As much as I'm dreading having to come back to reality and face my everyday life again, I'm looking forward to Christmas. Carina and Grace won't be there, and I'll miss them, but I'm excited to spend that time with Mom. I feel like the last few years, I've been so dragged down by everything happening in my life, I haven't been able to enjoy the holidays like I used to. For the first time in so long, I actually have that fluttery feeling of my excitement that comes along with the Christmas spirit. I might even bake a gingerbread house this year. Most of the candy usually ends up in my mouth or on the floor, but I've managed to convince myself that a minimalist architectural approach and streamlined curb appeal is what all Gingerbread families want nowadays.
Grant seems relieved to see the preparations are nearly complete when we arrive at the marina. Various traffic blocks similar to what’s set up during a film shoot keep curious onlookers away, but we’re escorted right to the action. The two of us walk out to the edge of the dock to examine the spectacularly accurate pirate vessel in front of us more closely.
“Where did you find something like this?” I ask.
“I didn’t find it,” he says. “Seth did.”
“Your brother Seth?” I ask.
Grant nods.
“He lives in Vegas and handles a lot of the more extreme requests. I was going to just give him this one altogether, but Kurt was insistent on staying with me.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure. He doesn’t seem to particularly like me,” Grant admits. “But I think it has something to do with him saying I’m the original, and he wants only the very best from the company.”
“Makes sense,” I say. “Original brother. Original company founder.”
“He should be around here somewhere, actually.”
As if he heard Grant talking, Seth suddenly pops out over the top of the robin’s nest high overhead. He’s wearing a black pirate hat with a lavish plume, and his face looks nothing short of giddy. He waves down at us.
“Ahoy, there, landlubbers!” he shouts.
Grant shakes his head at his youngest brother, but I can see a glint of mischief in his eyes.
Must be a guy thing.
“What are you doing up there?” Grant asks.
“Checking out the ship,” Seth says. “I got some upgrades on it a couple weeks ago, and I haven’t had a chance to check them all out yet.”
“Thanks for doing this for me.”
“Absolutely. Happy to be of service.”
He dips out of sight, and I laugh.
"Hey, Grant," a baritone voice calls out.
Grant turns toward the voice, and I can see him struggling not to let a grimace take over his face.
"Kurt," he says in greeting. “Are you ready?”
"I just have to get into my costume," Kurt says.
"Alright." I see Kurt eyeing me. His tongue rolls over his lips as he looks me up and down, and Grant takes a half-step to get between us. "This is Emma," he says.
"Hey, Emma," Kurt says, sounding for all the world like he’s not a grown man about to play dress up.
He looks like he's a second away from offering me a spot as his wench.
Yeah, no.
"Honey," I say, looking at Grant and resting my hand on his upper arm. "I'm going to go find some coffee. There has to be some around here, right?"
Grant's eyes flicker with a concealed laugh, but he wraps his arm around my waist.
"Alright, babe," he replies. "If you can't find any, I'm sure someone can go get you some."
I walk away, without any idea on where to even begin looking for coffee, and let out a yip as Grant gives me a light tap on my ass. I glare over my shoulder at him, and he grins back.
A few minutes later, I’m walking back to where I left them. I've managed to find a drip pot on a table that had been set up with breakfast for the crew before we arrived, and I'm carefully carrying a tiny cup of the brew. I have a feeling they're holding out on me. Kurt is doing stretches, and Grant is watching him with a bemused expression.
"How's everything going?" I ask.
Grant shrugs.
"I have to admit, he seems more cut out for this than he did the firefighting request."
Kurt walks over to us, and this time his eyes stay firmly locked away from me. I wonder if Grant said something to him while I was gone.
"When are we getting started?" Kurt asks.
"Should be any minute now," Grant tells him. "How are you feeling?"
"Feeling good. I think I'm ready."
"Great. Remember, it may seem daunting at first, but the rest of the pirates are actors. They’ll take your example. Just lead with your sword."
