A Holiday Lift
Corinne Michaels
Contents
Preface
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
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Books by Corinne Michaels
Acknowledgments
About the Author
A Holiday Lift
Copyright © 2020 Corinne Michaels
All rights reserved.
ISBN e-book: 978-1-942834-61-8
ISBN print: 978-1-942834-62-5
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior written consent of the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or publisher.
* * *
Cover Design: Chelle Bliss
Editing: Ashley Williams, AW Editing
Proofreading: Michele Ficht
Brendan, you are my Christmas.
Preface
My Dearest Reader,
* * *
When I wrote A Holiday Lift two years ago, I was so excited because holiday stories are my favorite. It’s where we get to meet new characters or revisit old ones. I wanted to write a short story where we get the magic of Christmas. Something that was still very me (but not as angsty) and showed us that amazing things can happen around this time of year.
Holly and Dean did just that.
Of course, I could help but put the angst in because I think there’s seriously something wrong with me, but that’s what makes it fun, right?
This story was originally free in the Naughty and Nice anthology. However, when Passionflix optioned it for a holiday quickie, I found myself nostalgic and completely in love with this story again.
So, on the flight home from filming, I couldn’t stop my mind from needing to tell more. Hence this edition of it.
If you have already read it a few years ago, you’ll recognize the beginning, but there is a LOT of new story here. Dean and Holly’s story took a pause, but they’re back now and I wanted you see just what happened to them after the end wasn’t really the end anymore.
It’s short.
It’s sweet.
It’s Christmas and magic and all I kept thinking was … man, I love the holidays and hope you do too!
Love,
Corinne
1
“Shit!” I say as I fall to the ground half inside the elevator and half in the hall. Humiliated, I force my eyes open, only to see a pair of caramel-colored dress shoes and my dignity right there before me. Seriously, this is the worst day of my life.
This morning I found out the pitch I was going to give after the new year was moved to tomorrow, and then I found out it wasn’t Yamina who I was pitching against. Nope, it was the only person in the office who could actually kick my ass and get the account.
But that is nothing to me as I lie there in a stupid skirt for all the office to see.
“Here, let me help you.” A deep voice I’d know anywhere fills my ears a second before an offered hand drops into my line of sight.
Please, God, let this not be happening.
I lift my eyes and find that not only is it happening but also it’s happening in front of the hottest man in the building, my new enemy, the man I slept with a week ago. He’s also the man I have deep feelings for but pretend not to.
“I’m fine,” I say, trying to stop the heat from flooding my cheeks.
The doors close on my body, and I attempt to maneuver, but I can’t get up without showing all my glory.
“Holly,” Dean Pritchard says. “Give me your hand.”
Not wanting to make this any worse than it already is, I put my hand in his. “Thanks.” He helps me up, smirking at me, but at least he isn’t laughing.
“Are you okay?”
Like he cares. If he did, he would’ve called. He wouldn’t have ignored me since our drunken night of unbelievable sex. I wouldn’t have been invisible. “I’m fine. Other than being embarrassed.”
I smooth my skirt down, knowing that it lifted enough for everyone to see my bare ass.
“It looked like it hurt.”
Only my pride. “Press two please,” I say, desperate to get off the topic.
The last thing I want is to stand here and talk about the awkward fall.
“I never pegged you for going commando.”
“Not like you haven’t seen it already,” I say, adding another reason why I should get a do-over for today.
I had underwear on when I left the house, but they ripped when I went to the bathroom because I’m the biggest klutz ever and put my high heel through the crotch. That was ten minutes ago. Oh, how I wish I had a time machine.
“True.” He grins. “Still an interesting new tidbit about you.”
Yeah, I’m just full of them.
“Whatever, did you get the proposal done? I know it was last minute for you.” I’m still smoothing my clothes out as the elevator door shuts with me safely inside this time.
“I did. You?”
Nope.
“Yes.”
“Good. May the best man win.”
“Oh, I plan to.”
Dean laughs. “We’ll see. Maybe the winner buys the other some scotch?”
My eyes narrow. That was what we’d been drinking the night we got drunk and screwed against his office door, floor, and desk. “That will never happen again.”
Well, it will in my dreams because it has six times since then, but there’s no way I’ll admit that. That night was a huge mistake, but it was the best sex of my life.
He chuckles. “If you say so.”
I turn away, wishing the elevator would hurry up. My office is on the fifty-eighth floor. While the ride doesn’t typically feel like a million years, right now, I feel like I’m dying a slow death.
“Doesn’t this thing move faster?” The music isn’t helping. There’s nothing about this being the best time of the year.
