Stocking Stuffers: A Five Story Christmas Anthology

by E. J. Darling

  “I can do that.”

  “Can you see if she has time to make something else? I’m thinking I’d like some brownies or cookies to go along with the cheesecakes. The caterers are handling everything but dessert.”

  “I’ll ask.”

  “Excellent. Now, what do you think about the outside lights? I was thinking I might need to add more.”

  Her decorations rival the most decorated houses in any Christmas movie ever made. Any more and I’m afraid she’ll either short circuit the entire neighborhood or set her house on fire.

  “For the love of God, I don’t think you need more lights.” I move my phone from one hand to the other, switching ears. “There’s no reason we need to be able to see your house from space. I know it’s hard to believe, but there’s such a thing as too much.”

  “You’re no fun.” She sighs. “I guess the lights I have are fine. And don’t worry about finding a sweater, I’ve already got one for you and Sebastian. You’re both going to love them.”

  I smile into the phone. At least I won’t be the only one looking like an idiot in front of the whole town. She picked out our sweaters last year too, and I wasn’t sure she could top humping reindeer. “Perfect. I’m sure they’re hideous.”

  Her musical laugh sounds through the phone. “The absolute worst. See you tomorrow, Nashton. Love you.”

  “Love you too, Mom.” I hang up the phone and slide it in my back pocket.

  I shout my goodbyes down the basement and as I’m shoving my arms in the sleeves of my jacket, a smile slowly spreads across my face. Going to Sweet Pies to pick up goodies for my mom gives me an excuse to drop in for my favorite pastime.

  Needling my little sweet pie.

  Chapter Four

  Julia

  I’d been prepared to run around like the proverbial chicken with its head cut off. What I didn’t expect is to be so buried that I’m jealous of a decapitated chicken. Wouldn’t be so bad if Marcy had shown up to work like she was supposed to. Although if I’m honest, the fact she finally flaked isn’t the least bit surprising. I’ve been waiting for it, but figured she’d have the decency to wait until after the New Year.

  I’m supposed to close at four thirty, but with four and a half hours left and the custom cake orders that still need to be finished, there’s no way I’ll be leaving until tonight. I sigh, and box another dozen red velvet cupcakes.

  The door chimes and I don’t spare it a glance as I pass the long white box, complete with my logo, to the soccer mom who’d been patiently waiting. “Hope you enjoy and have a merry Christmas.”

  “That’s a good look for you, Jules.”

  Nash. In my head—because I’m a professional—I groan and roll my eyes. Freaking shoot me now. Just what I need. Nash to bother the fuck out of me when I’m elbows deep in work. Of course he looks all put together in his dark jeans and charcoal button up wool jacket, and I’m sure I look like the walking definition of a hot mess. I can feel my hair coming out of my bun, and I’m positive there’s frosting smudged on me somewhere. Ask me if I give a single fuck.

  The three ladies in front of Nash are still browsing the case so I smooth a hand down the front of my Sweet Pies apron and walk down to the end of the display. I stop in front of him, cross my arms over my chest, and give him a look daring him to piss me off. “What are you doing here? If you’ve come to harass me, it’ll have to wait.”

  He gazes around the shop before he eyes narrow on me. “Are you here by yourself? Where’s your help?”

  I tuck an errant hair behind my ear and sigh. “She didn’t show up this morning. As you can see, I’m pretty busy.”

  I turn and walk back to the register where two of the ladies look ready to order. After boxing up some cookies and truffles, I eye Nash. His brows are pinched together, in what I call his thinking face, as he regards the shop.

  His gaze meets mine and he runs a hand through his hair. “How long are you open?”

  “Four thirty. But there’s so much to get done I’ll probably be here pretty late.” I sigh again and drop my shoulders. It’s going to be a long day and I’m already exhausted.

  “And if you had help?”

  My eyes shift to the clock then back to his. “If I had help, I might be able to get enough done to leave on time. But I’m not counting on Marcy coming in. I’ll probably never see her again.”

