I look at her and say, “But isn’t Christmas usually red and green?”
In my peripheral vision, Ridley is shaking her head, as if I should abort this line of questioning immediately.
Bianca smiles indulgently at me. “This year’s theme is ice blue and metallics. Did you get the memo?”
In fact, I did get that memo on vellum paper with Rushmore Enterprises letterhead (not affiliated with Rushmore Hospitality Group, as footnoted on the bottom, as if I know what any of that is or give two shits about it.)
“Oh,” I say. “I thought that was more of a guideline than actual instructions.”
My dad pipes up. “Ridley, would you be so kind as to show Crosby the grounds of your beautiful home? He needs a break from all the”—Dad gestures with his thumbs like he’s playing a video game but ends up looking like a lunatic—“beep-boops.” His attempt to mimic video game sound effects adds to the overall effect.
Ridley stares at him vacantly, then looks to her mother. “So, Mother,” she says. “You said you fell in love with Neil the moment he told you he doesn’t own a TV?”
Bianca beams. I know her daughter is making fun of her but honestly the older woman looks happy. “Yes, Neil was leading us in a mind-blowing meditation that convinced me to get rid of all the TVs and computers in the house. He’s quite the adorable old-fashioned guy. Aren’t you, sweetie?”
Ridley raises an eyebrow. “That sounds about right. Makes sense, with you being a mommy blogger on the computer, and a person who was on some Real Housewives show that one season. On the television.”
Bianca shoots her daughter a well-practiced look that is sweet and syrupy with more than a hint of swift admonishment behind it. “I’ve rebranded myself to social media influencer, dear. Remember the big reveal party last year? Oh, that’s right. You and your little Greenbridge pals were getting high around the pool, so you probably blacked out the entire thing, didn’t you?”
Ridley shakes her head. “Not even remotely how weed works, Mother, but OK.”
I take this as my cue to step in.
“Dad, Bianca, I would love for Ridley to show me around the grounds. In fact, I think we should start right now.” Before I think twice, I place my hand on Ridley’s shoulder and say, “Show me the way to the library?”
She squints and says, “Hmm, I don’t think so. Come on, I’ll introduce you to Sassy.”
I don’t know who Sassy is, but I’m in. My feet follow her into the kitchen because I will follow this woman anywhere, and not just because of her gorgeous ass that wiggles at me when she walks. It’s also because I just have this overwhelming urge to be near her.
Once we reach the kitchen, Ridley opens a can of tuna, while I watch, curious. Then she heads straight for the French doors at the back and we step outside. I’m concerned because she doesn’t have on a coat, only a wrap, and it’s freezing outside.
“Sassy!” she calls out, making kissy noises in the air. At the far end of the wide stone patio is what looks like a dog house with a heat lamp inside. But what comes out of it is not a dog, but an orange cat who looks like she’s about to give birth.
As Ridley gives her the treat, the cat makes appreciative noises and twirls her tail around Ridley’s leg.
What I would give to be that cat’s tail right now.
“Nice tabby,” I say.
Ridley smiles but keeps her eyes on the orange cat, petting its head. “It’s not really mine. I found her by the side of the road and I took her in. Mother won’t allow animals inside, so I ordered a dog house to keep her warm outside. I would just bring Sassy into my room—not like my mom ever sets foot in there—but that woman can suss out an unwanted odor from miles away. But the vet assured me when I took her to get checked out that she would be fine as long as I gave her a warm place to sleep and have her babies.”
This is the end for me, and I’ve barely even started. Looking at Ridley is like having your breath stolen away by seeing the Mona Lisa in person for the first time, combined with getting punched in the gut.
“You’re amazing.” The words spill out before I can stop them. She rights herself and swirls to look at me, aghast at what I’ve just said.
“Am I?” she says.
?
?Y-… yes,” I say, my mind debating between retreating under the fierceness of her gaze and grabbing her and kissing her right there.
With a small mercy, she plays it off like it’s no big deal. “I just love strays, I guess. I think I’m one of those people who like animals better than people.”
I shrug and give her a million-watt smile and take a step closer. “I don’t know. You’re a pretty charming tour guide so far.”
She squints at me haughtily but can’t keep her eyes from landing on my mouth. She licks her lips and I feel my cock twitch inside my cargos.
“You want to kiss me, don’t you?” she says.