A Dye Hard Holiday (Curl Up and Dye Mysteries, #5) Page 8

  “Be right there, Dad,” Gabe replied. “But not before I do this.” He gave me a quick kiss full of passion and promise. “Let’s go find our perfect tree.”

  The sleigh ride was fun, the hot chocolate was delicious, and we found the most amazing tree for our family room. As nice as all of that was, my favorite part was when Gabe took off his coat to reveal a red-and-black-checked flannel shirt. He rolled up his sleeves and began chopping down the tree with the ax in smooth, steady swings. His big strong hands, and thick forearms made me shiver hard and sweat beneath the fur-lined flannel blanket.

  I finally understood the hype about lumbersexuals, and I was going to show him my wood at my earliest opportunity.

  DAMN, WHOSE BRIGHT IDEA was it to cut down the fucking tree and drag the fucker home? Oh, yeah. Mine. I was starting to get grumpy until I saw that familiar, but never old, gleam in Josh’s eyes that told me something I was doing turned him on. I was so getting lucky, even though I’d acted like a jerk. Because I wanted to please my husband, I really gave him a show. I put everything I had into my swings and went full-out Paul Bunyan on that bitch.

  “You might want to take it easy,” my dad called out. “You don’t want to throw your back out.”

  I scoffed of course because I was in the best shape of my… “Oh, fuck!” I dropped the ax to the ground, narrowly missing my toes on my right foot, when the mother of all spasms wracked my lower back. “Son of a bitch!”

  “Gabe!” my mother admonished. “The children.” She and Bertie placed their hands over Dylan and Destiny’s ears, which were covered with both a thick, knit hat and the hood of their snowsuits. They were a scarf away from looking like Randy from A Christmas Story. Even if they did hear through the multiple layers, those kids had heard far worse from the birds.

  “Hurts bad.” Damn me and all my showing off.

  Josh was there in a flash, his hands rubbing up and down my back. “Baby, what can I do?” I tried to stand up but another spasm wracked my body hard. It hurt so bad I thought I was going to puke.

  “I have muscle relaxers at home, son,” my dad said when he joined Josh and me. “I get spasms occasionally and they’re the very devil. Add in a hot shower and you’ll be just fine. Let me help you to the sleigh.” My dad was the only one big enough to support my weight. I threw my arm around his neck and leaned into him while Josh walked ahead to move everyone around so I could sit in the front row. I was pissy that I was missing my chance to grope him beneath the blanket in the back row of the sleigh.

  “We can’t leave without the tree,” I said between gritted teeth.

  “I’ll finish it,” he said. “You could’ve had that thing cut in two by now if you weren’t showing off for your man.” His chuckle rumbled from his chest. “I swear to God, you’re just like your old man. Flexing your muscles and carrying on.”

  “That obvious, huh?”

  “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s natural to strut your stuff like a banty rooster. Let’s make you as comfortable as we can, and I’ll push the tree the rest of the way over. ” His laughter echoed through the pines. I was glad he was having such a good laugh at my expense.

  “Baby, I’m sorry,” Josh said. At least my husband was sympathetic to my misery.

  “Why are you apologizing?” I asked. “I’m probably the one who jinxed this outing with my dickish behavior before we left.”

  “You were just worried about me, Gabe. Sure, you could’ve handled it better, but I always know your blustering comes from a place of love.”

  “That doesn’t make it o-o-ouch! Damn it!”

  “Hurry, Al,” Martina said. I expected my dad to already have the tree chopped down, but instead, he stood there posturing so my mom could get an eyeful. “Oh my!” she said.

  “Ewwww,” Josh and I said at the same time.

  Of course, mine started out “ewww” but ended with an “owww.”

  Our sleigh driver, coincidentally named Nick, tried to get us back as fast as he could while jostling me as little as possible, but it was pure misery.

  “Maybe we should take you to Urgent Care for X-rays,” Josh suggested.

  “Let me try taking one of my dad’s muscle relaxers first,” I told him, squeezing the hand he placed on my knee. I gasped as my muscles contracted and twitched painfully. “If that doesn’t help then we’ll go back out and leave the babies at home with our folks.”

