A Very Dirty Christmas Read online

  Totally mortifying.

  But Caulter laughs. "Has the guest house been soundproofed?"

  "Caulter!" I say.

  Rose finally turns, a wooden spoon in her hand and her eyebrow arched. "I seem to remember a library ladder that was mysteriously broken a few years ago," she says.

  Ella's eyes go wide. "A ladder!" she says. "You know, there's a lovely library scene in the movie I'm doing. It's about an older woman who seduces a younger –"

  "Stop, stop. That's enough. I'm not listening to my mother talk about seducing a younger man," Caulter says, giving me "that look," the universal sign for 'let's-get-the-hell-out-of-here'.

  "I'm not talking about seducing a younger man," Ella says. "It's a role. But you've given me some ideas about how a ladder could work. Now, were you holding her against the ladder or was she bent over --"

  "Are you actually asking about our sex positions, Ella?" Caulter asks.

  "Has the kitchen become the place to gather now?" My father's voice booms from behind us as he walks into the room, and I slide off the chair, taking this as my cue to leave. "What have I missed?"

  "Nothing!" Caulter and I blurt out at the same time.

  "We were just leaving," Caulter says.

  "I was telling them about a movie I'm shooting," Ella says. "And they were just giving me advice on this ladder lovemaking scene I'm –"

  "And, we're out," Caulter says.

  ***

  The four of us – me, Caulter, my father, and Ella -- are seated around the dining room table together for the first time since that summer. The silence is deafening and awkward, and it brings me right back to that dinner with our parents, years ago.

  “Casual,” my father says. “Casual but...appropriate.” He’s been droning on for the last twenty minutes, giving us a big lecture about tomorrow morning’s breakfast, the summer kick-off to his re-election campaign. I look down at my food again, picking at my salmon even though it’s my favorite. I'm trying to distract myself from the hell on earth I've found myself in, sitting here at the table with my father and Ella and Caulter. Ella nods enthusiastically and beams, while Caulter sits in the chair perpendicular to me, suspiciously quiet. He's not made a single sarcastic comment during the entire meal, and his weirdly pleasant demeanor makes me think my salmon may very well be poisoned.

  Caulter nods at something my father says, as if he's had some kind of personality transplant. Maybe he hit his head when I pushed him into the lake. That wasn't one of my finer moments, but Caulter damn sure doesn't bring out the mature side of me.

  I'm wondering what the hell he has up his sleeve, when I feel something on my calf and nearly jump out of my skin. I catch Caulter's eye and he winks.

  It's his foot.

  I jerk my leg over, glaring at him. Footsies at the table. That's real fucking mature.

  The memory makes me flush warm, especially when I think about what happened the next day, right before the pancake dinner.

  “I don’t want to come on --” I start, but he plunges his fingers inside me, swiftly and without warning, as if he knows how I'm teetering on the precipice, a bundle of need and desire. I grip his shoulders, the rational part of me screaming, Push him away – stop this before it goes any farther! But instead, I cling to him, closing my eyes and surrendering to the pleasure that washes over me.

  He strokes me, his fingers pressing against that spot inside me, doing things to me I haven't felt before…except that night in the hotel with him. My body feels weak, like it's melting into him, and I find myself grinding against the palm of his hand, taking my pleasure from him.

  “Tell me you don’t want to come on me,” he teases. His voice is thick, filled with lust.

  “Caulter,” I whisper softly.

  “Yes, Princess.”

  “Fucking...stop calling...me that.”

  Back then, I hated the nickname he gave me. Now, when he whispers it in my ear, his cock deep inside me, I come almost immediately.

  That thought makes me hot, and I have to bring my attention back to my food to distract myself.

  Damn it. Get yourself under control, Katherine. This is a family dinner.

  I clear my throat. Ella is talking about the wedding. “Your friends will be here tomorrow, is that right?”

  I nod. “Libby and Bailey will be here tomorrow night. Caulter’s friends should be here in the afternoon, I think.”

  Caulter slides his hand across my thigh under the table, and his touch is electric. It's totally appropriate, until he moves his hand slightly, reaching between his legs. The movement is subtle, and he looks up at Ella, his face not betraying what his fingers are doing.

  “Did you have a bachelorette party, Kate?” Ella asks. “Caulter, have you had a bachelor party? You're supposed to do that weeks ahead of time. That's what my wedding planner recommends."

  "We have not had bachelor or bachelorette parties," I say. "Our friends are coming from all over the place, and won't be here until right before the wedding, and I'm pregnant, so…"

  Ella looks horrified. "So you're not having parties?" she asks. "It's traditional."

  I cover my pregnant belly with my hand. "This bride is knocked up, so this wedding is already pretty non-traditional, I think."

  Ella waves her hand dismissively. "Pish-posh," she says. "Pregnant weddings are a thing now."

  "Did you just say pish-posh?" Caulter asks, laughing. "Did you suddenly become British?"

  Ella ignores him. "Who's your maid of honor? And your best man? The wedding planner can help make the arrangements."

  “Kate wants strippers,” Caulter says. “I told her to make sure to get a private dance.”

  My father’s face reddens and he clears his throat. “Are there male strippers in Lake Winnipesaukee?”

  “I don’t want strippers,” I say, laughing at my father’s attempt to treat this like a serious conversation. “Seriously, the idea of staying up past nine p.m. makes me tired just thinking about it. And it's not like I'm going to be doing shots off some guy's abs, anyway."

  “We could go to a strip club during the day,” Ella offers helpfully, spearing a piece of salmon on her fork. “You know, I find strip clubs to be an aphrodisiac. Tacky, but sometimes hot.”

  “Really?” My father asks, his eyes fixated on Ella. She laughs, casually brushing her hand against his forearm, and I give Caulter a look again.

  Caulter makes a gagging sound and mock-vomits. “I don’t need to hear about aphrodisiacs, Ella,” he says. “Or my mother talking about going to strip clubs.”

  “You know, I was doing an interview in one of those women’s magazines the other day, and the interviewer said that I’ve become somewhat of an icon for women of a certain age – that sexuality doesn’t disappear with age. In fact, it gets even better. I think you become more willing to try new things, and --"

  “And, I’ve finished my dinner,” Caulter says, putting down his fork. I snort at his obvious discomfort. Ella has actually grown on me. She really gets under Caulter’s skin, but I kind of like her. And she was totally right about her wedding planner, too. The planner was a godsend, breezing in and taking over all the minutiae that had become major annoyances for me.

  “You can’t really object to this conversation after, well, what happened the other night,” my father says, pointing his fork at Caulter.

  Oh my God, my father is talking about walking in on Caulter and I having sex. Now it’s my turn to be embarrassed.

  “Could we please all just forget about that?” I ask. Caulter looks at me and raises his eyebrows, his expression a smug that's-what-you-get-for-laughing-at-me, and I give him my best glare.

  "Well, I for one am glad that you and Caulter are keeping up an active sex life during the pregnancy," Ella says. "It's very important."

  Beside me, Caulter sips his wine to cover the fact that he's about to fucking laugh, while my face feels like it's on fire. I'm stuck sitting her totally sober, and now mortified.

  It's bad