Snowflakes and Holly

by Jae Dawson

  “Telling me to comb my hair, more like it,” Gramps said. “That woman did love to boss a man about.”

  “Yeah, well, you did make it easy,” Cade quipped.

  “That I did.”

  We disbursed through the aisles, looking at costume options. Maple Lane’s Halloween dinner and dance was scheduled for the week after Gramps moved into his new apartment, so it was important for him to make a good impression.

  I pulled off the rack an old-timey golfer costume complete with newsboy cap, knee-length knickers, and argyle socks; a red British beef-eater costume with a huge fuzzy black hat; and a vintage racecar driver suit that looked to be a model of the suit worn by Steve MacQueen in the 70’s movie, Le Mans. I had only seen it because Mamma was a fan of Steve MacQueen—really, any handsome man.

  Cade found a renaissance-looking velvet ensemble and a circus ringmaster costume with an outrageous top-hat.

  Amused, Cade plopped the shaggy beef-eater hat on his head before putting the top-hat on mine, sticking out his tongue like Gene Simmons. I sputtered with laughter and shoved him away, rolling my eyes at him—again. His eyes, however, traveled the length of me, slowly. I was wearing tight jeans and a vintage style cherry print black halter top beneath my short cardigan, the outfit complete with a pair of candy apple red strappy heels. And that look on his face, the way his mouth softened . . . I needed to distance myself before I pushed him into a dark corner and finished what he had started the other day.

  “Here.” I dumped my costume selections into his hands and then pointed to the dressing room. “Spit spot,” I added with a terrible British accent, tipping my top hat.

  And strangely, he didn’t fight. Didn’t even flash me a flirty smile. Instead, he walked away—dazed.

  Gramps watched us, and I swore his eyes were twinkling.

  Cade returned and stopped before the older man and whispered in his ear.

  “I feel strong today,” Gramps said. “I can manage.” And, with that, he waddled into the dressing room while we plopped into the chairs outside to wait.

  “Do you ever wear costumes at your shows?” I asked, trying to keep from laughing at how ridiculous he looked with the equivalent of a black water-buffalo perched on his blond head.

  “Nope. The label and producers have tried a million times, but I don’t want to distract from the music any more than we already do.”

  “What, with your handsome face and washboard abs?” I joked lightly.

  “About time you noticed my abs.” Cade nodded sagely. “What about you, are you a Halloween fangirl?”

  “Longing for fangirls, are we?

  “Only one.” He slid me a sly appraisal.

  I blinked. This man was going to be the death of me. “Well, I do consider myself a fangirl—strictly for Halloween, though.”

  “Says the girl who follows my Instagram account.”

  My mouth opened and closed as the tips of my ears started burning. “That—I—are you internet stalking me?”

  Cade’s grin settled into smug satisfaction. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black.”

  My mind scrambled for an excuse and came up totally empty. “I may have followed you . . . like years ago. I don’t even remember . . .” Oh gawd. This was going downhill fast.

  “You should try something on.” Cade nodded to the racks of costumes, rescuing me from my utter mortification.

  Bless him. I latched on to the change of subject like the lifeline it was. “I’ll be at the show and won’t have anywhere to wear a costume.”

  “So what? Musical theater geeks love costumes. Get your fix.”

  “Stereotyping again?”

  “Nah, just being arrogant and getting my way.”

  “You’re not getting your way,” I countered.

  “Yet.”

  Gramps came out of the dressing room in the velvet renaissance costume. The costume swam on his narrow frame and, without the leggings on, his bony knees were sticking out of the trunkhose at an awkward angle. It took some seriously good legs to pull off those puffy pants with a cod piece, and Gramps, bless his heart, couldn’t quite deliver. I pressed my lips together to keep from chuckling.

  “Feel like a sofa set in all this velvet,” Gramps groused.

  Cade burst out laughing. “Try another.”

  Gramps retreated inside the dressing room.

  Stretching his arm over the back of my chair, Cade turned back to me. “If I find something for you, will you try it on?”