  It sounded like a good idea, but Josh ended up driving us all straight to Urgent Care when the pain became too intolerable for me to take. It was the last way I wanted to spend a Friday evening with my family, but I worried that my dad’s pills wouldn’t be strong enough.

  Luckily, they got me back in an exam room quick instead of making me wait. I was sure it pissed off the people who were there before me, but I wasn’t there for a cough or sniffle. I was fucking dying and needed help, dammit. Josh and I left my parents in the waiting room with strict instructions to guard the babies from the icky germs floating around.

  I saw a physician’s assistant first who injected something amazing into my body. The relief was immediate as a drug-induced fog invaded my brain. “Sweet relieeeef,” I slurred.

  “The doctor will be in to see you in a minute,” the physician’s assistant said.

  “S-s-sounds gooood.” I tried giving him a thumbs-up, but my hand felt too heavy to lift. “Heeeey, babe, I wonder if this doctor has seen you nekkid too?”

  Men with lesser egos would be horrified that I made them sound like a lab coat banger. Not my Josh. “It’s not likely since the doctor on call is a woman,” he replied.

  “You’ve never seen any lady bits? You weren’t curious at all if maybe you like the pussy too?” Like the pussy too? Fuck, I was high.

  “Noooo,” Josh said, “but clearly you did.”

  “I couldn’t keep an erection and the poor girl was horrified. We both were,” I amended.

  “Um, hello. Mr. Roman-Wyatt?” a hesitant voice asked from the doorway. I hadn’t even heard her knock because Josh was laughing too loud.

  “I like cocks and I cannot lie.”

  “Okay, Savage,” Josh said patiently. “You’re going to be traumatized in the morning if you remember this conversation.” Josh turned to the young doctor who stood looking back and forth between us. “Hello, I’m—”

  “Josh Roman-Wyatt,” she said, cutting him off. “I recognize you from Channel Eleven. I love your series.” Then as if she remembered where we were, she extended her hand to Josh and then me. “I’m Doctor Tomlinson. What happened tonight, Mr. Roman-Wyatt?”

  “I tried to be a sexy lumberjack, a lumber sensual, or whatever they call it.”

  “Lumbersexual, dear, and you pulled it off spectacularly until you threw your back out.”

  “I feel”—yawn—“much better”—yawn—“now.”

  “I can see that,” Dr. Tomlinson said. “I’m going to write you a prescription for muscle relaxers. Would you like pain pills also?”

  “No,” I said adamantly. I hated taking anything stronger than Advil, but muscle relaxers were a must.

  “Okay,” Dr. Tomlinson said, “I’m going to recommend you see a chiropractor right away. If they’re not able to help you, they’ll refer you to an orthopedic doctor. Often, chiropractic care combined with massage therapy will correct the problem.”

  “My husband gives the best massages,” I said dreamily. “He has magic hands.”

  “That should go a long way to help you feel better,” Dr. Tomlinson said. I could tell she was doing her best to remain professional and not burst into laughter. “I hope your weekend gets better.”

  “Yeah, me too,” I said to her. “Take me home, Sunshine. I’m ready to finish trimming the tree so we can decorate it.”

  “I think we’ll have to save that for tomorrow,” Josh replied, tucking close to my side and supporting my weight the best he could.

  “I’m totally good to go all night long. You know that about me, Sunshine.”

  �
�Sure thing, tiger,” Josh said. I could tell he was mocking me, but I would show him. I’d have the most perfectly trimmed tree in its stand in no time and rock his world. Probably all before dinner!

  “Okay, I might need a little nap first.”

  Next thing I knew, I was waking up in our bed next to Josh. He was lounging on his back reading a book while wearing my flannel shirt that he left open to reveal a skimpy pair of black bikini briefs. I, on the other hand, was completely naked. My brain wasn’t the only thing waking up either.

  Josh turned his head and smiled at me. “Feel better? I got you in to see Dr. Minske in the morning. He’ll crack you back into place.”

  “How’d you know I was awake? I didn’t move or say anything.”

  “I could hear the blood rushing to your dick.” As if to test his theory, he reached beneath the blanket and wrapped his hand around my dick. “Yep, I knew it.”

