They slept late. Even so, Auggie was groggy -- possibly even a little hung over -- as she pulled out the ingredients she needed for the pie she was making. The whiskey she’d purchased yesterday was powerful stuff. When Auggie recalled all the various uses they’d found for it last night, she blushed.
Fortunately, she was alone. There was no one here to give her grief as the memories had her staring off blankly into space, a silver apple peeler clutched in her hand and a flush staining her cheeks.
If you would have told her a week ago that she’d be spending her Christmas with a gorgeous, sexy Irishman and that all she’d want for Christmas was his naked body fused to her own, she would have scoffed. Standing in the centre of her kitchen, though, Auggie had to admit she had nothing but lusty thoughts spinning between her ears. She had a strong need to make every single one of those fantasies reality before Josh flew home.
Her morning had started with a toe-curling orgasm -- courtesy of Josh’s never-fail lovemaking skills. Once the screaming of his name had stopped and her heartbeat had returned to normal speeds, she must have dozed off again, because the next thing Auggie remembered, Josh was bringing her a cup of steaming coffee, planting a kiss on her forehead, and then informing her he was heading out for a run.
He’d worn her out to the point that she couldn’t get her butt out from under the covers, but he needed to jog off his energy? Something was really wrong with that picture. Then again, it was a fine way to start off her Christmas Eve, warm and snuggly under covers that still faintly smelled of the man who only hours earlier had touched her in ways that had her screaming his name.
Yes, it had been a fine start to the day.
Now, though, it was two in the afternoon. So far, all she’d accomplished was washing her hair. It was time to stop daydreaming about sex and bake this frigging pie.
She’d be cheating a bit with the pie, anyway, since she’d purchased the pie crust ready made. Still, In Auggie’s opinion, homemade apple pie was as essential to Christmas as Santa Claus. So, here she was, rinsing and peeling the apples and dotting the crust with drops of butter, the apples with the tiniest sprinkle of lemon juice.
She fluted the edges of the pastry shells together over the filling and then simply stood there undecided a moment. Should she bake the thing now? Or should she save it for tomorrow where the smells of apple and spice could fill the house? When she caught herself wondering which Josh would prefer -- to come home today to a house smelling like freshly baked apple pie or to have the freshest desert possible tomorrow -- Auggie gave her head a shake and reached for the foil wrap.
Covering the pie, she found a spot in the refrigerator for the unbaked treat. With only a slight hesitation, she pulled out a new set of ingredients. If she was making Christmas cookies, it wasn’t because of him. It was what one did at this time of year.
So what if she hadn’t intended to? Why would she have baked cookies if she was going to be here alone? Since she wasn’t, she had the perfect excuse. Reason. She meant reason. She’d have someone to share the calories with. That was all.
It felt good to have someone to bake for, anyway. This was part of Christmas Auggie always enjoyed. Abandoned by her roommates, there’s been no need for Christmas baking or Christmas meals of any kind, really. Now, though part of her hated to admit it, Christmas had new life.
It didn’t take long to combine the ingredients for her famous gingerbread cookies. The dough would need thirty minutes to chill before it could be handled, so she used the time to blend together her grandmother’s shortbread recipe. Considering there were all of four ingredients in the dough, making the cookies took no time whatsoever. Baking them, though, would take her just enough time to have the gingerbread cut-outs ready to go.
She’d baked these same cookies what felt like thousands of times. The motions of sprinkling flour on the counter, centering the gingery dough and rolling it flat with the pin took no thought on her part whatsoever. Maybe that’s why, as she pressed her star-shaped cookie cutter into the dough, her mind wandered.
She’d never been to Ireland. Perhaps that was a bit strange, given its proximity to England. Still, she’d never made the trip. She had to admit, she felt some curiosity about the place.
Was it as green as everyone claimed? Had tensions calmed enough that a British accent -- no matter how faint hers had become -- would be accepted? Would his sister truly like her?
The thought startled her. It was almost as if she were actually considering going home with him.
Which she was not.
Was she?
The thought froze her in place, because she recognized what her heart was telling her. It wanted her to go.
Impossible.
Isla and Mellie needed her here. Especially right now, when things were changing for both of them.
If Isla was moving in with J.T., well, she’d be just down the road. That still worked. So, that would leave her and Mellie still holding down the fort here at the house.
Although, with Mellie, nothing was ever certain. Auggie loved Mellie to bits, but it didn’t take a genius to see that Mellie was more and more restless every day she was forced to cool her heels in one place. Should Melissa decide to move away from any reason, that just left Auggie.
She supposed she could take a holiday, travel with Josh for the New Year. She was entitled to a life, and it wasn’t even tax season, after all. The thing was, she’d be lying to herself if she thought Josh was just inviting her for a holiday. When a guy starts mentioning introducing you to family, he’s thinking about more than a vacation.
Which was crazy. Right? They’d known each other less than a week. She couldn’t be uprooting her entire life for a man who was really little more than a stranger.
Except, there was no way Josh could move here. That much was obvious. He had to be in Ireland with the business and all. And there wasn’t any way to get to know him better, to upgrade that practically-a-stranger status, if she wasn’t around him to really get to know the man. Which meant Ireland.
