by Aiden Frost
Take Me Home for Christmas
Aiden Frost
Published by Aiden Frost, 2018.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
TAKE ME HOME FOR CHRISTMAS
First edition. December 12, 2018.
Copyright © 2018 Aiden Frost.
Written by Aiden Frost.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter-Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Dear Reader,
Chapter One
EVERYTHING CHANGED the night Amanda let Max Avery take her home from the office—not that he wasn't a willing participant, but there was the need for a bit of convincing on her part.
They went back to her place. And Amanda had her way with him. Because she could.
Amanda thought it would end there. One, because he was the boss, and he could not be seen consorting with the likes of her. And second, because it was bad. Really bad.
While Amanda didn't consider herself an expert, she had figured out what she was doing over the years. They were like two naked people trying to read two different books and just hoping things made sense in the end. She could tell you, things did not make sense. If Amanda went fast, he went slow, if Amanda went for his neck, he went for her lips. It was like those experimental college days all over again. Nervous, a wreck.
Guys didn’t make her nervous. Amanda made them nervous. Or at least she used to. Amanda had her sights on Max Avery for a good four months. Now while she usually didn’t work that slow, she needed to work herself up for this one. Bosses were usually on her do not service list. It was Shandra’s fault really. Amanda planned on fully reprimanding her on Monday. Amanda didn’t shy away from the list. It was a steadfast list, it had never led her astray yet. But, give her a challenge, and well, all good sense went out the window. Now she wondered how she was ever going to show her face in front of him again. This mess couldn’t have been her fault. Amanda usually got thank you notes and flowers. Now she’d be lucky to keep her job. Max skedaddled himself out of her place as soon as Amanda jumped into the shower. She could tell you, there was not a thank you note this time.
MONDAY 7:57 AM
Amanda paced the downstairs cafeteria, two cups of coffee in her hands and a thousand excuses on her mind. Maybe she should just go home. Home was safe. Or at least it wasn’t here.
While she wasn’t usually even within sight distance of this building before 8 a.m., today she was wasting time because she was too early. If Amanda showed her face before 8:15, Carter would wonder why. And then he’d ask her. Loudly. He was the office busy body, and her office second best friend. Carter was a 50-something married man, father of four, whose waistline was expanding, and he just didn’t care. He professed to be married to the love of his life and he seemed to enjoy every day of life in general. There was plenty of days Amanda would like to crack him right in his nose for being so cheerful, but she had never found a man more loyal or willing to give another person a hand. But today, she was avoiding him. Carter saw her leave with Max last night—her car was in the shop, she had a viable excuse—but if she came in early, he’d just know.
Shandra blew through the open door like a model entering a runway. The sea of people parted and she strutted up to Amanda like she owned the building and everyone in it. Shandra was a lithe beauty whose chocolate skin was almost too black to be seen. She towered over Amanda at her normal height of six foot-one, but today she wore a pair of heels that looked like they could hold up a small bridge. Amanda tipped her head up high as Shandra reached down to peck her on the cheek. She could have made millions on the catwalk, but Shandra preferred power of a different sort. At only twenty-three, she had her sights set on managing a high rise. Her work here was temporary. She was here to soak up as much experience as she could, and then move on to bigger and better things.
“So, how was he?” she asked as they headed for the elevators.
“I don’t know why I let you talk me in to such things,” Amanda groaned. “I have rules. I always play by the rules.”
“Yeah, the list.” Shandra sipped her coffee, staring straight ahead at the elevator doors. “Was it really that bad?” she asked as the elevator dinged and they spilled out onto the twenty-second floor.
When Amanda didn’t answer, Shandra turned to her. They didn’t really need to look as they walked, people parted in the wake of Shandra just like they always did. “How am I supposed to live vicariously through your sex life if it’s this stagnant? I haven’t had a good, hold ‘em down, knock ‘em out story in weeks.”
“I’ve never knocked anyone out,” Amanda complained.
“What about Tommy what’s-his-name in college?”
“He had seizures, that was not my fault.”
“Sure, give a medicated epileptic a seizure in the middle of sex and it’s not your fault.” They stopped in their progression, for this was where they parted ways. “You held on for dear life, didn’t you?” Shandra stared down at Amanda and she wrinkled my nose at her.
“Get off a life-sized vibrator before I was done? Never.” Amanda winked at her and walked away.
Chapter Two
“NO!” MAX SHOUTED INTO the phone. “That’s unacceptable. I don’t care what your accounts say, check them again. We are not behind on our payments.” He slammed the receiver down and ran his hands through his light brown hair. It was getting too long for the office, but he hadn’t bothered making time to get it cut lately.
