Page 101 of The Art of Being Merry
Dax flips over, pushing my back to the bed. “You got one more in you this afternoon?”
“Guess you’ll have to find out.”
His eyes widen, and his smirk deepens.
No matter what happens in the future, I’m going to soak up all this man is prepared to give me and not focus on the “what ifs.” Hell, I’m really good at that.
I’m going to pretend this time it’s going to work out.
A backdrop of enormous cardboard pieces, painted with snow, igloos, and Santa’s Workshop, surrounds the walls of the cafeteria. I’m especially proud of the cardboard Santa’s house, complete with doors and windows that open. I wasn’t sure we’d get it completed in time, but it seems the people of Winterberry Junction take their decorations seriously. Even for a one-day event. It seems like it’s a waste to redo them every year, but the theme changes, so of course the decorationsneed to as well.
“It’s like we’ve truly stepped into the North Pole.”
“The decorations are amazing this year.”
“Who painted these gorgeous backdrops? The photo op is brilliant!”
The number of times I’ve overheard comments like this or similar this morning is astounding. My heart gets a little happier with each one. I could never make a living selling this sort of art, but it doesn’t hurt to hear my efforts aren’t unnoticed or unappreciated. Each one gives my ego a boost.
Dax leans in closer to me at the long table of the school’s cafeteria. “I think they like your scenery.” His breath tickles my ear, and the chaste kiss makes my heart soar.
“I’m so happy they’re enjoying it.”
“Just know you’re officially recruited to be a permanent member of the decorations committee. You’re stuck with us.”
There are worse things in the world. Though I could do without Birdie. For a woman in her late eighties, she makes her opinions known. At every meeting, she challenged my ideas and questioned my ability. I’ve been told by every other person on the committee that she possesses zero art skills and not to take anything she says to heart. It’s like she was out to get me simply because I was a newcomer. Like I was here to make a mockery of the town’s holiday breakfast tradition instead of offering to paint decorations. She’s stuck in her ways and welcomes change like an old oak that creaks at every gust but refuses to fall. I’ve avoided speaking to her today, but her pointed stares and glares from across the room are plentiful. I don’t even know what she could be mad about. Everyone loves the scenery and is having a great time.
Shania volunteered to hang out with my boys and their friends. I figured she’d want to hang with her friends, especially since most of the town has been here at one point or another, but she shrugged it off like it wasn’t a big deal. Atlas and Jace had no qualms about going with her to play games and do other activities.
“Want to find a supply closet and make out?”
I nearly choke on the bite of French toast at Dax’s suggestion.After I swallow carefully, I hiss, “No. Not appropriate.” Though the idea has merit.
Except no. This is a family event. I’m not the woman who sneaks off with her boyfriend to make out in any kind of closet.
At least not anymore.
Now, I’ve got the boys to think about, along with my reputation as an upstanding citizen of Winterberry Junction. Much as it sounds fabulous, clandestine, and hot, I won’t let the fact I haven’t kissed Dax in about a week deter my decision.
“My fingers could also take the edge off. You seem a little tense, Clementine.”
It would be so easy. Five, ten minutes. No one would miss us.
“No.” I stand firm in my decision, repeating, “No.”
“Later, at my parents’, sneak down to my apartment. Give me ten minutes. I’m desperate.” He keeps his voice low so I’m the only one who can hear his naughty words. A thrill shoots through me, and moisture pools between my thighs. He makes me wanton for him and every idea he has.
The thing is, I’m desperate, too. Between our work schedules, the boys, and the holiday preparations, the last time we were alone was the day in my bed when I branded him, nearly a week ago. I’m beyond desperate. We’ve taken to sexting and late-night masturbation FaceTime calls, but it’s not the same nor nearly enough. Perhaps because I’ve been starved for so long, or the connection between Dax and me is that strong.
He’s the man dreams are made of. My dreams, especially.
“We’ll see” is the best I can give him. I won’t put myself in a situation to be caught in a compromising position by one of his family members or my kids. His family pretty much knows, and much to his surprise, no one gave him a hard time or questioned his commitment. As his mom told me, “He only needed the right woman for him to be consumed.” After dropping the bomb, she walked away, not caring she tilted my life on its axis.
We haven’t told the boys, but considering Dax joins us for nearly every meal or shows us another part of his hometown, I’m sure they know something’s up. Atlas, at least. Jace is happy for the extra cuddles and attention Dax gives him. Can’t say I blame him.
Willa returns to her seat across the table, and Beckett forces Dax to go with him. Something about committee duties. Dax leaves a kiss on the top of my head because he can’t help himself. And I swoon because I can’t help myself.
“You’re glowing. It’s good to see you happy.” Willa’s words elicit a smile on my lips.
