Hello! I hope you're heading toward a joyful Christmas if you celebrate it or happy holidays if your beliefs lead you in another direction. :)
The end of November was an emotional time. My oldest child was hospitalised, but thankfully is now home safe and well on the road to recovery. To counter this stressful time, I'm sharing some good news, too.
I earned a first place and a third place in a short story contest. 'Love Conquers' was the theme, and I'm sharing the winning entry with you.
I hope you enjoy reading it. :)
I also have a short story in this year's anthology, Symphony of Love.
FREE STORY - BAH HUMBUG!
“Just look at him,” Ainsley says in a voice that should be a whisper yet draws a few side-eyes from those nearest us. “His face all aglow. A twinkle in his eye. That wasn’t there yesterday. I reckon Mr Bah Humbug got la-”
“Ainsley!” My attempt at a whisper comes out like a shriek and draws more stares our way, including the man in question. His cheeks redden as though he knows we’re talking about him, but that naughty twinkle in his eyes intensifies when his gaze flicks away again. Then he adds a sexy smirk for good measure as Christmas carols fill the room.
Breathe, Ivy. And whatever you do, don’t stare at him.
“What?” Ainsley asks with feigned innocence.
She gazes at me over the top of her coffee cup, a mix of foam and cinnamon decorating her top lip like a salt-and-pepper moustache. Wide-eyed, I mirror her expression. Only my lips press together in defiance instead of the wicked grin she flashes at me.
Our treat’s arrival, a decadent angel cake, provides a timely distraction. She exclaims over the fluffy, airy goodness with its powdered dusting of icing sugar, which looks like newly fallen snow. Focusing on my plate, I shove a forkful of delicate sponge into my mouth in an unladylike manner, so I don’t say anything more than “Thank you,” to our server, Mr Bah Humbug himself.
His fingertips brush against my arm as he pulls his hand away. That all-to-brief touch allows me to recall what happened last night, and it sure isn’t visions of sugarplums dancing in my head.
As the Deputy Manager, I tended bar in the restaurant most nights. Ainsley had just finished her shift. Mine started in an hour, which was why we were having our sugar hit before I started work. Usually, I needed the extra sweetness to counter his sour attitude. Tonight, I was going through the motions so I wouldn’t arouse Ainsley’s suspicions.
She knew all about my difficult boss and his extra grinchy attitude toward Christmas. The end-of-year parties and good cheer seemed to make him angrier. In private, we’d laughed at his obvious disdain for all things merry and bright. The fact his name was Nick only made things funnier. Then she’d commiserate with me on having to work with Mr Bah Humbug, as Ainsley liked to call him, while he grumbled behind the scenes. In the early days, all I’d wanted was a job, and I’d been too closed off to care about his cantankerous moods.
But that was before I’d learned he’d lost his parents in a car accident three years ago on Christmas Eve.
***
He’d been angrier last night. He’d already driven one server to tears. Another had walked out swearing they’d never set foot in the place again. I’d like to think I’d calmed the chef enough not to quit when Nick started in on him just before the dinner rush. When another server dropped a trayful of empty glasses near closing time, I’d thought Nick would have gone ballistic. If his clenched jaw, wild-eyed gaze and flaring nostrils were anything to go by, his brain had imploded. I’d helped the poor girl, broom and brush pan at the ready to sweep up the glass while he’d simmered in the background. I’d sent her home with the assurance her job was safe and everything would be fine, and it was. Until I’d cut my hand on a piece of broken glass.
Stomach churning, waves of dizziness threatening, I’d turned away from the scarlet puddle staining my palm. I’d shut out the long-hidden memories that fought to rise to the surface. I hadn’t wanted to think about the night a junkie murdered my parents. How he’d tried to murder me, too.
Nick’s loud cursing had broken through my wayward thoughts and told me he’d noticed what happened. I’d braced for the worst. I’d expected a sarcastic comment about the mess I’d made or his utter contempt at how careless I was. Instead, Mr Bah Humbug led me to his office, ordered me to sit in the chair, and knelt at my feet. He’d produced a First Aid kit as though by magic and set about tending to my wound.
In the first few moments, more to distract myself from the pain and the awful memories threatening to close in, I’d noted even his office had failed to escape the tinsel-town explosion. Thin strips of colourful foil meandered across the filing cabinet, spiralled around a pot plant, and still more had lain scrunched up in a sparkly metallic coil on the floor. No doubt he’d cast it aside in fury when he pushed it off his desk, where fragments of gold, silver, and cheery red had clung lovingly to the edge of its wooden surface. I forgot all about everything else when his warm hand cupped mine.
Frozen, I’d stared at the top of his head, his dark hair curling around his ears, while he examined the cut. I hadn’t taken in his murmured words of comfort. I’d noted how gentle he was, how careful he was being. Like my needs mattered. Like I mattered. And I’d started thinking where else those gentle hands could touch.
“You won’t need stitches. I’ll put on some antiseptic and then I’ll wrap it for you.”
I hadn’t noticed a thing except for his hands touching mine.
“If it’s too painful tomorrow, seek further medical attention. I’ll have someone else cover your shift. Ivy? Are you alright?”
