Be My Christmas Treat : A BWWM Christmas Romance

by Nia Arthurs

  Waltzing in with a handsome face and a couple sweet-sounding lines may be enough to fool Maxine. Of course, she’s invested so much of her life into this relationship. And he’s the father of two—now three—treasured children.

  But those blinders aren’t on my eyes.

  I’ll be watching Levonte closely.

  “I’m ready,” Maxine says, gliding out of her bedroom in a fancy blouse and tight jeans.

  My eyebrows hike. “Isn’t this just breakfast?”

  “Come on, Clark.” Max rolls her eyes. “I always dress like this.”

  “Right…”

  “You look stunning, Maxi.” Levonte gives her a slow, appreciative look. “Gorgeous.”

  My sister grins just as brightly as Moe and Tan.

  “Let’s go, daddy!” Moe hauls on Levonte’s arm.

  “Alright, sweetie.” He holds her hand and walks her to the door. Tanisha clasps his other hand and clings tightly to his dark fingers, her chin tilted up in total awe.

  “You sure you don’t want to join us, Clark?”

  I stare at my sister. “No, you guys have a good time.”

  “Alright.” She offers me a tight-lipped smile and then leaves with Levonte.

  The moment the lock clicks shut, silence rains over me.

  Levonte swept in like a whirlwind and took my little family with him. My chest twinges just a little. It seems like jealousy, but I’m not that petty, am I?

  Maybe a little.

  Uneasy in my own skin, I fix the sofa bed back into its usual form and take a shower. The silence chews away at me until it sounds like a million buzzing bees in my ear.

  I’m too used to Moe screaming at Tanisha over the television. Maxine yelling at them both to stop fighting or else. The girls quietly continuing the fight until their mother gives them the evil eye again.

  I love the chaos.

  I live for the noise.

  The quiet’s never felt peaceful to me.

  With a sigh, I get dressed and reach for my phone.

  At that moment, it brightens with a call.

  Mave.

  I scoop it up and answer urgently, “Hello?”

  “Hey, Clark. I was wondering if you were—”

  “Yes.”

  He pauses. Confusion creeps into his voice. “You didn’t let me finish.”

  “Whatever it is, yes. Just get me out of this house.”

  Without missing a beat, Mave says firmly, “I’m on my way.”

  16

  Mave

  Sunshine bathes the street in gold. Tall trees with spindly branches grow beneath the watchful eye of skyscrapers, as if concrete and glass are daring nature to overtake them.

  It’s a gorgeous day.

  No snow. A slight chill to the air.

  A few joggers zip past on the sidewalk, their faces flushed and their feet thumping to the beat of whatever music’s in their headphones. Cars chug by. Cyclists zoom on their bikes.

  The world turns at a sleepy, Sunday-morning pace.

  I glance at Clark as she marches rigidly beside me. She’s dressed in a simple white T-shirt and blue jeans. A low-maintenance kind of gorgeous.

  Nothing like the models I’m used to entertaining.

  Girls with layers and layers of makeup caked on their faces, hiding their true emotions beneath stilted smiles and forced giggles. Scrawny bodies carefully crafted with diets, sophisticated exercises and surgeries.

  Girls who constantly take out their makeup cases. Who primp in the grocery store. Who snap pictures in every patch of sunlight they can find.

  But that’s not Clark.

  She seems to have no idea how stunning she looks. Or maybe she knows but doesn’t really care.

  There’s something refreshingly honest about Clark’s beauty and it intrigues me.

  Who the hell am I kidding?

  Everything about her intrigues me.

  It’s not just her looks.

  It’s the way she carries herself, all straight and tall even though she’s short enough to struggle when reaching for the top shelf. It’s her earnest love for Christmas, outmatched only by her fierce love for her family.

  She’s warmth and joy personified.

  What would it be like to have her to myself? What would it be like to have a woman like that love a man like me?

  My chest starts aching.

