Her Pretend Christmas Date

by Jackie Lau

  “You’ll get buttercream on your tie if you don’t watch it,” she said as the end of his tie dipped precariously close to the buttercream on the roof.

  She thought he might have uttered a swear word, but she couldn’t be sure. Then, to her surprise, he unknotted his Santa tie and draped it over the back of a chair.

  She swallowed. That simple action had made her hot and bothered.

  “An interesting development,” Dad said. “Baker Number Two is starting to undress.”

  Tom’s cheeks were nearly as red as that royal icing.

  “Dad!” Julie shouted. “Stop talking about this like it’s a sports game.”

  “Ah, Baker Number One is talking back to the judges,” Mom said. “What do you think, Albert? Will this get her in trouble?”

  Julie couldn’t wait for the competition to be over.

  * * *

  “...three, two, one. Time’s up,” Mom said.

  Julie held up her hands. Unfortunately, the gingerbread man she’d been fiddling with immediately toppled onto its back, but otherwise, the gingerbread house was pretty spectacular, given they’d had little idea what they were doing and had to listen to her parents’ commentary for two and a half hours.

  “What is Tom doing on his back?” Mom asked.

  “How did you know that gingerbread man was Tom?” Julie said.

  “It looks like there is a man and a woman, so it’s only common sense. Yes, the reindeer threw me off, but I think it must be you two.”

  “He’s making a snow angel,” Julie said, glad the gingerbread woman hadn’t fallen on top of her companion.

  “Charlotte and Mike!” Mom yelled. “You can come down now.”

  A few seconds later, Julie heard footsteps on the stairs. On their way to the kitchen, Mike and Charlotte picked up a tray, covered in a large plastic container, from the dining room table. They set it next to Julie and Tom’s gingerbread house, and Mike lifted the container with a flourish, revealing...

  What the hell?

  Julie peered at it. It looked like a gingerbread house...sort of? But the roof had collapsed. And what was that giant blue thing?

  “It’s a kraken,” Mike said, answering her unspoken question. “We were going for a steampunk theme.”

  “Ah, so that’s what you were doing,” Mom said. “I did not understand at all.”

  “Perhaps you should have gone for a ‘solid construction’ theme instead,” Julie said to Charlotte, who gave her the middle finger.

  Julie couldn’t help laughing. She and Tom had this in the bag.

  Mom assumed a dignified stance. “Team Two’s gingerbread house clearly wins on presentation.”

  “Agreed,” Dad said. “But which one will taste better? Find out after the break.”

  “What are you doing?” Mom asked. “There are no commercial breaks on Sugar Rush. It’s on Netflix. Contestants, please take a plate and serve us a piece of your creations.”

  Julie grabbed a plate from the cupboard and placed the gingerbread reindeer on it, as well as a single coconut white chocolate snowball and a dollop of buttercream. Charlotte placed most of the kraken on another plate and handed it to their mother.

  Mom broke off a piece of the kraken and chewed thoughtfully. “Not bad, but I don’t think the balance of spices is quite right. What do you think, Albert?”

  “It’s delicious.”

  Julie passed her plate over.

  Mom bit off the reindeer’s head, and her eyes opened wide. “This is even better.” She swiped one of the reindeer’s legs through the buttercream. “Tasty snow, too.”

  “I agree.” Dad had a bite of the snowball.

  They started whispering. Presumably, they were conferring about the winner.

  “Okay, we have come to a decision,” Mom said.

  Julie felt like she ought to hold hands with Tom for this announcement, so she clasped his hand and found it strangely comforting.

  “The winner is Team Two, Julie and Tom!” Dad clapped.

  Julie looked at Tom, and he gave her a small smile.

  We did it!

  When she’d met him more than a month ago, she never would have imagined she and Tom would be able to spend two and a half hours in the kitchen without killing each other, let alone win a competition.

  “Do we get a trophy?” Julie asked.

