Holly Lane (Destiny, Ohio) Page 22

Sixteen

  . . . a ripe little mouth that seemed made to be kissed—and no doubt it was . . .

  Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

  “Is that . . . Grampy Hoskins’ sled?” she asked, wide-eyed at the sight.

  “Yep,” Adam said. She recognized it because the old man pulled the antique sleigh into his front yard as a decoration every December. “It’s mine for the night, though, complete with the horse.”

  Sue Ann couldn’t hold back her smile, her pulse kicking up a little. “You did this for me?”

  He simply gave a short nod, like it was nothing. “I just remembered you saying once or twice over the years that you thought it sounded romantic to take a sleigh ride. And . . . as far as I know, you never got to take one, right?”

  Her heart warmed all the more—what a sweet, thoughtful gesture. “Right—never did.”

  “Well,” he said, motioning to the big red sled, “your chariot awaits, milady.” Then he took her hand and helped her climb up onto the black leather seat.

  Once he was sitting beside her, he draped a fleece blanket over their legs, then scooped up the reins. And now Sue Ann felt a little like she’d stepped beyond the Currier and Ives print—right into a fairy tale fantasy. And sure, it was only little old Destiny, all the same buildings and streets she’d seen her whole life—but maybe it felt different from inside the sleigh, nestled up against a handsome man. The town square lay silent and still, today’s snowfall heavy enough to send most people home already, and as the sled proceeded up the street past the fire and police stations, then town hall, the buildings and storefronts all adorned in a glistening mantle of white, Destiny felt . . . enchanting. And like it was theirs alone, their private little winter hamlet. Grampy’s horse, a dark brown mare named Clara, even wore bells on her harness, which jingled with every trotting step she took through the fresh snow.

  Soon the snowfall lightened until the fat, fluffy flakes only sprinkled down softly upon them, and Adam drove the sleigh out of town toward Blue Valley Road. “I’ve always thought this route was pretty in the snow,” he told her, and he couldn’t have been more accurate. Snow clung like lace to the boughs of tall pine trees along the roadside, and when they rounded a bend, bringing Blue Valley Lake into sight, the cottages along the shore looked like tiny gingerbread houses dripping with white, velvety frosting. Ice rimmed the lake’s edges in curving scallops, and the water’s surface shone a glassy midnight blue even in the flat light of a cold, snowy day.

  Adam steered the big sleigh off the road at a quiet spot next to the lake, then pulled up on the reins with a deep “Whoa” that brought Clara to a halt.

  And though it was a lovely view, Sue Ann asked, “Why are we stopping?”

  “I brought a light dinner—thought we’d have a little in-sleigh picnic,” he told her with his usual sexy grin.

  She couldn’t get over it—Adam had done all this just to give her a special afternoon. And it was special. And if any doubts about putting her faith in him still existed on the periphery of her mind . . . well, this all but swept them away. Yes, trust was hard for her right now. But as Adam hoisted a picnic basket from a small chest on the back of the sleigh, she could no longer find any good reasons not to trust him.

  Of course, maybe doing something sweet didn’t have much to do with being trustworthy—but how could a guy prove something like that? And in that moment, she realized that maybe it was about believing, the same way Sophie believed in Santa Claus to bring her a reindeer. Only, while she knew Sophie would be disappointed in the end, she trusted Adam not to let her down. Yes, all this was happening fast—but she was caught up in it now, and finally embracing it, giving herself over to it completely.

  Spreading a red and white picnic cloth over the blanket on their laps, Adam served up turkey sandwiches on paper plates. “Like the ones you made us that night at the cabin,” he reminded her. With them came pretzels and some potato salad, then slices of pumpkin pie and pumpkin bread, and as she began to eat, it really did remind her of the mishmash of a post-Thanksgiving meal they’d shared.

  After doling out all the food, he poured hot chocolate from a thermos into two mugs—and then even produced a plastic container of marshmallows. “The tiny ones you like,” he told her.

