Merry Hearts: A Small Town Holiday Novella

by Amber Kelly

  “Whoa, what are you doing out here by yourself?” she asks when she sees me.

  “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Walker hisses.

  Elle looks up at him in confusion. “What?” she asks.

  “If it isn’t my best friend, Walker Reid.” Ricky pokes at the hornet.

  “Braxton,” Walker yells.

  The door opens, and Braxton walks out, followed by Brandt.

  “You bellowed,” Braxton deadpans before his gaze follows Walker’s, and he grimaces.

  “Here, get Elle for me, will you?” Walker says as he hands her off to her brother without taking his eyes off Ricky.

  He doesn’t get a chance to move beyond that because, in the blink of an eye, Brandt is off the porch and has Ricky by the collar.

  “You got a lot of nerve, showing up at my house. Bellamy still has a scar on her arm from your teeth marks,” he spits in Ricky’s face.

  Ricky very unwisely grins at him and says, “Good.”

  That’s when Brandt tears back and punches him so hard that his head flies around, and blood splatters all over the front of Brandt’s shirt.

  Elle screams, and that causes everyone left from the party to come flooding out onto the porch.

  Ricky stumbles backward, and he gets up and rushes at Brandt.

  “Ricky, stop,” I scream.

  “He fucking hit me, Sonia!”

  “Brandt, don’t; he’s not worth it,” Braxton says as he lets Elle go and hops off the porch. He locks his arms around Brandt’s chest and forces him backward.

  “Get out of my yard, and don’t you step foot here, the clinic, or anywhere near Bellamy again,” Brandt warns.

  Ricky brings his eyes to mine as he holds his nose. Then, he looks back at Brandt. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I was drunk that night. I’d never hurt a woman in my right mind,” Ricky tries to explain.

  Braxton is the one to answer him, “The drunk excuse doesn’t cut it, man. We’ve all been shit-faced before. Hell, we’ve all been pissed off and shit-faced before, but even in that state, we’d never, ever lay a hand on a woman. An apology is good and all, but if you want to earn any of our respect or, hell, even your own respect, then you need help. Counseling, AA, anger management … something.”

  “Would any of that make a difference?” Ricky directs his question to me.

  “Not to me, but it would to the future woman in your life,” I tell him, and pain slices through me as I see the acceptance sink in.

  He starts walking backward, and without another word, he turns and struts out of sight.

  Elle is by my side in an instant. “Are you all right?” she asks.

  I nod. “I’m fine,” I tell her.

  She wraps her arms around me anyway and holds on to me. “Do you want to come and have a sleepover with me tonight?”

  “Bells has already claimed me for the night.”

  “That sneaky bitch,” she grumbles.

  “I’ll see you at the festival tomorrow night. You’re helping Mom and me at her wreath booth, remember?”

  “I’ll be there,” she assures me.

  “What did I miss?”

  We turn to see Bells in the doorway, staring at the blood on Brandt’s shirt.

  “Walker got mouthy, and I had to teach him a lesson.” He shrugs.

  “Hey, why couldn’t it have been Braxton?” Walker complains.

  “Like she’d buy that,” Braxton retorts.

  Walker looks at him. “I’ll have you know that you are indeed the bigger asshole of the two of us. Right, baby?” he calls to Elle.

  “Maybe, but you are definitely the mouthiest.”

  “That’s it; no lovin’ for you tonight,” he threatens.

  “That’s fine. I’m staying the night here with Sonia anyway,” Elle retorts.

  “You are?” I ask.

  “Yeah, Walker has to get up early for work, and we haven’t had a sleepover in a while,” she says and then turns to Bells. “You can loan me something to sleep in, right?”

  “Of course,” Bells answers.

  “See what you did?” Walker says to Braxton.

  “I can’t help she’d rather stay here than at your house.”

  “She loves my house. Tell him, Elle. It’s like staying at a five-star hotel,” Walker prompts.

  “Yep. A five-star hotel with so-so room service,” she agrees.

  “That’s the last time you get served deer jerky breakfast in bed, woman!” He feigns being hurt.

