Once Upon a Holiday

by Burgoa, Claudia

  Contents

  Once Upon a Holiday

  Also By Claudia Burgoa

  1. June

  2. June

  3. Sterling

  4. June

  5. Sterling

  6. June

  7. Sterling

  8. June

  9. Sterling

  10. Sterling

  11. June

  12. Sterling

  13. Sterling

  14. Sterling

  15. June

  16. Sterling

  17. June

  18. June

  19. June

  20. Sterling

  21. June

  22. June

  23. June

  24. June

  25. Jack

  26. Sterling

  27. Sterling

  28. Sterling

  29. June

  30. Sterling

  31. June

  32. Sterling

  33. June

  34. Sterling

  35. June

  36. June

  37. Sterling

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Excerpts

  Maybe Later

  Then He Happened

  Begin with Me

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also By Claudia Burgoa

  Copyright © 2019 by Claudia Burgoa

  Cover by: By Hang Le

  Edited by: Paulina Burgoa

  Marla Esposito

  Deaton Author Services

  All rights reserved.

  By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on your personal e-reader.

  No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, decompiled, reverse engineered, stored into or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic, photocopying, mechanical or otherwise known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  Except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, brands, organizations, media, places, events, storylines and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, business establishments, events, locales or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, brands, and-or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, of which have been used without permission. The use of these trademarks is not authorized with or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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  www.claudiayburgoa.com

  Also By Claudia Burgoa

  Winter/Spring 2020

  Us After You

  Almost Perfect

  Standalones

  Once Upon a Holiday

  Chasing Fireflies

  Something Like Hate

  Then He Happened

  Maybe Later

  My One Despair

  My One Regret

  Found

  Fervent

  Flawed

  Until I Fall

  Finding My Reason

  Christmas in Kentbury

  Chaotic Love Duet

  Begin with You

  Back to You

  Unexpected Series

  Uncharted

  Unsurprisingly Complicated

  Uncut

  Undefeated

  Unlike Any Other

  Decker the Halls

  For Kristi, I promised you Sterling’s story, but it evolved and took a turn—just like life. It’s just as beautiful as planned, if not more. Love you.

  … and for the mothers who make the impossible to fulfill your dream. I honor you.

  Love never claims, it ever gives. – Mahatma Gandhi

  June

  You know what to do. Beep, the answering machine blares loudly.

  I sigh in frustration. I check the phone number on the website to see that it’s correct. Would it have killed them to include a professional greeting?

  This better be worth it.

  “Good afternoon,” I recite calmly into the phone. “I’m calling on behalf of Juniper Communications and PR.”

  Pausing, I make sure to check the address for the property I found. Multitasking isn’t going well today. It’d be so much better if someone could answer the phone so I could get all the information I need beforehand. And on top of all that, there’s a long list of tasks I have to do before I begin the next chapter of my life.

  Where did this year go?

  I feel like November is over and it only started last week. If I blink, it’s going to be Thanksgiving and I’m not quite ready yet for what comes next. I scribble the address of the property I just found and make a few notes about the restaurants, grocery stores, and amenities nearby.

  Maybe I should search for a gym where I can sign up for a one-month membership. Then, I remember I was leaving a message.

  “Right, so we came across one of your properties and would like more details. Could you please call us at your earliest convenience? Thank you and have a wonderful day.”

  I hang up the phone and take another look at the house online, clicking through each picture. This is perfect for what I have planned. I can’t imagine anything more fitting than this as I read through the amenities again. Two-bedroom house with a spacious kitchen and a cozy family room with a built-in fireplace. Only a five-minute walk from shops and restaurants. What better place to take a hiatus while I decompress, relax, and work on my new life?

  Now if only they'd call me back so I can lease this sucker.

  My cell phone rings a couple of minutes later. I check the caller ID which reads The Art of Real-State. Good, at least they’re fast at getting back.

  “Juniper Communications, how can I help you?”

  “Did you just call requesting information about one of our properties?” a husky male voice asks.

  And fuck if it isn’t sexy. It’s powerful and commanding. Not that I like to be ordered around but I could listen to it all day. It’s a voice to sink in as it wraps you up. I move my mouse around the screen, bringing back the house in question.

  “Yes, that was me.”

  “May I suggest next time you don’t leave a long pause and maybe focus on giving a phone number, a name, and the property you’re calling about.”

