by Tara Sivec
Chapter 10
Sam
“She’s fine, I don’t think my wife and our mother will bite her,” Nicholas laughs, lifting his bottle of beer up to his mouth and taking a swallow.
I turn my head back guiltily from looking out the kitchen doorway to the living room where Noel has been busily wrapping presents with her mom and Casey for the last half hour. It would be best if I don’t tell her brother that I’m not worried about Noel because I’m too busy daydreaming about her pussy and those little throaty moans she made every time I moved my fingers a certain way inside of her.
Jesus, she’s hot when she comes. Fuck, she’s hot when she just stands there, breathing.
While Reggie is busy outside checking bulbs and making sure all of his lights are in working order for the judging later tonight, Nicholas decided we needed a little one-on-one time in the kitchen. I’ve spent the last two beers ignoring his glaring eyes and his jokes about my worry for his sister every time I glance over my shoulder.
I just want one look at her. Once peek at her ass in those black leggings she slipped on when we got home from the mall that left nothing to the imagination. Damn, that ass. Such a fine, fine ass.
“Stop picturing my sister naked and focus,” Nicholas scolds, pointing his bottle at me. “What are your intentions with Leon?”
I raise an eyebrow at his question and take a drink of my own beer to give me a minute to process my thoughts. I don’t think Noel would appreciate it if I told him to fuck off. I’ve resorted to saying WWLD in my head each time Nicholas grilled me in the house tour yesterday. What Would Logan Do?
Right now, I don’t really give a fuck what that dumb-shit would do. He’s not here and I am.
“What do you care about my intentions? Seems to me like all you care about is picking on your sister,” I snap back.
Nicholas sets his bottle down, crosses his arms over his chest, and leans his chair back on two legs. “Not true. Leon just makes it too easy because she never defends herself.”
“Not a good enough reason to make her feel like shit all the time,” I scoff.
He shrugs. “You’ve got family, you know how it is. We tease, we nitpick, but we still love each other at the end of the day.”
His eyes bore into mine like he knows damn well I don’t have a family and it makes me uncomfortable. I just nod my head in agreement, acting like I know everything there is to know about loving families.
“How much money do you make a year?”
My head jerks at the sudden change in topics and I try to push back thoughts of Noel standing in her bedroom wearing nothing but scotch tape, trying to remember what the fuck I said when he asked this same question yesterday.
“Um, like three-hundred K.”
It makes me physically ill to spit that out, knowing Noel had it made with this guy. I barely make just over a tenth of that with the military.
“Right, and how many clients do you have as a fancy money manager?” Nicholas quickly asks next.
“Uh, seventy-four.”
“Aren’t you an investment banker, not a money manager?” he asks casually.
I rerun his previous question through my head and realize my slip-up.
Son of a mother fucking bitch!
“It’s pretty much the same thing,” I tell him stupidly, not really knowing or giving a fuck if that’s true.
The feet of Nicholas’s chair drop back down to the kitchen floor with a thud and he smacks his palms on the top of the table.
“Alright, I can’t take this shit anymore. I know you’re not Logan,” he tells me with a shake of his head.
My mouth drops open as he pushes his chair out from the table, gets up and walks over the fridge, grabbing two more beers. He silently pops the tops off using the magnetic bottle opener stuck to the front of the fridge in the shape of a candy cane, before waltzing back over to the table and sliding one of the beers across it to me. As he sits back down in his chair, he takes a drink of his beer and then casually sets the bottle down on the table. Meanwhile, I’m still sitting here with my mouth open, the beer I’ve already drank curdling in my stomach while I try and quickly come up with a defense for what he just said.
“Breathe, dude, I’m not going to kick your ass or go running to my parents,” Nicholas snickers.
“Right, like you could kick my ass. I’d mop the floor with you,” I mutter, the subtle threat the only words I can come up with as I wonder how in the fuck he knows I’m not Logan. It was the lame excuse for my little southern accent, wasn’t it? It’s not my fucking fault almost my entire platoon is filled with Texans and I spent the last year-and-a-half listening to them twang all their damn words. It rubbed off, dammit.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. If I’m not Logan, then who the hell am I?” I ask, turning it back around on him so I don’t get a headache from thinking about this shit.
