Tracey
I’m nervous about meeting Dak’s parents. I don’t know what he’s told them about me, how he’s explained our relationship. I’m not exactly sure we even know how to define our relationship. Beyond saying it was exclusive for as long as our sexcapades last, he’s never called me his girlfriend. I never used the word boyfriend when referring to him either. He made it more than clear he doesn’t do girlfriends, so I don’t want to send him running if I use the word.
It’s the reason why I didn’t initially accept his invitation to his parents’ cabin. We’re just friends. Fuck buddy friends. I didn’t think it was my place to impose on his family Thanksgiving. My parents weren’t coming up for the holiday and I had decided to stay at school and get some work done on the long weekend. Dak kept insisting he wasn’t going to leave me alone for four whole days, like it was an eternity.
I remained reluctant until he enticed me with his mom’s homemade sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce, and stuffing. It was an offer I couldn’t refuse.
“Just a heads up, my parents are going to be all over you,” Dak says, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead. It’s about a three-hour drive to Newry and the further west we go the higher the snow piles on the sides of the road get.
“What does that mean?”
“They’re pretty psyched I’m bringing a girl home. Especially my mom.” He chuckles. “And when they meet my girl, they’re going to flip out even more.”
His girl?
He slides his hand along my leg and a familiar jolt of pleasure stirs between my thighs.
“You’ve never brought a girl home before?” I’m surprised he never took Abbey home, but I don’t want to mention her name and get him thinking about all that again.
“Only in high school when I had parties at my house or something. Just a bunch of people. Never anyone special.”
Does that mean he thinks I’m someone special? He glances over and gives me the grin that makes me want to demand he pull over so I can straddle him right here in the car.
I’m thrilled he considers me a special enough friend to bring home to meet his family, but now I’m even more nervous I won’t live up to their expectations.
***
“Holy shit! This is not a cabin!”
When we pull up to the enormous structure, the ground to roof windows which cover the entire front of the home are glowing from the interior lights. Although there are wood logs and stone pillars between the gigantic windows, this is not the cozy log cabin I was expecting. This thing appears to be about seven thousand square feet and the type of “cabin” you find listed in the homes of the rich and famous registry. I’ve seen my fair share of estate-size houses both in the Hamptons and Newport, but when you’re expecting a ‘cabin’ this can be a little intimidating.
“Yeah it is. It’s made out of logs.”
“Yeah. Millions of them. It must’ve taken a whole forest to build this.”
Dak jumps out of the car and comes around to open my door. “Come on, Bambi. You’re going to love my parents. They’re awesome.” He opens the back door and gets our bags. “My sister’s kind of a pain in the ass. It’s a package deal though. Nothing I can do about her,” he adds with a smile.
When we get to the massive, double-arched wood doors, they swing open before we even knock. A petite woman with braids down to her waist flies out the door and throws her arms around Dak’s neck.
“My baby boy! Finally. I thought you would never get here.” It’s easy to see where Dak got his drop dead gorgeous looks. His mom has the same sun-streaked caramel color hair, intense blue eyes, and full lips.
“Mom,” Dak laughs, trying to get a word in as she showers his face with kisses, “I sent you a text when we left. We made it in exactly three hours, which is record time.” He struggles to hold on to our bags while his mom continues to squeeze him.
“Come on, Sea. How about you wait until the boy gets inside before you suffocate him? How do you do? I’m Dak’s dad, Steve.” He takes one of the bags from Dak and holds out his other hand to me.
Wait. I might need to revise that. Although the tall, handsome man in the doorway has raven black hair, except for the touches of gray around the temples—he has the same ocean blue eyes and gorgeous chiseled features as Dak. Now I see where Dak gets his impressive athletic body structure. His dad’s head almost skims the top of the doorway and he appears to be in great shape for a man of forty-something.
“Hi. I’m Tracey.” I shake his hand.
“Oh, Tracey. I’m so sorry.” His mom lets go of Dak and envelops me in a big hug and I notice her intoxicating scent. “I’m so happy you decided to spend Thanksgiving with us. I’m Season, Dak’s…” she stops midsentence and takes a big inhale and then holds me at arm’s length. “Eden’s Garden!” she exclaims.
“Yes. How did you know?”
“Aphrodisiac.” She grins and points to herself. “It drives Steven crazy.” She puts her arm around my shoulders while walking me into the house, leaving Dak and his dad on the porch. The delicious aromas filling the house are exactly what a holiday house should smell like: cinnamon, apples, cranberries.
“I’d say that’s…um…let me see, lemon, sweet orange, and a touch of coconut. Am I right?” Season says, focusing on my scent instead of the mouthwatering aromas of the house.
“Yes. That’s amazing. Sometimes I add a little pineapple. How did you guess with one sniff?”
“Oh I’m an Eden’s Garden girl from way back.” She winks. “It’s how I hooked Steven.”
“What the hell are they talking about, Dad?” Dak asks as he and his dad walk into the house behind us.
“I think they’re talking about essential oils.” His dad chuckles. “Your mom swears that’s how she got me to fall in love with her. Even though I keep telling her I was head over heels in love before I even got close enough to smell her damn oils.”
