Cupid Has a Heart-On (The Holidays #2)

by Tara Sivec

  After another five minutes of hopping around on my feet trying to stay warm, I finally see Reggie moving quickly down the sidewalk toward me, holding my backpack I forgot to grab in my haste to get out of his house last night, glaring at me the entire way.

  Shit! The bag! Did he find the ring box inside of it with the key? I am dead meat.

  I swallow thickly, reminding myself that I’m a grown man and a Marine. A sixty-something older man should not put the fear of God into me.

  I open my mouth to say hello when he’s a few feet away, but he immediately cuts me off.

  “Don’t speak. I’ve had to deal with a horny wife and a depressed daughter all day. I’m in no mood for whatever you have to say.”

  With my lips pressed tightly together, I try not to wince when he unzips my bag and reaches his hand inside. I knew I should have asked his permission about Noel moving in with me. Now he’s going to kill me and leave my body in front of the Miller’s, who still haven’t taken their Christmas lights down. I’m going to die next to a giant, blow-up snowman, flailing in the wind.

  “I just want to let you know, I didn’t go snooping through your bag. Your dumbass left it open and something fell out when I kicked it out of the way this morning,” he tells me, rummaging around inside until he finds what he’s looking for and pulls it out.

  My face immediately turns red and feels like it’s on fire, regardless of the subzero temperature right now.

  “Now, I’m a pretty reasonable man…” he begins.

  I contain my hysterical laughter and my need to scream the word BULLSHIT!

  “I try not to judge people before I know them, but THIS…THIS is where I draw the line.”

  He tosses the object at me and I’m so flustered that my reflexes refuse to cooperate and it hits me square in the chest.

  “Have you been drinking milk from another team? Decided you don’t fancy the pink strawberry yogurt anymore and moved on to the manlier blueberry? You’ve got some explaining to do before I make you lactose intolerant.”

  R.I.P. Sam Stocking. He was a good man once, until Don’t Piss Me Off got ahold of him.

  Chapter 7

  Fake Canadia

  Noel

  “Oh my God, is that what you’re wearing?”

  My mother looks me up and down, scrunching her face in disgust at my black leggings, grey knit socks that come up to right below my knees lined with white fur, and an oversized pink hoodie with the words “Coffee keeps me from killing people” printed in black across the chest. My hair is thrown up in a messy bun on top of my head and a spoon piled with cookie dough ice cream is currently shoved in my mouth.

  “I’m sad and I’m eating my feelings. Don’t judge me,” I grumble around the mouthful of ice cream.

  I made the stupid mistake of telling her Sam and I had our first fight and he wasn’t talking to me when she asked if he’d be coming over for dinner tonight. It was unavoidable. As soon as she said his name, I started crying.

  “This is what happens when you aren’t having enough sex. Look at your father and I. We do it all the time, and he’s happy as a clam,” she states proudly while I try not to hurl regurgitated chunks of cookie dough.

  “Is that why he went running out the front door a few minutes ago, in the freezing cold without a coat, when you told him you had plans for him later?” I question.

  “He just got overly excited when I told him what we were doing tonight. He had to go outside to cool off, if you know what I mean.”

  Jamming my spoon back into the gallon-sized container snuggled under my arm, I shovel another bite in my mouth to stop myself from screaming at her to shut up.

  “I mean, he got all hot-and-bothered and needed to get his Willy Wonka under control before anyone saw it,” she adds.

  “Mom, PLEASE! Sometimes my silence isn’t misunderstanding. Sometimes it’s just my brain trying not to explode.”

  I watch as she grabs a stack of folding chairs leaning against the wall in the hallway and starts opening them up and setting them around the living room.

  “Please tell me you and Dad aren’t getting into some sort of exhibitionist shit. I will go live on the streets if that’s the case,” I inform her, moving into the living room and flopping down on the couch while she straightens pillows and rearranges picture frames on the fireplace mantle.