  I glance at the customer, browsing the display, while the door chimes as two more people come in. Nash skirts around the undecided woman and steps behind the counter.

  I run over to him and whisper, “what do you think you’re doing?”

  Nash pulls off his winter coat revealing a long sleeve white Henley underneath. It stretches across his chest, highlighting his muscles. My eyes widen slightly and I try to swallow with my now constricted throat. You don’t get those bad boys sitting behind the desk every day. I’m momentarily lost in thought, thinking about smoothing my hands over his bare chest, before I shake myself back to reality.

  He hangs the pink apron around his neck and ties it at his narrowed waist. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m helping.”

  “What’s the catch? What do you stand to gain from this? I feel like I’m missing something.” My head pulls back and my brows slam together.

  “Believe it or not, I can be nice.”

  “Highly doubtful.”

  “I know I’m a lawyer, but I think I can work your register and box up goodies so long as you don’t mind me taking the occasional sample. Come on, sweets.” He flashes me a toothy grin that I immediately want to slap off his stupidly handsome face. “Let me help you.”

  I scoff, not knowing what else to do or sure how to respond to his proposition.

  The last time he tried to ‘help’ I ended up with no boyfriend and an intact hymen. Nash has been nothing but a complete asshole manwhore. I’m not sure what bothers me more, him sleeping his way through Denver, bringing his whore-devours back to flaunt them through town, or being a dick to me at every turn.

  Before I protest, he’s pushing me toward the back, greeting the customers that trickled in and starts taking orders. Well. He’s surprisingly competent. I consider staying up front, but Nash seems to have things under control, and I do have a shit-ton of work to do in the back. As much as I love this place, I don’t want to spend the entire weekend before Christmas in it. It’s not like I’d be far away. He can easily find me if he runs into trouble.

  I spend the next several hours decorating and boxing up my custom cake orders. Every now and then Nash appears in the back, asking for a cake. He’s been a life saver. I still don’t know what to think. He’s an ass, then he’s downright helpful. It’s got my head spinning around like a dreidel. He hasn’t said one snarky thing the entire time he’s been here.

  If it wasn’t for his help, I’d have been here for hours after closing just to get everything done. What do I do now? A thank you doesn’t seem like enough. A hug is too much. I’ve made a point to never touch Nash. Putting my hands on him inevitably puts dirty thoughts in my head, and there’s no way I’ll ever willingly go there.

  I walk back out to the front with the cheesecakes for Nash’s mom and my last cake order. After placing them behind the counter, I lean against the doorway to watch him work. He does look nice in a pink apron, I’ll give him that.

  “Thank you, Sarah. You have a good day.” He winks at Ms. Cole, our old high school math teacher, as he hands her a box of cupcakes. She blushes, tucking her chin down in her puffy winter jacket, before leaving. He turns around and his lips curl in a smile.

  I push off the doorframe and take a tentative step toward him. “Mrs. James will be in for her cake. That’s my last customer for the day.” I give Nash a long look, searching his face for anything that may indicate he’s here under false pretenses. I shake my head, finding none. “I don’t know why you’re helping me, but I appreciate it. Thank you, Nash.”

  “You can thank me with anything that’s left in the case. I�
��ll be my mom’s hero if I bring anything else of yours to the Christmas Eve party. She’s always going on about how she loves this place, and she may have mentioned getting something to go with the cheesecakes.”

  “I’ll do you one better.” I grab a box and fill it with the remaining cookies and brownies. “You and Sebastian can have these, and I’ll make something for your mom in the morning, so it’ll be fresh.”

  He grabs the box from me, shoving a chocolate chip cookie in his mouth. He moans as he chews. I wonder if he makes sounds like that when he eats other things. Dammit. Him being nice is frying my brain.

  “But don’t think this means we’re friends. I still don’t like you.” I give him a sideways glance.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it. I don’t like you either.”

  “Good.”

  “Good.” He grins.

