“Well, excellent then. Our little Pig—Clarissa is simply full of surprises now, isn’t she? Not much of anything she can’t accomplish.” She turned away from Norris. Her smile wasn’t nearly as bright as she looked at Clarissa. “Eating in bed, are we? You know greasy chicken and my Christmas sheets don’t really mix well. Won’t you dress and come down?”
“How’d the competition go, Mother?”
Such a wicked girl indeed. How had Clarissa sensed that the singing competition hadn’t gone well? Mrs. McGovern’s smile vanished. She pulled at the edges of the tiny velvet shrug that matched her dress.
“Well, yes. Not well, then, if you must know. Not well at all. It would seem . . . well, Mrs. Emmerson had a ringer, if you would. A relative of some sort from New York who sings opera. We simply couldn’t stack up next to that, and Kevin—”
Julia appeared, framed in the doorway in her performance dress, fisted hands on her hips. Fury exploded on her face. “Mother!” she hissed. “You will not say another word about Kevin.”
Beyond mad. Norris had never seen his best friend’s beloved ever look so enraged.
“What’s to say, dear? The man simply can’t handle the pressure of performing. Isn’t that obvious?” Mrs. McGovern laid her hand over her heart. “I only wish we’d known before the competition.”
“Mother, I told you that neither Kevin nor I wanted to participate in this Candy Cane Lane charade of yours, but you insisted.”
“Charade?” Mrs. McGovern put a hand to her forehead. “My God, what do you mean by charade? You think I do all this for myself?” A look of horror spread over Mrs. McGovern’s face. “I do this for you and your father. So that the family can have a beautiful Christmas.”
“Hawaii is beautiful at Christmas,” Clarissa interjected, dropping a bone stripped bare of chicken back into the bowl.
“You want palm trees and sand for Christmas, young lady? Then fine, you just march yourself out of here and you can have it. I’ve never met such ungrateful children. One complaining about how her fiance crumbles under pressure and the other sitting nearly naked in her bed in front of a male guest after doing God knows what—”
“Think I’ll be heading downstairs,” Norris stood. “Kevin and Mr. McGovern down there, then?” He headed for the door.
“Eating greasy chicken on my second-best set of holiday sheets.” Mrs. McGovern continued as if Norris hadn’t spoken.
Norris exited and started to pull the bedroom door shut.
“And what is that?” Mrs. McGovern shrieked. “Oh my God, Piglet, what are you doing with a used condom in your room?”
“Well, boys, come on down. It isn’t much, but that’s exactly what keeps the womenfolk away.” Lawrence McGovern pulled a dangling string that hung from the naked light bulb to turn it on. The sixty-watt bulb gave off just enough light to showcase the determinedly awful basement room—maybe 100 square feet of cold cement. It held a workbench, a boiler, and two old bar stools that Lawrence could call his own.
“Keep my own snort over here.” He opened a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Jameson and three rocks glasses. “Mrs. McGovern hasn’t been down here since 1998, when she thought she saw a snake curled up in that corner.” He tilted the bottle toward the boiler. “Never had the heart to tell her was an old rope.” Lawrence laughed and gave generous pour into each glass.
Kevin sat on a barstool next to the workbench. His distant gaze seemed to focus somewhere beyond the confines of the small basement room.
“Ah, Kevin”—Lawrence clapped him on the shoulder—“don’t beat yourself up. Never should’ve had you up there. Practically forced you into it. My Eliza can be pretty damned persuasive. How you think she ever managed to get me married?” He rolled his eyes and took a gulp of whiskey. “All for the best, though. Never would’ve been happy in Italy taking photographs. A much better existence for me here, what with the auto parts store.”
Norris choked on his whiskey. “You were a photographer?”
“Well, now, that might be a stretch. Eliza always said I was a hobbyist. But yes, I did spend most of my time in the service taking photos. Have some still that make me a bit of money from those websites. You know, Shutterstock and the like. But no, just a hobby, not what a fellow with a family and wife should be doing.” He turned to Kevin. “Kind of like you and that band you have. Side gig comes after your teaching. All fun and games until you get married and there’s a little one on the way.”