  “I’m having a Valentine’s Day party tonight! It’s going to be so much fun. I invited Margie and since she usually buys her items in bulk, I should get a ton of free hostess gifts,” she tells me excitedly as she plugs in a strand of red heart lights hung across the mantle.

  “First of all, Valentine’s Day is over a week away. Second, what in the hell are you talking about? What hostess gifts?”

  She sets a huge, pink tissue paper heart display in the middle of the coffee table and turns to face me.

  “Well, when you were having lunch with Scheva this afternoon, I took a drive to this place I’ve seen advertised, Seduction and Snacks. Have you heard of it?”

  I do not like where this conversation is going, and instead of getting up and running out of the room like a sane person, my ass has suddenly become glued to the couch and I no longer have feeling in my body from the waist down.

  “It’s this place with a bakery on one side and a sex store on the other. How fun is that?” she asks, not waiting for an answer. “Anyway, one of the owners happened to be there and we got to talking. I might have mentioned having a daughter whose sex life could use a little life support and one thing led to another and now, I’m having a sex toy party here tonight. Best of all, the owner herself is going to host it along with her best friend and co-owner, which is very rare since the company is so big now and they farm these things out to other employees. She just really felt bad about the sad state of your bedroom skills.”

  I sigh, dropping my head to the back of the couch and stare up at the ceiling.

  “You should really go upstairs and change. Freshen up, put on something other than what you wore to bed last night. I heard we’ll be taste-testing lubes and playing party games with vibrators. Isn’t it nice that you and I have such a good relationship that we can do special things like this together?” she asks, hustling out of the living room when she hears the front door open and slam shut.

  Another special thing we could do is sit here in silence and never, ever talk about lube and sex toys together.

  Pushing myself up from the couch and taking one last bite of delicious ice cream, I resign myself to my fate since it’s not like I can ask Sam to get me the hell out of here. He never replied to my text from this morning, and when I finally got the courage to call him, it went straight to voicemail. I’ve been voice-mailed by the one I love and it stings.

  “Fine! I’ll test your stupid lube and play with your stupid vibrators, but I am NOT changing out of my comfy clothes!” I shout to the hallway, just as Sam and my father come into the doorway of the living room.

  My father immediately smacks Sam in the arm.

  “Hey! This has nothing to do with me!” Sam contends, rubbing the spot on his bicep where my father’s handprint is probably now turning red on his skin.

  “You tell her, or I will,” my father growls, putting his hands on his hips and glaring at Sam.

  My heart is thumping wildly in my chest, and even though I’ve been sad and missing him all day, I didn’t realize just how much until right this moment, seeing him standing a few feet away from me in his military cammies, looking like he just stepped off the cover of a hot romance novel.

  “Sam,” I whisper softly, his head whipping in my direction and the irritated look on his face from my father’s smack immediately melts into one of sadness.

  I take a step toward him as he jumps down the single step leading into the living room and rushes over to me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling my body against his.

  We both gasp when the ice cream container I’m still holding gets mushed between us, backing away just enough t
o look down at it and laugh. His laughter is the best sound in the entire world, and dammit if my eyes don’t start filling with tears as I look up at him while moving the container out from between us and setting it down on the edge of the coffee table.

  His hands immediately come up to cup my face and he presses his forehead against mine.

  “I’m so sorry. I was an asshole and I never should have left last night,” he tells me softly.

  I shake my head in disagreement and pull back to look at his face, wrapping my arms around his waist. “No, I’m the asshole. I shouldn’t have let you leave, and I’m sorry this situation sucks. I know you don’t understand and that’s my fault. I need to-”

  “You’re both sorry, fight’s over, and everything is fine. Now, tell her or I will,” my dad interrupts.

  “Tell her what?” Aunt Bobbie asks, coming in from the kitchen with a huge glass carafe filled with pink liquid and setting it down on the coffee table. “I made Bobbie’s Special Boozy Drink. Ten parts booze, one part grapefruit juice.”

