Hot for the Holidays (21 Holiday Short Stories): A Collection of Naughty and Nice Holiday Romances

by Anthology

  "B, it’s me. Open up," Cooper’s voice booms through the wood, clipped and rushed, making him sound like an insane boyfriend. Which he’s not.

  For an instant, I’m scared. He’s never yelled at me like that, and I wonder if he’s pissed at me. I swing open the door, half hurt that he could believe I would do something so cheap and stupid, and half angry that he thinks he has a say in it. Cooper’s no saint. I know he’s slept with at least two girls. I caught each of them sneaking out of his window one summer back home. Now that he has his own apartment, and no reason to sneak around, he’s probably going through enough condoms to help pay for Trojan advertising.

  I’ve barely gotten the door open when Cooper storms in and grips my biceps. There’s desperation in his eyes, stiffness in his shoulders, and the muscles in his jaw are pulsing. "Are you okay?" He’s looking me over like I’ve just gotten out of the hospital. I feel the tremors in his hands before I see him shaking.

  "I’m fine." Pulling my arms loose, I step back and shove the door shut with my foot. "What’s going on?" The way he’s acting throws me off. I didn’t expect him to react this way.

  "I—" He shakes his head back and forth, struggling to get the words out. I want to save him, let him know the rumors aren’t true, but I’m kind of curious to know what he’s heard. Are the rumors getting worse? By the time they make their way around campus, I’ll have had sex on the back of a horse while trotting through town.

  "Hey," I begin, trying to calm him with my tone. "I’m fine. Sit down and tell me what you’ve heard." I lace my fingers through his and lead him toward my bed.

  He takes one look at Ava and nods politely, huffing out a breath.

  "Hi, Cooper," Ava sings as she stands and picks up her laptop. She can’t take her eyes off him as she backs up toward the door. "I’ve got a paper to finish. Catch you guys later."

  It’s just the two of us after she shuts the door. "Come on, sit down." I look at his knuckles and can tell he hasn’t used them on anyone. Thank God.

  Cooper plops down next to me so hard, I sink and bang into his side. He turns to face me, his eyes wild with concern and anger. "I had to come here first to make sure you were okay. Did he hurt you? Did he force . . ." He scrubs his palms over his face. "What were you thinking going to that party, B?" He stands and turns away from me. "That son of a bitch!"

  Damn it, not you too. "It’s all a lie, Coop." My eyes blink closed and stay there for at least a three count as disappointment fills me.

  He whirls around to face me, but his features are flat and unreadable.

  Pushing off the bed, I stand and raise my arms. "Jesus, I can’t believe you think I’d . . . what does that say about me? You think I’m some cheap skank that would drop my panties for the first loser that looks my way?" Every part of my body feels like it’s been filled with wet sand, weighing me down.

  Cooper blinks several times, a look of surprise on his face that pisses me off. "You didn’t sleep with Kyle?"

  "No. I didn’t." There’s a bite in my tone, and I hope he hears it. "But there’s still a few hours left in the day. I’m sure I—"

  Suddenly, he pulls me in, wrapping his arms around me so tight I have to fight for oxygen. "I’m sorry. You know I don’t think you’re a skank. I assumed he . . . I would’ve . . ." He pulls away, his hands gripping my shoulders, and looks into my eyes. Something unspoken settles between us but not long enough for me have a feeling about it one way or another. He briefly drops his gaze to the floor and when he looks back up, his eyes are narrowed and angry again. "You know I’d kill anyone that hurt you."

  "I know, Coop," I mumble against his chest. "That’s why I’ve been calling you non-stop. Why haven’t you answered?"

  He sits back down on my bed, pulling me down with him. "Shit. I dropped it in the toilet and it went code black on me. I’ve got it in a bag of rice."

  I frown and have to think about it for a second. "How did you . . . why were you holding your phone while . . . eww, never mind." I punch his leg to relieve some of my frustrated anger, but it doesn’t help enough to stop wishing genital warts on Roxanna. "If you feel duped out of pounding someone into the ground, you could always take a swing at Roxanna Talbot. Or hold her legs while I kick her ass."