“That’s what I’d like to know, because you sure as hell are NOT Logan Masters. I’ve Facetimed with that douche and you, my friend, are not him.”
Oh, shit. Oh, holy shit fuck damn.
“What? Does Noel know this? Why the fuck haven’t you said something before now?” I ask in annoyance.
“Nope, she has no clue. I Facetimed her one time about three months ago and she was in the shower. Dip shit picked up her phone and talked my ear off about how much money he made that month,” Nicholas says with a grimace. “Seriously, all he did was spend fifteen minutes talking about his bank account and what hair products he uses. Even if I hadn’t seen that guy’s face before, I would have known the minute you opened your mouth and didn’t prattle on and on about yourself.”
I don’t even know what to say at this point. So, Nicholas knows, but at least it’s not because I slipped up somehow. He’s seen dumb-shit before and knew what he looked like. As long as I can get him to keep his damn mouth shut until after Christmas, Noel should be good and won’t have to worry about ruining the holiday for her family.
“You can’t say anything, man. She doesn’t want your parents to know.”
“Know what? Obviously she broke up with that putz and convinced you, whoever you are, to pretend to be him so my mother wouldn’t annoy her about settling down,” he says. “Which, by the way, is pointless. Our mother won’t shut up until Leon is wearing a white dress and marching down the aisle. And even then she’ll still nag her about standing up straight and making sure to keep her husband happy.”
My mouth stays shut, not wanting to give away all of Noel’s secrets. She didn’t want them to know what happened for a reason and I’m not about to betray the trust she placed in me.
“Shit. There’s more, isn’t there? Did she quit her job? Get fired? Awwww hell, she did, didn’t she? Fuck, my mother is going to have a coronary,” Nicholas complains.
“I did not confirm anything you’ve just said,” I grit through clenched teeth. “If you decide to go running to Mommy and Daddy, you just remember I did not say a word.”
Nicholas grabs his beer and takes another drink. “Not my secret to tell, so don’t worry. My lips are sealed.”
“Why the hell didn’t you say something earlier? And why didn’t you go to Noel with this? Why me?” I ask.
“Eh, I just wanted to see how long you two yahoos would keep this shit up. It was pretty hilarious,” Nicholas laughs. “But then Leon started looking all lovey-dovey whenever she catches a glimpse of you and she started acting like the old Leon instead of someone who’s too good for us. Now I just want to make sure you don’t fuck her over, because I will shove Santa and his eight tiny reindeer up your ass. And let me tell you, they might be called tiny, but those antlers will hurt like a bitch.”
“I’m not going to fuck her over,” I reassure him.
Fuck her, yes. Hopefully a hundred times before I have to walk away from her. But I will never do anything to hurt her.
“She means a lot to me,” I admit. “I just want her to be happy, whatever it takes.”
“Good, as long as we’re in agreement. If Leon is happy, everyone’s happy. Logan was a dumb shit and completely wrong for her. You seem like good people…”
Nicholas pauses, waiting for me to fill in the blank with my real name.
“Sam, Sam Stocking.”
He barks out a laugh and points his beer bottle at me, waiting for me to clink mine against it.
“Sam Stocking and Noel Holiday,” he muses when I tap the neck of my bottle against his. “You know if you wind up marrying her, my mother is going to insist she hyphenate her name to Holiday-Stocking, which will then drive Leon right over the edge into Crazy Town. Have fun on that ride, man!”
Noel Stocking. Noel Holiday-Stocking. Mrs. Noel Stocking.
Mother of God, I’ve turned into a teenage chick, two seconds away from scribbling her name on my Science book.
“I have to say, I’m pretty impressed you’ve lasted as long as you have, man. This family is certifiably insane. Leon deserves a good guy, and don’t tell anyone I said this or I will stab you with a dull steak knife, but I do believe you’re a good guy, Mr. Sam Stocking,” Nicholas says with a smile. “Just keep her happy. She looks good here at home. Not so high-strung, smiling easily and laughing a lot. That piece of shit changed her when she started dating him. Did you know he’s the reason she didn’t come home last Christmas?”
