Kissmas Wishes (Love In All Seasons 3)

“That’s what the mountain is called?”

Everett nods. “Sure is. Didn’t you see all those boughs of mistletoe up there? The mistletoe grafted on all sorts of pine trees up there. It’s a real special place.”

I consider Everett, I swear he knows everything. Cooking and hunting and making homemade soap. He is the modern Renaissance man.

I feel very honored to be here with him at all.

“You can tell your readers you met me. In fact, you can tell them I trimmed your tree.”

“I don’t think you’ve finished the tree quite yet, Evie. Gotta put a star on top, don’t you?” He grins, then takes a swig of his beer, and I do too. “Tell me, what would you have done tonight if you hadn’t ever gotten lost?”

I set down my beer thinking about how to answer. I have the distinct feeling that Everett is going to judge the way I spend my days and nights harshly... and I’m not quite sure that I want to ruin what we have found.

“I don’t know if I want to tell you.”

“Oh, you’re gonna tell me all right,” he says. “Honest, how bad is it?”

I groan, “Well I’d have worked all afternoon, making the wreaths for my neighbors. Yes, I may be a party girl, but I’m a nice one. Besides, these wreaths need to be made so I can write a blog post about them. Then around ten or so, I was going to go to an ugly Christmas sweater party. The plan was to go to this party, get sloppy drunk on cheap shots. Probably annoy my friends by wanting to stay longer than everyone else.”

“And tomorrow?”

I smirk. “Tomorrow I’d wake up totally hungover and then meet some other friends for brunch, where we would drink Bloody Marys until late afternoon at which point I’d need to find decent clothing to wear so I could go to my sister’s for Christmas Eve dinner.”

I talk fast, thinking if I just put it out there, told Everett exactly what kind of woman I am, he could take it or leave it. No use tiptoeing around the truth. Hell, I have a distinct advantage here. I’ve seen his home, been in his bedroom and bathroom and have seen how he lives.

He doesn’t know much about me. Besides the fact he likes my breasts and my ass ... and my pussy. Besides the fact I make him laugh and he knows I can make a mean paper snowflake.

“Do you ever sleep?” he asks.

“That’s it? You’re asking about my sleep patterns?” I shrug. “Yes, Everett. I sleep. Probably too much actually. My working at home gig means pajamas and naps. And lots of them.”

“I work from home too.”

I twist my lips, realizing our work at home habits are very different.

“Okay, tell me, what does a day in the life of Everett look like? I’m guessing you don’t wear pajamas until dinner time.”

“Uh, no. At five a.m. I’m out most mornings feeding the goats, pigs, and chickens. Then I’ve gotta muck out their stalls. Check the traps I’ve laid in the woods. After I do that I have some morning coffee, maybe pull out my laptop, because even though I don’t have Wi-Fi and cell service, I do write on a computer.

“I make a few notes about the morning before heading out for a long walk. Most of the year there is a lot of work to be done outside. Working in the garden, mostly, and that gives me enough exercise. But in the winter things are quieter. Slower. So, I make sure to go on a long walk every day.”

I must be looking at him funny because he asks me why my eyes are raised. “No reason. I’m just listening. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever met another person like you.”

“Likewise.”

Not knowing if that’s a compliment or not, I take his chili bowl and mine to the sink and rinse them out. Our beer bottles are drained, and I reach for two more in the refrigerator.

“So what do you do after you take that long walk?” I ask, handing him a beer.

“I read. Work on anything that needs to be done in the kitchen. Check the solar panels, make sure they’re in working order. I work on house projects, like that soap and shampoo. That’s the sort of thing I do in the winter.”

“Your life seems really slow. Really quiet.”

“Quiet for sure, but it’s busy. I can’t take anything for granted when I have to do everything on my own.”

“Is it ever lonely, Everett?” He looks away then, as if not wanting our eyes to me. And I realize I’ve struck a nerve.

I stand up again grabbing our dishes to wash now, moving my hips a little more than necessary I add, “You know, Everett, you won’t be lonely tonight.”