Boxes & Bows

SAM

Damn, but Evie knew how to roll her hips just right to make me cum quickly. It was nearly embarrassing. However, the way she’d glowed as she watched me unload tattled that she liked it.

I felt so satisfied that I could almost fall asleep at the wheel as I drove us toward the office. If I’d known that was how Evie would react to me dropping the L-word, I would’ve said it even sooner. Immediately. Ten minutes after I met her, maybe.

If anyone could make me believe in love at first sight, it was Evie.

Despite Evie’s wheedling questions about the wrapped gift in the backseat, I was making her wait to open it until we got to her apartment. I was ~so~ looking forward to her reaction. I did love spoiling her.

I frowned as my cell started ringing from the center console. I really needed to keep my eyes on the gridlocked cars trailing through the slush and grime on the roads; between the bad weather and the holidays approaching, traffic was no joke.

“Hey angel, can you get that?” I asked. “Put it on speaker for me?”

Evie nodded, seized the phone, flipped it open, and held it between us.

“Hi, is this Samuel Vázquez?” a man asked.

“Yeah. Who’s this?”

“This is Detective Davis. I was just following up on your case. We’ve determined that while there were initial signs that accelerant may have been present, the more likely explanation for the fire is an electrical short caused by last week’s blackout.

“Without clear evidence of arson, we will be making the recommendation that your insurance company treat this fire as accidental and compensate you accordingly.”

The car ahead of me moved about three feet forward, and I followed. “You don’t sound sure it wasn’t arson,” I said, cautious. “Did you follow up on the lead about Greg Abbott?”

“We spoke to Mr. Abbott,” the detective confirmed. “He claims he spent the night with Mia Sinclair, and Ms. Sinclair confirms that alibi. Without any physical evidence linking him to the scene, we don’t have enough for a warrant.”

“So…that’s it?” I asked. “One day, and you’re done investigating?”

Detective Davis ~hmm~ed. “This is how arson cases go sometimes. Hell, this is how a lot of cases go. Your girlfriend’s bad feeling about this Abbott guy isn’t enough to go on, I’m sorry to say.”

“Take the insurance payout and go on with your life, Mr. Vázquez. If you’re right that Mr. Abbott is bad news, chances are he’ll get himself caught one way or another. Or, who knows? Maybe this’ll be enough to scare him straight.”

I didn’t love this answer, but what could I do? I thanked the detective, and Evie hung up the phone for me.

“Mia Sinclair,” Evie said bitterly. “That was our maid. The woman Greg cheated on me with. I can’t believe he brought her here. And he was still trying to win me back at the same time? Who does that?”

I risked taking my eyes off the road just for a minute to peer at her. “So you believe his alibi checks out, then?”

She hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t know Mia that well. I can’t say if she’d lie for him. But…you heard the detective. It doesn’t really matter what you or I believe. They’ve stopped investigating, so if Greg did this, he’s going to get away with it.”

“And you’re…okay with that?” I asked incredulously.

When I glanced at her again, she was making a face like something smelled bad. “Greg isn’t my problem anymore. He’s Mia’s, I guess. As soon as he gets the hell out of Vermont, I can safely stop thinking about him forever.”

I chuckled a little, trying to lighten the mood. “I thought ~my~ ex was a piece of work. At least Carla is safely married off to someone else, not trying to win me back with romantic arson.”

“Alleged romantic arson,” Evie corrected, sounding amused. She snuck a sidelong look at me. “I’m still sorry about your office, however it happened.”

“We’re meeting the contractor now, and it’s all gonna get fixed,” I said, trying to convince myself as much as Evie.

“I hope so,” she agreed.

“It will,” I said more firmly. “I’ve heard Charlie Carter is great at his work.”

We finally pulled up outside the firm, parking near the curb behind a black Ford F-350 pickup with the words “Carter Construction” printed on its doors and tailgate.

The lifted rig flaunted large tires with treads deeper than the Mariana Trench, sitting out past the fender flares by at least an inch. I smirked. “I guess Charlie takes pride in his ride.”

“I’d say…,” Evie said with wide emerald eyes.

As Evie and I scooted from my Mercedes, the driver’s side door of the truck flew open, and a woman with shoulder-length umber waves climbed out. She was about Evie’s height, wearing ripped jeans and tan steel-toe boots.

She made a beeline toward us, but all Evie and I could do was glance at each other in confusion.

“Hi,” she said, holding out a calloused palm. “I’m Charlie Lee Carter.”

I accepted the handshake, and she squeezed me firmly before turning and shaking Evie’s hand as well. We were both still in a daze, probably looking rude at this point.

“I’m sorry, you’re just not what we were expecting…,” I said.

“It’s no problem; I’m used to people assuming I’m a man based on my name and the general preference in the contractor profession for big, burly dudes,” Charlie said. “I have a team that works with me when I need them, but also, I’m stronger than I look.”

Charlie nodded at Evie. “This your wife?” she asked.

