Page 2 of The Baby Clause
3 Sexy Side of the Law
Jerry
“You know you shouldn’t be driving this thing in this weather. At least put some winter tires on it, for goodness’ sake.” His disapproving growl kick-started my brain again. Unfortunately, it was my little brain and getting a full hard-on while the Sheriff tried his best to be a dick wasn’t helping my case. “You city types are all the same, completely clueless and impractical. How many times have I suggested you get a truck? But you keep driving this hot-rod.”
Hot-rod… those words were doing things to me, just when I thought I was getting myself under control. Clearly the Sheriff hadn’t had enough coffee, or not enough jam in his donut to make him sweeter and tame his inner grump because it was giving him frown lines. Not that those made him any less appealing. Some men were just too sexy for their own good.
That he had a broad chest and muscles that suggested he was more than capable of manhandling me wasn’t bad, either. Oh, what the hell, today was already a downer. Why not poke the bear, or the wolf and make my terrible day complete?
“Because I like it and you can man-handle my hot-rod whenever you like, Sheriff.”
As I’d thought, Mason Carmichael was immune to all kinds of innuendo and suggestion. Apart from a small twitching of his dark brows, he otherwise showed no response. Clearly, my pathetic attempt at a playful and flirty comment had fallen flatter than I’d expected. Not that I’d expected him to respond any other way. As I said-MARS.
If anything, his stone-like demeanor only turned more rigid.Opps!Showing him my submissive, playful side might have been a mistake. Mason looked at me like I’d grown a second head. Could you imagine what he’d think if he saw my collection of butt plugs? I think steam would pour out of his ears while his brain fried. What can I say? I’m a contradiction. I’m an alpha who doesn’t want to be one, not that I want kids either. I just wanted someone who’d accept me as I am, an alpha/ submissive with omega quirks. Who’s saying that’s wrong? The world is full of people with quirks. Mine just come with a little kink. The weight of his disapproving glare was pulling me down. Ugh, so he wasn’t big into playful and flirty. It really was his loss because my bootie was F.I.N.E. just saying. Any guy would jump at the chance, clearly not this one, but any reasonable non wolf guy would be more than willing. So willing that I’d have to beat them off with a stick, yes only in my dreams was that scenario even likely.
“I’ll look into it, Sheriff, but I don’t think Pete’s garage carries tires that would fit these rims. I was just in town stocking up. I don’t plan on heading out at all when the weather gets bad, so you won’t have to worry about me rear ending anyone or finding my lifeless body and smashed up car in a ditch.”
Mason did that raised eyebrow thing that he did when he was clearly unamused and barely restraining himself from calling me a smart-ass and arresting me for annoying him. If he wanted to use handcuffs, I’d be totally up for that, just as long as they were the fluffy ones. I had it on good authority that real handcuffs chaffed, and I needed to feel my hand to be able to draw and type. Also, to work over my over-excited cock that wasn’t getting the message that here and now was not a good place for it to perk up. Seriously, I shouldn’t find a guy like Mason so attractive. Sure, he was the right build, tall and broad, strong… but his mood swung from grumpy to damn well pissed-off in less time than my car could do nought to sixty and my car was damn quick. Maybe it was the perpetual twelve o’clock shadow or it could be the smoldering, almost black eyes that sucked me in like a gravity well. It could also be the fact that he was one deep breath short of bulging out of his uniform. Not that he was wearing much of one, but his dark blue shirt was paired with distressed jeans.I knew the feeling. What was in my jeans was feeling pretty distressed.What was less surprising was his weathered Timberlands. His whole appearance just shouted ‘I’m rugged and can handle anything’.
The fact that he didn’t look happy at the thought of seeing my smashed-up corpse was a plus, but still far from a win in the… ‘Come sip wine by the fire with me’ prospects. Yep, me and Suction-Bob-Long-Dick were in for a hot and heavy night tonight.
“I’d much appreciate not having to pull you from anything during the festivities, Jerry, so drive safe and call the Weather Station if you need anything. IF the forecast is right, then we’re expecting record snow and the roads to you will be impassable without a four-by-four or snowcat. Also, please remember the skiers. They can’t run out of your way wearing ski boots, and especially that guy on crutches you almost side-swiped as you pulled up. This is not Daytona; Jerry and YOU are not a race driver. Do you hear me?”
I could see his lips moving, forming words. I could hear a note of warning and got more than a hint of disapproval of my awesome driving skill. But all my fuzzy brain could focus on was just how good it would feel to have those lips claiming mine.
“Yep, sure thing, Sheriff. I’ll be sure to do that.” What else could I say, because I was sure if I asked him to fuck me over the hood of his police truck, I was definitely going to end up with a ticket for indecently propositioning an officer of the law!
