by Chelle Bliss
Santa Baby
Chelle Bliss
Eden Butler
Contents
1. Maggie
2. Smoke
3. Maggie
4. Smoke
5. Maggie
6. Smoke
7. Maggie
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About Eden Butler
About Chelle Bliss
Copyright © Bliss Ink LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
Published by Bliss Ink, Chelle Bliss, and Eden Butler
Published on November 27th 2019
Edited by Silently Correcting Your Grammar
Proofread by Julie Deaton
Cover © Chelle Bliss
Maggie
The gas gauge was nearing E, and there was only one dollar left from the tips I managed to scrape together after my shift. The snow was thicker here in this small, no-name town. This wasn’t Bronxville like I thought. I’d missed my exit and was at least two towns from where I needed to be.
I’d never make it to my aunt’s. In reality, I wouldn’t make it another mile. Not with the snow, a snoring baby, and no money to get me there.
I had to face facts. I was lost. Stuck in some Hallmark-movie version of Little Italy. I gazed out the windshield, taking in the twinkling Christmas lights, and sigh. The only thing making this town remotely shady was my secondhand rust bucket of a car. It was idling on the street across from a cozy-looking restaurant that, from the looks of it, the entire town seemed to be at in celebration.
Everyone but me.
Because I was stranded.
And lost.
And a little pathetic.
Because my boss was an idiot.
Kip, the diner’s manager, didn’t care that my sitter flaked out on me. He didn’t care that I was left with a sick six-month-old with three hours left in the busiest part of the Christmas Eve rush. Kip only cared that Mateo, my sweet son, was crying loud enough to disturb the customers.
“Shut him up, Maggie, or get the fuck out of my diner,” the asshole who made the Grinch seem sweet yelled at me.
“But...” I needed half an hour to get him calm, then Vi, another waitress, would finish her shift and take him off my hands. But Kip didn’t care about anything but the rush and the baby crying in my arms.
“I just need…”
“You need to go home and take that screaming brat with you.”
He wouldn’t get my tears. “What about my tips…and my check?”
“You can square that up on your next shift.” He winced as Mateo’s crying grew louder, his shoulders curling as if the sound of a baby’s cry was going to make his ears bleed.
“Kip, I need that money to get back to my aunt’s tonight,” I begged, rocking Mateo, hoping to quiet him.
“Not my problem,” Kip growled, making me flinch.
Mateo seemed to pick up on my fear and screamed louder, his sobs drawing the attention of the customers. Kip threw up his hands and hurried into his office, slamming the door in my face before I could make him see reason.
“Ay, Dios mío …” I whispered, staring at the door, my eyes growing wet, my heart pounding.
“You all right, sugar?” Vi’s soft, rasping voice sounded over Mateo’s cries.
I turned, blinking quickly to keep myself from crying. “Kip’s just being…”
She’d always been so sweet to me. Like a mother—or, from the looks of her white hair and deeply lined face, grandmother was probably more accurate. But Vi had her own troubles. Everyone did. She didn’t need any of mine.
“A rotten prick?” The older lady shook her head as she glared at the closed door. “Always has been, always will be.” She tugged her purse over her shoulder, glancing down at Mateo’s red face, her focus on the way he pulled at his ear. “He’s teething.”
“What?” I asked, peering down at my son.
Vi nodded, touching the baby’s chin to open his mouth. “Run your finger over his gums.”
Mateo went quiet at my touch. There were two small ridges that scraped against my fingertip, making me wince.
Vi smiled, brushing the thick hair from his forehead. “Get him a teething ring. If you can’t afford that, stick a wet rag in the freezer, and when it’s ready, let him chew on it. If that doesn’t work, dip the damn thing in some whiskey. It won’t hurt him and might give him and you a little relief.” She exhaled, staring at mijo like she’d never seen anything sweeter. “If you don’t have any whiskey, I’ll steal some from Albert when he passes out.”
That would be bad for Vi. Her husband was the kind of drunk who probably kept a close eye on his stash.
Mateo calmed a little, his small body slumping against my chest as I followed Vi toward the door. “I didn’t know you had kids.”
“What I have is experience.” She held the door open for me, helping me wrestle the nearly empty diaper bag and my exhausted baby into the twelve-year-old Monte Carlo at the back of the parking lot. Vi stood next to the car as I fastened Mateo into his car seat and stuffed two thick quilts around him. When I shut the door, Vi frowned.
“What?”
“This car isn’t safe,” she said, shaking her head.
“It’s all I got. You know that.”
“That hole in the floor…” She pointed through the window, grimacing.
I dropped my shoulders, tired from my shift. “My cousin put down a piece of plywood and some epoxy. I just can’t afford anything else right now, especially not if Kip keeps running my shifts.”
