Jingle Balls: A Holiday Romantic Comedy Anthology

by Dylann Crush

  “Brittany also mentioned you live in San Francisco,” Lucinda said to me.

  For a masked ball, where our identities were a secret, my sister was certainly spilling the jelly beans when it came to all there was to know about me.

  Please tell me you never mentioned my deceased husband.

  “That’s right,” I said.

  “She mentioned you used to live in Boston—”

  I sensed she was going to say more, but Grayson coughed as though clearing his throat, and her words came to an abrupt halt.

  She threw him a subtle smirk. He gave a barely perceptible shake of his head.

  “Do you live in San Francisco?” I asked him. My tone was edged with a curiosity I shouldn’t have felt. I really didn’t want to know anything about him. If I found out too much, the magic of the moment would be reduced to glitter.

  “No, Chicago.” His deep, sexy voice left my insides quivering like leaves caught in a stiff breeze.

  “That’s quite the drive just to attend the ball.”

  “You might say I happened to be in the neighborhood, and my grandmother asked if I would attend as her date.”

  Aww, that’s so sweet.

  “My poor Alfred died ten years ago from testicular cancer,” Lucinda explained, “which is why this charity event is important to me. And why awareness and early detection is vital.”

  “I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said to them both, praying Brittany didn’t decide this was a good time to inform them about my dead husband.

  Luckily, she remained silent on the topic.

  “Thank you, my dear,” Lucinda said. “I was fortunate to have a supportive family and friends to help me get through it. And you know the best part?”

  I shook my head, clueless at what it could be.

  “Just because you lose someone you loved doesn’t mean you’ll never love again.” She winked at me, confirming she did know the truth. What else had my dear sweet sister shared? My social security number? “I found a new prince, and I’m just as much in love with him as I was with my sweet Alfred.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” My words had more to do with her falling in love with someone new than the chance of that happening to me again.

  I shifted on my feet and twisted toward the orchestra, now playing a new piece.

  I could almost imagine Cinderella and Prince Charming waltzing to the music with the other couples dancing.

  “Would you like to dance?” The question was a low murmur against my ear, and my insides quivered once again, in a way that would make a bowl of Jell-O envious.

  2

  Logan

  The blue-eyed, blonde beauty had turned to the dance floor, where couples were moving in time to the music. Some clearly knew how to waltz—unlike me.

  I was a hockey player, not a dancer. But that hadn’t stopped me from asking Kiera if she wanted to dance. I’d sensed she wanted to escape my grandmother’s questioning as much as I did.

  This wasn’t the first time I’d met Kiera. Her husband, Stephen Ashdown, had been both my teammate in college and best friend.

  The last time I’d seen her was at his funeral a year ago.

  And Christ, she still looked as beautiful as she had back then. Beautiful, but not as sad.

  How did I know she was the same Kiera I’d met in college?

  I’d seen her checking into the hotel with a man a few hours ago. Although at the time, I hadn’t realized he was her brother-in-law.

  The unnamed emotion I’d experienced when I saw her with the man I thought was her new boyfriend hadn’t been alone. Shock, excitement, desire had all been its teammates, along with unease. The unease felt when you’re slammed into the boards during a game, and you pray you haven’t just exacerbated a previous injury.

  I shook the thought aside. Happiness—that was what I should’ve felt at seeing her. And I had. Because Kiera being here, not far from the ski slopes where Stephen had lost his life, meant she was moving on. Which was exactly what he would’ve wanted.

  Kiera looked at me and smiled. It was the smile I’d missed seeing all these years. A smile that had been absent the day of Stephen’s funeral. In its place had been the reserved, relieved-to-see-me smile, but nothing beyond that.

  This smile? It was all dimples and had been responsible for a few of my morning hard-ons in college.

  She tilted her head to the side. “I would love to dance. Thank you.”

  I held out my hand and led her to the dance floor, silently thanking my daughter’s love of Cinderella and Beauty and the Beast for teaching me what I was supposed to do in situations like this. It wasn’t as if playing with the Chicago Blackhawks had prepared me for this moment.

