by Harlow James
“Hey.” Such a simple word coming from his lips, but it certainly gives me a ray of hope to cling to when it isn’t laced with disdain like I heard from him a few days ago.
“Hi.”
Dylan slides into the booth, leaning back and resting his hands on the table, clasping his fingers together.
“Mac…”
“Dylan..”
We both speak at the same time, causing us to chuckle.
“Sorry, you go first,” I rush out.
“Okay. I…” he sighs and then shakes his head. “I owe you an apology.”
My brows shoot up in shock. I thought I was the one who was apologizing here, not the other way around.
“Why?”
“For how I treated you Tuesday night. I was an ass and you didn’t deserve that.”
“Oh. Okay. Thank you. But… I’m the one who’s supposed to apologizing to you. I understand why you were upset with me and you had every right to be.”
He peers up at me beneath his dark lashes, the type that women go crazy for—believe me, they drove me wild plenty. “I want to know how this all happened. I… I need you to start from the beginning.”
I take a deep breath, trying to recall my words I practiced on the way over here. “Okay. Here goes. I was struggling to find an idea for a story to write, which hasn’t really happened to me before. You’ve seen my notebooks I keep everywhere. They are always full of ideas, but nothing was calling to me. Then I saw this article about a couple who fell in love reaching for the same container of macaroni and cheese at Costco, and I became obsessed with this idea of two people meeting like that and falling in love in real life. I was convinced they couldn’t be the only ones who could experience that, so I started stalking people at The Castle Market, waiting for my ‘meet cute” to happen,” I say, mimicking quotations around the words.
“Meet cute?” he asks, not familiar with the term.
“Yeah. It’s the part of the story where the characters meet for the first time, and usually it’s something funny or silly that draws in the attention of the reader immediately.”
“I see.”
“So, I started going to the store multiple times a week, eating cookies while I watched people and waited for a love story to unfold before my eyes, but it never happened.”
The corner of his mouth tips up. “Never?”
“Nope. And I was growing frustrated, ready to throw in the towel completely… until you offered me water that first night and I felt it.”
“Felt what?”
I lock my gaze on him. “The spark.”
He doesn’t say anything, so I just continue. “I’d never had that reaction to a man before like I did with you. There was something about you that drew me in. But at the same time, my past relationships made me weary of giving you a chance when you started to pursue me. It’s why I denied going out with you. I was scared, especially because I found you so damn attractive.” He laughs and I smile. “But then I realized that our meet cute—the customer and the butcher striking up a friendship that could turn to something more—was my story I was searching for. Ideas started pouring out of me, and the more we spoke and then started spending time together, the more I realized that you were the type of man I write about—a true book boyfriend—but you were real.”
Dylan shifts in his chair as I grow emotional, the sting of tears making me squint.
“You said all the right things, Dylan. You made me feel special and seen—and you gave me a confidence that I hadn’t ever felt with another man. You are this man who is dedicated to his family, likes a simple life, and always has a way of making me feel safe. I was falling for you, and I knew my readers would too, so I just kept writing, and what started out as fiction became so real because I was writing about what I was feeling—what you made me feel.”
“Mac…”
I hold my hand up. “No. Please let me finish.” He nods so I take another deep breath. “I had every intention of telling you about the book. I would never publish something so personal—not just for you but for me too—unless I knew you were comfortable with it. The morning you saw it on my computer… I was going to share it with you over coffee. I wanted you to read it for yourself and approve. And if you didn’t, then I wasn’t going to publish it and just keep it for us—a memento of how we fell in love—something we could share with our children someday, minus the sex that is.”
His laugh makes me feel lighter and more optimistic by the second.
“But it wasn’t finished either because I didn’t know how to end it and I wanted your input on that.”
“You did?”
“Yes. And it’s still not finished…”
“Why is that?”
A tear slips free and I reach up to brush it away. “Because romance readers need a happy ending, and I didn’t know if I could give them that. I… I didn’t know if we were going to get ours.”