I shake my head no, feeling really guilty that I’m hearing this shit from Nicholas instead of Noel herself. It feels like an invasion of privacy. Like I’m some creeper who snuck into her house and is riffling through her panty drawer.
I wonder if she’s still wearing that matching red lace number she had on earlier. Her tits in that thin scrap of fabric were a thing of beauty.
“They’d just started dating,” Nicholas continues, quickly bringing me out of my dirty thoughts about his sister. “He convinced her to stay in Seattle with him and that she could come home and see her family anytime. It killed my parents that she didn’t come last year. That asshat changed her and made her feel like she had to be someone else to fit in with him and his rich family and his nose-stuck-in-the-air friends. But with you, she’s our Leon again. So, whatever you’re doing, keep it up.”
I hear laughter float down the hall from the living room and immediately pick out Noel’s mixed in with the other two women. My heart beats faster and I wonder how much longer this wrapping nonsense is going to take before I can sneak her away up to her bedroom and get her naked.
“CODE RED! I REPEAT, CODE RED!” Reggie shouts as he slams open the back door and comes running through the kitchen, snow flying in every direction as it falls from his hair and shoulders.
“GINGERBREAD MAN DOWN! GINGERBREAD MAN DOWN!” he yells, stopping abruptly next to our table. “Does that beer have milk in it?”
I look back and forth in confusion from the bottle of beer in my hand to Noel’s father as he brushes more snow out of his hair.
“Uh, no. That’s disgusting,” I tell him.
“Good. No milk in your beer, no penis in my daughter’s eggnog!” he shouts at me before resuming his panicky yell as his snow boots stomp across the kitchen floor.
“I SAID CODE RED! WHAT ARE YOU PEOPLE DOING SITTING AROUND ON YOUR ASSES?!”
“What the fuck is happening right now?” I ask Nicholas.
“I think my dad wants you to keep your dick out of my sister,” he replies.
“No shit, I already got that memo,” I tell him with a roll of my eyes. “The code red stuff, what’s the deal?”
Nicholas sighs and gets up out of his chair. “That my friend, means if you don’t want to be dragged out into the snow for the next hour helping my dad fix whatever catastrophe is happening out in Winter Wonderland, you better run now. Run and save yourself.”
Oh, hell no! I have plans with a naked women tonight. I will never be able to get a boner again if I have to spend the next hour out in the freezing cold listening to Reggie yell at me about milk.
A few seconds later, Noel comes running into the room, grabbing an extra coat off of the hook by the back door and slipping her feet into a big, clunky pair of her father’s boots.
“WHERE THE HELL ARE ALL THE EXTENSION CORDS? WHO HID MY EXTRA FUSES? BEV, CALL THE COPS, WE’VE BEEN ROBBED!”
Reggie’s muffled voice echoes from the basement below us, followed by the crash of something falling down there with him.
“NEVER MIND! FOUND THE FUSES! NICHOLAS, GO TO HOME DEPOT AND GET ME FIFTEEN CHRISTMAS TREES, STAT! JOHN BARKER THREE HOUSES DOWN HAS TEN MORE THAN ME. I WILL NOT LET THAT BASTARD BEAT ME THIS YEAR!”
“Jesus God,” Nicholas mutters. “He’s lost his fucking mind.”
Noel finishes buttoning up the coat and yanks a scarf off of the coat stand, wrapping it around her neck. “Be nice. This lighting contest is the only thing he has to live for.”
“What about mom?” Nicholas asks.
“FOR CHEDDAR’S SAKE, REGGIE, YOU ARE NOT BUYING FIFTEEN CHRISTMAS TREES, YOU STUPID OLD FART!” their mother shouts down to their father from the living room.
“You were saying?” Noel asks her brother, turning her big green eyes toward me.
I watch quietly as they widen pleadingly like a little puppy dog.
“Will you please come out and help?” she asks me, her lips turning down in a cute little pouty frown.
Fucking hell. So much for my naked woman plans.
With a sigh of defeat, I get up from my chair as Noel claps her hands together with glee, quickly grabbing another coat from the hook next to her and tossing it in my direction.
Yep, it’s official. When I’d rather do anything to see that look on Noel’s face instead of having her naked and on top of me, I think it’s time to admit defeat and throw in the towel.