  I look back and forth between my dad and Sam and watch them have some sort of silent eye communication thing. That, or they’ve developed weird eye twitches. Or maybe they’re both having a stroke.

  “Tell her what I found in your bag,” my dad reminds him.

  “Was it drugs? It was drugs, wasn’t it? I should probably take those off your hands for safe keeping,” Aunt Bobbie informs him.

  “It wasn’t drugs, and it’s not a big deal,” Sam says with a roll of his eyes, dropping his hands from my face and running them through his short hair nervously.

  My own hands fall from around his waist and I take a step back from him, even though I want nothing more than to launch myself into his arms and continue apologizing to him. I don’t like the looks passing between him and my father and I start to get nervous.

  “It is too a big deal! You’re eating yogurt from the same box!” my father argues.

  “What in the devil is going on in here?” my mother asks, stepping around my father with a plate of pink deviled eggs that look less than appealing to eat.

  “Ask Noel’s gay boyfriend,” my father mumbles.

  “YES! Praise be to God! My prayers have been answered!” Aunt Bobbie cheers, holding her arms up to the sky, palms up, and smiling serenely at the ceiling.

  “I’m not gay! For shit’s sake, Reggie!” Sam complains, quickly turning to look down at me. “I’m not gay, Noel.”

  “I’m pretty sure I already got that memo in the dressing room at the mall right before Christmas. And in Santa’s workshop. And my bedroom, and your car, and my car and your couch and your kitchen table,” I inform him. “Oh, and that one awkward time on the front porch in the middle of a blizzard when we got home from the movies.”

  Sam winks at me. “That was fun. I almost lost an important appendage from frostbite, but still, good times.”

  “So, you’re saying you DON’T need sex toys to spice up your sex life? I can’t believe you kept all of this from me,” my mother whines.

  “You had me at sex toys, Bev.” Sam gives her a thumbs up and my father throws his hands in the air in annoyance.

  “Wait, why does my father think you’re gay?” I question.

  “Because…of THIS!”

  With a great big flourish, my father pulls Sam’s backpack out from behind him and upends it, spilling books all over the floor in the hallway. Sam groans and puts his head in his hands while my mother, Aunt Bobbie, and I all creep slowly toward the pile, all three of us cocking our heads to the side to get a better look at the items on the floor.

  “Pucked Up, Fire in the Hole, Newly Exposed, Seduction and Snacks,” my mother reads the titles aloud. “Oooooh, that last one is about the ladies doing the sex toy party tonight!”

  Going by the half-naked men on all the covers except the seduction and food one, I guess I can see where my father got confused. Even I’m confused.

  “Helena Hunting, Debra Anastasia, Meghan Quinn and Tara Sivec,” Aunt Bobbie states, reading the author names. “Never heard of them. Are they real authors?”

  “One of ’em is from Canada,” my father states, crossing his arms in front of him. “They’re probably all from fake Canadia.”

  “For Fontina’s sake, Reggie, Canada is a real place,” my mother admonishes. “I’ve heard of those authors, they’re definitely real people.”

  “Um, so, you read romance novels. That’s…nice,” I tell him lamely.

  “A lot of guys read romance novels, it’s not that big of a deal,” Sam explains. “The authors are really funny and I’ve gotten some good sex tips from those books. Remember that thing I did when I curled my fingers in your-”

  “I WILL SHOVE EVERY ONE OF THESE BOOKS UP YOUR ASS IF YOU FINISH THAT SENTENCE!” my father bellows.

  “That was a really excellent move,” I whisper to Sam, moving closer to him.

  “It was, wasn’t it?” he whispers back softly. “That was the first night I gave you multiple-”

  “That’s it, bend over!” My father growls, snatching up one of the books and stalking toward us.

  Sam backs away with his hands in the air and my mother snatches the book out of my father’s hand, glancing at the front cover.

  “This one has to be fake. It’s by someone named Katherine Stevens and it doesn’t have a title or a cover. Be honest, Sam, are you really Katherine Stevens, and you’re just pretending to be a Marine when you’re really a romance author?” my mother asks.

