by Jill Sanders
“I think I’m a good judge of character Aaron. I don’t see “alcoholic” written anywhere on you. Please, just talk to me; tell me what set this off.” she reached for his hands and held them.
He laughed, “What else—my parents.”
“And?” she said tucking her legs under her. She could hear the rain start up again outside, and grabbed her mug to warm her cold hands.
“Apparently, they just found out that I moved here and they are not pleased. They expect me to be back in LA by New Year’s,” he set the coffee down again and looked into the fire as if to find a solution there. “All my life I have done what they expected of me. Thinking,” he shook his head, “no, hoping, that by obeying them, I would change them. Change the way they felt about me.”
He leaned back and stared at the ceiling.
“It was always like this. I went to the schools they wanted. I took the jobs they wanted. I remember before I graduated, sending out my internship requests; I wanted to intern in New York. They wanted me to intern in Boston. More money, more power, to them I was a pawn they could move around to better their lives.”
He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.
“So, I interned in Boston; afterwords, they wanted me to take a job in Philadelphia. Taking the job in Los Angeles was the first thing I had ever done against their wishes. Now, they are upset at me that I left the job in L.A.” short burst of laughter escaped and he shook his head.
“I’m tired of trying to please them. Taking over for my grandfather was the first thing that I have done right. This house feels right—it is right—being here.” He stopped and looked at her. Words could not express what he felt, or how he felt.
“Aaron, from the sound of it, your parents aren’t much, well…,” she didn’t quite know what to say, “…parents. I’m so sorry they hurt you.” Setting her own coffee down next to his, she took his hands again.
“I can’t imagine the childhood you had being an only child and living alone in boarding schools. I have always had brothers who helped me through rough times like when we lost our father. They were always there for me growing up, but I can’t imagine what it would be like without love and support of a family. I do know this though, your grandfather loves you. Further, you are here now, in this place, with us, and you have friends and a home. Blood makes them your parents, but that doesn’t make their opinion of you important. You can make your own choices now; you have to make a life for yourself, one that you can live with.” Taking his face in her hands, she pulled him in for a soft kiss.
“I’m sorry that they’ve caused you pain, but that’s all over now. You’re here, with me.” she kissed his lips again.
He found her lips like a drug: soft and smooth. Running his hands up her arms, he could feel her shiver at his touch. Her hands were in his hair pulling him in closer. She hadn’t meant to come here for this. This was, in her mind, the first time he’d opened up to her. How could she not come to his aid?
Her skin was so soft, and she tasted so good that he left hot trails down her neck. Stopping frequently to sample, he pulled her shirt over her head. He was nibbling his way along her shoulder when he saw that her bright yellow lace bra had little white flowers covering the straps.
“How is it your under garments always make me smile,” he said pulling down the flowered strap slowly. Her head dropped back and a soft moan escaped her lips.
Reaching around her back, he released the clasp and filled his hands with her. When she straddled him, he leaned back and enjoyed the feel of her legs tightly wrapped around his hips. The hem of her black work skirt was hiked up past her thighs, and he ran his hands up her thighs and pushed it up even further. She wore black tights and after some maneuvering, he finally pulled them down and off her legs, leaving them bare and allowing her to straddle him again.
Letting his hands roam free, he glanced down and noticed her undergarments were a matching set. Giving one more smile he pulled the last lace to the side. He purred when he found her moist and ready for him.
“Now, Aaron, now. Please,” she reached for him, helping him free himself from the confines of his jeans. In one swift motion he grabbed her hips and was inside her.
How could she have ever known that it would be like this? She could feel her heart beat racing to match their rhythm. She could see matching desire in his eyes and she hoped, love. He increased the speed and her head fell back giving him access to her neck once again.
“Ride me Lacey. God, please ride me,” he said into her neck, breathing harder than he had ever in his life.
Moving her hips to an internal beat, she started slowly, torturing herself and him. His hands gripped her hips, holding her. She began to speed up. How could she have ever known that it would be like this: this closeness—this wanting. It tied her up, and built something heavy in her chest. Looking down into his face, his eyes were on her. She could see the matching desire there. Then, he reached up and took her nipple between his fingers lightly. Her head fell back, and her speed increased.
“Please.” It was more a gasp than a plea.
“Take all of me Lacey,” he grabbed her hips and took them faster until release came. It was swifter and more powerful than anything he had ever felt before. She relaxed against his chest as he pulled her closer and breathed in her scent.
It must have been only a few minutes, but when his head settled back onto his shoulders, he realized it was his stomach making the growling sounds, and he laughed.
“I guess a whole day of drinking and no food does something to a man,” he said laughing. She pulled back and looked at him.
