A Holiday Temptation: A Holiday Novella

by Tiffany Patterson

  Resisting the urge to stare at his profile for too long, I turn to Suzette, giving her a pasted on smile as she continues talking about how excited she is for the holiday season.

  A part of me wishes I was as excited as Suzette is for the holidays. But between a grieving mother, an overbearing father who’s still controlling me from his grave, and a work project that’s put me in direct course with the man I meant to avoid, it doesn’t seem like there’s anything to look forward to this holiday season.

  Chapter 4

  I whip my forest green Mustang into my brother’s driveway, aware that he and his wife are home since both of the garage doors are closed. Typically, the doors are left open when one or the other isn’t home.

  It makes sense they’d be here since it’s after seven. I spent the rest of my workday trying to forget the entire morning and afternoon. Well, doing my best to forget one specific person from the morning and afternoon. I failed miserably. It’d been a shit day at work after the employees from Cypress left, and I kept having to redo reports and re-type emails to people after fucking them up the first time around.

  Unfortunately, my mind remained preoccupied with Jackie. It’s bad enough that she shows up back into my world after sixteen years. Now, I’m forced to work with her on this project that’s a turning point in my career. And during the holidays, no less.

  “Fuck me,” I curse as I slam my chair onto the pavement, just outside of the driver’s seat of my car.

  “Be careful with that thing. You know how much a new one of those costs?” Connor yells from his doorway.

  I do him the courtesy of tossing him my middle finger and continue setting up my wheelchair before hoisting my body from the driver’s seat to the chair. After locking up my car, I head up the ramp that leads to Connor and Resha’s front door.

  “What crawled up your ass and died?” my brother asks, glaring down at me with folded arms.

  I’ll admit he makes an imposing figure at six-foot-six and built out of solid muscle. And I, more than anyone, know his strength and glare aren’t just for looks. He’s a trained killer in the fighting ring. At least he used to be. The son of a bitch is retired now.

  “Get the hell out of my way. I didn’t come to see you,” I gripe, pushing past him and into the house.

  I glance around as I hear Connor shut the door behind me. Their home is spacious and decorated with a warmth that screams Resha, my sister-in-law. It’s the total opposite of most of my brother’s previous homes. The cream and light colors, the spaces filled with plants, and the glass coffee table covered in fashion magazines have Resha’s name written all over it.

  This home and its decor are proof that my brother is head over heels for that woman. I never would’ve imagined seeing him living in a place this nicely decorated. Or big. The house stands at around 4,500 square feet, and he likely would’ve gone bigger if Resha wanted.

  “Who’s at the— Mark. I thought it was you.” Resha rounds the corner, smiling.

  “There he is.” I make my first genuine smile since the Cypress meeting. Extending my arms to my sister-in-law, I say, “Hand him over, sis.”

  Resha’s smile broadens as she lowers baby Colin into my arms.

  “You better not wake him either with your funky ass attitude,” Connor gripes, coming up from behind me.

  I spare him a brief look before peering down at my sleeping nephew. At only six weeks old, he’s pure perfection. His rich, warm toffee coloring speaks to both his mother and his father’s blending skin tones. His heart-shaped mouth is more Resha’s than Connor’s, but when he opens his eyes, anyone can tell he’s an O’Brien through and through.

  My brother refused to let Resha name him Connor Jr. He wanted his son to make his way in life, starting with his name. Resha still got what she wanted, sort of. Colin is a derivative of Connor.

  “How long has he been asleep?” I ask, still looking down at him.

  “He conked out right after I bathed him. About ten minutes ago.”

  Connor whistles. “Little dude needed it after the shit explosion he let loose after his last feeding.”

  “Connor, language,” Resha insists.

  “What? It’s not like he can talk yet.”

  She sucks her teeth, and I chuckle at their banter.

  “Hey, what’d I say about waking the kid up?” Connor asks, reaching in to take his son.

