Snow Kissed

Chapter 5

I had evidently fallen asleep on his couch. That was apparent from my sore cheek and stiff neck.

As I opened my eyes, I felt flushed from the heat of the burning fire. Lying still, I listened to the cracking and popping of the hot pine but it was soon interrupted by a door being slammed shut, drafting a brisk breeze through the house. Followed suit was Ean, struggling with a sparse evergreen.

“Oh good, you're up.” He brought the tree to the left of the fireplace, “What do you think?”

“What the heck is that?” I stared at the five foot nothing, oddly shaped tree.

“Christmas tree.” I was starting to notice that Ean was an overly happy man with little worries. Coming to the conclusion that it was because he did not live in reality. How could one live in reality out in the middle of nowhere?

“I see that.”

He fixed it on the base. “Want to hold it straight for me while I tighten it in this thing?”

I blinked at him.

“It's not heavy,” he assured me.

I stared at his still happy face. “I guess.” Getting up slowly, I walked over, looking for a place to hold on to.

“Right here,” he wanted me to grab it where he was by the little trunk.

I reached out and caught his hand.

Ean chuckled with that same broad grin. “Amy, I need my hand.”

“Oh-oh yeah.” I let go, cringing as I touched the dwindling tree. “Do it fast.”

He slid under the thinly branched thing and started to twist something, grunting.

“Why don't you get one of those fake trees?”

“Why...” He huffed and grunted, “would I do that? There.” He got up as I still held the tree.

He lifted an eyebrow at me. “You can let it go now.”

Hoping it would not fall on me, I winced as I removed my hand.

“What do you think?” He stepped back to inspect it.

I soon realized after moments of silence, he was actually waiting for an answer. “It's great. Rustic.”

He laughed. “Rustic? I like rustic. I'll go get some lights and ornaments.” He disappeared down the adjacent hall and left me to wait for his return.

I sat back down and stared at the tree as I listened to him shuffling around in the back of the house. I noticed the large stack of wood now to the side of the fireplace, he'd obviously kept busy while I'd been passed out, appearing to enjoy mindless tasks.

He returned with one big box, “Christmas in a box.” Then dropped it near me on the ground, he ripped the tape off and opened it.

“I think I'll just supervise.” The Christmas spirit wasn't something that came easily to me.

“You don't want to help?”

“Not really,” I grumbled.

He pulled out some lights, “I don't think I can do this alone.” His deep voice made his demand almost enticing.

“I thought you were into that lone ranger thing,” I joked.

“Last year, Martha did it and the year before that--”

“That lady from the general store?” I interrupted.

“Yeah.”

He liked cougars? I mean, he was a good looking guy, but seriously, I would not have pegged for that.

“What?” He smiled, likely because of the weird face I was sporting.

“I just didn't think you were that type of guy - like into that stuff.” I stood and took the lights from him, realizing he needed help. He was still male, I reminded myself of that and lacked some flare of embellishment.

“What do you mean?”

“Martha.” I lifted my eyebrows.

“Oh!” He shook his head, almost laughing. “No, she's just a friend. More like a mother-figure. We used to be closer, but I've been away a lot. I usually go hunting with her husband. They have no family near. Their kids all live in the city.”

“Can't imagine why.”

“Don't worry," he assured, "I try to go for women more my age.”

“And how old is that, if you don't mind me asking?” I really couldn't seem to place his exact age, guessing late twenties.

“Thirty-two.” He shuffled through the Christmas box as I started to string the lights on the tree.

Well, he was a bit older than I thought, but not like it mattered much and I moved subjects after that, not needing things to get too personal.

“So, I'm asking this in desperation; Do you have any wine?”

He paused his fingers on a branch. “Wine?”

I nodded, coming to fix the light strand he was struggling with.

“Some red. You want it now?”

“Sure.” I shrugged, it was five o'clock. Almost.

