Page 1 of Yuletide Acres

Prologue

Poppy

California

“It’s ten o’clock, and you know what that means. Time for skinny-dipping!” A voice carries over the din as an array of squeals rise up from the festival campground. Within seconds, a band of people head toward the lake for some late-night cavorting.

I glance at D, holding out my hand to help him from his spot on the hemp blanket. “Come on, let’s go.”

He shakes his head, his dark brown hair tumbling around his shoulders. “I’ve got a better idea.” Hopping to his feet, he clasps my hand, leading me to the abandoned lounge area.

We found it on the first night of the festival, and it’s become our secret hideaway from all the hustle and bustle of the circuit. Don’t get me wrong, we adore our fellow festival goers, but sometimes, you need peace and privacy. D and I have been on this tour for the last year, traveling all around the western half of the United States. We didn’t start the journey together, but ever since we found each other at the first festival, we’ve been inseparable.

We follow the music, picking up odd jobs in every city to help afford our travels. This time, it’s working on a blueberry farm, and our fingers are stained purple from the hours of labor. But there is camaraderie amongst the workers, along with the added bonus of stealing a few of the sweet berries when the boss isn’t looking.

I doubt they’ve ever sent someone to jail for stealing a pocketful of blueberries.

D backs me against the wall, his hands cupping my head as his mouth finds mine. Our tongues tangle, his piercing adding an extra layer of sensation. Every kiss is as exciting as our first one, all those months earlier. I was in my vibe, swaying to the music, when this man grasped me around the waist, and insisted that he was laying his claim. When I asked what he was claiming, he kissed me, and I had my answer.

Talk about a bold move. But from the moment our bodies connected, D owned me—body, mind, and soul.

“What can I do for you, D?” I inquire, my fingers stroking along his erection.

“It’s my turn, Poppy,” D replies, sinking to his knees and shoving his head under my skirt.

I lean against the wall, my hands twisting in his long locks, holding him in place as he drives me out of my mind. This man’s tongue. Hell, this man’s hands. This man’s everything.

His talented mouth sends me over the edge, my hips bucking against him, my hands refusing to give him even an inch of space.

Before D, I never cared much for foreplay. Now, I can’t go more than a day without it.

Without him.

I give D’s hair a sharp yank, forcing him back to a standing position. “Wasn’t that a pleasant surprise. It’s not even my birthday.”

“I wouldn’t know, since you never told me your birthday,” D mutters, the corners of his mouth turning downward. “I don’t even know your last name, Poppy.”

“That’s the arrangement, remember?” It’s not unusual, living this nomadic lifestyle. People come and go, and you learn not to get too attached.

But D is a different story. He’s been my constant for almost a year. The memories we’ve created in the space of twelve months would fill several scrapbooks.

“The arrangement has to change. I need to leave.” He gazes out over the distant fields, not meeting my gaze.

His words pierce my heart like an arrow. “Why?”

“I checked my emails yesterday. My father is sick. I need to go home.”

I trace my fingers along the planes of his face, pressing my lips to his. “I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

“You can come with me,” D replies, leaning against the wall. “But I know you won’t. That’s far too domestic for you.”

I run my hands through my blue hair, clipped into a short pixie. “I was really looking forward to New Mexico, but if you need me, I’ll come with you. No questions asked.”

His hand cups my nape, pulling me into a kiss. “It’s okay. But, I will insist that you give me your email address, so I can reach you. Let you know what’s going on.”

“I rarely check my email, but for you, I’ll make an exception.” I smile, leaning my head against his chest. The glitter of the circuit fades, knowing that D won’t be there to experience it with me. “You will come back, won’t you?”

“Do you want me to come back?”

---