Page 8 of Mr. Winter
“Put out what, exactly?” he asks as he signals for the tab.
“Goodwill every time I refrain from punching you in the dick.”
He snickers for a bit then sobers. “Baby, If you really knew what my dick could do, you wouldn’t punch it.” He gives the server the money Deacon had thrown out to clear the tab, then we stand. “Let’s go meet my sister and her husband to get some more drinks. I’m sure there are more people who want to see ya, girl.”
He puts his hand on the small of my back to escort me out like a normal gentleman, but I see a few people look at us like we’re about to fuck.
Chapter 4
Arden
My stupid ass alarm goes off, and while I’m usually comforted by a symphony’s rendition of Silver Bells, my headache has different plans. Groaning, I reach over to hit the alarm but hit a muscled arm instead. I’m not alarmed, my nose tells me what’s going on without having to open my eyes.
“Mack? Why the fuck are you in my bed?”
“The same reason why your big ass forehead is damn near in my armpit. We’re single as fuck with nothing better to do than bother each other.”
“You picked out and designed your own room in this very house, MF.”
He squeezes me with no intention of moving. “I like to cuddle when I’m drunk. Let’s be honest, no one’s chasin’ ya.”
I pinch my lips together to withhold comment but stretch my arm and legs then push until I hear the satisfying thud of Mack’s big ass body hitting the floor. Mack chuckles from the ground, but my triumph is short-lived when I feel myself sliding off my bed. Grabbing a pillow, I brace for impact. My head throbs when I land, although my fall is cushioned.
“Ow. I have a hangover, jackass.”
“Your fault. I told you about challenging me to drinking contests,” he counters.
It’s a good thing it’s cold because I realize we’re both fully clothed. We must have jumped in bed like two drunk idiots. I flail my legs and arms to have a proper tantrum since I’m on the floor already.
“I don’t want to be an adult today,” I whine then finally open my eyes to look at my highly disheveled best friend.
“Too fucking bad.” He turns to rise from the floor but pauses on his knees to smack my ass. “And you’re buyingmybreakfast this morning, asshole.”
Accepting fate, I get up to start my day. Times like this, I’m like to hell with ambition. I’ll end my career and live off my trust fund like a proper heiress. I think really hard about it through my shower. I mean I’m usually pretty good at getting the Fairhope boys to pick up tabs and shit like that, so my money could really stretch. I feel half-way human once I’m out of the shower and somewhat capable of kissing Mack when he offers me a cup of gingerbread coffee—almost. Now that I’m wired, I realize I was feeding myself bullshit. I don’t know how tonotdo anything.
While Mack and I eat breakfast together quite often, we make sure to not be predictable when it comes to locations. We do not want people to get used to seeing us in the same places all the damn time. Today, we’re having breakfast tacos from a food truck within walking distance of my home, since we seemed to have misplaced our vehicles. Okay, they’re not misplaced, but they are out of reach for now.
We climb into a rideshare to the parking lot where we left our rides when Mack gets a call and starts yammering on about lawyer stuff.
Blah. Blah. Blah.
His preoccupation, and the fact that I’m not driving, provides me the chance to look around the streets without worrying about running into anything. It really is beautiful this time of year. One of the things I love about us is our ability to throw ourselves into all holidays and festivities. We celebrate hard which is why these events are an extension of my job. It’s important to me to keep it all going. This is one of the reasons why I love it here. I live for this.
The unusual chill just may have it snow for Christmas. Nah, I don’t think it’s ever happened here. My smile stretches my face as I take in every decoration, store display, and charity Santa—sheer perfection—until we pass the Winters’ mansion where not one decoration is in sight. I ball my fist until my nails practically dig into my palms.
Fucking Espen Winters.
We fly by before I can ask to stop, but he’s on my list. He will be hearing from me again today.
* * *
I’ve had a ratherproductive day. We toured Main Street to ensure everything is exactly where it needs to be for the ceremony. I walk around the massive tree which is all decked out in the traditional green and red with gold highlighting different parts. My assistant, Maralee, has a keen eye for picking the perfect tree. It’s something I always assign to her, and she never disappoints me.
I look at her beaming with her reindeer beanie covering her chestnut curls and her candy cane dress. She’s worse than me, but I love it. Stretching my arms, I wiggle my fingers at her.
“Come on, bring it in.”
She squeals and power walks into my embrace. Maralee is a hugger and at eleven years my senior, she likes to hug often. I have whittled her down to celebration hugs only. She’s very chipper and likes her praises in hugs. Well, that’s after she tries to hook me up with a nephew, feed me if I’m working too long, or all of the other motherly things my mama is too far away to do. We video chat often, but they moved to the states so they can just be wealthy without the Voss stuff hanging over them. As someone from the states, she was not interested in the reputation marring my dad’s family name. She loves too hard to not want to blow up Fairhope behind another rumor. People think I can go off, they need to meet my mama. I’m not saying I’m difficult, but Maralee’s hugs are earned.
