday, grandma’s voice had been comforting. Thinking that at least her memory was on my side. Now, it had become a taunting I could do without.
To the backdrop of the shower, I set the table. Fresh bottlebrush from my cottage garden, strawberries in the bottom of champagne glasses and a full breakfast cooked to perfection. With a slight amendment.
“Really?” Pia’s laugh cut through my thoughts as she found the two raw eggs on her plate. “Not up for cooking this morning?”
“You wanted something to smash.” Come on, she either had to find the humor, or get out her frustration so we could move on.
“Don’t tempt me.” Pia’s eyes twinkled their warning.
“Consider it your Christmas present.”
“You didn’t buy me anything?”
I ignored the small jewelry box hidden at the bottom of my duffle bag. A lifetime in the planning, purchased on impulse but after yesterday, impossible to give.
“You seem like a girl who prefers action gifts. Will the eggs do?”
“Fine, but I get to choose when.” Pia’s eyes sparkled. “We could do a slap countdown kind of thing, but I’d prefer to take you by surprise.”
“Like you did last night?” I flirted, trying to get her to focus on the future and not yesterday. “One ankle was all it took.”
“I was thinking about this morning, I’ve seen you last longer.”
“Ouch!” I pulled out her chair, hoping my graciousness would at least contrast with her taunts. “We could always have a do-over.”
“You think you deserve a second chance?”
I exaggerated my flinch as Pia warmed an egg in her hands. Yes, this could get messy, but I’d be happy for her to clean me off in the shower afterwards. I could only hope.
“Depends on what we’re talking about. If it’s my reputation as a sexual genius, then I demand a recount.”
“What about your reputation as a lying bastard.”
“Exactly, what do you think I lied about?”
“Everything.”
“You’re gonna have to be more specific. You asked a lot of questions before we met. Which ones do you think I lied about?” In some parts of the country, I was renowned as a negotiator. I never expected the stakes to be so high, but I couldn’t let Pia feel manipulated or played. I needed her to unpackage
the truth and draw her own conclusions without feeling like she’d been part of a deal.
A negotiator not negotiating. What could possibly go wrong?
“That’s not what I meant.” Pia threw back at me. Hell, I loved her spunk and fire. Among other things.
“Then be more specific.”
“The kiss. Making me believe you’d always had a crush on me.”
“It was real; and I did.”
“Bullshit. I was just an imaginary pawn in your screwed-up relationship with Declan.”
“Okay, let’s talk about Declan. Mr. Perfect. Captain of the football team, dux of school and daddy’s heir apparent. Groomed from birth to take over the farm my parents spent a lifetime expanding while other families walked away from the land.”
“Jealous much?”
“Not even when he bedded every girl at school. I didn’t care as long as he didn’t get you.”
“There we have it, I’ve only ever been a pawn in your screwed up, sibling rivalry.” Her voice broke slightly, and I hoped she was ready to come back to me. All she had to do was hear the truth, and all I could do was hope my lawyer got back to me before Pia bolted for good.
“Not at all.” I wanted to keep my tone bland; but couldn’t hide the words that failed me yesterday but were on repeat in my head all night. “Declan can have the farm. Hell, he can have this cottage and keep his wife here and his harem in the house. I don’t care. The only woman I’ve ever wanted, ever loved, is you.”
After my unexpected and probably ill-timed outburst, the only sound was the bloody birds singing before hiding from the sun’s heat.
As Pia played with her breakfast, moving food silently around her plate, I could only do the same. All hunger for food had disappeared with hope.
I’d actually said the words.
Had she heard?
Did she believe?
Did it matter, anymore?
When Pia left the table, I checked my emails, again. A desperate message flew from my thumbs.
Kade: Mate, I know it’s Christmas, but you’ve had a week and I need that document. Stat.
“Merry Christmas,” Pia’s voice shook as she handed me an elegantly wrapped present. A small, flat box. A little larger and thinner than a book. Heavier than it looked.
“Thank you.” Instinctively, I looked towards my bag.
Why not, I’ll never give it to anyone else.
“Yours is in the bottom of my bag over there.”
“I have to get my own present?”
“Only if you want it. It seemed a good idea, the perfect idea, at the time.”
“But now?”
“Like I said, consider the eggs your Christmas gift. They’re probably more appropriate for how you feel after yesterday.”
Despite my offer of her gift, Pia didn’t move while I slid a finger under the ribbon, edging it from around the box edges. If this was the last gift she’d ever give me, I didn’t want to tear the paper. Stupid, I knew. But I also knew I’d be checking her pillow for strands of hairs. Mementos of my love for her, even if she never felt the same.
“I always figured you for the rip it off kind of guy.”
“Usually, I am. But I also like saving things that matter. It’s easier to save a single sheet of paper than a heap of scraps.”
The black, felt, picture stand gave away the gift, before I could guess at what the frame held.
“Ohhh.” My chest contracted as my breath exhaled and my body shook with the sense of what we’d lost.
I didn’t know a picture of us together even existed. If I had, it would have been blown up above my bed, and installed as the screensaver on my laptop and phone.
“I don’t remember this even being taken.”
A teenage Pia looking up at me with a love I didn’t know she felt at the time. “How old were we?”
“I’d come home after a year at university. You’d finished high school.”