  And that’s when her jaw dropped. Because . . . “How do you know that?” She never served marshmallows with hot chocolate at her house—never had. Jeff and Sophie had both always preferred whipped cream, so she just didn’t bother with the marshmallows.

  “You told me once,” Adam said. Grabbing a small handful of marshmallows, he plopped them gently in both cups, which she held. “When we went ice skating on New Year’s Eve. Remember?”

  Ice skating? Wow. That had been . . . years ago. Before either of them had had kids. The two couples had driven to Cincinnati and gone skating downtown on Fountain Square before ringing in the new year. She recalled now a moment when she and Adam had left the ice to get hot chocolate from a concession booth, and that she’d been so very pleased when it came with little marshmallows.

  “You told me how the tiny ones were the best,” he went on.

  She smiled and sipped from her mug. “They are.”

  “And I remember how happy they made you.”

  She bit her lip, a smidge embarrassed, recalling it. “I think I’d had a couple of beers with dinner,” she felt the need to say on a laugh. “Marshmallows don’t always excite me that much.”

  “Well, if they excite you at all, that’s good enough for me.” He raised his eyebrows teasingly, then licked some hot chocolate off his upper lip in a way she felt between her thighs.

  And as she took another drink, the little marshmallows melting to create a creamy foam on top, she peeked at him from beneath lowered eyelids. “ ‘Excite’ might be a strong word. When it comes to marshmallows, I mean. It takes more to really, you know, excite me.” Then she bit her lip, and her next words came out huskier, unplanned. “You excite me.”

  “Okay, you know I have to kiss you now, don’t you?” he said before taking her cup and setting both of them on the floor of the sled.

  And she didn’t answer, but there was nothing in the world she wanted more in that moment than to be kissed by Adam Becker.

  He gazed deeply into her eyes in the still gently falling snow, then took her face in both his hands, tilted it slightly upward, and lowered a slow, smooth kiss to her lips. Oh God, it was just like in the cabin, in the snowstorm—kisses so thoughtful and sure that nothing else mattered. It wasn’t about rushing toward sex—the kisses were intoxicating enough on their own and something in them made her feel . . . treasured. Or maybe it was all of this making her feel that way.

  When his tongue eased into her mouth, a small moan echoed from her throat up into the cold, early evening air. And when finally the kissing ended, he leaned over, pressing his forehead against hers, their chilled noses touching, and said, “That was better than hot chocolate.”

  “Even better than tiny marshmallows,” she agreed.

  “Thank you,” he told her then.

  “For?”

  “Giving me a chance. We’ve come a long way in a short time, Little Miss Sugar Plum.”

  “Well, you’re very . . . persuasive,” she said breathily.

  From there, they resumed their picnic, the hot chocolate warming them, and they talked. Adam told her about his phone call with the twins earlier in the day, and how it had inspired him to finally put up a Christmas tree.

  “If you’d waited ’til tonight,” she pointed out, “I could have helped you.”

  He gave his head a sexy—even if regretful—tilt in response. “Damn, that would have been nice.” Though after that he narrowed his gaze on her, a slight grin sneaking out. “But then again, I might have better plans for you tonight.”

  A few minutes later, she found herself sharing with him some of the ideas that had hit her throughout the day. About wanting to get a new little house she could revitalize. “And then I was thin
king—maybe I could eventually do that as a sideline to the whole real estate thing. Fix up and remodel old houses. And maybe, if I had enough money, I could flip them—you know, actually buy them, then refurbish and resell them. I think I’d find that really satisfying, you know? Besides liking the work, it would be nice knowing someone else would enjoy the homes for years to come.”

  “You’d be great at that,” he told her without hesitation, and she could tell he meant it. “You did a damn good job on the house you live in now—and, well, I think it’s important to do something you love if you can.”

  The thought made her smile. “You know, two weeks ago, my future didn’t feel very . . . inspiring. But now it’s hit me how much I really love dealing with homes and home-buying. And I suddenly have more ideas, more opportunities, than I even have time to explore—I have too many exciting things to do with my life!”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Excited again, huh?” he teased.

