Silver Bells

by Ev Bishop

  “Well, hello there, stranger,” said Bryn in an exaggeratedly throaty voice. His heart thumped with happiness as he turned to greet her.

  “Hello there yourself—and hey, don’t go away.” He caught her hands and slid them back under his clothes so they rested just above his belt.

  “Mmm,” she said. “You’re very warm.”

  “Am I?”

  She nodded and rubbed her palms up his obliques, then over his chest. He took her hips and pulled her close, trapping her arms cozily against his body.

  “I think I should return this cold-fingered favor—”

  Bryn squealed and tried to squirm away. “I don’t think so.”

  “Oh, no?”

  “No.”

  Her hands were slowly warming, and he continued to hold her close. “How about a kiss then?”

  “Well, maybe just one.”

  “Just one, really? We’ll see.” Sean had just lowered his mouth to Bryn’s sweet, chilly lips when someone coughed behind him. He and Bryn sprang apart like teenagers caught necking—half embarrassed, half resentful.

  “Sorry for the interruption,” Jo said cheekily, not sounding sorry a bit. “But this is a working holiday.”

  “Rats, I guess we’ll have to settle with a plain old ‘good morning,’” Bryn murmured.

  “There was nothing plain about that greeting,” Sean whispered back, his racing libido in full agreement.

  Together they helped Jo and Callum load the B & B’s twelve-passenger van with rod carriers, tackle boxes, and insulated lunch kits, while bit by bit the rest of the wannabe fishermen and fisherwomen trickled over.

  “No chaperone today?” Callum asked at one point.

  “Not a one,” Sean said, winking.

  Bryn blushed. “I think a full day outside would be too cold for him.”

  “Yeah, probably,” Callum agreed.

  They all piled into the vehicle and in no time at all they reached a pullout on the highway and started hiking to their destination, a small lake Jo called a “trout gold mine.”

  Carrying rods, an insulated lunchbox, and a waterproof blanket provided by Jo and Callum, Sean and Bryn set out behind the rest of the group, keeping up at first, then slowing their pace. Heck, it wasn’t like they’d get lost if they fell behind. The trail of boot prints would be impossible to miss.

  The path narrowed and forced them to tramp along single file, but Sean kept turning to sneak glances at Bryn. Every time he did, she grinned, and her gray eyes were so soft and shiny, so happy, that Sean wished they could pause the moment, hold onto it, forever.

  “We’re almost there,” Jo called from ahead. “When you get to the big cedar, turn right. You’ll see our spot soon after.” She disappeared around a sharp bend.

  Sean had wondered how he and Bryn would distinguish the “big” cedar from all the other big cedars they kept passing, but when they arrived at it, they knew it was the one Jo meant, no question. It was easily ten feet in diameter, with massive branches that had maintained a tiny wedge of sheltered earth at its base, despite the snow covering everything else.

  He set his rod down and caught Bryn’s arm before she walked past. “Wait, I have an idea.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  He unrolled the waterproof blanket and spread it at the base of the tree. “I know you were really disappointed that you didn’t get to kiss me this morning—”

  “Oh, I was, was I?”

  Her smile was just so dang cute, but Sean managed to nod soberly. “It was super sad, actually.”

  “Well, it is really sad to be sad.”

  Sean grabbed the rod and lunchbox she was carrying, put them by the tree, then pulled her down onto the blanket.

  “This must be some kiss you’re planning,” she said coyly.

  He waggled his eyebrows.

  “Well, in that case…” Bryn repositioned herself, so she was on his lap, facing him, legs wrapped around his torso.

  Sean’s humor turned immediately into arousal, as all his blood pumped to the spot beneath her weight. “Now this is the kind of fishing I could really become a fan of.”

  Bryn smiled and leaned in, pressing her mouth to his and tasting of cinnamon lip gloss. He kissed her back, liking the sensation of their cold lips becoming warm, so warm. Then he slipped his gloveless hands up her shirt, mimicking the way she’d caressed him earlier. Bryn shivered and bolted upright when his cold fingers connected with the soft bare skin on her stomach. The movement made his groin twinge.

