Stuffed: A Thanksgiving Romance Read online

  "Isn't it a little late in the season for apples?" Amy asked in a somewhat condescending tone that had my mother's brow raising.

  "Sure is, dear. For Jonathan and Macintosh and all those usual varieties. But our orchard around here plants trees like Keener Seedling, Mattamusket, and Rockingham Reds. They all drop fruit from late September until late November most years."

  I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling, loving how my mother was always able to put people in their place without seeming malicious. It was a skill I always wished I could learn. But with a tongue that tended to get all tied up, it was never a possibility for me.

  "Alright, so we will take the Explorer with Amy, Cory, and Grandpa," my mother started. "But we don't have..."

  "I'll take Callie," Adam said immediately, making me stiffen.

  "Or I could go with Adam. We're friends after all," Amy suggested and, for once, I was almost okay with her not minding her own business. Being alone in a car with Adam sounded nerve-racking.

  "No, Amy dear, I need you to fill me in about your mother," my mother offered as Adam moved in beside me.

  "Ready?"

  "I, ah, I just need..." A Xanex. Or Paxil. Or a sudden stomach virus that forced me to stay home.

  "You won't need a book, Pip," he said, and I realized he was closer than I thought because his breath was warm on my ear, making my insides shiver a little in reaction. "But I grabbed this out of your father's study just in case," he said, pressing something into my hands. He moved to walk toward the front door as I looked down at the book, smiling a little.

  It was an old copy of Pippi Longstocking with the green background and two legs up in the air, each with different shoes and different socks on.

  "God, I hated that book," Amy said as she passed me, further muddying my view of her.

  So then I somewhat reluctantly followed everyone outside, finding Adam waiting beside his late model black BMW, the engine already turned over, heat cranked up to warm it up, no doubt. Him and his stupid thoughtfulness. And he was standing beside the passenger door, opening it up for me as I walked up. I ducked my head and slipped inside as he closed the door, reaching for the radio, finding some oldies station, and cranking it up slightly.

  He left it on as he slid in the car and then drove down the side street back toward the highway. But as soon as we hit that long, open road, he reached out and turned it down.

  "You know, I once sat and listened to you explain some Shakespearean conspiracy theory, with quoted passages, for about two hours. I swear you didn't stop for breath."

  I had totally done that. While, ninety-nine percent of the time, I struggled for conversation, if literature was the topic, I couldn't shut up. "If I remember correctly, it was for your English report in senior year," I said, defending my very long, rambling monologue.

  "My point is, Callie, you can talk to me, remember?"

  I could.

  That was true.

  Unlike my brother, he never cut me off when I was rambling or rushed me along while I was stammering or bumbling. He listened. And, what's more, he always seemed interested.

  "I don't really have much to say," I said with a shrug. It was true enough.

  "We haven't seen each other in six years and you don't have one thing you can tell me about?" he asked and I could feel his eyes on my profile as I looked out the windshield. "I know you spend a lot of time by yourself, with your books, but you have to have something to say."

  "What do you want to know?" I asked, never being great with small talk unless someone asked me things directly.

  "Where are you living?"

  I smiled at that, shaking my head. "A small apartment in an alright neighborhood."

  "Where'd you get that cat? I mean, not for nothing, Pip, but he seems to hate you."

  The vast majority of the time, that was true.

  "He was abandoned by his mother behind my work. His sibling had already died and it was winter and I couldn't leave him out there. I had to chase him for an hour until I could grab him. He scratched me up bad enough to need a couple stitches that night. The vet told me he would settle down eventually. That he was a feral kitten and feral kittens took time, but usually acclimated. And he did in some ways. He knows the sound of the pop top for his food and he's always used his litter box and he doesn't scratch all my stuff up. But he's not my biggest fan."

  "He likes Cory. And your father. And he climbed up on me this morning. He likes men."

  "Yeah," I agreed, shaking my head.

  "Is that because of your boyfriend?"

