Nice Until Proven Naughty

by K. L. Grayson

  “Wow,” she breathes. “That’s wonderful. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.” I finish off my coffee and set the mug on the end table. “Unfortunately, all of the time spent at work was time away from Lorelei. She eventually found someone to give her what I wasn’t: attention.”

  Sam’s eyebrows jump up. “She cheated on you?”

  I nod. “For a solid year. She finally came clean and broke things off after a mutual friend told me about her indiscretions.”

  “When was that?”

  “Last Christmas.”

  “Lucas.” Samantha is looking at me—not with pity, but empathy. “I’m so sorry that happened. No wonder you haven’t decorated.”

  “Thanks.” And because I don’t want to talk about Lorelei, let alone think about her, I push up from the couch and grab my mug. “Need a refill?”

  “No thanks. I’m good.”

  6

  Lucas

  I can’t believe I just spilled my guts to her. Samantha and I went to school together, but that’s where our connection ends. And that was forever ago, and I’m not exactly at a point in my life where I want to make new friends. I’ve got my family and a few close buddies from college, and that’s all I need.

  The sooner I can get her out of here, the better. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and I have plans. Big, big plans.

  Plans that have nothing to do with the wedding invitation sitting on my counter from the woman who shall not be named.

  Christ, I’m a mess.

  I pour another cup of coffee, rather than the alcohol I’d prefer to have, and when I walk back into the living room, Samantha is hunched over a box that’s sitting beside the front door.

  “Do you want help?” she asks, looking over her shoulder.

  “With what?”

  “Decorating for Christmas.” When she stands up, she’s holding a giant snowman I bought to decorate my dorm room my first year of college.

  “I’m not decorating.” I take the snowman from her hand and smile when I remember the day I bought it. “I got this my freshman year of college. My roommate Jared and I were both a little homesick. Of course, neither one of us wanted to admit it. We bought a few decorations for the dorm room. This was one of those things.”

  “You should put it up.”

  She tries to take it from my hands, but I keep a firm grip on it. “Nah. I’m throwing it away.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m not decorating this year,” I say a little too harshly. When she flinches at my tone, I shake my head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just not feeling very festive. Plus, Lorelei always hated this snowman. She said it was the ugliest thing she’d ever seen.”

  “It is the ugliest snowman I’ve ever seen,” Samantha says, laughing. “But I think you should put it up because she hated it.”

  “Yeah?”

  She nods, and then her smile fades and she tilts her head and watches me with an empathetic eye. “Why aren’t you decorating? Is it because she broke up with you at Christmas last year?”

  “That and because she’s getting married tomorrow.”

  “Shit.” Samantha looks at the snowman in my hand, and I swear her eyes get glossy. “I hate her.”

  “Why?” I ask, taken aback.

  “Because she hurt you. Not only did she cheat on you for a year—which is despicable, by the way—she broke up with you at Christmas, and now she’s getting married right before Christmas?”

  “She sent me an invitation to the wedding,” I blurt.

  “That bitch,” she mumbles. “You can’t let her win, Lucas. Christmas is about hope and love and miracles, and maybe you should start looking at it as a time to celebrate her absence.” She takes the snowman from my hand, and this time I let her, because maybe she’s right.

  Is it possible I’ve been looking at this all wrong?

  Rather than wallowing in self-pity, I should be celebrating because I am better off. And right now I’m with a woman who is nothing like Lorelei.

  Maybe I need someone more like Samantha.

  “Bring that box over here,” she says, interrupting my thoughts.

  I should protest, but when I look up and see her peeling off the Santa coat, all rational thought flies right out of my head.

  She’s standing in front of me in a tiny red dress, candy cane stockings that stop just below her knees, and a beautiful smile.

  “What do you think?”

  “You’re gorgeous,” I say, not feeling at all embarrassed for blurting that out, because it’s the truth.

  She’s stunning. Like my very own Christmas present sent from Santa for me to unwrap.

  Samantha smiles bashfully, and her cheeks turn the prettiest shade of red. “Thank you. But I was talking about the snowman.”

  When I look up, I see the snowman Lorelei hated sitting front and center on the mantle. “It looks great up there,” I say, grabbing the box and walking it to her. “She hated everything in here.”

  “Then we’re putting it all up. Grab the garland.”

  We spend the next thirty minutes decorating my living room and another hour putting up the pre-lit tree I bought two years ago but never got around to opening.

  By the time we’re done, it looks like Santa threw up in my house. It’s over the top, and a little gaudy and, “I love it.”

  “Me too.” Samantha giggles and throws her arms around my neck. I find myself laughing right along with her as I wrap my arms around her waist and spin her around.

  When I set her back on her feet, Samantha pulls back just enough to look at me, but keeps her arms around my neck. The dull glow of the fire and the twinkling of the Christmas lights shine around her like a halo.

  She’s my very own Christmas angel.

  “Thank you for doing this,” I say.

  “You don’t have to thank me. I was happy to do it. You’re a great man, Lucas. Always have been, and you can’t let a woman like Lorelei take away your Christmas spirit. I promise you, we’re not all like her.”