  “Come on; it’s getting cold out here. Let’s go in and put some warm PJs on,” Bells beckons.

  We get snuggled into bed with a bowl of popcorn to watch The Santa Clause while Brandt sees the last of the guests out and locks up.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Bells asks me.

  “I am. It’s weird, but I think I needed to hear his apology to let go. It gave me some kind of closure or something,” I admit.

  “Good. Now, you’re free to find your happily ever after,” Bells declares.

  “I don’t know about that, but I do feel a little freer.”

  “Do you guys remember when we were in high school, and Dusty Owensby broke up with me? I was so devastated and swore I’d never love anyone as much as I loved him. I thought my heart couldn’t possibly recover,” Elle says.

  We nod. How could we forget?

  “Do you remember what Gram told us? That God had our husbands caught in a bush somewhere and that we shouldn’t be worried when someone broke our hearts, but thankful because that person had been in our way.”

  “Yeah, vaguely. I remember us thinking she was bananas, talking about that bush,” I answer.

  “She said Abraham was told to take his son, Isaac, up on Mount Moriah and offer him as a sacrifice. He was confused about why God would ask this of him when he promised him this son, but he was obedient even though he didn’t understand. At the last moment before he brought the knife down, God stopped him. He had a goat trapped in a bush for the sacrifice. He just wanted to know Abraham trusted him. Then, she said that we should trust if a boy walks out of our life, then he wasn’t the one. That God had our husband trapped in a bush somewhere, so we should just live our lives, find ourselves, and when the time was right, God would set him loose for us.”

  “Do you believe it’s true?” I ask her.

  “I didn’t until he set Walker loose on me. Walker Reid—who would have guessed that?”

  “Isn’t that the truth?” Bellamy adds.

  “He had Brandt trapped in a bush while I was wasting time with Derrick.”

  “Well, if he has mine trapped somewhere, maybe he’ll finally set him loose now that Ricky is out of the way. Too bad I had to marry him before I realized he wasn’t the one. Ugh, I’m going to be a twenty-four-year-old divorcée. Gross.”

  “Maybe it’s not you who isn’t ready. Maybe he has to get the one he picked out for you sorted before he’s ready to be set loose. That was the case with Walker,” Elle ponders.

  That’s a good point.

  “Hmm, you might be right. I guess I’ll just live my life and let it work itself out.”

  “That’s my girl,” Bells says.

  We hear a throat clear, and our eyes move to the door. Brandt is standing there, grinning at us.

  “You girls look comfy. I guess this means I’m on my own tonight, huh?” he asks Bells.

  “Looks like it unless I make it to the end of the movie, still awake. I might sneak in with you, but don’t wait up because I make no promises,” she says before popping a piece of popcorn in her mouth and pressing play on the remote.

  I lay my head on her shoulder.

  “You girls enjoy your night. And just shout if you need anything.”

  “Another bottle of wine would be great,” Bells says.

  “Red or white?”

  “Red,” she and I both say.

  “Coming right up,” he says before walking off.

  “Yep, totally worth the wait,” I
say.

  Charlotte

  “We have this design that we haven’t launched yet; we could do it exclusively for you,” I say.

  The drop-dead gorgeous woman across from me inspects the ring. She picks it up, turns it, and holds it up to the light. Then, she tries it on.

  Valentina Demperio is one of our select clients. She’s a woman who knows what she wants, and she will get just that. She spends a lot of money on her jewelry collection and is a fan of giving generous gifts to her friends, family, and staff. She fell in love with Sophie’s designs last year, and she is a frequent high-end shopper with us. Anything she buys has to be one of a kind and never replicated. Sophie even designs to her specifications at her requests from time to time.

  “I’ll take it. I want the sapphire replaced with an emerald though. I’d also like the wrap bracelet. One in white gold and two in yellow gold. Both fourteen karat. When will the ruby necklace for my mother be ready?”

  I look down at my tablet. “The necklace will be ready next week. I can have the sapphire replaced, and the ring and bracelets can be ready to be picked up with the necklace, if that works for you?”

