Vix

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I LOVE MY MOTHER.

I love my mother.

I love my mother.

I let my head fall back on my neck, repeating the mantra to myself as freezing rain pelts the windows and roof of my truck.

It’s four twenty-two and I’ve been sitting here for a half-hour waiting with a hard-on, and I have no idea how I’m going to get through talking and being close to her without proving beyond a shadow of a doubt I’m an idiot.

Even today, at Cedar Terrace, she would barely look at me and I could barely form words around her.

“Fuck.”  I grunt as I see the first low-beam headlights skirting the snow-covered dirt road that leads to the entry gate on the farm.  This time of year, the sun starts its decent around four pm, so already it’s dusk and that at least will help curb the possibility that she will see that I’m sporting an uncontrollable hard on.

I hear the rumble of a diesel engine and see her white Ford pickup approaching.  I know her truck because outside of the times I go to Cedar Terrace to visit my mother, I also go there to drive by and see if she’s there. 

I also drive by her apartment every fucking day.  I fight the urge, but I lose every time.  I’m surprised by now she’s hasn’t had a restraining order put out on me.

Not that it would matter.  No fucking piece of paper would make any difference to me.

This girl who looks like she belongs on the pages of Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition For Real Girls With Real Curves barely gives me the time of day.  I’ve kept an eye out for any other guys and I’ve not had any indication she’s got a boyfriend. 

She hangs out with another girl in town, sometimes, dark hair, cute.  They have coffee, go back to her apartment, things like that.  It’s been fucking difficult not to follow her twenty-four hours a day or slap a tracker on her car.

I’m losing my mind.

Now, thanks to my mother, I’ve got to go through the painful trial of proving she has no interest in me, instead of just assuming which would at least leave a sliver of doubt for me to hold onto like the Holy Grail.

I hop out of my truck as she pulls to a stop outside the gate and then wait while she shuts down her truck and jumps the two feet to the ground from the raised cab.

She gives me a half-hearted smile and a wave, and my stomach knots when I see she’s wearing the skirt and sweater from earlier—only this time it’s paired with an army jacket and knee-high black rubber boots.

The juxtaposition of her soft femininity with the practicality of the jacket and clunky boots only makes my heart beat faster and my dick get harder.

If the moment couldn’t get any worse, as I come around the gate I see her step onto a patch of ice. Her feet start to slide around as her arms fly outward flailing to find her balance.

“Oh shit.”  I grunt.

Without another thought, I stomp forward to grab her, but instead of steadying her I slide forward, my massive frame bumping into her shoulder like a linebacker and I send her flying onto her ass in a sloppy, snow-and-ice filled chuck hole in the road.

“Fuck.” I manage, reaching down to pull her up, heat radiating from me like a volcano ready to erupt.  “I—”  The power of speech eludes me as my hands slip under her arms and I jerk her onto her feet, practically launching her over my shoulder.

“Wow.”  She blurts.  “You’re going to put me into orbit.”

Calm down, you’re going to kill her.

“Sorry.”  The word catches in my throat and comes out as a croak.

The simple act of touching her for the first time has my mind spinning.  I do what I can to steady my breathing as vapor from my overheated breath fills the space between us.

“It’s okay.  My rear end needed a nice cold bath.”  She reaches around to brush some of the remaining snow and ice from her ass, making me wildly jealous of her hands.

I reach up and grip my forehead, pressing down hard on my temples.

“So, you wanna pick out a tree?”  I grit out, staring at the ground as my heart hammers in my chest.

Of course she does idiot that’s why she’s here.

She lets out an uncomfortable giggle and I drop my hand to see her pulling her lips to the side with one eyebrow arched.

“Yeah, but it’s not necessary...”  She turns to look back at her truck and throws her hand in that direction, pointing her finger.  “I really don’t need—”

As she leans as though she’s going to take a step in that direction, I bark out, “No.”

Her head snaps around and she licks her top lip, a flicker of confusion in those amazing hazel eyes.

“No?”  She repeats, furrowing her brow and I know it came out like a bark but it got her to stop moving in that direction. That’s all that matters.

“No.  I mean yes.”  Fuck this is either going to be the best or worst day of my life.  If I cannot figure out how to silence my inner caveman the latter is going to win.  “Yes, you’re here to pick out a tree. It’s what my mother wanted and I wouldn’t want her to find out I didn’t follow through.”

There you go, two whole sentences in a row.  Things are looking up.

