Sleigh Ride: A Holiday Novella

by Breezie Bennett

  I smell the trees myself, a woody, Northern, Christmasy scent filling my nose. “Oh shit, these are them. Nice work, Nit Whit.”

  She turns around and gives me a high five, and I grab her hand and pull her in close for another kiss.

  “You know,” I whisper, tucking her hair behind her ear as I slide my other hand down her back. “We accomplished our task pretty quickly.”

  She bites her bottom lip and looks up at me, passion and love glinting in her eyes. “Mm-hmm. And what exactly are you getting at, Chase Kennedy?”

  I reach down and grab her rear end with both hands, lifting her up so she wraps her legs around me.

  We both laugh as I kiss her again, holding her up and stumbling to find a bench or a table or really any surface.

  “I love you so much,” I mumble, kissing down her neck as I set her on a stone sign with some writing about the trees on it.

  She melts into me. “I love you, too, babe.”

  I slip my hands under her shirt, and she laughs, wildness and joy seeming to bubble in her chest.

  “Are we really about to…” Whit asks breathlessly, running her hand through my hair. “Right here?”

  “We didn’t just sneak in here to find our trees and go, did we?” I give her a wink and a half smile.

  “You are something else, you know that?”

  As things get hot and heavy on the tree information sign, everything else starts to fade away in the background, and I couldn’t be happier about it.

  Until suddenly, a blaring bright light shines directly on us.

  My heart jumps, and I grab Whitney tight, glancing over and squinting into the beam of light.

  She gasps, and we look at each other, barely able to process what’s happening.

  “Hey!” an angry, deep voice shouts from around the corner.

  “Oh shit!” Whitney says, frantically climbing off the ledge and fixing her clothes.

  “Fuck,” I whisper, turning to find a man in a security uniform wielding some sort of industrial-grade flashlight.

  “What do you two think you’re doing?” he yells, the voice and footsteps coming closer.

  Whitney and I look at each other quickly, silently and mutually freaking the hell out.

  In a split-second decision, I hold her gaze. “Let’s go.”

  I grab her hand, and we race through the gardens, adrenaline surging through me.

  I squeeze my wife’s hand and guide her through the maze of trails, decorated with hanging bunches of flowers and crawling vines and every tree you could ever imagine.

  “Hey!” Security Guy shouts again.

  We look at each other, both trying to catch our breath as we round a corner and slow down.

  “Babe, you’re, like, really famous. Shouldn’t we just…” She pants and leans her hands on her knees. “Try to reason with him?”

  “Whit, I sat on the bench all of last season because of my shoulder. I’m not risking any kind of trouble.”

  She glares at me, pushing her messy hair back. “Then why the hell did we sneak into the gardens?”

  “Fuck,” I whisper. “The tree branches. The pine. We didn’t get any.”

  I can hear footsteps getting louder. “Stop right where you are!”

  “We gotta go.” Whitney grabs my hand, and we race toward the entrance where we had originally made this questionable decision and hopped the fence.

  With the sweet, sweet fence in sight, we pick up our pace.

  Once we reach it, I lift Whitney and help her over the top, where she drops down onto the other side and jumps with victory.

  I climb over it swiftly, landing on my feet.

  We look at each other for a second, both breathing heavily, and erupt in laughter.

  I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight, her slender shoulders shaking against me with breathless laughter.

  Whit pulls out her phone and checks the time. “Shit. It’s almost ten. Christmas Eve is tomorrow, and all we’ve done is almost have illegal garden sex.”

  “It’s okay.” I put my arm around her as we walk back to my car. “We’ll figure something out.”

  Whitney stops in her tracks, squinting at her phone with a slight gasp. “Oh my God.”

  “What?”

  “Frankie just texted me that she and Jessica have been stuck at the top of a Ferris wheel for three hours.”

  “Holy shit.” I shake my head. “Well, at least we’re not the only ones who’ve kinda fucked up.”

  “We gotta make this right. For Coach.” Whitney furrows her brow.