“Are you telling me you’ve been drinking all day and haven’t eaten anything? And you call yourself a doctor?” She got up and grabbing her clothes made a sprint for the bathroom.
Five minutes later, she walked into his kitchen. He had pulled on his jeans but not a shirt. His bare feet and “just had sex” hair gave him a dangerous look. He was bent over searching his refrigerator, which made his low riding jeans show off his perfect backside. She leaned against the door and admired the view.
“Well, I have left over pizza, some old sandwich meat, or we can make some eggs,” he said turning his head towards her.
“I have a better idea.” she said as she walked slowly towards him, smiling.
An hour and some cold pizza later, she jumped up and quickly dressed again. Then she walked over to the closet and put on her coat while holding out his. “Come on. I have another idea.” she smiled at him.
He figured, because her first idea had been a great one, and he was enjoying the after effects of two really great bouts of sex, he would go along with whatever her new plans might be. Pulling on his clothes, he walked over to take the coat from her.
Opening the back door, she looked down. Bernard sat in fresh snow, tail wagging, and tongue drooling; there was a ball in his mouth.
“Good, we are all here.” She reached down and taking the ball gave it a toss. Turning back to Aaron, she said, “Hang on a minute.” Then, she raced out the back door. Within a minute, she was back with a large ax.
“Listen honey, that thing is sharp,” he started to back away with his hands drawn up in surrender.
She laughed. “Oh, please. This isn’t for you. It’s for the tree.” She pulled him out the back door and looked up at the snowflakes.
“See, I told you. Snow! This is going to be perfect.” she said leading the way down the path into the woods.
“Tree, what tree?” He said following her and shoving his cold hands into his coat pockets to happily discover a pair of gloves. Putting them on quickly, he caught up with Lacey and the dog.
A Christmas tree of course; it is a family tradition to chop down one after Thanksgiving,” she stated as she reached in her other pocket and pulled out a knitted hat with large yellow daisies that matched her gloves and, he smiled, her panties and bra.
They walked through the woods with Bernard trailing behind, a large ax flung over Aaron’s shoulder as th
e snowflakes got bigger.
The flakes were wet and somehow found their way down between the tall trees to land softly on his exposed neck. Pulling his collar tighter, he noticed how the forest was so quiet while it was snowing. He could hear their feet hitting the path, the dog panting, and swore he could hear the falling snow softly hit the branches of the trees themselves.
“The Christmas tree tradition was part of every Holiday season. We’ve been doing it since before I was born,” smiling back at him. She continued to walk down the path as Bernard trailed behind like it was the most natural thing to be walking in the dark woods in the snow.
Wanting to tease her a little, he said, “You know I have a plastic tree in a box out in the garage. I was just going to put it up sometime next week.”
“Plastic!” she stopped dead in the middle of the pathway and faced him. “Plastic! There will be no plastic trees in your new house. Do you understand me Doctor Stevens?” She shook her head and continued down the path.
“We always get the best Christmas trees from up on Temple Ridge, but it’s late and cold tonight. I don’t feel like hiking two miles up and down again. Thank goodness you have me along tonight because I know of the perfect tree. I spotted it earlier this year and have had it in mind ever since.”
They rounded a corner in the path and she headed off into the trees with Bernard following. After a shake of his head, he headed in after her.
Tree branches were thick and the snow seemed to have a harder time finding its way down to the ground. The temperature warmed a little and the smell of pine filled the air. Looking up, he could see the large branches of the trees swaying in the wind as the snow continued to fall. Snowflakes stuck to his lashes and tickled his nose. Had he ever walked in the woods with a girl, an ax, and a dog?
Looking back to where Lacey had been he froze. She had disappeared. Again.
Glancing around he wondered how such a small thing could move so fast. Of course it didn’t help that he was still half hammered. He called to her as he turned around in circles.
Nothing. The quite night seemed to engulf him again. Finally she emerged on his left smiling.
“Over here. I’ve found it!” she turned and walked back into the darkness. This time he followed and kept closer to her than before.
He felt that she did belong here amongst the trees and snow like a fairy-tail creature. He had thought that description fit her since he had first seen her.
Reaching the edge of a clearing, she turned to stand beside a rather large pine tree. At least he thought it was a pine. It smelled like the pine soap he used to wash up with after painting. It had perfect branches not a needle was out of place. It was roughly seven feet tall and the best looking Christmas tree he’d ever seen. He agreed that it was just what the house needed.
She smiled at him and placed one hand on her hip. “Are you ready to chop down our first tree?”
He looked at her and thought she was just like the tree—exactly what he needed.
CHAPTER TWELVE
If she thought about it, she would have realized she was settling into a pattern. Lacey worked her shifts at the restaurant, and in the evenings would end up at Aaron’s place.