  "I don't have a boyfriend," I said, looking over at him.

  "Good to know. Maybe an ex then."

  "I doubt it. He hides under the couch on the rare occasion that someone is over. Enough about me," I said, shifting uncomfortably. "How has your life been?"

  "Good. Work, mostly. Cory and I go out sometimes. Fixing up my house."

  "Fixing up your house?" I interrupted. "Like... with hammers and nails and paint?"

  "Yeah, Pip, with hammers and nails and paint," he said, smiling out the windshield.

  "Since when are you into home improvement?"

  "Since I found a fixer-upper that I wanted to buy. It's been a bumpy road, I'll admit. My old man was handy," he said, shrugging off the memory quickly. "But I never paid that close of attention. And as much as your father has been like a step-father to me..."

  "He wouldn't know an Alan wrench from a chainsaw?" I suggested, laughing because it was true.

  He laughed too, the sound a low, rumbling, warm thing that made my insides go mushy. "You know what an Alan wrench is?"

  "I have put together more Ikea furniture than a newlywed couple on a budget. Having an Alan wrench in Ikea and the ability to understand instructions is the equivalent of being a master craftsman."

  He chuckled again as we pulled down the long, dirt path that led to the parking lot of the orchard. It was nowhere near as packed as it was during September and October, but there was a smattering of people who were obviously 'in the know' like my mother about apple variations.

  Adam parked and we climbed out to be handed reusable shopping bags by my mother who told us to fan out and get as many apples as we could, that she had plans for pies and sauce and who knew what else. So, thankful for the opportunity to go off on my own, I took off toward the rows of trees, weaving in and out until I couldn't even hear my family anymore before starting to look for fruit.

  I had about a third of my bag filled when I got the distinct impression I wasn't alone. I hadn't heard anyone, but the hairs on my arms and neck stood up and my belly felt wobbly. I turned slowly, an apple in my hand, to find Adam standing there, his bag already on the ground beside mine, his hands tucked into his pockets, making his shoulders square. His head was ducked to the side, watching me.

  "Avoiding me?" he asked, putting me on the spot where he damn well knew I hated to be.

  "Don't," I said, shaking my head, ducking to put the apple in the bag.

  "Don't what?" he asked, surprising me as I moved to stand by closing in on me, getting in my personal space. "Don't want to talk to you?" he asked, still advancing, making me go back two feet until the tree stopped me. "Don't be interested in what you have to say? Or, maybe," he said, his hand raising. I felt his fingertips glide over my cheekbone then down my neck as he tucked my hair behind my ear. "Don't give you something you've been thinking about since you were a teenager?" he asked, his hand moving backward to cup the back of my skull.

  His eyes got heated.

  His head lowered.

  And then his lips sealed over mine, seared into mine.

  Everything, time, space, my heart, my blood in my veins, my body... froze.

  I had spent endless hours fantasizing about what it would feel like to kiss him, before I had ever had anything to compare it to. And I was glad for the life experience right then.

  Because nothing, nothing had ever compared.

  Nothing was even in the same hemis
phere.

  His hand pulled me closer as his arm snaked around my hips, crushing my chest to his, our bodies molding together, my soft curves to his hard lines. A shiver worked its way through me until my whole body trembled once, making Adam's arms tighten as his lips pressed harder, demanded more from me. Demanded everything. And I gave it. My palms slid over the rough material covering his arms, crossing over his shoulders, my fingertips sifting up into his soft hair. His teeth nipped at my lower lip, dragging a quiet moan from my lips. His tongue slid inside to toy with mine, making me sway against him. A spark of desire shot down to my core, making my sex tighten almost painfully as his tongue retreated and his lips claimed mine again.

  A low, needy whimper escaped me and Adam released my lips suddenly, his rough stubble grazing over my cheek as his temple rested against mine, both of us struggling for breath.

  My lips tingled, feeling swollen and sensitive.