  “Brrr,” she breathed.

  He shrugged and grinned, feeling a bit wicked, loving that he could watch her face and eyes—which widened—as he sought her bra’s clasp, nestled between her firm breasts. Freed from their cotton and lace restraints, they were soft and heavy in his hands.

  “Like I said earlier, I thought a little payback might be… fun.”

  She started to speak, but interrupted herself with a sharp inhale when his thumbs found her erect nipples. Her teeth sank into her lower lip as he continued to play.

  Slipping one hand free, he reached for a bit of snow, then retreated to the warmth of her again—and added the slippery coldness to her increasingly hard nipples.

  She yipped softly but her eyes closed in pleasure, and Sean strained against his jeans.

  “Too cold?” he whispered. “Want me to warm them up?”

  Bryn’s eyes flashed open. Her pupils were huge. She darted her tongue across her lips, then nodded, keeping her gaze fixed on his. He unzipped her coat, then her sweatshirt, then gently pushed her tank top up. Her watching him was the hottest thing.

  He let out an involuntary groan at the sight of her ivory breasts with their aroused, dusky peaks. A wave of goosebumps rose across her skin as the chill air touched her, and Sean felt an echoing prickle along his own flesh that had nothing to do with the cold.

  “You are so beautiful,” he said raggedly, then lowered his head to her breast.

  She made a tiny noise and raked his hair with her fingers. When his mouth closed on one of her perfect, hard jewels of a nipple and his tongue dragged a warm wet circle around it, she gripped his scalp tightly with both hands.

  He could feel her consciously trying to not be too loud. “They’re fishing. They won’t hear us.”

  At the word “fishing,” her expression changed. She clapped her hands over her breasts and massaged them in slow, soft circles. Sean thought he’d lose his mind at the sight, even though he suspected she was being practical, not intentionally seductive—wanting to warm her nipples herself before taking them away from him. His sad suspicions proved right when she refastened her bra, tugged her tank top and sweatshirt back into place, and did everything up.

  His dismay must’ve showed because she laughed lightly and put one finger on his lips. “That was quite a kiss, all right—but I’m not getting caught au naturel when Jo realizes they’ve lost us.”

  She gave him a consolation peck, then a cruel longer kiss that only revved him up more and climbed to her feet.

  “I will get revenge for this, you know.”

  Bryn giggled, arched one eyebrow, and adopted her posh, very unauthentic British accent. “But of course, darling. I’ll be expecting nothing but your very worst behavior.”

  It was all he could do not to pull her down on top of him again.

  He stood too, gathered their gear, and followed Bryn down the trail, in tortured—and completely delightful—agony.

  They had just spied the lake, as Jo promised they would, when Bryn shot him a shy look over her shoulder. “It is freaky though. Admit it.”

  Sean was honestly confused. “I don’t know… I wouldn’t call a little outdoor action freaky, exactly. Adventurous, maybe.”

  “No!” Bryn laughed. “I didn’t mean… that. I meant how this—us—can be so easy, or how you can already be thinking so concretely about being with me… forever. We hardly know each other.”

  Sean knew what she was saying. In some ways, it did seem crazy. He dis
agreed, however, that they hardly knew each other. They just hadn’t known each other for long. Two very different things. “I was with Gemma for years, yet we never got any closer to each other. We only grew further apart—and we were never as easy with one another as you and I are, not even in the very beginning.”

  Bryn smiled. “We did sort of click right away, no doubt about it.”

  “And you and Brad dated for what, a year before you got engaged?”

  Bryn nodded.

  “Then you waited a year to get married?”

  “Well, ten months, but close enough.”

  “But it didn’t save you from having problems or ensure your relationship had what it needed to last, did it?”

  “Nope, sure didn’t.” Bryn laughed a little.

  “So what’s the problem with me feeling sure, so early, that you might be the woman—the only woman—for me?”

  Bryn looked down for a moment and when she glanced up again, her eyes were so open, her hope and sincerity so transparent that Sean’s breath caught. “It’s just that I don’t want us—if we do end up together that is—to ever… end.”

