Jingle Balls: A Holiday Romantic Comedy Anthology

by Dylann Crush

  He shrugged out of his coat then joined her. “I was reluctant too. Especially since Parker wouldn’t tell me anything about you.” Except that she was hot and easy-going. “And I can relate.”

  She narrowed her gaze at him, pushing a few strands of hair from her face, the coil stubbornly bouncing back. “You can relate? I’m sorry, but unless you’ve had breast cancer, you really can’t.” She sipped the coffee he’d brought her.

  He set his cup next to the half-empty mug and donuts. “Looks like you started without me.”

  “You still haven’t answered me.”

  The last thing he expected to do was dive into his private life with a woman he’d just met. And normally, he wouldn’t, but he’d caught her off guard and hurt her unnecessarily, so the least he could do was even the playing field for her.

  “I had testicular cancer.”

  The defensive look morphed her eyes into concern.

  “I’m fine, but I had chemo and lost a testicle.” Shifting his position on the couch, he sighed. “Not necessarily something I love sharing on the first date, but I owe you. So…I guess you’re not as special as you thought you were.”

  The look she gave him made him wince, but then her eyes widened, and she laughed. “I guess not!” Her smile transformed her face, making it seem as though light shone from her eyes. “Wait a second.” She slapped the couch, causing one of her mutts to lift his head then drop it back to the floor in indifference.

  “Sage and Parker kept telling me to go on this date. That they knew a guy who was perfect for me.”

  He nodded, remembering how eager they both were. “Same.”

  “Do you think? Noooo… Do you think they figured we were perfect for each other because I only have one breast and you only have one ball?”

  The string of words that made up the sentence were so ludicrous he couldn’t help but guffaw, but the more he thought about it, the more he could see it. It was exactly something Parker would do. Hell, the fucker lured him to Cape Van Buren from New York simply because Nate loved lobster and thrived in his extroverted—never knew a stranger—personality. A combination made for the Cape.

  They stared at each other for one horrifying moment, then her lips trembled and cracked into a smile, and all-out laughter burst forth again. Her reaction was contagious, and the same happened to him. She laughed so hard she wrapped her arms around her middle. He loved how her hair bobbed with her efforts and that she didn’t hold back at all.

  It was something he’d noticed in survivors. They might still shy away from sharing their scars, but many refused to shy away from life.

  Extending his hand, he said, “I’m Nate Ward. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Her laughter came to an abrupt halt. “Wait. What? Nate Ward? As in Nathaniel Ward?” Her brows snapped together.

  He slowly set his cup down. Why the sudden change in demeanor? Hesitantly, he answered, “Yes. Why?”

  “Son of a bitch. I’m going to kill her.” Alora sat up.

  “I don’t follow.”

  She slid her hand into his and squeezed hard. “I’m Alora…Kingsley…from Eclectic Finds.”

  As the shock ripped through him, she doubled over in laughter all over again. This time her dogs came over to investigate, sniffing and whining at her side.

  Through her laughter, she tried to talk. “I wanted to kill you this morning…then the door…and the staring…” She gestured with her hands, then pulled in a breath, attempting to control her laughter.

  “I did not see this coming.” His voice sounded weird to his own ears, but he was at a loss.

  With a wink, she shook her head. “Neither did I, but considering, you kinda owe me.”

  He studied her a moment. The playful sparkle in her eye, the way her freckles looked like a flock of birds heading toward the other side of her face. “Come to the ball with me tomorrow night.”

  “Okay.”

  The excitement that shot through him was ridiculous, but he ignored its warning. “I can’t give Eclectic Finds a featured spot.”

  She flashed him a grin. “I’ll change your mind.”

  2

  Alora took advantage of a distraction named Maxine to stare at Nate. Broad shoulders with thick arms and an ass to die for.

  This could take a minute.