Color drained from Kevin’s face. “Julia and I’ve discussed that. She understands that my music is my life. I’m just teaching as a way to supplement my income. So no, Mr. McGovern, I don’t think . . . I mean, we won’t be starting a family for while.”
“Oh, sure, sure, sure, my boy. I understand.” Lawrence nodded. “I thought the same thing back in the day, but these things do happen, you know. Eliza and I were going to head to Italy for about nine months, but just before the trip she found out she was pregnant. Lucky for me, it was about the same time her father was ready to retire and hand over the auto parts store. All worked out in the end, then.” Mr. McGovern’s brow creased. “Quite a lucky coincidence that.”
Kevin looked at Norris, his eyes like saucers. It was as though the poor fellow had just seen his future with Julia, and that future didn’t look bright. Kevin lifted his glass and drained it.
“A bit more then?” Lawrence tilted the bottle and poured more booze into Kevin’s glass. “Really helps numb the pain.”
“Lawrence? Lawrence, are you down there?” Eliza stood at the top of the stairs, yelling down the steps. “I need your help. Please won’t you come up for a moment?”
“Yes, dear.” Lawrence dutifully upended his drink, gave a nod to the boys, and slowly climbed the stairs with a rueful, resigned smile, as though about to face the Christmas guillotine.
Kevin looked at Norris. “I don’t think I can do it.”
Norris sipped his whiskey.
“I can’t marry her. I certainly can’t come to this nuthouse every Christmas for the rest of my life. And I don’t want babies, at least not in the next five years. Julia claims she agrees with me, but you’ve seen this family, Norris. They’re absolute loons.”
Norris nodded. He couldn’t deny Kevin was right.
“It’s not too late. I mean, look at you. You got out of it with Clarissa.”
“Well . . .” Norris tilted his head. “That’s not exactly how it happened.”
“What? You took her away for Christmas, and then you two came back and split at New Year’s.”
“Right,” Norris agreed. “We did split up after the holidays. But it wasn’t really what I wanted.”
“You can see now how lucky you were to dodge that bullet, eh? I mean Piglet? Her parents call her piglet? How horrible is that? And she’s here, even.”
“She’s only here because she, like this entire family, think you’re going to propose to Julia tomorrow night.”
What little color was left in Kevin’s face drained away like melting snow down a gutter. His skin looked a sickly green.
“I mean you are, aren’t you? You’ve got the ring, yeah?”
Kevin nodded. He brought the whiskey glass to his lips. Was his hand trembling? “Oh, I’ve got the ring.” Bitterness wove through his voice. “Exactly the ring I was instructed to get. Put me way back in my savings—nearly cleaned me out, in fact. I mean, that money was meant to go for the summer recording session for our new demo.” Kevin shook his head. “And I suppose once we’re engaged, our money will go toward the wedding, and then after the wedding, the money will go toward a house, and then next thing she’ll be . . .” Kevin looked up, his face awash in horror. “Oh. My God.” He looked as though he might throw up. “Then she’ll be pregnant.”
“You don’t know that—”
“Easy for you to say! You aren’t about to throw your life away with one of those McGovern women.”
The idea of throwing his life away with Clarissa sounded like a good to
ss of the dice to Norris. One he’d tried to make years before.
“Do you mean you’re going to break up with her?”
“I want to be with Julia,” Kevin sighed. “But I’m not sure I need to get married. That is . . . I’m not ready to give up my dreams in music. From what Lawrence was saying, the McGovern women aren’t willing to let their men pursue their dreams.”
“I don’t think they’re all like Mrs. McGovern—”
“Sure, Piglet might not be.”
“Don’t call her that! You said yourself it’s awful. Don’t do it.”
“Fine, sure. But Clarissa isn’t like her mother and her sister. That’s obvious—they don’t even look alike. Couldn’t be more different if they tried. Besides, she got away. My God, the woman has an Academy Award and her own production company. She’s practically running Hollywood.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“No wonder you wanted to marry her.”
“That was before her success.”
“But you had to see it, had to know it was coming, right?”
