The Slow Burn (Moonlight and Motor Oil #2) - Kristen Ashley Page 0,74
to verbally and publicly flay Jocelyn.
Instead feeling other things.
I decided to share some of those things with Toby.
“We need to go to Grayburg. I’m not thinking cavemen or cops and fugitives. I’m thinking armor and damsel in distress,” I declared.
He stared at me a second.
Then he burst out laughing.
I grinned up at him as he did it and put pressure on us to get us moving, saying, “According to Deanna, there’s a wreath that has my front door written all over it. Let’s fair this mother up.”
“Okay, baby,” he muttered, setting us on course back to my boy, Deanna and Charlie.
That drama done, in short order, I’d see the wreath was made of vintage glass baubles, some narrow tinsel trees sticking out around one, a discolored carousel ornament, some bells, a plastic snowman, a gold-faced skinny Santa, a glittery house, and the ugliest elf in history hugging his spindly, striped legs to his chest tacked on one side.
It was atrocious.
I loved it.
I bought it.
And after we meandered, consumed mince pies and popcorn balls . . .
And after we met up with Johnny and Izzy (who was totally aglow), purchased a mammoth box filled with summer sausages, a selection of cheeses, mustards and crackers, a huge bag of some Christmas-themed Chex mix that looked the bomb, and seven tacky ornaments that would totally destroy the theme of my tree . . .
And after we sat Brooks on Santa’s knee in the gazebo smack dab in the middle of the square, every one of us frantically taking pictures on our phones as Santa desperately tried to stop Brooklyn from yanking down his beard . . .
Toby, my son and I headed to his place to get the Xbox then home to put Brooks down for his nap in preparation for making cookies.
And that was when Toby put that wreath up on my door.
On that farmhouse door, as I suspected, the tacky took a hike and the wreath worked perfectly.
It fit.
And the way it did I vowed never to get rid of it.
But that wasn’t the only reason.
Mom would love it because it was all about recycling.
Still, there was another reason.
I had a feeling that wreath was going to be the foundation to every Christmas that was to come. It would be the first thing I’d get out and put up. It’d be the last thing I took down and put away.
It was Brooks. It was Toby. And it was me.
It was family.
A Match in Heaven
Toby
THERE WAS A half a plate of sugar cookies with red and green M&M’s in them, a half-full bowl of Chex mix, a mound of cashew caramel clusters and a greasy-sided bowl that had nothing but popcorn kernels at the bottom on Addie’s coffee table.
Dapper Dan was flat out on the floor by the couch, snoozing.
John McClane had saved the day.
And Toby was on his back, Addie stretched out on him, her cheek on his chest, his hand down her jeans at her ass, and since they were done with movies, he really wanted to fuck her, but his stomach was so full, and it felt so good lying on her couch with her, he didn’t want to move.
He’d have to get her in the mood to fuck him.
Which, of course, would get him in the place he’d fuck her.
She lifted her head, pushed up, and with her hair falling down on either side of them, she looked in his face.
“At this juncture, I regret to inform you I started my period during dinner,” she announced.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
“I’m afraid the bad news is gonna keep coming as I’m not a sex-during-that-time-of-the month girl.”
“Not a big fan of that either, honey,” he told her.
“The good news is, first, my mood will improve and second, you’ve been worried I’m losing weight and,” she flicked a hand to the coffee table, “I’m a consume-everything-in-my-path-during-my-monthly-visitor type of girl.”
He wrapped his free arm around her and squeezed the cheek of her ass he had in his other hand.
“Fatten you up for Christmas,” he murmured.
“Yeah,” she replied, lifting her hand to stroke his beard. “Though I would prefer it ended differently, you should know, this has been my best first date ever.”
First date?
“Say what?”
“The Fair. Caramel nut clusters. You vanquishing the Mean Girl for me. Finding a hideous wreath that’s totally dope. Cookies. Dinner. Watching TV for the first time in five months. Your hand down my jeans. Awesome.”
“Addie, our first date is gonna be at The Star on Thursday,” he reminded her.