I’ve been kneeling on the living room floor surrounded by wrapping paper and an ungodly number of presents all afternoon, and he’s been here the whole time—cracking jokes to keep me smiling.
Having Tripp around makes even the most draining activities enjoyable.
How many women are out there right now wishing they didn’t have to tiptoe around a man’s mood swings or unwillingness to participate in things he isn’t as interested in as they are?
Grateful isn’t even a strong enough word for how I feel. I knew he was special, and being with him for the past six months has only made it more apparent to me.
I toss the scissors next to a roll of tape nearby, and then carefully step over a maze of gifts to stand in front of him and wrap my arms around his waist.
“Maybe the branches need more fluffing,” he suggests, studying the tree.
I tilt my head until he finally looks down at me. “You can fluffmybranches.”
“Yikes.” He winces, but there’s a trace of a smile on his face. “Did you pull that one from your notes app of ideas or was it just off the dome?”
I laugh and swat the middle of his back. “If you don’t like my innuendos, just say that.”
Tripp bends forward, and soon I’m shivering at the feel of his lips grazing over the side of my neck. “I love ‘em. Never stop.”
I swallow back emotion as he plants sweet, featherlight kisses on my neck. There’s no lustful hunger or insatiable need as his mouth covers my sensitive skin, and I like that his affection is altruistic. No expectations of reward or a score to settle.
He kisses me just to kiss me. Just because he wants to.
No one else has ever done that before. Only him.
My arms tighten around him, and I close my eyes, attempting to memorize the feeling. It’s like driving slowly on a dirt road with the windows down and a nostalgic song playing on the radio. Or like submerging yourself in a warm bath after playing for hours out in the frigid snow.
All he’s done since our whirlwind of a summer is make me feel this way. A constant flow of comfort.
At that moment, Savannah walks through the door. We turn our heads in her direction, and she widens her eyes like she’s seen a ghost. As quickly as she opened it, she rushes back outside and closes the door again.
“What was that about?” I ask.
Tripp shrugs, and Warren is too concentrated on not breaking a ceramic hot chocolate stand to even notice what just happened.
“I need a shower, and we should probably head to your place soon,” Tripp suggests. “Get you packed up for this weekend.”
I fly out for a speaking engagement in less than twenty-four hours and have yet to pack a single thing. I almost turned it down because of the timing, but my return flight gets back the day before Christmas Eve.
It’s my second time presenting my mission-based app development experience to a group of young, aspiring entrepreneurs. Since the first one was posted on YouTube, the number of college programs calling me to host a panel or lecture has been slightly overwhelming.
I never thought I’d be traveling around the country to mentor young adults who share my passion for creating something like I did with my app. But if I can influence them to focus on positively impacting their communities instead of chasing a buck, I’ll take every opportunity that comes my way.
With a sigh, I pull away from Tripp and reach for the phone in my pocket that’s been buzzing for the last minute. He kisses me on the cheek before walking down the hall to his room, but instead of following him to grab some of my things, I’m fixated on the string of odd text notifications on the screen in my hand.
Blythe
Is Heston in there?
Hello??
Mesa! ANSWER YOUR DAMN PHONE.
If you see this, act like you’re going to take the trash out or something and come out back. Don’t tell anyone we’re out here!
I scrunch my nose. What in the hell is she freaking out about? I slowly pocket my phone and briefly scan the room. Gage, Warren, and Heston are all preoccupied and none the wiser. Tripp is probably in the shower by now.
Without a word, I slip on my denim jacket and creep out the back door.