  Well, aren’t we grouchy today? The hot as fuck voice just lost all my interest.

  “Caller ID exists and, obviously, you were able to call back,” I explain and continue before he can rant about something else. “Anyway, I’m talking about the house located on Detroit Street. In fact, I filled out the application, but I have a few questions before we can move forward.”

  “The property is no longer available, thank you for your inquiry,” he says and hangs up the phone.

  I frown. What the hell?

  My shoulders slump because the cute house in the middle of the city isn’t available. He didn’t even let me ask if they had any other properties around the area. What kind of business does this company run?

  I could let well enough be but what if the new occupants won’t be moving in until January? Maybe it is available for the month of December. I just need it for thirty-one days.

  “Yo,” he answers.

  What is he, seventeen? Maybe he’s someone’s son and he’s helping his mom. Nope, that voice belongs to someone older, maybe hotter.

  Those hormones I’m taking are m
aking me horny. Calm down, deep breaths. He might look like Tommy Lee Jones and not Jake Gyllenhaal.

  “Can I speak with a customer service representative or a manager?” Someone capable?

  “How can I help you?” he asks and by his snippy tone, it’s obvious that he’s run out of patience.

  “Look, I just need a house for the month of December. Do you have anything available around the same area?”

  “Maybe?” he answers. “But not for just a month.”

  Okay, so this guy might be some intern and needs a little training. That’s fine, I can work with him.

  “Would you mind telling me what you have available? My client might be interested if the property and the price are right.”

  I hear a chuckle and some movement. “What’s your email address, sweetheart?”

  Promptly, I answer with the general email address, spelling every letter to ensure he doesn’t miss it.

  “Is that z as zebra or c as car?”

  I tighten the hold of my phone because seriously how can the c of communications be z as zebra?

  “It’s c as in clown,” I reply at his stupid question.

  “Got it, lady,” he says. “I’ll send you a link with the property. You can check it out and send us an email if you have any further questions.”

  Without saying another word, the fucking asshole hangs up on me. I laugh because if he wants to be difficult, I’ll show him difficult. I open the email and click on the link. The house is breathtakingly beautiful. The entrance looks like a tower of a castle. I read the description, Estate in coveted Old Cherry Hills.

  Well, I definitely don’t want an estate. This is huge for little old me.

  Eight bedrooms, ten bathrooms, recently remodeled home. Main level gourmet chef’s kitchen.

  Where else could they have the kitchen? The brands of the appliances are fancy. There’s a pool and a guesthouse. Why would I want any of that? Luxurious master suite features his and her closets, a sitting area and a pristine white marble bathroom with a stand-alone tub and steam shower. Oversized bedrooms with walk-in closets.

  Well, yeah, it’s gorgeous and the exterior grounds are marvelous, what with the pool, the hot tub … why do I want a wine cellar when I won’t be able to drink? I tilt my head imagining driving around the circular driveway. Custom built-in bookcases.

  This is stunning. If I were to move in there for the rest of my life and have a family … I sigh because there’s so much to do before I can get to the point of having a house full of children.

  I read his email one more time but the only thing he sent is the link. There’s no information about the monthly rent or if it’s available just for one month. So, I call again and there’s no answer. Instead of leaving a message I hang up and call again, and again, and again until he answers.

  “Did your parents ever teach you how voicemails work?” he growls. “You leave your name, number, and a detailed message after the beep.”

  “You don’t say,” I reply sarcastically. “And then what happens?”

  “You wait until the person you’re trying to reach calls you back. Dialing the fucking phone twenty times is inconsiderate. I have work to do,” he says rudely.

  “May I speak with your supervisor?”

  “I’m the only person available at the moment, how can I help you, Ms. Juniper Communications? And make it fast because unlike you, I. Am. Busy.”

  “Are you sure you don’t have anything smaller?” I ask calmly. “I don’t care if it’s in a different area. This house is too big for what we need. It could fit my entire family and we’re talking about eight adults and two children. My client is going alone. A mansion is overkill. But I’ll tell you what, if this is our only option, we’re willing to negotiate.”

  “Excuse me?” he barks the question and if it wasn’t rude, I’d admit it makes me hot.

  “Actually, what’s the price to rent it for only one month?”

  “Look, lady, this is the only property that’s currently available in the Denver metropolitan area.”

  “That doesn’t answer my other questions. The price and the length of the lease. I just need it for one month.”

