Goldie Locks and the Three Brothers Bear

by Pumpkin Spice

  “Oh, no,” she said when she saw the disheveled table. “Someone’s been eating off my plate.” She walked past me and Anastasia and gasped. “And it’s all gone.”

  Goldie turned, not to me, but to my brother. “What happened?”

  Dylan looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

  “It’s my fault!” I blurted out. “I came to introduce you to my date, saw your plate of food, and boy, did it look yummy.” I patted my stomach for good measure. “So,” I shrugged with wide, opened eyes, “I just helped myself.”

  When Goldie laughed it wasn’t deep and throaty like Scarlett, nor was it high-pitched and annoying like Anastasia. When Goldie laughed it was just the right blend of sensuality and femininity that made a man feel like he was the funniest person in the room. When in reality, I was the biggest joke.

  “You ate her entire meal?” Dylan looked horrified. “We just left to get a drink from the bar. In that time, you ate her entire meal?”

  My stomach growled and didn’t help sell my story. “Yup, that’s right.” I waved my hand over the table like a magician. “Ate the whole thing.”

  Goldie continued to laugh. “Oh, Hayden.”

  “But replacements are coming. I’ve already ordered a new pot of Raclette and baguettes,” I said. “And it’s on me.” I tapped my chest. “The entire meal. On me.”

  Goldie knelt down beside me, tucked her beautiful dress beneath her knees and gently stroked my arm. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  Her touch sent shocks throughout my body and awakened every dormant cell. “It’s the least I could do.” I stared into her green eyes with flecks of gold, and for a moment I felt like we were all alone. And for more than a moment, I wished we were.

  “Are we going to order dessert?” Anastasia’s voice brought me back to the grim reality that some women were just better suited for movie dates.

  Chapter Five

  I barely slowed my Mustang in front of her house.

  “Aren’t you going to walk me to the door?”

  I turned my head to Anastasia and let the V8 in my classic ‘68 idle loudly. I cupped my hand around my ear. “What?”

  “I thought you could come in for a nightcap.”

  I may have stepped on the gas pedal to drown out her voice. “Thanks for a great night!” My voice was as chipper as I could muster as I reached across a sea of pink chiffon for the passenger’s side door handle. I opened it. She politely smiled before exiting my car. I tried to wave away the smell of Italian sausage she left behind, but I knew it’d be a while before that bouquet left my ride.

  Still, I waited until my date was inside her mother’s house and the front porch lights were turned off before I dropped the clutch and left skid marks in my wake. My Mustang tore up the back roads of Amāre in a blaze of fire.

  Never again. I don’t care if I end up alone.

  It was an empty threat, and I knew it. I drove toward the moon that hung low in the evening sky. The faster I drove the closer it came to me. I smiled.

  “I’m closing in on you, and then we’ll find out if you’re really made of cheese.” I patted my stomach. “I still haven’t eaten. And you know how much I love a good wheel of cheese.”

  So the chase was on. I honed my sights on the man in the moon, or whoever sat brightly in the night sky and gave lovers a reason to believe in fairy tales and happily ever after. I was going to get to that moon or to the end of Amāre’s town limits, I just wasn’t sure which would happen first. My cell phone glowed with an incoming text. I reluctantly pulled to the side of the road.

  Hayden, think ur date left behind her silk wrap & Dylan left w/o his Raclette. We’re still open—Hansel

  I exhaled and rapped my thumbs against my cell. Silk wrap? I volleyed my head from side-to-side. I don’t remember a silk wrap. I glanced up at the sky that was shifting colors. “You lucked out, buddy. I’ll get you next time.” I texted Hansel.

  Ur a doll. On my way. Give me 5.

  As soon as Gretel handed me the silk wrap that was the color of homespun butter and lingered with the scent of gardenia petals and a hint of apricot nectar I knew who it belonged to. It practically slipped through my fingers, but I let that happen once before and I wasn’t about to let it happen again. I held onto it tightly. I looked up at Gretel.

  “Do you think it’s too late?” I said. “You know, to return it?”

  Her brown eyes warmed back at me softly, and she smiled. “Hayden, it’s never too late.”

