Holiday Sparks (5 page)

“I remember Lanie a little,” she said, peering at one of the framed photos on the wall. “She was ahead of us in school, though, right?”

“By three years. She ran with a more popular crowd that I did, though. And, because she was a girl, she could let her hair grow long rather than risk Ma hacking at with her scissors.”

She’d already moved on to the next photo, so he gestured to Kojak and walked through the kitchen to the back door, trying to tell himself it didn’t matter what she thought of his house.

It was a temporary holiday fling. Then she’d go back to Boston and he’d go back to the way things were before she came. A little lonely and a little boring at times, but overall he’d been happy. And once she’d left, with a little time and distance, he was sure he could be happy again. Pretty sure, anyway.

Chloe had forgotten how much she loved the sensation of flying over the snow, the wind tugging at her jacket and the speed making her shiver just a little. Her father had taken her riding with him often when she was little, but they’d hit a rough spot and had to sell the snowmobile. For some reason he’d never gotten around to buying another.

Bundled in Lanie’s gear and plastered against Scott’s back because his machine wasn’t really built for two people, she wasn’t cold so, as long as she held onto him and didn’t get thrown off the back, she was free to enjoy the ride.

Occasionally, when they hit a nice smooth patch, Scott would let go with his left hand and let it rest on her knee instead. It was a casual gesture—the kind of thing a boyfriend would do—and that increasingly hard to ignore part of her that wished that were the truth reveled in it.

“Are you warm enough?” he yelled over his shoulder.

“Yes!” Between the helmets and the wind and the engine, that was about as far as conversation could go.

She’d been surprised by his home. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected—maybe something more bachelor pad-like—but his house was cute and very neat. Maybe a little austere in the decorating department, but she liked a man who cherished family photos the way he obviously did.

When Scott turned off the main snowmobile trail onto what was essentially the snowmobiling equivalent of a cow path, she swallowed hard and held on tighter. The narrow, barely packed down trail wound tightly through the trees and she could tell by the sound of the engine they were climbing in elevation.

He finally stopped in a clearing barely big enough to turn the machine around and hit the kill switch. She looked around while they disentangled themselves from the sled and took off their helmets, but she couldn’t see what made the place worth going off the main trail for.

“This way,” he said, taking her hand to steady her in the snow. It wasn’t deep yet, but it was uneven and slushy from being filtered through the trees.

She could tell somebody had walked there since the last snowfall, but it obviously wasn’t a well-traveled path. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

When he cautioned her to step over a root she couldn’t even see because it was covered with snow, she realized he came here a lot and probably not just during sled season.

When they broke through the tree line, Chloe stopped, unable to believe the view. She could see almost all of her hometown, spread out below her. They weren’t very high up, but it was just enough to see over the surrounding woods. She could just make out the roof of her parents’ house, but it took her a few seconds to find Scott’s, tucked into the trees a little ways east.

“You can’t see as much in the summer,” he said, “when the trees are full, but right now you can see almost everything.”

Everything that mattered to him, anyway. She could hear it in his voice and see it on his face when she looked up at him. He loved this town she couldn’t wait to be free of when she’d went off to college, and it would probably never occur to him to live somewhere else. Not that she’d thought about what it would be like if he’d move to Boston…much.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, because it was obvious he expected her to say something.

And it was. With a blanket of snow and smoke puffing from many of the chimneys, it almost looked like a Christmas postcard.

It was a far cry from her crowded, noisy Boston neighborhood, and it couldn’t have illustrated any better the differences between them. Scott belonged here, in a place where everybody not only knew your name, but knew what you did in the second grade to get you called into the principal’s office.

She thrived on the city life. Anonymity. Museums and theatres and the ability to fulfill a craving for almost any cuisine at almost any hour. Forget the Monday night beef stew special. Not only could she have crab rangoon at three in the morning, but she could have it delivered.

“How come I’ve never been up here?” She’d lived there the first nineteen years of her life, but she’d never seen the town from that angle.

“This land was all owned by some guy from Connecticut for decades and he had it posted against trespassing. When his son inherited, he opened it for hikers in the summer and sledders in the winter. It took us—the snowmobile club, I mean—almost two years to fully develop the trail, but it connects two existing trails and really opened it up for us.”

