Page 22 of Christmas in Coconut Creek

“Too bad I’m not a little girl, Francesco,” I whispered, licking a teasing trail up the shell of his ear.

Frankie adjusted himself with the heel of his palm, tugging his pants away from his crotch. He wasn’t the nearest bit subtle about it, and if anything, I’d sabotaged myself—thatgesture further stirring the pressure between my legs. I wanted him to ache, but the feeling was unsatisfyingly mutual.

“You’re a sadist,” Frankie groaned.

“I’m starting to think so, too,” I agreed.

“I’m going to go shower then and take care of this.” He vaguely gestured to his dick, creasing a line in the fabric of his pants as he stood. “I’ll leave the door unlocked for you, O.”

“Don’t flatter yourself!”

Iwashungoverandsticky in all places a person shouldn’t, and wouldn’t, everwantto be. I ached for a toothbrush and some hot water to wash away the night before. There was glitter stuck to my fingers when I rubbed my face, which could only mean there was glitter in several other unappetizing areas of my body that would take the remainder of the trip to remove. And now that I wasvery much awake—thanks to Frankie and the visions of what he was currently doing in his shower—I needed some fresh air at the very least.

I stumbled across the house on my tiptoes. Now lighter than at midnight, it was easier to familiarize myself with the rooms. The floorplan was open, with lots of closets for storage and neutral gray and beige paints with white trim. Simple, but well maintained. A laundry room withseveraltypes of detergent—impressive, and also unheard of. Shoe rack, durable end tables, a few framed photos on the mantle of the gas fireplace.

I picked up one that I recognized. A group of men, arms and beers slung over each other's shoulders, Frankie on one end next to the man I now knew as Mateo. Two others were on his right—dirty blonds, with a brotherly resemblance.

“I knew it.” I laughed to myself at the glossy photo I’d seen on his dating profile.

There wasn’t much down the hallway. Closed doors that I surmised were more storage closets. Further down there was another wider one I knew was Mateo and Nat’s. Then Frankie’s bedroom, and the bathroom next door where I could hear the soft stream of a shower head running.

In the living room a sliding glass door opened to a lush, green backyard, and I slipped out into the thick Floridian air.

It had to have been mid-morning, but my phone was dead and still stuffed between the couch cushions inside so I couldn’t check. I hovered a hand over my eyes like a shade; the sun was high and bright enough to burn my poor, overused retinas on impact. It was already too warm for Frankie’s sweater and socks I had on, even for December, and I had to laugh thinking about the people back home at that moment in Pine Ridge slogging through two feet of snow. It was like I was on a completely different planet, never mind just in a different state.

I took the socks off, walking around on the warm pavers that provided a significant patio space in the backyard. There was a stainless-steel grill to one end, right next to a beautiful six-seat wooden dining table with comfy cushioned chairs that I gave a squeeze as I walked by. Opposite that, a big, covered hot tub sat under an oversized turquoise blue hanging umbrella. The rest of the fenced-in backyard was landscaped in grass, so short and manicured it looked like it was rolled straight off a golfing green, and then a large shed in the far corner.

“Giving yourself a tour?”

I didn’t hear the sliding glass close behind me, but Frankie was standing quietly outside holding two hot mugs of coffee. He was fresh out of the shower in board shorts andnoshirt, the curling ends of his hair damp and dripping at the nape of his neck. His skin was beautifully tan. A soft trail of hair swirled his belly button and disappeared beneath the peak of his boxers that made my throat feel like a desert floor.

“It’s really nice,” I complimented, taking the second mug from him as he came closer. “Not bad for two men, I gotta give it to you. You even have a hot tub.”

“We like nice things, too. It’s not an inherently feminine trait.”

“What do you do for work?”

“Cybersecurity.”

My eyebrows knitted together. “Cybersecurity? Seriously?”

“It’s actually Cap’s gig; he runs it right from home most days. Installing secure access software for larger companies in the area, monitoring the activity across all their channels looking for threats. I’m just his donkey.”

“Fitting.”

“I set myself up for that one.”

“You did.” I smirked.

Frankie snorted and took a sip of his coffee. “Uncle Sam paid for college so we did everything online when we got out. Honestly, it’s nothing spectacular, but most people are technologically illiterate and think Cap’s some kind of computer hacking, dark web surfer.”

“So then why were you looking for jobs in Colorado?”

“I make out well doing this, but it’s notmine. You know? It’s Mateo’s. Sitting behind a computer all day isn’t what I envisioned myself doing. I’m good at flying, and I miss it.”

“I get it.” I gave him a soft smile. “I couldn’t imagine doing anything but teaching. Seeing the passion in those kids and knowing I’m making a positive impact is worth every late night grading the same multiplication table over and over again.”

“I wish I had teachers that looked like you in school.”

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