“Okay.” The memories started coming back. “I think I remember the party. A spur of the moment Christmas bash down at the shearing shed. Kegs of beer and lamb roasting away on the spit.”
“We put the call out and everyone who was within a couple of hours of home dropped everything and came.” Pia smiled. “I never wanted to make things awkward between you and Declan, but the camera doesn’t lie.”
“The way you were looking at me—”
“It doesn’t matter, not now. I found the photo on Facebook and thought you’d appreciate knowing that you weren’t the only one who had a crush back then.”
“It matters.”
“No, it doesn’t. It mattered when I thought we were real. It mattered when I thought today actually meant something to you.” If I didn’t know better, Pia’s cries begged me to persuade her otherwise. Prove to her that what we had was true and had nothing at all to do with my parent’s farm.
Instead, and before I had time to react, I was sitting at my own table and drenched with egg yolk. Spluttering, I made things worse by trying to wipe the icky yellow gunk from my face and laughed, “Okay, you made your point. No slap clock could have prepared me for that!”
“Like I said, it doesn’t matter. Replace the photo with one that does. Merry Christmas.” Now, her hurt couldn’t be denied.
I looked again towards my bag. Could giving Pia her real Christmas gift make things worse? Carefully wiping a drizzle of egg from the picture frame I’d keep with me whether on the road or at home, I decided on a leap of faith.
To be forever described as either caving into grandma’s wisdom or Christmas delusion before egg-nog.
Pia watched me from the safety of across the room, probably expecting me to react to the egg. I couldn’t look at her, only the bag while I grabbed a dirty tea towel to wipe my face and hands. I could still change my mind.
She didn’t say anything even as I foraged in between shorts and undies, thinking I should have at least unpacked yesterday instead of going out to pick her flowers. Would have, could have, should have. Story of our relationship. I would have told her how I felt years ago, if I’d known she felt the same. I could have told her about my parent’s email last week, when I still had a chance to explain it away.
I should have forced my lawyer to deal with it and then presented my case to Pia before Declan could ambush us.
My fingertips found the small sharp edge of the box. I could always tell Pia her gift had been lost in transit. Replace it with a book voucher or something equally obscure. And meaningless.
Bleep Bleep.
“I guess you’re popular this morning.” At least Pia felt comfortable enough to hand over my blinking phone. I let the box fall back to the bottom of the bag.
Craig: Sent it yesterday. Check your spam. You’re welcome. Merry Christmas.
“Get my laptop.” I didn’t ask and Pia reacted as if struck. Damn it, this wasn’t the time for her to second-guess me and quite frankly, if I tried to log on, I’d probably drop the bloody thing out of nerves.
“I thought you were getting my present?”
“Pia, damn it! Just trust me and get my laptop.” At least she reacted to my urgency. About bloody time. Hopefully, Craig had come through for me. If he hadn’t, well, I’d be looking for a new lawyer before the New Year.
“Why?” At least she had the lid open and started it up.
“1367.”
“What?”
“My password, it’s 1367. Open it up and go to my emails, probably in the spam folder and it’s unread. You are looking for one from Armstrong Lawyers.”
“Why?”
“Pia, all the answers should be in the email.”
“There isn’t one here.”
“Like I said, check the spam.”
Seconds felt like minutes. I didn’t even notice palming the small box in my shorts until it dug into my leg.
“It came through yesterday morning.” Pia looked to me for an explanation. If she read the bloody thing, I wouldn’t need to explain.
“Before or after Declan caught us?”
“Before I even left Sydney. What’s going on?”
“Read it.” For the love of—why couldn’t she just listen and do what I asked without putting me through the third degree.
“Why?”
Damn it and damn her.
Not knowing what Craig had or hadn’t done, or whether it would make a difference, I couldn’t wait any longer. Handing Pia the small box, a voice I no longer recognized managed a weak, “Merry Christmas. This was supposed to be exactly what it looks like, but I get that yesterday changed things, for you. It hasn’t changed the way I feel, but I can’t return it and I’m never going to give it to someone else.”
“Kade, I can’t.” Pia obviously guessed at what gifts came in boxes so small.
“Accept it as a Christmas bauble, a friendship ring. Keep it or sell it. But before you decide, please read the bloody email.”
Pia refused to take the box, but at least read the email aloud.
“Kade, Are you sure you know what you’re doing? The farm is worth a small fortune and your parents’ wishes are very clear. If you love the girl, then marry her and live happily ever after—on your farm.
But I know that’s not what you want, so attached is the deed. All you have to do is sign and then get your brother to sign. I’ve left him messages but Declan never forgave me for winning Most Valuable Player in our final year. Sign the deed and not only does Declan get the Christmas gift he never expected, it takes the decision out of your parents’ hands. Any land they grant you, save the Cook acreage surrounding that rundown cottage you seem so fond of, will be immediately and irrevocably transferred to Declan.
Tell Pia I said, ‘hello’ and make sure you invite me to the wedding.
Craig”
More information than I needed Pia to know, but at least Craig had come through for me, for us. If she still wanted there to be an us.
“What does it mean?”
“I don’t want the farm. Well, I do but I don’t want to be a farmer. That’s always been Declan’s dream. Mine has always been you.”
“But the deed?”
“My Christmas gift to Declan. He can either tell mum and dad or leave them in blissful ignorance.”
Her Christmas Romance Surprise Page 8