  Tightening my hold around Colin, I give Connor the eye to back the hell off. “I got him. If he wakes, I’ll simply put him back to sleep. Move.” I shoo him away with my free hand before using it to wheel myself over to the dining room while holding Colin in my other arm. Resha and Connor’s home is easily accessible for my chair, so I don’t worry about bumping into furniture or end tables or anything like that. I have enough space to move around, something my brother does in every home of his since my accident.

  I grit my teeth thinking about my accident, which inevitably brings back to mind the same woman I came over here to forget. Staring at my nephew and imagining the life he will lead always helps relieve any stress leftover after a long day at work.

  “You gave ’em hell today, huh, little dude?” I ask, using the nickname his father gave him.

  Resha laughs behind me. “You should’ve seen your brother. I think he almost threw my baby in the garbage.”

  “He would’ve deserved it. Got shit all up his back and arms. How in the hell does poop get onto his arms? He’s wearing a diaper for Chrissake.”

  I chuckle low, mindful not to disturb Colin, who squirms a little in my arms. Baby stretches are probably the best thing ever, next to their smiles and laughs. Colin isn’t quite giggling yet, though, so I’ll settle for his little stretches and yawns.

  “Are you hungry, Mark?” Before I can even answer, I hear Resha padding across the hardwood floor into the kitchen to fix me a plate.

  My stomach growls. My sister-in-law is a hell of a cook.

  “Sure,” I say, not like it would matter anyway. If I said I wasn’t hungry, she’d still fix me a plate. But I haven’t eaten since that bullshit lunch during the Cypress meeting, and even then, I barely ate half of my sandwich. And though I don’t particularly feel hungry, I know I should eat.

  Minutes later, I’m sitting at the oblong dining room table in the space that connects both the kitchen and the living room, with a plate of macaroni and cheese, BBQ ribs, and garlicky green beans. Despite how good the food looks and tastes, my heart isn’t in it.

  Resha must’ve noticed I wasn’t eating with the typical gusto I usually indulge her meals in.

  “Is everything okay with, uh … what’s the name of that nurse you met at the hospital?” She stares at me from across the table.

  It takes me a moment to recall who she’s referring to before my eyebrows lift. “Vicki.”

  She was one of the nurses who tended to Resha while she was in the hospital after birthing Colin.

  “Vicki, that’s right. How’s she doing?”

  I shrug and take another bite of the macaroni and cheese. Vicki and I went out a couple of times. She even made it back to my place on a few occasions, but I just wasn’t feeling her.

  “She’s all right, I suppose. You’d have to ask her.”

  “She didn’t make the cut, huh?”

  I shake my head, looking at Resha before biting into the green beans.

  “Well, it’s the holiday season. The perfect time for love to find you.”

  I snort derisively at that.

  “Don’t think so, astór. Mark ain’t a fan of the holiday season,” Connor interrupts. “How about you take the little dude upstairs so he can sleep without having to hear his uncle chewing in his ear?”

  Reluctantly, I push away from the table just enough so that Resha can lift Colin out of my arms. I know Connor used that as an excuse for him and me to be alone. I keep my head down, staring at my plate, and chew slowly. My brother can still read me like a book, and I don’t feel like being read right now.

  �
�You all right? That Townsend fucker isn’t being too much of an asshole to you, is he?”

  “Why the hell would you think Aaron’s being an asshole to me? On top of that, if he was, why the hell do you think it’s something I can’t handle?” I demand as my fork clanks against my porcelain dinner plate.

  Connor folds his broad arms across his chest and sits back in his chair, eyeing me. “You always gotta take offense when I’m just looking out for you.”

  My chest tightens, and the words I’m sorry form in my mind, but I refuse to say them. Connor needs to learn that I’m more than just his little brother. I don’t always need him to fight my battles.

  “I thought Aaron was your friend. Why’re you calling him a fucker?”

  “Josh is my friend, almost like a brother, but Aaron, not so much. He’s cool, I guess. But I wouldn’t have a problem stringing him up if he fucked with you.”

