A Wright Christmas

by Linde, K. A.

  “I missed you, too, sweetheart.” I kissed the top of her head. “Now, go back to sleep. I’ll be here in the morning. Maybe we can have waffles before I go to work.”

  “Promise?” she breathed.

  “Promise.”

  I kissed her again and then snuck out of the room, carefully closing the door behind me.

  Annie grimaced when she saw me. “Sorry again.”

  I shrugged and went into the kitchen for another beer. “It’s fine. She wasn’t really awake. If she had been, she would have fought me to sleep in my bed, but she went right back to sleep.”

  “Well, that’s good at least.” Annie got to her feet and stretched. “I’m glad you had a good night, and I’m glad it’s Peyton. I’ve always loved her. So do Mom and Dad.”

  “Yeah,” I said, remembering the first time I’d brought Peyton home. She’d cast a spell on my whole family. A spell that she had cast on me, too. “When I’m with her, it feels like the entire world stops.”

  “I love that,” she said, giving me a hug and heading out.

  I stayed up later than I should have, knowing Aly would be up at the crack of dawn, requesting waffles. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the date. I’d never been able to get Peyton out of my system. And tonight, I could still feel her working through me. I couldn’t wait until I could see her again. Especially for a night when I didn’t have to rush home.

  Fuck, those thoughts wouldn’t leave me alone either. I carried them with me into the shower as my hand remembered all the ways I’d intimately known her body. And I fell back into bed, sated but not satisfied, wanting Peyton even more than before.

  13

  Peyton

  “Yes, Bebe! That was excellent,” I said in rehearsal. “Grab some water, and then we’ll run through the whole thing one more time.”

  The Nutcracker had gone off without a hitch the weekend after my date with Isaac. After our opening-weekend success, the seats in the new Buddy Holly Hall were completely sold out. People were driving in from all over Texas to come see our production.

  And in true Peyton fashion, I was trying to up the ante for the next round of performances this weekend. Which meant a lot of time in the studio and pushing all of the dancers to try to reach their potential.

  Katelyn hurried back out into the studio space first. “Don’t you think the understudies should go through it once, too?”

  “You and Jake have been practicing it behind the leads the entire time.”

  “But it’s not the same.”

  “If you want more time to do it, then you can stay after class to practice.”

  Katelyn pursed her lips. “That’s not fair. I can do those moves just as good as Bebe.”

  The class gasped softly and then went deathly silent. Katelyn hadn’t been subtle about her dislike that someone else was taking the spotlight from her. I suspected it had something to do with her feeling like she was owed her spot in the show. But I would brook no disrespect in my studio space.

  “You might or might not be able to dance the pas de deux as well as Bebe. However, you were not cast as Clara. So, the statement is not only irrelevant,” I said, standing statuesque and staring at Katelyn with all the strength my own instructors had instilled in me all these years, “but also rude and disrespectful.”

  “I wasn’t being rude. I was just telling the truth.”

  “I don’t care for your truth. Life isn’t fair, Katelyn. If you don’t like it, then you can get out of my classroom,” I said, gesturing to the door.

  Katelyn huffed and then stormed from the room.

  Good riddance.

  She’d cool off, and then maybe we’d actually get something done without her crowding Bebe all the time. The rest of the students gaped after Katelyn’s sudden departure.

  I clapped my hands to draw their attention. “Again, from the top.”

  * * *

  By the time rehearsal was over, I felt beat. Katelyn hadn’t returned, and her shiny white BMW was already gone from the parking lot. If she wanted someone to hold her hand and pet her hair, then she’d just be disappointed because I was the wrong person for that. Kathy sure knew I wasn’t a hand-holder. Not for the first or the last time, I wondered if she had chosen correctly.

  I headed home in my dad’s company car and showered off the rehearsal. Then, I changed into something more comfortable and headed over to my abuelita’s home. She had been living in the same one-story house since the ’70s when she had immigrated to America with my mom. It wasn’t much, but children and grandchildren had been raised there and the house was completely full of love.

