A Holiday Temptation: A Holiday Novella

by Tiffany Patterson

  “Mark.”

  “She asked you nicely the first time. Shame you couldn’t just fucking listen, shithead.”

  “You’re breaking my arm,” the guy bellows.

  Now, the waitstaff I’d been searching for seconds earlier seems to come out of the woodwork. Other patrons are starting to notice as well, although no one intervenes, either out of shock or fear.

  “It’s not broken yet, but it will be if you don’t shut the hell up.”

  “Okay, okay! Ah,” he yells again when Mark hikes his arm up higher, thus twisting it even more.

  “Apologize to her.”

  “I’m sorry,” he cries as he peers up at me.

  I see the tears of pain and probably embarrassment welling up in his eyes and nod.

  “Now, get the fuck out of here. And next time, listen when a woman tells you to back off.” Slowly, Mark releases the man.

  For a moment, I think he might try to retaliate or something, but the pitiful expression on his face tells me he’s too ashamed to do anything. He stumbles right into the arms of two burly busboys who promptly escort the man out of the restaurant through the back door.

  An older woman emerges from the kitchen door. “Are you okay, Mr. O’Brien?”

  “Fine,” Mark responds, waving her off. “No te preocupe por ese, Señora Gonzalez.”

  I blink as the woman responds to Mark in Spanish. The conversation is short, but I sense she’s checking over him.

  “Ready?” he questions as if we’re simply leaving the dinner table.

  Swallowing, I nod and head out in front of Mark. I walk faster than usual as the heat of my anger bubbles up.

  “Why’re you walking so fast?” he inquires minutes later, right before we get to the parking lot where we’re both parked.

  Spinning on my heels to look him in the eye, I say, “What the hell was that?”

  He blinks, staring at me with a dip between his eyebrows. “What?”

  “You could’ve gotten hurt.”

  That statement only angers him. Mark’s expression morphs from confused to pissed off in the blink of any eye. But, this time, his anger doesn’t bother me because I’m pissed, too.

  “Are you still fighting?” I growl.

  “Yes.” He looks me square in the eyes as he answers.

  “How, Mark? Isn’t that dangerous? You could hurt yourself. Or—”

  “Or what? End up paralyzed? Too late for that.”

  My shoulders slump. “That’s not what I was going to say, but couldn’t fighting further exacerbate your injury? It could make it worse.”

  “Fighting doesn’t put me in any more danger than it does the average guy with two working legs. I was a fighter before this fucking chair, and I’m still one.”

  Running my fingers across my forehead, I shake my head . “The douchebag could’ve hurt you.”

  “Or you, which is why I did what I did, and I’d do it again, so don’t fucking ask me to regret it.”

  “You’re still the same SOB who thinks he can get away with any and everything.”

  “And you’re still the same princess who’s afraid of her own damn shadow but puts up a front so that people won’t see the real you.”

  “Screw you,” I shout, feeling seen.

  “Sure,” he growls.

  Time moves in slow motion as he reaches up with one arm, leveraging himself against his chair with the other, and he wraps his hand around my arm. With a yank, he pulls me to him, and as if magnetized, our lips fuse.

  I move my hands to the arms of his chair, bracing myself as Mark’s lips caress mine. That’s the only appropriate word I can use to describe the way he kisses me wholly, fully. Tiny pulses of energy shoot down my body, building larger and larger as the kiss deepens. This embrace between us is everything I remember from our teenage years and so much more.

  Mark is the first one to pull back. His gaze is as dazed as mine, probably. “Yeah, I thought it’d be like that again.”

  I nod because he’s right. There’s no other way for our kisses to turn out besides amazing. He runs his thumb across my lower lip, and I tremble, my fingers gripping on tighter to his chair.

  A whole conversation is exchanged between our eyes as we stare at one another. How can it be that more than a decade and a half has passed, but everything still feels the same, only better? So much has changed. So, so much.

