What’s worse is his dad seems to think her reactions are hysterical, as evidenced by his continued questions shot her way and poorly concealed chuckles at her reactions.
Matt reaches for my hand. I try to let his action reassure me. It’s impossible though. Twenty minutes ago, I was seconds away from an orgasm. Now, I’m seconds away from what will probably be the most awkward meal of my life.
I’m ordering loaded tater tots, and a drink. Scratch that, like five drinks. Howard makes a point of walking next to me as we approach the restaurant, leaving Matt to walk with his mom. Even though he talks to me as we walk, I’m distracted, trying to catch what Matt’s mom is saying.
Shit, did she say my name? Is she telling Matt right now I’m a hoochie?
“—in testing?”
Crap! I missed his question.
I turn toward him and blink. “I’m sorry. What did you ask?”
“Matt told us you work in product testing, and I asked what you have in testing now.”
I blush, feeling silly for making him repeat himself. “We’re experimenting with a plastic alternative to the metal they use in the coil for spiral notebooks.”
His brows come together. “How’s it going?”
Tucking a flyaway of hair behind my ear, I reply, “It’s still early. Our tests are to determine the longevity of the product.”
I’m saved from having to bore him anymore when we reach the hostess. Luckily, there isn’t a wait and we’re seated right away.
I slide into the booth first, Matt moving in next to me. His mother also sits first, putting her right across from me. It takes all I have to not try and order a shot or tequila from the hostess.
No, ordering a shot would look bad. I’ll get a margarita. It’s like stealth mode tequila.
A woman in a pink cowgirl costume approaches our booth. “Hello folks. I’m Heather, and I’ll be your server tonight.”
“Hi there, Heather. How are you doing?” Howard asks.
If she notices the fact that he was the only one to respond, she doesn’t let on. “I’m great, thanks. What about you guys, having a good Halloween?”
His dad looks at us and replies, “It sure has been interesting.”
Her brows knit together and before she can answer, I lean over to Matt and say, “I’d love a margarita please.”
Her eyes move from Howard to me, and then she nods, pulling a pen from her apron to take my order.
I don’t miss Joan’s look of annoyance. Seriously, screw her. I’m not the one who didn’t knock. Nope, all I did was get my freak on with my man in my own home.
There is nothing I can do now to undo what happened. She’s the one who’s making it worse by acting bothered. At least her husband has a sense of humor about the whole thing.
“You doing okay?” Matt murmurs in my ear.
I lift my brows. He’s lucky I love him. Still, there’s no way I’m answering that ridiculous question.
I’m also saved by Heather coming back with our drinks. She becomes my favorite cowgirl ever when she passes me my drink first. I lift my glass and drink while Matt, his mom, and his dad all place their dinner orders. When it’s my turn, I order another margarita first, ignoring Matt’s chuckle, then order my food.
As soon as Heather is gone, I return my attention to my drink. Matt drapes his arm around my shoulders and grins at his dad. My drink makes that slurp noise as my straw seeks more tequila in vain.
Mr. Clark returns his grin and lifts his drink. “I like her.”
Mrs. Clark makes that ‘hmpf’ noise again.
With a clunk, I set my glass on the table.
“What is your problem?” I snap at her.
Her jaw drops as Matt tenses beside me.
Neither stops me from continuing. “I don’t understand what you’re in an awful mood about. Or why you seemed annoyed at me?”
I turn my face to look up at Matt. “Or is this just her personality?”
I don’t give him a chance to reply as I keep talking. “Cause you said she would like me.” I gesture across the table to her but keep my eyes on him. “She so does not like me.”
He slips his hand from around me and pulls my motioning hand down and into his lap. “Babe, calm down.”
There’s a sniffle from across the table before his mom says, “Are you going to let her talk to me like that?”
Matt looks from me to his mom. “Jesus, Mom. You know how I feel about Sasha, and you’ve been nothing but rude to her since I introduced you. I love you but you’re acting put out that you walked in on us.”