He not only lived there, but he was invested in the place. In the people and in the town and even in the land. She’d never felt that bond with her home town. Instead she’d spent her teen years biding her time, waiting until she was old enough to leave it behind.

“I’m boring you,” he said, nudging her with his elbow.

“No. I think it’s great you were able to make a trail up here. It would be a shame not to be able to see this view.”

“So what now? You wanna keep going or are you ready to head back?”

There was a part of her enjoying the ride so much she wanted to keep going. But there was another part that felt herself getting sucked into his life—a life she didn’t belong in. She was just visiting.

Their relationship was supposed to be just about the sex. Nothing else. “Actually, I was thinking since we have to go back to your house anyway, maybe we could twist up
your
bedsheets for a change.”

He grinned and raised an eyebrow at her. “I think that’s one hell of an idea.”

They made it back to the snowmobile a lot faster than they’d make it to the look-out and he took off so fast she was surprised he didn’t blow the engine. They were definitely on the same page when it came to sex.

* * *

By the time they finally got the sled pulled into the garage, Scott was as revved up as his engine had been on the ride home and, as far as he was concerned, they couldn’t get naked fast enough.

House first, though, because the garage wasn’t heated and he wasn’t about to streak to his front door. He took her by the hand and led her across the yard as quickly as he could without making her jog, then slammed the door behind them. And she laughed when he divested himself of his snowmobiling gear in seconds and started helping her out of hers.

There was a brief loss of momentum when Kojak pushed his way in between them, nuzzling for a hello scratch. Scott tried to get away with a quick head rub, but the dog jumped up and put his paws on his shoulders, knocking Chloe a step backwards in the process.

“Okay, Kojak.” He gave the dog a good tousling, then pushed him down. Content with that, the dog went back to his oversized flannel bed, turned around a couple of times and flopped down. “Stay.”

Taking Chloe’s hand again, he led her to his bedroom—thank God he’d just changed the sheets—and resumed divesting them of their clothes. She helped, he grabbed a condom from his dresser, and within minutes he had her naked on his bed.

“Who decorated your room?” she asked, holding him off with one hand.

“I did.”

“It’s nice.”

“Whatever.” It was a bedroom. With some beige stuff and some blue stuff. Whatever had looked like it wouldn’t give him a headache. “I’d give you the grand tour, but I’m a little busy right now. Kinda hoping you’ll be busy too.”

She laughed and pushed him onto his back. “It’s not going to kill you to wait two minutes.”

“It might.” Every second he wasn’t touching her killed him a little bit more. “And speaking of two minutes, that might be all you’ve got left. Riding back, thinking about you naked in my bed, with the sled vibrating between my legs…let’s just say I’m ready.”

She straddled him and he tried to think about baseball and algebra and the rising cost of wire, but nothing helped. “Does that mean I’m not getting any foreplay?”

“Can we do it after the sex part?”

“I don’t think it’s foreplay after.”

Just when he thought he was going to embarrass himself with a premature display of just how much he was dying for her, she sat back on his thighs so he could roll on the condom.

And then, finally, she lowered herself onto his length. The friction was so exquisite he had to clench his fists to keep from grabbing her hips and pounding into her.

When she began riding him, lifting herself just high enough so he almost slid free before swallowing him in her warmth again, he reached up and cupped her breasts. He circled her nipples with his thumbs, wishing he could kiss her, but not wanting to stop her from what she was doing.

Her pace quickened and, when she threw back her head, he did grab her hips. He pushed her up, then pulled her down hard as he thrust his hips up to meet hers. She cried his name and, as her muscles tightened around him, he gave up any pretense of self-control and let himself go.

When she collapsed, panting, on top of him, Scott pushed her hair back and kissed her forehead. He couldn’t get enough of her. Unfortunately, thinking that led to thoughts of the near future, when he wouldn’t have her any more.

That wasn’t something he wanted to think about, so he forced himself to focus on the here and now. Chloe, naked in his arms. Her breath tickling his neck. Her heart beating next to his.

“That was fun,” she whispered.

“If you think that was fun, gimme five minutes.” He smiled and rolled her onto her back. “I owe you some foreplay.”

* * *

Chloe stepped back from the Christmas tree to examine her handiwork. “What do you think, Kojak?”