  She had a garden out back, full of herbs and spices that she grew herself. She’d always told us, growing up, that we preserved our heritage in our food. Then, she’d pinch my cheek and say, “In our dancing, too.”

  Abuelita Nina had always been a strong advocate for me pursuing dance even if it wasn’t the Mexican dances she had taught me as a girl.

  “What is that smell?” I groaned as I entered the house.

  Piper stuck her head out of the kitchen. “Only my favorite food in the world.”

  “Pozole,” I said, just shy of drooling at the thought.

  “There she is,” my abuelita said, leaving the kitchen to give me a hug. “You finally made time for me.”

  “Lo siento.” I pulled back to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Dance keeps me busy.”

  “You find more time for me, mi amorcita.” Abuelita patted my hand. “Come and eat. The pozole is ready.”

  “All the fruits and none of the labor,” Peter muttered.

  I laughed and took a seat at the small wooden table, which had been there since my childhood and showed it all through dents and scratches along the top. My mom doled out bowls of the traditional Mexican fare. It was the same recipe that my grandmother had brought straight from Mexico and that her mother and her mother before her had been making back home. We ate the meal in near silence as we all devoured the succulent pork shoulder mixed with white hominy, decadent spices, and piping hot chilis.

  My mouth watered, as I drained the entire bowl. “Back in New York, there are some pretty amazing traditional Mexican restaurants,” I told the table. “But none hold a candle to this.”

  “Come home, and I will make it for you all the time,” Abuelita assured me.

  “As much as I’d like to stuff myself until I can’t walk tomorrow,” Piper said, “we have to go look for a date dress for Peyton.”

  I buried my face in my bowl.

  “Are you going on another date with Isaac?” my mom asked.

  “Why isn’t he over here for my pozole?” Abuelita asked, busying herself with cleaning up the dishes. “He loves my cooking. Good boy always ate two helpings.”

  I looked up from my bowl with a sigh. “We are going to the Wright Christmas party. It’s not a big deal.”

  “It’s a big deal,” Peter said with a laugh.

  Piper shot him a look, and they hit knuckles. “It so is.”

  “This is why I don’t tell you anything.”

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” my mom said. “We’re all happy for you. We want to see you settled down and married.”

  “With some babies,” Nina added. “I need some great-grandbabies, you know?”

  I shook my head in dismay. “Not this again.”

  “I guess that’s our cue,” Piper said, coming to her feet.

  “Thank you for the dinner,” I said, kissing my grandma as I passed and then my mom. “I will see you all after the show Friday, right?”

  “We wouldn’t miss it,” my mom said with a wink. “Have fun.”

  I ignored her singsong tone and followed Piper out to the cars. We decided to leave the one I was borrowing from dad and take Piper’s Jeep to her favorite boutique, Chrome.

  We were greeted by an overexcited twenty-something with incredible style. “Hi, welcome to Chrome. Are you shopping for anything special today?”

  “No, thanks
. We’re just browsing,” I said automatically.

  Piper rolled her eyes and grabbed my arm. “Actually, my sister is going on a date and needs a killer dress.”

  “Pipes,” I muttered.

  “Oh, that sounds fun. Where are you going?”

  “The Wright Christmas party,” Piper informed her.

  “So, something cocktail. Not too sexy, but not too formal.”

  “It’s really…I’m fine,” I told them both.

  “No worries. I’m Veronica. You go ahead and browse. I’m going to look for a few pieces on my own, and then we can consult in the dressing room.”

  I nodded gratefully to Veronica and began to wander the boutique. Piper followed behind me, adding things to my already-weighed-down arms.

  “So, you and Isaac?” Piper asked, holding up a slinky red dress.

  “What about us?”

  “What’s it like, doing this all over again?”

  “I don’t know,” I said truthfully. But Piper looked honestly curious, so I continued, “It feels right. Not like it was in high school, but like it is meant to be now. It sounds so strange. I’ve dated other people. He was obviously married. This isn’t like first love. It’s different.”

