Page 53 of Peaches & Pistols

She’s so young.

I’m in a position of power—her employer and landlord.

She’s a role model for my daughter.

She’s healing from trauma and rebuilding her life.

She’s fucking married.

The reasons blur together until they’re indecipherable—drowned-out by the desire pounding through my veins.

Every heartbeat echoes one word.

Mine.

18

Are there drugs in peppermint bark? Because I think there might be drugs in peppermint bark. It’s the only explanation for why I’ve been euphoric for the past week. Have you ever had peppermint bark? Because I’d never tried it before this week, and it is D-I-V-I-N-E.

That decadent dark chocolate base layered with luscious white chocolate blended with crushed peppermints. It’s creamy, and crunchy—sweet, spicy and the perfect amount of bitter.

I never would’ve discovered the super-magic-powers of the peppermint bark, but after delighting over a piece at the ranch, Cecelia taught me how to make it.

I’ve never spent so much time working painstakingly over a double-boiler in my life. My complexion is barely holding on because the sugar is wrecking me, but the constant steam from the double boiler is saving me.

Every time I make a new batch, I intend on gifting it to someone, but one piece for me becomes five pieces for me, and then the container is empty.

The Christmas season is upon us and is by far the most joyous I’ve ever had. Celebrating wasn’t a priority of my parents, but Charlie and I liked it well enough. The cute parties at school, cheerful music, pretty decorations and string lights were always a highlight of the year.

The Christmas before Charlie died was the last happy holiday I had—Carter made sure of that. I couldn’t ever be fully present for Everly, despite desperately wanting to give her good memories.

With endless company Christmas parties, Carter’s expectations of me were on overdrive. The requirement to look a certain way, behave a certain way, and cook, bake, and wrap to his high standards.

Feeling safe with Greyson has allowed me to embrace the holiday season and go all out for Everly and Harper. His daughter may be accustomed to more cheer, but Everly’s never seen such a spectacle.

The evergreen trees around the ranch are decked out in string lights, mystical against the ever-present snow. Main Street is no different, with each storefront decorated for their holidays and beliefs.

The school gave the kids a lovely send-off for winter break; and having everyone home for two weeks is a gift in and of itself.

We’ve become a version of a family. The single father and his daughter, and the separated mother and her daughter. Or perhaps, Greyson just treats his employees like family. Perhaps, I’m just the nanny.

But it doesn’t feel like I’m just the nanny. If I was merely an employee, electricity wouldn’t zap between us when our eyes meet, or arms brush. If he was only my boss, I wouldn’t meticulously plan his favorite meals and go out of my way to please him. I’m here to care for his daughter, not him, after all.

Giggles tinkle from the living room where the girls are watching The Grinch for the umpteenth time as I put the final touches on my hair and makeup for Christmas dinner at Lucky Spurs Ranch.

Now that I’m not expected to dress to Carter’s exacting standards, I’ve come to enjoy dressing for myself. Once I succumbed to the peer pressure, Livy, Izzy, and Delilah made it their mission to dress me like their personal Barbie.

My closet at Greyson’s apartment is jam packed with hand-me-downs, gifted items, and key pieces I’ve splurged on for myself.

Despite their insistence of how gorgeous I look in this makeup or that, I’m happiest with some lengthening mascara and a swipe of tinted lip balm.

For the dinner tonight, I’ve chosen a pair of dark-wash, boot-cut jeans that fit me like a glove, a pair of cowboy boots the girls found that I “just had to have,” and a cloud-like ivory sweater.

I feel beautiful, more so than I ever have.

I’m applying an extra coat of lip balm, because the dry cold here is brutal, when Greyson’s voice raises outside my door.

“How many times do I have to say no? No, Olivia. This isn’t up for discussion. I don’t give a rat’s ass what she thinks. I’m done talking about this. Enjoy your Christmas Eve. We’re staying the night at the ranch if you stop by tomorrow.”