A Holiday Seduction: A Holiday Novella

by Tiffany Patterson

  His words cause a shiver to run down my back. “You know that sounds crazy, right?” My voice comes out more breathy than usual.

  “Crazy as it may be, it’s the truth.” There’s not a hint of laughter or jovialness in his tone. Oddly, I feel my nipples pebble beneath the padding of my bra.

  Neil bends low and plants a kiss beneath my earlobe. “Besides, my favorite part of tonight will be once I get you alone, in my family’s cabin, stripped bare for my eyes only. I don’t plan on letting anything or anyone get in the way of that.”

  Another shiver. Squeezing my thighs together, I do my best to regroup and turn on my heels, unable to give Neil another look. I know if I do, I might do something crazy, like ask him to take me on the bed he was just sitting on. Right on top of all the coats and jackets the night’s guests have stored there for the evening.

  I pull open the door and come face-to-face with my frowning mother. A heartbeat later, I feel Neil’s heat at my back.

  My mother looks me up and down in the way I’ve grown accustomed to. She’s been doing it since I was a child. I brace for her to tell me that either my hair needs straightening or my shirt should be tucked in or untucked, or any number of things. My mother can always find anything to nitpick at me over. She did it to Dierdre as well.

  Yet, Neil’s presence behind me gives me the strength not to feel belittled or anxious underneath my mother’s gaze.

  “It’s rude to keep our guests waiting.”

  “Last time I checked, they were your guests,” I mumble.

  “What was that?” she asks over her shoulder as we stride in a line down the hall.

  “I said, I can’t wait to eat. I’m feeling famished.”

  “I hope you don’t overeat. You don’t want to look like a glutton in front of Jaxson.”

  “A glutton is the last thing Desiree is, Mrs. Jackson. She goes out of her way to ensure that others are satisfied before she even thinks of eating. A testament to why her cookie business is doing so well,” Neil defends.

  His compliment steals my breath as we rejoin the rest of the holiday guests in the dining room.

  “Speaking of cookies, I tried to order those pumpkin latte cookies before they were all gone back in October but had no luck.” Aunt Sheryl frowns at me.

  “Mom told me, which is why I made some especially for you, Aunt Sheryl,” I tell her and nod toward the dessert table. “They’re in the tin at the corner of the table.”

  She squeals a little bit in excitement. “I told Jaxson about these cookies, and he said he needed to see for himself how good they are.”

  My smile drops at the mention of her son, who, until this very moment, has kept his distance. Unfortunately, right as my father brings the turkey out, Jaxson moves to my right side.

  “Mama told me you have a little online business selling cookies.”

  “Little?” I say, staring up at him.

  Before he can respond, I feel Neil’s hand at the small of my back. I know it’s him without even looking because of the way my body warms up.

  “We’re sitting on this side.” His hold on my waist firms. He pulls me toward the other side of the table and away from Jaxson and his mother.

  While my other relatives and friends of my parents continue to talk amongst themselves, not noticing this exchange, I feel the tension in the air as Neil glares at Jaxson over my head.

  I squeeze his arm, letting him know it’s all good. I could kill my mother for putting me in such an awkward situation. She knew I planned on bringing Neil to this dinner. We talked about it days ago. While I had picked up on some hesitance on her part, I thought it was because she hadn’t gotten to know Neil very well, at least, not outside of the parameters of his work.

  She’d never seemed to have a problem before, but now, I couldn’t help but pick up on her reluctance. And the fact that she pointedly tried to get Jaxson and I alone earlier, in the kitchen, telling Neil that my father needed his help in the living room, was beyond disrespectful.

  Aside from a few stares across the table from Jaxson, dinner goes well. My father’s turkey and ham are the talk of the table, as are my mother’s mac n’ cheese and my sweet potatoes.

  “It was a family effort,” I say, laughing when one of my mother’s cousins goes on about how good everything is.

  “I know that’s right. I sure miss those garlic mashed potatoes that Dierdre used to make,” that same cousin, who’s known for not having much of a filter, comments.