  I snort. “He’s not. In fact, he just gave me supervision over this merger that may be announced at the end of the year.”

  Connor whistles. “Well, why didn’t you lead with that?” He slaps my shoulder. “You've been looking for more opportunity to showcase your skill and earn your way into a higher role within the company, right?”

  I nod.

  “Then why the long face and the pissy attitude?”

  I open my mouth but decide not to tell my brother about Jackie Hinkerson. He didn’t know her while I was in high school. He didn’t know the extent to which she played in my life since he was busy building his career as a mixed martial artist. He was doing a lot of traveling and fighting during that time, and I, being a typical teen, was pulling away from my family, especially my older brother, seeking out my independence.

  “I don’t like the person I have to take on this project with,” I lamely state, my frustration spilling out into my tone.

  Connor stands, clicking his teeth and waving me off. “The fuck cares about whoever it is? As long as they ain’t giving you shit you can’t handle. If this project skyrockets your career, then fuck whoever stands in your way.”

  I chuckle at his cavalier tone. It’s that simple for him. As things had always been. Scratch that. Things weren’t always simple for my brother, but life seemed to unfold naturally for him. Without even realizing it, he had a natural talent for everything he touched. From the time he could walk, our father taught him how to box, and he took to it like a fish to water. He excelled as a fighter, earning deals and notoriety the world over. Then he started a dietary supplements line, which took off. And let’s not forget The Underground. His not-so-secret underground fighting club, which he’s been running for years.

  Oh yeah, and most recently, a beautiful wife and son to boot. Connor’s life hasn’t been a walk in the park, but he’s got a shit ton to show for it, even if he doesn’t care at all for the flash and envy of others. But I’m not my brother. Never have been.

  Don’t get it twisted, though. I know I’m one of the luckiest motherfuckers alive. My life is damn good, and I know it.

  “Yeah,” I say, agreeing with Connor because it doesn’t make a damn bit of sense to argue his point. He’s right, after all. Jackie fucking Hinkerson isn’t going to get in the way of my professional ambition.

  I pull out my phone to open up my work email. Before I even realize what’s happening, my thumbs fly over the keyboard, typing out a message.

  “You’re coming over for Thanksgiving, right?”

  “What?” I murmur, still typing out the email.

  “Thanksgiving. You’re bringing your ass over here, right? Buddy’s coming, and Damon’s bringing the family over here, too. Josh and Kayla will probably stop by after they do the family thing.”

  I grunt, still typing.

  “Who the fuck are you texting?” he demands.

  Glancing up, I give him a half smile. “None of your damn business.”

  He points his finger at me, standing to his full height. “You better not be talking to Buddy about getting into the ring.”

  “Bro, you know even at your full height, and from this chair, you still don’t scare me.”

  “Yeah, talk that mess when my foot’s up your ass for getting in another fight.” He huffs and folds his arms across his chest. Even with narrowed lenses and scowling, I don’t find him incredibly intimidating. Yeah, sure, it’s because I know, despite his threats, my brother would never harm me.

  Even before the chair, he was always looking out for me. It’s why I’ve been able to deal with Aaron Townsend for the past two-plus years with ease. I’ve been around scowling motherfuckers my entire life. Hell, for much of my life, I was one of ’em.

  “It’s a work email. Hey, I’m heading home. Since the baby’s asleep, I’ve got no reason to sit around staring at your ugly mug.”

  “Hey, and what am I? Chopped liver?”

  Grinning, I turn my chair to see my sister-in-law standing there wearing an affronted expression with her arms out wide.

  “You, doll, would be just my type if it weren’t for the big guy over here.” I wave my head at Connor before tossing Resha a wink.

  Connor growls, and Resha bursts into laughter as he pulls her into him. I also chuckle because it always makes me feel better to get under Connor’s skin by flirting with Resha.

  “Here, take this. You barely ate anything from your dinner,” Resha insists, stuffing yet another Tupperware container full of food into my lap. Whether I eat my entire plate or not, she’s always giving me leftovers.