  “Yes, that’s fine. Can you do a matching necklace for me? Just a tad bit less ostentatious than Mother’s. We’ll be wearing them with our gowns for the Christmas Ball this year. Oh, and add diamond hair combs too. No stones, just the diamonds. Headbands are too over the top. I want to wear something more elegant this year.”

  “You got it. I can email over the designs for approval as soon as Sophie sends them, and we’ll make sure to have them ready in time as well.”

  I’m going to have to visit the warehouse myself to have them bump this order ahead of all the other holiday orders. I don’t know Valentina all that well, but I know well enough to be cautious, and the very last thing you want to do is piss off a Demperio.

  “That will be fantastic. I’ll have the money transferred as soon as I receive your invoice. Oh, by the way, do you guys do engagement rings?” she asks.

  I look up to her and smile. “We certainly can. Are congratulations in order?”

  “Not yet, but very soon. I’ll give my boyfriend your card. You know me so well. I’m sure you can help him design something perfect for me. Something at least seven carats,” she says.

  “We can absolutely guide him in the right direction,” I agree.

  “Thank you, Charlotte,” she says as she stands.

  The bell chimes above the café door, and her eyes cut to the front.

  “Speak of the devil, here comes my love now,” she says as an insanely beautiful man walks to us.

  “Charlotte, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Nicco Mastreoni, Nicco, this is my private jeweler, Charlotte Claiborne.”

  “It’s lovely to meet you, Charlotte,” he says as he places a hand on the small of Valentina’s back.

  “Likewise,” I greet.

  As he turns to speak to her, I mouth to her, Congratulations, as I fan myself.

  She winks at me.

  “Are you ready to go, sweetheart?” he asks.

  “Yes, we were just finishing up. Thank you again, Charlotte. I will be on the lookout for your email.”

  With that, they walk out hand in hand. Whew, she’s a lucky duck.

  I gather my things, pay the tab, and hurry back to the office. This little impromptu meeting took longer than I’d expected, and I have to get back for my three o’clock appointment.

  “Thank you again for coming in. We look forward to seeing your new marketing ideas at the first of the year.”

  I lead the executives from the new firm Sophia Doreen Designs signed with from the conference room to the elevator.

  “It was our pleasure,” the tall, dark, and handsome one says with a wink as the doors open, and they step inside.

  What a flirt.

  I give him a little wave as the doors close and then head back to my office to grab my purse and call it a day.

  “Charlotte, you have a call on line two,” my assistant, Sara, says as I pass her desk.

  “Thanks. I’ll grab it at my desk. You can go ahead and head home. I’ll lock up.”

  “Perfect. I can make it to the deli before they close. Have a great weekend,” she calls after me as she closes her laptop and packs it in her tote.

  When I make it to my office, I kick off my heels and slide into my chair. It’s been a crazy week with holiday sales, and I am exhausted.

  I press the blinking light on the phone and settle back.

  “Sophia Doreen Designs. Talk to me,” I say with fake enthusiasm.

  “Hi, gorgeous.”

  “I’m sorry, but I didn’t catch your name,” I say as a smile creeps into my brain fog.

  “It’s your favorite addiction,” he drawls.

  “Hmm, not ringing a bell. You’ll have to be more specific,” I tease.

  “Oh, I can be more specific, sweetheart. Are you alone?”

  I giggle.

  “Shit, slow down, man. We aren’t in a race,” he says.

  “I don’t get it. Are we role-playing?” I ask.

  “I’m sorry, what?” he asks.

  “I thought you were revving me up for phone sex?”

  “Whoa, that was close. Stay in your lane,” he yells.

  I hear muffled swearing and a symphony of loud blasts.

  “Payne, where are you?” I ask.

  “I’m in a death trap. That’s where I am,” he bites out.

  An offended voice in the background curses him, and he chuckles.

  “Payne Henderson, where are you?” I ask as suspicion and hope begin to bubble.