  “Well, that was eloquent,” Piper said.

  I chuckled and snatched a miniskirt out of her hand, replacing it on the rack. “I wish I could describe it. When we were young and stupid, all I wanted was to marry Isaac Donoghue and live happily ever after. I gave that up for ballet.”

  “And now…what?” Piper asked.

  I shook my head. “It feels like I’m reliving that fantasy. We’re just taking this one day at a time.”

  “Far as I can tell, Pey, you and Isaac don’t take anything one day at a time. There is an on switch and an off switch. That’s it.”

  There was no way to refute that. It was true and always had been.

  “I keep thinking that we’re rushing into this, but when I try to stop it, I just can’t.”

  Piper threw her arm around me as we headed back for the dressing room. “Well then, let’s find the best outfit for the party. He’s not going to be able to keep his hands off of you.”

  That was what I was hoping for.

  14

  Peyton

  We found the dress.

  Actually, Veronica found the dress.

  It was something that I never would have tried on in a million years. A magenta silk that flowed to my ankles with a slit up one side and a plunging yet tasteful neckline. There was a tie at the back to hold up the straps since it plunged in the back, too. It hugged the figure I’d carefully cultivated in ballet, but it didn’t make me look like I had no figure at all, which was the hardest part about shopping.

  It was also more than I would have spent, but I’d decided to splurge and get the sparkly heels with ankle straps to go with it. Why not?

  Blaire worked some magic with my curls, and I had no idea how it was possible. Half of me felt compelled to carry her around in my pocket at all times. I didn’t really understand how a girl like her could do hair like this. She wore a baseball cap ninety-nine percent of the time and was always in an oversize T-shirt and leggings. No one would guess how fit she was under all those clothes either.

  After borrowing a pair of Piper’s dangly earrings, I was out the door. Isaac had wanted to come pick me up, but since his mom volunteered with United Way on Thursdays, and she was watching Aly, he wouldn’t have been able to come get me on time. We would have been late to the party. So I’d just offered to meet him at his house.

  When I pulled up to the sidewalk, his mom had just parked in the driveway.

  “I’m here. I’m here,” she said, hustling up to the front door. “I’m sorry. I got here as soon as I could.”

  “Grandma!” Aly cried and ran down the front steps.

  “It’s fine, Mom,” Isaac said. “We’re just glad you’re here.”

  “I’m happy to see this little peanut,” she said, pulling Aly into a hug. “Did you have dinner already?”

  “Nope. I was thinking mac and cheese.”

  “Were you?” His mom looked up at Isaac, and they both laughed. Apparently, that must have been a common occurrence.

  I’d been hovering with the car door open, trying not to butt into their conversation, but with a deep breath, I stepped out of the car. I reached for my jacket, feeling the chill seep into my skin. “Hello, Mrs. Donoghue.”

  “Miss Peyton!” Aly cried. “You look beautiful.”

  I laughed as I pulled my coat on. “Thank you, Aly.”

  “Hello, Peyton dear. Please just call me Marie.” She pulled me into a hug. “And you do look beautiful.”

  “Thank you. And thank you for watching Aly.”

  “We’re going to have so much fun,” Aly said. “I have a gingerbread house we can make, Grandma.”

  “Do you? Well, why don’t we go inside and put that together after we get some dinner in you? How does that sound?”

  “Yes!”

  “Give your dad a hug and kiss good-bye.”

  Aly darted back over to Isaac, who, up until that point, hadn’t said a word. He was just staring at me in awe. I flushed at that look, which was both mesmerizing and filled with desire. But when Aly reached him, he broke his stare and lifted her into his arms, planting a kiss on both cheeks.

  “Be a good girl for Grandma.”

  “Okay. I love you, Daddy.”

  He squeezed her one more time and then set her down. His mom kissed him on the cheek. “Have a good night,” she said before taking Aly’s hand and heading inside.

  “You look stunning, Peyton. That dress…” He shook his head.

  “Thanks. Piper helped me find something. I really didn’t bring anything but dance clothes with me.”