Auggie sighed, her shoulders rising and falling with the breath. She could go to Ireland with him if that’s what she chose to do. She just couldn’t stay. This, here, now, what they were doing over these holidays? That was something she could treasure for her future. The longer it continued, though, the more it would hurt when she inevitably had to say goodbye and let him go.
No, this was better. She’d put all her energy into treasuring this time they had over Christmas. When he left for home, she’d drive him to the airport, kiss him goodbye, and she’d let him go.
It was the best plan. Auggie knew that deep in her soul. The only plan that could work. Still, the thought was bittersweet, and as she pulled the batch of cookies out of the oven, the day felt a tad dimmer than it had moments earlier.
Bending over, she slipped the next tray of cookies in to bake. She’d only just shut the door and picked up her spatula when she heard the unmistakable sound of the front door opening, and the happy sound of a man whistling to himself. When that man entered the kitchen, wrapped his arms around her from behind and popped a chilly kiss on her cheek, all thought of best plans fled her mind.
“I smell dessert,” Josh said.
“I thought I’d make Christmas cookies for us,” Auggie answered, doing her best to ignore how right it felt to have him wrapping her in his embrace while she cooked goodies like a proper girlfriend.
“Nice,” he said, “But that’s not the smell I meant.” Placing his chilly nose against her neck he took a deep sniff, and everything inside her went berserk. “Mmm,” Josh murmured against her ear, “Dessert.”
“You’re freezing cold,” Auggie squeaked with a laugh.
She wanted to push him away. Correction, knew she should push him away. Not what she wanted, at all. That much was obvious by the way her body pressed itself deeper into his embrace and her head tilted sideways to allow him access to nuzzle her neck properly.
She felt his lips curl up into a grin against her neck and she swayed against him like a love-drunk puppy -- not a completely inaccurate description just then.
“I know a great way we could warm me up.”
With the spatula still in her hand, Auggie turned around to face him. She linked her arms behind his neck, spatula jutting out behind his head at an almost obscene angle.
Pressing herself against him, she took his lips and rubbed her own against them. Her tongue flicked out in an obvious request for entrance. It was a request he granted immediately, loving the way her tongue slid against his until he completely forgot that he’d been freezing cold only moments earlier.
When she pulled away, he made a noise that expressed his displeasure. His hands clutched at the back of the sweatshirt she wore and attempted to pull her back against his body. Laughing, Auggie planted her palm firmly in the centre of his chest, and she pushed him gently back.
“I’m making cookies.”
“I like cookies,” Josh said. “You know what else I like? Showering, naked, with you.”
He saw her throat convulse as she swallowed. For a moment, he thought he had her on board. Instead, her eyes narrowed, and she turned, then waved him away with that blasted spatula.
“Go.”
“You sure, fine thing?”
His hands slid down from her waist to stroke the curve of her butt, and he felt her still. She had a cookie halfway off the baking sheet, but with his hand on her ass, she got no further. For the span of a moment, she forgot all about her cookies. She could already feel the water of the shower on her skin. It took a huge effort, but she managed to clear her mind of the images his words had planted and go back to placing cookies on the cooling racks.
Josh laughed. “Alright, then. I’ll go if that’s what you’re wanting. But, you know where to find me.”
She didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. His laughter followed him out of the room, and Auggie felt the sound light a path through her as she took the last of the cookies from the tray.
If he’d any idea how much willpower it took her to resist his invitation, he’d most probably have hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her to the shower without delay. The thought made Auggie smile. It also made her blood heat.
She heard it when the shower jets came on, the rumble of water from the upstairs pipes upping the temptation she was feeling. Which was a first. Standing in her kitchen surrounded by the smells of melted butter and ginger and cinnamon, her mouth felt dry. An image of Josh, naked, under jets of water flashed in her mind and under the lace of her bra, her nipples pebbled.
Damn it, but the man had a hold on her thoughts. And double damn it -- she was going upstairs right this second. Who could resist him? A stronger woman than her, that much was for sure. She pulled the last tray of cookies out of the over, turned the heat off with a flick of a wrist, and was jogging by the time she hit the stairs.
They spent the day that way. Alternating between making love, making meals, making time together count. There was laughter, and the get-to-know-you kind of conversation new lovers shared. She told him about growing up an only child, and how meeting Isla and Melissa had been a life saver for a very lonely girl. He told her about being the eldest in a family of three, about his younger sister and brother, the niece and twin nephews his sister had added to the brood.
When they sampled her cookies, he did his best to check the smug laughter which wanted to spill out.
“Could have used a few more minutes cooking time,” he noted, then grunted when she elbowed him in the solar plexus.
“I don’t think you’re in any position to complain, considering,” Auggie said, voice tart.
That did make him smile. She most certainly had a point. And there’d be no complaints from him.
“Half-raw cookies are my new favourite,” he said, and earned himself a second elbowing.
So, he tackled her, claiming self-defence, and once she was pinned beneath him, all thoughts of cookies left his brain. Instead of kissing her – which, admittedly, was his first thought – he dug his fingers under her rib cage. He didn’t even try to hide that he was laughing as she screamed and bucked and shrieked underneath him while he tickled.