  I bit my lip, a plan forming. “Only if I get to pick out something for you.”

  He nodded. “Okay, back here in two minutes.”

  We bolted into the racks in separate directions. I breezed past fireman uniforms, Indiana Jones costumes . . . Cade was already ridiculously hot. I couldn’t put him in a costume that would make him even hotter. That just wouldn’t be fair. Plus, his playful arrogance deserved a proper reply.

  “One-minute warning!” Cade called out, just as I saw the perfect costume. My eyes lit up and I grabbed it, jogging back to the dressing rooms. I hovered in the aisle with the costume behind my back just as Gramps came out in the golfer costume.

  “Better,” I said.

  Cade reappeared from another aisle and tilted his head. His giant furry hat almost fell off and he had to put up a hand to rescue it. “That could work. But I think we need to try on the other ones to be sure.”

  Gramps grumbled and disappeared back into the dressing room, still surprisingly strong compared to his trip to Maple Lane. Cade had said he had good days and bad days.

  “Okay.” Cade grinned. “Are we ready?”

  “I found the perfect one.” I hadn’t had this much fun in . . . a long time. And, I couldn’t wait to see his expression when I beat him at his own game. “But you go first.”

  Cade pulled from behind his back a beautiful sage green gown that looked like an elven dream from Lord of the Rings. “This way you’ll look like a princess.” Something caught in his voice. Our eyes met.

  “It’s gorgeous.” Is that really how he saw me? Lovely and otherworldly and—

  “What did you find for me?”

  My eyes rounded. “Oh! Uh, nothing. I couldn’t find the right thing.” My costume was horrible compared to the gem he’d picked out for me and now I regretted my vengeance.

  Cade’s eyes narrowed and his head tilted. “What’s that behind your back then, Ms. Pagano?”

  “Nothing!” I backed up hastily, but he advanced on me and pulled it out from behind me.

  He stared at it wide-eyed for a moment, blinking. Then he turned to me. “A banana?”

  I was temporarily lost for an answer. The giant yellow costume had seemed like a funny joke and now I just felt like a moron.

  “You know, if you wanted to see my banana, you only had to ask.” Cade raised one devilish eyebrow.

  And I couldn’t help it, I burst out laughing. My laughter grew to a howl, and Cade joined in too.

  “You can’t be trusted at all!” he said through peals of laughter. “Look at this thing! I’m not putting this on.” Cade shook his head. “No way.”

  “A deal’s a deal, Mr. Owens.” My stomach ached from my laughter.

  “What are you two on about?” Gramps asked. We turned around and our laughter quieted. Gramps wore the racecar driver costume with a certain proud angle to his shoulders.

  “Damn Gramps,” Cade said. “I think that’s the one.”

  “Agreed.” I nodded. “A definite winner.”

  “Great. I’ll get this thing off and we can get out of here.” He returned to the dressing room.

  I seized the dress from Cade. “Let’s make this quick.”

  Cade let out a long-suffering sigh but nodded. Then he pointed at me. “No cameras. My publicist would kill us both. And she’s scary.”

  I crossed my heart. “Promise.”

  My cheeks hurt from smiling as I stepped into the dressing room to the right of Gramps, removed my clothes, and slipped into
the dress. It took some doing to get the zipper up by myself, but I managed. The dress fit like a glove, its fabric hugged the curves of my breasts and fell smooth as water over my hips.

  “Are you ready?” I called out to Cade.

  “I don’t think I can do this,” came his muffled reply.

  “So what?” I threw back at him. “Live a little.”

  “I’ll never forgive you.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic. Ready? One . . . two . . . three!” I emerged from the dressing room opposite from Cade, who was dressed like a giant yellow banana—his chiseled face emerging from a hole near the top of the fruit.

  I lost it. I doubled over with laughter—my hands on my knees.

  “What in God’s name are you wearing?” Gramps emerged from the middle dressing room, an amazed look on his face. “You don’t need to prove the size of your banana that badly.”

  I howled even louder.

