Page 14 of Joy Ride
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She isn’tyours. I try to convince myself one last time. When the power comes back on,you have to let her go.I clearly understand the math. I was twenty years old before she was even born, and I know she doesn’t want to be tied to anyone, but now that I’ve claimed her, sheismine. I knew it when I was pumping my seed into her like a caveman trying to impregnate her last night. Fuck. I lost all sense of control with her.
Jolene doesn’t know it yet, but if she wants, I’ll wait for her for however long she needs. After the way our bodies came together last night, the way she reads my mind and I read hers, I know in the depths of my soul that she’s the woman I’ve been waiting for my whole life.
I hold back a smile as she flits across the room back to the kitchen and peeks into the pan of eggs. As much as I want to rip that robe off her, spread her legs and have her cream for breakfast, she must be starving.
“Have a seat.” I point to the table off the kitchenette and grab a few plates and silverware.
It’s ridiculous, but I could be happy just watching her eat all day, but there’s a palpable cloud of secrecy and melancholy in the air.
We both know the train is coming soon. The storm will clear, and she’ll be on her way with a wave and a kiss goodbye, and it’s killing me.
Jolene keeps the conversation light. Thankfully, I hold myself together and try not to get too possessive over her. After all, as much as I mulled over my options this morning, I really can’t force her to stay. But fuck. What am I going to do without her?
After breakfast, I dig through the hall closet and finally find the old cardboard box of ornaments my grandmother passed on to me. Jolene’s waiting anxiously and almost jumps when I carry it into the room. I knew she’d love this, and I’d do anything to keep her smiling at me the way she is right now.
“Your wish is my command,” I say, setting the dinged-up box on the coffee table in front of the roaring fire, and it finally feels like Christmas. The tree might have something to do with the way the vibe in the room has changed, but Goldilocks is the one bringing the magic.
“You found them?” Her eyes sparkle when she hurries over to investigate.
“It’s been so long since I opened this,” I confess, fiddling with the frayed overlapped cardboard folds, “I don’t even remember what’s in here.”
She gently pulls out one of the crumpled newspaper clumps Gram used to wrap the ornaments in and digs out a little foil gold sleigh. She holds it up to the firelight and examines every side. “This is an antique.”
“I think they all are. This box is exactly Gram she left it.” I reach into a wad of paper and select the first ornament I feel. Christ. I hate to be so sentimental, but— “This little boot was my favorite.” The black has worn off the lower part of the shoe, but I can still see the red trim.
“How adorable.” Jolene carefully examines it, her eyes glistening, bluer than blue. “I’m trying to imagine you as a little boy.” She winks. “Trust me. It’s a stretch to think about anything being little when it comes to you.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should, cowboy.” She points to the tree’s bare branches. “Go ahead, put it on. That boot needs to be the first ornament we hang.”
I analyze the tree’s symmetry, searching for the perfect place to hang it. “You’re the decorator, but I think it should go here,” I say, slipping the fragile silver string over the third branch from the top.
“Perfect.” She giggles, hunting through the box. “This one is next.” She brings the foil sleigh to the tree and secures it on a branch right next to mine.
“I can’t believe they all still have their hangers on.”
I join her at the box, bending low enough to get a whiff of the soft, sweet smell of her hair. “This one reminds me of you,” I say, showing her an angel with a tangled mass of blonde yarn at the top of her head.
She laughs, patting down her hair. “Is it really that bad?”
“No.” I chuckle, pointing to the glitter on the angel’s dress. “See? She sparkles, just like you.”
She raises her brow. “Really? Let me find something.” I hear her digging through the box while I hang the angel on the branch below the boot.
“Found it!” she says brightly. “See? This one is you. Splitting image.”
I turn and wince at the white cotton puff snowman. “I don’t have that much grey, and I’m in much better shape.” I chuckle. “Seriously, how does that look like me?”
“Well,” she shrugs. “Snowmen are usually out in the middle of nowhere and seem pretty happy going it alone. But on second thought, maybe he isn’t exactly like you because he doesn’t have a smile.”
“Or a mouth, for that matter. I think there used to be black stitching where the mouth is supposed to be.” Speaking of mouths, I focus on her lips, the desire for her burning through me like a heatwave.
She finds my gaze and locks on. Getting to her feet, she approaches me as I do the same to her. She wraps her hands around my neck and gets up on tiptoes, pressing her curves against me. I cradle her flawless face and kiss her, slowly at first. “Oh, how I’ve missed these lips.” I groan, tipping her back as my heart throbs.
The fire crackles and pops behind us as the lights flicker and turn back on, flooding the room with light.
