Page 31 of A Tinsel Tale

Her eyes twinkle. “I almost believe you.”

“What time?” I ask.

“How about six?”

“Perfect. I’ll bring pizza. You still like pepperoni, extra mushroom and extra cheese?” I ask.

Her eyes widen in surprise and a smile blossoms. “Good memory.”

“I remember everything,” I say tapping my forehead.

She laughs. “Now that’s a scary thought.” She squints at me. “But are you sure about Friday? I feel like the Parkers are taking over your life.”

I itch to run my thumb across her forehead, smoothing out the worry lines. My eyes dip lower to her tempting lips. She tucks her hair behind her ears and stares back her expression unreadable. “Evie, I want to spend time with you. That may be inconvenient but it’s the truth.”

“Jamie, I’m not sure it’s a good idea. It’s so confusing. The past is fusing with the present in a weird way. I’m not sure what’s even real.”

Expelling a long breath, I put my hands on her shoulders and step close. Leaning my forehead against hers, I say, “Evie, I’ve missed you. I’m so sorry I fucked up back then. I was a stupid kid and I handled things so badly.” She shudders and I hear her sigh. Then my fingers are tangling in her hair. I cup her head then dip down softly, kissing her lips, and it feels like home. There is no awkwardness as she parts her lips, inviting me in. My body remembers everything about Evie... her taste, her smell, it all feels familiar and right.

I slide one hand down and press into the curve of her back pulling her against my hardness. I hear her breath hiss, but she doesn’t pull away. Her fingers grip my biceps, biting in. I cover her mouth and rediscover what used to be mine. Her hands circle my waist, and she moans into my mouth. I want her. I need her.

The barking dogs and a car door slamming breaks the spell. I lift my head. Her eyes are glazed over with lust. I’m sure mine look the same. I hug her to me, resting my chin on top of her head and sigh. “Evie, how is it that you feel so right in my arms?”

There’s a knock at the door and she pulls away, running her fingers through her mussed hair. “I’d better answer that.” She walks to the door and opens it.

“Gwen! Come in.”

“I won’t stay. I just wanted to drop off some cookies I baked. Chocolate chip. The patient’s favorite.”

“Thank you. Do you want to say hello to Dad?”

She waves her hand. “Another time. He needs to rest. I’ll check in later this week.”

Taking a chance, I say, “Gwen? Would you like to help us decorate the tree Friday night? I’m bringing pizza.”

She beams. “I would love that! What time and what should I bring?”

“Six, and no need to bring anything. Anything you don’t like on your pizza?”

“No worries. I like everything,” she says. “Tell Bill I’ll see him soon. Bye now.” She leaves and we’re alone again.

Instinctively I reach to caress Evie’s cheek then stop mid-motion and drop my arm back down to my side. My lips are still tingling, and I have a semi in my pants. I need to put the brakes on. The last thing I want to do is spook her. “See you Friday, Evie.”

Her lips part like she’s about to say something then she nods.

I let the dogs out of the paddock, and they run straight for the porch. Evie lets them in and meets my gaze. She waves then shuts the door.

17

EVIE

“Alexa, play Christmas songs,” I say, as I grip the tree about mid-way up the trunk. The needles are uncomfortably scratchy against my skin. Jamie lies prone on the floor under the tree, tightening the screws on the stand. All that is sticking out is his fine backside and muscular legs, looking mighty tasty in his faded Levis. Alexa replies and holiday tunes begin streaming through my Bose speakers.

“Is that better?” he says, voice muffled.

“Almost. It’s still leaning slightly to the right.” We placed the tree to the right of the fireplace, which is burning brightly, casting a warm glow over the room. Mags and Bruiser are settled on their beds while Huxley hyper-vigilantly watches every move Jamie makes. “What do you think, Hux?” Huxley’s eyes dart to me for a millisecond then back to his person. The herding instinct is real, folks. I chuckle at his focus. “He’s locked in,” I explain to Jamie.

Puss is lounging on the back of the couch paying rapt attention and making mental playdates with the tree.

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