  Cade scowled at us both, then stalked back into the dressing room. But the tip of the banana caught on the door and he struggled for a moment before disappearing.

  “Don’t take that dress off!” Cade called out, almost a threat. A playful one.

  Gramps shook his head and then hoisted the racecar costume over his shoulder. “I’m going to go rent this.” He shuffled off down the aisle toward the front of the store.

  “Do you need help?” I asked, noting the limp in his gait. Changing must have worn him out.

  He waved a hand, as if he’d be fine, and kept moving.

  I stepped back into the dressing room, unable to contain my smile. Ohmygod, I would never get that image out of my mind. The great, sexy Cade Owens, brought down to earth by a silly Halloween costume.

  The door to my dressing room opened and Cade stepped inside, shutting the door.

  What the—

  “Hey!” I whirled on him. Then my breath stopped. “Is Gramps okay?”

  “He’s fine.” Cade’s voice was soft. And close. His warm breath fluttered loose strands around my face. As for my breath—I wasn’t sure my lungs were capable of sucking in air anymore. Especially with the way he looked right now—dark jeans, a vintage band tee that clung to his muscled torso, blond hair disheveled from changing clothes.

  Cade took my hand and slowly twirled me around, his blue eyes undressing me with each turn. “I didn’t get a good look before.”

  He stopped me with my back to him, so we were both facing the mirror.

  Then his other hand fell to my hip and he stepped in close behind me.

  “This fits you like a dream.”

  His thumb wandered front and back in idle strokes over my hip bone. The fire of a thousand suns rolled through me and I nearly ground against him––just to see the pleasure in his hooded gaze, the aroused flush of his lips.

  Though I wanted to close my eyes and soak in the moment, to let my imagination run away with me, my gaze remained fixed on his in the mirror.

  “You need help getting out of this?” he asked.

  My mouth went dry, and any clever reply died on my lips. Yes, I most desperately wanted help getting out of this dress. I wanted it off and I wanted his clothes off and I wanted him to take me against the mirror in this dressing room with his grandpa waiting in the car. I didn’t care if his arrogant ass got its way. I just wanted Cade.

  A smile curved the corner of his mouth and he ever-so gently lifted my long hair over one shoulder before taking the zipper and trailing it slowly down to my lower back. The feather-light touch of his finger against the skin of my back left a trail of heat in its wake and I nearly forgot everything save his name, one that almost moaned from my lips in a plea.

  Holy shit.

  If Cade Owens unzipping a zipper was this flipping hot . . . I was done for.

  I held the dress to my front as I turned in his arms and stared at his chest. “Thank you,” was all I could manage to say—and it came out breathy and desperate.

  Then I looked up to find Cade’s hands cupping my face—and Cade’s lips crashing into my own. I fisted his shirt to pull him closer and he smiled against my mouth. The arrogant ass. But damn . . . his kiss. His touch. The feel of his hair brushing my face. His tongue parted my lips with expert ease, and we staggered back into the mirrored wall. I melted into him with an intensity that I hadn’t felt in years.

  Maybe ever.

  His trembling breath pulsed on my skin.

  Our eyes locked for a heady heartbeat, a thousand words and desires shared in just one charged look.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered hoarsely, right before his mouth captured mine again. This time slow, reverent—erotic—as if worshipping me.

  And God did I want him to worship me and never stop.

  His hands left my face to trail down my neck, my arms, until his fingers caressed the curves still covered by the gown dangling from my loose hold. Moonlight poured into my veins. The sensual feeling wrapping me in silken sheets and candlelight. I tilted my head to give him more skin, to encourage him to explore. He didn’t hesitate. His tongue traced patterns down my neck, past my collarbone, to the swell of my breasts and . . .

  Dear gawd.

  The heat building between my thighs throbbed. I arched my hips toward his. Wanting. Needing. Longing to feel the hardness of his body grind against the softness of mine. Dammit, he had too many clothes on. I reached for the hem of his shirt, but he gently grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head.