Dylan eyes me across the booth, his head tilted slightly in contemplation, but he’s still not saying much. So, I break out my last ditch effort to convince him that I can’t live without him in my life.
I reach into my purse and place the wrapped gift in front of him as my heart hammers uncontrollably.
“What’s this?” he asks as he sits forward and grabs the present.
“A gift. It was supposed to be for Christmas, but I figure most people get to open at least one gift on Christmas Eve, so this can be yours.”
His fingers slide under the tape, releasing the stickiness from the wrapping paper as he gently unfolds the red and gold paper and sees what’s inside. Once he’s extracted the frame, his eyes flick up to mine once before studying the picture.
“This is from…”
“The fall festival. Our first date. It’s the picture that the photographer took of us right as we entered the event.”
“I forgot all about this.”
“I did too, until I found the card with the QR code on it in my coat pocket. I hadn’t worn that coat since that day, and I had it on when I was in the store Tuesday night. As I was leaving after you basically pushed me away with your words, I put my hand in the pockets and found the card, realizing I never looked up our picture to see it. So I did.”
He’s still staring at the photo, running his fingers along the edge of the frame.
“The way you are looking at me here,” I say, pointing to the picture, causing him to finally veer his eyes to me, “I’ve never had a man look at me like that in my life, Dylan. That’s when I knew that no matter what happens, I know that at least I’ve experienced love from someone that encompasses the entire meaning of the word. You gave me unconditional adoration, a friend that I never wanted to be away from and craved more each time we were apart, a man that…”
Dylan makes me freeze as he leaps from his side of the booth and pushes me over in mine before grabbing my lips and kissing me breathless. His hands frame my face as he swipes his tongue against mine and I drown in him. I’m embarrassed by the moan that escapes my throat, but at the same time, I don’t care—because the only thing that exists right now is him and me and knowing that I didn’t mess this thing up entirely between us. In fact, maybe his kiss is an indication that I found the right words to use after all.
Dylan’s kiss is deliberate and intense, but also the type of kiss that makes you melt. And I do—I melt into a puddle of warm, gooey chocolate—or maybe peanut butter would be more appropriate since it’s Dylan I’m kissing here.
Finally, he releases my lips from his, but doesn’t let go of my face, gazing down into my eyes with such intense sincerity, it makes me cry.
“I’m sorry,” he breathes out, and my body stiffens. Is he sorry for kissing me, sorry he can’t do this, sorry that he’s about to walk away?
“I’m sorry I ever doubted you and what we have,” he finishes and I instantly relax.
“No, I’m sorry. I let my real life interfere with my work and it almost cost me everything that has ever mattered.”
&
nbsp; He shakes his head, giving me one more soft kiss before he leans back and releases my face from his palms, finding my hands instead. “Mac… I remember the first time I saw you in the store. Your red hair caught my eye from the side, and then I saw your ass.” He laughs and I reciprocate. “But then you turned around and I saw you shove a cookie in your mouth, and that’s when I knew—I had to know you. Who was this woman who felt so comfortable to walk around the grocery store while snacking on cookies, looking around as if you were searching for the answers to how the world works. You fascinated me and I watched you for weeks before I finally found the courage to speak to you.”
“You… you were watching me?”
He nods. “Yeah. Not in a creepy way, but more in a studious way, like I was getting to know you just by watching how you moved and the way your face morphed when you were deep in thought. I was transfixed. And now it’s ironic really,” he pauses, which makes me curious.
“What’s ironic?”
His smile builds as his eyes bounce back and forth between mine. “All that time you were walking around the store, waiting to watch two people fall in love… but I was falling in love with you.”
His words leave me frozen in time as I commit this moment to memory. “You were?”
“Yes. And now that I know you, know the incredible woman that you are, I just want to love you eternally. If you’ll let me that is…”
My lips find his again before we part and I stare back at him. “I’m so in love with you, Dylan. You are who I was waiting for, who I’m meant to be with.”