  “We will, I promise. It’s Christmas. And everything always works out on Christmas.”

  Seven

  Jessica Danes

  “I actually think I’m getting used to being up this high.” Frankie puffs out a breath and leans back, Sammy sleeping in her arms.

  “I guess this is it,” I say with a shrug. “Might as well just take up residence and start a life up here, because we sure as hell aren’t getting down.”

  “Any more word from the guys? I managed to send a text to Whitney and fill her in, but I lost service right after that.”

  I wave my phone in the air in a desperate attempt to get another glimmer of cell signal. I had some about an hour ago and used it to send a frantic text to Elliot, although by that time they already knew what was going on and have evidently been trying to get help.”

  “I’m hungry,” Asher whines.

  “Shhh,” I tell him, too drained and stressed to even attempt to channel a funny joke or loving reassurance.

  He lowers his voice to a whisper and leans close to my ear. “I’m hungry.” He’s barely audible now, and I can’t help but laugh.

  “Soon, buddy, I promise. We all want to get down as badly as you do.”

  Asher points at the knocked-out two-year-old in Frankie’s lap. “Not Sammy. Sammy likes it, I think.”

  Frankie sighs. “The guy shouted to us that the fire department was on their way to get us down. That was, what?”

  I glance at the clock on my phone. “Hour and a half ago.”

  “Can’t they just start the ride back up and get us down? It has to be fixable.”

  I push some flyaway curls behind my ears. “It’s totally broken down. Could be even more hours. All these things are run by computers, so if the system is broken or down…who knows?”

  “True that.” Frankie strokes Sammy’s wispy curls. “I’m almost used to the swaying in the wind. Almost.”

  “If we’re stuck here all night, I swear to God. It’s after ten! And tomorrow morning we have to be on the beach to help set everything up for the sleigh ride.”

  “I wonder how everyone else is doing.” Frankie taps her phone screen. “Lost signal again.”

  Asher shakes his shoulders and bounces in the metal seat. “I’m up past my bedtime! I’m up past my bedtime!” he sings.

  I peer over the rail of the swaying car, squinting to try to identify any of the ant-sized people scurrying around on the ground.

  The whole park is lit up in Christmas lights, twinkling and sparkling as far as we can see, even from up here. Artificial snow is floating through the air in parts of the park, and a giant Christmas tree illuminates everything around it.

  “Oh God,” Frankie groans. “Springsteen. Again.”

  I laugh and drop my head into my hands as Bruce Springsteen’s version of Santa Claus Is Coming to Town starts up for what feels like the thousandth time.

  “Wait a second…” Frankie peers over the railing. “Is that them?”

  I lean over carefully and see two man waving their arms. Judging by their size in comparison to everyone else, there’s a good chance they’re Elliot and Leo.

  “Yes!” I exclaim. “It is. Good. Now someone around here hopefully will listen to them and get us down at least before midnight.”

  “God, I hope so,” Frankie says under her breath. “Do they have a reindeer with them? Or a sleigh?”

  I bite my lip and arch a brow a
t her. “Nada.”

  “If we go through all this and don’t even get the Christmas stuff…” She shakes her head and laughs sarcastically.

  I try waving back at the guys, but I’m not sure if they can see me. I’m not even a hundred percent sure it’s them.

  “Attention!” A voice from a microphone blasts through the air and makes us jump. “Please remain calm, and we thank you for your patience. We will be assisting every park patron down from the Ferris wheel as it starts to run again.”

  “Run again?” Frankie looks at me nervously.

  The booming man’s voice continues. “We are so sorry you’ve all been stuck up on the wheel, and we will be getting you down as safely and efficiently as possible.”

  I see a couple of firetrucks rolling into the park.

  “Oh God.” Frankie holds a hand to her mouth and gasps softly.

  “What? What is it?” I feel my nerves spike before I even know why.

  “You don’t think…” She looks back down at the firetrucks and then at me. “You don’t think they’re going to ask us to climb down a ladder, do you?”