  Away from my grandmother’s prying eyes, I parked my hand on Kiera’s waist. The zap of electricity from earlier, when I kissed the back of her hand, hummed through me again.

  Kiera’s gaze locked on mine. Her lips parted slightly, and the tip of her tongue traveled slowly along her lower lip. The move sent a shot of red-hot desire to my cock.

  I don’t think she even realized she’d done it. The move seemed subconscious.

  With one hand still on her waist, the other holding her hand, I started swaying to the music. Her soft floral scent that I remembered so well prompted a kaleidoscope of memories. Memories of sitting next to her in geology class. Of studying with her. Of introducing her to my best friend at a party. I’d never had a chance with her after that.

  The soft waves of her dark-blonde hair brushed teasingly against the fabric of her low-cut dress. Without meaning to, I let my gaze wander down to her mouthwatering cleavage. But what did you expect? I’m a hot-blooded man, after all.

  The gold scripted letters of her necklace glinted in the light, and the adrenaline rush of an overtime goal pulsed through my veins.

  She still has it?

  I’d given her the “Believe” necklace as a graduation gift after I’d seen it in a store while the Blackhawks were in Nashville for a game. I ended up missing part of practice when I failed to return to the arena on time, and the head coach rightfully reamed me out. My punishment? Sitting out that night’s game as a healthy scratch.

  But the look on Kiera’s face when I gave her the necklace had made it all worth it.

  I couldn’t believe she still had it.

  “Are you enjoying the ball so far?” she asked, yanking me from my thoughts.

  “I can’t say it’s my scene, but it’s for a good cause.”

  “I’m sorry about your grandfather.” She smiled softly at me.

  “Thank you.” I swallowed down the urge to tell her I was sorry about her husband. To do that would’ve given away too much. “Did you come all the way to Lake Tahoe just for the ball? Or are you also here to hit the slopes?” I didn’t believe it was the latter. Stephen had told me Kiera wasn’t much of a skier.

  “Just the ball. I’m returning to San Francisco on Sunday. Winter break doesn’t start for another five days. What about you?”

  “I have a flight out tomorrow morning.” The Blackhawks had a game scheduled in Anaheim for Sunday afternoon. As it was, I was lucky the team had granted me permission to miss two practices to be here.

  The smile returned to Kiera’s lips. And the sudden need to kiss her powered through me.

  I wasn’t the only one who seemed to share the sentiment. Her gaze dropped to my mouth, and I leaned down without any thought to what I was doing. All I could think about was what she would taste like.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” a man said next to us. I jerked away from Kiera. His name tag claimed he was a member of the hotel staff. “There’s a call for you, Mr—”

  “Okay,” I said, cutting him off before he had a chance to finish the sentence.

  Kiera’s sister had already mentioned my last name when she introduced Kiera to my grandmother. Still, I didn’t want Kiera to link it to me if she hadn’t already. As it was, I was lucky my grandmother preferred to use my middle name, Grayson, than the
one everyone else called me. I couldn’t explain why, but I didn’t want Kiera to learn it was me.

  At least not yet.

  You’re probably thinking that Mathews isn’t exactly an uncommon last name. You’d be right about that. But I still didn’t want to give her a reason to add two and two together and start asking questions.

  Whoever was calling me must’ve been doing so with good reason. Only a few people knew I was here, and I’d left my phone in my room to charge.

  “I’ll be right back,” I told Kiera, then followed the man toward the main ballroom doors.

  At the front desk, he handed me the phone.

  “Hello, Logan Mathews speaking.”

  “Hey, sorry to bug you,” Stacy, my ex-wife, said. “But Livi has a stomachache, and she wanted you to sing to her. I told her you were busy—”

  “No, that’s okay. Give me a minute, and I’ll FaceTime her from my room.”

  I could hear the smile in Stacy’s voice when she said, “Thanks, Logan. I keep telling Tony to take singing lessons since it’s not always feasible for you to sing to her when she’s sick.”