  “Let me be clear, we’re not Airbnb.” He pauses. “There, I just emailed you the link for their website because it seems that you’re looking for a property that you can lease as a hotel. Now, if you like our property on Viking Lane, I recommend you read our company’s policies and terms. They are on our website. It’s a standard twelve-month lease. We require a two-month deposit and first month’s rent. And, in case you’re wondering, we don’t make any exceptions. Fill out the application online.”

  He hangs up on me—again.

  The stupid voicemail picks up again and I’m done with the guy, so I just leave a message. Maybe tomorrow the manager or someone more competent will answer the phone. “We have a very important client who only wants this property for the month of December. Is there a way you can make an exception? We’d be happy to do something for you in return. We are a public relations company, after all. Wouldn’t you prefer to have free positive publicity? You could be leasing this place by the end of January at a higher price just because we used you. We’d like to move forward only if you’d be more amenable to our terms.”

  If this doesn’t work, I’m not sure what I’m going to do. Look for a different doctor here in San Francisco? Nope, this clinic in Denver is one of the best in the nation and they’re cheaper. My insurance doesn’t cover the procedures.

  I call the clinic to confirm my appointment for next week. If I’m lucky, maybe I can see the house and rent it. I only have a month to get everything settled. One month off and if all goes well with the buyer, I’m selling Juniper Communications and …now my phone’s ringing. It’s the asshole or hopefully someone competent.

  “Hello?”

  “Look, lady, you seem like a smart person. So, let’s be clear. I don’t bend shit unless it’s in the name of art, not rules. If you’re interested, I like to bend beautiful, willing women on a flat surface so I can fuck them hard. I can show you anytime you want. If your client is as important as you presume, I’m sure they could pay the full year without batting an eyelash.”

  “You should be fired,” I complain. “In fact, I’ll make sure to leave a poor review on your website. What’s your name?”

  “Have a good day, lady.”

  The fucking nerve, seriously, who does he think he is?

  June

  You know that distracted friend who trips gracefully, loses her shit more often than not, and yet seems to be well put together?

  In my circle of friends, that’s me, Juniper Spearman.

  Not to push some dirt on said friend, but if she’s anything like me she’s far from perfect.

  Let’s focus on me. People think I have my life together, but I just fake it. They think they can count on reliable June. Because June knows everything. (I have Google at the tip of my fingers if I don’t). She’s always ready. (Not really, I just carry everything in case I have to use it.)

  Ha!

  What they don’t know is that I’m just your average thirty-three-year-old.

  There’s no magic, tricks, or secrets to my so-called life.

  Seriously, the side no one sees is so much different.

  Then add the list of mishaps I have to deal with every single day. There’s not a dull moment when people are around me. And I use my anecdotes as a way to keep my family in the loop and yet away from what’s really happening to me.

  “We already told you everything about our new place,” Jeannette, my twin sister says, taking her phone back.

  She just showed me the house she and her wife, Teagan, bought a month ago—in Hawaii. I wish I had something as cool as that or the pictures of my three-month-long honeymoon like them. I only have work stories.

  “What’s happening with you?” she asks.

  This is already weird. Jeannette and I were super close. We used to have a great twin connection and c
alled each other every day. Last year, things between her and Teagan got serious. Then, they got married.

  Now I’m an afterthought. And she wants to know what’s happening with me …

  Which is okay but weird—and lonely.dMy life is going through a big change too but I’m not ready to tell her or my brothers so I use my latest tale to keep my life from her.

  “So, check this out,” I say. “At the airport I had one of those, you grabbed the wrong luggage moments. It was an accident—not my accident though. The couple in front of me grabbed my bag. It’s okay, I get it. Everyone has a black rolling bag. Everyone.”

  “You don’t have it marked?” Jeannette asks surprised.

  I roll my eyes. “Of course, I do, can you not interrupt? So, I’m waiting for it and I’m already searching for my ticket because for sure I thought it’d be on its way back to Toronto. It wasn’t until this lady screamed, ‘These aren’t mine. Whose underwear is this, Leopold?’”

  I lift my napkin waving it the same way the lady from the airport did with my stuff as I continue my story. “This woman flaunts my favorite pair of lacy black panties like an enemy flag for everyone to see it. Needless to say, the entire flight from Toronto to Denver plus the airport employees had their attention toward this lady—and my intimates.”

  Jeannette and Teagan are already laughing at this point.