  “Everything’s different, but this is the same,” he says sincerely with my chin still in his hold as he brushes his thumb across my skin.

  I can’t find the right words to fill this moment, so I remain silent. Maybe if I do, everything that’s wrong with this will fix itself. Quite possibly, if we can just hang onto this shred of a moment between us, the world around us will allow this thing to grow and flourish into what it’s always was destined to be.

  And when my hopes start to rise too high, the sound of a car horn on the other side of the parking lot breaks the spell.

  Mark’s hand drops from my chin, and, finger by finger, I release the hold I have on his chair, standing once again.

  “Here, don’t forget the food you ordered for your mom,” he says, handing me the to-go bag I had forgotten entirely.

  “Mama,” I whisper. That sets my mind straight again. My mother is home alone on a Saturday night, and she probably hasn’t eaten. And I’m in the parking lot kissing a man whom I have no choice but to stay away from outside of work, for her sake.

  “Thank you.” I grab the bag of food from his hand and take one final look before heading to my car. When I pull out of my space, I find Mark still sitting there watching me. I wave, and he tosses his head in acknowledgment.

  What else am I supposed to do but go home?

  Chapter 10

  “You kissed me the other night,” I blurt out after hours of torture.

  Today is Tuesday, and it’s our last day of seeing one another before taking a break for the Thanksgiving holiday. I told myself there was nothing sad about this day, but for hours I’ve felt the sadness inside of me growing. Knowing I wouldn’t see Mark for at least another six days.

  Add to that, that since I’ve been in Townsend’s boardroom with him, he hasn’t mentioned anything about the kiss we shared Saturday evening. Sure, we were surrounded by employees, both his and mine. However, we’ve been alone for the past thirty minutes.

  Mark peers up from his laptop, and that familiar mischief is in his eyes.

  “You kissed me back, J.” His eyebrows lift and fall.

  I laugh. “I didn’t want to be rude.”

  He snorts, sitting up fully. “What you didn’t want was for me to see how wet your panties got for me.”

  I gasp so loud if anyone else were in the office, they surely would’ve heard me. “Mark …” I glance around at the corner ceiling, ensuring there aren’t any cameras that I may not have noticed before. “We’re still at work.”

  “You’re working.” He slams his laptop shut. “I’m ready to get the hell outta here and get something to eat. You coming?”

  Biting the inside of my cheek, I hesitate. My first response is to say yes, but my thinking side reminds me of what’s at stake. I’ve been trying to remind myself all weekend that it was best to stay away from Mark.

  “How about I make up your mind for you. Sure, Mark, dinner sounds great. I’m hungry as a freaking horse,” he mocks in a high-pitched voice before pulling out from his side of the table and moving over to mine to shut my laptop for me.

  Sighing, I give in because I am hungry.

  “There’s a Greek place I want to take you to. There’s also a holiday light show close by that started this weekend.” Mark’s voice is so infused with joy that I don’t have the heart to tell him I probably won’t be making any light show with him tonight. It’s bad enough that I’m going to dinner.

  “You’re taking me in your car?” I ask once we arrive in the parking garage. I was so caught up in my thoughts, I didn’t realize we walked in the direction of his car.

/>   “Yeah. Parking’s kind of tight around the restaurant and where the light show is. It just makes more sense to take one car. I’ll bring you back to yours after the show.”

  I only hesitate for a moment because, despite how wrong this is, I want to go. The thought that I won’t be seeing Mark for the next six days keeps hammering at the back of my mind. I also know there’s a tiny, unlikely chance that we’ll run into my Uncle Will. He and his family live over an hour away, and it’s the middle of the week.

  Those reminders allay my fears, and I opt to go with the flow.

  “Do you need me to help?” I ask as Mark pulls the passenger door of his Mustang open.

  “Yeah, you can get in so I can close the door behind you and get in myself.”

  “Don’t get snippy with me,” I say before getting in the passenger seat.