  Then his teeth—Blessed Mary—his teeth dragged the edge of the gown’s bodice down until one of my breasts sprang free. He moaned at the sight, a soft, growling sound that spread molten heat across my body until every nerve ending burned. His tongue darted out and licked the hardened tip of my nipple. A flick, a tease, before he sucked my breast into his mouth.

  I wanted to moan his name, pull on his hair, arch into him.

  “You two still changing?” a gruff voice called from outside the dressing room.

  Gramps.

  Cade lifted his lips back to mine in a lazy, soft caress. “I mean it,” he whispered. “You’re . . . beautiful.”

  “So are you.”

  He smiled against my mouth again—a happy kisser. Could he be any more perfect?

  “To be continued, Bella Pagano.”

  Then he was gone. Slipping out of the changing room and leaving me in a wild rush of sensation. Never, in all my time with Jason, had I felt anything even remotely close to what I felt now. I leaned my head back against the mirror and softly laughed. Maybe this seed of intention thing wasn’t so ridiculous after all.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Cade

  Gramps’s presence in the back seat was the only thing that kept me from ordering Bella to park on the side of the damn road so I could finish what we started in the changing room. God, I wanted to kiss her again.

  Bella was sexy and fiery and had a body I’d been dying to lay my hands on from the first day I had tripped over her near the Falls. And her breasts . . . I was about to moan just thinking of the soft swell pressed to my lips, my tongue hungry for every inch of skin I could taste.

  She was so unlike the women I normally dated or hooked up with. Most of them were scheming, borderline predatory as they approached me—like blonde lionesses stalking a tender young antelope.

  But back here, in Hartwood Falls, sleeping in my old room and attending rehearsals at my old school, plus simple fun with Bella and Gramps thrown in . . . I felt like I could finally breathe again. My grief over Gran had faded to a low ache, and all the chaotic noise of my normal life had quieted. I could finally hear myself think.

  And I was thinking about Bella.

  How good it would feel to stay here with her.

  A secret smile played across Bella’s face as she drove. I reached out my hand and lightly covered hers where it rested on the gear shift between us. She looked my way with an intensity I recognized. That kiss in the dressing room had been hot—surface-of-the-sun-hot, but it hadn’t been enough. We had unfinis
hed business, Bella and me.

  After that banana-costume debacle, I needed to reclaim some of my masculinity. And from the look of Bella’s plush, swollen lips when I left her pressed to the mirror—the gown to her waist, her dark hair cascading down her shoulders—I’m pretty sure my mission was accomplished.

  Bella pulled up in front of my house. Gramps got out slowly, using the door to brace himself to stand, and then started for the front door using his cane.

  “Want to come in?” My voice sounded awkward as hell—a little shaky, the pitch a touch too high. I had picked up supermodels and A-list celebrities, but none of that fake shit would work on Bella. “You could go through my record collection?”

  Our fingers had twined together of their own accord.

  “Sure.” She fought to keep a smile off her face—and failed.

  I grinned back. “Cool.”

  Cool? What was I, like fourteen?

  We floated up to the front door, hand-in-hand. I was already strategizing. I really couldn’t show her the kind of time I wanted to with Gramps in the house. I wanted her screaming my name loud enough to hear in the next county. So, maybe we’d take it slow. I could spend days lost in her kisses alone and be deliriously happy. High school bedroom—high school-like makeout session with a high school teacher—it was fitting.

  Song lyrics flitted across my mind.

  Moonlight and Belladonna

  My poison, my drug

  Moonlight and Belladonna

  You intoxicate me with your love.

  She was an intoxication I could crave and get lost in.

  But love?

  Not sure I would resist if this attraction became something more. Not sure I could.

  I reluctantly dropped her hand to open the door, ushering her inside, and paused. I had been so wrapped up in Bella that I totally missed the black Camaro parked across the street. But there was no missing the three people standing in my living room.

  I drew up short, blinking.

  “Cade, you didn’t tell me we had company,” Gramps said.

  “I . . . didn’t know,” I replied.