She half shrugs.  “Okay.”  I swear I see a little twinkle in her silver green eyes and my cock jerks upward. “It’s getting dark though, we better hurry.”

“I have a flashlight. I want you to pick out the perfect tree.”

She stops when I say that, the color draining from her pink cheeks.

“What did you say?”

“I said I want you to find the perfect tree.”  I repeat as she studies me.

I see her swallow as she stuffs her hands into the front pockets on her fleece-lined army jacket.

She’s so soft, so feminine, but the truck, the boots, the jacket...they hint that there is this take-no-shit, take-care-of-myself-at-all-costs core inside her, and a possessive, protective fire is born inside of me.  I want to be the one to take care of her.

I want to be the one that takes the rough edges from her life and replaces them with soft sweaters and bubble baths.

She deserves that.  I only wish I could be the man worthy of giving it to her.

“Well, then lead the way.” She gives me a half smile and all I can think about is kissing those lips.  She flashes me that dimple and church bells are ringing in my head.

I step forward, heading back toward the gate.  “Here.” I grunt and point the way, turning around to make sure she’s following.

Looks like I’m back on single word replies.

As we pass my truck, I reach in the bed and pull out the small chainsaw we will need.

We walk in silence for a few minutes until we get to where the tree line starts.  Here on the perimeter, most of the trees are just her height, being newer plantings.  Toward the center of the farm, some of the trees now tower twenty feet or a little more, and five years ago one of our trees ended up in Rockefeller center—a source of pride for Mom and Dad.

Thankfully, the sleet has turned into fluffy balls of snow and all the winter precipitation is gathering on the tips of all the tree branches, making everything look like it’s carved from white crystal.

“These trees are beautiful.”  Every word sounds like a song that sings to my heart.  “They aren’t like any trees I’ve seen before.”

I glance to my right where she’s walking in step with me and see the wonderment in her eyes.

“They’re not.”  I snap, struggling with even the two words, my throat is so tight.

“They’re not what?”  She answers, screwing up her face, and I say a little prayer that I can stop making a complete ass of myself.

“I mean.” I swallow hard, giving myself an internal pep talk before continuing.  “They aren’t like any other trees.  As far as I know, they are the only Scottish Herald Conifers in the whole country.  My father brought them over from Scotland when he was a boy.  His parents settled here and started growing them.”

Pulling off her glove, she stops to reach out and grab a branch, then runs her fingers down the icy needles, drawing in a deep breath as she does.

“God, they’re soft.  And the smell.” She looks up into the falling snow and does this cute as fuck half turn, looking at the trees surrounding us.  “They don’t even smell like other Christmas trees.  It’s like, evergreen and something else.”  She tightens her face in consternation before her eyes go wide and a smile curves her lips, killing me with that dimple again. “It’s spicy, like nutmeg.  It smells like Christmas on crack.”

A rumble of laughter rolls around in my chest.

“I never thought of it like that, but yeah, I guess so.  They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”  I look up and around, melancholy filling me as I think about a year ago when I walked through this exact spot with my father.

Twenty-four hours later he was dead. Not a mile from here, I found his car on the side of the road. Trying to pry the door open to get him out, I broke two fingers so severely they had to be partially amputated.

The driver that sideswiped him hit a tree not ten minutes later, leaving him without a scratch. He blew nearly .03 on a breathalyzer, but the cops screwed up during the processing of the evidence and he eventually got off on a technicality. Lucky for him he lives in Florida, because if he was from around here, I don’t think he’d still be breathing.

As if she’s reading my mind, she looks down where my hand is hanging by my side, “That must have hurt. That happen cutting down a tree?”

I shake my head and look down at my fingers for a beat then reply, “Nope.  Just an accident, but not with this.” I raise the chainsaw and look over to see her sweet smile.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to get too personal.”

“It’s fine.”  I want to tell her more.  I want to tell her everything but nothing more comes and we move forward in silence just the crunch of the snow under our steps.

I’d never been much of a drinker, but now I have a special dark place in my heart for people that can’t handle their alcohol. In my book, anyone that has even a single drink, then drives, is a complete piece of shit

I watch with wonder as Eve looks around at the trees, the snow falling and sticking in her hair, on her eyelashes, melting on the tip of her nose.

She pulls a ungloved hand from her pocket and starts to zip the tiny rose gold locket that decorates the base of her neck on a delicate chain back and forth and I wonder who gave it to her. 

A flash of jealousy takes me at the thought.