  I nodded. “Okay, then.” I turned to leave when she tapped me on my shoulder. I pivoted on the heel of my boot.

  “Your Raclette?” She handed me a take-out box. Its weight alone made my stomach grumble.

  “Right.” I grinned. “Thanks for making another order. I can’t believe Dylan didn’t stay to finish this.”

  “He seemed in a hurry to leave.”

  Of course. All the air left my lungs. “He was on a date with Goldie. He probably had other plans.”

  Gretel shook her head. “No, I don’t think that’s what it was about. I just think the night had come to a natural conclusion.”

  “Huh.” I held onto the box of cheese and the silk wrap—both felt warm to the touch.

  Gretel walked to the door and held it open. “So I imagine she’s still hungry.”

  I shook my head. “What?”

  “When you bring Goldie her wrap, make sure you share the Raclette. I don’t think she was able to truly enjoy our signature dish.”

  I gently bowed my head toward the hostess I absolutely adored and who knew me so well. “That is a promise.”

  ****

  My Mustang seemed to know the way to her home. Unlike the dark and desolate back roads, the main streets were gently lit by lamps that hung on each corner, welcoming travelers from far and wide to the town of Amāre. The night sky continued to shift in color and mood. The evening shade of sapphire had darkened as midnight seemed ready to make a grand entrance. Nothing was different, yet possibility seemed to linger in the air. I looked at the silk wrap on my passenger seat and the to-go box of Raclette, which were both safely strapped in by a seat belt. When it came to cheese and specifically Raclette, one could never be too sure.

  I glanced in my rearview mirror. The moon seemed to be following me. I raised my eyebrows and wagged my finger. “Uh-huh. You know I’ve got my own cheese, don’t you?” I shook my head. “Nope. Not sharing. Not with you anyway.”

  The moon didn’t seem to heed my warning. It cast its mellow glow behind me while I made my way into her subdivision. Her house was one block away from Dylan’s, but when I pulled up beside the front, it no longer reminded me of my brother’s home. My stomach filled with butterflies. Come on, Hayden, get a grip, man.

  I wiped my hands on my jeans, unbuckled the box of food and gently grabbed her silk wrap. I hit the door handle with my elbow and carefully pushed my way out of the car. The front walk to her house was lit by the same twinkling lights that I had noticed were strung on the ceiling of her wraparound porch. They intermittently twinkled, and I felt like I had stepped into a dream. As I walked forward, the lights flickered, keeping rhythm with my heart that beat in short little spurts the closer I got to her door.

  The last time I entered her home, I fell through the window. Let’s not do that again. I took a deep breath and rapped my knuckles on the monolithic oak door in front of me. The massive barrier seemed to block out not only light but time and space itself, and I wondered what disaster on the other side of it might be held back only by the pair of quivering, rusted steel hinges straining under its weight.

  Shockingly my knock elicited no response.

  I tapped my boot on the slates of her wooden porch. I shifted the to-go box to my side, slung her wrap around my neck like a scarf and decided to give her door a real good Bear-sized thump. I cocked back my arm, extended my fist all the way, lifted my front shoulder, and stepped back. I determined the exact spot on the door that I was going to rap and focused my
sights on it. Just as I quickly swung forward with all my body weight from my back foot to my front foot to give that oak door a solid, it suddenly swung open. My fist came forward and struck, not the oak door as I had intended, but jabbed Goldie right square in the jaw.

  Her head snapped back and then forward. Dazed, she started to wobble toward me. “Did you just punch me?”

  I barely nodded. Oh, my God. My body flushed with shock, then horror, and then a shot of adrenaline. “Are you okay?” I rushed toward her and held out my arms as she swayed from sided-to-side holding her chin. The to-go box dropped from beneath me with a loud thud as its contents spilled all over her porch.

  “Is that cheese?” She looked at the warm Raclette that oozed out of the box in velvety, creamy ribbons.

  Again I nodded. “Yup,” I said looking at my second lost supper of the evening. “But that doesn’t even matter. I don’t care. How’s your mouth?”

  She glanced up at me. Her tongue began to play with her lip that was suddenly twice its normal size and as purple as the night sky had turned.

