Page 8 of The Naughty List
“What?” I say, a little too coldly.
“Can we talk?” She shuts the door behind her and walks toward me.
“Sure.” I sit down, waiting for her to apologize.
“You’ve been a little rude all day, and I hope you get in a better mood, Audrey.”
My jaw drops. “Me?” I cry.
“Yes. You disappeared all day, had to have Roger’s brother bring you home. Were you out drinking somewhere? Then you were late to dinner, and you didn't speak to anyone all evening.”
Unbelievable. I purse my lips and keep my eyes trained on the floor. I want to come out with everything I’m feeling, like how hypocritical it is to tell me to be polite when she’s the one who talks about me like I’m not there, dismisses my art as a hobby, and gets married without me even knowing.
Grant told me not to bite my tongue, but he doesn’t understand how hard it is to speak up around my mother. She is always right and no matter what comes out of my mouth, I have to be ready to defend it because she will argue with me. It’s the lawyer in her, and it’s exhausting. So I just stay quiet.
“Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. Can we please have a better day? We’re going to the Christmas Market, your favorite.”
It’s not my favorite. It's crowded and cold, but I don’t tell her that.
“Yes,” I mutter, just wanting her to leave.
“And I know Roger’s brother is a little rough around the edges, maybe a little too much of a bully, but he means well. Just be nice to him.”
I look up at her with a curious expression on my face. “He’s not a bully,” I correct her.
“The way he talked about you at dinner, like he knew you better than me was a little bit much.”
The irony has me nearly seeing stars. She is so clueless it’s a miracle she can even function at the point. It’s all because of Roger. He has her so lovestruck, it’s turned her into an idiot.
“Okay, sure,” I say, not even certain as to what I’m agreeing too, but I just want her to leave.
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” she says, rubbing my arm. I wish my mother and I could have a better relationship. I wish that when she looked at me, she saw me, the real me. But I’ve been keeping my mouth shut for too long and she’s been putting words in my mouth my whole life.
After the house quiets, and I can’t seem to make my mind shut off, I hear a door closing. It sounds like the front door, and my heart starts to hammer in my chest. The only person using the front door would be Grant since he’s sleeping in his RV. I don’t know if he was coming or going when I heard the door, but I intend on finding out.
The hallway is silent when I tiptoe out of my bedroom and toward the kitchen. The only light in the house is from the white lights of the Christmas tree in the living room, but with the open floor plan, it bathes the entire main living area in warm light.
As I step into the kitchen, I slam into a wall—a warm, soft wall that smells like pine and musk. I put up my hands and they land against the thermal long sleeve shirt that is stretched tight over his broad chest and shoulders.
“Whoa there,” he whispers.
I gaze up into his eyes, my hands still on his chest.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod, not knowing what to say, only that I want him to kiss me. I want to taste the minty toothpaste I can smell on his breath. I want to feel his beard against my face and how his large arms would embrace me if I were to lean into him.
Something above us catches my eye and I trail my sight upward to find the green ball of mistletoe hanging from the door frame.
Really, Christmas? How cheesy can you get?
Then again, his eyes trail up to see it too, and the space grows tense and quiet as I wait for his next move. He seems to be staring up at it as if he’s contemplating his next move. When he looks back down at me, I squeeze his shirt in my fingers and pull myself up on my toes to press my lips to his.
At first, he doesn’t move. Then his arms are around me, squeezing me tight to his body, and it’s as wonderful as I imagined it would be, like being swallowed up in a sexy blanket.
With our lips pressed together, we stay frozen like that for a moment before, on his next exhale, he licks his tongue against my lips and I open to let him in.
From there, things get blurry.