  “It’s an advanced reader copy of her book that isn’t out yet,” Sam tells her, grabbing the black and white book without a title out of her hand.

  We all stare at him in silence and he shrugs. “I’m in her fan group on Facebook. Everyone got one. Stop staring at me like that.”

  I watch as Sam quickly scoops up all of the books and shoves them back into his bag, zipping it closed and tossing it into the corner of the living room. My mother and Aunt Bobbie go back to adding more Valentine decorations to the room and my dad stomps away, grumbling under his breath about crazy people.

  Sam gently wraps his hand around my arm and pulls me into the hallway, out of earshot from my mother and aunt. We stand by the front door staring at each other with goofy grins on our faces until he finally closes the distance and kisses me. His warm lips against mine are like a bolt of electricity through my body, and I eagerly wrap my arms around him and pull him close.

  I love this man so much and I need to stop being so neurotic before I ruin everything. His tongue slowly sliding into my mouth and circling around my own tongue makes my toes curl and a blast of heat explodes between my legs. I can feel his hard cock pressing into my stomach, and I smile against his lips, happy to know I didn’t break him last night.

  He slides his hands down to my ass, cupping it and pulling me harder against him, and I try to remember what it was I needed to talk to him about, but all I can think about is getting naked with him as soon as possible.

  The ringing of the doorbell behind us makes us jump apart and laugh, acting like a couple of teenagers getting caught doing something they shouldn’t. Which is pretty much exactly what it’s like a hundred percent of the time living in this house, and reminds me about everything I need to talk to Sam about. We can’t keep living like this or we’ll both lose our minds.

  I open my mouth to tell him we need to talk, but I’m cut off by my mother running down the hall and pushing in between us to get to the door. Sam reaches out and grabs my hand and we take a few steps down the hall so she can open greet whoever it is.

  “Are you ready for some sex and chocolate, Bev?” one of the two women standing on the front porch says to her with a smile.

  “Liz! It’s so nice to see you again. Come in, come in!” my mother excitedly invites them inside, holding the door open wider for the two of them to enter, their arms each filled with a giant blue tote.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve done one of these parties, the pleasure is all mine,” Liz te
lls her with a smile.

  “Get out of my way, bitch ass, this box of sex toys is fucking heavy,” the other woman protests, shoving roughly against Liz’s arm and pushing her into a wall.

  “You’ll have to excuse my friend, Claire. She’s an asshole,” Liz says with a smile to all of us.

  “Oh, this is going to be so much fun!” my mother says with an excited clap of her hands. “Sam, go outside and help bring in all the boxes of dildos!”

  Sam sighs, leaning down to press a quick kiss to my cheek.

  “Words I never thought I’d hear out of your mother’s mouth,” he whispers, giving me a wink before heading outside to help carrying things in.

  “Good Goat Cheese, Noel, go change your clothes. It’s bad enough Sam had to see you looking like this, I won’t subject the dildos to such a mess,” my mother complains before following behind Liz and Claire to help set things up in the living room.

  So, I guess I’ll be fondling sex toys all night instead of talking to Sam or having sex with him. Yay.

  Chapter 8

  You’re a Pussy

  Sam

  “I don’t know what’s happening right now, but my dick is hard and I like it,” Alex whispers from behind me.

  We both stand in the hallway peeking around the corner into the living room where twenty grown women are screaming, laughing, and doing something so strange, I’m not sure exactly what I’m looking at.

  “Why is my sister bent over a folding chair while her best friend slams her hips into Noel’s ass? I’m very uncomfortable right now,” Nicholas, Noel’s older brother, states as he rocks his four-week-old daughter from side-to-side in his arms.

  “I guess it’s a game,” I speak softly, unable to tear my eyes away from the chaos in the living room. “They blow up a condom and their partner has to try to pop it against their ass without using hands. It’s fascinating. Like women in the wild, behaving as if no one is around to see them.”