Page 21 of Secret Santa

“Looks like you’re saved by the bell sweetheart.”

With two strokes she groaned my name so loud I thought for sure passersby would hear. In one more stroke her mouth gaped open, and her head lolled back against the wall and with the fourth, she let go for me in the most beautiful explosion. I desperately wanted to see it again. More than once, actually.

“Was that the oven dinging?” Her words were still a bit slurred, and she leaned against my chest for balance.

I made a show of licking my fingers. She gasped but watched me intently as I finished the motion, her already wide pupils expanding even more.

“I believe the second tastiest thing in this room is also finished.”

ChapterTwelve

Presley ruined my diner for me forever. Every moment I spent in my prep kitchen, I saw us. In the corner nearest the door to the pantries. Me pressed against those worn teal tiles, inches from the peeling doorframe, legs spread wide and begging Presley to provide my overheated body just a breath of relief. I could still feel his muscular body pressed against mine. Feel his hips holding me against the wall. The soft fabric of his sweatpants doing nothing to contain the stiff ridge hidden beneath.

“Sugar, that’s two customers you haven’t greeted.”

Fitzy sat in front of me at the counter in her usual spot. I honestly couldn’t remember how long she’d been there. That’s how much free rent Presley had in my thoughts.

Presley: Beckett and I are in the cafeteria line, and they are selling slices of pie.

Presley: I’m going to have to explain to Beckett why I’m rocking a semi on our way to a meeting with the provost.

Presley: I don’t think I’ll ever look at pie the same way ever again ?? ????

While his texts were few and far between, I lived for them, thrilled whenever one greeted me when I picked up my phone. I hadn’t seen Presley since Tuesday night.Thenight. Where he’d had me keening just to the left of where I stood talking to Fitzy. I imagined I could hear myself calling his name. I could hear his voice soft and assured telling me how badly he wanted to see me come.

Me: People do line up to get a taste of my pie ??

Presley: Only one thing I know that tastes better

Presley: And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.

“Maybe you should go home,” Fitzy said, coming around the back of the counter and getting the pot of coffee. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, and today isn’t the first day you’ve been like this. You look flushed with fever. Are yousureyou’re not sick?”

“I’ve just been real busy Fitz, that’s all.”

Real busy exhausting myself with the never-ending porno playing in my head. And maybe prepping for the holidays was kind of exhausting. But it was like a ninety-nine to one ratio of Presley’s porno and the stress of what was to come.

“Thanksgiving’s next week,” I explained. “I’ve got to bake this weekend, and just thinking about working all weekend short staffed is stressing me out.”

“I know of three strong, good-looking men who would be more than willing to take a shift or two in here.” She looked around the tiny diner a mischievous smile lifting her eyebrow and quirking her mouth as if she was picturing them in boxers and bow ties.

“They’re here to help their brother out of a crisis and you know it.” I shook my order pad in her direction.

“Never hurt no one to play damsel once in a while.” She winked at me over her cup of coffee.

Play damsel. That was rich. I could light myself on fire and no one would come running. Bourbon City might be a charming small town, but having a single woman, inching past thirty-five, born to a woman from the wrong side of the tracks with a bad country song life? People like me didn’t get the Hallmark fairy tale. We didn’t get theIt’s a Wonderful Lifetreatment. The whole town wouldn’t be coming to my aid. Never had, never would. I took care of me. That was the only person I could depend on.

“I’m the furthest thing from a damn damsel and you know it, Fitzy. I picked up the pieces of this diner all on my own. I asked for no one’s help, and ain’t no one breakin’ down doors to help a pudgy, middle aged, spinster. I clean up my own messes, and I handle my business. Period.”

Fitzy huffed at me. She was too proper to crawl down into the mud and have a spat like a regular person. Instead she threw down a ten dollar bill and collected her things.

“I hope one day, sugar, you see what the rest of this town sees.”

I figured after snapping at Fitzy she’d stay far away from the diner for a while. Apparently not. In that beautiful span of time between lunch and dinner when the whole diner emptied, that was when Fitzy returned. Though not alone. She came with Presley’s brother Harris in tow.

“I come bearing gifts!” she announced as Harris paused for Fitzy to walk in the diner ahead of him. “Look who I found just hanging around the square, chatting up the ladies. I told him since he’s got time to exercise those jaws of his that he could come in here, and get a full body workout while he flirted with the co-eds.”

When Harris smirked, he looked exactly like Presley. So much so that my stupid hyperaware body fluttered. It didn’t care that the handsome twenty something standing awkwardly at my hostess stand wasn’t in fact the same one that licked his fingers seconds after having his hand down my pants, like he’d just scraped the inside of use cake bowl.

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