  “Let him buy his own damn food, astór,” Connor grumbles from the dining room as she follows me to the front door.

  I glance back to see her wave him off.

  “You didn’t answer Connor about Thanksgiving.”

  I hadn’t even noticed Resha was here for that part of our discussion.

  “Yeah, I’ll be here.” Where the hell else was I going to go? I don’t like imposing on friends for the holidays. Both of our parents are deceased, and my brother used to be the only family I had. With Resha and Colin added to the mix, I wouldn’t think of missing his first Thanksgiving. I despise the holidays, but I’ll celebrate them nonetheless.

  “Good. Will you be bringing a plus one?”

  Frowning, I question, “Why the hell would I do that?”

  She surprises me by laughing. “You sounded just like Connor when you said that. You two are so similar sometimes.”

  I shook my head. “He wishes he looked this good.”

  “I fucking heard that.”

  “You were meant to, douchebag. Bye, sis,” I say.

  She leans in and kisses my cheek, giving me a hug, which I return. Despite my flirting earlier, I really do love Resha and Connor together. She’s good for him.

  “Later.”

  After getting in my car, I finalize the email I’d started more than ten minutes earlier. My short conversation with Connor helped me realize that pouting about this work situation isn’t going to fix shit. I need action.

  Action has always gotten me out of my pissy moods and shitty situations when I’d rather sit in my self-pity.

  I take another minute to read over my email before sending it to Jackie’s Cypress account, knowing she’ll receive it first thing in the morning. Inhaling, I feel relieved having gotten that off my chest.

  Chapter 5

  This is absolutely ridiculous, I think as I look up at the chime of the coffee shop’s front doors. Sighing in disappointment, I glance down at the cracked wooden table when I see it’s not the one person I’m searching for.

  Rolling my eyes at the measures I’m resorted to taking just to get my job done, I sigh. Not only am I now working ten-hour days to play keep up and learn an entirely new company and programs, but also, this merger deal has me working overtime.

  That’s not even the worst part. I could deal with all the other stuff that comes along with taking on a new position. Even the merger with Townsend isn’t that bad. Right, it’s a hell of a lot of work, but if it goes well, this deal could
mean Cypress has the opportunity to do some great work in the city of Williamsport and possibly beyond. That’s one of the main reasons I took this job.

  There’s also the bonus I really, really need.

  I don’t mind putting in the hours. What I do mind, however, is the fact that my days are longer because the one person I’m supposed to be working with on this merger keeps avoiding me.

  I received Mark’s email three nights ago. After that first meeting at Townsend, I found myself swamped with work. Once we made it back to the office, Jase expressed how critical this merger with Townsend is. Not only is my bonus on the line, but the jobs of many others as well. To stay open, without this merger, Cypress may have to eliminate a lot of positions.

  I asked Jase why he would have me take on the lead role to help pull all of this together when I’m so new to the company. He admitted, “Aaron Townsend doesn’t trust many of us over here at Cypress. Probably for a good reason. He needed to see a new face in the lead to partially ensure that the same old bullshit that almost crippled Cypress won’t be replicated.”

  So, I was a token of sorts.

  I’m not offended.

  I have zero qualms proving myself at this job. It’s the only thing keeping me sane. That is until I have to deal with Mark. Or not deal, as he strictly demanded in his email.

  Mark reiterated that we keep our contact with one another relegated to email and messages, strictly when necessary. I’ve only received one email from him since then. He’s been going through Suzette as an intermediary, but that isn’t going to work.

  So, while everything in my life—literally, everything—is telling me to steer clear of Mark O’Brien, my desire to get at least one thing right pushes me to say screw his email.

  Which is why I’m here, at this coffee shop across the street from Townsend Industries at seven-thirty this Thursday morning. The door chimes again, and my stomach turns over, and my heart races just a touch faster when I see Mark push himself through the door with one hand while holding it open with the other.