“You could ask that piece of shit…”
“No, Vi,” I interrupted, not disguising the clip in my tone. “I couldn’t.” I was always kind to Vi because she’d always been good to me. But I’d never relent on this one. She knew a little bit about why I was raising Mateo on my own—but not everything.
“You’re so stubborn. The man has money.”
The laugh I released held no humor. “He has a habit, and I don’t want Mateo around him.” I rubbed my neck, pulling the edges of my coat together, wishing for the dozenth time I could afford one without missing buttons. “I don’t want my son around a drug addict, no matter if he’s his father or not.”
Vi nodded, her face hardening for a second as she looked back at the diner, like there was something she wanted to say but wouldn’t.
The snow had begun to fall around us and had started to collect on her shoulders, sticking in her thick white hair so I couldn’t make out what was a flurry or a curl.
“You should go,” I told her, squeezing her hand when she looked over my car, likely wondering if there was a single spot of the roof or around the bottom where rust hadn’t begun to eat away at the metal. “We’ll be fine.”
“You have enough gas to get to your aunt’s?”
I didn’t, but if I admitted that, Vi would insist we come home with her or that I let her give me money. There was a faint purple bruise healing under her left eye, put there by the shittiest husband any woman had ever had. I’d rather walk back to the city than risk her getting another one.
“We’ll be fine. I promise.”
&nbs
p; She began to argue, and I hurried to hug her, seeming to catch the woman off guard. She froze when I threw my arms around her, but then she relaxed, laughing when I wouldn’t let go until she returned my embrace.
“Hell, Maggie, you’re a good kid.” She patted my back, shaking her head at my car one last time before she walked away.
My eyes hadn’t left the gas gage as I drove away from the diner. I should have called my aunt and explained that I wouldn’t be able to make it to see her for the holiday. There was no sense in risking the snow and my lack of funds on the off chance I might make it. But I’d done it before. Plenty of times. I’d gotten there on less. I convinced myself, at least.
I’m an idiot.
But I ached for my small family. They were all I had left, and I wanted Mateo’s first Christmas to be special. Even if he would never remember it, I still wanted him to have something nice like I did once.
Behind me, those little snores grew louder, and I looked over my shoulder, my heart aching at the roundness of his face and wide arch of his mouth. Why did he have to look so much like Alejandro?
The car was warm, but it wouldn’t be for long. Soon, I’d have to find a phone and call my aunt. I’d have to admit defeat and find someone somewhere who would take pity on us. A glance around this pretty, clean town told me instantly there likely weren’t any shelters. No. That wouldn’t be good anyway.
We could wrap up in those blankets together…
Jesus, please don’t let us freeze.
The thought tore apart the small threads of composure I’d been holding on to all night. The steering wheel was hot from the vent, and I gripped it tightly, keeping my forehead away from it as I let my tears fall, cursing Alejandro for being weak and breaking every promise he made to me. We were supposed to live our biggest dreams—dreams we’d invented when we were college freshmen falling in love, determined nothing would break us apart. But something had.
He had.
His weaknesses.
His excesses.
And I got left alone on Christmas Eve.
With our baby…
“Hey.” I heard, the voice loud, deep, the sound like a warning that had me jerking my head up to stare out my foggy window. I could only make out the wide-shouldered shape of a man and hear the rap of his knuckles against the glass when he knocked. “You in there?”
The sudden vision of a thousand dark, twisted scenarios started to play in my head. Suddenly, this picturesque, sweet little town didn’t seem all that wholesome. It was too quiet. Too deserted.
Another tap came, this one heavier, the rap like metal on glass, and I eased my hand to the door, hoping the man couldn’t make out my movements through the foggy glass before I engaged the automatic locks. They, at least, still worked.
“You’re testing my fucking patience. I’m asking one more time, and then I’m breaking the glass…” he said, punctuating his threat with another rap against the window.
I realized what the noise was when I wiped the glass clear, and my eyes widened. “Oh my God, please don’t!” I held up my hands, already surrendering, my prayers silently firing off in quick succession. “Please! I’m…I’m unarmed!”
He leaned forward, his face coming into view, and I wondered how it was possible to be so terrified by someone so damn beautiful. The man had chiseled features, as though he stepped right out of an old black-and-white movie. His cheekbones were high, and his mouth was plump, his eyes squinting and searching over what I supposed was my petrified but curious expression.
“The fuck are you doing out here?”
“I…I’m just…” Mateo chose that exact moment to wake up, seeming to remember with a jolt that his little gums ached. “I’m sorry,” I told the man, my hands still up as I slowly turned. “I…have to get my baby. I’m not doing anything bad. Honest!”
The man watched me as I pulled the baby from his car seat and grabbed him and the quilts, shushing him as I turned back to sit behind the wheel.
“It’s okay, mijo,” I told my son, rocking him as best as I could while some strange man stared at me through the window, holding a gun.
“Why are you out here in the snow with a baby?”
