Free A Summit City Christmas by Ethan Day Page A

I could picture Del and Uncle Pete’s ashen faces staring silently back at my parents in shock—the spoonful of mashed potatoes slipping off Del’s spoon and making splat as it hit the table. I felt the smile forming at the thought. I’d be completely embarrassed but still, oddly amused. I was sick like that.
    Glancing back out across the snow covered tree tops and the valley below, I sucked down another mouthful of java and wondered how in the hell I’d managed to end up living in this particular picture-post card. I caught the answer to my question out of the corner of my eye as Wade walked into the kitchen. He looked like Christopher Reeves on steroids, with his wavy black hair and cheekbones to die for. I sighed in a swoon while he headed directly to the coffee pot, stumbling along like a zombie on a one-track mission for fresh brains. He was wearing nothing but a pair of sweat pants which hugged the lower half of his thick, muscled body in all the right ways. He paused to rub the sleep out of his eyes before pulling a mug out of the cabinet.
    The fact he was drinking coffee at all was the first clue my poor baby was a bit hung over today.
    Funny how quickly one hops off their high nutrition horse when desperation comes calling.
    “I never have a damn camera when I need one.”
    I watched as Wade mindlessly shoved a hand under the waistband of his sweats, scratching his hip. I’d thoroughly enjoyed the drunken sex we’d had the night before. It was an occasional little bonus, especially when I managed to not drink so much that I forgot all the details. Wade would inevitably lose control, forgetting himself just enough for things to get a bit rougher. I loved it when he got all man-handsy, enjoying the blessedly smoking hot results immensely. Not something I’d want every night, but waking up sore all over the next morning was incredible—like working out, but with orgasms. Being able to feel where his hands had been the night before made the pleasure last well into the following day.
    Wade jumped, startled once he noticed me standing on the other side of the window. He was trying not to spill his coffee. I could see a smile forming, though. He was always happy to see me, which was a nice change from my pre-Wade life.
    I laughed, watching him curse after burning his tongue on the coffee. He always did that, the man had to dive right into everything.
    “Why savor when you can devour?”
    I felt the glass door I was leaning against begin to vibrate and I knew the cause was neither earthquake nor avalanche, merely the thumping bass beat which was now shaking the entire house.
    Wade turned toward the back of the house and I laughed watching his lips moving as he’d no doubt begun mumbling curses. He was definitely disgusted, shaking his head as he turned back to look at me as if I were to blame.
    “The twins are awake.” I said to myself.
    Wade was less than pleased to see I was finding pleasure in his grumpiness. Taking one last gulp, I finished off the last of my creamy, chocolate and caramel-infused java jolt. My own witchy brew-a-go-go. Weaker men would’ve crumbled under the weight of my sugary, caffeinated concoction. It required the special training that only years of blatantly misusing coffee condiments could hope to prepare one for.
    Reaching for the door knob, I groaned my approval seeing my hunky boyfriend rearranging the goods currently wrapped up inside those dark grey jersey pants.
    I grunted, pushing the door open with my shoulder. The blast of warm air immediately created a tingling sensation over my entire face as I forced the door closed behind me before locking the deadbolt. I caught a whiff of what remained from the fire we had going the evening before.
    “I may never fully get used to this cold, you know.”
    Wade wasn’t distracted by my attempt to steer the conversation anywhere other than where he wanted. “Your friends are the rudest houseguests. No manners whatsoever.”
    I sighed,