  Sean took Bryn’s free hand and squeezed softly. She was doubtful—because she was sane—but she didn’t seem fazed by his bringing up marriage. In fact, she was talking about it too.

  Finally, he found his voice. “That’s why I feel so sure. That’s exactly why. Because we want the same thing—a love that lasts. I’m sure we’ll have some hard times, but if we share the same mindset, that we want to be together, that we can’t imagine being with anybody else, we’re going to be fine. In fact, we’re going to be great. Hypothetically, that is—like if I was dumb enough to be bringing up marriage this early in the game.”

  Bryn grinned and shook her head, then her expression turned serious. “Is this a game then?”

  “Absolutely—but we’re on the same team and we get to call all the shots and make all the rules.”

  Bryn laughed. “Good game.”

  “There you guys are,” Callum called, suddenly appearing around a trio of bushy pine trees. “I was about to come searching.”

  “Yes, here we are,” Bryn agreed brightly. “In the flesh.”

  Sean bit the inside of his cheek, hard, to keep from laughing.

  Despite their mutual anticipation of more alone time, they had a lot of fun fishing. Jo and Callum had made sure the lake was frozen solid earlier in the day and had drilled a series of holes with an ice auger, marking each one with blue flags. Sean and Bryn listened carefully to Jo’s tips and followed her directions, using 1/16 jigs with realistic rubber minnows for bait. Apparently if they jerked their rods up and down periodically, it would keep the jigs moving and imitate a lively snack—something trout couldn’t resist.

  Jo also pounded in a couple of rod holders near Sean and Bryn’s hole in the ice and showed them how to insert their rods, if they wanted a less hands-on experience.

  “More silver bells,” Bryn exclaimed as she examined the setup, flashing Sean a private smile.

  “Exactly!” Jo said, misunderstanding her excitement. “They’ll jingle if a fish strikes. If you hear it, jerk hard on the rod to set the hook.”

  Sean grinned. “Oh, the hook’s set. Totally. Don’t worry.”

  Confusion then comprehension crossed Jo’s face. She laughed. “Okay, stop. I’ve heard enough. You’ll do fine.”

  And they did. Opting to hold their own rods, despite the pretty bells, they each caught two fat little dollies.

  “How fitting,” Bryn said laughing. “We’ll eat trout in Trout.”

  Sean groaned good humoredly.

  *

  Sean was on the floor, leaning against the couch, with Bryn nestled in the V of his outstretched legs. Her back rested on his chest and his arms held her in a gentle loop. He could’ve sat like that forever. They watched the fire together in comfy silence, mesmerized by the flames and feeling the effects of a whole day spent outdoors, followed by a good meal, and endless conversation and laughter.

  The little pine tree he and Bryn had fetched together sparkled in the corner, decorated with popcorn and fresh cranberry chains, plus one small string of lights and some tiny silver bells they’d bought in town.

  Steve approved of the yuletide addition and had deserted his chair in favor of curling up beneath it. He looked like a stuffed toy, complete with a new red satin bow around his neck.

  “I can’t pick a perfect moment with you. Each one just seems better than the last,” Sean whispered, reveling in Bryn’s soft vanilla scent. It was so her: sweet, homey, delicious. He rubbed his hands over her jersey tank top, adoring the sensuous swell of her stomach. Then he cupped her breasts—their image still burning in his mind—and pulled her even more firmly toward himself.

  “This okay?” he asked, pushing her silky hair off her neck with his chin, then kissing the spot where her neck melded into her shoulder.

  “Mmmhmm.” She lifted her chin, so more of her throat was exposed to him, then put her hands over his, which were still on her breasts, and arched her back. “So nice I can hardly stand it.”

  He agreed—until she moved suddenly, rotating to straddle his hips, and started to kiss him, deep and slow. Then it was even… nicer. His fingers found the soft waistband of her flannel sleep pants and played beneath it, stroking the velvet curve of her lower back where it flared into the voluptuous half-moon of her bottom.