Quickly, he skipped around the Christmas box and walked to the kitchen. Opening some cupboards and shuffling around.

“I don't drink much,” He told me, uncorking the bottle.

I really didn't get this guy. What did one do in the middle of nowhere!

He pulled out two glasses and poured.

Since I was a control freak, the lights would have to be perfect and so, I started my OCD on them. Wrapping and moving the lights around the feeble branches.

He brought over the alcohol, placing the glasses on the mantel nearby.

I kept to my task at hand. Even with my soreness, the pills he kept giving me made the decorating easier.

He went to help, pulling a cord.

“What are you doing!”

He let go quick, it was a reaction I was used to. “Helping?”

“No.” I shooed him away.

He chuckled and stepped back. “Aren’t vice presidents suppose to be team players?”

“Team players?” I echoed. “What planet are you from? I'm a boss.”

He sat down and pulled the ornament box towards him. “Boss, huh?” he echoed. “Does that translate in your whole life?” Somehow things had gotten personal again.

I snapped my head up from where I was crouched down, a branch whacking me in my face. “Oh!” I swatted it away and fell the short distance to my bottom.

Ean stared at me and started to laugh.

“Shut up!” I snapped at him.

“Are you alright?” Helping me sit up, he waited for confirmation to his question.

“Fine.” I grumbled and started on the tree again. “But what do you mean?”

“You seem to be the boss all the time. Do you ever take a break and let someone else be the boss?”

Was he insane? How would I get anywhere in life letting other people rule me?

“I manage fine,” I said.

He sat and leaned back in the couch. “Should relax once in awhile.”

I finished the lights, ignoring his suggestions. “Turn them on,” I barked.

He got up on command and plugged them into a near extension cord.

The white lights lit up and I stepped back. Huffing, I wasn't too happy with it and started to fix it in places.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect, Amy.”

“You started this,” I huffed between tweaking things.

He chuckled, “have at it.”

“Thank you.” I continued my task. “Can you pass me that wine?”

“Here.”

Stepping back suddenly, I turned, bumping right into his muscular chest.

“Whoa.” He tried to catch the wine glasses from spilling and accomplished one, but the other dumped all down his flannel and jeans.

“Sorry.” I stared at the dripping wine as it hit the floor.

He looked himself over, standing frozen in the red wine puddle.

As several moments passed, a smile budded my face and his shock amused me. I laughed at him, he was pathetically perfect in so many ways.

“Why are you laughing?”

I shook my head and took the un-spilled glass from him and dropped it to the fireplace mantel. Returning to him so I could undo the buttons of his stained shirt. “You're lucky the glass didn't break.”

He watched me, his expression hindering without my notice. “What are you doing?”

I was undressing him... “Oh.” I blinked a few times, unsure of myself.

His smile faded, but it was as his eyes were still doing so.

“Sorry.” My hands hovered over his chest and slowly started to drop to my sides, my eyes slipping away from his.

Frozen, just like he was in the puddle of wine, his index finger lifted my chin and his mouth crushed mine.

I momentarily protested and then didn't.

He leaned in and his mouth bit into mine with more strength. Tilting his head, his lips directed the way my mouth moved with his. That was different.

I dropped my hands to his flannel and balled the fabric in my palms. Realizing what I was doing, and that was kissing him. I was kissing a Bushman and I hadn't even had that much to drink!

He pulled back only centimeters. “Hmm.” Then he moved in again with an eager mouth.

I stepped back, though, not sure what to say or do.

Apparently getting my hint of being uncomfortable, he didn't pursue our actions further. “Sorry, Amy.”

My eyes widened and I kept quiet, my heart pounding and every inch of me indefinably confused.

Seven months. That was the number since I'd been with a man and how long it all of a sudden seemed.

Like a huge billboard filled with my abstinence and miserable love life lite up, I rethought over our situation.

“I'm sorry,” he repeated with sincerity and before he could stumble back, I grabbed him and planted my mouth back on his.