  “You’re pretty great yourself. I think you’re going to do wonderfully at this whole nice thing. But, I hope you don’t change too much, because Naughty has always been pretty great the way she is.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  A smile slides across her face, big and wide and breathtakingly beautiful, and I want nothing more than to kiss her and see if her lips are as soft as they look.

  Samantha’s eyes dip to my lips. The desire in her eyes matches my own, and I don’t waste another second. I tighten my arm, hauling her in so close that she has no choice but to push up onto her toes.

  She breathes my name. Lucas. Her warm, sweet breath fanning across my face in the process. I lower my head, ready to press my lips to hers, when the shrill sound of a phone rings in the background.

  She blinks and whips her head to the left. “Shit. That’s probably my sister. She’s probably wondering where I am.” She untangles herself from my arms and runs across the room to grab her phone. “Hello?”

  I listen intently to a one-sided conversation.

  “Yes…okay, perfect…thank you.”

  When Samantha hangs up, she looks at me. There’s a sadness in her eyes that wasn’t there a few moments ago.

  “Was that your sister?”

  She shakes her head. “It was James. He’ll be here in five minutes.”

  “You don’t have to go,” I say, not quite ready to let her.

  It’s crazy to want her here. We didn’t talk much in high school, and I don’t know her from Mrs. Claus these days, but I want to get to know her more.

  I want to know about her job and what she’s been up to since graduation. I want to know what topping she likes on her pizza and the sounds she makes when she—

  “I wish I could stay, but I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have a million things to do to get ready for the party.” Her face seems to light up as she looks
at me. “Come to the party. I’m auctioning off the local bachelors. I can add you to the lineup. It’ll be fun.”

  She wants to auction me off? “No.”

  “Oh, come on.” She nudges me in the arm with a flirtatious smile.

  I shake my head. “You’re not auctioning me off. It’s a big step letting you decorate my house. I think I’ll save any further celebration for next year.”

  Her smile falters. “That’s too bad, because I think I know someone who would be willing to pay top dollar for you.”

  I stand silently and watch Samantha flit around my living room. She pulls her red, velvet coat back on, along with her winter coat. She slips her feet into her heels and suddenly all signs of her being in my house are gone.

  As soon as she slips out the door I’ll have nothing left but the decorations she put up and the memory of her body wrapped in my arms.

  “I wish you’d consider staying.”

  “And I wish you’d consider coming to the party.”

  “We’re both being stubborn, aren’t we?” I suggest.

  She gives a one-shoulder shrug. “They don’t call me Naughty for nothing.” There’s a loud honk from outside, and Samantha hooks a thumb over her shoulder. “That’s my ride.”

  As though I’m on autopilot, I walk around her and hold open the door. She brushes past me, takes two steps down the front porch, and turns around. My heart rate picks up when she pushes her body against mine and presses a soft kiss to my cheek.

  “I hope you’ll come on Christmas Eve. Not so I can auction you off, or because I want to see you—although I really, really do—but for you. I hope you come for you, Lucas, because you deserve to be happy this Christmas, and selfishly, I think I can help you with that. If you change your mind, the auction is at Sal’s at eleven o’clock in the morning. Your date for the party will be whomever buys you at the auction.”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask if she’d consider buying me and tell her there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than at the party with her on my arm, but the words get stuck, and next thing I know, she’s gone.

  7

  Nice

  “Stop fidgeting. You’re going to be fine,” Jamie says, pulling up along the curb in front of Sal’s.

  “Are you sure you can’t come in with me?”

  “It’s a work party. And in case you’ve forgotten, I don’t work for you.” She puts the car in park, turns to me, and fusses with my hair.

  Normally when I have to work, I keep it pulled back. Tonight, I wanted to try something a little sexier: big, beachy waves that hang loose over my shoulders.

  I’ll probably regret that decision around ten o’clock tonight when I’m sweating my butt off, but at least I’ll look good doing it.

  And, maybe it’ll catch Ben’s attention, which is the ultimate goal. I need to get him to look at me the way he used to, before I messed it all up.

  I would give anything to go back to last Christmas. I’ll never forget the look on his face when I told him the biggest lie I’ve ever told anyone in my life: “I think we’re better off as friends.”

  It took all of five minutes after he walked out the door to realize I’d made a huge mistake. But the tiny voice in the back of my head kept me from chasing after him.

  What if you don’t work out?

  What would happen to Sal’s?

  What would happen to your friendship?

  “What changed?” Jamie says, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “Huh?”

  “Why do you all of a sudden want more with Ben?”

  “It’s not all of a sudden. I’ve wanted more with Ben for years. At first I didn’t think he felt the same way, and then last year…” My words trail off because if I talk about last year again, I’m afraid I’ll burst into tears. Ben and I have wasted so much time—time we could’ve spent together, building a beautiful life. “It’s just taken me this long to pull my head out of my ass and actually do something about it.”

  “Okay, but why now? Did something happen? Did you see him with another girl and get jealous?”

  “What? No.” I shake my head and feel the blood drain from my face. “Why? Did you see him with another girl? Oh God, am I too late?”