  I swear my heart does a somersault. “No way. No, there’s no chance.” I take a deep breath and already feel my palms prickle a little.

  “We’re a hundred and fifty feet up!” Frankie’s voice wavers with nerves.

  “I don’t think firetruck ladders go that high.”

  “You’re right.” She takes a slow, shaky breath. “Definitely not.”

  “We’re good. We’re fine.”

  Suddenly, the sound of a whirring motor vibrates through the air, and the Ferris wheel slowly starts to move the slightest bit.

  We gasp and cheer and laugh with relief, hearing everyone else do the same.

  “Please exit the cars quickly.” The man’s voice orders. “And we hope everyone has a very Merry Christmas!”

  My heart soars as we finally reach the blessed ground, and I help Asher out.

  “Daddy!” He runs full speed at Elliot and leaps into his arms.

  “Oh my God.” Leo and Elliot jog toward us, Asher hanging from Elliot’s chest like a monkey.

  Leo and Frankie hug and kiss, and Frankie passes Sammy off to his dad.

  “That…” I take a deep breath and steady myself. “Was terrifying.”

  Leo wraps his arms around his wife and gives me a smile. “As happy of a moment as this is, we gotta run. All of us.”

  “What’s the rush?” I ask.

  “Did you get the reindeer?” Asher bounces on his toes after Elliot sets him back down on the ground. “Can I see him? Can I pet him? What’s his name? Does he—”

  “Yes, buddy.” Elliot pats his head. “We got the reindeer.”

  “Well…” I look around slowly. “Where is he? How’s it all going to work?”

  “And what about the sleigh?” Frankie leans away and looks back and forth between Leo and Elliot. “Did you get it? How is it going to fit in the car?”

  “Whoa.” Leo holds up a hand and gives a low laugh. “All of your questions will be answered, I promise. But none of this can happen if we don’t get home and make a fat donation to the South Florida Animal Refuge before midnight.”

  Confused, Frankie and I glance at each other, shrugging in unison.

  “Let’s go!”

  Artificial snow flurries around us as we rush to the front gates, lights twinkling as far as the eye can see and bells jingling at every turn.

  The first few notes of Springsteen start blasting through the park again as we make our way to the exit, but this time, I don’t mind it so much.

  This will sure as shit be a Christmas I never forget.

  Eight

  Kendall Smoke

  “We, like, completely and totally lucked out.” I lean back against the kitchen counter, savoring the cool and beautiful Butterfly Blue granite I installed after Andre and I moved into my beachside dream house last year.

  “No kidding,” he says with a laugh, wrapping his arms around my waist and planting a kiss on the top of my head.

  “Everyone else is out scrambling around to find these crazy items to set everything up. And we…” I gently run my finger along his lip, admiring the glimmer in those hazel eyes.

  “We just have to show up with a bottle of liqueur that I’ve had since I first became a Rider.” He squeezes my sides, tickling me a little. “So…damn…” He kisses my neck. “Lucky.”

  I giggle and melt into his massive, loving arms. “I guess we should probably check up on everyone else.” I slide my phone out of my pocket, but before I have a chance to unlock it and check my notifications, Andre snatches it and sets it on the kitchen island behind us.

  “Nope,” he says sternly. “You’ve got your checklist, your to-do list, your spreadsheet, whatever else…”

  “Shut up.” I bite back a laugh.

  “Everyone is out doing their jobs. And ours…” He walks to the other end of the kitchen, opening the high cabinet above the fridge—the cabinet only he can reach—and pulls out the bottle of maple liqueur. “Ours is done.”

  “Let me see it.” I walk over, running a hand along his shirtless back and wondering if I’ll ever get used to having the world’s sexiest man walking around the house with no shirt on.

  “Here.” He hands me the glass bottle. “Never opened it.”

  “Good thing,” I say, turning it over to study the label.

  It’s a clear bottle with liquid the same exact color as syrup. It moves a little slower, thicker than normal liqueur. There’s a shiny, gold maple leaf etched on the front with the words Addison Grove, Vermont.

