The Redhead Revealed

“Yes, I’m sure,” I answered, kissing his fingers as they got closer to my lips.

“I can’t guarantee the press won’t figure this out. You ready for them to be camped outside your house?”

“What’s the difference? You’re there anyway. Who cares if you bring your shit over?” I smiled.

He sat back in his seat and ran his hands through his hair. He stared out the window, then looked back at me. His gaze was piercing.

“What are you thinking, George?”

“I’m thinking I was going to ask you the same thing, if I could move in with you,” he said.

“Are we insane?” I asked him.

“Totally and completely,” he answered, leaning in to capture my lips with his own. His mouth was warm and sweet, tasting of relish and mustard, and I couldn’t get enough. We kissed slowly and romantically, the glow of the Pink’s Hot Dogs neon sign in the distance.

And when we went home and walked inside, it felt good. We slept wrapped around each other in our bed.

Chapter 21

The day of our Christmas di

Jack slept in while I busied myself around the house. When he finally got up, he helped me as best he could. I assigned him to help me trim the Brussels sprouts, but instead he kept trying to throw them away when he thought I wasn’t looking. “Brussels sprouts, Grace, really? These are our friends. Why are you doing this to them?”

But I made Brussels sprouts so well that even people who never liked them asked me how I made them taste so good. I had mad Brussels skills. The Brit was not convinced. Finally, I sat him at the counter and put him in charge of dicing celery for the stuffing. He paid great attention to detail, making sure each dice was the same size as the sample I sliced for him. With him doing busywork, I had time to finish everything else.

Once I got enough stuff done that I felt like we could relax a little, we snuggled into the couch and watched retro specials, starting with Charlie Brown and ending with Rudolph. I pressed back against him on the couch, and we burritoed ourselves in a blanket. The rich scent of turkey wafted through the air, and it was incredibly cozy.

When it was T-minus two hours, I finally got up to take my shower. I repeatedly refused his attempts to get into the shower with me, as I knew we’d never make it out in time. I needed a utility shower today. Showers with Jack always turned recreational.

Ninety minutes later I was in the kitchen, begi

It was going to drive him mad all evening.

“Fucking hell, Grace. What are you wearing?” he asked, as his eyes took in everything.

“I wanted to get dressed up a little, that’s all,” I answered primly, twirling so my dress flared out.

He clenched his fists and bit down on his lower lip as he watched me. He came closer, and I pointed my hot pad at him.

“No, no, Sweet Nuts, after di

“Get in here, dillweed. I need help!” I yelled.

“What the fuck do you think I can do?” she asked as she entered. “I’m kitchen disabled,” she said, making her way to the martini shaker.

“Yes, I know this. But you can open cans. I’ve seen you do it. There are olives over there, and cranberry sauce, and they need to be on the table. Hop to it, missy. Jack will make you a drink,” I instructed.

She rolled her eyes, but she went for the cans. Jack walked back into the kitchen with Nick stuck next to him. His arms were looped through Jack’s, and he gazed at him adoringly. I laughed when I saw them, and Jack smiled down at Nick.

“Would you quit molesting my boyfriend and get your ass over here so I can hug you properly!” I squealed. He reluctantly let go of the Brit, then launched himself at me.

“Girl, I’ve missed you so much!” he said, and he picked me up, twirling me around the kitchen. Then he stepped back to admire my dress as I giggled. “This is nice. Very fifties-housewife-meets-porn-star. It works for you,” he said, sneaking an olive from the dish Holly wrestled with.

“Yes, it does,” Jack whispered in my ear as he snuck up behind me and put his arms around my waist. I sighed as he kissed the back of my neck and released me with a squeeze, off to make drinks for our guests.

I heard my phone ring, and as I was up to my elbows in gravy, I asked Holly to answer it. I heard her voice rise in excitement, and I looked curiously at her. She gave my address, and Jack and I shared a glance over Nick’s shoulder. Nick was now eating olives with no regard for whether anyone else wanted any. Jack finally took them away from him like you’d take something from a child.

Holly hung up the phone and turned to me. “Is it cool if we have one more for di

“I guess so, since it would seem you already invited someone. Who’s coming?”

“Um…Michael,” she answered, and glanced at Jack. He stiffened for a moment, but then relaxed. I looked at Holly, then back at Jack.

“Michael? Why is he in town?” I asked as Jack handed Holly her martini. He rubbed my shoulders reassuringly. I looked at him and he nodded. He was okay with this.

“I’m not sure. He didn’t say,” she answered, sipping her cocktail. “Jesus, Jack, this is great. Is there anything you’re not good at?”

“Nope,” I answered, winking devilishly at him.

He waggled his eyebrows back, and Nick sighed happily.

By the time I finished my gravy, Rebecca, followed quickly by Lane, had arrived. Rebecca greeted me coolly, but seemed to soften as she walked around the house, complimenting me on the festive decorations. Lane swept me into a fierce hug and kissed me on the cheek.

“Glad you’re back. I missed this sweet rack,” he said, openly staring down my dress. I saw Lane wink at Holly, then saw the blush creep into Holly’s face. She busied herself with the sweet potatoes, but Jack caught it too. I laughed when Lane pulled out his cigarettes and Jack immediately dragged him out back. Jack knew the rules: no smoking inside. He was already asserting himself as the man of the house—charming.

I began to carry the dishes out to the table, and Rebecca joined me.

“So, you back for good now?” she asked, setting down the Brussels sprouts, which had turned out great. She eyed me carefully as I smoothed my skirt and looked back at her.

“Yep, back for good…I know you’re still upset with me, Rebecca, but I’m glad you’re here tonight,” I said, turning back toward the kitchen.

“Grace?” she called, and I looked over my shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“He loves you so much. I’m glad you realized that. But if you ever hurt him again—” she started.

“Then you have my permission to kick my ass,” I finished.

She looked at me hard, then broke. “Shit, girl, like I need your permission.” She laughed, then went to grab the last few dishes.

I saw Jack smiling through the doorway to the patio, and I jiggled my boobies at him. He closed his eyes and dropped his head back. I giggled and was still laughing when I heard the doorbell. I answered it, and there was my friend. Michael. With flowers.