“You,” she said, patting down the hair which was standing straight on end from writhing along the sofa, “Are a dead man. When you least expect it, you will pay.”
He simply grinned at her with eyes sparkling in a challenge.
“Anytime, anywhere, Mo Cuishle,” he teased, “Though you’d better make it sooner rather than later if you truly won’t be joining me in Ireland.”
Auggie rolled her eyes, then surprised him by probing at the subject.
“Tell me about home.”
He turned his head and gave her a quick glance as if trying to get a read on the type of answer she wanted. Her face gave him no hints though. The expression she wore was open and relaxed. Anyway, she must have sensed he wasn’t certain how to respond, for she asked again.
“What would you be doing right now, for example. Christmas Eve? Do the McLoughlin’s have traditions?”
“Christmas Eve.” He thought a moment, a small smile warming his features. “Back home wouldn’t be so different than here. Except at McLoughlin’s we shut down and give the employees the two days off. At my residence, there’d be gift wrapping, sometimes even shopping, since I’m a busy man, of course.”
“Of course,” Auggie said, smiling. He returned the smile, but his eyes took on a far away look. Reaching for her, he wrapped his arms around her, adjusting their positions so he could hold her as he spoke. She curled into him, resting her head against his shoulder and feeling like for this one moment at least, all was right in the world.
“For the family, Christmas Eve is about preparing for the next day. It’s a day to relax before all the excitement. There’s Midnight Mass, of course. It is the day of the Lord’s birth, after all.
“Used to be, Cara and Thomas and I would all return to the castle after mass and spend the night in our old childhood rooms so the family could spend the full day together. There’d be an Ulster Fry for breakfast, and…”
“Ulster Fry?”
“Sure, you know, eggs and sausage and bacon, maybe even a little fried ham or the like. Plus, fried tomatoes and mushrooms and potatoes, with toast and beans and then, of course, black pudding.”
Auggie gaped at him.
“You eat all that for breakfast?”
In response, Josh simply grinned and continued.
“You can, too, when you come over there with me. Anyway, it’s a bit different now, as Cara has the children, so we sleep at our own homes so that St. Nick can find the stockings, you know. Which makes breakfast a bit delayed, as it were. But after we eat, we gather by the tree and the children fish out the gifts from under it so we can all be together when they’re opened.”
He smiled again and made a little sound that had Auggie making a realization.
“You miss them.”
“Oh, sure, I do.”
“They must miss you, too.”
He lifted a shoulder, the shrug causing Auggie’s cheek to rise and fall. “Right about now, they won’t be missing a thing. The wee one will be dead to the world. The others, well, they’ll see me soon enough. The gifts are there for them all to enjoy.”
“Christmas isn’t truly about the gifts, though.”
“It’s not, no. It’s about family.”
Auggie nodded, then pushed up so she could look into his face.
“I don’t understand, then. You could have flown in, negotiated, signed the contracts, and flown back immediately. You would have been tired, perhaps, but you could have been with them.”
“I could have, true enough,” Josh said, looking her in the eye and holding her gaze.
It was on the tip of his tongue to explain how important it was to him to get a true sense of the businesses which he worked with. McLoughlin’s was a family company. Where he could, he wanted to extend that to those representing them overseas. And then within minutes of meeting Augusta, he’d found himself fascinated. Now he was thinking about expanding family in an entirely different sense than he’d anticipated.
He wanted her. Not just for the few days they’d have here in Canada. He wanted her as his. For better, for worse. As far as he was concerned, he was spending his Christmas with family just as surely as if he were sacked out on the tartan sofa in his parent’s two-hundred-year-old home.
“I’m precisely where I want to be, Mo Cuishle.”
“Which means?”
He laughed, then shook his head and disentangled himself from her. Standing, he held out a hand. She took it immediately and allowed him to pull her from the sofa.
“Where are we going?”
“Mass. There must be a Cathedral somewhere nearby, surely.”
“It’s just down the street.” Auggie shook her head in surprise. “You want to go mass? While here? Aren’t you just a little concerned that after how we’ve spent our day, we might find ourselves struck by lightning, or… I don’t even know. But something.”
He grinned and pulled her in so he could kiss the top of her forehead.
“It’s the Lord’s birthday, fine thing. I’m willing to take my chances in order to honour Him. Are you not?”
“Humph.”
The look Auggie gave him was grudgingly impressed. If she only knew he’d never before cared enough to bring a woman with him to any church service, ever, he suspected the look would have morphed to suspicious panic quick enough.
“You are way too smooth with your words, aren’t you?”
“I’m Irish, lass. What else would you expect?”
Auggie rolled her eyes indulgently. It was clear she was amusing him, and she wouldn’t change his mind even if she wanted to try. Oddly, she found she didn’t, particularly. There was something rather comforting about the idea of attending mass with this man at Christmas. Something familiar and enduring, not that she planned to put words like that to it. So, she simply went up on her toes and kissed him quickly.
“Give me five minutes to change my clothes.”