  I covered my mouth with my hand. Oh no!

  “Hay-wen, you all-white?”

  I shook my head. “Yeah, I’m good.”

  She giggled. “You don’t seem all-white.”

  “Let’s get you inside and get some ice.” I cocked my head toward the front door.

  Goldie reached up and grabbed the wrap that was draped around my neck. “Is dat mine?”

  I nodded. “I was bringing it to you.”

  “Ah dat is so dweet.”

  “You probably should rest your mouth.”

  She spun around toward the house, but turned much too quickly because she started to fall backwards. I reached out just as she landed in my arms. I scooped her up, and her smooth, silky pink pajamas slide against my skin teasing my senses. Her long, golden locks fell over my arm awakening dormant desires. Her pajamas weren’t like anything I’d ever seen. They were tailored with a button-up top that strained to conceal breasts that gently hung to reveal their natural slope and size that were generous. But it wasn’t just that her breasts were ample. Her nipples rose in the night air and poked through the sexy, lace trim along her pajama top, arousing a want that stirred my imagination to unbutton her blouse with my mouth. Tucked in my arms, her drawstring pants hung low on her hips. These were as fitted as they were fine. Sweet dreams began and ended with what Goldie Locks wore to bed.

  “I can walk,” she said looking up at me.

  The flecks of gold in her green eyes shone brightly in the moonlight. I knew who to thank for casting a late night beam on the beauty I held in my arms, but instead of acknowledging the man in the moon I stared down into her fair face and raised an eyebrow.

  “Let you walk? And miss the chance to show off?” I shook my head. “Not gonna happen.”

  She giggled and leaned her head against my chest. For a fleeting moment, I felt like her hero and not the guy that accidentally gave her a right cross to the chin. I carried her over the threshold in my arms and toward the couch in the front room.

  I wasn’t going to be like my brother, Dylan, and test out all the beds to find the one that was the perfect fit. I wasn’t going to do that for the simple fact that I wasn’t sure where the bedrooms were. Her house may look like Dylan’s, but its interior layout was nothing like his. And I wasn’t about to traipse around the house with Goldie in my arms and risk hitting her head against a sharp corner or bang her into a bedpost. From the looks of her lip that had now tripled in size, I had already given her the Muhammad Ali of all hits. I needed to make sure she was okay and leave before I did any more damage to her or her home. As much as I wanted Goldie, and I did, her safety and wellbeing were more important than my carnal desire to slip off her pajamas and discover if Goldie was golden throughout.

  The couch was positioned next to the fireplace. A protective glass shield revealed a small stack of firewood crisscrossed in the hearth just waiting for a match. I gently laid Goldie against a decorative pillow before making my way to the mantle where I palmed the painted white brick until I found the box of matches. The fire lit immediately, and Goldie was by my side.

  “You should be resting,” I said.

  She rolled her eyes and pointed toward the kitchen with her index finger while she cupped her jaw with her hand.

  “Ice?” I said.

  She shook her mane of golden hair. “Nah,” she said. “Chicken ingers and ies.”

  “Oh, ho, ho. I already ran that errand of chicken fingers and fries, but if that’s what you want, I’d gladly go out and get you some. I’ve already ruined two of your dinners.”

  She held up her hand like a stop sign and placed her other hand on her narrow hip. Her draw-string pajama pants dipped to reveal her slender hip bone and the curve of her belly. She looked like a crossing guard with her outstretched hand in front of me. I wanted to pull her toward me and break all sorts of laws.

  Goldie stared at me intently and drew in her bottom lip. I wasn’t sure why she did it until she spoke, and then her speech was near perfect and it made me smile.

  “Hay-wen, sell that story to one of those Grimm Brothers who may actually buy your fairy tale. I won’t. I know you didn’t eat my dinner. Your date did.”

  I cringed and tilted my head. “Yeah, well, she was my responsibility.”

  Goldie chuckled and then sucked in her lower lip again before she spoke, and it was sexy as hell. “Anastasia was a handful.”

  “Little bit.” Just hearing her name was enough to make my dick shrivel. “So ice?”