Words to live by.
An hour and a half later, I walk up to Grant where he's sitting at one of the picnic tables set up along the edge of the marina. Seth’s pirate hat is sitting in front of him, and he seems to be contemplating it deeply.
Swinging my leg over the bench, I straddle it, facing Grant.
"Is something wrong?" I ask.
“Other than what we just witnessed, and the fact that Carson wasn’t a part of it?”
“He would have loved it,” I agree. “I bet the Oh My Damn would have led the fleet to victory. Speaking of which, wasn’t Kurt supposed to be the one who won?”
“Yeah, but I think the actors were getting tired of him. I don’t know if he even noticed, though. He seems pretty excited about the whole thing.”
“Well, that’s good. Other than all that, though. Is there anything wrong?”
"No," he says. "I'm fine. I was just thinking about what happens when we get back to Magnolia Falls."
"What do you mean?"
"That's the thing, I don't know."
I smile at him.
"I guess we'll just figure it out."
Grant reaches up and runs the pad of his thumb over my lips, sending a ripple of emotion through me. That tender gesture is so simple, and yet seems to carry so much meaning.
"Yeah," he says quietly. "I guess we will."
Chapter Twelve
Grant
One week later…
The words Emma whispers in my ear as we drive make it very difficult to concentrate on the road ahead of us. It was challenging enough to hide her hand inside my pants during the ferry ride over to the island, but this is worse. Now I'm trying to navigate the back way through our neighborhood without getting distracted and taking out any illuminated snowmen from the various yard displays. This is made all the more difficult when I notice Emma slip her hand up her skirt and wiggle her red lace panties down her thighs. Easing them off over her feet, she dangles them from one finger, then tosses them into the backseat. Now I know her tight body is completely bare beneath the skirt, and there is nothing stopping me from bending her over the dining room table the moment we get inside.
As soon as we turn onto the street where Emma and I live, I get a sinking feeling that isn't going to happen. Judy’s car is parked in front of Emma’s house. I love Judy, but for the love of god, not now. As I pull in, I glance over at the place Wyatt is subletting, and I'm relieved to see a 'for rent' sign in the front yard. I'm not sure what happened with Mrs. Markowitz and her daughter, but I'm sure I'll hear the story later. Gossip and rumors are like the flu virus in Magnolia Falls. When it's cold outside, and people are kept in close quarters for too long, they spread a lot faster. Right now, all that matters to me is that Emma's ex-husband isn't living a few hundred feet away from her, and she might have a chance to breathe a little better.
Emma notices Judy's car outside her house a few seconds after I do. She drops back down to sit in her seat and takes her hand away from my lap. A concerned expression crosses her face, and she looks up at me.
"What do you think she's doing here?" she asks.
I do my best to reassure her. "I'm sure everything's fine.”
"She didn't call me, or anything," she says.
"That's because you left your phone here, remember? You didn't
want to be bothered by phone calls from Wyatt?"
"But I gave her your phone number," she says. "If there was something seriously wrong, she could have called you."
"Which leads me to believe nothing serious has happened, Emma. It's only a week until Christmas. She's probably come over to make cookies, and string popcorn, and knit stockings."
She looks at me with an amused expression.
"Is that what you think women do during the Christmas season?" she asks. "We just sit around the house baking cookies, stringing popcorn, and knitting stockings?"
I shrug.
Emma laughs and leans across the car to kiss me. When I try to deepen the kiss, she pulls back.
"Is something wrong?" I ask.
"It's just…" she hesitates. "It's just I'm not sure if I want her to see us kissing. I don't think I'm ready for other people to know anything's going on between us."
"What is going on with us?" I ask.