  Mark moves in closer. “Why? You plan on doing something about it?” His voice is so deep, and I could blame the colder weather for why my nipples harden, but let’s be real? We know what the actual cause of my physical response is.

  That point is made when, instinctively, I angle my head upwards as Mark leans in, retaking my lips. It’s a bit of an odd angle given the position of his chair, but the kiss removes the awkwardness with its heat.

  “Didn’t think so,” he says as he pulls back.

  I give him a confused look, but then remember the question he asked right before kissing me. Pushing at his shoulder, I cause him to laugh as he closes the car door.

  He maneuvers around and transitions his body from the chair to the driver’s seat before removing the wheels of his chair and placing them in the back. It doesn’t take him long to get the entire chair in the backseat, and he starts the engine and pulling us out of the parking space.

  I laugh at the roaring of his engine as we pull out. “What’s so funny?”

  “I always pictured you in a Mustang. I would’ve thought black, though.”

  He shakes his head. “Forest green, baby.”

  I smirk. “She suits you. How long have you had her?” Turning to him, I admire his profile while he stares straight ahead, observing the road before us.

  “Little over two years. I bought it as a gift to myself once I got the job at Townsend. Had an SUV before. Still have it, actually, just don’t drive it as much.”

  Fully turning to him and parking my elbow on the console between us, I ask, “So, how many women have you taken to this restaurant?”

  He grins and looks over at me, and the way a piece of his hair falls over his forehead makes me swoon a little. Like, real live swoon. I sigh.

  “Only a select few. I found this place because it’s not too far from Connor and Resha’s place. I don’t take my dates out this far.”

  I swallow and bite down on the urge to ask him if he’s been on any other dates recently. It’s not my business, I have to remind myself.

  “Their food better be good.”

  “Would I eat there if it wasn’t?”

  Shaking my head, I snicker. “No, you wouldn’t. What’s good there?”

  “The chicken and beef gyros are great, but my favorite is the lamb.”

  “You haven’t steered me wrong yet. Lamb gyro it is.”

  He turns to me, nodding. “Does your mom like lamb?”

  I blink, surprised at the question. “She doesn’t eat red meat.”

  “She might like the Greek salad with chicken or shrimp.”

  “She likes to eat light. I’ll get her the shrimp on top of the salad.”

  “How’d she like the fish tacos from the other night?”

  “She didn’t eat much of them but said she liked it.”

  Mark looks over at me, a wrinkle on his forehead. “What is it?”

  I tried to hide the worry over my mom in my voice, but I guess he picked up on it. “She hasn’t been eating a lot lately. I feel like she’s lost ten pounds since I moved back.”

  “Is she ill?”

  “Yeah, with grief.”

  His forehead wrinkle deepens.

  “My f—” I pause, asking myself what I’m doing talking to Mark about all of this. “It’s fine. I’m sure she’ll love the salad. I can’t wait to try that gyro.” I pat my stomach, averting my gaze.

  I do my best to take in the holiday lights that decorate the lamp poles as we drive past. Yet, the air inside of the Mustang takes on a stiff silence. My stomach rumbles with the icky feeling of holding back from the person you’re dying to share everything with. I’m familiar with it. It seems to be the tradition of Mark and my relationship. Him searching and prodding to know me deeper. And me, withholding secrets while giving him the rest of me.

  She’s still holding onto secrets. Throughout dinner, I do my best to ignore it, to avoid the heaviness behind those captivating eyes. But, like my father used to call me, I’m a glutton for punishment.

  “How was your gyro?” I question, needing to pull my mind from my roaming thoughts.

  “Delicious. Just like you said.”

  “Maybe one day you’ll learn to trust me.”

  My comment surprises both of us. Jackie’s eyes widen. It’s on the tip of my tongue to add with your food choices, but that’s a lie, so I don’t bother with it. Jackie is withholding the same as back in high school.