“Uh huh. Sure you were, Steven. Take the bags up to your room, Dakota. Your bed is big enough for two.” She winks at me again. “Tell me sweetheart, does your scent drive my baby boy crazy with lust?” Season keeps her arm around my shoulders as she walks me into the enormous open living room expanse of their home. I giggle at her question and can’t keep the pink blush from warming my face at her personal inquiry.
“Jesus Christ, Mom! Give me a break!” Dak shrieks from behind us.
“Oh stop it, Dakota. I can already see it all over you two. There’s no denying sexual magnetism.”
“Oh for fuck sakes, Mom!”
“Language, Dakota. Have a seat, Tracey.” Season directs me to the huge cream-colored, curved sectional sofa. “I’ll be right back. There’s some mulled cider on the stove.”
“What? You can talk about doing it but I can’t say the word out loud?” Dak shakes his head, protesting his mother’s comments.
“Only if it’s used in a romantic connotation, not in a vulgar one,” his mom says in a flippant tone and walks into the kitchen.
“Forget it, son,” his father calls out as Dak runs up the curved staircase with our bags. “You know your mom. There’s no filter when it comes to sex and love.” He smiles and sits in one of the matching recliner chairs in front of a floor to ceiling stone fireplace.
The firebox is so gigantic I could walk into it, and the burning logs are the size of small trees. I force my mouth from gaping open as I take in the rest of the room. The ceiling is crossed with hand-hewn trussed logs. The wide plank pine floors are buffed to a high gloss finish and the exposed logs, which make up some of the walls, match the natural cherry wood planks and logs across the ceiling. A shiny black grand piano takes up one corner of the room.
The house has an open layout. The large living room opens to a dining area, a game room, and the kitchen. The glass windows and doors which make up the whole back wall of the open layout look out over a patio with an outdoor fireplace and the nearby river.
The lights of the ski lift at Sunday River Resort are twinkling in the distance. Dak pointed it out to me on our drive in. He said their “cabin” sits at the foot of the mountain range, and if there’s time, he’ll take me snowboarding. I spent many winters on skis in Aspen, but never on a snowboard. Therefore, when I challenge him to a race it’ll be me on skis him on a board. Ever since I deked him, we’ve gotten into this habit of daring each other with challenges. Too bad it’s going to frustrate him again when I get to the bottom of the hill first if we get to race.
His mom comes from the kitchen with a tray full of steaming mugs of cider. “I added some spiced rum. I hope that’s okay,” she says, placing the tray on the round ottoman in front of the sofa. Actually, it’s more like a small table at about five feet across.
Dak comes back in the room and walks over to the fireplace. He picks up an iron tool from the rack on the mantel and pokes at the fire. He almost doesn’t get a chance to replace the poker before an absolutely breathtaking teenage girl comes running down the staircase and throws herself at him.
“Hey, doofus. You made it.” She has the same jet black hair as Dak’s dad. Wow. I’m assuming this is Dak’s sister and if so, their parents should have had lots more babies because the combination of their DNA made gorgeous offspring.
“Hey, brat.” Dak smiles, lifting her off the floor in a big hug.
“So this is the girlfriend. Hi, I’m Heaven, the big jerk’s sister,” she says, turning to me.
Girlfriend? Did Dak tell them I was his girlfriend?
“Trace, this is my pain in the ass sister I was telling you about.”
“Suck it, Dakota.” She grins while coming over to shake my hand.
“Steven, we have to do something about the language of these two hoodlums we’ve raised.” Season makes a faux tsking in disapproval sound, yet smiling at the antics of her children.
“Don’t look at me. You were the one who insisted on the ‘lenient parenting’ thing so they could become ‘strong, independent’ adults.” Steven laughs, air quoting around the words lenient parenting and strong and independent.
“You know you should’ve spanked me when I made bad choices.” Season sits on Steven’s lap, whispers something in his ear, and I could swear Dak’s dad growls.
“Jee-sus.” Both Dak and Heaven groan.
“Gross. Get. A. Room.” Heaven adds in disgust. I can’t keep from giggling, because I think it’s adorable how in love their parents are and how open they are about their feelings.
“Heaven. What a beautiful name,” I comment, trying to change the subject and alleviate Dak and Heaven’s obvious discomfort from their parents frisky open display.
“Heaven-ly.” Dak says, plopping down on the sofa next to me.
Heaven stomps her foot. “Shut the fuck up, Dakota!”
“Heaven!” her mom gasps.
“Excuse me? What’s happening right now?’ I’m confused about why Heaven is so angry Dak called her heavenly.
“Her full name is Heaven Lee Andersen.” Dak throws his head back and lets out a big snorting belly laugh.
“Dad, tell him to shut up.” Heaven crosses her arms over her chest and pouts.
“Sorry, sweetheart. Another bad choice I should’ve spanked your mom for, but she was in the throes of childbirth and she chose the moment to get me to promise to let her give you the name. Afterward I couldn’t—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. You couldn’t go back on a promise,” Heaven drawls in revulsion and flops down on the other recliner.
“It’s a beautiful name. Unique. Just like my beautiful, unique baby girl,” Season offers without apology.
I’m so glad I agreed to come with Dak. I’m in love with his family almost as much as I’m falling in love with him.