She knows what I mean. Anyone walking by one of our hotel rooms for the last week could tell you something is happening between us, but there's more to the question than that. Emma's eyes soften, but she doesn't say anything. She reaches up and runs her hand along the side of my cheek, and I turn my face to kiss her palm. Even though she said she isn’t ready for other people to know about us, I think she really means that she's not ready to face it herself. We get out of the car, and she rushes up to her house. She pulls her key out of her bag, but before she can unlock the door, it swings open, and Judy rushes toward her with open arms.
"Emma! I'm so glad you're home. I missed you."
Emma hugs her back.
"I missed you too," she says. "What are you doing here?”
I walk up behind her, carrying on her bags, and Judy looks at me.
"Hi, Grant. How did everything go?"
Emma and I look at each other, and I can see the glint in her eyes.
"It went really well," I answer. "Thanks for asking. How has your Christmas break been so far?"
She nods.
"Great," she says. "I've made at least a dozen batches of cookies. I’ve almost finished up the last of my knitting for gifts.” Her eyes light up. “Oh! And you're just in time to help me. I'm working on stringing a popcorn garland for Emma’s Christmas tree."
I struggle not to laugh, and Emma's does the same. She shakes her head slowly, then tilts it, looking at Judy questioningly.
"You still didn't tell me why you're here," she says.
Judy steps out of the way to let us into the house. The air is laced with the smell of cinnamon, sugar, and popcorn, and it’s warm and welcoming.
"Roaches," Judy explains.
My mind snaps out of its Christmas-scented daydream, and I look at Emma. Her expression is horrified.
"Roaches?" Emma asks, her voice lifting to a higher pitch.
"Yep," Judy says. "Roaches all over the place."
Emma looks around frantically.
"Oh, no. Oh my god. Where?"
"Not here!" Judy reassures her. "At my house. Why would I come stay at a house full of roaches if my house didn't have any?"
Emma shakes her head.
"I don't know. Maybe you bonded with them?"
Judy looks at her seriously.
"I do not bond with disgusting insects," she says.
"Why are you here, though?" Emma asks.
"Did we not just establish that your house does not have roaches?"
"Why is your house infested?" Emma asks.
Judy lets out a burdened sigh as she drops down onto the couch and reaches for the nearly finished popcorn garland she's been working on. She takes a piece of popcorn from one of the large bowls beside her.
"Apparently those little boogers are travelers. According to Zeke the Exterminator, the combination of a foundation leak and the remnants of a party that was never fully cleaned up out of a basement proved irresistible to all of Magnolia Falls’ roach population. Unfortunately for Gram, and by extension me, that particular invasion happened next door. They decided they wanted to take the DIY approach to their uninvited house guests, who quickly caught on and started the exodus to my house. Zeke says if they were going to treat their house, they should have informed Gram, and the neighbor on the other side, so we would have the opportunity to treat our house, and make it less of a welcoming party for them. Since we didn't get that memo, we ended up as the new Roach Embassy."
"It sounds pretty prestigious when you put it that way," Emma says.
Judy narrows her eyes at her but tosses a piece of popcorn into her mouth.
"It sounds creepy, is what it sounds like." Her expression suddenly changes into a smile, and she holds out her hands to gesture to the living room. "But, now I'm here.”
Emma nods.
"I'm glad," she says. “It looks nice in here, I must say."
I look around at the decorations Judy has obviously added to the room. A towering plastic fir, centimeters shy of being too big for the room occupies a previously empty corner, and twinkle lights dance happily among the branches. Judy has also hung garlands and tinsel throughout the space, and a row of tiny stockings adorn the fireplace.
I swing my eyes over to them and then back at Emma, who narrows hers at me. I want to gather her into my arms and kiss her, but I resist.
"Thank you. I felt it had too much of a Grinch-chic vibe happening."
"I am not a Grinch!" Emma protests. "I just hadn't gotten the chance to start decorating yet."
"I had to bring my own tree and decorations," Judy points out.
"I also haven't had the chance to buy a tree or decorations yet," Emma says. "Wait. Where's your great-grandmother? Did you bring her here, too?"
