The Holly Hearth Romantic Comedy Collection

by K B Cinder

  “He did you a favor,” Nick ground out, winging his messenger bag over his shoulder in irritation. “You could’ve played ball a little.”

  As the elevator doors opened and I stepped inside, I held out a hand to block his entry.

  “We’re done here, right? I don’t play ball, Nick. In case you missed it, Brandon did me a favor, not that creep. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have shit to do.”

  2

  Once my tush hit the driver’s seat of my Civic, I turned on my cell, curious to see if Brandon reached out.

  There had to be an ulterior motive to him letting me off the hook. Hopefully he didn’t think I’d take him back. Our relationship was as cancelled as a fall drama after a shitty pilot episode.

  While the phone powered through an update, I studied the outside world, grateful to be free of the gloomy building I’d just escaped. Its gray interior was nothing like the rest of downtown. Honey Hills was alive with the season. The lamp posts lining the main drag were decorated with corn stalks, a cheerful scarecrow dotting every other one. All things I would have missed in the slammer.

  A flood of texts sounded as the welcome screen loaded, demanding my passcode before delivering the goods. It was odd to have so many. I’d only been inside for an hour tops, half of which was spent waiting on Nick.

  My heart sunk.

  It was that time of year.

  The holidays always delivered a steaming dump of disappointment.

  What now?

  Bad things always came in threes. I’d already been cheated on and fired so far that week. Fate might as well finish what it started before revving up for the new year.

  The doom and gloom of the season always settled in as December rolled around. Only now, it arrived early to catch me off-guard. Maybe that meant I’d have a decent Christmas for once. The previous one was spent in the emergency room with a broken arm, and the one before that in bed with the flu.

  At least those were only physical pains. The emotional kind was worse.

  I held my breath before opening my text messages, letting it out instantly when I realized it was just Karine, my best friend, roommate, and forever pain in the ass.

  Karine: Are you ever going to get here??? Sage is being a cockasaurus rex.

  Karine: Seriously, I’m going to cut him.

  Karine: Did you hear me? I. will. cut. him.

  Karine: OMG how are you two related?

  Karine: Where are you? I know you’re not in jail. I already called to check.

  Karine: If you want nieces and nephews someday, you’ll hurry the hell up. Otherwise, I’m neutering him with your mom’s chef knife.

  I giggled at her threats. She had to be climbing the walls of my childhood home without me there. It was the night of our parents’ pre-Thanksgiving dinner, the Mullens, Nuneses, and Banes thick as thieves for years, so much so that us grown kids still attended the annual gathering in the cul-de-sac.

  Don’t touch his balls, please. I know you want to grope them, but let them be.

  I knew she’d flip a lid as soon as she read the message, and sure enough, the angry dots danced across my screen a second later as she typed a fiery response.

  She and my older brother, Sage, had been at each other’s throats for as long as I could remember. It would be a miracle if she didn’t punch him in his mouth before I got there, a mouth that was somehow even louder and raunchier than mine.

  Karine was still typing when another text cut in, this time from her nemesis, followed immediately by my mother.

  Sage: What time are you getting here? Karine the Weenie is being annoying AF.

  Mom: Are you on your way yet? I need a buffer between Sage and Karine before I put them outside.

  Oh God.

  I could only imagine how they were acting if Mom was complaining. Usually, her flash bang in the form of fresh, homemade cookies did the trick. Especially snickerdoodles.

  On my way now, ya crazies

  I shot the message off as a group text to the three before pulling out of my spot.

  When I reached the stop sign at the mouth of the parking lot, I slowed to a stop beside Nick and his Beemer, him making a left, while I was headed right. The front end of his vehicle stuck out into the road, blocking my view.

  I inched out, but it was pointless. My car was no match.

  Nick was oblivious, the same vacant stare on his face as upstairs in Stank Breath’s office, even after I honked the horn. Twice.

  I should have gone into the meeting alone. All Nick managed to do was piss me off rather than defend me, arriving late and mixing my file with another, calling me Jessica at least six times.

  I didn’t know who the hell Jessica was, but her and her possession charge were definitely none of my business.