As suggested, I drove back carefully, like I had Miss Daisy in the seat beside me. Unloaded precious, then tucked him away under a heavy sheet to keep the harsh temperature from his delicate pearlescent coral orange paintwork.
I was a mere minute into my decadent shower, and had just worked myself open enough for Suction-Bob to work his magic when the power stuttered out plunging the bathroom into darkness, just as the power shower shut off the heat and doused me in water cold enough to freeze my dick off. I may or may-not let out an undignified yelp. Which was befitting the situation, considering I was half impaled on the wall, waiting for my night vision to come into focus while my dick withered before me. So much for a romantic night for one. Instead, I was going to have to get dressed and go see to the generator.
4 Unwanted Gift
Jerry
The dawn’s early light caught on the fresh blanket of snow, making it appear like a carpet of diamonds. On a morning like this, my inner fox wanted me to shift, so he could dance around and make tracks in the unblemished surface. I, however, had other plans, namely coffee and pancakes, a little indulgent, but fuck-it. My evening had become a total wreck after the power shut off when the snowstorm hit. I’d spent most of the night twatting about trying to get the generator to work, then stoking the old coal boiler into life. Since my arrival here, I’d made quite a few improvements to the cabin, but it was old and the wind always seemed to find a gap somewhere, no matter how much insulation I added. When I’d finally fallen into bed, the cabin was warm again. I’d wanted to get an early start on my work and get the draft design for a new beauty-line done before heading out again for more wood. Mason had mentioned the Weather Station. It was part of the mountain patrol who were mainly geared up to rescue stranded skiers when they’d found themselves in difficulty. Skiing, I didn’t see the appeal, although I might have been a little biased. Wrecking my knee, the first time I tried it, would do that to a man. Especially when it was on the baby slopes and right in front of Mason-perfect-at-everything-Carmichael. Who had been there teaching kids, while looking like a snow god, was there anything that guy couldn’t do-besides smile? I was pretty sure he couldn’t do that. You know when your mom tells you to not make faces when you’re a kid because the wind might change and you’d be stuck like that? Clearly, the wind changed at resting-grumpy-face. Thinking about Mason would not get my day started any faster. Savoring the last few sips of my coffee, I checked the weather forecast. It looked like another beautiful day in the mountains, but anyone who’d spent enough time here knew that a storm front could sweep in without warning, turning the skies from a clear blue to opaque white in an instant. Which was why I had the sat-phone. Just in case of emergencies, I just had to charge the damn thing.
There were over twenty emails waiting for me when I opened my mailbox, most of them were from Stefan asking for progress updates on my other projects and begging me not to ‘get upset’ about a last-minute urgent design alteration that was needed for a New Year’s Eve product launch for a nail polish. At least he’d stopped giving me design suggestions. I was not about to take the advice of a guy who thought a two-piece tweed suit was the height of fashion for anyone under the age of 150. The problem was I liked the firm, I enjoyed the work, Stefan was a pain in the jacksy I could do without. Unless I wanted to quit and go freelance, I was more or less stuck with him. Yes, there are other firms out there, but there were Stefan types out there that were infinitely more annoying than him-so better the devil, you know. Right?
Which is why I made it more than clear that not only did I expect to get a better ‘festive bonus’ than normal and that he had better be sending me a special gift hamper-preferably with a bottle of scotch inside. Throwing a hissy fit wasn’t usual for me, but there came a point when being Mr. Nice all the time meant that other people would take advantage. This was not the first time I’d been asked to effectively pull an all-nighter and make magic happen. It was fucking exhausting, and I had a long night ahead of me living on coffee and mini chocolate bars, and don’t get me started on how numb my tail was going to be or how much my back was going to ache. Maybe I should have asked for a body massage instead? Being known as being too nice was one reason I now lived alone out in the woods without a mainline phone. That way my family couldn’t call and no-one was just ‘going to pop by’ for a catch-up. What that actually meant was that they wanted to bitch and moan, expecting me to fix their problems. Well, fuck that. I was done being Mr. Nice Guy. I was Mr. No-Drama these days.
After four hours and three restarts, I was happy that I was on the right path with the new design, when in the ‘zone’ I pretty much forgot everything. A nuclear bomb could have gone off, and I’d have been none the wiser. It also meant I’d worked through both lunch and dinner and if I were a larger shifter, I probably would have been chewing my own arm off by now. As a fox, I was used to having to wait to find food. I’d forage in the cupboards later, maybe. If I remembered. I was so close to completion; I didn’t want to lose the train of thought. It was like a flash of inspiration or a rainbow brightening the skies during a rainstorm, and when it struck, you had to capture it quickly. That’s how today went. The only time I left my desk was to head to the bathroom or put another log on the fire. It wasn’t unusual for me to fall asleep at my desk. I was truly a hopeless individual. I lived alone and fuck myself on the suction dildo, avoiding most people because I didn’t know which version of myself, I needed to be. My social awkwardness made me act in a way that annoyed the hell out of the people I wanted to be the closest to. People like Mason and those people had a preconceived idea of what a ‘Fox’ was like, when really, I was more like a squirrel. I was shy, jittery, and loved nibbling on someone else’s nuts.