The holidays do nothing but remind me that I’m alone. Every time I look at decorations, I try not to remember how much Troy would enjoy being out there on Thanksgiving night, stringing up the lights. He proposed to me on Christmas three years ago.
It was the perfect proposal. The one that girls around the world swoon over because it was just that romantic. And it was.
We were standing in our living room, dancing to “Silent Night,” and the fire was burning, giving me that perfect glow. Our beautifully lit tree was sending a shimmery white glow around the room as he held me in his arms. He leaned down, kissed my lips, and told me he wanted to spend every Christmas just like that.
Then he dropped to his knee, took out the ring, and I sobbed while nodding yes over and over.
I believed that Santa was real and he brought me the best gift ever.
A year later, when he decided he didn’t love me anymore, I learned Santa was a fraud and that the fat man had been fired, was on a diet, and shaved off his beard.
Troy ruined my favorite holiday, and of course, I don’t get to pretend it doesn’t exist because it’s almost my birthday. Therefore, Christmas is forever a celebration. Blah.
“Are you heading to the boss’s office?” Dean asks.
“No, you?�
�
“Yeah, I have a meeting today since I’m leaving for California. I figured it was better to do the pitch now.”
Oh, sure, he can go first, wow them, and then I’ll really be out. No way. I’m not going to let him weasel his way into this account like he always does.
Well, weasel is a strong word. He’s smart, cunning, and actually good at his job, which is just one more reason to hate him.
Oh, and he is really fucking good in bed.
Like, really good.
“That’s totally unfair—" The elevator slams to a stop, jerking up and down, forcing me to almost topple over. If it weren’t for Dean’s strong arms wrapping around me and stopping my second fall of the day, I probably would have.
The lights flicker and then the small emergency light goes on.
Great. This is just what I needed.
Fucking holidays.
2
“Are you all right?” he asks for the second time in the last five minutes.
My heart is racing from the punch of adrenaline and a bit from his cologne that fills my nose as I draw a deep breath. Damn, why does he have to smell so good?
“Yes, thank you—again.” I hate that, out of all the people in the building, this has to happen in front of Dean. Him constantly helping me up and catching me before I fall is so freaking contradictory. He’s the first guy I’ve thought about since Troy, I thought maybe he felt something for me, but then he brushed me off as if I were nothing.
How can he be both people in my head?
How can he be so sweet one minute but then ignore me completely the next?
It’s not as if he didn’t know about my past. In fact, that night we spoke about it. I told him about how this holiday would be hard because of my ex. We talked about work, life, our lives since both our breakups. It was great, but then he acted like I was nothing.
Although, that’s what we said before it happened.
I’m attempting to convince myself that was exactly what we both agreed to and he’s just keeping his word, but . . . I hoped.
I came in the next day, smiling with a coffee for him. He walked right past me and hasn’t said a word about what happened since then.
It’s incomprehensible to me that I finally let myself feel something other than rage toward a man, only to be . . . ignored after sex.
“Of course.” He smiles and presses the call button.
“Hello?” A man on the other end replies.
“Hi, this is Dean Pritchard and we’re stuck, can you get us going please?”
“Yes, is everyone okay?”
Dean looks back at me. “Yes, Holly Brickman and I are in here, but we’re not moving and the emergency lights are on.”
The man clears his throat. “Yes, we’re aware. There was a power outage due to the heavy snow, and unfortunately, it looks like a transformer blew, leaving the whole block out of power. The generator is broken as well, found that out late last night when we tested it, but as soon as we can get you both out, we will. Okay?”
“How long?” I yell. “I need to know!”
Dean looks back at me since the button wasn’t down and the guy on the other line couldn’t exactly hear me. He then presses it and speaks. “How long do you think that could be?”
“Not sure, sir. I’ll get back to you when I can. We’re working on getting you guys out just as fast as we can.”
“Great,” I mutter. “Another thing to add to why I hate the damn holidays. And old buildings.”
Dean shakes his head, and his brows furrow. “Why the hell do you hate the holidays? No one hates this time of year.”
“Well, I have a ton of reasons. Snow. Santa. Stupid men. Power outages. Elevators being stuck. The list really goes on . . .”
He removes his suit jacket, revealing his tight shirt that hugs all the right places. I try not to remember how it felt to have him moving above me as I gripped those arms—I fail. The memories of that night flood me. The scotch, taste of his lips, and how amazing every moment we spent together was.
“Santa?” Dean asks. “You hate Santa?”
“Yeah, him and his stupid list, which apparently I landed on the naughty side of two years ago. My gift was to get dumped. It really changed my feelings on all things holiday related.”
