Tinsel in a Tangle

by Kimbra Swain

  “I woke up in my bed trying to figure out how I got home,” I said talking a sip of the cool drink. “I called you, and you played dumb.”

  He laughed. “You were so confused. I never went back and explained it to you. I just assumed you realized that I took you home. But, anyway, I liked your truck so much that I bought one.”

  “You bought a truck just like mine? That's creepy, Dylan,” I said.

  “Mine’s newer and nicer than yours,” he smirked.

  “Well, excuse me,” I returned.

  He offered his hand. I took it as he guided me into a large den with soft leather couches and a beautiful stone fireplace. The house definitely had his masculine touch.

  In a display of power, which I’d never seen from him besides rising from the dead, he pointed to the fireplace, and it erupted in flame. “Shit,” I mumbled.

  The flames illuminated with soft amber light, warming the cool space almost immediately. He sat on the couch, pulling me to him. I straddled his lap kissing his bare neck. He slipped his warm hands under my sweater pulling it off over my head.

  “I've wanted you so badly since that first time,” he whispered as he nibbled on my ear.

  “I wanted it too, but it was against my rules,” I replied back as he unhooked my bra.

  “Stupid rules,” he murmured.

  “Yes,” I agreed. He pushed me up off of him to his side. My back hit the couch as he lunged over me. I squealed, because he caught me off guard. Reaching to unbutton his pants, he stopped me. He proceeded to find numerous places on my body to kiss, setting me on fire and building the tension. It was like playing pool all over again, just a different game. Dylan was damn good at games.

  He brushed my cheeks with the stubble on his face. I giggled and jerked from him. He grinned as we wrestled until he pinned me with a deep, soft kiss. I moaned, “Please stop torturing me.”

  “Revenge, my love,” he laughed, as he held me in place.

  “I suppose I deserve it,” I admitted.

  “Mmm, yes, you do,” he said. Releasing me he stood, his fingers beckoned me to follow him. So, I did through the moonlit house, up a twisting stairwell and down a long hallway. He opened the double doors to a darkened room. Pushing me in to the darkness, he pressed up behind me. The doors clicked shut. I felt his warm breath on my neck as he wrapped an arm around my waist.

  “I've waited so long, Grace, to bring you to my home, to my bed. I hope you like it,” he breathed. I felt his heart pounding in his chest with a slight tremor in his body. He was nervous. It wasn't like this was our first roll in the hay. I shifted uneasily in the darkness. I trusted him, but the anticipation of something happening flowed through me like lava. Or maybe that was just Dylan.

  I felt him move the arm that wasn't circling my waist. One by one candles placed all around the room flickered to life. Every surface in the room was covered in pillar candles. All different sizes lined up on the dresser, end tables, window sills, and in clusters on the floor.

  “Oh my,” I gasped. Every sexual experience in my life up to this had been a “wham, bam, thank you, ma’am.” Which I was fine with because it allowed me to guard my emotions, keeping every partner away from my heart. This was different, almost as if it were the first time.

  The room wasn't as masculine as the lower level of the house. Muted tones gave it a soft and welcoming feel. The large wooden bed, covered in pillows and a fluffy comforter, was inviting.

  His kissed my shoulder as I looked in awe. “Forgive me for not inviting you here before, but I remodeled the whole house after she left. I purged all of it in hopes that one day you would finally give in to me.”

  I turned to face him. Heaven forbid I let something go. “The night we took the first brother to the jail. You had the chance then to have me, but you didn't,” I said, kissing his chest.

  A small laugh escaped his lips. “The remodel wasn't done until two days ago. I wanted to bring you here.”

  “Romantic fool,” I said poking him in the stomach. I winced in pain because his stomach was ripped. There were so many days I watched him pace my lawn with his shirt off, cutting my grass.

  “See, you hurt yourself,” he teased, bringing my finger to his mouth and sucking on it. I darted across the room, and he chased me to the bed. The wrestling match ended with me on top holding him down. Right where he wanted me because he grinned.