“I like your necklace.  You do that a lot. Play with it like that.”

She shrugs on a half-smile.  “Yeah, I do. I try to stop, but it’s a habit.”

“From someone special?”  I dig.

“Yep.”  Another smile and her dimple is driving me crazy.  “My mom.  Year before she died she gave it to me for Christmas I’ve never taken it off.”  She gives a wistful glance at a tree and pauses reaching out like she wants to be sure we change the subject.

She runs her hands down the branches again, shaking her head. “They’re more than beautiful, they’re like silk. I don’t know how I’m going to pick.”  Her curved lips break into a full smile showing me her white teeth, and I fight the urge to grab her hair and pull her mouth to mine.

My next urge is to throw her to the ground and sink myself into her wet cunt.

I hope it’s wet at least.

Fuck, just thinking I could be making her wet has my own cum seeping out the tip of my painfully hard dick.

Just as my mind is running away with me, I hear her gasp and I turn to see her eyes locked onto something.  When I follow her gaze, I can see why she’s so mesmerized.  Right there, in a part of the grove I must have walked past a million times, is a tree that looks like it’s encased in diamonds.  I look back to her and she meets my eyes with amazement.

“That one.” She announces with a twinkle in her eyes.  She smiles and I want to be the one to make her do that for the rest of her life. 

I have no idea how one tree looks so different from all the others.  The ice refracts in the dim light of dusk as she speeds her steps forward, the snow crunching under those crazy black boots, then reaches forward and takes a branch in each hand as though it’s the most fragile of sculptures.

“That one it is.” I agree, hot on her heels as I drop to my knees and begin organizing the chainsaw in front of me.

It takes a considered effort to concentrate when I start up the chainsaw.  I’ve cut down hundreds of trees before, but this might as well be the first.

My hands are shaking and I hope to Christ I don’t take off another one of my fingers in the process.

A few minutes later, I’m tying up the branches and dragging the tree back toward where we are parked.  The mood has lightened between us and there’s a flicker of hope inside me. 

I don’t want this to end, but she hasn’t said a word since she found the tree and once again I’m hit with the reality that a girl like her would have no interest in a guy like me.

I’m all beard and flannel and she could easily crest the cover of any slick fashion magazine, although she wears hardly any make-up.  She doesn’t need any. 

“I bet you have an amazing tree in your house.”  She glances over at me.

“Not so much.” 

“Wow, why not?”

“Not a big fan of Christmas.”  I keep it short, not wanting to go into the details of how the holiday was ruined by a drunk driver.

“How can you own a Christmas tree farm and not be a fan of Christmas?”  She asks, narrowing an eye.  I stare forward and keep moving, wanting so badly to tell her but knowing it’s not the time or place. After a silent moment she continues.  “Well, that’s too bad.  I love Christmas.  It’s my favorite time of the year.”

I want to tell her it used to be mine too.  Our family has always worked hard.  My dad and I worked together in our stone business the rest of the year, then we took November and December off just to run the tree farm.  It was just the three of us most of the time, work was my life and I never carved out much time for anything else.

Christmas with my family and the trees and the decorations, with no other pressures to distract me, was the only time of year I truly relaxed.  I loved it, and now this year I hate it almost as much.

I can’t help stealing glances at her ass as she walks just in front of me.  Thoughts of how I’d love to push her face down into the mattress, order her ass-up-face-down, then sit back with a cup of coffee and admire her for hours before fucking her until the only word she remembers is my name.

We get to the gate and I set the tree in the snow, turning toward the back of my pickup to lower the tailgate so I can take it to her place.  She has a truck, and I could just as easily put it in the back of hers, but my mother said I would deliver it, so I’ll deliver it.

Christ, I want to deliver it.

“Oh.” She turns when I stop.  “You don’t have to deliver.” 

My heart drops.

“No, I want to. It’s big, you’ll need help—”  I see something cross her face, a discomfort of some kind and I stop, doubt casting its shadow over us again.

“It’s just.  I’m not going straight home.  I’m supposed to meet my girlfriend, Audrey.”

Fuck did I just hear that right?

Girlfriend.  I’m not her type.  I’m not packing the right chromosomes.

Jesus, I’m so fucking turned on, but also heartbroken at the possibility.  My dick doesn’t know what to do.

It’s the nightmare before Christmas.

“Okay.”  I grunt out, dragging the tree to the back of her pickup and lifting it inside.