  Cooper laughs so hard, the bed shakes, which makes me laugh. It feels good to switch emotions. Anger is like a cancer that eats little pieces of me, and I can feel my personality morphing into something ugly.

  "You want me to hold her legs," his voice rises an octave as he makes fun of me, "while you slap her with these sweet little girl arms." He gives my biceps a squeeze, proving to the both of us that I have zero muscle, and possibly no bones either.

  I smirk and narrow my eyes at him. "You’re an ass, Cooper Sterling."

  "Maybe, but you know you’re lucky to have me." He flashes that cocky smile that used to drive me insane. It has a different affect on me today but I school the tiny niggle in my chest, and decide to save the interpretation for another day.

  "Damn straight." I send an elbow into his thigh and summons my smart ass. "Luckiest girl in the world to have this large lummox on my side."

  He gives my knee a squeeze until I squeal and stands to leave. The laughter slowly fades and I can see relief wash over him. "I’m glad it was just a rumor, B. You deserve better." There’s something in his voice that I can’t discern. "Someone who loves you and knows how to treat you right." He walks to the door and stops to look back. "As far as Roxanna, ignore her. She’s a jealous bitch that just got dumped by her high school sweetheart. I think he’s with her best friend now. Watch and see, she’ll self-destruct all on her own."

  Geez. I fold my arms over my chest. "Well, now I feel sorry for her. Thanks a lot."

  He smirks. "I do what I can to keep the asshole rep alive." He tips his head before stepping through the door, only his face peeking around the door frame now. "One-four-three."

  Before I can say it back, he’s gone. It’s something we’ve said since we were kids. Our version of I love you. I can hear six-year old Cooper in my head, "Without all the squishy romantic shit." We thought we were cool having a code that no one knew about. I still whisper it into the empty room, for my sake and as a thank you for having a best friend like him. Someone that has my back no matter what. I know he would’ve been disappointed if the rumor were true, but not in me. He’d be disappointed that I got duped. That I had an experience that wasn’t worthy of my expectations. Cooper Sterling was the best thing I had going for myself, and it was my mission to make sure he knew it.

  One-four-three, Coop.

  Chapter Two

  Cooper

  It’s two in the morning when I finally fall asleep on the hard surface of my Business Communications textbook. I have no doubt I’m drooling on the pages, but I can’t move my head the five inches onto my pillow. My body is too drained from studying for exams and worrying about Briley. The thought of someone hurting her, taking her body without permission, physically causes me pain.

  There are so many levels to our relationship, always changing and morphing into something new. We have a strong connection. Stronger than anything I’ve ever felt with my own sister. Maybe because she’s older and never needed me the way Briley has.

  It’s strange though, I’ve always felt the need to protect her like she was my little sister, but I’m attracted to her—unlike a sister—and have to hide that fact because we’re best friends and have been since we were kids. I tried to tell her once, in fifth grade. Big mistake. It made things uncomfortable between us for a long time, and I thought I’d lost her friendship for good.

  But girls are fickle, and I guess she changed her mind about hanging out with me again. So I keep my feelings to myself. I try—and fail—not to be overprotective, and treat her like one of the guys. If she didn’t have the longest lashes I’ve ever seen, surrounding those large brown orbs of innocence, and the sexiest curves every guy dreams about, I could easily treat her like one of the dudes. She can even
hold her own on the basketball court and smack talk with the best of them. Fucking sexy as hell.

  On the outside I’m holding up pretty well, living college life to the fullest. I’ve got girls, a pretty fair course load—my earliest class is ten a.m.—and a group of buddies that like to hang out on the weekends and strum out a few chords. But I crave more. Every night I fall asleep alone. And every night I dream of Briley.

  The sound of my bedroom door creaking wakes me up, but I’m only able to mumble around my fatigue. When the creaking continues, I get the sick feeling I’m about to get punked. I’m all about a good prank and having fun, but not tonight, not now.

  Feeling around, I find my pillow and pull it over my head. "Fuck off," I mumble, raising my arm to flip off the disturber of my slumber.

  "Sorry, sorry," her small, sweet voice whispers before the door begins to close.