  I honked again, but he still didn’t budge or look over, so I kept rolling forward, tempting Fate one inch at a time.

  Screw it. Might as well try my hand at bringing on the third crappy event myself. A fender bender would likely be better than whatever the universe had in mind.

  But no impact came, and I sped off into the night, leaving Nick and my problems in the rearview mirror.

  Ten minutes later, I pulled into Holly Hearth, the cul-de-sac of modest bi-levels where I’d grown up. It was silly that a ride across town could take so long, but New Jersey had a thing against left turns, so a jug handle turn a mile out of the way was needed to enter the neighborhood.

  The Nuneses already had Christmas lights strung on their house, Karine’s mother Adriana obsessed with all things Santa. She had her usual ten-foot inflatables up, too, the Grinch and Rudolph trading looks across the yard from one another.

  Meanwhile, autumn had vomited all over my parents’ place, hay bales and pumpkins everywhere you looked, and across the way, the Bane’s home was muted, no decorations of any sort on display. They were forever last-minute, the matriarch, Marie, too lost in her soaps to tune into the outside world.

  The road was already lined with cars, my late arrival costing me an enviable parking spot. There was Sage’s Jeep with Karine’s white, soft-top convertible close behind, her little sisters’ sedans parked in the rear. Dash had yet to arrive, Sage’s best friend driving a behemoth of a truck that could be heard a mile away.

  I peeked in my drop-down mirror after I parked, my green eyes still lined with my go-to wing, the only style I rocked since perfecting not poking my eyes out in college. My red lip remained on point, lip stain swooping in to save the day. But my side braid was a hot mess. I didn’t have time to save it, either, so I just rolled with it.

  If I took too long, Mom might actually throw Karine and Sage out by the scruff of their necks. She used to stick Sage and I in the backyard when we would bicker as kids - rain or shine. Nothing forced us to make up faster than the elements. Ever try to stay mad in a snowstorm? Pretty hard with chattering teeth.

  The night air was crisp on my cheeks as I strolled up the winding walkway through Mom’s fall menagerie, dodging pumpkins, pilgrims, and cornucopias before reaching the pinnacle at the porch.

  I could hear the laughter inside as I opened the screen door, a twist of the front entry’s handle revealing the rowdy room of people.

  “Juniper!” Karine’s mother, Adriana, squealed from her spot on the sofa, launching her five-foot frame up to greet me. She pulled me close, her height making it an awkward game of try-not-to-smother-my-friend’s-mom-with-my-boobs.

  “Hi, Mama Nunes,” I greeted as my eyes did a quick scan of the packed living room.

  Her husband, Doug, was slowly climbing to his feet, while the Bane parents were seated on the opposite loveseat hand-in-hand.

  Karine was cross-legged on the floor by the fireplace with her long, black hair flowing, Sage scowling a few feet away.

  My parents and the younger Nunes girls were nowhere to be found, likely buzzing around in the kitchen. Fitting, since both girls were eyeing culinary careers and Mom’s thirty years as a chef made her a hell of a mentor.

&nb
sp; “About time you got here,” Sage grumbled, the muscled giant leaning against the doorjamb leading to the kitchen. “I debated leaving at least a hundred times.”

  “A damn shame you didn’t,” Karine snarled as she stroked Pierogi, my parents’ Shih Tzu.

  “Karine! Pare com isso!” Adriana scolded, pointing an angry finger at her eldest daughter, her stern expression a sharp contrast from her delicate floral dress.

  Stop this now.

  I’d heard the Portuguese line repeatedly as we grew up, Karine every bit the mega mouth I was despite being two years younger and a whole lot shorter. In some ways, she was more of a hothead than I was, and that was saying a lot.

  “Just waiting on Dashiell now,” Doug noted, giving me a stiff hug.

  “How are you?” I asked as I gently leaned in, Papa Nunes on the mend from back surgery.

  “Old as usual,” he laughed, pushing his thick-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. “The doctor has me going to physical therapy three times a week. By the end of it, maybe I’ll be as buff as Sage.”