  “You devil,” I said reminding us both if that first night. The words had barely left my mouth when the game ended, and we got lost in each other until morning.

  The sun streamed through gauzy curtains as I awoke tangled up with Dylan. He still slept. Honestly, I thought that perhaps the morning after would be like the last one. Appreciative of the experience, but instant regret. However, that ominous feeling never crossed my mind or my heart. Everything felt right about being in his arms.

  I was intimidated by his big house and apparent wealth. He'd never hinted at such a thing before. He remodeled the entire house just to wipe away all the memories of his time with Stephanie. In a way, I understood the sentiment. I also knew that he felt like he needed to impress me. But, hell, a cottage or cabin would impress a girl who lived in a double wide.

  Dylan looked at me differently. Despite him calling me trailer trash, he looked at me like a queen. I only saw myself as a misfit until recently. Even with all the havoc caused by the trolls plus the witches, I finally found a place where I fit. Currently, that place was in his arms.

  The candles had all died out, but the smell of melted vanilla wax hung in the room. For a few moments, I allowed myself to imagine living in this big house. I didn't know what his plans were for us, but I decided I'd let him guide the way. Being in a relationship would be a whole new experience for me. I had no idea where to start, but I certainly didn’t want to start by assuming that this house would ever be home.

  “Good morning, Grace,” he mumbled, pulling me tighter to him.

  “Mornin’ Darlin’,” I replied.

  He grunted, “Oh god, I love hearing you say it.”

  “Seems like a bland choice to me,” I teased. “Pookie was so much better.”

  “I never want to hear that name again,” he laughed. “Besides it's not bland. I've heard your real accent, my dear, and intriguing as it is, when you turn up the southern, I start losing space in my pants.”

  Laughing at him, I said, “Here I thought it was my charm and good looks.”

  “Those aren't bad, either,” he said. “I'm gonna make coffee. There is a bathroom right over there if you want to shower. And that closet has clothes in it for you.”

  “You bought clothes? For me?” I asked.

  “I don't think you realize how long I've been planning to trap you here,” he said as he rose out of the bed. I stared at every magnificent inch of him.

  “I'm going to ignore that creepy comment and beg you to come back to bed,” I said.

  “What about coffee?” he pointed over his shoulder.

  “If you'd rather have coffee than morning sex, then go ahead, Dylan,” I said, pulling the comforter off of me to show him what he was turning down.

  “Fuck,” he groaned.

  “No, fuck me,” I purred.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he obeyed crawling back into the bed, and pulling the comforter over our heads. His damn smile. His warm hands. His body pressed to mine. Lord, have mercy.

  I showered in the biggest bathroom I'd ever seen. The shower and the bathtub were separate. The shower had frosted glass walls and slick tan tiles. The tub, which I hoped to use some day, was a large iron claw foot. An antique piece in a modernized antique house. Stalker Dylan had all the products I liked in the bathroom. I shook my head. At least, he was paying attention.

  In the closet, I found a selection of clothes much like the ones I already owned except less two-bit whore. I pulled on a very expensive pair of soft jeans, and a loose tan sweater.

  As I passed through the house, I peeked into the rooms, but not entering them
or wandering off the direct path to the kitchen. Upstairs were mostly bedrooms, except for a very manly study. The downstairs were covered in dark wood floors and soft rugs.

  Standing at the kitchen sink, he wore a white t-shirt that hugged his muscles and a pair of long hung cotton pants. He handed me a cup of coffee. As his hand brushed mine, I shivered.

  “You cold?”

  “No,” I muttered sipping my coffee.

  He sat his on the counter and leaned over smelling my freshly washed hair. “So, just my touch makes you tremble,” he teased.

  “Dream on, Dylan Riggs,” I denied. Deny. Deny. Deny.

  “I bet that's not all it does,” he grinned.

  “Whatever,” I replied.

  “What do you think of the house?” he asked.

  “It’s wonderful. Thank you for sharing it with me,” I said.

  “Who are you? And what have you done with my Grace?” he said.

  “I can be nice, occasionally,” I rebutted him. “Don't get used to it.”

