Christmas Tales - Brandon Witt Page 0,25
lightly ground against me. “All right, my man. My crazy man. And you’re going to have to get used to that nickname. It’s sticking.” He continued to rub his groin against mine. “But we are waiting for tonight. The Winnebago has been idling too long as it is.”
Disappointment flared, then confusion. “What?”
He grinned. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Then he was gone. The pressure of his hands, of his erection, of his presence gone.
Maybe he was right. I did feel like I was going crazy. That I’d been lost to craziness.
Before I could make sense of all I was feeling, before I could take in that I’d just been promised sex tonight, that I’d been promised a tomorrow, Raymond was shoving the door open with his foot and walking back into the house. He held a huge something in his arms, covered with a heavy blanket.
“Raymond, what are you—” The sounds reached me then. Easily my favorite sounds in the world. Small little chirps. “What did you do?”
He smiled at me. A huge happily nervous smile. He walked over to the table and placed the box on top and removed the blanket.
The chirping got louder. The top of the box was open and there was a small red bow, the kind with the sticky back, placed awkwardly on the side.
“Merry Christmas, Samuel. Even if it’s a bit early.”
I glanced at him in wonder, then walked over to the table, peering inside. There were a couple of dozen fluffy black chicks and six yellow ones. They were pecking around at some food scattered over the newspaper-covered floor of the box, some of them looking up at me. I just stared at them. In complete wonder. They couldn’t be. They just couldn’t.
Tearing my gaze away from the baby chicks, I looked over at Raymond, speechless.
He looked more nervous than before, and he shrugged. “The black ones are those Swedish Black Hens you wanted. They’re my way of saying Merry Christmas and that I’d like to explore how our weird lives might look together.” He laughed. “Though I didn’t quite realize just how weird we were talking until now.”
I looked back down. Swedish Black Hens. I couldn’t believe it. Then really looked. There were so many of them. “Raymond. These had to cost a fortune. You shouldn’t have done—”
He cut me off. “Money is to be spent, and I’ve got plenty of it. And, even if I didn’t, the look on your face right now is worth twice what I spent.” He pointed to the yellow ones that I’d just realized weren’t baby chickens at all. “Those little guys, the yella ones, are my way of saying I’m sorry about your turkey. I hate that I hurt you. When I ordered the chicks, I asked if they had any fancy turkeys. They suggested these. White something-or-others.”
I let out a breath of awe. “White Holland Turkeys. They’re all white when they grow up. They’re gorgeous.”
“Yeah. They said if you liked show birds, you’d like these. I don’t know if you really wanted another breed of turkeys, but I thought—”
“I can’t believe you did this.”
I searched his gaze, blown away by this strange, infuriating man. Strange, infuriating, wonderful man.
“I’m not playing games, Samuel. I’m sorry if I caused you stress the past few weeks. I thought I was giving you time.”
I waved it away, forgetting the chicks for a moment, and for the first time, I kissed him first. A kiss full of thanks, and care, and hope. As full as I could make it.
After several minutes, we pulled apart. Raymond’s voice was raspy with lust. “So, those little guys are the reason I’m not taking you to bed until later. I didn’t want them to stay in the Winnebago. And I figured you’d want to take them out to the coop before it got too dark.” He glanced out the window. “Which it looks like I’m already a little late for.”
I reared back. “The coop? Are you kidding? We can’t put the babies with all others. Especially in this weather. They’d die in minutes.” I rushed to the closet and began pulling out jackets and scarves. “Here, layer up over yours, this is gonna take a bit. I’ve got to get all the other birds fed and put away, and then we’ll go to the shed. I’ve got some heating lamps out there and baby chick feeders. I can set up a place for them in the laundry room until they’re big enough to