  I can’t stop staring at her. The way her light brown skin hits against that crisp white makes my blood pump faster in my chest. And the way those fitted jeans hug her hips—

  Damn. I need to touch her.

  You’re just friends, Mave.

  The lies we tell ourselves.

  The kiss was all I could think about last night. My body practically hummed to a different frequency every time her face popped into my head.

  We set a time to meet yesterday, but my impatience got the best of me.

  I had to see her. Several hours earlier than we agreed.

  “He’s up to something,” Clark huffs angrily.

  The ‘he’ in this angry spiel is Levonte, her sister’s ex. I know this because it only took one tiny nudge and a ‘what’s wrong?’ for the words to come spilling out of her.

  She’d carried on throughout the car ride and I couldn’t do much more than ‘hm’ and nod and agree that a guy I’ve never met is the scum of the earth.

  “He showed up out of the blue and now he thinks he’s Father of the Year?” Her slender arms rise and fall. Like a dance.

  It’s at once graceful and threatening.

  “Maybe if this were the first time, I’d cut him some slack. I’m not a heartless beast you know,” Clark snaps, her steps sharp and thudding.

  She’s wearing leather thong sandals. Her toenails are painted a soft shade of blue.

  I don’t know why, but it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

  “I’m not being judgmental. These are just the facts. He’s a terrible person and he was probably born that way.”

  “That’s a little excessive, isn’t it?” I wrap my fingers around her shoulder and steer her out of the way of an uncovered manhole.

  Why would they leave that open in the middle of the street? Someone could get hurt.

  The furious woman barely registers my touch. “He’s never there when she needs him. Like the day Moe was born. There were a lot of complications and the doctors weren’t sure if either she or Maxine would make it. Do you know what Levonte was doing while my sister was in excruciating pain?”

  I glance ahead. Notice a cyclist spinning towards us. Holding Clark again, I swerve her to the other side of me and nod as the guy pedals past. “What?”

  “He was sleeping! That bastard.” She punctuates the phrase with a karate chop to the air. “He conked out because he was ‘exhausted’, and my sister struggled alone until he woke up and held her hand for the delivery.”

  “Maybe he really was tired.”

  She cuts me a look that’s sharper than a knife.

  I backpedal immediately. “I meant, he’s everything that’s wrong with this world. Should I hire a guy to get rid of the problem?”

  “Would you?” Her eyes fill with hope and she clasps her fingers together, tucking them under her chin like a child in prayer.

  I laugh softly. “Clark, you’ve been ranting about Levonte since we left your place. Why are you so bothered by him?”

  “He’s with my sister and the girls right now.”

  “You mentioned that.” I lift one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “But isn’t he the father? It’s not illegal to take your kids out for breakfast.”

  “Breakfast doesn’t mean crap.”

  I frown. “Clark…”

  “The girls aren’t babies anymore, Mave. They’re old enough to know when they’re being played. Levonte shows up when and how he wants to. He makes lavish promises and doesn’t follow through.”

  “I know, but—”

  She steps in front of me, her chin tilted up and fire in her eye
s. “Do you have any idea how crushed Moe was the first time her daddy missed a dance recital? We tried everything to cheer her up, but she just kept glancing at the door, waiting for a man who didn’t think she was important enough to make the effort.”

  “I’m not saying I agree with him, Clark.” I sigh lightly. “It’s just…”

  “What?” Her eyes flare with challenge.

  “Did you ever think that… you’re so upset because you feel like he’s taking your sister and nieces away from you?”

  “What?” She sputters. “That’s ridiculous!”

  “If Levonte steps in, you’re scared he might replace you in their lives. And that’s a terrifying thought because the only thing you treasure more than your own survival is your sister and those little girls.”

  “I do love my family, but you’re wrong. That’s not the problem at all. Levonte is a jerk and that’s all it is.” She shoves a finger in my chest.

