Page 37 of Christmas in Vines

A knot twisted her brows. “Where did you go off to?”

“I was making a mental list of my boo-boos for you to kiss later,” I teased, twisting my neck to her. “But before that, how about some dinner, or supper, or something hot and spicy?”

“Burritos.” She piped up, grabbing my hand and towing me to the town center. “There is a lovely little cart there that sells the most amazing burritos.”

We got to the cart and while Willow got in line, I didn’t follow immediately, but instead stopped to watch the snow drift down from the sky in large lazy flakes. Glancing around, I savored the crisp scent of spices, aromas and freshly fallen snow, attempting to capture every exquisite detail of the moment and drill it into my mind.

All those years back home and all those clinical Christmases I’d lived through, in the lap of luxury, were a dark smudge compared to this one. I had missed out—I really had.

“Tyler?” Willow twisted over her shoulder, “Brisket, chicken or pork?”

“Brisket,” I went to her side and looked into the booth and the steaming serving trays. “Please.”

We got our burritos and sauce then headed out to quieter places around the square. The brisket even tasted better than the premium cuts we’d had at Christmas dinner. Spicier, softer, all around more delicious than I had expected. After dumping my trash in a bin, I turned to Willow, “Today was… eventful.”

“It’s not over yet,” Willow grinned.

I barely turned and with one quick push to my chest, I tipped over and landed on my back, on a pile of snow with a plop. Powdery snow flew up and the mischievous expression on Willow’s face erased the surprise from mine and I began to laugh.

Happiness, joy, and carefree glee bubbled inside and the last vestiges of something cold and hard shell buried deep inside my heart suddenly broke off and melted away. It felt good. Really good.

“What am I doing down here?” I asked.

“You’re supposed to be making snow angels,” she replied.

“You took me by surprise. Help me up so I can find a better place. The pile has to be ruined by now,” I held out my gloved hands and Willow reached out and grabbed my hands, but I twisted my hand and with a firm, powerful yank, tugged her down with me.

Her laughter was contagious, and another burst of happiness swept through me in a tremendous wave that I couldn’t help but laugh with her. The stars were glittering gems set on a velvet sky, so clear and crystalized over the shadows of the northern mountains.

“Willow…” I shifted my head to her when the mirth had died down.

“Hm?” she asked, looking back at me.

I chose my words carefully, “Have you ever felt like… the truth of something had been staring you in the face for a long time but no matter how hard you look, you just couldn’t see it?”

“Oh, fuck yeah,” she breathed out. “That was me with Maxwell. No matter how much he treated me like his back-up plan, I never let myself see it until I was forced to see it. The day I walked in on him having sex with that girl, even though I took him back, there was something in the back of my mind that woke up. Things started to add up and I just had enough.”

She swung a leg over and straddled me like a cowgirl on a bronco. “So, what was it that you were too blind to see?”

“Christmas,” I replied. “Growing up, our Christmases were… I guess you could say, sterile. We had the big fake white Christmas tree, presents and we had dinner, but that very next night, my parents were back at work. They owned a business, so they had to be on top of what was happening. While my dad worked management, Mom went out and made connections, investors, stuff like that. It was mostly my brother and I and my brother…well, he had his nose stuck into books most of the time.”

“So…it was basically you, alone?” she inferred. “That’s horrible. That’s no way for a kid to celebrate Christmas.”

I shrugged. “My folks… they aren’t bad people. They just had a lot more on their mind than family time.”

Especially when it came to beating the Sullivans at their own game.

She kissed me, soft and long, and I kissed her right back. The kiss, so tender, her mouth so hot and familiar, made me want to kiss her forever. I’d been with other women since I was nineteen, but this kiss made up for the nine years of kisses that were now clearly inferior to Willow.

She broke the kiss—but only just. Nothing, no kiss, no connection, not even full-blown sex that I’d ever had before felt so electric, so overwhelming so… almost inevitable.

“Baby,” I asked. “Are you okay?”

She met my gaze. “That’s my kryptonite.”

“What is?” My brows twisted in confusion.

“Pet names,” Willow whispered. “Sweetheart, baby, honey, boo, beautiful, angel, baby girl. They turn my insides liquid.”

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