“Not really. We were both still trying to get our careers going.”
“Well, hers is going and yours is on its way. What with the movie set to go and all.”
Norris nodded, but he couldn’t meet Kevin’s gaze. His best friend failed to notice his sudden discomfort, because Kevin was too busy wallowing in the prospect of getting tied down.
“Your screenplay is about to get filmed. Signed that deal.”
“Living the dream, aren’t I?”
“You sure as hell are, and it’s because you didn’t get sidetracked. Providence smiled on you all those Christmases ago. You’ve been able to focus on what you want, and not have to worry about anyone else wanting a house or a baby.” Kevin wiped his lips on his sleeve and set down his glass on the workbench with a thud. “Damn straight. Teaching school doesn’t get my records made. Doesn’t get me signed. Doesn’t get me the career I want. Especially teaching school in Denver. Who does that? What big musician ever came out of Denver?”
“John Denver?”
“Not even him, he was from Roswell.” Kevin stood. “No, absolutely not. Thank you, Norris. Can always depend on a good friend to set you straight.”
“Sure, sure. I’m certain Julia will be behind you one hundred percent.”
Kevin had already disappeared up the stairs. Norris took a last pull on his drink and set down the glass. He tugged the string on the light and through the darkness followed Kevin upstairs.
7
Clarissa had assumed Norris would come to her bed last night once everyone was asleep. No such luck. After a tangle with Mother, in which Clarissa told her, in no uncertain terms, that as a full-grown nonvirginal woman, she could handle her sex life on her own—used condom be damned—she’d curled up in bed with her laptop and Netflix. She’d kind of hoped Norris would supply the “chill” part of the equation by climbing beneath her great-grandmother’s quilt and into the wrought iron bed with her.
But he was a no-show. Julia had slipped into her room early this morning to report that Daddy had a talk with Norris and Kevin in the basement, a.k.a. Daddy’s man cave. She had practically beamed a halo of cherubic white light as she spoke about her soon-to-be betrothed. Of course, Julia was convinced that Kevin had been downstairs asking Daddy for his blessing to propose. Clarissa wasn’t so certain. When he’d passed Clarissa in the hall last night as she returned from the bathroom, Kevin had trudged by, his skin as pasty as a corpse’s, his shoulders slumped. Not the body language of a man excited about the prospect of marriage. Kevin’s had been the body language of a man sentenced to life without a chance of parole.
Hmmm . . . tonight was supposed to be the big night. And Mother was preparing to let all of Powder Springs know that her youngest daughter was getting married. On top of the annual family Christmas Eve dinner, Mother had invited seventy-five of her closest friends to an open house. Of course, this party was meant to be where Mother announced the engagement of her most beautiful and favorite daughter to all her very important friends, showed off Julia’s ring, and talked about dates for the wedding and all the rest of the nonsense that would consume Mother and Julia for the next year.
“You up?” Norris poked his head through the doorway of Clarissa’s room.
She stretched her arms over her head. “How’d you sleep?” Norris was showered and clothed and looking fresh.
“Good. I have some errands to run this morning. He glanced at his phone. “Your mother emailed us all an itinerary for today.”
“It’s a big day, you know. First of all, it’s Christmas Eve, which aside from tomorrow is the biggest day of the year for Mother. And second, her perfect daughter is getting engaged.”
“Mmmhmmm.” Norris scrolled on his phone.
“Do you want company on your errands?”
Norris glanced up and his furrowed brow relaxed. He leaned forward until his lips were a breath from hers. “While normally I’d say yes, because I’d never pass on your company, today I have much too much to accomplish to be distracted by the likes of you.” A smile crossed his face.
Clarissa’s heart beat faster. Damn. She couldn’t really say she was falling for this man all over again, because she suspected she’d never really fallen out of love with Norris. Perhaps she’d only been scared . . . which was something she never liked to admit to.
He leaned closer. His lips, oh my God, his lips found hers and he pressed her back into the lovely plush feather pillows on her giant bed. Yes, now if she could just convince him to take off those rather inconvenient clothes. His tongue swept through her mouth and his hand cupped her jaw.