  She made another low “mmm” sound, and Sean was reminded of the noises she’d made the first time they kissed—and the ones she’d made earlier that afternoon. He gripped her hips and rocked her back and forth against him, wanting to hear that noise again, wanting to make her make that noise again. It was agony trying not to think too much about all the other sounds he wanted to draw from her—all the things he wanted to do to make her shriek and groan and purr. They were both committed to moving slowly on the physical side of things—and apparently equally committed to driving each other crazy while doing so. He loved it.

  Sean had just realized that he really needed to change their position for his own sanity when there was a loud knock on the cabin’s door. Bryn startled and pulled away from him, eyes wide, lips parted slightly, like someone awoken from a dream. His heart raced at the unexpected intrusion of the outside world, too.

  Another knock sounded. Bryn removed herself from Sean’s lap and went to answer it. He was immediately chilled by her departure. Steve roused himself from sleep and whined.

  “Hello?” she said, opening the door a crack at first, then slightly wider. “Uh, yes, he’s here.” Bryn motioned for Sean to come, but took a step back from the entrance. “It’s Jo. For you,” she mouthed, more breath than volume.

  He nodded and went to the door. “Hey, Jo. What’s up?”

  “I’m really sorry to bother you guys, but a woman just called the office, insisting she needs to talk to you, that it’s important.” Jo hesitated a moment. “Do you mind coming to the office to take the call? She was adamant that she’d hold.”

  “Of course, of course. Thank you.” Sean was already shoving his feet into his boots, his heart pounding. If his sister or mom was calling all the way from Mexico this late on Christmas Eve, there must be something wrong. He hoped no one was hurt—

  He turned to Bryn, “I’m sorry—”

  “Don’t be silly. Go.”

  “I’ll be baaa-ack,” he said, trying to joke away his stress with a terrible impersonation of Arnold Schwarzenegger in The Terminator.

  Bryn smiled, but he could see she was worried too. “Of course—now get.”

  Sean ran the whole way from Trout to the B & B’s office phone. He picked up the receiver, panting with anxiety, not from exertion. “Hello? Hello?”

  “Sean? Is this you? Why didn’t you take my calls to your cell? I rang and rang. I had to contact your mother to find out where you were.”

  Sean was so fully expecting to hear his mom or Marnie that for a moment he didn’t recognize the caller.

&nbs
p; “Gemma?” he said after too long a beat.

  “Who else would it be?” she said snappishly—or maybe it wasn’t snappish. Maybe he’d just become used to Bryn’s mellow, low-key, never in a hurry manner.

  “Sean?” Gemma drilled him.

  “Sorry, I don’t have good service here, and your name didn’t come up on any calls—”

  “I changed my number.”

  “Okay… so what’s up? It’s been months. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”

  “I wasn’t expecting to have to call you either,” she said, then rushed on, oblivious to what her out of the blue call might do to him, only able to see, to consider—perhaps understandably, he thought—how her subject matter affected her.

  Meanwhile, he struggled to keep up with the barrage of nonsensical words. Gemma couldn’t be saying what he thought she was. She couldn’t expect what she seemed to be suggesting—

  But she was. And she was.

  As she continued her blue streak of plans and expectations, without waiting or asking for even the slightest reaction or response from him, Sean collapsed into a black leather chair and closed his eyes. His shoulders shook as his new shiny hope and tender love crashed around him.

  He had no idea how long he sat alone in the empty office, holding the now dead phone. Minutes? Hours?

  A door opened and closed again. Then he heard Bryn. She had come to get him. The pain of it was excruciating. “Sean? Are you all right?”

  Her soft voice and the dim light kindled a memory of the first night she’d sought him out, not wanting him to have to sleep on the hard floor. A grenade of grief exploded inside him. He cupped his eyes with his hands. They’d just met. They’d hardly had any time together. This was supposed to be barely the beginning for them, not the end.

  He staggered up from his chair.

  “Sean!” Bryn’s voice was frantic and suddenly she was under his arm, as if trying to prop him up, worried that he’d fall.

  “I’m… don’t help me,” he said gruffly.