Page 31 of Changing Lanes

I open the door to my parents’ home, looking around for a living soul. My mother descends the stairs to greet us. “Hello, Mother.”

“Torrie, you look beautiful, sweetheart,” she says as she leans in for an air kiss.

“Brannon, ever so striking.” Her hands lay on his biceps, and she squeezes. I swear my mother has the hots for my man.

“Greta, as always, a pleasure seeing you. Torrie is so much like you. I sometimes forget you’re her mother and not her sister.” He’s such a smooth talker. It’s that southern swoon factor.

“Be still my heart. Now, let me show you to your rooms.” She waves her hand in front of us.

Brannon carries our bags upstairs, setting mine inside my room before walking over to his. He appears calm, but I’m nervous. Asking him to come back may prove to be more of a testament to him as a person than I first thought. My father won’t make it easy.

Later in the afternoon, we take a walk along the grounds of my parents’ home, like we did at Thanksgiving. Snow flurries blanket the grass with a light coating, making our stroll more of a struggle for warmth. Hand in hand, we spend the time talking about our thoughts on our future.

“So, if your father decides to tolerate me, can we come back around my birthday? I’d love to go sightseeing.” His nervous smile is as broad as his shoulders.

Returning the same smile, I don’t let on about having it planned already. “That’s a great idea. You’ll love Times Square.”

“Why do you think that, because I’m a square?” He chuckles as he knocks into me. “Get it? I’m a square.”

“No, you’re not.” My eyes flicker to his. “Maybe. More like a dork instead of a square. It’s just the one thing everyone comes to see. We’ll do lunch at Tavern on the Green, it’s the most quintessential tourism spot.” He smiles as I talk, his face softening as his mouth relaxes into a warm smile. “What?” Tilting my head, I study his face.

“You. I’m beginning to think I might want to keep you around.” Stopping, he pulls his hand from mine to wrap me in his arms.

“Oh, really? I happen to be thinking the same thing about you.” Placing my lips on his, it’s a subtle kiss. My pulse speeds from the contact of his warm lips.

“I know we still have a few days before Christmas, but I want to give you this now.” He pulls a small black box from his coat pocket, and my heart skips a beat. No, not that small. “The colors are brilliant, and the blue matches your eyes.”

Taking the box in my hand, I open it slowly to reveal a necklace. “It’s beautiful.” I pull it from the case as he takes the box.

“It’s a Fire Opal sea turtle. Little known fact, I adore sea turtles. No laughing,” he explains, placing it around my neck. “The blues are the depths of your eyes as the greens are your soul. Breathtaking,” he whispers in my ear.

Turning in his arms, I lock my hands around his neck. “Thank you, I’ll cherish it forever.”

His lips crash to mine with fervent need as we allow ourselves this time alone. No one else in the world matters, a moment in time standing still. Burning this memory into my mind forever, I relish in all that is Brannon O’Hurley.

We amble the path to the main house slowly, unwilling to return but know we must. Again, we remain holding hands, as if it were our life preserver. Shivering, we pick up our pace as the snow begins coming down a little heavier now.

Back at the house, we part long enough to dress for dinner. I hate this, and I’m beginning to wish we hadn’t come. I dread what my father may say or worse, do to us. He’s hell bent on Brannon not being around, but I’m hell bent on keeping him. Guarded, I leave my room to find Brannon waiting for me.

Standing by the stairs, his hands in his pockets as he watches the snow fall outside. He’s wearing all black with a slim, black silk tie. I can’t find fault with this, but can my father? He glances back once he hears my heels tapping against the marble floor. It’s his double take which brings a smile to my face.

My green satin skirt falls just above my knee with chiffon underneath to make it full. A long sleeve black lace shirt with an open back goes well with the strappy emerald heels, giving the set a Christmas feel without being overdone. Opting for diamond studs, I match my necklace as close as possible.

His eyes leave mine, only to run roughly over my body. I feel as though his hands have been all over me by the time he reaches my gaze again. Brannon’s hazel eyes burn, making the all too familiar pull deep in my core, eliciting my response of biting my lip. He’s having none of that.

Taking my hand, he yanks me to him, placing his hand on the small of my back. Warm and rough, the command he shows makes me weak in the knees. He presses me to his hard, broad chest when his lips brush my ear.

“You. Are. Enough. Devine, goddess you are.” Running his nose along my jaw, he finds my lips quickly.

Opening to his demand, I melt into him. Our tongues in a slow dance of sensual desire, our right hands are laced, our bodies forming a bond. Frenzied desire soon flashes bright between us as we fight to stay in the moment.

Footsteps on the stairway give us our reason to stop. Our foreheads pressed together, we calm ourselves before turning. My family’s butler has come to find us for dinner. I would’ve preferred to eat in my room. Or Brannon’s.

We walk to the dining room, my hand in the bend of his elbow. It’s as if nothing has happened, until he turns to me, handing me his handkerchief. “Lipstick.” I press it to my mouth, and he touches up the corner with his thumb. I quickly apply another coat, shoving it in his pocket.

“Good evening,” reluctantly, I greet my parents’ as we enter the room.

My mother, polite as always, replies, “Good evening. Look at the two of you, picture perfect.”