  “He is built like a barge, huh?” I laughed as I gestured at Sage’s pullover fleece, the material snug across his barrel-like chest and arms. He used it to his advantage, too, opening a gym that crushed the competition. I’d been there a few times but couldn’t stomach hearing women ogle over my big brother. Gross.

  He had recently rejoined the single scene, too, the two of us crushing our parents’ hopes of us settling down anytime soon. If Pierogi still had his potatoes, they’d probably be pimping him out for grandpuppies already.

  I turned my attention to the Banes, giving Ned and Marie a quick squeeze each. I wasn’t as close with them as Sage was, their son Dash his best friend since the dawn of time.

  I hadn’t seen him in forever, the lone Bane child working his way up the ranks at the fire department while I was busy herding kindergarteners with goldfish crackers.

  “Nice to see you guys.” I meant it too. It’d been a long time since we’d talked, Marie always tucked inside and Ned forever at work.

  Marie was chic as always, her ice blonde hair secured in its typical neat chignon, her dress reminiscent of all things Hepburn. She offered a slight nod, a woman of few words. Her French accent was as thick as molasses and made her incredibly self-conscious.

  Ned, on the other hand, was her polar opposite, a boisterous mechanic with a love of red wine, fully earning the nickname of Wine Head Ned. If he wasn’t cracking a joke or a bottle, he was working on cars, his repair shop one of the best in Honey Hills.

  “Visit more, angel,” he pushed as he nursed from his goblet. “We’re getting old!”

  “I’m here all the time!” I protested with a smile.

  Maybe not every day, but I did drop in to see my parents often. My mom’s cooking may or may not have had something to do with it.

  As I stepped back, a pinch on my butt cheek made me yelp. I looked down to see Karine with her eyes like slits. “You left me here alone, Juni. Not cool.”

  “Sorry, I was kinda sorta attempting to stay out of jail,” I growled in a low voice, quiet enough that no one other than her could hear.

  Or so I thought.

  “What’s the verdict? Are they tossing you in the slammer, or what?” Sage’s green eyes taunted me as he spoke, and suddenly I found myself wanting to whack him upside the head with one of the fire pokers next to Karine.

  I was hoping the incident stayed private, especially with me needing to find another teaching job, pronto. Stories of dong drawings wouldn’t get me very far.

  “You wish,” I shot back. “Brandon didn’t press charges. I did agree to help with a charity event, though. I need to prove I’m not a complete degenerate, I guess.”

  “Sage said you scraped a penis into someone’s hood,” Ned chuckled, and again, I debated smacking my brother with something hard and pointy. “Balls and all.”

  “I did,” I admitted, for the second time that day. Since it was out there, I might as well own it, right?

  Sage stood grinning just out of reach while Karine and I fumed, united in mutual annoyance.

  It was short-lived, however, the loud rumbling of an engine outside pulling all eyes to the door.

  Dash had arrived.

  3

  The moment the door opened and a booted foot touched the hardwood, the room erupted with joy.

  The seldom seen son of Holly Hearth was home, and my penis carving conundrum was neatly swept under the rug again where it belonged.

  The Banes stood to greet their only child, while the Nuneses waited their turn. Sage nodded a greeting to his friend, and Karine remained silent on the floor with Pierogi, still stewing in whatever annoyance my brother was pouring on prior to my arrival.

  But me? I was pretty sure my ovaries exploded as soon as my brother’s best friend strolled in looking like a damn calendar model. His lips curved in a permanent half-smile as he greeted everyone, delicious end-of-day stubble tapering up his jaw to meet short, dark hair, his hazel eyes dreamy even across the room.

  And that body? Help me.

  Tall and lean with a subtle strength rather than Sage’s bearlike build, he was cut from the loincloth of lust. Despite the cold, he wore no coat, a blue fire department t-shirt caressing every sinewy bulge of muscle, while his jeans followed suit below, though the bulge they hugged promised way more fun.

  When did he get so damn sexy?

  Holy shit. What was wrong with me?

  I shook my head as if it would shake the thought away.

  It was Dash for crying out loud. The same guy that rode bikes with Sage and I growing up. The boy who went through a goofy goth stage complete with platform boots and chains.