If she had said she was meeting a boyfriend, I could have handled that.  Because, I would find him and make sure he understood things had changed.  She may not want me, but fuck if I could keep breathing knowing someone else was touching her.

Touching what’s mine.

Stop. It’s not going to happen.

Jesus, a girlfriend? That’s not something even brute force can overcome then it dawns on me.

The girl I see her with. I thought she looked a little familiar but her hair used to be long and she dresses different but it’s Audrey Simpson. She’s the daughter of some friends of my parents and now I remember some mention of her liking girls. It was a momentary comment one year when my mother was going through her stage where she was trying to set me up with any available female. Her parents were here to buy their tree and let my mom know I was not Audrey’s type.

Standing here now it all comes back in crystal clarity.

Eve is playing for other team and my heart just shattered into a thousand pieces.

“You’re all set.”  I finish loading the tree and close her tailgate, looking over to see her gazing around at the forest as the snow comes down harder.

“Okay. Thank you.  How much do I owe you?”  She steps toward the driver’s door and I hold up a hand.

“Nothing. My mother wouldn’t hear of you paying and neither will I.  Consider it our family’s gift for your kindness and work with her this past year. You have no idea how comforting it is to know she’s somewhere that has someone like you who cares about her the way you do.  Thank you.”

The words come out in a long stream and I surprise myself at my eloquence.

Maybe it’s the pressure being off, knowing it’s not that she just doesn’t like me, she doesn’t like anyone with the dangly bits between their legs.

The thought still feels like a frozen knife in my chest.  Explains why she barely looks or speaks to me.  At Cedar Terrace she’s all business, and if she takes care of my mom and I still get to admire her from afar, in my heart I’ll try to live with that.

Not sure how, but I’m going to take it a minute at a time. I’ve been a damn good boy this year, maybe I’ll appeal to Santa and see if he can work some Christmas magic.

“Well, thanks again, Chris.”  She finishes and holds out her hand for me to shake.  “Or Christopher?”

“You bet.”  I reach out and take her gesture.  “Most people call me Vix.”

The softness of her skin in my palm makes my heart race and my never-say-die hard on for her stays firmly in place.  A shockwave travels up my arm and lands directly in the new empty place where my heart used to be.

I swear she takes a look at my crotch, but then I realize she’s more than likely just trying to avoid meeting my eyes as she’s done every time I’ve come this close to her.

The snow is mixing with ice again and as she reaches up and opens the door of her pickup I add, “You have your phone with you, right?”

She squints one eye my way and on a crooked smiles answers, “Yes, but it’s dead.  I’m not much of a phone girl and I left the charger at home this morning. No phones allowed while we’re on shift anyway.  I’ll be okay. I think they’re distracting anyway, especially when you’re driving.  Don’t you think?  People spend too much time with their noses in their phones. Generations before us did just fine without them.”

She reaches up to pull her tiny body into the high cab of the truck, and just watching her lift herself up, with the way her ass sticks out as she does, makes me close my eyes on a deep breath.

She’s not wearing the white stockings she had on earlier at Cedar Terrace and as she glides into the seat of the truck, the hem of her skirt slides half way up her thigh, exposing milky white flesh, and for a moment I think I’m going to have a seizure.

Steady boy.

“Wait.”  I walk forward, reaching into my back pocket and pulling out my phone.  “Take mine.  I’ll get it from you tomorrow when I visit my mom.  I’ll feel better knowing you have a phone, driving in this weather.”

She looks down as I hold the phone upward for her to take.

“Are you sure?  I mean, it’s your phone.”

“I’m sure.  There’s no lock code. Feel free to poke around. Not much interesting there to see.”

A look of confusion crosses her face, but she takes the phone from me.

“Thanks.  I mean, I really shouldn’t—”

“But you’re going to.”  I cut off her protest because if something happened and she didn’t have a phone I would never forgive myself.  “If anything happens, call me.  Under the contacts just call ‘Dad’.  I keep his old phone at the house.  I’ll plug it in when I get back there.  It’s nothing more than making sure you get where you’re going. Okay? Nothing more.”  I don’t know why I add that last part, something tells me I don’t want her to feel some man pressure coming from me.

But my need to protect her and care for her still simmers in my gut.

“Okay then.”  She nods and there’s that smile again, and a joy and sadness engulf me. “See you tomorrow.”  She turns on a soft wave and closes the door, starts up the truck and slowly pulls away from me, my heart barely beating in my chest.