  “Thanks for bringing me,” she says after a minute of silence.

  I nod and wave for the check from the waiter.

  “The light show is down this way,” I tekk her minutes later as I hold the door open for her.

  “So, it’s a light show and not a tree lighting?”

  “Right. The tree lighting happens this weekend.”

  “I remember those. Downtown, right?”

  I nod as we walk down the city block, people moving around and next to us. The only regret about this moment is that I can’t take her hand into mine.

  “Those tree lightings used to be epic.”

  “Yeah, only because you and your crew would spend your time flirting with the college girls who showed up to them.”

  I chuckle. “True.” I banged a few of them, too, but that didn’t need to be said out loud. “There was that one lighting where I didn’t worry about my crew or the college chicks.”

  She pauses, turning to me. The look in her eyes and the wistful smile on her face tells me she remembers that night.

  “That was a special night. My first tree lighting.”

  “Ever? How is that possible?”

  She shrugs as we keep walking. “My parents weren’t really into doing the whole holiday thing. We celebrated but hardly went out as a family to things like tree lightings or shows and the whole shebang.”

  A few feet ahead, she stops and gasps. “They have hot chocolate. My favorite. This is my treat,” she insists, glaring at me as if she knew I were ready to pony up for the cost.

  Without waiting for me to respond, she heads in the direction of the small, wooden booth where an older man is selling hot chocolate and cookies.

  “Thank you,” I hear her say as I move closer.

  Turning to me, she hands me one of the styrofoam cups of the chocolate, piping hot liquid, and a sugar cookie.

  “Dinner was on you. Dessert is on me.”

  “Thank you.” I take the cup and cookie but watch her as she inhales the steam from the hot chocolate before taking a sip. Her eyes close, and she smiles.

  “So good. Try it.”

  I take a sip of the sweet beverage and nod in agreement. “Marshmallows.”

  “I told him to add a few extra to your cup.” She winks.

  “Good job.”

  After finishing our drinks, I toss both cups in a nearby bin.

  “How was your cookie?” she asks as we continue down the long, paved walkway, moving into the beginning of the light show.

  I shrug. “It was okay, but after having your friend’s, I’m pickier about my cookies.”

  She giggles. “Same. Oh,” she gasps when I grab hold of her arm, surprising her. I pull her onto my lap
.

  “This show will be more entertaining with you on my lap.”

  She laughs. “Is that so?”

  “It is. Put your arm around my shoulders and make yourself comfortable, J.”

  “Are you sure this is comfortable for you?”

  “Stop worrying. I know what the hell I’m doing.”

  “Bossy ass.”

  I grin as she does as I instructed, placing her arm around my shoulders and shifting her body weight so she’s secure in my lap. No, I can’t feel her weight on my legs, but there’s a warmth that overtakes me from her closeness.

  Comforted with her in my lap, I continue down the long walkway that reveals the lights surrounding us.

  “It’s so pretty,” she gushes, her eyes twinkling with happiness as she peers up at the lit up candy canes and snowmen. While snow does occur from time to time in Williamsport, it’s not a common occurrence, so the fake snow falling around us is courtesy of the producers of this show.

  Jackie giggles when I pause to wipe a few snowflakes from her nose. Her arm tightens around my shoulder as I spin us around in circles, making her laugh like a woman who has let go of her inhibitions.

  “You’re making me dizzy,” she says, still laughing and panting once I stop.

  “Call it payback, then. You’ve been making me dizzy since you walked into that boardroom two and a half weeks ago.”

  Her face sobers as she looks down at me. “Really? I thought you hated me.”

  “I did,” I confess, before taking her face in between my palms and pulling her to me. This kiss is more aggressive than the first one in that parking lot. So many emotions pour out of me into that kiss, but namely, it’s longing that propels the kiss. The many days, nights, and years that I longed to have her in my arms again.

  All the women I’ve been with between the last time I saw her and right now fall away.