  I chuckled. Most men would probably be jealous if their ex-wife’s new husband wanted to sing to their child. And maybe I should’ve been.

  But Tony had been there for Livi when I couldn’t because of my hockey career—a career that had eventually led to Stacy and me divorcing a year ago.

  Not wanting to risk some asshole swooping in on Kiera like a ravenous vulture because I left her alone for too long, I jogged to the elevator.

  “Hey, baby girl,” I said a short time later on my phone. I was sitting on the wing-backed chair in my hotel room. Olivia was lying on her bed at home, surrounded by a billion stuffed animals.

  “Hi, Daddy.” At the sound of her sweet, seven-year-old voice, my heart drooped like a wilted plant thirsty for water. Shit. I missed her, even though I’d seen her just yesterday. “Have you danced with any princesses yet?”

  I laughed. “It’s not that kind of ball.”

  Her face screwed up into a comical look of disappointment. “Great Granny said there would be lots of princesses there. And at least one on-duty fairy godmother, just in case.”

  Stacy’s laugh came through the speaker even though I couldn’t see her. She must’ve been holding the iPad.

  I smacked my palm against my forehead. “Oh, that’s who that was with the purple dress, wings, and magic wand. I didn’t recognize her.”

  The disappointment smoothed from Livi’s face, and she smiled, revealing a hole where one of her baby teeth used to be.

  “Mommy told me you’ve got a tummy ache,” I said.

  Livi pouted and nodded.

  “Do you want me to sing it better?”

  She nodded again.

  So, I sang “Frosty the Snowman,” her favorite Christmas carol.

  Followed by “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer”—because I really missed my baby girl.

  3

  Kiera

  How did I feel Project Kissing Under the Mistletoe was going?

  I thought it was going well. But what did I know?

  Flirting and reading the signs had never been my superpower.

  Not even close.

  But as far as I could tell, Grayson seemed interested. I was positive that before we’d been interrupted, he was leaning in to kiss me.

  Or maybe that was wishful thinking.

  But if he had kissed me on the dance floor, would it have counted when it came to my goal for the night? It wasn’t as if there was mistletoe hanging where we’d been standing.

  I surveyed the crowded ballroom but couldn’t find a single sprig of the plant anywhere.

  That was okay. As an elementary schoolteacher, you learned to be flexible.

  A kiss was still a kiss. The lack of mistletoe didn’t change that.

  Through the etched glass of the double French doors, I caught a glimpse of the mountains. Moonlight reflected softly off the white snow.

  For some unknown reason, the mountains beckoned to me the way a rich, creamy brownie beckoned to a chocoholic. I’d never been a skier. That had been all Stephen. He’d loved the thrill of racing down the slope, taking the sharp turns with high precision.

  Me? I was more a fan of the bunny slope—and sitting by the roaring fireplace in the ski lodge, savoring a mug of hot chocolate.

  Not expecting the doors to be unlocked, I tested one. Delight swelled in me when it clicked open. I briefly scanned the ballroom to check if Grayson had returned yet. When I didn’t see him, I slipped outside.

  The freezing mountain air instantly wrapped around me like an ice blanket. But the white Christmas tree lights on the shrubs skirting the large balcony called to me, their festive holiday magic hard to resist. Other than the potted plants and a few old-fashioned lampposts, which added a romantic glow to the area, the balcony was empty.

  The Christmas lights weren’t the only things that looked magical. Thousands of stars twinkled above me. I swirled on the spot, taking them all in.

  “God, it’s beautiful.” Puffs of white clouds rose with each word.

  “It is,” a female voice said from behind, startling a gasp out of me.

  I whirled around to find a woman I hadn’t noticed before step from the shadows. Her long-sleeved, pale-blue gown shimmered in the light from the nearby lamppost. Her thick white-blonde hair was pulled up in a poufy style popular in the 1960s.