  I heard my phone ringing over on the couch. It must have fallen out of my pocket while we wrestled last night.

  “It’s Levi,” Dylan said as I went to answer it.

  “How do you know?”

  “It rang twice while you were in the shower,” he said. “I didn’t answer it.”

  “You could have answered it. I don’t care,” I said as I answered it. “Hello.”

  “Really? You make fun of me for a few hours, but you've been gone all night,” Levi teased.

  “Shut your mouth, Levi Rearden. What do you want?”

  “Winnie wants to know if you are still taking her shopping?” he said. I could hear cartoons in the background.

  “Crap. I almost forgot. Tell her I'll be back in a few minutes,” I said.

  “Alright. At least take a shower, and wash the Dylan off you,” he suggested.

  I hung up on him. Looking at Dylan, he had turned to the sink and was washing out his cup. “Winnie?” he asked.

  “Yes, I promised to take her shopping,” I said as I leaned on the counter next to him. “Will you take me home?”

  “Sure. If you will give me a few minutes, I'll take a quick shower and go shopping too. I need to make a few Christmas purchases,” he said pressing his body on mine. He kissed me with sugary coffee lips. He tasted amazing. I needed to start putting sugar in my coffee.

  “If you keep doing that we will never make it back to get Winnie,” I said.

  “Come here. I want show you something before we go.” He dragged me back upstairs and instead of turning to the left toward the master bedroom. He turned right, opening the first door.

  Inside was a child's wonderland room. Painted girly colors with rainbows and unicorns. A large white iron bed with gauzy drapes around it. Fit for a princess. A bookshelf lined with story books. A toy box open and ready to be filled. “Dylan, what is this?”

  “I know how much she means to you, and maybe we can bring her out here. She would love the animals. I’ll have a new foal soon, and I thought she would need a room to play in or take a nap. I’ve seen her room in that trailer. It’s awful,” he muttered.

  Tears rolled down my cheeks. It was beautiful. The kind of room a real father would make for his child. “You have to be the most amazing man on earth,” I said.

  “I will remind you often that those words came out of your mouth, and you meant them,” he teased. “Don’t cry, baby.”

  He wiped the tears, as he kissed my cheek. “Thank you, Dylan.”

  “Good grief, I’m beginning to think that some angel possessed you last night with all these sweet words,” he laughed as he headed toward the master bedroom.

  “I’ll get my head on straight soon,” I said staring at his ass as he walked down the hallway. “Well, maybe not.”

  He laughed, because he heard me.

  “Please tell me you told him,” Levi said quietly as he stood next to me in the mall. We watched Winnie sitting on Santa’s lap telling him what she wanted for Christmas. Dylan paid for the picture, so I could hang it on my fridge.

  “None of your business, Dublin,” I said.

  “Good, it’s about time,” he smirked. I smacked him in the shoulder, but it didn’t faze him. He just laughed at me. Dylan caught the exchange and grinned at us.

  “You like the house?” he asked.

  I turned to him and put my hands on my hips. “Levi, what do you know about that house?”

  “I helped him with some of it. He paid me,” he said.

  “When was this?” I asked. “Because the last time I checked all you do is sleep with Kady.”

  “That’s not true. I eat too,” he laughed. “No, he asked me to come help, and on the days you would disappear. I’d go help him. Where were you by the way?”

  “Spending time with my grandfather,” I replied. Nestor and I had spent a lot of time together in the small apartment above the bar. I was trying to learn from his kind and open ways. He had a vast knowledge of fairies. He shared it all with me.

  Winnie ran off the platform from Santa, jumping into Levi’s arms, “Uncle Levi! He said I’d been good, and he would bring me lots of Christmas presents!”

  “You have been good. I’m sure you will get whatever you want,” he said.

  “You want a candy cane? He gave me two!” she said.

  “Sure, let’s go to the toy store, and you can show me what you want,” he said.

  “You have money?” I asked.

  “Yes, Grace,” he grumbled. Winnie laughed at him. Dylan traced his finger from my elbow to my hand. He planted a soft kiss on my cheek.