  “Down, boy,” she scolded, laughing. Then said, “Do you love landscaping?”

  He nodded. “Yep. Love working outdoors, love working with plants and trees and earth. I even still love the smell of fresh mown grass, despite how much of it I’ve mowed over the years,” he added with a grin.

  “You never talk about your work much,” she observed.

  But he only shrugged. “Guess it’s always been such a big part of me that I don’t even think about it. I knew I’d do something like that, here in Destiny, from the time I was young.”

  As a few snowflakes continued gently wafting around them, she gave him a long, hard look as something new struck her. “You and I . . . we’re really a lot alike in ways. I mean, we’ve both always valued simple things, appreciated a simple life. I never wanted to leave Destiny, and even when you went off to college, you knew you’d come back. Whereas Sheila wanted something different, and deep down, I’m pretty sure Jeff did, too.”

  He gave his head a thoughtful tilt. “Guess I’ve always known that, about us being alike. That’s probably why I’ve always been so comfortable with you.”

  When she gave a little shiver, he said, “Cold?”

  And she nodded.

  “Drink up,” he said, motioning to the warm mug she still held, “and I’ll get us on the road home.”

  The shortest days of the year were upon them, so it was dark by then, but a bright moon was beginning to shine down now that the snow was finally tapering off, and reflecting off the snow, it lit up Blue Valley Road for the romantic ride back to town. Sue Ann didn’t hesitate to snuggle against Adam as he guided the horse, Clara’s bells jingling the entire way.

  And when finally the red sled came to a stop on Holly Lane, she looked into his eyes, close to hers now, and said, “You’ve got this thing for the rest of the evening, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Then that means you don’t have to leave right away. It means you can . . . come in and warm me up.”

  And warm her up he did. In more ways than one.

  Once inside, Adam built a fire in the old brick hearth, and Sue Ann poured more of his hot chocolate into fresh mugs from her kitchen—adding the marshmallows, of course. They sat near the fire and talked more, about nothing in particular—the kids, Christmas, snow—being interrupted only briefly when Adam had to take a call on his cell phone and stepped away, into the kitchen.

  While he was gone, Sue Ann hugged a throw pillow to her chest and felt more caught up in romantic passion than since she’d been a teenager. As she’d acknowledged before, romance could be agonizing when it held problems or didn’t go the way you wanted—but she was now remembering how absolutely, soul-stirringly amazing it could be when it all fell into place. She bit her lip, her body aching for his return, and her heart was definitely getting into the act, too. She couldn’t have dreamed six months ago—or heck, even six weeks ago—that she could be so happy by Christmas.

  Though when Adam came back in the room, shoving his phone into his pocket, she thought he looked troubled. Rising to face him, hugging her mug in both hands, she said, “Problem?”

  He tilted his head, squinting lightly, as if weighing it, and said, “Uh . . . nothing I want to let dampen the evening.”

  She didn’t want anything to mess up the night, either, but felt compelled to ask, “Are you sure?”

  “Yep, completely.”

  “Nothing’s wrong with the boys?”

  And his expression lightened as he rushed to say, “Oh no, nothing like that. Everything’s fine.” Then he even smiled. “Stop worrying so much, sugar plum.”

  “All right,” she said, relieved and deciding it was probably some issue related to his business or something.

  Then a look she liked even better entered his gaze—the sexy expression he wore when he was feeling seductive. “But I think we’ve had enough hot chocolate,” he said deeply. “And I’m ready to move on to a new activity.” Standing next to the fireplace with her, Adam confidently took the cup from her hand, set it on the mantel, and began to kiss her again.

  But now, as smooth and perfect as his kisses were, kisses alone were no longer enough—for either of them. He wasted little time before sliding his hands beneath the hem of her sweater—at the precise moment she reached for the button on his blue jeans.