  “There will be a prize later,” Mom said, “but this is only the first of three challenges.”

  “The first of three challenges?”

  Chapter 7

  “What are these other challenges?” Julie asked, rather afraid of the answer.

  “Don’t worry,” Mom said. “They are shorter than two and a half hours. For the second challenge, you will each make eggnog. This time, your father and I will stay in the living room, so we will not know whose eggnog is whose when we judge.”

  “I think you two”—Julie pointed at her parents—“should be the ones making eggnog. The four of us will be the judges.”

  Charlotte nodded. “Excellent idea.”

  “We’re not prepared to make eggnog,” Dad said.

  “And we’re your elders,” Mom said. “You should respect us.”

  “Combined,” Julie said, “we spent five hours in the kitchen making gingerbread houses under your scrutiny. We really weren’t prepared for that.”

  “What do you think, Mike?”

  Mike shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled. “I think I’d enjoy it if someone else made me eggnog.”

  “Tom?”

  “Whatever Julie wants.”

  “And Julie wants the same thing as me,” Charlotte said. “For once, we agree, so you have to listen to us. You don’t know when this rare occurrence will happen again.”

  “Fine,” Mom grumbled. “I suppose we can do this.”

  “Excellent.” Julie took Tom’s arm. “Let’s sit on the couch and wait for our eggnog.”

  Now that she didn’t have to worry about being distracted from making royal icing or buttercream, she allowed herself to remember the kiss they’d shared in the snow...

  “Kiss, kiss, kiss!” Mom said, clapping her hands.

  What the hell? Was Mom reading her mind?

  This was most disturbing.

  “Mom and Dad installed mistletoe in the doorway,” Charlotte said, smirking.

  Julie looked up, and sure enough, there was mistletoe.

  They definitely couldn’t kiss the way they’d kissed earlier. She was not unleashing that side of Tom here.

  It was for her alone.

  “We’re not kissing in public,” Julie said.

  Charlotte cocked her head and looked at Julie suspiciously. Had Charlotte figured out that Julie and Tom weren’t actually together?

  Well, Julie wasn’t having any of that. She stood on her toes, cupped Tom’s face in her hands, and kissed him. Not a long kiss, but right on the lips.

  “Try to look a little less stunned,” she hissed in his ear, then dragged him toward the couch in the living room. Charlotte and Mike followed. Since there wasn’t a ton of space on the couch, Julie shifted onto Tom’s lap. She heard his sharp intake of breath before he rested his hand on her waist.

  “Alright,” Charlotte said, loudly enough for their parents to hear. “I have no idea how long it takes to make eggnog, but how about half an hour?”

  “It should be at least an hour,” Mom said, “so the eggnog has time to chill in the fridge. It will be better this way.

  “Okay, one hour. Starting...now.”

  There was some noise in the kitchen, followed by shouting.

  “You stepped on my foot!” Mom said. “No running in the kitchen.”

  “You’re hogging the cream,” Dad shot back.

  “I’m not hogging the cream.”

  Julie and Charlotte burst into laughter.

  * * *

  An hour later, each judge was presented with two glasses of eggnog. One was garnished with nutmeg and a cinnamon stick. The other looked slightly less
appetizing.

  “Let’s try the fancy one first,” Julie said.

  Julie, Tom, Charlotte, and Mike each raised a glass to their lips. Julie didn’t immediately taste hers, though. Instead, she turned toward Tom.

  There was something delightful about watching him swallow, even if he’d made his appearance sterner by putting his tie back on—his original tie, not the Santa one. It really didn’t take much to get her going now, did it? How had—

  Tom started coughing violently. “That was...strong.”

  Julie tried a sip.

  “A little heavy on the alcohol,” she declared. “Heavy on the nutmeg, too.”

  Charlotte and Mike agreed with her assessment.

  They each tried the second glass of eggnog.

  “A bit too sweet,” Tom said.

  “I think it’s just the right level of sweetness,” Julie countered.