I’d worked two days solid and, as predicted, slept at my desk. My neck had more kinks than the rest of me. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, not that you’d know it looking at my cabin. There was little point going all out decorating, only to have to take it all down again in a few days. I’d added a small sprig of mistletoe above the door to my already minimal decorations. I was pretty sure my mom and Brian would have been horrified at my pathetic-half ass attempt at decorating, but since no one would be visiting, I didn’t really care.
My plan for Christmas Eve was to get all of my tasks done so I could spend Christmas Day vegging out on the couch. I’d finished the last few touches on the design and emailed them over to the client and Stefan with a note to not forget my present, then shut off my machine and did the same to my cell phone to make sure I’d be uninterrupted. Not that it was likely to happen but, on the off chance that some random person had the idea of calling me up to drunkenly sing ‘we wish you a Merry Christmas’. One word… Dennis. Yep, good old Dennis thought it was hilarious to repeatedly call me singing that song over and over. I was so over it. I had shit to do. While I’d had my head buried in my work, I’d not noticed even more white stuff had fallen from the sky–it seemed, just to annoy me. Which also meant I was going to have to gear up again and clear that damn stuff from the trackway and check that it wasn’t about to bring the roof down. I really didn’t want to have to climb up on the roof and shovel off the snow. But better than waking up to find I now lived in an igloo, just the thought of it made my teeth chatter. Ugh, snow shoveling first, then a hot bath to warm myself back up and if I really felt like pushing the boat out… a hot chocolate with a dash of spiced rum. Yeah, baby, I was living the dream!
I was not living the dream; I was refilling the wood pile. Christmas movies don’t show this part, because if they did, everyone would have switched off by now. Seriously, living out in the backwoods surrounded by mountains and lots of pretty snow was not what they made it out to be. I’d not encountered a single sexy lumberjack offering me his wood or anything else. Thanks to the snow-gods, I didn’t have to climb up on the roof and do a poor impression of Santa only with a shovel and not with presents. I wasn’t the largest built guy, but there was no way I was squeezing my cute butt down that chimney.
Finally, I was lazing in front of the fire. Small candles burnt along the mantel-shelf, casting a gentle glow against the walls, chasing the twilight shadows away. I was sitting in my favorite recliner reading the latest dragon romance novel. I’d never actually encountered a real one. I wasn’t sure they existed anymore, not really a surprise. As out of all the shifters, they were the most ‘unwelcome’. Personally, I thought they’d be great at BBQ’s and any outdoor party where fire was needed, but it seems my opinion wasn’t the norm. Officially, the last dragon had died out a thousand years ago. But me, I didn’t think so. If I were a dragon, I’d spread the rumor that we were all dead, too. A little drastic, but that’s what Brain thought my moving to Breckenridge was. Yeah, whatever. I sipped my hot chocolate. I might have gone a little heavy with the rum, but it wasn’t like I was planning to drive anywhere or operate any heavy machinery. I looked at the flickering flames dancing in the fireplace. Apart from the hiss and crackle of the logs, there were no other sounds. This time next year, would I be sitting here alone like this, or would my life be any different?
Merry Christmas to me! I rolled out of bed. My head felt heavy and my eyelids were even heavier. Definitely too much rum. I was such a lightweight. I showered and dressed in my favorite onesie. Its fur was almost the same color as my Fox, but that was about it. My squirrel’s tail was really fluffy, and it bounced around behind as I walked.
Was I expecting any last-minute present deliveries? If Stefan knew what was good for him, then yes. The likelihood of that was, well, slim. But still I had a silly hope that I’d find something special sitting outside my door, waiting for me. Ideally something in a bottle, alcoholic and expensive, with or without bubbles. Champagne would be good, whisky would be better, it would help chase away the cold. I was still thinking that when I heard a thud against the door, opening it to see a log had fallen free from the woodpile. It had rolled a few feet away and had come to a stop next to a basket that was tucked in the side of the porch.
Oh, Stefan has outdone himself! A hamper… it had to be.All I could think about was what an amazing gift I was going to find inside. The basket was about a foot square and made of wicker. It was heavier than I expected, which should have been the first sign that all was not as it seemed. Still, I was too eager to get out of the cold. Picking it up, I hurried inside and placed the basket on my desk, intending to head to the kitchen for a glass. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw the hamper move. That couldn’t be right? No. Stefan wouldn’t have bought me a… pet?!? Would he? All thoughts of liquid indulgence evaporated the second I flipped back the lid.
Holy shit, fuck!
