Page 17 of Tinsel and Teasing

What am I experiencing? It can’t be jealousy because I’d rather have his arms around me than my name on a log any day.

My brain wakes up a little more. We’re snuggling. Those feelings of comfort and security aren’t what I was trying to accomplish. But I like them…a lot. Too much.

A lump forms in my throat. One more orgasm and I might be willing to throw my dreams away. Grandma would be so disappointed, especially if I gave up all of the hard work I put into being self-sufficient over the passionate declarations of sexy-jacks.

There’s an easy way to put this dilemma to rest for Clyde and me.

I roll and stretch. “It’s fine, Clyde. I know about Hardwood. I follow you—just like all of the local girls. It’s fun to have a celebrity in town. Go ahead and do your drawing. It’s not like I expect any of you to quit your jobs because of me.”

I force myself to stop talking because my thoughts are getting jumbled. I’m only here for a night. No one needs to think about spending so much time with me that they can’t go to work.

Clyde’s arm that’s over my chest goes stiff. I could have handled the reveal more gracefully. Too late now.

“You know about that? Is all of this so I’ll pretend to draw your name?” The Arctic blast in his tone is a polar contrast to the rest of our time together. I should have kept my mouth shut.

I shake my head but he’s not looking. I manage a soft, “No.”

“Quit moping and get your damn job done, Clyde.” Knox is sitting and shifts me onto his lap.

“You just want time alone with her. Fine. You can have it.” Clyde throws the covers off and rolls out of the other side of the bed.

Luke stretches as he wakes. He blows a kiss when his eyes land on me leaning over Knox’s shoulder. Can he tell that my smile is forced?

“I’ll come out to help like always,” Knox offers.

Attempting to lighten the mood and keep this superficial, I say, “How about we all go? We can cheer you on.”

Clyde stares out the window. “Fine, let’s go.”

He’s the first to throw jeans and a flannel on, even buttons it, which is weird because I’m one hundred percent certain that even when he’s had a shirt on in a video or photo, it hasn’t been buttoned.

Luke hands me a blanket. “You can wrap up in this if you don’t want to get dressed.”

“Thanks. Will I be able to see from the porch? I only have my high heels.”

Clyde must have been listening. “You can wear my slippers.”

He ducks into his closet and pulls out big, brown, furry slippers, complete with claws.

Not what I was expecting.

He shrugs, “Or don’t wear them. I don’t care.”

I stand and reach for them but Luke intercepts and kneels in front of me. “Allow me.”

Cupping the back of my calf, he lifts my leg while Knox steadies me from behind. I’d think Luke was putting a glass slipper on my foot with as much care as he’s taking. By the time the second foot is covered, I have two oversized Big Foot style feet. They’re plush enough that even though they’re at least six sizes too big, they might stay on if I walk carefully.

But that’s not an issue. Knox scoops me up, Luke tucks the blanket around me, and all I have to do is snuggle in. How did I let it go this far? I should be at home with my pups.

New-fallen snow blankets everything, creating a pristine, magical environment. Tiny flakes continue falling, and I extend a hand beyond the edge of the porch to catch some. Knox moves forward so I can reach easier then directs Luke to set up the tripod.

Clyde knocks the snow off of a section of log that he sets on the chopping stump.

My chest tightens. I don’t enter his contests, so my name won’t be drawn. He’d have to fake it. Not that I’d want him to. Besides, his process is transparent. He uses one camera to stream the footage while holding the other camera up to show the random number generator he uses for the drawing. Then he scrolls down through the comments on the entry post and finds the winner.

There’s a heaviness in his demeanor. He’s usually rowdy, taunting every single woman who’s watching with bated breath—at least that’s how I watch.

Again, silly, since I don’t enter. I guess I don’t want to come across as a fangirl when I know that he lives nearby. My fantasy brain must have held on to the idea that someday we’d meet in real life and…well, I messed that up.

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