“Why are we outside? You didn’t buy that car, did you?”
I also demanded she take care of all my money—both my earning from the videos and endorsements as well as the trust.
I used to do it, but it was nice leaving that in her hands. She’s strict with the money, though, and tells me I’m way too frivolous. I think we make a good team. If Rory was in charge, we’d eat spaghetti and ramen for dinner, but the family needs steak now and then.
“No. I didn’t replace your Jeep.” Even though that thing seems to be one pothole away from collapsing, I’ve honored her wishes and not bought her a car. She usually drives my truck anyway. Besides, my parents are buying her a car this Christmas. She can’t tell them no.
I nod toward Dean, who flips a switch, and as soon as the snow starts falling, I take my hands away and shout, “Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas!” yell her brothers. Logan runs over and throws himself at Rory’s legs.
“Do you love it, Rory, do you love it?”
Rory holds out her hands, her face glowing with wonder. “Is…this snow?”
“It is snow, Rory,” Logan says at the top of his lungs. “Isn’t it cool?”
“How?” Her brows furrow together as she searches for the snow-making machine, but it’s around the corner of the small house hidden by a bunch of saw horses and lumber that I’m using to build an addition. My latest DIY series is bringing in big numbers. Nothing my followers enjoy more than seeing me sweat, for some reason.
“It’s magic,” I tell her and steer her away from the machine and into the small snowfall. It’s cold for Texas, but not cold enough to prevent the snow from melting the moment it hits the ground. Still, as long as you look up or forward, it feels winter-y.
“Why do I feel like it would’ve been cheaper for you to replace the Jeep?”
“Nah, I’m frugal now. This is courtesy of Wendy’s Heating and Cooling over in Jackson City. I’ll film Dean and Logan pelting me with snowballs later for an ad.”
Rory pats me on the shoulder. “Good job out of you.”
“Great. Then let’s enjoy the snow.” I pick up a thermos I left before I brought her out and unscrew the top. “Hot chocolate.” I hand her the cup and drape a candy cane over the edge. “And a hat.” Dean hands me the red scarf, hat, and mittens set. I tug the hat over her head and wrap the scarf around her neck. “It’s cold in the snow.”
Her cheeks are growing rosy. “It is, isn’t it?” She hums as she takes a sip of her cocoa.
She’s so easy to make happy, so easy to love. I lean down and kiss her, sweeping my tongue inside her mouth, tasting the chocolate and the mint and her.
Dean and Logan make gagging noises, but it only makes me kiss her longer until finally, she pushes me away. “Behave,” she whispers.
“I will for the next”—I check my watch—“five minutes.”
“What’s in five minutes?”
“Grandpa Rick and Grandma Cherie are coming to take us to see the new Star Wars movie!” Logan says, his volume still at ten.
Moments after he says that, my parents’ Mercedes pulls up next to the sidewalk. Mom hurries out before Dad can open her door and throws her arms open. Logan throws himself at her and they hug like they’ve not seen each other in a year when it’s only been a couple of days. The boys wave goodbye and then clamber into the car, disappearing down the street.
Rory drops down onto the top step and sips her cocoa. The snow falls around her face, making her look angelic.
“Next year, let’s go to a place with real snow.”
“Like where? Vail?”
“I was thinking Canada. Lake Louise. We can ice skate, ride horses in the snow, take sleigh rides, make love in front of a fireplace.”
“I like all of those ideas.”
“Great, because I booked it.” I pull a piece of paper out of my pocket and hand it to her. “This is next year’s present. Don’t expect any more,” I lie.
“Are you doing a promotional video for them, too?” She unfolds the travel itinerary.
“Nope. This is out of our savings. You’ll have to live with that.”
“You think I’m cheap, don’t you?” She nudges my shoulder.
I wrap my free arm around her and pull her close. “No. I think you grew up without a lot, and it’s hard to forget that. I think you’re awesome, and without you, I’d probably spend every dime I made.”
“I doubt that. Your bank account was more than healthy when I took it over.”
“I didn’t have much to spend it on. I was saving it up to spoil you.”
“How’d you know you loved me? Like why me?”
“Why not you?” I counter.
“Because there are other girls—prettier, richer, smarter.”
“Richer, maybe, but prettier and smarter? Never. I loved you since the day you kicked David Rodrigo in the balls when he said that women existed to make men sandwiches during health class in eighth grade.”
“That far back?” She’s shocked. I kiss her again.
“Yeah. I was a goner. I tried to ask you out, but you were never around, and it was in the eighth grade so I waited.”
“And waited,” she says.
“And waited,” I add.
“And here I am.” She grins like an imp.
“Yup.” I get to my feet and then throw her over my shoulder. “Now it’s time for payback.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I slap her ass and carry her inside. “It means it’s time for you to suffer for all the waiting I did. I’m going to eat you out until you start orgasming, and then I’m going to stop until the urge goes away. I’ll repeat it again and again until—”
“Until I feel as anxious as you did for years?”
I throw her on the bed. “Until you admit you love me.”
Her eyes grow tender. “I do love you.”
I pull my shirt off over my head. “Say it again.”
“I love you, Tyson Carter.”
“And again,” I demand as I shed my jeans.
“I love you to the moon and back.”
“You’re my whole universe, Rory.” I peel off her clothes and slide inside of her, forgetting my promise to make her suffer. She’s wet and hot and welcoming. Her legs part, and her arms come up to clutch my body close.
“And you’re my whole life, Tyson.”
“Merry Christmas,” I murmur, and then I shut up so that I can give her the greatest present of all—orgasms! Nah, kidding, it’s love.
EPILOGUE
RORY
MANY YEARS LATER
“Tyson!” I cry out as I start to come. I was so sure I was dreaming. Or I suppose it’s a mix of both. I’d been dreaming about my husband, his face between my thighs, to only wake with it actually happening.
“You taste sweeter,” I hear him say. My mind is still foggy with sleep. “Obviously my wife is keeping shit from me,” he mutters.
“What?” I ask, thinking I’ve missed something. He doesn’t answer me, though. Instead, he flips me over, grabbing my hips and pulling me to my knees. A half-second later, he’s thrusting all the way inside of me. “Don’t like when you keep shit from me.”