  Goldie’s smile was enough to bring my cock back to life. “Yes, please.”

  I returned with a bag full of ice and two very full glasses of honey pot wine. Goldie held the glasses and nodded toward the hall closet. I opened it to find a large, thick, plaid blanket. She patted the floor in front of the fire. Again, she drew in her bottom lip.

  “Don’t Bears like picnics?”

  “Yeah and picnic baskets, honey, rangers, I've heard them all.” I shook out the blanket until it covered a good section of carpet in front of the fire that glowed before us.

  Goldie sat with her legs crisscrossed just like the stack of firewood, and I sat opposite her. She handed me my wine glass, and I tilted it toward hers.

  “To mistaken homes, mismanaged meals, and mishaps at midnight,” I said.

  She threw her head back and laughed. Her beautiful, swollen lips curved into a smile. “To better endings.” Our glasses briefly chimed against one another.

  When she drank, wine dripped down her chin. I leaned over and gently dabbed the streak from her face. “Should I take you to the ER?”

  She shook her head. “Trauma.”

  “The trauma unit?” My voice sounded as hysterical as I suddenly felt.

  She grinned and sucked in her bottom lip. “Swollen lips are typically caused by trauma to the mouth.”

  “I didn't mean to, you know, punch you. I was aiming for the door.”

  “Well, if you can’t share a concussion with your loved one, what can you share?”

  “I caused a concussion?” My tone had moved from hysterical to frenzied.

  Goldie erupted into laughter. She held her side and started to sway again. Her honey-colored wine sloshed back and forth in her goblet like liquid gold.

  “Are you all right?” I said and nervously laughed, which only made her laugh harder. “You don’t really have a concussion, do you?”

  She held her glass toward me. I quickly placed my glass on the ledge of the fireplace and grabbed hers. As soon as she was free of her wineglass, she leaned over and broke out into, what could only be described as a fit of giggles.

  “Yeah, okay, I get it.” I placed her glass on the fire place beside mine. “Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny. Make fun of the guy who punched you. Nice.”

  At that comment, she only laughed harder. She stopped momentarily to point her finger at me and widen her beautiful green eyes. “You did! You punched me!”


  I shook my head. “It was an accident.”

  But more laughter ensued. She barely came up for air when she looked at me with her purple, bruised lips, and then I began laughing. “I’m sorry,” I said. “But those lips. Not so sexy.”

  She leaned over and looked at her reflection in the glass fireplace screen and howled. “Oh, my gosh! I look awful!”

  “I know! You do!”

  She leaned into me, and I leaned against her until we were laughing so hard we collapsed back on the blanket. We could barely breathe. With our hands on our stomachs, trying to catch our breath the fire warmed my feet and Goldie’s laughter still seemed to echo in my ears.

  “Well, this was probably the worst date night of my life,” I said staring at the high ceiling in her house that looked like pixie dust had been scattered across it. It sparkled and shone like stars in the evening sky. Everything in Goldie’s house was magical.

  Goldie elbowed me. “Ah, get over it, Bear. This was a great night. How many times do you get to hit on your brother’s date?” She elbowed me again—only harder. “I mean, literally.”

  “Ah, thanks, Locks.” I turned my head to her. “Didn’t think I could feel any worse about my night.” But she was grinning so wildly it was devastatingly cute. I shook my head and rolled my eyes for good measure.

  She leaned over and kissed me quickly.

  I playfully wiped my mouth with the sleeve of my shirt. “Ew, get those big lips off me.”

  She attempted to swat my arm, but I grabbed her wrist before she made contact. I raised an eyebrow. “Gotta be faster than that, Goldie. Us Bears are quick when we smell honey.” I leaned toward her and started flirtatiously sniffing her neck. Her head turned toward my nose.

  “Oh, that tickles.” She wiggled beside me.

  “This?” I said coyly panting and snorting like a big bear. She twisted and giggled, but couldn’t get away because I still held her wrist. I continued to huff and puff like a hungry bear, but the smell of nectar on her neck, the warmth of her skin against mine, and the fire crackling and snapping before us was like a hot command for passion. All the elements were in place including my desire that drove my mouth to nibble her delicate earlobe.