  My eyes narrow on his smug face and before I can open my mouth for a good insult, the door chimes.

  “Hello,” Mrs. James calls out with a wave. “Merry Christmas, Julia.”

  “Merry Christmas. Perfect timing, I just boxed up your cake.” I stand straight, force a smile, and speak with my most polite customer service voice.

  Mrs. James eyes Nash speculatively. “Who’s your helper? He sure is handsome.”

  Nash’s deep laugh has tingles shooting up and down my spine. I shift and stretch out my legs. Must have been a long day on my feet.

  “He thinks he is.” Although I might agree, I’ll never admit it out loud. “Did Weston make it home?”

  “He did, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to eat this marvelous cake without him.” Her eyes brighten and the look on her face tells me she’s up to no good. “He’s stuck up on the mountain with Cami. Sounds like they might be spending Christmas together.”

  My hand flies to my mouth and I let out a mocked gasp while Nash chuckles behind me. “I know you would never meddle and send him up there on purpose.”

  “I would absolutely never do that.” The wiggling of her eyebrows says otherwise.

  “Well, good luck to you.” I come out from behind the counter and carefully hand her the cake. “I’ll be rooting for them.”

  Mrs. James makes a face that looks like she sucked on an especially tart lemon, and I suppress a laugh. West and I didn’t know each other well in high school, but I knew how hard it was for Cami to be left behind when he moved away. Them being stuck together would either end with a long overdue reconciliation or a fucking disaster.

  “Well, you two enjoy yourselves.” Mrs. James sends me a wink before settling her gaze on Nash. “She’s a good one. If you’re lucky enough to get her, don’t be stupid enough to let her go.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Nash looks affronted, like he’d never think to let me go. He can keep dreaming. He’ll never get me in the first place.

  I roll my eyes as soon as Mrs. James is out the door. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” I mimic him, changing my voice to a deep timbre. I roll my eyes a second time. “You’re such an ass.”

  “I’ve been told I have a nice ass.” Nash pulls the apron from his neck and hangs it on one of the wall hooks. “Women always have nice things to say about me. Except for you.”

  “Maybe to your face. I’m sure they have plenty to say behind your back.”

  “More than likely. But since I only see them once, I really don’t care.”

  I snap my mouth shut, turn to walk away, but then whirl back to him. “Once is probably enough. I bet it’s not worth it to come back a second time. Who wants to be disappointed twice?”

  Nash shrugs. My disapproval over his love ‘em and leave ‘em attitude never bothered him before, and I’m sure it doesn’t now. He claims he doesn’t have time for a proper relationship, and that’s why he never indulged in them. I figure it’s because he’s spineless and has a pencil dick.

  And I don’t see that changing anytime soon. Spines don’t grow overnight, and pencil dicks are forever.

  While I appreciate Nash’s help today, and will make something delicious for his mom to make up for it, I need to get away from him. Or, at the very least, need a buffer. The longer I stay around Nash, the more I want to inflict him with violence. Right hook, leg sweep, eye gouge, throat punch.

  “Sebastian’s probably bored out of his mind. You can head on out.”

  “Why?” He pretends to look hurt. “You don’t want to be alone with me?”

  “No.”

  It’s clear he’s not leaving without me, the jerk, so I start turning out the lights.

  He chuckles. “What happened to that boyfriend of yours? What’s his name? Clark? Chris? Cain?”

  “Cannon. He fell into my friend’s vagina a few months ago.”

  “Ouch.” He flinches, leading the way out of the shop. “You can’t recover from that.”

  I flick the final light switch and lock up behind us. “Nope.”

  “No one since then?”

  That’s an odd question. Since when is he interested in my dating life? He never asked or showed any interest before. He must be exhausted from putting in a day's worth of work that didn’t involve sitting behind a desk.

  “Look, Nash.” I narrow my eyes on him. “I don’t think it’s any of your damn business who I date or don’t date. Don’t pretend like this little Christmas visit means you’re involved with my life in any way. You’re my brother’s friend. Not mine.”