  He couldn’t be sexy. The universe said so.

  But when those hazel eyes met mine and he offered a friendly hug moments later, I wanted to drag him upstairs and have my way with him in my childhood bedroom.

  Nothing but warm, hard man surrounded me, his arms like steel as he pulled me in. I awkwardly wrapped my arms around him in response, suddenly forgetting how the dangly appendages worked. Everywhere I touched was hard and hot.

  One Mississippi.

  Two Mississippi.

  Three Mississippi.

  How long was a hug supposed to last?

  The clearing of Sage’s throat signaled it had been long enough, a hard, green-eyed glare shot at both of us as we separated.

  “Sorry, I spaced out there for a second,” I muttered, attempting to save face. “Long week.”

  “So I heard,” Dash teased, firing off a wink that could melt enough panties to line the equator. Twice. “Sage told me you’ve taken up customizing car hoods.”

  “Seems like Sage’s mouth is even bigger than his block of a head,” I scoffed, turning to my brother as he snickered. “I do need to find another job, you know. So shutting your trap would really help me out, jackass.”

  Sage didn’t reply, seeming more than satisfied with himself as he shook with silent laughter.

  Dash gave Karine a quick noogie of a greeting, but his eyes stayed fixed on me. “You could focus on art, Juni. Phallic pieces are in.”

  “You’d know a lot about that, I’m sure,” I shot back, mentally kicking myself for mentioning the car incident to Sage at all. I didn’t realize he’d flap his gums to half of Honey Hills in less than a damn week.

  “Of course,” Dash breathed, his eyes dancing with humor. “My condo is a shrine to the cock.”

  “You live in a condo?” The six-foot hunk living in a tidy cubby hole of a place was the last thing I expected. Men like him lived in bachelor pads that were a step above a cave. Not condos.

  He nodded, taking a step back as Sage fired missiles at the two of us with his eyes. “Just bought it last year. One of the ones over by the mall.”

  I knew the complex well, as I’d toured a unit before buying my bungalow that summer. They were top of the line and spacious, and also way above my measly price range. Even with Karine as a r
oommate.

  “You’ve been putting it to good use too,” Sage interjected, taking a step forward to stand between us. “You’ve got a new girl in there every night, huh?”

  I knew what my brother was up to, and it was woefully unnecessary. I could look at Dash all I wanted, but I didn’t plan on touching.

  That was no territory. Plain and simple.

  Your brother’s best friend was as off limits as white shoes after Labor Day or making birthing noises while lifting weights at the gym. It was just something you didn’t do. Well, someone you didn’t do.

  Dash’s eyes widened as he flicked his head toward his parents hovering across the living room, lost in conversation with the Nuneses. “Are you kidding me, Sage?”

  That seemed to bring my brother back to Earth as a smile cut through the clouds of anger. “You know I’m just playing, man.”

  There was no way he wasn’t, though.

  Dash was delicious with a capital D, and I hated every second that I noticed. His place had to be a revolving door of babes. He’d never been one to settle down, not even stringing a girl along for a few weeks like Sage.

  “Good.” Dash embraced his mother’s ways by keeping his response short, but his tone issued a stern warning along with his clenched jaw.

  “Well, as much as I’d love to stand here for this squabble, I’m going to check on Mom.” I made a break for the kitchen, leaving the flock of flying monkeys in my belly over Dash in the dust.

  Oh, and Karine, too, who squawked as she scrambled to her feet to catch up with a prancing Pierogi at her heels.

  Mom was standing at the island with her hand up the business end of a chicken, while Soraya and Talita looked on in horror and Pop cackled, my stepfather thoroughly enjoying the Nunes girls’ misery. Back to back turkey was too much, so chicken was the chosen protein of our feast that year. Last year, Adriana made Feijoada, a Brazilian stew I was still daydreaming about.

  “I thought I heard my favorite little artist,” Mom teased, tearing her eyes away from the bird’s backdoor long enough to shoot a wink my way before turning her attention back to scooping out stuffing. “What’s the punishment, Junebug? Twenty-five to life?”