  In truth, she did find it a bit sweet, but she wanted to be contrary.

  “I think the consistency’s a little off,” Charlotte said, “but to be fair, I’m not sure exactly how thick eggnog is supposed to be.”

  The four of them put their heads together to discuss the winner. Fortunately, they all agreed.

  “Eggnog Two is the winner,” Julie said.

  “See? Substance over style,” Dad said to Mom. “You thought you were all cool with your cinnamon stick, but mine tasted better.”

  Mom sniffed. “Not my fault nobody appreciates a strong drink here.”

  “You know what I think would be best?” Mike picked up the second glass of eggnog and dumped as much as he could into the first, then swirled it around with a cinnamon stick.

  Julie did the same, then had a taste. “I agree. Much better this way.”

  Mom and Dad—after arguing for a little longer—finally decided to combine the pitchers of eggnog, which they brought into the living room along with the two gingerbread houses. Julie helped herself to one of the walls with a stained-glass window and sipped her eggnog. Tom broke off part of the roof, which had been decorated with red and green jellybeans in addition to the buttercream. He picked up a red jellybean, and then, to her surprise, he held it to her lips. She ate it from his fingers.

  If there was no one else around, she would have sucked on his fingertips.

  But as she looked around at her family, she felt a strange sense of warmth. Outside, it was cold and snowy, but in here, there was eggnog, gingerbread, family...and a fake boyfriend to snuggle up with.

  And they’d won a competition today, and her parents had yet to bug her about her career.

  Yes, it was a pretty good Christmas. There was just one thing that could make it better...

  Her phone buzzed. A text from Bridget.

  How’s Christmas with your fake boyfriend? Anything happen yet?

  Well, Julie wasn’t going to mention that she’d kissed Tom. It would give her roommate too much satisfaction.

  She put her phone on silent, set it aside, and looped an arm around her “boyfriend.”

  * * *

  At eleven o’clock, Tom and Julie were upstairs in her childhood bedroom.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a day like this one. Something so chaotic and unexpected.

  But in a good way.

  He certainly didn’t need days like this on a regular basis, but it was Christmas.

  “By the way,” Julie said, “I don’t actually have a present for you. Sorry. I should have bought you something, especially since you got me something thoughtful. I’ll get you a gift when we’re back in Toronto. Not a Santa tie, I promise.”

  He waved this away. “It’s fine. I’m just glad you liked your present.”

  He was glad she’d looked happy throughout the day, too.

  And that she’d spent a full two hours sitting on his lap.

  Well, he wasn’t entirely glad about that. He was rather keyed up, and although he’d done many things he wouldn’t normally do today, jerking off in the washroom at his fake girlfriend’s parents’ house was a step too far for him.

  “You had a good time?” she asked.

  “Yeah, it was...nice.”

  “Such a bland description.”

  He shrugged.

  It was also nice being alone with her now, going over their day as they got ready for bed.

  He pulled his sweater over his head, then removed his tie. He was about to unbutton his shirt when he realized what he was doing.

  He was getting undressed while in the same room as Julie.

  It was like he’d forgotten she was his fake girlfriend. Like he felt comfortable with her in a way he hadn’t last night.

  And if they really were together, maybe tonight he’d be—

  No.

  He had to put such thoughts out of his mind. Kissing her in the snow had been...an aberration. Yes, that was all it was. He wouldn’t let it happen again.

  But she’d sat on his lap, and now she was taking off her own sweater, revealing a camisole underneath.

  He squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them a moment later, he said, “I’m going to shower.”

  “Is that really what you want?” Julie asked.

  He gritted his teeth.

  “I liked what happened outside,” she said. “I liked watching you lose it.”

  He shook his head. “An aberration.” Reminding himself as well as her.

  “You’re not attracted to me?”

  She didn’t usually sound uncertain, and the uncertainty in her voice now—it undid him. Again. He stalked over to her and pushed her up against the wall by the desk.

