Page 153 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

When I’m finished, the tiny cardboard pieces dumped into the trash, I get out the fixings for the cocoa, feeling slightly better. Maybe this isn’t the end of the world. Maybe Jace actually believed my weak explanation for why it was delivered to me.

You should keep it,I hear him say, the words sending more molten heat to my core.

No, he’s not the kind of man who misses the obvious. He knew exactly what was happening.

I start the hot chocolate, my hands shaking a little, and when it’s on the stove, I text Nicole:I hate you. Aidan’s buddy saw the freaking vibrator.

She instantly texts back:Oh, this is fantastic! Better than I could have planned it myself. Next challenge: You speak like a nineteenth-century schoolmarm. Time to stop.

I’m pretty sure nineteenth-century schoolmarms didn’t say things like freaking, but I suppose that isn’t her point. Besides, she’s not done. Of course she’s not.

Nicole:If you can’t say fucking, how are you going to fuck your buddy?

Actually, scratch that. I’ve given myself a brilliant idea. You need a fuck buddy, and he knows you’re horny. Get on that!

I feel a wave of something I don’t recognize, except that it feels a bit like backbone, and I find myself typing:Fuck you, how’s that for starters?

Excellent!she answers.A+ student!

CHAPTER TEN

JACE

Aidan is explaining the rules to Race to the Treasure, but I’m only half listening. It’s not that I’m disinterested. I just can’t stop thinking about Mary holding that vibrator. Or imagining her using it.

I squirm in my seat on the sofa as I tug at the front waistband of my jeans, trying to relieve some of the pressure against my dick. To cover my hard-on, I grab a throw pillow. The last thing I need is Aidan asking me about the long lump in my jeans.

Still, I mustn’t be doing a good job of hiding my discomfort, because he narrows his eyes at me from his spot on the floor next to the coffee table. “Do you have to go to the bathroom?”

My brow shoots up. “What? No.”

“I move around like that when I have to pee.”

“I don’t have to pee.”

“Then why are you moving around like that?”

Because thinking about the things your mother could do with her adult toy is making me rock harddoesn’t seem like an appropriate response, and it’s sure to get me tossed back out of Mary’s good graces. For good. Not that I’d tell him that anyway. I’m not a pervert, contrary to what Mary thought of me yesterday. So what can I tell him? Because I can tell he’snot going to let this go until I give him an acceptable answer. I almost say Idohave to go to the bathroom, but then he might accuse me of lying, and the truth is very important to Aidan.

“I got new underwear, and they’re a size too small,” I say. “They’re making me uncomfortable.”

His face scrunches as he evaluates my answer. “I have dinosaur underwear,” he says as he places some cardboard tiles face down on the board. “Only they don’t have ankylosauruses on them. Mom says they don’t make underwear with them on it. She’s looked. She says you can find anything on Amazon, and if they don’t have it, it probably doesn’t exist.”

“Your mom is a very wise woman,” I say as he picks up the two wooden dice, one with letters and the other with numbers, and rolls them onto the board. Based on what little I picked up from his explanation, we’re still in the setting-up phase of the game. This part is cooperative, apparently, but it’s clearly his turn. Which means I can let my mind wander.

Mary ordered a vibrator right around the time she met me. Coincidence? My ego would like to think not. Part of me wants to go into the kitchen, take Mary into my arms, and tell her she doesn’t need a vibrator. That I’d be happy to take care of her needs. There’s no way I can do that, of course, but the idea won’t leave me, and it’s only making me harder. I readjust the pillow, trying hard not to look like I’m squirming.

“But she’s a liar,” he says matter-of-factly as he picks up a card with a skeleton key picture and places it atop a square on the board. “Your turn.” He pushes the dice toward me.

My chest tightens at his casual indictment of his mom. I’m not sure I have any words of wisdom to help him get over the Santa betrayal, but I hate that he keeps calling Mary a liar. It has to hurt her.

I roll the dice and get a letter and a number. I set a skeleton key card in the corresponding square. “Your mom loves you very much.”

“She’s still a liar.” He scoops up the dice and rolls them in his hands carefully, like he has to get it just right or he’ll mess up the game.

I want to help him understand that some lies aren’t meant to hurt people, but I’m not sure it’s my place.

We continue with the setup until we’ve set out four keys and a tile for something called an ogre snack, all in spaces determined by the dice.

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