  “Addison Grove,” I whisper, running my finger along the intricate design. “That’s where Coach is from?”

  “Originally, yeah.”

  I glance up at him and smile. “That sounds even colder than Oklahoma.”

  “I’m sure it is. Good old Oklahoma.” Andre takes the bottle back and sets it on the countertop, looking out at our expansive view, the stars and moon of the night sky dancing on the surface of the swaying canal.

  “You ever miss it?” I turn and stand next to him, looking out the sliding glass doors.

  He looks down at me and winks. “I miss you trying to hide your soul-shattering crush on me every time I came over to chill with your brother.”

  I stick my tongue out and lightly punch him in the arm. “Rude.”

  “Hey, it all worked out.” He leans down and kisses me, smiling against my lips and taking a handful of my hair. “I’m all yours now.”

  I kiss him back, and he lifts me up to my tippy-toes, filling my head with a floaty sensation. “Only took me…what? Twenty years?”

  He kisses me again. “Something like that.”

  I give in to the familiar and now welcome feeling that Andre gives me…losing control and being completely okay with it.

  “Now…” He picks me all the way up, and I wrap my legs around him, folding into his warm embrace. “Since we’ve completed our task…”

  “Mm-hmm.” I laugh and hold him tighter.

  “We have some time to kill.”

  “I should really…” I take a shaky breath as he kisses down my neck. “Check up on everyone else.”

  “They’re fine.” Andre gently pulls my hair and spins me around, making me laugh. “Melody’s got it all under control.”

  “You think so?” I whisper, tracing my hands up and down his back.

  “For sure.”

  He carries me back into the kitchen, kissing and touching and making me fall in love all over again for the thousandth time.

  I throw my head back and take a deep breath, letting go and feeling every fiber of my being melt into him.

  Andre holds me tightly and sets my ass on the kitchen counter, kissing me harder and more passionately with every second.

  “What…” I lean back as he smiles and kisses down my chest. “What are you doing?”

  He strokes my chin with his thumb and gives me a teasing wink. “Giving yo
u an early Christmas present.”

  “You’re bad,” I say through a breathless laugh.

  He slides me farther back onto the counter, pushing me against the granite and sending waves of butterflies through me chest.

  “Are we really about to—”

  Crash.

  The sound of glass shattering makes my heart slam as we quickly come flying back to earth.

  Andre jumps back, his eyes widening like a deer in headlights as his jaw practically hits the floor.

  I don’t even have to turn around. I don’t even need to look. There was only one glass thing on this counter that we could have knocked over. That my stupid, oblivious self could have bumped into in the throes of my one careless moment of the day.

  I attempt to take a shallow breath that gets caught in my throat. Andre is stuck frozen, staring at the kitchen floor.

  “Did…” That’s all that manages to slip out of my tight chest. “Was that…”

  He gulps loudly. “Uh-huh.” His voice is barely a whisper.

  “The…” I slide off the counter, my head spinning…and no longer in a good way. “The…” I turn around slowly and reluctantly.

  Light brown liquid pools on the tile floor, surrounded by what looks like a million shards of glass.

  My eyes fall on a big chunk with the gold maple leaf still intact. Barely.

  Something between a gasp and a cry and a weak attempt at words slips out of my throat.

  Andre takes a slow breath, his jaw still slack, as we stand there in silence, staring at the puddle of liqueur that you can only get at a specific place in Vermont that we need for tomorrow to get Coach Watson’s wife to fall in love with him again. No big deal.

  “Well,” he finally manages weakly, resting a hand on my shoulder. “We just went from having the easiest job in the group to having the hardest.”

  I’m hyperventilating silently, unable to take my eyes off of that damn little gold maple leaf. “Babe.”

  “Yeah?”

  I turn to him, feeling like I want to cry or scream or just turn into a puddle like the one on my kitchen floor. “What the fuck are we going to do?”

  He slowly turns his gaze to the clock on the oven. It’s almost midnight. I see wheels turning in his head, but we both know a solution doesn’t really exist.