  "Briley?" I roll over, pull the pillow away from my eyes, and squint to focus. "Come in." I wave my hand until she steps through the door. "What’s going on?" It’s not out of the norm for her to come over unannounced, but it’s late. "What time is it?" Maybe it’s early, and I slept past my alarm.

  "Sorry, Coop." I can hear the regret in her voice. "It’s really late. I shouldn’t have come. Go back to sleep." She turns to leave.

  "B—" I throw back the covers and fling my legs over the side of the bed. "C’mere." My arm stretches out to her, staying suspended in the air until she reaches the bed and takes a seat next to me.

  "I thought you’d still be awake." She rolls her head back and sighs. "Actually, I didn’t consider it. I planned to sneak in."

  "You okay?" My eyes have finally adjusted, and there’s enough moonlight filtering through the window to see she’s been crying.

  "Yeah, just a rotten day, you know?" Her hands are in her lap and she’s fidgeting, pushing her cuticles back like she always does when she’s about to cry. It’s a distraction for her.

  I wrap an arm around her and pull her into my side, her head automatically resting on my arm. Growing up next door to each other, there were many nights when she climbed through my bedroom window and curled up next to me in bed. I learned a long time ago not to try and fix her, but to listen and just be there. She used to cry about her father’s death a lot, and that’s not something anyone can fix. Sometimes people just need to grieve, and the only thing they want is the warmth and comfort of someone they trust to release those precious tears with.

  But this isn’t about her dad tonight. This is about the rumor. My instinct is to fix it, but I don’t know how. If it was a dude, I’d kick his ass, but a girl spread these rumors so I’m at a loss.

  "Did something else happen? You said you confronted her and said what needed to—"

  "Nothing else happened," she interrupts me. "I just can’t believe anyone can be so vicious." Her body stiffens before she scoots around to face me. "Who raises these types of people? I mean . . . shit. Why does she hate me so much?" She’s getting heated, her whisper getting louder. "Better yet, why the hell does she care so much about my sex life? Does she expect me to check in with her?" She’s in full animated speech mode, one arm in the air, the other hand next to her ear like she’s holding a phone. "Hello, Roxanna. What can I do today to please your fancy ass?"

  A light chuckle slips out. "You don’t care what she thinks—"

  "No, I don’t." A balled fist rests on her hip while she snaps out, "Hooker."

  "Cheap hooker," I second her. "Probably only gets five bucks for head."

  "Gross," she protests, wrinkling her cute little nose. "Too far, Coop." She laughs and I feel I’ve done my part. I love to hear her intoxicating giggle. She can’t do it without it lighting up her entire face, and when she laughs, you join her.

  A long moment of silence follows. It’s not uncomfortable, though. Nothing’s ever been uncomfortable with her. Except the cold shoulder in fifth grade, of course, but that was a long time ago.

  Without saying a word, I lie back on my pillow and pull her down with me, easing the comforter over us. She assumes the position—her head on my chest, one arm draped over my stomach—and we fall asleep.

  I still dream about her. Always do.

  * * *

  Exams are finally over, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so grateful for the break. Everything I need for the next month is packed, and I’ve shoved every piece of clothing I own into a couple of garbage bags to wash. You don’t realize how bad things smell until you pile them together in one place. Like the odor’s been amplified.

  It didn’t work out for Briley and me to drive home together. Her exams ended before mine, and she was eager to get home. Which is fine. I need the time alone. Christmas is her favorite holiday, so I take the entire drive home to think of what to get her.

  Two and half hours later, when I open the front door to my childhood home, the scent of Christmas welcomes me. Mix the comfort of being in your childhood home with the scent of cinnamon and bottled pine trees and there’s no feeling to top it.

  After the ceremonial hugs and catch up conversation with Mom, Dad, and my sister, Claire, I start a load of laundry before my mom can get hold of it. She wouldn’t complain about washing my clothes, but she’d give me an earful of how bad everything smells and ask me why I wasn’t using the apartment laundry room. Then I’d have to make some shit up about how it’s broken or nasty. But the truth is, I’m lazy.

  * * *

  I haven’t seen Briley in almost two weeks and it’s killing me. We’ve been reduced to texting and short phone calls between holiday parties and shopping. I’m having dinner with her and her mom tonight—Christmas Eve, per our yearly tradition. They always come to a party at our house on New Year’s Eve, but I have to break the news to her tonight that I won’t be there this year.