“I love you so much, McKenzie. I think I knew you were it for me from the first flash of this red hair.”
Dylan dives back in for another kiss just as the sound of a door swinging open and hitting a wall shocks us both.
“You made up!” Brooke shouts, garnering looks from the few people scattered around the pub. It is a holiday, but people still need to drink, probably now more than ever. Hell, I knew there’d be a few shots of tequila with my name on them if things hadn’t worked out the way they did.
“Jesus, Brooke. Yes, we’re good.” My hand is resting over my heart as it pounds violently, part from elation and part from nearly being scared to death.
“Damn right. I told you he’d be a fool not to forgive you.”
“Hey, I’m sitting right here,” Dylan chimes in.
“Oh, yeah. Hey, Dylan. Thanks for not being a douche, although I didn’t really think you were one. But with men, you never know.” She shrugs. “Now go home and bone you two. Tomorrow is Christmas. Be merry and shit. I’m headed home to my own man so we can fulfill our Mr. and Mrs. Claus fantasy.”
Dylan groans. “Too much information, Brooke.”
“Get used to it,” I murmur out of the corner of my mouth, then look around him at my best friend. “Have fun. And thank you for being here.”
“Always,” she says with a wink and then leans down to kiss both of our cheeks before waving us off as she flies out of the door she just came in.
Dylan turns back to me, pulling me closer to him. “You ready for some hot make-up sex? I heard it’s the best part about fighting?”
My smile is instantaneous, and so is the throbbing between my legs. “Yes. Let’s go to my place. It’s closer.”
“Deal.”
Dylan follows me home and we make sure our first round of make-up sex is one we won’t soon forget so we’ll always remember that at least when we fight, we have that to look forward to in the future.
***
“Fuck me.”
I can’t hide my smirk as I turn around to see Dylan’s face now that I know he’s awake.
“Are you kidding me with this outfit? This is like… all of my adult and childhood fantasies about Christmas coming to life.”
“I’m not going to lie. I’m slightly concerned about what you just said, but I’m going to assume part of your reaction is due to a lack of blood flow to your brain, so I’m going to let you slide.”
“Yeah. That’s probably true because all of my blood is rushing to my dick right now. You look sexy as fuck, Mac.” He groans as I turn back around and reach into the oven just as the timer goes off. I pull out the tray of cookies and then shut the door as I hear the rush of Dylan’s body close the space between us and press up against my backside.
He reaches around my torso and holds my back to his chest, growling in my ear as my breathing quickens from the lust running through me. Dylan is showing me a slightly rougher side of him right now, and I don’t hate it at all. “You’re standing here in a slutty Mrs. Claus outfit, bent over in front of me so I can clearly see that you’re not wearing any underwear under this pathetic excuse for a skirt, and then you pull warm, freshly baked peanut butter cookies from the oven? You’re lucky I’m not coming all over your ass right now, Mac.”
His hand finds my ass and gives it a little smack before he’s pulling down his pajama pants and turning me towards a portion of the counter next to the stove, pushing me forward slightly so that he can run his cock through my pussy that is entirely too ready for him.
He pushes into me so quickly, I gasp at the intrusion, but fuck if it doesn’t feel so good.
Dylan came home with me last night and we made up all night long before we finally passed out. Before our little fight, I bought this outfit online to surprise him with on Christmas morning, and I have to say I’m so glad that I was able to still see that through, especially as Dylan pounds into me from behind as the smell of peanut butter fills the air.
He has to be in hog heaven right now.
“Fuck, Mac. God, I love you, woman.” His fists grabs my hair, pulling me up slightly so my back in bowed and he can lean forward far enough to kiss me. He’s being rough, but still soft enough not to hurt me, the perfect blend of carnal and sweet that has me fighting off my release faster than I anticipated.