  As they made love by the fire on another braided rug, for Sue Ann it was as if everything that had happened since Thanksgiving was coming together, melding into one hot, wonderful moment that left no questions, no worries—only happiness. The setting took her back to that snowbound cabin, but the most wonderful part was—now it wasn’t just sex; it was so much more. And just like the other night in her bed, she didn’t hold back, she let herself and her inhibitions go completely in his arms.

  The pleasure was wild and intense, and as much as she adored her daughter, she was thankful they didn’t have to worry about being quiet this time. Being alone with Adam, feeling utterly free with him, filled her almost to overflowing. When he kissed and licked between her thighs, she could moan and purr. And when he turned her onto her hands and knees on the rug, plunging into her, hot and hard, she could cry out at will—no holding back.

  Before it was over, he’d given her another two ecstasy-filled orgasms, and when he came in her, knowing she’d taken him there left her feeling . . . whole. Complete. For maybe the first time in months.

  He collapsed gently atop her naked body and they lay quietly for a few moments, until she smiled into his eyes and said, “You give an entirely new meaning to the idea of Christmas joy.”

  A rich, hearty laugh echoed from his throat, and they kissed and cuddled together for a minute before he rolled onto his side next to her, caressing her stomach with warm fingertips and saying, “I like this new you.”

  “New me?”

  “This you who isn’t pushing me away and telling me it can’t happen and all that. This you is much more fun,” he teased with a wink.

  She bit her lip. This her was having much more fun, too. In fact, this her was just a plain happier person than she’d been a week or two ago. She was glad she’d stopped fighting her feelings for him. “I guess . . . you’re pretty hard to resist, Becker.”

  He cast a sexy grin down into her eyes, then leaned in to lower a soft kiss on the ridge of her breast. “Damn straight,” he rasped.

  She leaned her head back then, just basking in the moment. “And I guess I’ve . . . quit dwelling on my trust issues so much. I’m starting to look at those in a new way, too.”

  “What new way?” he asked absently, studying her breast now as if he were examining some amazing work of art, then lowering another tiny kiss, this one to the very tip of her nipple. It made her shiver.

  Still, even as good as that felt, she rolled onto her side to face him—she couldn’t concentrate on what she was saying otherwise—and peered into those gorgeous blue eyes that had held her so captivated in recent weeks. “Well, with a more . . . positive attitude, I guess. Because it seems the more I relax and let things ha
ppen, the better my life goes. And yeah, I was surprised when you told me what happened at that wedding, because I’m very sensitive about any sort of cheating right now, and I always thought of you as so . . . flawless before that. But like we discussed the other night, none of us are perfect. And I was worried, too, about the idea of you testifying for Jeff in the alimony hearing—afraid of things that could come out, about me—but that’s one more thing that turned out not to be a problem. I didn’t tell you this the other night because . . . well, I didn’t want to make a big deal of it at the time—but finding out you weren’t doing it lifted such a burden, Adam. It just changed . . . everything. So all that makes it a lot easier to just be brave, not back away from this anymore, and put my trust in you.”

  When he said nothing in reply to this, though—in fact, exhibited no reaction whatsoever—she found herself looking more deeply into his eyes, trying to read them.

  And she wasn’t sure how, but that quickly—almost in the blink of an eye—it had turned into . . . a strange moment. A sudden uneasiness filled the air around them.

  Maybe you’re only imagining that. But why would she imagine something so unpleasant when everything else was so wonderful? And had his body just stiffened slightly next to hers? Whether she was imagining things or not, she just wanted him to confirm what she was saying, to assure her that she wasn’t just being . . . naïve or something.

  Now his gaze had narrowed on her as well, and—damn—she still couldn’t quite interpret his expression. Though she began to fear that he appeared more . . . concerned than she liked. What was that about?

  Propped on her elbow, she tilted her head, their eyes still connected—and she knew he saw the growing question, the uneasiness, on her face.

  “What’s wrong?” she finally asked. “Why are you being so quiet?”

  His mouth flattened into a straight line—and her stomach churned lightly. “Thing is, honey . . .” He stopped, sighed. “That phone call I got before . . . ”

  “What?” she asked nervously. What was he holding back from her?