My gaze shifts to her face.
She pouts, “But I have a key.”
Matt looks at his dad, who shrugs in a way that implies good luck trying to make your mother see reason.
“I gave you that key the last time you and Dad came for an actual more-than-one-day visit so you wouldn’t have to rely on me to let you in when I had to go to work.”
“But you didn’t ask for it back,” she argues.
He drags his hand over his face. “That does not give you free reign to come and go as you please without giving me a head’s up. Especially now that Sasha has moved in. It’s not just my place anymore.”
“I told you to knock,” Howard mutters.
She reaches into her purse and makes a dramatic production of taking the key off of her keychain. “I know when I’m not welcome.”
“Mom,” Matt grumbles, not taking the key when her hand shoots across the table with it.
“It’s fine,” she snaps in a tone that clearly means the exact opposite.
This is awful, actually awful.
“Can we just start over?” I blurt out.
They all look at me. Matt has an expression of hope, his father appears to be on the verge of laughing, and his mom’s face is unreadable.
We’re interrupted as Heather hurries over with my second margarita. She’s a step away when her foot slides out from under her causing her to tumble to the ground, my drink still in the hand she tries to break her fall with.
The glass breaks, a shard of it nicking her palm. A couple waiters rush over and Matt jumps up to help her. As she stands, blood drips down her fingers.
Matt mutters, “Fuck,” before trying to shield my view.
He knows better than most that I throw up when I see blood. I pinch my eyes shut and cover my mouth with my hands.
“I need a to-go bag now!” he shouts, making everyone look from our bleeding cowgirl waitress to him.
Another waiter glances past him to me and then promptly grabs us a bag. Matt opens it for me and holds my hair back as I puke.
Once I’m done, a waiter leads him away, not wanting to handle my puke bag. Ashamed, I look down at my lap, my eyes stinging with tears.
A napkin enters my view and I look up to see Matt’s mom has moved to sit next to me and is offering me a napkin.
“Here you go, sweetie.”
I hiccup back a sob as I accept it and then press it to my mouth.
She puts her hand on my arm. “Let’s go to the ladies’ room and get you freshened up, dear.”
I follow her, avoiding the eyes of the costumed and un-costumed people we pass. She waits with me while I rinse my mouth. Luckily, there’s a bar connected to this place so there are little single-use mouthwash bottles on the counter.
As I pat my mouth dry, I meet her eyes in the bathroom mirror.
“Blood makes me sick,” I explain.
“I know,” she replies.
My mouth opens in surprise.
She gives me a warm smile. “Matt told me how he took care of you one time.”
My cheeks redden. I’m certain he didn’t tell her the whole story.
“Let’s get back out there and try to salvage this dinner,” she says.
I smile back at her. “Okay.”
Once we’re back at the table, Matt glances between the both of us, his expression warming when he sees us getting along.
As soon as we’
re settled, his dad repeats, “I like her.”
The End
*If you do not own the first edition of F*cking Awkward, and would like to see how Sasha and Matt met, email me ([email protected])*
* * *
About the Author
New York Times and USA Today bestselling romance author. She was born and raised in Alexandria, Virginia. Supporting her all the way are her husband, three sometimes-adorable children, a mischievous black cat, and their nine-pound attack Yorkie. www.careyheywood.com
Books
~Love Riddles Series~
Why Now?
Why Lie?
Why Not? (coming 2017)
~Him and Her Series~
Him
Her
Them
Sawyer Says (spin off)
Being Neighborly (a novella)
~Carolina Days Series~
The Other Side of Someday
Yesterday's Half Truths
Chasing Daylight
~Standalone Novels~
A Bridge of Her Own
Uninvolved
Stages of Grace
Better
Hooked For The Holidays
Christine Manzari
The Wicked Bitch of the West put a ring on it.