The sun beamed through the massive windows, much too cheerful and much too bright for his mood. A firm knock sounded on the door and Shandra sauntered into the room. He knew it was her before he looked up. She was one of the few people in the building who was bold enough to walk into his office without an invitation. He respected her. She was going to have whatever she wanted out of life. And it wasn’t just because she had a set of legs that could stop traffic and a face that should be on the cover of magazines. She took what she wanted, and in Max’s book that was what made a woman great.
He’d thought about her from time to time, she certainly was gorgeous and powerful, two things that made him crazy, but she seemed indifferent. And if Max was good at anything, it was reading the opposite sex.
She approached his desk and slapped a file down on top of it. “Morning, Maxy,” she crooned. “Here’s a big pile of mess to start your day.”
Usually she strutted herself back out his door without a second glance. Today, her eyes lingered on him a moment too long.
Max sighed, picking u
p the folder and flipped through. More ‘unpaid’ notices. “You know about her, don’t you,” he asked, as her hand rested on the door handle.
“Yeah,” she said without turning.
He paused a moment. A moment too long that made Shandra think he wanted to ask her a question. But then he didn’t. “I’d appreciate it if you kept things to yourself.” He waved the folder at her back. “And about this too.”
“Yup,” she said, and continued out the door.
Max tipped himself back in his chair, his feet on his desk. He had absolutely no interest in participating in the day. Last night was...weird. He knew he shouldn’t have driven her home. He kept a firm line between him and his employees. He tended to be too friendly, he knew that. When his father handed him the business, he knew he’d need to push his old friends away. His father had a way about him, everybody loved him. Everybody respected him. And now he couldn’t even get the finance department to pay the bills. But, he was the boss. He had people to take care of these things for him. He snatched the pile of folders off his desk and grabbed his jacket off the coat rack. He took a moment to straighten his tie and button his suit coat, before putting on his jacket. He pushed his hands through his hair before exiting the room.
“Janice,” he said when he approached his assistant’s desk, “see this gets taken care of.” He flopped the pile of folders onto her desk.
Janice opened her mouth to speak, but he was off down the hall before she’d gotten a word out. “Jerk,” she muttered under her breath.
Max moved through the office, a hurried air about him so no one would try to stop him. He snuck a quick glance in Amanda’s direction as he passed her cubicle. She had her back turned to him, busy at her computer. Maybe he expected her to look different after last night, but she didn’t.
Max put his phone to his ear as he stepped out of the elevator. The phone rang through, going to voicemail. He hung up. Searching through his contacts, he rang another number.
“Hey, Max,” came the voice on the other end. The voice was hurried. He could hear the baby in the background. He knew the answer before he asked it.
“Hey, man. You sound busy. I’ll catch up with you another time.” The other line clicked off and Max shoved his phone back into his pocket. He grumbled and pushed through the front doors and into the cold. The sun burst brightly, but the air was brisk. He could either stand out here, trying to figure out who else he could call, or head to somewhere he didn’t want to go.
He slipped into the next taxi that pulled up to the curb. “47 North Eighth Street. Take the Mariner’s Bypass.”
Max pressed his head into his hands, rubbing his fingers into his eyes.
“Rough morning?” came the voice from the front seat.
“Rough night too,” Max mumbled.
“Ah! Girl troubles.”
Max chuckled, his voice rolling through the cab. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have done it.”
The cab driver raised his thick, bushy eyebrows, glancing at Max in the rearview mirror. “You didn’t tell her that, did you?”
Max winced. “I kind of left when she went to use the bathroom.”
“That’s not good, son.”
They road in silence as the cab entered the Bypass and weaved in and out of traffic. You’d think at 9 a.m., everybody would be at work, but the traffic was as thick as always. Max leaned back against the seat, wondering why he was going here. He had half a mind to tell the driver he’d changed his mind.
The cab swerved, cutting across two lanes to take the Eighth Street exit.
“Turn!” yelled Max and the cab driver made a hard, left turn onto North Eighth Street.
The driver hit the brakes when he came to the mailbox which read ’47’ and ‘Avery’.
Max got out of the cab, a bit more alert after the exhilarating ride. He handed cash to the driver, smiling at the older gentleman.
“You best make things right,” he called as Max turned to leave. “Christmas time is about love, not being lonely.”
Max nodded without turning, before walking up the drive to the house. He waited until he heard the cab pull away from the curb before he rang the doorbell. He blew warm air into his hands before the door was swung open wide.
“Max!” squealed the buxom blonde in the doorway. She threw her arms around him, squeezing him tight. “Andrew!” she hollered back over her shoulder. “Max is here!” She pulled him in the door, slinging her arm through his.
Max pulled the door shut and unwound her from his arm. Her mood deflated but she plastered another smile on her face. “Your dad will be so happy to see you.”
“Thanks, Ana,” he said as she wandered off down the hall.