  I pressed my thighs together to try to ease the clawing, demanding need there as Adam's rough breath warmed the side of my face. My own air struggled out of my chest, making my body tremble slightly. His arms closed around me tighter, squeezing me for a long second before releasing me completely.

  The air hit my front, warm from Adam's body, somehow shocking the fog out of my brain.

  Adam kissed me.

  He kissed me.

  And it was nothing like I had expected.

  It was more.

  But, perhaps more so than that, a niggling little thought sprouted, grew, bloomed, until it choked out everything good around it.

  Don't give you something you've been thinking about since you were a teenager?

  Not only did he know that I had a major, life-altering crush on him as a teen, but he somehow knew that the feelings I thought were long buried could easily be brought to the surface again. Effortlessly, really on his part.

  On top of the startling realization that he had known all along the card I thought I kept close to my chest, there was the insecurity in the phrasing he used.

  Had he just been doing it because he knew he could? To see if he could get a reaction out of me? To screw with me?

  As much as I didn't want to think he was capable of that, I couldn't get over the way he said it.

  Why, if it was a genuine moment, wouldn't he say that it was something he had been thinking about doing? Why was it on me?

  "Adam, where did you run off to.. Oh," Amy said, stopping a yard behind Adam, looking at me. "Has Cal been chewing your ear off about one of her stories or something?" she asked, as my gaze went down to my feet. "Come on, Adam. I found a row full of some apple or other," she said, her voice sweet and persuasive.

  When I chanced a look up, their arms were locked as they walked away.

  I would like to say it looked like she was dragging him, but it didn't.

  Uncertainty, desire, and embarrassment were a heady cocktail, making me feel overheated and itchy and antsy to get the hell out of there. Deciding to trust my flight instinct, I grabbed my bag and followed the path back toward the front of the orchard where I deposited my bag with the cashier, telling her to hold it for my mother, and took off toward the parking lot where I threw myself into my parents' back seat, sinking down and trying not to think.

  That was, until my door got wrenched open.

  And there was Adam.

  SIX

  Callie

  "You're not doing this," he said, shaking his head at me.

  "I'm not doing anything," I lied. "I got all the apples they had in my row. I was done."

  "And you're in your parents car instead of mine because..."

  "I figured you and Amy would be heading out in the same car."

  "You're jealous," he said, smiling like he enjoyed that idea.

  "I am n..."

  "Yeah, you are," he said, climbing in the back and sitting down next to me, our knees brushing in the small space.

  "I don't know if you were aware of it, being so far ahead of us in school, but Amy made my life hell for years," I admitted. "I'm not jealous of her. I just... I know you're a good person and she, well..."

  "Callie, I'm not stupid," he said, smiling at me. "She's always been vein and vapid and desperate to have all the attention. But even if I didn't already know that, the way she outed your work issues over dinner last night was all the proof I would need that she's not a good person." He paused and I felt his hand land heavy on my thigh, squeezing. "I didn't know she teased you, Pip. And that sucks. But if she teased you, you have to know it was because she saw you as competition."

  A lovely snort escaped me at that as I rolled my eyes. "You saw me in high school, right? Baggy clothes? Glasses? Face buried in a book? I wasn't competition to anyone."

  "I saw you, Cal," he said, his arm raising, his finger stroking down the bridge of my nose. "Maybe you were trying to hide away from everyone and everything, but that didn't mean you were invisible. And you were always a threat to Amy and her pretty girl posse."

  "You're just saying..."

  "I'm saying you are, and have always been, gorgeous. And it's really a shame that you have never been able to see it because everyone else always has."

  "Adam, that's sweet," I started, still shaking my head. I would allow "girl next door pretty" if you looked past the glasses and bad fashion sense, but "gorgeous" was a gross exaggeration.

  "I saw it," he repeated again, ducking his head a little to catch my eyes. "I noticed. But you were too young, Pip."