I jerked my gaze to him, feeling a sudden rush of insult at the question, forgetting about the gun. “Is that your business?” I snapped. I was doing my best even though I was sure it didn’t look that way.
He cocked an eyebrow, leaning the hand not holding the gun against my car. “Yeah, right now, it is.”
“I…am almost out of gas, and the snow…” I waved at the clouds, then nodded at the street. He didn’t follow my movements. Instead, the handsome man kept his attention on me and Mateo, his focus intensifying as my son’s body stiffened each time he took a breath to gear up for another cry.
“He hungry?”
“Possibly,” I said, positioning the baby at my breast before I stopped. I couldn’t do this here. With an audience, out in the cold.
“Is there a problem?”
“I’m…fine,” I told him, my fear quickly replaced by worry as Mateo’s face heated and he took to pulling on his ear. He probably wouldn’t nurse anyway. His gums were too sore, and he was in pain. What did Vi say? The frozen rag. “I just…” Glancing at the man, then to the crowd milling inside the restaurant, I decided my desperation outweighed any self-preservation I had. If this man were going to hurt me, he’d have done it by now.
“Can you back up a little?” I asked him, nodding toward the door. He hesitated for a second, but he didn’t put up an argument. He watched me, his curious eyes relaxing when I rolled down the window.
It was a rash decision, but my baby was in pain and I was desperate. I pulled the small burp rag from the diaper bag, making sure it at least was clean, and unfolded it before I grabbed a handful of snow that had collected on the windshield. Then, I placed the snow in the rag and twisted it, making a pouch small enough to fit against Mateo’s aching gums.
Several seconds passed before he took to it. I knew it was only a temporary remedy, but at least he would have some relief. Sure enough, after several long seconds, Mateo stopped fighting the intrusion of the frigid rag in his mouth and sucked on it, his small body relaxing.
“Clever woman,” the man said, his voice even and the threat missing completely.
“Resourceful,” I corrected him and exhaled, drying my son’s wet face with the undampened hem of the rag. “If you give me a minute, I can try to get him back to sleep, and we’ll find somewhere else to park.”
“I can’t do that, sorry,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because I was raised better than that.” He opened my door, reaching in to shut the window before he offered me his hand.
“I don’t need your…”
“Yeah, you do. So does your baby.” When I only stared at his offered hand, the man dropped his shoulders, like he was surprised I didn’t hurry to do as he commanded. But he didn’t lose his smile or let the harsh tone he used earlier return. “It’s Christmas Eve. My parents own the best restaurant in this town, your baby is hungry, and you look like you haven’t had a decent meal in months. And…I’m freezing my balls off standing out here talking to you. So, please, for the sake of the holiday…and my manhood, come inside.”
I’d had worse offers. I’d had better, but he wasn’t wrong. No one had asked me to dinner and certainly not with my kid. Ever. Besides, I couldn’t be responsible for damage to this man’s manhood. That would be a crime against all women everywhere.
“Okay,” I told him, grabbing the bag before I moved myself and Mateo out of the car. “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
“Why not?” I asked, some of that worry returning.
The man smiled, ushering me across the street. “Because you’re about to witness a Carelli Christmas. You might prefer freezing in your car to my crazy family.”
Smoke
A few months back, Mickey Finney made threats, veiled ones, but still t
hreats. The idling car across the street from the restaurant seemed suspicious. So, imagine my shock when it wasn’t one of my enemies less-than-subtle kiss-asses, but a tired-looking woman with her head over the steering wheel and a screaming baby in her back seat.
She was tiny, waist that didn’t give away the fact that she’d squeezed out a kid. Her skin was a smooth light brown, those beautiful Latina features set in a face without a line on it. I was sure she was still young, but the world-weary look in her eyes told me she was no child.
The woman walked ahead of me, her arms around that baby with the massive black eyes, his hands buried in the front of the dingy uniform she wore. Couldn’t blame the kid. She had plenty up top I wouldn’t mind playing with myself.
Shit.
I winced, blinking away the stupid thought at the imagined flash of my father’s glare, accusing me of being a prick for checking out a nursing mother’s rack. Couldn’t be helped. I had a pulse, and this one was pretty.
“You got a man?” I asked her, leading her toward the restaurant, holding up my hand in apology when she shot me a frown. Pretty and a lot of fire. Couldn’t say I hated that. “No offense meant. Just wanted to know if there was someone I should call or have one of my boys pick up,” I said, steering her away from a slick spot of ice near a snow-covered drain. I was a nosy fuck, but I was about to bring her around my people. I had to know who I was dealing with. “I’m just saying, if it were me and I had a woman and a kid stranded in a place they clearly didn’t know, and some asshole comes around bringing them in from the cold, I’d want a heads-up.”
She relaxed, but only enough to ask a question. “You wouldn’t say thank you first?”
“First,” I said, shaking my head, “I’d wanna know his angle.”