Page 15 of Deck the Halls with Cowboys
It sounded like a special kind of torture.
Diana’s laughter filled the air then. “Everyone is going to the main house for games and to prep for all the cooking tomorrow. Valerie is decorating the dining room, Harmony and Abbie are prepping the sides, Mason is going to prep the ham—”
“Cannot believe you all assigned him the ham,” I muttered, resting my hands on her bare hips now as I leaned back.
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Mason is a shit cook.”
“He is not.”
I leveled her with a look. “Firefly, he spent the majority of his adult life on the road and riding bulls. When did he have the fuckin’ time to teach himself how to cook—and cook well?”
She blinked. “He said he could do it.”
I sighed through my nose. “And all the women just believed him, huh?”
“Harmony vouched for him,” she countered.
My brow lifted. “Harmony is married to him and takes his cock faithfully, Diana. Of course, she did.”
Gaping at me, she shook her head. “Mags!”
I lifted her hips and let her fall down, filling her. She whimpered. “I’m done talking. You made an apple crisp that I have to share, and you’re dragging me to a damn prep party,” I declared, my fingers pressing into the soft, plump flesh of her hips. We could worry about the Christmas shit later. “Spread some holiday cheer for me and bounce on my cock.”
Chapter Five
Valerie
“Hey, Val?”
I looked up from the mess of ribbons NJ was creating on the living room floor, finding Caleb standing at the foot of the stairs in the foyer. For the last thirty minutes, I’d been trying—failing—to add the finishing touches to the final gifts to put under the tree, but my sweet girl had other plans.
Like pulling out every roll of ribbon from my assigned ribbon box and unraveling it.
Every.
Single.
One.
“Momma! Momma!” NJ squealed as she threw the ribbon all around her.
“Nice to see you,” I teased my stepson. “Finally.”
Caleb rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish grin on his lips. He’d been asleep for the last sixteen hours. “Yeah, sorry,” he muttered, his voice deeper than I expected it to be, and my eyes nearly popped out of my head.
“Whoa, did your voice drop?” I asked, taking in his dark messy hair and his long, lanky body. He still looked like a boy but sounded like a man—like his father.
“Uh? Maybe? I don’t know.” He shrugged. “The twins said it could just happen.”
The—the twins?
Oh, let the ghosts of Christmases past, present, and future take me now.
“Please don’t tell me you’ve been talking about puberty with Lance and Lawson,” I practically groaned, running a hand through my hair as NJ threw more ribbons into the air.
Now he looked like he had actually seen one of the Christmas ghosts. “Yeah, um Val, I’m not telling you what me and the cowboys talk about. What happens in the bunkhouse stays in the bunkhouse. That’s what Lawson always says.”