“Ahh.” He nods. “Yes, now I get it.”
When it happened, it wasn’t something I was quiet about. Not that I could’ve been if I wanted to be. I sobbed all the time. I swear I should’ve carried around a sign that said: Caution Slippery When Wet. With the amount of tears I cried, I left a trail. Plus, half my company was invited to the wedding that would’ve been seven days from today. Sending out the I-just-got-dumped email was super fun.
“Not my favorite time of year thanks to a certain someone.”
“You mean that idiot of an ex you were engaged to?”
“Please . . . I don’t want to talk about him.” Especially not with him.
“Understood.” He nudges me. “I could help you forget him again.”
I roll my eyes. “No thanks. Besides, I don’t really think about him at all.”
I’m too busy thinking about you.
“I’m glad to hear that. He wasn’t good enough for you anyway.” He shrugs and folds his jacket in half and then sits on the floor beside it. He doesn’t speak as he extends his hand for me to sit there.
“Why is that?”
Dean cracks his neck, looking a little uncomfortable as he offers a simple, “Because.”
I laugh and cross my arms. “Well, that clears all that up.”
“Why don’t you sit, Holly? We could be in here for a while.”
“Thank you.” I sit on the jacket, crossing my ankles in front of me since I’m not wearing panties. “I’m sorry I was being sort of bitchy. Troy does that to me.”
“Don’t be. I don’t exactly like talking about my ex either.”
I nod. “Yeah, they aren’t usually a great topic.”
“Okay, so let’s move to neutral ground. We could talk about us,” he suggests with a hint of mischief. “Or we can just be quiet . . .”
Oh, the possibilities for that suggestion are as endless as they are unlikely. And with as low on the list as talking to Dean about Tony is, talking to him about what happened is even lower.
“Can we keep talking? Please? Just not about any of the aforementioned things.”
“Okay then, what about your pitch, do you want to practice?”
I laugh. No freaking way am I going to tell him my pitch. “I’d rather swallow nails than go there.”
“Is it because you aren’t confident?”
I raise my brow. “No, it’s because I would rather not give you an edge.”
Or because I don’t have it done and don’t want him to know that.
“I don’t need an edge, babe. I plan to kick your ass.”
“Really? You’ve had a whole a day to get your presentation together, and you think you’re going to win?”
Dean’s eyes narrow and he leans close. “You hate Christmas. This is all about why the holidays are the best time of the year. You’re sort of the poster child for who not to hire.”
“I can fake it.”
“Ahh, but I know the real thing. You’re exquisite when you’re not faking it.”
I scoff. “You do not get to bring up my orgasms in a business conversation.”
He chuckles that deep laugh that does things to my girly parts. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Why would you even want this account? You’ll have to practically pretend you live in Santa’s workshop and you’re his bitch.”
Admitting this will make me sound so stupid, but it’s the truth. “I want to love the holidays again. I want to remember the magic and smile when I put my tree up again. I thought . . . I thought that maybe this would help.”
Dean’s hand rests on mine. “You shouldn’t have ever had to feel that way, Holls.”
I shake my head, not wanting to spill any more of my crazy in fr
ont of him. “Next topic.”
“All right, why don’t you tell me why you ran off last week?”
He’s like a beacon for topics I want to avoid. “Jesus Cringle! Can’t we talk about the damn weather instead of the worst topics possible?”
“Cringle?”
I know . . . I’m a dork. My mother used to say it when she was mad instead of cursing, so I can’t help it. “It’s my version of Christ.”
His smile brightens the dim space. “Adorable.”
My stomach clenches, and I look away. Is he calling me adorable or does he think the word is adorable? Either way, it shouldn’t matter. Dean and I are nothing, and we’re about to battle for this account where I will make everyone believe the holidays are nothing but joy because I’m a professional.
“Do you think we could talk about something else?”
“You want to talk, I pick what we talk about. You just mentioned the sex, I’d like to find out what the hell had you bolt like that.” His eyes are the most beautiful shade of green.
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Really, they are almost hypnotic in their stupid, deep color.
“I disagree.”
I tuck my hair behind my ear and sigh. “I didn’t bolt. It was late, we clearly hadn’t been thinking, and I didn’t want to make things awkward. I got my coat, and when I looked back, your office door was closed and the lights were off.”
Dean pushes a piece of my hair that fell from its place and shakes his head. “I was waiting for you, Holls. I heard you talking to yourself.”
My eyes bulge. “What?”
“I heard you say this was a mistake and that you wished you never saw me again.”
It was what I said to myself to make whatever happened next okay. “I . . .”
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