  “No.” Jamie shakes her head vehemently. “I’m just asking. Breathe, Nice.”

  I take a few deep breaths. “I’m not scared anymore,” I say. “And I love him, Jamie. I love him so much.”

  She smiles thoughtfully. “I know you do.”

  “I’ve been so stupid, but not any more. I want him, and I’m going after what I want, because I’d rather try with him than spend my whole life wondering what if.”

  “I don’t think you’re going to have to try very hard. The man looks at you like you hung the moon. You might not see it, but we all do.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “I’m always right,” she says, reaching around me to push open my door. “Now get out and go get your man.”

  “Wish me luck.”

  “You don’t need it, but break a leg.”

  “Holy shit,” I hiss the second my feet hit the pavement and almost go right out from under me. It’s going to be harder to walk in these heels than I thought.

  “I didn’t mean for you to actually break a leg,” Jamie hollers out the window.

  I lift a hand. “I’m good. I’ve got this.”

  “For the love of Saint Nick, be careful.”

  I wave her off, square my shoulders, push open the door, and step carefully into Sal’s. We’re closing up shop early tonight for the party, but not for another hour or so.

  “Heya, Naughty!” Chris, a regular, says.

  “It’s me, Nice.” I shrug out of my coat and hang it by the door. When I turn toward Chris, he’s staring at me with wide eyes.

  “No shit?”

  “No shit.” I pat his back as I walk past him and round the bar. “Hey, Crystal.”

  “Hey. We’re out running out of Grey Goose.” She has her head buried in the cooler while she restocks. “Normally it wouldn’t be a big deal, but you know how the boys like their Grey Goose at Christmas.”

  The boys she’s referring to are two of our wonderful cooks, Ethan and Scott.

  “We’ve got some in the back. I’ll have Ben grab it whenever I see him.”

  “Perfect.” Crystal shuts the cooler and stands up. “We’re also running low on peanuts and—whoa, mama.”

  “How do I look?” I smooth my hands down the front of my dress and shimmy my hips.

  Chris sputters. “Don’t do that again.”

  Crystal cracks up laughing. “Tonight is going to be so much fun.”

  “It is? Why?”

  “Because no one is used to seeing you like this. Just wait until Ben sees you. He’s going to swallow his tongue.”

  “And murder every guy who looks at you,” Chris adds.

  That’s what I’m hoping for. “Oh, he will not.”

  “Wanna bet?” Chris takes a drink of his beer. “You’re going to give the poor boy a heart attack.”

  “Who had a heart attack?” Scott says, walking out of the kitchen.

  Chris finishes his beer and hands the empty bottle to Crystal. “Ben will when he sees Nice.”

  Scott scans the bar and does a double take when his eyes land on me. “Dani?”

  “I clean up nice, huh?”

  “I’d say.” He smiles appreciatively. “It’s a far cry from the jeans, T-shirt, and tennis shoes you normally wear.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “You should.” He looks at Chris, who can’t seem to stop staring at me. “Get outta here, man. We’re closing up.”

  Chris groans, but grabs his coat and slinks off after paying his tab. When the remainder of the patrons are gone, Scott looks at me. “You should probably go change.”

  “What? Why?”

  Crystal nods. “He’s right. Otherwise you’re going to give Benny Boy a heart attack. He isn’t going t
o know what hit him when he gets a look at you.”

  “But that’s what I’m hoping for,” I say, a little too loudly.

  Crystals eyes widen, along with her smile. “It is?”

  “It is?” Scott asks, scratching his head.

  “Yes! I’m ready. I love him.”

  “I knew it!” Crystal fist pumps the air and looks around. “Where’s Ethan? He owes me ten bucks.”

  “He’s on his way,” Scott says, a shocked look on his face. Scott and Ben have always been close. “You love Ben?”

  “Yes, but please don’t say anything. I have something special planned.”

  He nods. “Okay. But Dani, please be sure.”

  For the first time tonight, my enthusiasm pales. “I am sure. Why do you say it like that?”

  “Because last year about broke his heart.”

  “I know. I was an idiot. I made a mistake. But I’m going to make things right.”

  “I hope you do, because Ben is a great guy.”

  “Do you think he’ll give me a second chance?” I ask.

  Scott finally smiles. “I know he will.”

  “Good, because I’m ready to settle down. I want more than a date; I want forever.”

  A throat clears from behind us, and we all whip around to find Ben standing in the doorway.

  My God, he’s gorgeous.

  He’s traded in his faded jeans for a pair of darker ones and a flannel shirt—with pearl snap buttons—that wraps tight around his big, strong arms.

  Arms I desperately want wrapped around me.

  He’s wearing the same brown boots he always wears, but instead of a hat, his dark hair is left loose and tousled.

  Other guys would probably use a tube of gel to get the look Ben is sporting. But if I know him, all he did was run his fingers through the soft strands and call it good.

  He shifts, pushing his hands into his pockets. His face is unreadable, and I have no idea if he heard what I said until he asks, “What were you guys talking about?”

  Whew. He didn’t.

  He also hasn’t said a word about the way I look, but that’s okay.