  And he started kissing her.

  When he finally came up for air and pulled back an inch, there was a mischievous smile on her face.

  This woman. She drove him mad.

  No more flirting. He’d just keep kissing her and wipe that smirk away.

  With his hands against the wall on either side of her head, he devoured her mouth with a need unfamiliar to him. When he ground his hips against her, she gasped, and his hands went to the hem of her camisole. He pulled it over her head and tossed it on the desk. Not the floor—he wasn’t an animal—but he didn’t bother to fold it. Then he unhooked her bra and tossed it on the desk, too.

  The brown tips of her small breasts hardened further due to the cool air...or because she wanted him. He slid his hands down the bare skin on her sides, hissing because he got to touch her like this. He rested his hands on her waist before bringing one peak into his mouth.

  He’d eaten far too much gingerbread and other sweets today, but this was still the best of them all. Having his mouth on her. Feeling her hands grip his hair.

  She started rapidly undoing the buttons on his shirt, like she was desperate to get her hands on him as well.

  A small part of his brain was still functioning, and it was saying something about how this made no sense, he was just supposed to be the proper man whom Julie brought home to meet her family, they weren’t supposed to be getting naked in her childhood bedroom.

  “Julie,” he said, stepping back. “Are we going to...”

  “Fuck?”

  He was rendered speechless. Not that she’d never sworn in his presence before, but hearing that word from her lips right now...

  “Have sexual relations?” she said.

  “Yeah. That. Are we going to?”

  “You can say the word, Tom. Come on, I want to hear you talk dirty to me.”

  This woman was going to be the end of him.

  “Are we going to...fuck?” He wasn’t sure he’d ever spoken like this in his life.

  “If you want to. Yeah.”

  “But it needs to be what you want.”

  “Why do you think I took off my sweater?” She cupped the undersides of her breasts and thrust them upward.

  He sucked her nipple again. Because it was right there, offered to him, and she wanted him to fuck her.

  It was simply logical.

  “The only thing...I have to tell
you...” She was having trouble speaking in sentences, and it was glorious. “Is that we can’t have sex on the bed.”

  He released her nipple. “Why not?”

  “I’ve tried having sex on that bed before, and it’s very loud. Squeaky. So, we’ll have to do it somewhere else. Like on the floor or the chair.”

  He started assessing the different pieces of furniture in the room.

  “Have you only had sex in a bed before?” It sounded like she was teasing him again.

  He didn’t bother answering the question—her suspicions were correct. Instead, he unbuttoned her jeans and slid his hand inside her underwear, pushing a finger into her channel as quickly as he could.

  When he feared she might scream, he covered her mouth with his other hand. He loved her noises, but there were other people in the house.

  He was going to fuck her—er, have sexual relations with her—so well that she forgot to tease him. Forgot everything but his name.

  That was a noble goal, wasn’t it?

  He shoved down her jeans and lacy red underwear. Very festive. Some other time, he might have stopped to admire every inch of her skin, but instead, he put his mouth on her, and she gasped.

  “If you’re going to be loud, I’ll have to stop,” he said.

  She shook her head frantically.

  “Good girl,” he murmured as he shoved two fingers inside her and sucked on her clit.

  She tasted like heaven.

  It didn’t seem proper that he’d gotten to taste so many wonderful things today, even if it was Christmas.

  She bucked against his face, and he liked that she was greedy for him. Liked making her feel off-kilter, as she’d done to him all day.

  Fuck, he was hard.

  When he circled her clit with his tongue again, she stiffened against him and clutched his hair, whispering his name.

  That, perhaps, was the best part.

  “Tom.”

  He scooped her up and set her on the sleeping bag. She lay on her back, legs spread and knees bent, looking like she could think of nothing but having him inside her.

  After he finished undressing, he scrambled for his toiletry case on the desk. He kept condoms in there, even if they were rarely needed, because he always wanted to be prepared. He rolled one on.