Page 52 of Knot what I want for Christmas
Christmas Eve drinks!
You’ve got this, Hollie. It’ll be just fine. You can control yourself. You do not need to suck the face off those alphas or grind your pussy against their groins – You can behave like a civilized, grown-up human being.
We ride further out to the northernmost pastures and then we double back around. We’re almost back to the house when Annie looks up at the sky like she so often does and frowns.
“That doesn’t look so good,” she says, pointing out toward the east where a great big black storm cloud hunches on the horizon. “I wonder if that’s coming our way. I better go tell Mom and Dad.”
We pick up the pace, put the horses back in the stable, and then Annie’s running up the steps, Dolly clambering along behind her and barking as Annie calls her dad’s name.
“Have you seen that threatening-looking storm cloud in the distance?” she says to him, finding him in the kitchen.
He shakes his head.
“I’m thinking, if you want to go and get those last-minute groceries, we’d better go sooner rather than later.” He walks to the back door, opens it, and peers up at the sky. His expression is so like his daughter’s, it’s uncanny.
“Yep,” he says. “Better go now, before that storm sets in. Where’s your mom?”
He goes off to find her, and Annie turns to me, taking my hands in hers and lowering her voice.
“I would invite you on this grocery trip, Hollie,” she says, “but I wouldn’t want to expose you to the manic behavior that possesses my dad at this time of year.”
“What do you mean?” I say, giggling.
“He gets a bit frantic, a bit crazy, a bit worked up about Christmas dinner. We did the grocery shopping a week ago, but he’s made another long list of things he thinks we’ve forgotten, which is why we’ve got to go back today.” She rolls her eyes. “Come with us if you want, but seriously, if I were you, I’d stay at home, snuggle up with Dolly and Kenny, and drink eggnog. I think I’m going to need one or two by the time I get back.”
I don’t know if Annie’s being genuine, or whether she wants to spend some time with her mom and dad alone around Christmas, but either way I’m happy to hang out on my own in the house. Some time I can spend steadying my nerves and decoding all these feverish feelings.
“I think I might bake,” I say, not thinking about that apple pie I promised to make for Clay – the one he said he’d like to taste. “Your dad’s done so much of the cooking. I’d like to make him something.”
“Go ahead,” she says. “But… I really wouldn’t bother if I were you.” She grimaces. “He’s seriously possessive about his kitchen.One knife out of place, one smudge on the worktop, one splatter in the oven–” She drags her finger across her throat.
“Okay,” I say. “Maybe I’ll stick to the crocheting.”
I fail to admit that I haven’t yet started the crocheting project on account of, yeah, my horny brain.
It doesn’t take long for Mr. and Mrs. Jackson and Annie to load themselves up in the truck and hurtle away. I guess they really are concerned about that incoming storm. I go settle myself in front of the television, hoping for a source of distraction, Dolly and Kenny hopping up onto the couch with me.
I will not succumb to this horniness. I will not succumb to this horniness.
I flick on the TV just as the first flakes of snow fall from the now dark sky above the house. I sit and watch them fall, drifting, floating, mesmerizing. For a moment, I completely forget about the flickering television in front of me, or the dog nudging my hand and demanding attention. Then, eventually, I’m drawn back to the love story playing out on the screen and get back to stroking Dolly’s tummy.
When I glance back at the window almost an hour later, outside is thick with white, heavy snow. So much so I can’t even see the stables and there’s already a foot of snow piled outside the back window.
I wonder how far Annie and her parents got. I hope they make it to the shop.
I walk over to the window and gaze out, Dolly accompanying me and accessing the weather herself.
“It doesn’t look so great, does it?” I mumble to her.
It’s properly blizzarding now, a full-on snowstorm, and I can’t help worrying about the horses, about Annie, about the cattle, about the three alphas up there in their cabin. I nibble on my lip and remind myself they’re all experienced country folk.This probably isn’t the first snowstorm that they’ve encountered. They’re likely not freaking out at all. They’ll probably be back in 45 minutes, laughing at me for panicking so much.
I go make myself a cup of hot chocolate and locate snacks for Dolly and Kenny and bring them back to the television. I find another Christmas movie to watch – this one involving some city girl who falls in love with a country man – but I’m only half watching. My eyes keep drifting to the scene outside the window. The storm doesn’t seem to be weakening or clearing. If anything, the snow seems to be becoming impossibly heavier. And now I think if I stepped outside it would reach well over my knees.
I’m contemplating calling Annie and checking she’s okay when my cell buzzes on the cushion beside me. I pick it up. It’s Annie. The line is crackly.
“Annie,” I say, “Annie, are you okay?”
“Hollie, just fine. We’re just fine. But this storm’s set in. It looks like it’s not moving anywhere for the rest of the day.”
