Free A Mess of Reason by A. Wilding Wells Page B

of the best
sunrise in the world. My “Tess birthday closet” is stuffed full of
shit for her. It’s like I’m on some kind of holy grail mission each
year when I hunt for her birthday presents. Usually by the time
November rolls around I’ve forgotten half the crap I got her.
    But this year is different. This year I went
all out with major spoilage. Once Tess decided to move back to Echo
Mountain, after lots of convincing from yours truly, I knew I had
to go for it. Tess is a bohemian babe, always has been. Obviously
you know what every bohemian needs, right? Yep. Their very own
gypsy caravan. It took the carpenter I hired six months to build
and trick this thing out, and when she sees it…well, too bad you
won’t be able to see her face, because I’ll tell you what. Priceless will not even come close. I’ve tucked all her
gifts around inside the caravan, a treasure hunt being right up her
alley. You think I’m gonna spoil her and not make her work for it
just a tiny bit? Please.
    All the lights are off at her ranch, and now
I’m wondering if I’ve been duped. Here I sit with my pickup truck
and this over-the-top gypsy caravan blinged out with birthday like
I’m entering the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. She has to be
here. Rox would have texted me if she went to the Devil’s Tongue.
Though I suppose it’s kind of an asshole move of me not to text Rox
and tell her what I’m doing. Shhh. Selfish of me, I know.
    I walk around the entire house like a creepy
Peeping Tom. Then I get to her bedroom and see one tiny candle
burning on her nightstand, and there she is. My heart breaks for
her because I can only imagine the day she’s had. It’s kind of déjà
vu from the other day when she was lying facedown on her bed in her
wedding dress. Only this time she’s lying facedown in a big
sweatshirt and the tiniest lace panties I’ve ever seen. Her ass is
as big as a seven year old’s and the panties barely cover it. All
around her are about a thousand crumpled tissues. I’m sure she’s
gone through two boxes of Kleenex today based on the blizzard
littering her bed.
    I stand outside of her window and send her a
text.
    How’s the party going birthday girl?
    Okay, she’s definitely not sleeping. Her
right arm slams down on her nightstand, then she rolls to face away
from me. Seconds later, a text comes in.
    Awesome!
    Oh. She’s good. Yeah, Tess, it really looks
awesome from here. Awesome mess. Awesome disaster. Awesome
liar.
    Where did you end up going?
    Creed flew us to L.A.—staying in this
friggin amazing penthouse that he filled with a thousand gardenias
and tons of presents, I’m in heaven. Wish you could see it!
    Liar. Liar. Liar. So full of shit. No
question, he forgot her birthday. Next time I’ll go a little deeper
and gut him—he’ll look great with entrails falling out of his
ass.
    Send me a selfie! I want to see your
beautiful birthday smile! I miss that face, this is the only
birthday I haven’t spent with u since we were 14 !
    Later, my cake is being cut and we’re having
champagne…it’s like nothing i’ve ever seen in my life…like wedding
cake fabulous!
    Trumps the Hostess mash-up huh?
    yeah, pretty much!
    That’s it. I’m going in. Time to get
tactical.
    I go in Blackhawk quiet, tiptoeing it all
the way down the hall until I get to her bedroom, where she is back
to her facedown woe-is-me position. I realize this is going to
scare the shit out of her, but… It’s her birthday: it’s this or
spankings. Hmmm?
    “You’ve always sucked at lying, Sass.” I’m
in her doorway, just leaning and waiting.
    “ Scout! Fuck! ”
    Well, we know she can move, and how. She’s
sitting up on her bed and the look on her face is one of, oh, I’d
call it terror. No, maybe mortification is more like it. I go to
her and sweep her into my arms, one hand under her ass—spanking
it—one behind her back, and yes, she’s crying. Of course she is.
It’s her birthday, he forgot it…and I’m