  The air stills, and I turn my head to face the end of the table where my parents are sitting. My mother’s lips are pinched while my father sits there, staring down at his plate, still as a statue.

  A quivering uneasiness arises in my belly. It’s the same feeling that happens whenever Deirdre’s mentioned in front of my parents. A warm feeling moves over my thigh, and I glance down to find Neil’s hand covering it. He squeezes my leg, gently reminding me that I’m not alone. Glancing up, I give him a small smile of appreciation. He’s the only person in my life, aside from Jackie, that I’ve talked about Dierdre to.

  “Now, why would you go and bring her name up?” Aunt Sheryl chastises Denitra from across the table.

  “What? I just said I missed the girl’s mashed potatoes.”

  “Just hush. Jaxson, tell us about your new job.”

  “Wait, why can’t we bring up Dierdre’s name? She’s a part of this family, too,” I say, finding bravery that I’d never had before.

  The uncomfortable silence that ebbed into the room before now balloons as my mother’s slanted gaze fixates on me. Instead of backing down, I stare right back at her.

  “Desiree, now is not the time,” she says through gritted teeth.

  “Then, when is the time? Because it’s not like we’ve ever found time to bring her up in the three years since she overdosed.”

  Someone at the far end of the table gasps. My mother abruptly stands, slamming her cloth napkin onto the table. “I believe the biscuits are done,” she says as an excuse to exit the room. She spins and pushes through the swinging door to enter the kitchen.

  Feeling buoyed by something I can’t quite explain, I rise as well, tossing my napkin onto the table and make a beeline for the kitchen. Even when my father’s hand grips my wrist, trying to stop me, I pull away.

  “Mom, what was that?” I demand entering the kitchen.

  I’m ready for the stern glare she gives me when she turns away from the oven.

  “Not now, Desiree.” She turns back to the oven, opening it and using the mitten on her hands to pull the second helping of biscuits out. “Can’t believe you tried to embarrass me like that.”

  “How did I embarrass you?”

  “You know what you did.” She slams the baking sheet onto the island.

  “By bringing up Dierdre? Wait, excuse me. I wasn’t even the one to bring her name up first. Which, I’m ashamed to say I didn’t.”

  “Ashamed? What you should be ashamed of is continuing to bring her name up even after the conversation had moved on. And that’s on top of what you already did.”

  “I won’t be embarrassed by my sister. What do you mean, on top of what I already did?”

  She looks at me as if I’ve just spit in the biscuits sitting on the counter. “Bringing that man to this house.”

  I rear back, shocked at the venom in her voice. “That man? You mean Neil?”

  “What other man would I be talking about?” she says in a lowered voice, possibly hoping that her tone wouldn’t carry out to the guests on the other side of the table.

  “You’ve had something negative spewing in your mind ever since that day you stopped by my apartment to find him there, haven’t you? Let it out. Say what you need to say.”

  She shakes her head. “For the life of me, I don’t know why my children worked so hard to defy me. All I’ve ever tried to do was give you and your sister the best life possible. She had to go out and start drinking and doing drugs just to spite me. And you …” She point
s her finger at me, accusingly. “It’s not enough for you to see your father and I suffering after her death. You go and get involved with a man you know has a history of drinking and drugging himself.”

  I inhale sharply, horrified that she would bring up Neil’s past in such an ugly fashion.

  “He hasn’t done that stuff in years.”

  “I bet that’s what he tells you. Your sister was good at lying, too. Yeah, he runs that rehab, but I bet it’s all a front. Nothing more than a way for him to keep in contact with his suppliers or whatever he uses to get his drugs.”

  “Mom, that sounds ridiculous. Where are you getting all of this from?”

  “I may play the stay-at-home mom to you, but I know what types of façades people hide behind. He’s hiding something,” she accuses.

  I shake my head. “You’re making stuff up because you can’t deal with your feelings.”

  “What feelings?”

  “Your own guilt,” I shout.

  “I have nothing to be guilty about.”