Max found his dad in his office, his shirt collar open and his phone dangling loose in his hand. Although he’d retired from in-office duties a year ago, he still dressed up when he managed things from home. His father still owned the company and kept a tight grasp on things.
His father smiled, waving him to the seat across from the desk, finishing up his call before addressing him.
“Max,” his father said, leaning forward in his chair, his thick forearms holding up his large frame. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”
“We...” said Max to himself.
“I am a ‘we’, son. Someday you need to accept that.”
Max pulled the folder out from inside his coat and tossed it onto his father’s arms. “What’s this, Dad?”
Andrew Avery flipped open the folder, then just as quickly, flipped it closed. He sighed, setting his weight back in his chair. “Where’d you get this?”
Max sat up, alert. “You knew about this?”
“It’s my company, Max. I know everything.”
Max eyed the man before him. His father was like a vision of who Max would be in the future. He held the same blue eyes, the same sandy hair. While Max currently had the physique of a toned athlete beneath his tailored suit, his father once had too. Until he married Ana, he thought, grudgingly. Although one thing Max knew he’d never had in common with his father was his shrewd business sense. While things seemed innate to his father, Max struggled to follow in his father’s footsteps.
“Give me more time.”
“Son,” his father said, shaking his head, “you’ve had a year. The business is hemorrhaging money. I spoke with one of the girls in the office—”
“Amanda!” Max interjected. “She’s who you have keeping an eye on me?” Max moved to his feet, pacing the office. “She’s been some sort of spy these last few months? You figure send in a pretty lady and I’ll lose all sense? I’ll start sharing what, my feelings? Insecurities?” Max stormed around the office, furious.
“Son! Sit!”
Max moved to the chair but didn’t sit. He grabbed the back of the chair in a death grip, his forearm’s straining with the effort.
“I have a decision to make,” Andrew Avery said. “This decision has nothing to do about you as my son, and everything to do with the fact that the business can’t be brought back. We tried—”
“So that’s it then? You’re firing your own son?”
“I’m not fire—”
“Tell me what to do, Dad. Tell me what needs to be done to fix this!”
Andrew shook his head. “It’s too far. You’d need to bring in more money in the next six months than you’ve brought in in the last year. And then double that money for the six months after that.” His father looked sad. “And there’s nothing left to put out. There is no one else who will give us product on goodwill.”
“What about you, Dad? You could invest in the business.”
“Every last one of my assets are already tied up in the business. I’ve been holding this off for a long time. The house is in Ana’s name, some savings, but...” Andrew held up his palms, indicating he was empty.
“No. No,” he said. “I won’t accept it.” Max stormed out of the room. His father was silent as he watched him go.
After Andrew hear
d the front door slam shut, Ana entered his office. She moved to him, wrapping her slight arms around his neck, leaning her cheek on his face. He reached up, pressing her head to his. “He’ll be okay,” she said. Andrew Avery remained silent.
Chapter Three
SHANDRA STOOD IN LINE next to Amanda. Her gaze was distant.
“The usual?” Amanda asked her. Shandra nodded, still distracted.
Amanda collected the boiled eggs and raw vegetable cup from across the counter. Amanda took Shandra by the elbow, leading her away from the center of the tables.
“Where’s your head today?” Amanda asked as she spread their fare out on the table.
Shandra’s eyes met hers, finally focusing. “There’s something going on with Max.”
“Uh uhn,” said Amanda, shaking her head. “I didn’t do anything to him. Well, I mean I did things to him but nothing...well, good. Or...I didn’t break him if that’s what you’re getting at.”
Shandra’s lip curled, revealing her bright white teeth. “I wasn’t suggesting you broke him. But there’s something very off about him today.”
Amanda passed her a container of greens, and after shaking half of the vegetables out on her salad, she shook the rest onto Shandra’s.
“Thank you for always doing this,” Shandra said, indicating the bowl of fresh greens.
“Yeah,” said Amanda, smiling. “I enjoy it.”
“Must be harder this time of year though. I hear we might actually get some snow for Christmas.”
Amanda chewed, thoughtful, before answering. “It’s almost more fun this time of year. In the spring it’s easy. I toss the seeds in the dirt and they grow. This time of year, it takes a lot more...finesse.”
“Well, I love your finessed salads either way. Have you thought more about what I said, about supplying your greens here, at the kitchen?”
Amanda shook her head. “It’s fun growing the salads for us, for the few people in the office. I’m happy with that.” And she also really didn’t think Mrs Carmichael would be very fond of her digging up her precious lawn. Amanda lived in a mother-in-law suite on the back property of a very affluent woman. Her garden was currently a small raised bed next to the house. She didn’t want to tell Shandra that she thought about it all the time—thought about how she could turn something she loved into a source of income. Shandra wanted big things out of life. Amanda could imagine the look on her face if she told her she’d love to have a piece of property to garden full-time.