  Unlike everyone inside the ballroom, she wasn’t wearing a mask.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Her voice held the faded edge of an English accent. “I had to sneak away for a second to have a quick smoke. I’m trying to quit, but I haven’t quite got there yet.”

  I smiled reassuringly at her. “That’s okay. I was just admiring the stars. I don’t see them very often in the city.”

  “Aren’t you cold?”

  I figured the goose bumps on my arms and shivering were enough of an answer. Besides, I couldn’t imagine she was doing much better. “It’s okay. I won’t be outside long enough to turn into an icicle.”

  She glanced skyward again. “It really is magical out here.”

  “It is.”

  “Well, I’m going back inside to mingle. You’re welcome to borrow my shawl while you’re out here. It really is nice and toasty.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t do that.”

  “I insist.” She slipped the royal-blue cashmere shawl from her shoulders and spread it across my bare skin. The soft fabric was surprisingly warm, and my arms and body sighed with relief.

  My gown was breathtaking, but the sweetheart neckline and the spaghetti straps weren’t exactly practical for winter in Lake Tahoe.

  “Thank you,” I told her. “I’m Kiera.”

  “Nice to meet you, Kiera. I’m Helena. Well, toodle-oo.” She wiggled her satin-gloved fingers at me, and with a swish of her skirt, hurried inside through the door I’d used.

  Happy to stay outside a little longer, I walked over to the stone balcony railing to get a better view of the mountains and the stars. The tangy scent of pine trees greeted me. It was like standing in a Christmas tree lot, only better. I could almost hear the ringing of sleigh bells and a hearty “Ho, ho, ho.”

  I inhaled a deep breath, suddenly feeling a little lighter. Lighter than I’d thought I would feel returning to the area.

  A small voice inside my head urged me to go back inside, so Grayson could easily find me—assuming he was still interested. But another voice told me that being out here, on the balcony, couldn’t be more right. It was peaceful. Romantic.

  A break from my regular life.

  Who knew masquerade balls could be so freeing?

  The breeze brushed against my cheek in a brief kiss. “I miss you,” I whispered to it as if the wind would carry my words to the stars.

  At the thought of kissing a stranger—the first baby step in moving on with my life—my heart clenched to the size of a prickly pinecone. “What am
I thinking?” I asked the breeze. “The last thing I should be doing is kissing another—”

  I didn’t have a chance to finish the thought out loud. A sudden gust of wind tugged the shawl from my shoulders.

  I gasped and pivoted to catch the shawl before it could hit the ground.

  Standing behind me was the man who had the power to still the air in my lungs. The blue fabric was grasped in his hand, a sexy one-sided smile on his face. “I take it this is yours,” Grayson said.

  Now, you might be wondering if I believe in ghosts or the paranormal.

  Or signs from beyond the grave.

  Not really.

  But that didn’t stop the air rushing from me at his inexplicable timing.

  Or maybe it was just relief that he had saved the shawl from a disastrous fate.

  “No, it belongs to a guest at the ball. She loaned it to me so I could stay outside for a bit and enjoy all of this.” I gestured with a grand sweep of my arm at the wintery scenery.

  “Here, let me put it back on you. I wouldn’t want you to get cold.” His white, wispy breath merged with my own.

  He leaned in closer, his body almost touching mine, and draped the shawl around my shoulders. The pads of his fingers traced across my skin, igniting a trail of tingling goose bumps. My pulse thrummed loud and rapid in my ears, blocking out all other sounds, and I inhaled a soft breath.

  “I really want to kiss you,” Grayson said, his voice low and husky.

  The wind picked up behind me, nudging me forward.

  Or maybe I’d imagined that.

  “I want that, too,” I whispered.

  At this point, I didn’t care about the lack of mistletoe. Kissing under the stars was just as magical—maybe even more so.

  Sure, tomorrow, this would all be a distant memory. Grayson lived in Chicago, and I lived in San Francisco. But that didn’t matter. At least then, I’d have something special to remember about the masquerade ball.

  Something to tell my grandchildren one day.