  “Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Maybe one day you’ll believe it.”

  “I did the best I could by you girls.”

  “Yeah, and your best ran Deirdre right into her grave!”

  My mother’s eyes widen in horror, but it doesn’t stop me from saying what I’ve been feeling for years now.

  “All your pushing and criticizing, day after day, year after year. No wonder she turned to drugs and alcohol. Who wouldn’t want to with your constant voice in their head, reminding us of how we’re not good enough?”

  My chest moves up and down rapidly as my breathing quickens. I’ve felt this for so long. For years I felt almost numb to my mother’s constant small jabs and critiques on how we looked, sat, ate, performed at school. Nothing seemed good enough for her standards.

  “So you bring home a junkie just to make your point, huh?”

  I gasp and ready myself to give her a tongue lashing, but a firm hand wraps around my arm.

  “Desiree, don’t,” Neil’s voice pierces the veil of my anger.

  I look over my shoulder with hot, angry tears in my eyes. Our eyes connect, and I see his staring back at me, calmly but firmly telling me not to continue down this path.

  “I think it’s time for us to leave,” he says, still staring at me.

  Slowly, he moves his gaze to my mother, behind the kitchen island. “Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Jackson. Let’s go, Desi.”

  Part of me wants to continue standing there. I want to verbally duke it out with my mother, telling her all of the things I’ve held in over the years. But, Neil’s hand on my arm, gently pulling me in the direction of the kitchen exit, is too alluring. Wordlessly, I follow him, noting that he’s already retrieved our coats from the room down the hall.

  He holds the door open for me, and I’m surprised to find my father standing outside on the porch.

  “You enjoy your weekend, baby,” he says in a low voice before pressing a kiss to my cheek. “Take care of her,” my dad tells Neil and nods, heading back inside.

  There’s silence as we reach the car. We don’t exchange words as he starts the ignition.

  I’m grateful for the comfortable silence that settles between us as we start for our long drive to his family’s cabin.

  Chapter 11

  “Dammit! This is why Black people don’t do this type of stuff,” I growl, trying to get up off of the snow-covered ground.

  Neil’s laughter would be annoying if the richness of his chuckles didn’t feel as if they were reaching down into my very core.

  “Black people snowshoe,” he retorts, grabbing my arm to lift me to my feet.

  “Name three,” I request, placing my mittened hands on my hips and staring up at him.

  Shaking his head, he calmly says, “Keith, a friend of mine from grad school. Barron, he’s an old colleague of my fathers, and … you.”

  “I don’t count. This isn’t snowshoeing. This is me falling on my ass so that you can get a good laugh.”

  After the previous night’s long drive and the incredibly disruptive way dinner ended at my family’s, I was looking forward to sleeping in this morning. Neil had other plans. His behind had the nerve to wake me up at the butt crack of dawn to go snowshoeing of all things.

  “You do count,” he declares, moving closer to lift the edges of the wool hat I wore so I could see him. “Besides, you said you enjoyed hiking.”

  “Yes, hiking. This isn’t hiking.”

  “It is. Just with a different kind of shoe on.”

  “While trudging through snow, instead of on dirt or gravel. That I can deal with.”

  “It’s hiking in the snow. Besides, you can’t tell me this view isn’t worth the trouble.” He spreads his arms out wide.

  “Meh,” I huff and wave my hand at him, causing him to laugh even more.

  “You’ll learn to love it.”

  Rolling my eyes, I say, “Not likely. And why do you have that sled if we’re just snowshoeing?” I ask, eyeing the sled he’s been dragging behind him for the last mile since we left the cabin.

  “It’s for the real reason I brought you out here,” he says with a hint of mystery in his voice.

  “You have a surprise for me?” That lifts my spirits a little. I like surprises.

  “We’re out here to look for a Christmas tree.”

  My eyes widen as my smile increases. “Wait, really?”

  With a grin, Neil removes the hiking pack from his back, and for the first time, I notice a blue handle sticking out of the bag. Lowering it to the ground, he unzips the pack and removes the hand saw.