It had taken them a full night to decorate the tree and the rest of house with ornaments from a large box in his garage. She even brought some of her lights and holiday nick-knacks over. They played Christmas music and laughed and sang along the entire time it took them to decorate. The house looked festive and was really starting to feel like a home.
Aaron would work away on the place every night painting and hammering on little details that made if feel finished. She enjoyed helping or sometimes just ended up watching him work.
Bernard had learned to sit on Aaron’s back porch every afternoon waiting for Lacey to arrive. Aaron had even bought him a dog bed; it had started out in his laundry room, but Bernard kept dragging it into the living room right in front of the fireplace. Aaron, being the softy that he was had let it remain there.
For once in her life Lacey was in a relationship that she didn’t feel completely in control of. She didn’t know how to feel about it, but she planned to enjoy it while it lasted.
On nights she worked the early shift; she would bring dinner or would end up cooking at Aaron’s. The house would be filled with smells of home cooking, and laughter always sounded out as they shared these meals. She really did enjoy her time with him, but she enjoyed the nights spent in his arms even better.
The night of the school Christmas play had been creeping up. She had promised her friend, Becca Linden, a grade school teacher, that she would assist with the backdrops. She dragged Aaron along to help with the designs. Because the organizational and artistic talent ran in her family for generations, everyone in town always called on a Jordan to help out.
The school play this year was the classic Scrooge and was less then a week away. Lacey was in charge of drawing and painting three backdrops that included; a bedroom, a snowy hilltop cemetery, and the inside of a small house completed with a fireplace.
Lacey had outlined all three backdrops while Aaron chatted comfortably with several kids who were eagerly waiting to help paint.
She liked that he looked relaxed around the small kids. Of course, it helped that most of them had visited his offices and actually knew him. He was a lot like his grandfather when it came to interacting with his patients.
She could tell that most of the kids actually looked up to him. They would tug on his shirt until he gave them his full attention. He would always bend down and look them directly in the eyes when he spoke to them.
Smiling, she turned to the excited group. “I’m done.” When every eye turned in her direction there was a choir of “ooh, aah and wows”
“I’ve marked what each section should be colored so it should be easy.” she showed them the little color marks. “Everyone can grab a brush and some paint. Remember, try to stay in the lines and no eating the paint.” she said just as a William, a small but sinister little boy, held out a brush full of midnight blue to Reagan. William, Lacey knew, always dared Reagan to do things. And, of course, Reagan always took to the bait.
Two hours and a large headache later, Lacey and Aaron sat in the front row of the auditorium alone and looked at the final product. The kids rushed off with the promise of milk and cookies. Most of them covered with paint, all of them with smiles on their faces.
The backdrops stood hanging on stands so the paint would dry. To the close eye, they appeared to be painted by a bunch of fourth graders. Well, they had been painted by a bunch of fourth graders. But, when Aaron and Lacey took seats in the front row, they decided they looked better, a little.
Over the next few weeks, Lacey found herself even busier than normal. With Christmas just around the corner, she found it harder and harder to divide her time between the restaurant, her house, swim lessons, and Aaron’s place.
This week, in particular, was a very busy week because she was attempting to help her very good friend Allison, close her family business, Adams Antiques. Lacey had baby sat Allison and her sister, Abby when they were younger. Abby had died years ago with Leukemia, just after their father had died, leaving Allison and her mother alone. Allison had then taken over her family’s business at a young age.
Allison was moving to Los Angeles, to better start her art career. A career that Megan had helped kick off by taking some of Allison’s art to Ric Derby, a friend who owned The Blue Spot, a large chain of art galleries.
Currently, Lacey and Megan were helping Allison pack up some remaining items in the store for shipment to California.
“I can’t thank you enough for coming and helping me out. I’ve never dreamed I would be leaving Pride to pursue my dreams.” Allison sat in the middle of the shop floor with boxes and tissue paper surrounding her. “Did you know Ric called me this morning and said that he sold twelve of my pieces? Twelve!” she stared at her two friends. All three of the women were sitting around the mi
ddle of the floor packing various trinkets and nick-knacks into the boxes.
Megan was currently in the last trimester of her pregnancy and sat happily on a large cushion but her feet were still tucked Indian style.
“I knew it. The minute I saw your art I just knew it would be a big hit.” Megan smiled. “I just wish you were staying in town a little longer, at least until I give birth.” she rubbed her growing stomach.
“Me too, but I’ll be back this summer to visit. It’s only a days drive up and it’s not like I’m moving across the country like you did.” she looked around the almost empty room and sighed.
“But, it’s still scary. I’ve never lived anywhere but here.” This had been her whole life. She could still close her eyes and see her and Abby sitting in the corner around a small antique table playing tea. Or look across the room and see her father and mother kissing behind the old wood counter top.