  “She’s so excited,” he laughed.

  “She’s making me excited. I wonder if we could convince Bethany to let her spend the night at the trailer and open presents with us?”

  He grimaced, but said, “Perhaps.”

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “As long as we are together on Christmas, I’m not sure I care who else is there. If Winnie is there that’s great. Levi can take a hike. What was he bothering you about?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Us?” he asked.

  “No, not necessarily. He’s been adamantly pushing me to tell you how I’ve felt. Besides, he told me your dirty little secret.

  “What secret?”

  “That you were paying him to help you on the house,” I said.

  His laughter filled the air around us. “Oh, that secret. I thought he’d told you about my secret dungeon full of fairy misfits.”

  “Or the secret relationship the two of you have been hiding from me,” I teased.

  “You will just have to share me with Levi and the dungeon,” he teased back.

  “As the queen, I would have to punish you for harming my subjects,” I reminded him as we walked through the mall. Shoppers passed all round us, carrying red and green bags. The smell of roasted peanuts and cotton candy filled the air. Demonstrators stood at the center kiosks beckoning shoppers to sample or test their wares. I leaned into Dylan’s warm frame, and he hummed with pleasure.

  I spied the toy store up ahead, but Dylan pulled me to an empty bench. I sat next to him. “What would you like for Christmas, Grace?”

  “I’ve been naughty,” I said.

  “This is true. I’ve seen it with my own eyes,” he said as those eyes twinkled.

  Clearing my throat, I said, “I thought I’d save Santa the trip.”

  The humor in his eyes faded, turning dark. He gripped my hand staring behind me. “No, don’t look,” he said barely breathing.

  “Dylan, what is it?”

  “Her,” he said. Shaking his head, his body tensed. I knew she was coming toward us.

  “Good afternoon, Dylan. It’s Grace, right?” she smirked. “Glad you aren’t dead, Dylan.”

  Her midnight hair glistened under the twinkling lights. The only thing with more twinkle was the giant diamond on her finger. Looking at her through my sight, her features enhanced with
large eyes and pointed ears. Stephanie was royal born elf. Seelie fairy. Sworn enemies of my father’s wild fairies. I hated her on principle.

  “I wasn’t dead. It was an operation to discover the individuals responsible for killing those children,” he explained. I’d never thought what the explanation was for the external world. Those of us who knew the truth about Shady Grove and its inhabitants never questioned Dylan’s reappearance. The rest of the world saw the panicked videos from the courthouse with a dead man on a sidewalk. I knew that Stephanie was a high-born elf, but perhaps the reappearance of Mr. Riggs hadn’t reached outside of our town.

  The reason we couldn't get any info about his death early on was that at the scene the body had disappeared. The Sanhedrin had something to do with a distraction that allowed Dylan to rise without the watchful eyes of normal humans.

  “I’ve got to find Sergio. He wandered off while I was shopping. Have you seen him?” she asked Dylan. Sergio Krykos, her boyfriend, was the head partner of a large law firm in Tuscaloosa. His Greek heritage was very apparent the day I first saw him at Dylan’s memorial service. She’d consistently cheated on Dylan with her boss, and now apparently, she was engaged to him.

  “No, I haven’t seen him,” he said squeezing my hand. His eyes rested on the diamond.

  “Oh, we haven’t officially announced it, but isn’t the ring gorgeous?!” she said pushing the diamond toward my face.

  “It’s lovely,” I responded.

  “So, you are fucking Dylan now? Or were you always fucking him? Does your daddy know?” she said pointedly.

  Dylan stood up pulling me with him. He paced away from her as she laughed. He continued to walk to the far end of the mall. I jerked his hand to grab his attention. “Dylan, stop. Darlin’ we’ve run far enough.”

  He turned quickly wrapping me in his arms. I knew Dylan loved me, but she had a way of hurting him that I didn’t expect. His breathing slowed. “She stuck that in your face, and I wanted to strangle her. You were too kind, Grace,” he said.

  “You were worried about me?” I asked.