That’s right. Me. Cat Maverick, the confident and snarky bitch who vowed to never fall in love, was engaged. I fell so hard for Huck I nearly concussed myself. Ours was an unexpected fairytale, one of those bizarre retellings that seemed familiar, but made you look twice to make sure you were really seeing what you thought you were. I wasn’t the typical princess, and yet I was still getting my happy ending.
No one was more surprised than me. Even more surprising was the day when I dropped to my knees in front of Huck and instead of giving him the blowjob I’m sure he was expecting, I pulled out a ring and asked him to marry me.
Maybe it wasn’t fair posing the question when I was kneeling in front of him, my mouth a tantalizing six inches from the place he wanted it most, but I figured the best course of action was to be in position to get the celebratory sex underway as soon as he said yes.
Let’s just say the lingerie I was wearing didn’t survive the celebration.
And now we were a little over a week away from the wedding, spending the Christmas holiday with his parents. Exactly a year ago, he’d broken my heart in this very house. Not on purpose, but hearts can be stupid and the memory still lingered. Suffice it to say, this was the last place I wanted to be for our first Christmas together as a legit couple.
But, Christmas Eve at the Stones was a big deal. Big enough that I’d bundled my sun-loving California ass up and took one for the team. In case there was any question before, stepping out of the airport terminal reaffirmed what I remembered—winter on the east coast was colder than Frosty’s dick.
And as if the snow on the ground wasn’t pure culture shock, my soon to be mother-in-law’s attitude was icy enough to freeze my tits off. Although to be honest, my tits were frozen as soon as we landed at BWI.
How did people survive in this weather?
“Are you really planning to wear that hoodie?” Jay asked, a disgusted look on his face.
Jay was my best friend. He was the only family I had since my mom died last year. And I was the only family he’d had since he came out of the closet when we were in college. Actually, it was less coming out and more like bursting out like the Kool-Aid man. In any case, his overly religious parents couldn’t handle the truth, and most people couldn’t handle me. We were two peas in a misshapen pod of crazy.
“I’ll take this hoodie off when I can feel my fingers again.” I rubbed my palms together and blew on them to prove a point.
We’d just gotten back from some last minute Christmas shopping and were already late for the shindig downstairs. I was in a little black dress, trying to figure out a way I could spend the rest of the night in sweats—or maybe just sweaty with my fiancé. That sounded like a much better plan that schmoozing with the co-workers, friends, and family of Huck’s parents.
“Tell her she has to take it off,” Jay said to Huck. “She’s ruining the whole ensemble I created.” Jay was an interior designer, but he never missed the opportunity to try to redecorate me.
I looked at Huck who was grinning like he was thinking the same thing I was. That I should take it off...and then we could find a dark corner and just fuck like rabbits until the night was over.
“I learned a long time ago I can’t tell Cat what to do,” Huck drawled. He approached me, desire smoldering in his gaze as he added quietly, “I don’t care what she wears as long as I get to take it all off later.”
Jay made a gagging sound. “I’m going to go find something to drink.” He turned to leave the room and as soon as he left, the doorway was filled with the bright red of an expensive gown. Inside that gown was Huck’s mother, Dana. She was holding a glass of wine and smelled like she fell into a vat of perfume and only found her way out days later.
“Oh,” she tittered. “There you two are. Everyone was asking for you. Are you coming down soon?”
I resisted the urge to tell her I wished I was coming right now...while her son was buried deep inside me.
She scanned me from head to toe, her critical eye snagging on every inch of my appearance—the bright red hair, tattoos, and indecently short black dress. She settled on the jacket I was still wearing and opened her mouth for what I expected was going to be some sort of passive aggressive insult.
The scratch of nails on hardwood startled her, and the sound was followed by a fluffy, golden dog that came careening into the door jam before entering the room.
“Pumpkin, no!” Dana yelled, right before the dog barreled into me, puppy nails catching in my hoodie as he tackled me. The fabric ripped as we fell and the next thing I knew, I was on the ground, my jacket shredded, while Pumpkin attempted to lick off every last bit of makeup I was wearing.
