Page 20 of A Merry Christmas for Art… and His Tentacles

I open the door wider and step back so he can enter. Lisa doesn’t move, and Dean Miller has to slide by, narrowly avoiding brushing against her.

“Your bag smells delicious,” Lisa says.

Dean Miller carries it to the counter and sets it on the edge. “I brought Chinese food from my favorite place. They have great seafood. You’re welcome to have some.”

Lisa shakes her head. “I’m only allowed to stay for five minutes so I don’t interfere with your mating ritual.”

Dean Miller lets out a cough that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. “Oh. Um, thank you. That’s very considerate of you.”

“No, it’s not. Art insisted.”

Dean Miller doesn’t answer her. He’s staring at my bookshelves. “Sorry. This is your apartment, Art?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t invite you to someone else’s apartment.”

He laughs. “Right. Could I…” He gestures to the walkway between my bookcases.

I nod. The idea of Dean walking through my favorite space in the world feels similar to the way my heart races when he touches me. He reaches out his hand as he walks between the bookcases, running his fingers along the spines of the books. His eyes widen in wonder when he gets to the windows lined with plants.

“Wow. It’s like a forest in here. This is beautiful.” He turns to me as he says it, and for a moment, I forget whether he’s talking about me or my apartment.

Dean Miller is confusing sometimes. He makes every inch of my body come alive in ways I’ve never experienced before.

“Art decorated it himself,” Lisa says. She once again appears at my side. “He’s a special person. You should recognize his value and treat him accordingly.”

Dean Miller shoves his hands in his pockets. “You’re right.”

“You are being too aggressive,” I tell her. “Please stop antagonizing my temporary mate.”

She glances at her watch. “Fine. It’s been five minutes. I will leave the two of you to your mating ritual. But he should be warned that our family has extensive financial resources anda fondness for helping Karma along, should he choose to be unkind to you.” With that, she spins around, her black skirt swishing as she walks away.

“I’m sorry. The only time she interacts with people outside our family is when she’s destroying them in chess, so she can be intense,” I try to explain.

Dean Miller shrugs. “I like her. I’m also a little scared of her, but I get the impression that she wants me to be.”

“Yes. That’s accurate.”

Dean sits down on my favorite armchair. It’s the one facing the center window. He holds his arms out to me. I sit gingerly on his lap, worried that my weight will cut off the circulation in his legs. He wraps his arms around me and holds me close to his warm body. My tentacles go rogue in the most embarrassing way possible. One of them wraps around the back of his head, and two others slide under the hem of his shirt and splay against the softness of his abdomen. I open my mouth to apologize, but Dean Miller’s eyes close and he lets out a contented sigh. “God, that feels good.”

So I allow myself to enjoy the salty flavor of his skin and his musky scent. I feel so safe and cozy here in my favorite place with Dean. He belongs here as much as my favorite armchair.

“Could we eat dinner here?” he asks.

“Yes. But we’ll have to lay out a blanket on the floor so we don’t ruin the furniture.”

He opens his eyes. “Like an indoor picnic? That sounds perfect.”

The food is cooling on the counter. I should get up and get it for us. But I like sitting in Dean’s lap a little too much.

“Maybe in five minutes?” I suggest. “I’d like to taste you instead of food for right now.”

He holds me a little closer. “Deal.”

Art

Dean Miller asks about my different plants as we eat. We talk about my undergraduate degree in botany and also about his grandmother, who had a greenhouse in her backyard when he was a child. It’s easy to talk to him—so easy I decide that I don’t want to take him back to my bedroom.

I never sleep in there. It would feel strange to have sex with him on the mattress I’ve only used a handful of times.

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