  He took my hand and brought it to his lips. “It’s perfect.”

  I flushed all over at the way he’d said it. The sultry quality to his voice and the heat layered through every syllable. It didn’t hurt that he looked really fucking good. I’d seen him in a suit before, of course, after he got off work, but it had nothing on this one. It had clearly been tailored, and the sharp black material fit his broad shoulders and cut in sharply to his waist. I wanted to tug on his dark blue tie and pull him into me. The feeling was so intense that I actually took a step backward.

  “The party,” I managed to get out. As if saying it out loud might make it seem like something I was actually interested in…rather than finding a quiet place alone for the evening.

  He chuckled softly and then walked around the truck to open the door for me. I thanked him and then settled into the passenger seat. The drive to the party was thankfully short. Truly, you could get anywhere in Lubbock in under twenty minutes, but the space was filled with lingering tension. I hadn’t forgotten that kiss after our date…or how eagerly I’d invited him inside. We’d both known what that meant…what we wanted. And that heat hadn’t cooled.

  The Wright Construction Christmas party was being held at the Overton, a large hotel downtown, across from the Texas Tech campus. Apparently, it was usually held on the top floor of the Wright building, in their private restaurant, but some people had—correctly—requested someplace other than work for their big holiday event. The Wrights had complied.

  We checked our coats at the door and then headed into the massive ballroom, decorated for the Christmas season in a collage of red, gold, and silver. Circular tables filled the perimeter of the room with gold-rimmed plates, festive red napkins, and extravagant floral centerpieces. Waiters in tuxedos walked the room, holding trays of bubbling champagne flutes. There were three open bars, which already had lines, and a stage at the back of the room with a band playing holiday hits. The room had three sets of doors, which opened onto a long marble balcony with an elaborately carved balustrade and outdoor heaters. Everything looked magical and flush with opulence.

  Isaac stopped a passing waiter and grabbed us drinks. We drank a lot of champagne at ballet functions b
ack in the city. It had taken me forever to get used to the taste, but now, I enjoyed it.

  “I can’t believe this,” I said to Isaac with wide eyes. “They must have spent a fortune on this party.”

  “It’s their biggest party every year. They host a number of charity events, but this is when they give back to the employees. Christmas bonuses went out today and then the party. Jensen always went overboard, but now that Morgan is the CEO, she’s practically doubled the budget for it.”

  “Morgan, Morgan?” I asked in surprise. “Wasn’t she a few grades younger than us?”

  “Yeah. Two years, but she’s really taken the mantle and owned it. No one wanted Jensen to step down, but Morgan is more than competent.”

  “Wow,” I whispered.

  CEO before she turned thirty. What an accomplishment.

  “Come on. Let me introduce you to Jordan,” he said, putting his arm around my waist. “He’s the Wrights’ cousin. He moved here from Vancouver, where he had been running the Canadian branch of Wright Construction. The minute he stepped in, he immediately took over the performing arts center. project At first, we were worried that he’d be pretentious, like he was entitled to the spot, but he might be the hardest-working person in the building. Well, since Jensen left at least.”

  “That’s good. You don’t want someone to come in who is lazy. We’ve had a few dancers come into the corps, but then they never go anywhere because they think they deserve their spots. It sucks.”

  “Yeah. Just like that. But I think you’ll like Jordan. He’s kind of a hard-ass, but he gets shit done, so I don’t care.”

  “Jordan,” Isaac said, firmly shaking his hand.

  “Hey, Isaac. Good to see you, man.”

  “You too. This is my date, Peyton Medina.”

  I shook his hand, and he was no less aggressive with me. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  “The pleasure is all mine,” he said with the signature Wright smile.

  I’d gone to school with Landon Wright. I knew exactly what that smile was like. Even if I’d never had any interest in any of the Wrights, that didn’t mean they weren’t all fabulously attractive and charismatic. Jordan was no different with his short, dark European-styled hair and scorching brown eyes. His suit was a deep navy blue, and he wore it like he belonged in it.