  “I’m in the back of a taxi, on my way from JFK into Manhattan, watching my life flash before my eyes. Seriously, why do any of you bother to honk your horn when everyone is laying on them all at once? That’s not how they work.”

  I jump to my feet. “You’re here. In New York City?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I decided to surprise my favorite girl for Christmas.”

  I scream.

  “Damn, I hope that was a good screech and not a what the fuck were you thinking, coming here screech.”

  “Oh my God, I can’t believe you got on a plane. Where are you? Or where are you headed?”

  “Sophie gave me your address,” he answers.

  “Oh no, hand your driver the phone,” I demand.

  “I don’t think he needs the distraction.”

  “Oh, please, New York taxi drivers can drive with their eyes closed. Give him the phone,” I insist.

  “Hello?” an unfamiliar voice comes over the line.

  “Hey, reroute. You bring that sexy cowboy straight to my office at the corner of Thirty-Sixth and Park.”

  I hear more cursing before Payne’s voice comes back on.

  “I’ll be there in twenty.”

  “I’ll be waiting,” I say before clicking off the line.

  I pick up the receiver and dial Sophie’s number.

  “You’re welcome,” Sophie says instead of a greeting.

  “You sneaky bitch. I can’t believe you didn’t warn me!”

  “He wanted to surprise you. I told him you were bummed that you weren’t going to be able to come to Colorado before the holidays to meet Lily Claire and see us all. I obviously can’t travel right now, so he asked me to help him. I got him on a flight and helped him navigate JFK and the taxi lines.”

  “Well, I’m surprised. He is on his way to the office now. I’ve got to go. I need to spruce up, go splash water on my bits, and spritz on some perfume or something.”

  “It’s Payne, remember? The guy you went camping with, rode four-wheelers in the mud with, and stayed out all night long, dancing and drinking with. He knows what all your bits smell like,” she says with amusement.

  “It’s been months since he got a load of my bits, and I want them in tip-top shape when he sees them again. Now, bye. I’ll call you tomorrow,” I say before hanging up, and I can hear her laughter before I click off the line.
>
  I run to my private bathroom and do the best I can. I’m just swiping on my lip gloss when I hear the ring. I run to my desk and see the doorman is calling up.

  I hit the speaker. “Yes?”

  “Miss Claiborne, there is a Payne Henderson here to see you. I’ve explained that it is after hours, and I can’t just let him into the building, but he is a bit impatient.”

  “That’s okay, Barry. He’s a friend of mine. You can let him up.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Right away.”

  He hangs up, and my stomach fills with anticipation.

  Five minutes later, the elevator doors open, and Payne steps into our front foyer, looking like a country dream. I don’t say a word; I just take off running for him. He drops his duffel bag and catches me just as I fling myself into his arms and crush my mouth to his.

  His hands slide from my waist and settle on the curve of my ass before he hoists me up and starts carrying me forward. I continue to assault his mouth as we pass my secretary’s desk. When he makes it to the opening of the hallway, he stops.

  I break from his lips long enough to say, “The last door on the right.”

  He hurries us to the door of my office, and I reach behind me and frantically feel for the handle. I finally find it, and we lurch forward as I twist, bursting into the space.

  He carries me to my desk and sets me on the edge. I pull back and tug his shirttail from the waistband of his jeans and start unbuttoning them. My fingers can’t move fast enough. Once I get to the top, he shrugs it off his shoulders and leans back to pull his white T-shirt off before dropping it on the floor.

  I rake my nails through his smattering of dark chest hair and down his rippled abs to the button of his jeans and pop it open. I’m too impatient to wait for him to slide them down, so my hand fishes into the front until I find what I’m looking for. Hard and ready. I wrap my fingers around him and tug gently, and he groans.

  “I have always wanted to have office sex,” I confess.

  “Happy to oblige, ma’am.”

  That accent and those polite words of his turn me on so much.

  “I’ve been wet since you called me. I thought you’d never get here,” I tell him as I slide my hand as far as I can and back up.

  “Yeah, well, I’ve been on an airplane for three hours, unsuccessfully trying to hide a painful erection from a very attentive flight attendant,” he grits out.