Our gazes met. His eyes glimmered, although whether that was because the Christmas lights surrounding us had amplified his golden-brown gaze or there’d been something more in that heated look, I wasn’t sure. He’d seemed to read something else in my eyes, too. Like he’d already knew the wanton path my thoughts had taken. Gone was his firmly set mouth with his lips curled with disdain. Gone was the furrowed brow and the uptight, aloof air he usually projected. And gone was whatever sanity I might have had when he pointed to the greenery with its pearly white berries poised above our heads.
Whoever placed mistletoe over my employer’s chair was the bravest person I knew, or they were borderline insane. Or perhaps they were a bloody genius.
“Ivy,” he said, but I’d already stood, unmindful of my tender palm, and pulled him up, lifting my head so my face was level with his. Our locked gazes had begged each other for permission. Our chins had bobbed up and down in mutual consent before our lips met, converging into a kiss of desire and longing that had us both begging for more.
“Vixen,” he teased, when we’d come up for air. Then he’d added, “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day you started here.”
“If we’re confessing,” I said, running my fingers through his hair with one hand while my injured one rested on his nape, “I wanted you to kiss me too.”
He’d eased back a little, his arms still holding me tight. I’d worried I’d said the wrong thing. Maybe we should have kept on kissing and used all that mistletoe magical goodness instead of pausing for a decent breath. His gaze had stayed locked with mine and the frown I was used to seeing returned. “Are you okay?” I’d asked.
“I’ve hated this place for the memories it contains. All this place does now is remind me my parents aren’t here anymore. How they died no thanks to a drunk-driving idiot who had too much of a good time at a Christmas party. How much I miss all those happier times.” The left side of his mouth quirked up in a half-smile. “Until you made me believe in miracles again.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you, Ivy.”
His hold on me loosened, but he hadn’t released me. If I’d wanted to, we both know I’d have stepped out of the circle of his arms, but I’d stayed right where I was.
“No matter what this place throws at you… No matter what I throw at you, you always stay so calm. I used to hide in my office so I wouldn’t get caught staring, but I love watching how you relate to everyone. How you always have time to help someone else, even when you’re working so hard yourself.”
Nick glanced at his feet before pinning me with his gaze once more. I’d gasped at the depth of emotion I saw there.
“You remind me of what this place was like when my parents were alive. Back when I was a carefree kid who pretended he could do all the jobs, from cleaning to sitting in Dad’s office chair and pretending I was ordering supplies. Of the days when I’d sneak into the kitchen and help myself to food before the chef came back and chased me out again. You remind me I was happy once, and for a long time, I didn’t know whether I hated you for that, or if it was something more.”
His grip on my waist had tightened, but it wasn’t painful.
“I was happy once, too,” I said.
“Was? What do you mean? You’re always smiling.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, but I understand it.” A part of me couldn’t believe I was confessing this, but it mattered that I shared this with him. “I lost my parents years ago in a home invasion. I’ve been on my own for a long time. This is the first place I felt safe. Like I was home. Even if you are the crankiest man I’ve ever met,” I said, and grinned. All that confessing had made things feel heavy. I’d needed to lighten them.
“I’m so sorry, Ivy. I didn’t know.”
He’d pulled me closer, right under the mistletoe again.
“You could have told me. I would have understood. You’re not alone.” He’d released a humourless laugh. “Look at me telling you to do the opposite of what I’ve been doing these past few years.”
“I’ve had more time to deal with my pain.” I’d shrugged. “Well, maybe I just hid it better.”
Nick had grinned, and I’d wanted to hold on to that megawatt smile forever.
“You’re not good at hiding everything.”
“I’m not?”
“Nope. I’ve seen the way you look at me. And then there’s the way you responded to our kiss just now…”
Hope had flared in his gaze when heat rushed to my cheeks.
“I’m not glad you’re hurt, and I wish you’d told me sooner about your parents. I know that’s because of the way I’ve acted, but I want to change that.”
He placed a gentle hand against my cheek.
“I, I don’t want to be the grumpy grinch anymore, Ivy.”
I hadn’t wanted to talk anymore, either. I’d wanted to go back to the kissing. To showing him I understand the hurt he’d been suffering for far too long. Later, there’d be time to talk about the future, but last night, all I’d wanted were his hands on my body. I’d pressed myself closer, and there wasn’t enough ice in the Arctic to take away the heat that consumed me. Nick had understood my unspoken message, because he kissed his way down my throat and nibbled on the sensitive skin already begging for more of his lips, his hands, his everything. I’d lost any sense of decorum when his hand slipped under my shirt and slid upward.
***
Across from me, Ainsley’s sharp inhale interrupts my thoughts just before I get to the best part.
“Look at him. He just smiled at another server and complimented her in front of a customer. He never does that. What happened here last night?”
I offer her a non-committal shrug before saying, “I better get to work.” My gaze meets Nick’s and passion fills my veins before I whisper the only answer Ainsley will get for now.
“Bah humbug.”
THE END
I look forward to chatting with you all in the new year and I hope happiness and opportunity fill your 2025 with joy. :)
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Until next time.
Danni
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