  My parents and sister are in the living room when I’m ready to head out. They’re watching It’s a Wonderful Life like they do every year. I love the traditions my family keeps.

  "I’m going over," I announce.

  "You’re not wearing a tie?" My mother starts to get up, but I hold up a hand.

  "No. I’m wearing a button down. Good enough." I’ve got on a white shirt that I’ve ironed and a clean pair of jeans. I feel pretty good about the way I’ve cleaned up. But even though I’m twenty years old, I have no doubt my mother would stick a tie around my neck and tuck my hair behind my ears if I let her.

  Claire wiggles her eyebrows up and down, slipping into the annoying big sister role. "Have fun."

  I give her the finger, but we’re both smiling.

  "Don’t forget the packages," Dad calls out over his shoulder. "And tell Briley and Nina Merry Christmas for us."

  "Will do." I nod and step outside into the cool air.

  Ten steps and I’m at the front door, pressing the red nose on the reindeer doorbell Briley’s mom puts out every year.

  The door swings open and Briley nearly knocks me off the front porch when she jumps into my arms. "Merry Christmas, Coop!" Her welcome is so animated, you’d think we haven’t seen each other in months.

  I can’t help my sarcasm. "It’s so good to finally see you, B. You’ve changed so much over the past two weeks."

  A punch to the arm is delivered as expected. "Shut up," she says. Her goofy grin makes me smile. "You know this is my favorite holiday."

  Every year I get a tour of the house so I can see the decorations Briley and her mom worked so hard on. My family puts up a tree, and we decorate the hell out of it with every ornament my parents have collected over the years. But the Sheffield’s house is Christmas on crack.

  Briley takes my hand and leads me through their own personal Christmas village. The living room hosts a traditional tree with every handmade ornament Briley has ever made from preschool up, plus an ornament from every vacation spot they’ve ever been to. She has a white tree in her bedroom with Hello Kitty ornaments. (Yeah, she still hasn’t outgrown the kitty, and I wonder if she ever will.) The guest bathroom has a miniature
tree that sits on the countertop. It has cream and gold balls, matching the bathroom décor. The dining room tree is done in crosses of every shape, size, and color, her mother’s favorite. And finally, the one in the kitchen is dressed in kitchen type stuff—tiny whisks and measuring cups. I only know this because she has shown me the same trees every year.

  Instead of studying the decorations, I watch Briley’s expression as she tells me about them. She’s so happy and excited that I soak her up and feed off her energy like a battery charge.

  "What the hell is this?" I ask, lifting a gold porcelain boot and letting it fall back down. The creature looks part elf, part old lady, with a touch of Santa.

  "It’s Mr. Claus, of course." Her face pinches as she looks at me like I’ve lost my head.

  "I don’t think so, B. You’ve been duped. This . . . thing looks nothing like—"

  "Gah!" She rolls her eyes and picks up the porcelain doll. "It’s art, Coop."

  Oh. Art. What the hell was I thinking? "It’s weird."

  "I agree." She shrugs a shoulder and huffs out a sweet giggle.

  The wonderful smells coming from the kitchen are a welcome distraction. My stomach growls just as Mrs. Sheffield calls us to the dining room.

  Briley picks at her dinner while I clean my plate. Mrs. Sheffield is a magnificent cook and I’ve stuffed myself on ham, turkey, sweet potatoes, and her homemade flaky rolls until I’m uncomfortable. I have to pass on dessert until after we open presents. I can’t wait to see Briley’s reaction to my gift. She’s going to flip, I’m sure of it.

  Briley’s mom waves me off when I try to help clear the table. "You two go on. I’m going to have a cup of coffee and leave the dishes for a bit."

  Briley bounces into the living room, and I follow behind. I take a seat on the floor, leaning against the base of the couch. We do this every year and I have to check myself so she doesn’t see through me. Truth is, I love being with her during the holidays. The way her eyes light up over every detail—food, decorating, presents, she even loves wrapping presents. This right here, being with her, feels like home as much as my own home does.