"No," Judy says. "My brother came and picked her up. His house only has one bathroom for five people, though, so I decided to come over here until the extermination is done." She suddenly looks concerned. "You don't mind, do you?" she asks.
"Of course, not," Emma tells her. "It'll be nice to have you around for a few days.”
Judy grins and returns to stringing her popcorn. Emma looks up at me, and I know, just by the look on her face, she won't be coming home with me today. We obviously can't be here, and she won't want Judy asking questions if she comes to my house for long stretches of time without inviting her. Something tells me I'm going to have to throw myself into my work even more than usual the next few days.
The days tick by, and I'm starting to wonder if Judy's great grandmother's house was invaded by the queen of all roaches and can now be referred to as its own country. Emma and I have managed to sneak in little snippets of time together, but it’s not nearly enough. It’s only been a week, but I already miss holding her in my arms at night and waking up to her face in the morning like I did while we were traveling. Now the day has finally come for Judy to head back into her freshly de-roached home, and with the promise of a visit on Christmas in two days, she has gone on her way. I'm on my way over to Emma's house with plans to keep her occupied until Christmas Eve when my phone rings. I want to ignore it, but something tells me to pick it up. When I do, I look at the screen and recognize the name of a client I worked with several months ago. By far the wealthiest and most influential of my clients, Neil Kleinfelder has been interesting to work with. He can afford to do virtually anything on the face of the planet, and yet his bucket list requests are normally simple and straightforward. A few had intriguing twists that took them slightly over the top, but for the most part, Neil was nothing but humble and quiet. I liked him a lot, and I really enjoyed working with him. Still, I can't imagine why he's calling me now. We fulfilled all the items on his bucket list, and even added a few more at the very end. He seemed extremely happy about the outcome of each of his experiences and ended up recommending DreamMakers to his expansive network of friends and personal contacts. Several have become clients in the last few months.
The call causes me to take a detour back to my house, but as I'm heading to my computer to start some research, I send a
quick message to Emma. I have something special planned for her tonight, and I want to make sure she's ready when I pick her up. The call I got from Mr. Kleinfelder might have changed my plans for the next few days, but I hope Emma will go along with me.
By the time the sun sets and I'm ready to pick up Emma, I’m tired of being on the phone, and looking forward to not thinking about work for a few hours. When she opens the door, Emma looks so beautiful it takes me a few seconds to even greet her. I kiss her, the softness of her lips and her gentle sigh making my cock spring to life.
"What do you have planned for tonight?" she asks, wrapping her arms around my waist and leaning back to look at me.
"It's a surprise," I tell her. "Just be patient."
We get into the car, and I watch her look around us as we drive, trying to figure out where we are going. I wonder how long it's going to take her to recognize the path we're taking, or if she even will. It's been a long time, and the last time we came this way was an entirely different time of year. Walking through a late summer afternoon is not the same as driving along in December darkness, and it might look different enough that she won't be able to tell where we're going. We’re a few hundred yards away when I stop the car. We're surrounded by trees, and she looks at me hesitantly.
"Here?" she asks.
"We're not quite there, yet," I explain to her. "We’re going to walk the rest of the way."
Emma nods and waits while I walk around to open her door and help her out of the car. Holding hands, I guide her down the rarely-used path. It's almost invisible, but I followed it so many times, I don't need to see it. My feet know this part of Magnolia Falls better than anyone else, and I can guide her through it. We've been walking for a few minutes when she looks over at me, a knowing smile playing on her lips. I nod to confirm her suspicions, and she squeezes my hand in return. Soon, we step out from the cover of the trees and onto the ridge. Ahead of us, the campfire I had Frank build for us crackles and shoots little sparks up into the crisp night air. Beyond the edge of the ridge is the glow of the drive-in. Notthehotel Johnson squeezed every strand of Christmas lights he possibly could into the Outdoor Theater, setting the perfect atmosphere for the Christmas carol sing-along planned for tonight.
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