“DON’T YOU TELL ME WHAT TO DO, DEVIL WOMAN!” Reggie hollers from the basement. “NICHOLAS! I DON’T HEAR YOU GETTING IN THE CAR AND GETTING ME MY DAMN TREES! NOEL, START CHECKING THE BULBS ON SANTA’S WORKSHOP AND SPRAY SOME AIR FRESHENER IN THERE. SAM, YOU BETTER RUN BECAUSE THAT PLACE SMELLS LIKE YOU’VE BEEN DRINKING MILK IN IT!”
I quickly throw on the coat Noel tossed to me and let her grab my hand and pull me outside into the snow before Reggie comes up here and shoves that entire box of fuses up my ass.
Defeat isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I have fallen for this woman and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. Aside from run away from her Christmas-light-crazy father.
Chapter 11
Noel
“This is dumb. I feel dumb,” I complain as paper rustles when I put my hands on my hips.
“Humor me. Turn around, slowly.” Sam’s lips curl up in a devilish smile as he lounges back on my bed with his hands under his head.
I’m standing in my childhood bedroom, with hundreds of strangers traipsing through my parent’s yard outside, wearing nothing but a scrap of white wrapping paper with blue sparkly snowflakes on it. I feel like an idiot, but the dreamy, lustful look on Sam’s face as he watches me slowly turn around makes it a little better.
We spent exactly thirty minutes outside in the snow earlier checking bulbs and making sure the display looked okay before sneaking back inside the empty house. After my mother made us pose for a family photo in front of the house, of course. Yet another family tradition, but this time, I had to practically drag Sam into the picture. He didn’t feel right being in the photo, but I insisted. I couldn’t imagine looking at that photo years from now and not having that memory of him standing beside me, with his arm flung over my shoulder, smiling happily into the camera.
Years from now when I’m still alone, not settled down, and miserable without him.
Nope, I will not think about that now or this little Christmas paper fashion show will be ruined with snot and tears and me looking pathetic.
“You are so fucking hot,” Sam whispers from my bed as I finish my turn.
His words make me feel like less of an idiot as I wear nothing but wrapping paper taped around my body in th
e shape of an extremely short, strapless dress. I crinkle when I move, and good God why is the overhead light still on? It’s too bright in here, making me feel even more foolish.
With two quick claps of my hands, the bright light extinguishes and the small Christmas tree in the corner of the room turns on, bathing the room in soft twinkling lights instead.
“What are you doing? Now I can’t see that hot body of yours?” Sam asks, clapping his own hands.
The bright light blinds me when it flashes back on and I stomp my foot, immediately clapping my hands in irritation.
“It’s too bright in here, and I feel dumb.”
In reply, Sam sits up on my bed and—clap, clap.
“Dammit, cut it out! It’s better with the light off,” I whine.
Clap, clap.
“No, YOU cut it out. I can’t see just how hot you are and dream about slowly unwrapping you without the light on,” he fires back.
Clap, clap.
Clap, clap.
Clap, clap.
We got back and forth until the flashing of my bedroom light looks like a strobe light and my eyes start to go all squirrelly and I can barely even see Sam anymore.
“I can do this all night, you know,” Sam laughs.
Clap, clap.
The stupid clapping is suddenly interrupted with knocking.
“Pssssssssst. Hey, are you guys having a rave in there? I saw strobe lights,” Aunt Bobbie whispers through the door. “I’ve got Ecstasy if you need it. Good stuff, really trippy.”
I glare at Sam who is now bent over laughing on my bed, too busy finding this extremely funny to bother with his fucking claps.
Clap, clap.
The room is pitched into darkness one last time and I glare at Sam, hoping he can see by the glow of the tree that I mean business.
“We’re not having a rave, Aunt Bobbie,” I yell out to her. “Aren’t you supposed to be outside greeting people who come to see the lights?”
Seriously, I just want some alone time with Sam. Is that too much to ask?
“Honey, I’m wearing Manolo Blahniks. Do you honestly think I’m going to go traipsing around in the snow in these beauties? Puh-lease,” she replies with laugh. “Okay, there’s some vodka calling my name. Toodaloo! But seriously, let me know if you want any E, Leon. It really makes things sparkle.”