When our lips part, I tell him the words back that I’ve been so eager to say for a while now. “I love you too, Dylan.”
“Are you ready to come with me?”
I nod as Dylan finds my clit and rubs me softly, barely getting out the word in time before my orgasm takes over. “Yes…”
“Fuck, Mac. That’s it, baby. God, I’m gonna come.” And he does, filling me up so that when he pulls out, his release drips down the inside of my leg.
With his head resting on my shoulder, and my arm wrapped around his neck, we stay still for a few moments to gather ourselves before Dylan helps clean me up and he pulls his pants back up, shaking his head at me.
“What?” I say with a mischievous grin.
“That was the best way to wake up on Christmas. I’m… I’m speechless.” He reaches for a cookie now that they’ve cooled a bit and takes a big bite.
“Better than a shit ton of presents under the tree?”
“Uh… yeah. When I was eight, I didn’t know what sex was. Now… sex trumps presents. Hands down.”
A fit of laughter breaks free as I scoop more dough onto the cookie sheet to bake the rest of the cookies for Dylan’s family dinner today.
“Glad to know where your priorities lie.”
I feel his hand on my shoulder, forcing me to turn to him. And when I do, my heart swells with love for him. “You are my priority,” he says earnestly. “You always will be my priority, McKenzie. I meant everything we talked about last night. It’s you. It always will be. And if I ever make you doubt that, I promise, I will fight to make you believe it again.”
My bottom lip trembles as I try to hold it together. “I want all of my tomorrows with you, Dylan. It’s you and me, okay?”
He nods. “Okay. As long as I can have peanut butter forever too.”
“And cookies for me.”
“Deal,” he says and smacks my ass once more before pouring us two cups of coffee. We eat cookies for breakfast, partake in one more round of sex in my slutty attire, and then get ready to spend the holiday at his parents’ house.
And that night, as I sit on
the couch in his parents’ living room, wrapped in Dylan’s arms, I soak in the presence of family, the heart of good people, and the joy that my job ended up bringing me in my real life. I write about love for a living, but I finally found my own, and I plan on continuing to fall for Dylan over and over again forever.
Epilogue
Dylan
One Year Later
“A number one best seller on Amazon, babe? I knew all the ladies would fall in love with me. Seems you’ve got some competition now.”
McKenzie rubs her belly as she sits in her chair at the dining room table. “I’m pretty sure now that I’m carrying your baby, I’ve locked you down for good. But don’t worry. If I have to fight some women, I will. Pregnant or not.”
The woman could never get rid of me if she tried, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like teasing her, especially since it is my picture on the cover of her book.
It’s been almost a year since McKenzie and I ‘met’ and our love story, appropriately titled Meat Cute—a hilarious rom-com about a romance author falling for her neighborhood butcher, just released a few days ago. I didn’t realize how long it actually takes for the book to be released to readers between writing the book, editing, formatting, picking a cover and release date, and then gearing up for a release. After watching her work and learning more about what exactly her job entails, I have a new found respect for what she does. It isn’t easy.
And she puts her words out in the world for people to scrutinize. The first time I read one of her bad reviews, I about lost my shit. She shrugged it off, saying she tries not to let them get to her anymore, but I still don’t get why some people have to be downright cruel. If you don’t like a book, move on with your life—don’t tear apart someone else’s hard work and bravery that it takes to write a book in the first place.
“Well, we knew having a shirtless hunk on the cover would definitely up the appeal, particularly since it is our story inside.”
Yes, I am on the cover of our book, the story about how we fell in love. At first, I was apprehensive about putting our life out there, including personal details and even putting my face on it. But after I read the story, I knew what McKenzie wrote was magical—the perfect holiday romance that encompassed the few months it took for us to fall in love. The way she described the holidays, how she felt about me, her internal struggle with accepting that a man could truly love her and accept her—well, I knew there were other women like her out in the world that needed to hear it and believe in it too—which is why I fully supported publishing it.