  “Whoa, if I didn’t know any better, I’d be a little nervous.”

  He chuckles. “No worries, beautiful.” He moves closer, brushing his lips against mine.

  I instantly melt, despite the cold temperatures and snow around us.

  “You have nothing to worry about. You’re completely and utterly safe with me.”

  I stare into his eyes, and he does the same, eyeing me back. It’s as if his words have a deeper meaning than just this moment. Before I get too embedded in that gaze and do something foolish like asking him to repeat those words, I blink, turning away. My mother’s words from the night before return. “I bet that’s what he tells you. Your sister was good at lying, too.”

  “Are you cold?” Neils asks when I visibly shiver.

  “I’m fine. Now that you’ve shared with me the purpose of this excursion, I’m ready to pick out a tree.” I plaster a smile on my face and peer at the trees surrounding us. “What about that one?” I ask, pointing. I forget my disdain for snowshoeing as I move closer to the tree. The prospect of dragging this one back to the cabin and decorating it excites me.

  “Looks like a good one. Let me inspect it.”

  Standing back, I watch as Neil sizes the tree up. Soon, however, he frowns, and with one shake of his head, he dashes my hopes.

  “Not quite ready yet. Let’s keep looking. There’re plenty of Douglas firs out here that’ll look great in the living room of the cabin.”

  Pushing my mother’s words to the far reaches of my mind, I work to remain present with Neil as we hunt for the perfect tree. It works, and soon, my mind is only on inspecting the greenery of the leaves and thistles of each tree we come across and laughing with Neil every time he gets a little or a lot of snow dumped on him from one of the larger trees.

  “This is the first time I’ve ever gotten a fresh tree from the woods.”

  “Really?” Neil looks back at me as he continues to cut at the trunk of the tree we picked out.

  I stare at the tree, which isn’t more than five feet in height. She’s small, but she’s a beauty, in my opinion. And since we’re more than a mile from the cabin, it’ll still take some effort to haul her back.

  Nodding, I respond, “Yeah, we always got fresh Christmas trees, but my dad would buy them from one of the local tree farmers who set up their makeshift store outside of the community square each
year.”

  “Is that where the Christmas tree lighting for your town happens?” he asks as he continues to cut.

  “Sure is. Hey, you need some help?” I call around the tree when he disappears behind it.

  Neil’s head pops out from behind the fir. “Nope, I’ve got it. Almost done with this, just needed a better angle. Hey, do me a favor and stand to the side. I don’t want this baby falling on you when I let ’er rip.”

  I laugh at how cheesy but genuine he sounds.

  Taking my gaze off of the tree, I glance around at our surroundings. Despite my protestations earlier, this is a sight to behold. Neil’s family’s cabin is located near Mount Rainier, tucked away along one of the beautiful mountain lakes. Although technically, it’s a cabin, it’s not one of those one-room-fits-everything dwellings. The house is massive, with six bedrooms, five bathrooms, a spacious living room, and a dining area that’s nearly the same size as the living space.

  “Hey, are we going to decorate the entire cabin?” I ask, wondering.

  “If you want. We spent the holidays up here when I was a kid, so my parents always keep holiday decorations here.”

  I nod, feeling excited.

  “We always decorated the day after Thanksgiving,” I comment, my chest constricting as I think back on my childhood holiday memories.

  “You told me, which is why I brought us out here. Three … two … one,” he calls out.

  I turn to see the tree he’d been hacking away at falling to the ground. A rush of excitement rolls through my body. Suddenly, I can’t wait to get the tree back to the cabin to decorate.

  “Our first tree together.”

  I stare up at Neil. He's sweaty but beaming with pride and that intense gaze, searing me as we lock eyes.

  “Our first,” I repeat above a whisper. Silently, I add on, hopefully not our last.

  “I hope the cookies come out all right. I kind of had to guess the oven times,” I say worriedly, biting my bottom lip as I watch Neil setting up the tree in the green metal stand.