  “I’m alive, naked, and you’re practically naked too. I’d be more concerned if I didn’t have a hard-on. Come over here.”

  Josh tossed his book aside and rolled over into my open arms. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “I still feel a little groggy and there’s a dull ache in my lower back, but thank fuck those evil spasms have subsided.”

  “Roll over onto your stomach. Let me see if I can do something about the dull ache.”

  I slid his hand down to my junk. “Baby, I guarantee you can cure all that ails me.”

  “We’ll get to that after I try to work some of the kinks out of your back. Go on, roll over.”

  Like I would refuse my husband’s hands on my body. I tucked my arms beneath my pillows and got comfortable while Josh straddled my thighs and rubbed oil into his hands. “That smells good. What is it?”

  “It’s a mixture of chamomile, marjoram, rosemary, and thyme. The chamomile helps reduce inflammation, the marjoram helps with aches, pains, and muscular cramping, rosemary helps ease the soreness, and thyme fights the fatigue in your body.” Josh pressed his hands to my lower back then leaned forward to press his lips to my ear. “Close your eyes and relax, love.”

  Relax? How about melt into a puddle of goo on his fancy sheets. “Mmmmm.” Josh expertly dug his thumbs into my back with the perfect amount of pressure. He worked the tight muscles to loosen them up then expanded out and up until the only thing not relaxed was my cock.

  “How’s that feel?” he asked.

  “Hurts,” I whined.

  “Still? Where?”

  I lightly bucked my legs and Josh moved his knees, allowing me to have a little more freedom. I spread my legs wider, giving him a view of my cock and balls. “Make it better.”

  Josh reached his slick hands between my legs and pulled my sac with firm, delicious pressure. “You like that?”

  “You know I do.”

  He continued to massage my sac with one hand while teasing my crack with the other. My pucker pulsed with anticipation when Josh circled it with a finger, but instead of pushing in like I wanted, he went back to trailing his finger from my taint to the top of my crack.

  “Stop being mean; I’m injured.”

  “I’m not being mean; I’m drawing out your pleasure.” Josh removed his hands from my body and I heard him open the cap to his oil bottle. I closed my eyes and imagined him drizzling the oil over his fingers to coat them well. My eyes jerked open when Josh drizzled the oil along my crack instead.

  “I want to feel you inside me. That’s what will make me feel better.”

  Josh drew out my torture slash pleasure by leisurely stretching me open for what seemed like eternity. “You’ll have to tell me if this gets uncomfortable.” He pulled his fingers out of my ass, and I felt the pressure of his cock at my entrance. With one quick thrust, he pushed in all the way to his root.

  “Mmmmmm,” was all I could manage. I loved the burn of penetration and knowing that Josh was as close to me as a person could get. It had been a while since he’d fucked me, and I needed a minute to adjust. Josh remained still until my breathing evened out then he moved like only he could. Slow, smooth and as naturally as when he danced for me. His hips circled and he stroked in and out, in and out, driving me out of my mind.

  “You feel so good, Gabe. I’m about to embarrass myself.”

  “Never,” I mumbled into my pillow. I loved knowing my body brought him so much pleasure. There had been times that I came before him, but I still took care of him. Just as I knew he would do the same for me.

  Josh’s hips snapped forward faster as he chased his orgasm and it was my name on his lips when he spilled inside me. “God, I need to do that more often.” I grinned at his love-drunk confession.

  Josh surprised me by rolling me to my back. I wanted him to spear himself on my cock, but he didn’t want to put pressure on my back. Instead, he fisted my slick cock and jacked me. His hooded eyes stayed locked on mine while he worked my cock until my body trembled hard and I came all over my stomach and his hand.

  “C’mere,” I said groggily.

  “Let me go get a warm washcloth for you,” Josh said, trying to avoid my grasp.

  “A little oil never hurt someone.” My eyelids felt like one of those dolls my cousin Sheila had. When you laid the doll down, its eyes automatically close. Sit the doll up, her creepy eyes opened. No matter how we tried, we could never get the doll to do the opposite of what it was designed to do. No amount of prying was going to keep my lids open either.