Ugh. So not the make out session I was hoping for.
Huck wrangled the dog off me and then shoved it out the door, pushing his mother out, too. “We’ll be down soon,” he told her as the door slammed behind her. He turned to face me, trying to hold back laughter.
“If you tell Jay about this, you’re dead.” I pushed myself up from the floor and he crossed the room to pull me against his chest before nuzzling into my neck.
“I wouldn’t dare.” He started to kiss my neck and then pulled away, swiping at his mouth as he made a face. “Dog hair.”
I rolled my eyes and pushed him away. “Go downstairs. I’ll be there in a few.”
He grabbed my chin, his mischievous grin in full effect. He pressed his mouth to mine and kissed me so hard I nearly forgot his mother’s dog had just gotten to first base with me.
“Don’t take too long,” he said in a low voice. “The sooner we make an appearance, the faster we can disappear and be alone.” He gave me a chaste kiss and then left the room.
* * *
I pushed open the back door and pulled the sweater I was wearing tight against my chest as a blast of cold air swirled around me. As much as I hated the cold, I had to admit that the back yard was beautiful. Christmas lights were strung all around the perfectly manicured gardens and patio. The pool was covered, but the lighting still gave the place an otherworldly glow. Patches of snow clung to the bushes and grass, covering everything in a thin carpet of white.
I wandered over the stones, ignoring the bite of cold as it wrapped around my legs and up the bottom of my dress. The door opened again and I looked over my shoulder to see Huck following me.
“You were supposed to come to the party,” he accused, his tone light and playful. “But somehow I knew you wouldn’t do what was expected of you.” He reached out to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. “My rebel.”
“Just needed a moment.” I sighed, knowing I didn’t have to explain. Not to Huck. He knew what this holiday meant to me. This was my first Christmas Eve without my mom and as much as I wanted
to act like everything was okay, it wasn’t. The one thing I really wanted was to lose myself in the man I loved. Not parade myself through a room full of strangers as I made small talk.
Shit. I didn’t even know how to make small talk. Chances were I’d insult ninety percent of the room before the end of the night.
As if he could read my mind, Huck wrapped his hand around the back of my neck and pulled me forward until our foreheads were touching. “How about a little quickie to take the edge off?”
I laughed. Of course he knew what I was thinking. I loved that he knew me and accepted me just as I was.
“Pool house?” he offered.
“The pool house?” I asked. I eyed the building that was set off to the side of the patio. “Is there even a bed inside?”
A shiver wracked my body and Huck slung his arm around my shoulder, pulling me tight against his side. I wanted to climb inside his clothes with him. Anything to be warm again. To be closer to him.
“Not exactly. It’s where they keep all the patio furniture and pool supplies.” He took a step toward the small building, pulling me with him.
I curled my lip in disgust. “It doesn’t sound very provocative.” To be honest, I didn’t really crave romance. I preferred down and dirty. But I also didn’t relish the idea of a quickie up against a pool raft.
Huck turned and stepped in front of me, wrapping me in an embrace that sent heat all the way to my frozen toes. I loved that he could still make me feel that way, like every touch was the very first one. He bent his head so that his hot breath trailed up the side of my neck. “Do you want romantic or do you want to be fucked?”
I didn’t have to respond. He knew the answer to that. I was almost allergic to the idea of romance, but fucking? Yes, please.
I gripped the back of his shirt and yanked, pulling it free of his jeans. “Are you still going to have a filthy mouth like that once we’re married?” I asked. “Or will you make love to me when I’m your wife?”
He started to grin, a snarky answer on the tip of his tongue, but when my hands slipped under the fabric of his shirt and touched his skin, his back arched and his breath escaped in a loud hiss.
F*CKING AWKWARD HOLIDAYS: 25 Short Stories of Awkward Holiday Encounters Page 9