Heat surged through her. She pressed up, feeling the hardness of his sex through his clothes and the blanket.
“I could get lost in this bed with you,” he whispered.
“Then do,” she whispered back, moving her hand to grasp his hard maleness through his jeans.
“What would Mother say?”
“Mother isn’t even here.”
“How do you know that?” he quizzed. “You haven’t even been out of bed.”
“Because Mother’s Christmas Eve routine hasn’t changed in twenty-eight years. Right now she’s finishing up her last trip to the grocery store until the day after Christmas.”
“That’s uncanny. Exactly what the note said.”
“Which she left beside a fresh pot of coffee, bacon, and fresh cinnamon rolls?”
“My God, woman, you must have grown up here or something.”
“Or something.” Clarissa slid her hand up and down over Norris’s stiff cock.
“Such a temptress.” He nipped at her neck. She opened the button on his jeans. “I can’t say no.”
Clarissa slipped her hand down the front of his jeans and grasped the smooth flesh of his cock. She stroked her finger over the head.
“Damn,” Norris whispered.
Norris’s sweater today had an elaborately embroidered Christmas tree with a blinking star. “Nice sweater,” Clarissa said, yanking it up over his head.
Norris jumped up and bolted to the door, turning the lock. He shucked his jeans from his body and dove under the covers.
Yes, this was the way to wake up in the morning. His body was hard and warm, Her hand found his cock again, stroking down the long shaft. His lips surrounded her taut rosebud nipple and sucked. Oh, she adored sex early in the morning, before she got out of bed. She rolled Norris onto his back, positioning herself above him.
“Oh, yes. I do so love a woman who can ride well.”
Clarissa seized his wrists and pushed them back to the pillow. She straddled Norris, feeling the tip of his cock nudge the ring of muscles at her entrance. Slowly, she moved down to let her flesh take him in. He freed a hand, and his fingertip found her clit. A jolt of pleasure surged through her as he caressed the tiny button of sensitive nerves.
She slid slowly down on his shaft.
And he lifted his hips up to
meet her.
Norris brushed her nipples with his other hand. He leaned up and took the bud of flesh into his mouth.
Yes, oh yes. Slowly, ever so slowly, she pulled up just enough, and then sank back down over his cock. He put a hand on her hip, his other fingertip still circling her clit.
“Oh yes, my God, Norris. Oh, yes!”
His eyes on her, his pupils big and black. The sharp edge of pleasure pulled her close to orgasm as she rode him. She was completely in control, her body pumping up and down on his thick shaft. So close now, she pressed forward. Faster and faster, almost to release. But she didn’t want control, she wanted to surrender. She pulled away and positioned herself on her hands and knees.
“From behind, please.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. Norris sprang up and was behind her in an instant. His hand wrapped itself in her mane of curls. He remembered. He remembered how she loved him to tug on her hair as he fucked her.
Smack!
She gasped sharply. His hand soothed the flesh of her ass.
He leaned over her, his finger driving deep in her sex. “You get hot when I smack your ass.” She clenched around his finger, ready to come, so close. She couldn’t speak. She could barely breathe. My God, yes. With a slow slide he withdrew his finger and plunged his cock in her. Fast. Hard. His flesh smacking against hers.
He reached around and pressed his fingers to her clit. Her entire body stiffened and tightened. The muscles in her sex pulsed. She careened over the edge. Norris pressed his mouth against her shoulder, muffling the roar that escaped him. His body thrust against hers and they fell into the pleasure.
Fucking was fantastic. But Norris found himself musing, dissatisfied, as he walked down Main Street. At some point they needed to have a conversation about what the hell they were doing. He pulled open the door to the shop he’d noticed yesterday, when he and Clarissa had eaten lunch at the bakery. Tiny statues, delicate and otherworldly, lined the shelf in the window. He focused on the one that had caught his eye—a beautiful winged fairy, with wild dark curls and wonderment in her eyes. Clarissa. The figurine captured elements of Clarissa most people weren’t privy to, and wouldn’t believe she possessed.
Home for the Holidays: A Contemporary Romance Anthology Page 36