  I capture her pointer with my fist. “Does your voice always climb at the end when you feel guilty?”

  “It does not!” She squeaks.

  I drop my arm around her because she’s too damn cute and not touching her is impossible. My palm rests in the dip of her waist and I pull her closer to me. As short as she is, she still fits perfectly against my side.

  To my surprise, Clark doesn’t call me out on the embrace. She meets my eyes and says, “I don’t have issues. I’m a well-adjusted, well-rounded individual.”

  “When was the last time you had any fun?” I steer her toward the restaurant.

  “Yesterday.”

  “What did you do?” I open the door for her and glance down, my eyebrow arched knowingly. “Kissing me doesn’t count.”

  She smacks me. “I wasn’t going to say that.”

  “Yeah, you were.” I grin confidently.

  “I told you to forget that kiss ever happened.” She smacks me again and follows me inside. “And yesterday, I went to the club.”

  “No. You walked inside, got spooked and left.”

  “It counts.” Her brown eyes flash as she counts on her fingers. “I had to shower, shave, brush my hair, do my makeup and choose an outfit. Going somewhere doesn’t just happen in a second. I count the prep period too.”

  I drop my fingers to the small of her back as I guide her to the table reserved for us. “Before yesterday then. When was the last time you had fun?”

  Her eyes roll thoughtfully to the ceiling.

  A beat passes.

  Two.

  “You can’t think of one, can you?”

  “Sh. I’m… it’ll come.”

  “Clark, Levonte skipping out on his kids is one thing, but your response to it is another. This problem might go deeper than you realize.” I pull out her chair for her. “It’s just a thought.”

  “Since when did you become Dr. Phil?” She pouts.

  The expression practically begs me to stare at her lips.

  Today, she’s wearing her usual clear lip-gloss. No stain your body red lipstick on her mouth this time. But it honestly doesn’t matter because my pants still tighten at the sight.

  My body couldn’t care less what color Clark’s mouth is.

  As long as it’s Clark.

  I’ve officially lost my mind for the second time in twenty-four hours.

  She folds her arms over her chest and tilts her head. “Mave.”

  “What?”

  “I told you to stop looking at me like that.”

  I clear my throat. “Don’t change the subject. We were talking about you.”

  “Let’s talk about you for a change.” Clark gathers her hair and mindlessly twists it all to her left shoulder. Sunshine caresses the slope of her elegant neck and the soft curve of her chin. “What are you going to do about the bakery’s dining-in problem?”

  “It’s only been a few weeks.” My words come out unsure because watching her is distracting and I can’t multitask.

  “Yet we’ve seen a sharp drop in the number of customers who eat-in.” She tilts her head, her eyes drilling into me. “We need to fix it.”

  “You’re blaming the drop on the lack of Christmas decorations?”

  She grabs her menu, perusing it intently. “You said it, not me.”

  “There’s not enough data to determine a trend.”

  “Those are a lot of fancy words just to say ‘don’t question my methods even if they suck’.”

  My lips quirk up. “Tomorrow, I’ll be implementing a new online marketing strategy as well as doing some research on the ground.”

  “In other words, you’ll throw up a few pictures on a social media page and snoop around our competitor’s coffee shop? Haven’t you been doing that all along?”

  I lean forward, my eyes intent on her. “Were you always this upfront?”

  “You must bring out the worst in me.” She slaps her menu closed. “Do you really think you’re tackling the heart of the problem?”

  “You’re going to bring up the Christmas decorations again, aren’t you?”

  “Not just that.” She rests her chin on her fist. “Christmas cookies.”

  My heartbeat stalls. “No.”

  “It’s the one edge the bakery has over everyone else. No one else has a product that tastes like yours. That’s the secret weapon.”

  “We’re not baking those.”

  “Why?” She throws her arms up in frustration. “No matter how hard I think about it, I really don’t understand your decision.”

  “Just trust that I have one.”