My eyes ballooned. “Uh…”

“No,” Evie said. “We’re just—”

I pointed at my chest. “Boyfriend.”

“Dating,” Evie said at almost the same time.

“Okay. Forget I asked,” Charlie said, clearly recognizing the awkwardness and deciding to skate right past it. “How about that tour?”

***

True to her reputation, Charlie was very professional during her walk-through, quoted me a fair price, and promised to get started right after Christmas, giving me and Evie just enough time to file all the insurance paperwork.

With that out of the way, Evie and I finally rolled up at her apartment, where I grabbed the clothes I’d brought to change into for dinner before dramatically pulling the wrapped present from the back seat. “Ready to open this now?” I asked as we headed inside.

“Yes!” she crowed. “I have something for you too, actually. I’ll give it to you after our date.” I guessed waiting until Christmas wasn’t her strong suit, either. Fine by me; I liked presents as much as the next guy.

Hovering over Evie by the kitchen counter, I watched as she peeled off the thin wrapping paper covered in candy canes. Her eyes went comically huge as soon as she spotted the name on the shoebox.

“You didn’t,” she murmured in disbelief. With eager fingers, she ripped off the lid, revealing a pair of six-inch shiny black Louboutins with the insides lined in red velvet.

“Sam, I can’t take these,” she said, twirling toward me. “Do you know how expensive these are?”

“Yeah, I do. Trust me, I paid for them,” I said, snickering. “But you ~will~ take them. Because they’re not just shoes. They’re the exact same pair you were wearing the night I met you. I had Saanvi check.”

“Sam, I—”

“Every woman deserves that one thing that makes her feel confident,” I said, interrupting her. “For you, that just so happens to be a crazy expensive pair of shoes.”

I laid my lips on hers before any more words could escape, cupping her face and wishing I could just hoist her onto the granite countertop and have my way with her for the second time today. But for now, we had other plans.

Peeling my mouth away, I commanded, “So, here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna go get dressed, put those on, and then later, I’m gonna strip them off you the way I did the night we met.”

I could practically feel the fever radiating off her, warning that I wasn’t the only one ready for a fuck. But she said only, “You’re the boss…” before turning and waltzing into her bedroom.

I grabbed my suit and headed to the bathroom to take a leak before I got changed.

I tapped the light switch as I entered, illuminating her basic little white walk-in shower and a granite vanity. All her makeup and hair care products were spread out across the sink; it seemed like she’d gotten a lot more moved in since I was last here.

I closed the door, draping my outfit on a hook on the back of the door, and flipped up the toilet seat, whistling to myself as I unzipped. I was midstream when something in the trash can beside the bowl caught my attention.

Two lengthy white sticks stood upright in the otherwise empty container, sporting pink tips. I recognized them right away: pregnancy tests.

Carla didn’t want kids, but she refused to go on the pill, saying it made her gain weight. All through our ten-year marriage, she insisted I wear condoms, and a few times when her period was a day or two late, she made me go out and buy tests just to make sure.

She wanted me to get a vasectomy, but the idea kind of freaked me out. I was planning on finally getting it done for our ten-year anniversary, but after I found out she was cheating on me, I canceled it.

No point in maiming myself for a woman who was fucking some other guy behind my back.

Anyway, after my conversation yesterday with Evie, I definitely wouldn’t have expected her to have pregnancy tests in her trash.

~I shouldn’t look.~

It was none of my business. If they were positive, Evie would’ve told me. Surely she was on the pill; we’d never even talked about birth control.

~I really shouldn’t look.~

Looking back, that was really stupid. I didn’t even offer to wear a condom on that first night, did I? Two adults acting like irresponsible teenagers after a dose of alcohol wasn’t a brilliant choice on our part.

~I want to look.~

Evie had said she couldn’t get pregnant, anyway.

~I really wanna look.~

Would it be awful of me? They were right there—pink caps in the air, practically begging to be gawked at.

I let out a conflicted sigh and yanked my zipper up, so focused on the garbage that I nearly zipped my dick in its tracks.

I felt like a douchebag for violating her privacy, but I reached down, grabbed one, and peered at the little screen—only to be gut-punched by two tiny pink lines.

Goosebumps sprang up over every inch of my flesh as I stood there in shock. Heat welled in my eyes, and my heart pounded like crazy.

Carla never wanted kids, and I was more or less okay with that. Evie said she couldn’t have kids, and I was totally okay with that. But now, faced with those two lines…I wanted what those lines represented.

I wanted to be a dad. I wanted it so bad that I suddenly couldn’t breathe.

I delicately opened the restroom door and veered out into the living room, unable to tear my gaze from the piece of plastic in my hands.

“Does this dress look okay?” Evie asked from the bedroom. I looked up to see that the door was open, and she was frowning at herself in the full-length mirror. “I feel like it—”

She cut off, shooting me a panicked expression when she saw what I was holding.

“Uh, Evie…,” I muttered, my insides still tangled up like a goddamn Christmas bow. “Do you have something to tell me?”