  My heart seemed to freeze in my chest, a tight, crushing sensation as my belly did a flip-flop that was, at once, thrilling and scary. Was he saying what I thought he was saying?

  "Adam, what..."

  "I'm saying I was eighteen and you were fourteen and it was wrong for me to even think it. But I thought it."

  "Thought what?" I pressed, needing to hear the words. It was the only thing that could jumpstart my heart again.

  "I thought you were the prettiest girl I had ever seen. And, more than that, you were interesting. You know how rare that is to find in someone four years younger than you... at those ages? You blew all the other girls out of the water, Cal. But I was too old for you." His smile went sweet as his hand left my hip, tracing the neckline of my tank top. "Breathe," he reminded me, and I took a breath, feeling my insides get shaky. "So are you going to admit it or not?"

  "Admit what?" I asked, looking in those light green eyes of his and completely amazed that they had ever seen me as gorgeous.

  "Admit that you had a crazy crush on me as a teenager." My head went to duck, embarrassed for my former self, but his fingers reached out to snag my chin. "Nope. No hiding," he said, pulling my head back up.

  "I had a crazy crush on you as a teenager," I admitted, my stomach in knots for some silly reason. He already knew. It wasn't like it was news.

  "And that you were totally wondering what I looked like under that sheet last night."

  I felt my eyes bug as my cheeks heated. Caught. I was so caught. "Adam..."

  "Admit that and I will admit something too."

  That seemed like a fair trade. And, well, my curiosity was killing me. "I was wondering what you looked like under the sheet last night."

  To that, his eyes heated slightly and he leaned in close, his lips by my ear. "And I have been wondering for years what is under all these thick layers." His nose whispered up the side of my ear. "And what you would sound like moaning my name while I eat that sweet pussy of yours. Or what you would feel like, body under mine, cock deep inside you, while..."

  "There you are!" my mother's voice cut in, making Adam pull away while I tried really hard to ignore the pounding of my heart and the almost painful tightening of my sex. "What are you doing back there?" she asked, popping the trunk and hauling the apples inside.

  "My car must have been locked so Cal came to sit here. Come on," he said, reaching for my arm to pull me toward the door.

  And that was precisely when Amy moved into the doorway. "That's silly. She's ther
e now. Let her drive home with her parents. I will hitch a ride with you."

  Really, what could be said?

  There was no way for Adam to deny her.

  So he turned back to me, giving me a look that I swore said 'this isn't over', and climbed out to go back toward his car.

  I took a small amount of comfort in the fact that he bleeped the locks, but didn't open her door for her. That was a bit small and petty of me, but I liked that he didn't give her the same treatment he gave me.

  "What's with that look, Cal?" Cory asked, hopping in the back row with me.

  "What look?" I asked, trying to instantaneously lose said look that had to be a mix of awe, shock, desire, and disappointment.

  The rest of the day was filled with choices.

  The choices were which slightly uncomfortable conversation did I want to have- the work discussion with my mother... or the 'we have the hots for each other' discussion with Adam.

  I chose the former and offered to help my mother make pies for the next day, knowing she, being an amazing multi-tasking project manager, could likely handle not only the baking but all the cooking the next day by herself, but figuring she would like the chance to catch up with me.

  Several hours and a very long discussion about my future later, I went in to sit with my father and discuss books, a bit too aware of the sound of Cory and Adam in the other room.

  I went up to bed around nine which was entirely too early for me, but it had been a long day and I knew my mother would be up and cooking around five in the morning and I wanted to be able to get up and help her.

  I woke up to a finger tracing down the bridge of my nose. Still mostly asleep, I wrinkled up my nose at the sensation only to be shocked fully awake by a low, deep, male chuckle.

  "Easy," Adam's voice, quieter than usual, said, his hand landing on my arm and holding me down from shooting up in bed. "It's me."

  I blinked into the darkness, my heart a frantic beat in my chest from, at first, being startled awake then, increasingly, the realization that Adam was in my bed.