The Stocking Was Hung(5)

“Wait, Amish?” she asks, breaking into my thoughts of bending her over the bathroom sink. “My parents live close to there too. Are you from Ohio?”

“Yep. All my life,” I confirm.

“Jesus. Talk about a coincidence.” She smiles. “We must be on the same flight.”

“Three o’clock to Cleveland?” I ask in shock.

She nods. “Well, what was supposed to be three o’clock. What time is it now?”

Pulling my cell out of my pants pocket, I check the time and see it’s almost seven at night. I open my mouth to tell her when my phone buzzes with an incoming text.

“Well, would you look at that?” I muse as I tap the screen. “We can now begin boarding at gate C7.”

Noel and I quickly gather our things and spend a few seconds arguing about who is going to pay the tab. I snatch the check out of the bartender’s hand faster than she can and pull my wallet out of my back pocket while she glares at me in the most adorable f*cking way.

Fucking hell. I’m a Marine, dammit. We don’t use the word adorable and yet, I keep doing it with Noel. I need an intervention.

Tossing some cash on the bar top, I give the bartender an awkward nod when she wishes me a Merry Christmas and ignore the questioning look from Noel when I don’t give the woman the customary reply. I don’t really feel like ruining the good time I’ve had with Noel by explaining to her how asinine it is for everyone to throw those words around when they mean nothing. Holding my elbow out like the gentleman I am, Noel slides her small hand through the crook of my arm and we make our way to our gate, enjoying our last few minutes together since I’m sure we won’t be sitting by each other.

*

As the plane taxies down the runway when we land, I look down at Noel with her head on my shoulder, fast asleep. The stuttering jerk of the plane as the pilot hits the breaks makes her wake with a start, her head jerking up to look at me.

“Sorry, oh my God, I can’t believe I fell asleep,” she mutters, pulling away quickly to bend down and grab her purse she stowed under the seat in front of her.

I don’t know what the f*ck is wrong with me, but the closer we get to the end of this flight, the more anxious I feel. I just met this woman and I’m not ready to say good-bye. She drooled on my shoulder and mumbled in her sleep the entire flight, but she felt warm and comfortable with her body pressed up against me. We barely know each other, but talking to her back at O’Hare made me forget about how much I hate this time of year. She made me smile and laugh. I’m not even that depressed she fell asleep as soon as we took off and killed my chance of joining the mile high club. I was just happy the flight wasn’t full and we managed to convince the flight attendant to let us sit next to each other.

When the plane finally stops at the gate, we both stand and I move into the aisle, gesturing with my arm out for her to go first. She smiles and moves in front of me, which at least gives me a great view of her ass as we walk down the aisle and exit the plane. When we get to the corridor, I move up next to her and we walk silently, side-by-side until we get out into the gate area. We stop and turn to face each other, then I hold my hand out in front of me to say good-bye instead of shoving her into the nearest closet and ripping her clothes off. I smile and give her a nod when she slips her hand into mine.

“It was nice meeting you, Noel Holiday,” I tell her honestly.

She doesn’t say anything and I wonder if maybe I misread some of the heat I’d seen in her eyes earlier at the bar. At least I’ll never see her again so it’s not like it really matters if I make a fool of myself right now. I can go home to my empty house in the middle of bum-f*ck nowhere and go to sleep until this shitty holiday season is over, jerking-off to images of her licking her lips until my arm falls off.

Hefting my backpack up onto one shoulder, I drop her hand and turn away from her without another word and head toward baggage claim. I only make it a few feet before I hear her call my name.

“Sam, wait!”

I stop immediately and spin around, crossing my fingers that maybe she feels bad for my dick that’s been on a forced hiatus for a year and a half and wants to help a man out. She moves quickly around the line of people waiting to board the plane we just got off of and jogs the last few feet up to me.

“No one should be alone at Christmas. Come home with me. I can’t promise it will be anything less than a train wreck, but at least you’ll get some delicious home-cooked meals and a few laughs, most likely at my expense,” she rambles.

I couldn’t be any more shocked by the words that come out of her mouth if she asked me to f*ck her in front of the entire airport.

“I’m sorry, what?” I ask in disbelief.

“Turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, all the homemade cookies you can shove in your mouth,” she speaks quickly. “Doesn’t that sound much better than going home to a dead goldfish, an empty fridge, and a house void of porn when the Amish got bored with churning butter and raising barns?”

I haven’t been laid in eighteen months, which is like ten years in horny-man time, and it’s the only reason I’m even contemplating this right now. Right? I mean, there’s no way I’m seriously considering her offer because I just want to spend more time with her whether we’re naked or not.

Shit. The Marines will definitely be revoking my man card now.