  “Noted.” The muscle in his jaw ticks. “Let’s go. I’m driving.”

  I push past him. “Good for you. I’m driving myself. I’ll be back to the house shortly. Toodles.”

  I raise my hand and wiggle my fingers back and forth in a casual wave. I contemplate giving him the finger, but since I’m still in front of my shop, I need to keep some level of professionalism. Such a shame.

  I keep walking down the sidewalk toward my car without so much as a backward glance. Lucky me, I have a nice pair of ass hugging jeans on, and I make sure to walk with an extra swish in my hips. There’s no doubt in my mind this ladies’ man is watching me make my way down the sidewalk. Welcome to the show. He’s not the only one around here with a nice ass, and I’m not afraid to use mine to my advantage.

  A smile stretches across my face as Nash’s low rumbling laugh follows me to my car, confirming he is, in fact, watching my every move.

  Chapter Five

  Nash

  Jules is the biggest pain in the ass. The ass she swished all the way to the car when she knew damn well I watched. I spend the entire drive back to her place thinking about shriveled old ladies, baseball diamonds, the spot of bird shit on my windshield. Anything and everything to get my dick soft before I face Bash. I don’t need him thinking I’m coming home with a boner from his sister. Even if that’s exactly the case.

  Despite the ass distraction giving her a head start, I’m still able to beat Jules to the house. It looked like she drove a different way. Which is perfect, because I have no idea if Bash has got all the Christmas tree stuff up from the basement. There was so much of it, I’m probably an asshole for leaving him to do it alone. Between the four trees and all the other crap she has, I bet there’s enough stuff to fill up her entire basement.

  “Hey baby, I got us some cookies,” I call out to Bash in a sing-songy voice as I swing open the front door.

  “More cookies?” His face appears from behind the naked Christmas tree set up to the right of the fireplace, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Didn’t think I’d put on ten pounds this holiday.” He holds his stomach.

  I chuckle. I’m figuring out Bash is his best self when he has a continuous supply of cookies. I guess he didn’t quite get enough yesterday. “Yeah. More cookies. Do you still need some help in the basement or did you manage to haul everything up yourself?”

  “I think I’ve got everything.” Bash steps out from behind the tree, wiping a few stray pine needles from his shirt. “Whatever I’m missing, I figured you can get later. I also ordered dinner. Should be here in thirty. You�
��re welcome.”

  I reach out and pat him on the shoulder as I walk by and head to the kitchen. “You’re going to make a good wife one day.”

  “Fuck off. Give me the damn cookies.”

  “You’re going to ruin your appetite.” I tsk and give him my best imitation of my mom’s disapproving stare. The one that usually comes out when she asks me about marriage and kids. She’s been ready for grandkids like yesterday, and I don’t want them ever. No woman has made me change my mind yet, and as long as they continue to be disposable, I’m not sure one will.

  He blindly reaches into the box, pulls out a cookie, and shoves it in his mouth. Always a charmer, this one. “Worth it.”

  The front door slams shut, and Bash and I both freeze in place, waiting to see what kind of reaction we’ll get from this Christmas ambush.

  “Hey, guys. What is all this? What’s going on?”

  Good news, she sounds confused, which is way better than pissed. As much as I like to poke the bear, I’m not trying to piss her off with this. Not when it involves the memory of her parents.

  Bash’s shoulders relax and he blows out a loud breath before turning around and gesturing toward the tree with an outstretched hand. “Surprise.”

  Her brows furrow as she looks at the tree and back at us. “I see that. We usually don’t put up a tree.”

  “Well, usually we do.” Bash’s gaze falls to the ground, and he shuffles his feet. “At least we did before the accident. I know it’s hard, but I want to have Christmas again. A real Christmas. With you.”

  Jules nods, her eyes tearing up, but she quickly swipes them away with the back of her hand. “I think I’d like that. Maybe we can start some new traditions?”