His Christmas List Read Online T.L. Swan

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Novella Tags Authors: T.L. Swan Advertisement1

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His eyes hold mine. "I have toast."

"I can make it," I offer.

"You stay there," he demands as he gets up. "You want a drink?"

I glance at his glass of amber fluid on the coffee table. "What is it?"

"Whiskey."

Hmm, I love whiskey. "Umm."

"I'll take that as a yes," he cuts me off. He fusses around in the kitchen and returns with a glass of whiskey and ice. "This will take the sting out of your foot," he says as he passes it to me. He goes back into the kitchen. I take a sip and wince as I stare at the glass.

Fuck, what is this…200% alcohol? "Thank you," I call.

I look around the room, it's innately masculine. The walls and floors are timber, a huge rug in muted colors is on the floor. The fireplace is big, and a giant metal tub has a heap of huge timber pieces inside of it, waiting for their turn to burn. The dog that lies in front of it hasn’t moved. Is it dead? The couch is tired and slouchy, but very comfortable, and there are curtains and cushions. I wouldn’t imagine a man like him to have cushions. I wonder, does he live here alone?

There's a framed photo on the TV cabinet of a family portrait. It looks like a group of people all standing together in front of a waterfall, though it's too far away for me to see who's in the photo.

"Do you live here alone?" I call.

"Aha," he replies as he does whatever he's doing.

I take a sip of my whiskey. Who bought those cushions?

"Do you have a girlfriend?" I call.

He appears and places a tray down on the coffee table in front of me. It has a big bowl of goulash on it with crusty ciabatta toasted bread on the side. It smells delicious. I look up surprised. "You made this?"

"Last night."

"Wow, I'm impressed."

He holds out a spoon. "You didn’t taste it yet."

I smile as I take it from him. "Well, it smells delicious."

He walks back into the kitchen and the rain comes down hard outside. It's absolutely disastrous and sounds so loud on the tin roof.

"Are you not having any?" I call.

"I already ate."

"Oh." I pick up my bowl and take a spoonful. Holy shit…this is good.

I notice he didn’t answer my girlfriend question, he obviously has one.

"So, have you lived here long?" I ask.

"In the area, all my life. I bought this farm about ten years ago."

I smile as I eat. "You should open a restaurant, this is really good."

"You obviously hit your head, too," he answers dryly.

I hear him washing dishes in the kitchen.

"How did you see my car?" I ask.

"I was out feeding Rex and I looked down the hill when I saw your headlights spin and then go off the road."

I get a flashback of how scary those few seconds were.

"I thought someone may have been hurt so I came looking for you," he says.

"Thank you." I take a big mouthful. "I don’t know what I would've done if you hadn’t shown up."

"You would have been okay," he replies. "I get the feeling that you can look after yourself just fine."

I smile proudly. I like that he made that observation.

I can look after myself…. I've had to do it all along.

My douche-bag husband certainly never did it.

I hear the front door open as the rain really hammers down. "Rex," I hear him call. "Get out of the rain," he calls. I smile as I listen. "Dumb dog," he mutters. "Rex," he calls again, as I hear the rain really come down hard again.

He comes in and slams the door closed.

"Kid troubles?" I ask.

"You could say that," he replies. "He's young and wild, out running around all night. I'm constantly chasing the damn thing and bringing him home."

"What kind of dog is he?" I ask.

"His mother was a wolf. I found her on the side of the road, she'd been hit by a car and been killed. I saw she was nursing so I went looking and two days later I heard them crying in the forest. Brought both pups home, but his sister didn’t make it."

I turn to look at him over the back of the couch as I see a new side to the prickly man.

"I think his father must have been a dog though," he continues, "or there is one somewhere back in his family, he's not a full-bred wolf."

I sip my whiskey as I listen. "Is that why he acts different, cause he's half wild?"

"Maybe," he replies. "I don’t try and curb him too much. He has free reign. I let him be who he was meant to be. I do spend way too much time looking for him though."

I smile impressed. Jack’s a big softy.

I finish my dinner and he comes to collect my plate. "Leave that," I say. "I'll wash it in the morning, you’ve done enough."


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