  Josh let out a resigned sigh. I heard the lamp click off and felt the bed shift as he cuddled up next to me. The warmth of his body acted as another catalyst to lull me to sleep, sort of like pouring gasoline on a fire.

  “What’s on your to-do list tomorrow, Clark?” he asked smartly. It took my sluggish brain a minute to figure out who Clark was. He was referring to the movie Christmas Vacation.

  “Rigging up the lights.”

  “Christ.”

  “Well, it is his season,” I smartly said just before sleep claimed me.

  I CRAZY LOVED MY job, that was never in doubt, but I couldn’t remember a time when I was happier to get back to work than the Tuesday after my Thanksgiving break. Hell, I had been tempted to go in on Monday to see if any walk-ins stopped by.

  “Wow, your dad and Gabe did a fantastic job on the Christmas lights here and at your house,” Mere said when she arrived at the salon. Like usual, we were the first to show up.

  My father decorated my childhood home every year as far back as I could recall, and I didn’t realize how much I missed his handiwork until I took over the duty. Of course, I decorated the salon for all major holidays and the four seasons, but I never had my dad’s knack for outdoor lighting. Luckily, he taught Gabe, who we all know has the patience of a saint. Gabe recovered quickly after his trip to the chiropractor and was a fast learner, which was the reason he could handle me so easily. In fact, he was usually one or two steps ahead of me. It took some time for me to get used to it, because I liked being in control and always know what lay in wait around the next corner.

  Learning to trust Gabe, allowed me to love him. Loving him gave me the confidence to let go of my ironclad control and have faith in him—us. I still occasionally fell back on my old routines when yoga, jogging, a spin on my pole, or Gabe’s, wasn’t enough to quash the anxiety building inside me. After the weekend I had, you could say that my anxiety was high alert level.

  Mere sat on the floor beside me in the stockroom. “You okay, baby?”

  “I will be, Mere. How about you? Are you feeling okay?” I blamed the excitement of the holiday, our parents’ big announcement, my arrest, and Gabe’s injury for the reason it took me so long to realize why she was keeping her news a secret. She was scared out of her mind. She’d once told me that Mama Richmond had several miscarriages before she delivered Mere and a few more afterward when she tried giving Mere a little brother or sister. When I had that aha moment at four o’clock in the morning, it took everything I had not to call her. Her need for slee
p was the thing that finally stopped me from dialing her number.

  “So far, so good.” It was the closest thing to a confession as I would get out of her, but that was okay. I didn’t need to hear the words.

  I laced our fingers together and lifted her hand to my mouth for a kiss. “I bought you some whole milk. I read that it’s good for you.” I couldn’t get back to sleep, so I read an article on what expectant moms need the first trimester. It had been a while since Meredith complained about “shark week” with other women on the staff or clients, but I was pretty sure she hadn’t hit that twelfth week mark yet.

  “Thank you so much.” Meredith burst into grateful tears like I’d presented her with the hope diamond.

  “Anything for you. We’re going to get through this together like we do everything.”

  “I love you,” she said through sniffles.

  “I love you too.”

  In the old days, Chaz would be the one to find us hanging out in the stockroom, but he was at home creating fictional worlds. I sure hoped he was joking about creating a series about a hair stylist. Who the hell would read that? Dare was the one who found us leaning against one another. My arm was around Mere’s shoulder and her head was pressed against my chest. Dare might have been a newer employee, but he knew my habits well.

  “Am I the reason you’re freaking out?” he asked me, his eyes pleading with me not to be angry. As if.

  “Not even close,” I told him. “Besides, the situation with Trent wasn’t your fault.”

  “Who’s Trent?” a deep voice asked just out of sight.

  Dare’s eyes rounded in surprise before he schooled his features into a neutral mask and looked over his shoulder. “It’s no one for you to worry about, Wren.”

  I didn’t have to see Wren’s face to know he was giving Dare his patented squinty-eyed glare. I expected to hear the music from High Noon playing as the two men squared off. It was funny to me that Dare was the only one who didn’t see how he tied Wren up in knots. I’m not talking a pretty little bow either, I’m talking a knot so complicated it would take months, if not longer, to untangle.