The dog barked once, then sat at her feet and stared at the tree as though expecting it to light up. His tail thumped the floor in a steady rhythm.

She laughed and scratched behind his ear. “I can’t plug it in yet. Not until he’s done for the day.”

“I’m done,” Scott said from behind them and she and the dog both jumped a foot. “I was working on the dining room, so you could have plugged it in.”

“Even if it wouldn’t have zapped you, we’d wait. You lugged most of the stuff out of the attic and trudged through the woods to find me a tree. The least we could do is let you be here for first lighting.”

She hadn’t even given a thought to the decorations until her mother mentioned them during their last phone call. In order to ease her mother’s mind about being gone practically the entire month of December, she’d promised to deck the halls in her absence. The orgasms must have distracted her.

But now the wreaths were on the door and the electric candles were on the windowsills. Every room downstairs had a theme, and it had taken her the better part of the day to set out the Christmas trains and angels and Santas and nutcrackers.

“I’m here now, so plug it in.”

She turned the overhead light off first, so when she plugged in the string of lights, the room was filled with the warm glow of primary colors. Scott had chosen a gorgeous tree and the decorations the family had collected over the decades filled it out perfectly.

When Kojak started nuzzling at one of the gifts under the tree—again—she shooed him away. “Not yet.”

“Those aren’t cookies, are they? Because he can get pretty mean if people don’t share their cookies.”

“No cookies. It’s a B-O-N-E and I think he can smell it.”

“Good thing you spelled it out, just in case he can’t.” He laughed when she swatted at his arm. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

A few minutes later he set a big, brightly-wrapped box under the Christmas tree. “That’s for you. From…us.”

He’d bought her a Christmas present. Considering she knew just how much he hated shopping, it gave her a serious case of the warm and fuzzies. Luckily, one of the two gifts under the tree was for him.

“Open it,” he said, handing the box to her.

“Right now?”

“Sure. It’s Christmas Eve Eve.”

“There’s no such thing as Christmas Eve Eve.”

“Sure there is. And, because the incredibly hot woman who lives here keeps dragging me away from work to have her way with me, I need to bust my ass for the rest of the afternoon. I’ll probably have to do a couple of hours in the morning, too, to finish up. But I’ll be gone before your parents get home.”

She didn’t want to think about him being gone. “I haven’t heard any complaints about me having my way with you.”

“That’s because you’re not around when I’m doing my timesheets, trying to remember when I was working and when I was being ravaged so I don’t have to put Master Electrician and Male Gigolo on my IRS forms this year.”

“Ravaged?” She laughed when he nodded. “Very funny.”

“Open it!”

“Okay. Give Kojak his first.” When the dog finally took off for the kitchen, triumphantly waving his beef-flavored chew bone in the air, she handed Scott the other gift. “This one’s for you.”

He grinned like a boy and tore the ribbons and paper off with the same kind of enthusiasm. Inside the box was a set of magnetic signs bearing the Quinn Electric logo. “Wow. These are awesome.”

“I noticed the ones on your truck are fading and you seem to be missing one. And, no offense, but whoever designed them missed the point of being able to read them from a distance. You can barely read the phone number, even if somebody was behind you at a red light. And…” She stopped, blushing. “Sorry, it’s a design thing.”

“They’re perfect,” he said. He kissed her, a quick brushing of his lips against hers, and then he tapped her box. “Open yours now.”

He’d given her the thickest, softest flannel pajamas she’d ever seen, in a rich cornflower blue. And, stitched over the left breast pocket, was a little embroidered dandelion.

“You’re always cold,” he said. “When I saw those, I thought of you, and the blue reminded me of your eyes. A friend of Freddy’s stitched the dandelion on for me.”

It was a perfect gift, she mused, running her thumb over the little yellow and green stitches. Thoughtful and personal, from a guy who obviously knew her better than she’d though. And maybe better than he’d intended to. “I love them. Thank you.”

“Merry Christmas Eve Eve.” He cupped her face and kissed her very thoroughly for a couple of minutes. “What do you say I help you try those pajamas on?”

“I don’t know. I’d hate to screw up your taxes.”

He laughed and pulled her onto his lap. “Let’s call this a Christmas bonus. Off the books.”