  “If you haven’t noticed,” she gestures to herself, “trust isn’t exactly the easiest thing for me to do. Why do we even need to argue about this? The most logical thing to do is to make more of those cookies. Not less.”

  “We need to make more cookies, Mave.” Mom’s words shoot to the forefront of my mind. “So many people look forward to having them.”

  “You’re just going to give them away for free?”

  “They’re not for free.” She bops my nose. “Every smile I get when someone bites into my cookies is worth a fortune. I can’t even put a price tag on it.”

  My fingers dig into the table.

  “Why do you love these cookies so much?”

  “Because I made them with my mother and now, I get to make them with you.”

  I growl low in my throat. “Drop it, Clark.”

  “I’m burning with curiosity. What is it about these damn cookies that sets you off, Mave? It makes zero sense to me.”

  “Mom?” I shake her shoulders. Stare in horror at her blue eyes rolling back in her head. “Mom, wake up. Please. Please, wake up.”

  I’m there again. In my head. Flour-dusted hands. Frilly apron. Christmas carols on the radio, mocking my pain with their crooning lyrics about everything being right with the world.

  Emotions rock through me, but I fight to keep them hidden. “I brought you here to eat, not to argue.”

  “We’re not arguing. We’re having a… discussion.” She frowns as she stares at me. “Are you okay, Mave?”

  “Fine.” I force a smile. Lean back. Pretend the weight in my chest doesn’t exist by relying on my usual charm.

  As long as I grin and flirt and party, no one will know what a wreck I am inside.

  That’s been my armor for so long it’s become a part of me.

  Clark’s appraisal intensifies.

  It’s like she’s peeling back the layers of skin and bone until she’s drilled down to my very soul.

  I start to squirm. Turn the menu. Glance up.

  She’s still watching me.

  I slap the menu down. “What are you doing?”

  Slowly, she reaches out and places her hand on mine.

  It’s warm and gentle.

  “Mave.” She sighs softly. “Do you know what a terrible liar you are?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Say that again. Maybe the third time I’ll believe you.”

  I blink. Glance at the window. “I’m�
��”

  “Shut up.” She squeezes my hand. “Don’t finish that because I know you’re not. I can see it clear as day.”

  How can she?

  I’m holding it in.

  Holding back.

  No one has seen past the mask I’ve so carefully crafted. The fact that Clark can is unnerving as much as it is invigorating.

  She fastens her gaze on mine, her brown eyes filled with concern. Her grip gets firmer on my fingers as my thumb slowly caresses her knuckles.

  “You don’t have to tell me,” her eyes narrow, “but don’t lie to me. Or to yourself. That’ll only make you hurt more.”

  “I’m not hurt.”

  “You’re not happy either,” she says gently.

  Something inside me shatters.

  You’re not happy either.

  If she knew how much money I had in my bank account, how many cars are in my garage, how much my house is worth—

  If she knew, would she still say that to me?

  “I’m sorry.” Clark breaks eye contact and starts to pull her hand away. “I shouldn’t have said that. I have a habit of being nosy and—”

  I capture her hand before she can slide it into her lap. For the first time in my life, I want to let someone in.

  “My mother died around this time.” The words feel big and painful. They scrape my body as they charge out of my mouth. Rubbing the back of my neck, I admit, “I’ve never told anyone this before.”

  She tilts her head to the side, studying me again.

  “I was there when she... when it happened.” I shake off the memories as best as I can and focus on Clark. “That’s why…”

  “That’s why you don’t like Christmas,” she finishes for me.

  Our gazes tangle. Hold.

  The moment is raw and charged.

  Like bleeding hearts trapped against barbed wire.

  A quiet understanding fastens between us, tying a knot that I wouldn’t want to sever even if I could.

  A shadow casts over our table.

  A familiar voice calls, “Mave?”

  Reality rushes in again.

  I realize Clark and I aren’t the only two people in the world even if it felt like it.