“Well, I haven’t done much yet. There are a lot of wheels in motion.” I hesitate, hoping he’ll appreciate my plea in the spirit it’s intended. “I could use your help. We’re one month short for the calendar. And if push comes to shove, I guess I can use a shot of one of the pups to make December. But…”
“But a firefighter here on loan for a few weeks would be the better option.”
Nodding, I give him an imploring smile.
“I don’t have to tell you how stubborn my boy has become. I’m sorry about that. There was a time you wouldn’t have had to ask. He would’ve already volunteered his help.” Calvin scratches his chin in contemplation. “Why don’t you take Jason a drink?” He stands from his recliner, heads to the refrigerator, and grabs two bottles of lemonade. “He’s been working hard on the farm all day. See if you might have any luck winning him over?”
Ugh. I was hopinghe’dwin him over. But desperate times call for desperate measures.
“You can drive over if you like. Just down the dirt path.”
“Oh, it’s a beautiful, warm evening. I’ll walk.”
Heading out the back door, I take in the gorgeous flower and vegetable gardens as I make my way toward the path below. As I round the greenhouse toward the water, where their lot abuts the farm, the pool area comes into view. And so does Jason.
All of him.
I stand motionless, as if my feet are superglued to the ground below. He’s gloriously naked. All tall, tan, and covered in ink, he stands in profile at the pool’s edge as if about the dive in. His pecs and abs are what I imagined they’d be. So is that rock hard ass. His cock, however, is beyond my expectations. Even soft, it hangs long and thick between his legs.
With my mouth hanging open, I rapidly concoct an escape plan while he’s underwater to avoid embarrassment. However, as I start to rotate toward the house, Jason slowly turns his head in my direction.
And winks.
* * *
The following morning, I revel in dreams of my little town decorated for Christmas, visiting the Bristow family Christmas tree farm to pick out the perfect Carolina Sapphire Cypress. Taylor Swift’s “Christmas Tree Farm” is the perfect backdrop to my fantasy. I hum as I drag my fingertips along the soft spikes of the available options, the scent of pine heavy in the air. Suddenly, Jason’s there offering to take the tree to my car. I beam as he winks down at me, his mouthwatering body on full display.
I spring up from my sheets, covered in sweat.
Holy Dickmas.
Snap out of this now, Quinn!
Chapter 14
Quinn
Sitting at my desk, fanning through the proofs Holly provided, I practically squeal in delight. My cheeks are sore from the strain of my ear-to-ear grin. These pictures turned out far better than I expected. If only the last month wasn’t still up in the air.
Darn Jason Bristow.
The first three firefighter shoots are complete, with three more scheduled for next week. If I can’t find a way to reason with him, I’ll have to settle for a hairy entry for Mr. December.And I don’t mean Baxter.
While no one else would complain, given the shelter will be a benefactor of the calendar’s proceeds, it’s still not ideal. A few months should be appealing. Layton, Tripp, Douglas, and Frank are easy on the eyes. Maybe we can alternate their photos with the more creative ones. But there’s no question Jason would have every woman in town standing in line to buy one.Heck, maybe a few men too.
Dragging my fingernail down my printout, I review the plans for the Bathtub Party Day festivities. I need to distribute tickets to the merchants to “sell ducks” for chances to win prizes. I quickly jot down to stop by the women’s club this week. I’m hoping to wrangle their help with decorations as well as Christmas desserts for the bake sale. Tapping my pen against my chin, I smile. This could be a great place for Callie to show off her cupcakes too. They’re likely to get top dollar.
Looking over the to-do list, I drop my face into my hands in complete overwhelm. Can I do really this? I lift my chin, and give myself a silent pep talk. Don’t go there, Quinn. Do not allow negativity to enter the equation. Even if there’s a lot left to arrange. Glancing down at each bulleted item, I realize I still need to confirm which merchants will be renting stalls in the Winter Village area of the festival, as well as verify plenty of concessions will be at the event.
A yawn escapes just as my belly rumbles in protest.Jeez, where did the time go?For now, my priorities are home, dinner, a long soak in the tub, and a good night’s sleep to clear my mind. Grabbing my things, I make my way to the car. As I start the ignition, Nat King Cole croons “Hark the Herald Angels Sing.” It’s been unusually warm for November here. Despite the winter holiday plans for the Bathtub Party Day festival, sometimes hearing Christmas music when it’s eighty degrees is just odd.
I’m almost home when I pass old Charlie Hummel’s house and notice the trolley parked at the end of his drive.Wow. I’d completely forgotten about that thing. Slowing down, I pull over long enough to take a really good look at it. It’s still in beautiful shape, with rustic red panels decorated in gold ornamentation and shiny brass fixtures. Oh, the many rides we took on that trolley each Christmas. As if my feet have a mind of their own, I get out and head to Charlie’s front steps.
The door swings wide and the same sweet man I remember comes into view. He’s about my height with bright white hair and whiskers, bringing an Albert Einstein vibe. “Well, hello, Quinn. I’d heard you’d graduated and returned to town. What a pleasure to see you.”
“Thanks, Charlie. It’s great to see you too. I saw the old trolley parked in your drive and got nostalgic. Any chance she still works?”
“I haven’t started her up in a while. You looking to rent her for a girls’ night on the town?” He chuckles.
