Page 3 of Dealing With Christmas

CHAPTER TWO

CHRISTMAS EVE

RAINEY

“Damn it, Brody, quit! We’re forty-five minutes late because you couldn’t keep your wandering hands to yourself.”

I’m meeting his parents for the first time today and I wanted to make a good impression. Showing up almost an hour late isn’t the best start.

He smacks me on the ass, making me yelp. “You didn’t seem to mind when I was balls deep inside of you.”

I give him the side-eye. “Yeah...well, it’s not my fault your dick is so magical. It turns me into some brainless sex-starved demon, just like that.” I snap my fingers to emphasize my point.

Brody grins. “Aw, baby, Thor loves it when you get all mindless and horny.”

My lips twitch. Yes, my boyfriend named his dick Thor. You know...because he’s known for having a big hammer? I’ll never tell Brody this because his ego is big enough, but let’s just say the reference suits him quite well.

“Regardless, I’m trying to make a good impression here. I want them to like me.”

Brody pulls me into a side hug. “Honey, they’re going to love you just as much as I do. You have nothing to worry about. If anything, I should be worried you might leave me after meeting my crazy ass family.”

I grab his chin and pull him into a kiss. “They can’t be any worse than putting up with you.”

He laughs as he opens the front door. “Be prepared to eat some crow, honey.” He pulls me into a small foyer with a staircase to the right and a hallway on the left. “Hello? Where’s everyone at?”

“B.J.!” shouts a woman with an Italian accent.

I bite my lip to hide my smirk, knowing how much Brody hates the nickname his mom has given him. Do I really have to explain why? He takes my coat and hangs it in the side closet as she comes into view. Damn, she’s shorter than me, probably no more than five feet. I don’t know how the hell someone that small gave birth to the big guy by my side.

She smiles widely as we make eye contact. “Oh, my! You are even more beautiful that I imagined!”

“Thank you,” I say as she greets me with a kiss on each cheek.

Mrs. Harris has been in this country for almost forty years but according to Brody, she refuses to give up her Old World ways. Her accent is just as strong as it was the first day she arrived in the U.S.

“Hey, Mom,” Brody says while pulling her into a hug.

Mrs. Harris smacks him on the chest with the back of her hand then turns to me. “My dear, you make sure you don’t put up with any bull from this one. He can be quite stupid when it comes to the ladies.”

“Thanks, Ma,” Brody mutters.

I laugh. “You don’t need to worry about that, Mrs. Harris.”

She flicks her wrist in an oh stop gesture. “Please, call me Sofia.”

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