Page 57 of Due South

“Yeah, definitely. What was the other thing?”

I let the corner of my mouth curl up and hopefully look a little devious.

“That it’ll still count as a real date if we have sex?”

He frowns briefly, as if he actually has to think about it.

“Evans. You know sex and dating aren’t mutually exclusive, right?”

He shakes his head, adorable embarrassment coloring his cheeks. “Yeah, of course I do. I just didn’t want you to think I only want to spend time with you if there’s sex involved.”

“You’re spending time with me now.”

His cheeks turn as red as Rudolph’s blinking nose. “Yeah. About that. I had some kind of filthy ideas that involve getting you naked and then dressing you back up with Christmas lights.”

“By dressing me up, do you mean tying me up?”

“Maybe. That depends on how you feel about being tied up.”

I purse my lips. How do I feel about being tied up? That voice in the back of my head whispers good girls don’t like being tied up, I shouldn’t be defiling this almost-holy day with this pagan sex-crazed madness, but I pick up my mental stiletto and squash it. Because it’s about joy and it’s about love and there can’t be anything wrong with that. “I’m not sure. But I’m willing to find out.”

Geeky enthusiasm blazes bright over Evans’s face. He said he doesn’t know anything about Christmas, but he’s got the gist. “Awesome. That’s awesome.”

“But could you do something first for me?”

“Anything, Lucy. Anything at all.”

“I love that you’re wearing that sweater, but could you take it off and possibly burn it in your trash bin? Because it’s really offensive to the eye.”

He doesn’t even wait for me to finish my sentence before he’s tugging the godawful thing over his head. “I thought you’d never ask. It’s itchy too.”

Now that the demon reindeer is gone, I feel as if I can touch him. So I do. His eyes close as my hands land on his chest, and I wrap my fingers around the holly-printed tie. He went all out, and the pleasure I feel about the effort he went to, all for me, is at once thrilling and mortifying.Hold on to the thrill, Lucy, let the rest go.

And the best way to do that is to kiss him, so I do. Again and again until we’re breathless and clawing at each other. There are far, far too many clothes in between us.

Epilogue

‡

One Year Later

Evans

Never have Ibeen so nervous to get on a plane. I can almost understand why India hid in the bathroom. It’s because when you’re on your way to somewhere that could end your life as you know it, a tin can flying through the sky is the last place you want to be.

Luckily, Lucy’s a good enticement. She spent more time than usual on her hair this morning, and it’s falling in soft curls around her shoulders. She’s wearing this fitted top with a riot of greens on it, and though the cut is conservative, it doesn’t leave all that much to the imagination, mostly because Lucy’s body is—fist-biting gorgeous. Out-of-this-world awesome. Breath-stealing sexy.

If she heard me saying these things, she’d roll her eyes, but I’d see the secret smile afterward. She doesn’t always like compliments about her appearance, but she trusts them from me because that’s only one on the long list of things I love about her. And I do. Love her. Have told her so. And she said it back, because I’m the luckiest guy on the planet.

I can’t find my words at the moment, though, because the idea of getting on a plane to fly to Iowa to meet Lucy’s family… Well, that knots up my stomach, even though she says they’ll love me. I’m not so sure. Her brothers could probably crush me with a single fist and I bet they’d get along better with Darren than with me, but maybe not. Lucy says they’re hard workers and don’t stand for slackers. I do work hard, even if I do it in a suit and tie instead of Carhartts and boots. And to be fair, Darren’s gotten better. Moved into his own place and finally got into some programs that might actually help him stay there and build a life. We get along better now, have started meeting up a couple of times a month. And yeah, sometimes it’s at the Hen House. But sometimes not. For the first time since we were kids, we actually celebrated the first night of Hanukkah last week and that was nice. It might not sound like much except that it’s a vast improvement where my relationship with Darren is concerned. We taught Lucy how to play dreidel, and she looked up how to make latkes. They were delicious.

Now that I’m on better terms with my brother, I’ve got to start winning Lucy’s over. She’s promised—threatened?—that her brothers are going to take me out to see the cows, so we’ll see how that goes. Hopefully I won’t make too huge a fool out of myself. Or if I do, that Lucy finds it endearing. Especially now.

I’ve got a certain something burning a hole in my pocket. Okay, it’s a ring. Kind of a big one. I hadn’t meant to spend quite so much, but it’s so perfect for her, and now that I’ve got more cash coming in, it’s not so much of a stretch. It’s a vintage ring from the sixties that would probably seem too heavy, too full of detail for a lot of women, but for Lucy… I think she’ll love it, and if she’s going to be wearing it forever, it should be something she’ll adore.

My hand slips automatically to my pocket to check that the box is still there, and it is. The velvet is soft under my fingertips and it eases the knot in my stomach some. I’d been planning to ask her on Christmas Day, but all of a sudden, that seems like too much pressure. What if she doesn’t say yes? What if she doesn’t want it to be a big production? What if her brothers strangle me with Christmas lights? I know Lucy pretty well, but this has got me stumped.

There’s a tug on my hand that yanks me out of my “thinky-ness” as Lucy calls it. And there she is, with her bouncy red hair and a big, sweet smile on her face. “Come on, Evans, they’re calling our group.”

---