  Thank God for Maxine. She should be mayor for all the rules and advice she dispensed to the town, but Sebastian Marth held that title even if in name alone. At the moment though, Maxine was explaining to Nate why the Jingle Balls ball should consider a penis made of candy canes and Christmas tree ornaments as its logo.

  “Humor is the finest medicine…well, outside of my moonshine that is.” She nodded as if her own confirmation made it so.

  Nate rubbed the side of his face, and Alora bet he was searching for the right words. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mrs. Van Buren.”

  He’d found the wrong ones. And Maxine took the next ten minutes to tell him why.

  Which suited Alora just fine. She stepped back from Nate to get a better angle for his once-over.

  “Subtle.”

  Sage’s voice startled her, and she spun to find her cousin leading Moby the moose along the sidewalk.

  Alora eyed the beautiful animal with unease, preferring to study the fine line of Nate’s strong back instead of wondering just how fast Moby could charge. “Is it really a good idea to have him here?” she asked.

  The little guy who was getting less little in every passing moment had imprinted on her aunt, and nothing they’d done had gotten him to stay in the wilderness. Each time they dropped him off in the woods, Evette would wake up to him gnawing on the front railing of her porch the next morning.

  Sage pursed her lips and nodded. “I agree, but your aunt cornered me when I bought my ticket and asked me to watch out for him until she got back.”

  Alora tsked. “That was your first mistake. Never go through a ticket line involving any of the North Cove Mavens. They always put you to work!”

  Sage chuckled. “Agreed. At least he makes for good comic strip material.”

  “How’s the date going so far?” Sage asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

  Alora planted her hands on her hips. “Yeah…I need to talk to you about that. Just because I only have one boob—”

  Sage stopped her with a raised hand. “I don’t want to hear it. We don’t expect you two to marry, just to let loose. You’ve been stuck, and Nate is the perfect guy to get…unstuck with.”

  Alora stared at her cousin. Was she hearing this right? Were Parker and Sage setting up an ice breaker for sex?

  “Are you ser—"

  “No!” Shelly Ann, the bohemian queen of the Flat Iron Coffeehouse, shouted from the sidewalk as she came running toward Sage and Alora. The two women froze, uncertain of the need for alarm.

  “No, no, no! Why is that animal over here? He’s ruining the Jubilee!” Shelly Ann waved her arms toward her holiday concession stand that would host the Holiday Jubilee Crepes and Java bruncheon on Sunday.

  Now, amongst the beautiful twinkle lights hanging from the lampposts of the North and South Cove Parks, the decorated trees, and intricate wreaths was a pile of moose shit.

  Sage grimaced. “Gross! What did he eat?”

  Maxine and Nate joined them, and Alora wanted to chuckle at the relief written all over his handsome face.

  “You can blame that mess on Evette. I keep telling her that moose shouldn’t eat table scraps. It’s terrible for their digestion,” Maxine said.

  The smell wafted up to nose-level, and Shelly Ann narrowed her eyes. “Alora, honey, I’m sorry, but she’s your aunt. If she’s not around to clean it up, then you need to.”

  Alora’s stomach dropped. “What? No way. Shelly Ann…”

  “Sorry, honey, but it doesn’t matter if my coffee is made from pure gold. No one will buy any with that…” She waved her hand toward the pudding-like mess. “…horror hanging around.”

  Searching her min
d for any and every excuse, Alora reached her hand out. “But, Shelly Ann, I’ve had cancer.”

  The woman stopped and pushed her long braid back over her shoulder. “Are you seriously pulling the cancer card, young lady?”

  A vigorous nod almost made her motion sick. “Hell yes. It’s disgusting.”

  The group looked toward Nate.

  He threw his hands up. “I had cancer too!”

  Alora grinned. She may have just fallen in love with the man right then and there. Grabbing his hand, she gave him a tug. “Let’s go while we have the upper hand.”

  Nate followed close behind as she weaved them in and around craft stands of homemade ceramic lobster platters and home decor made of nautical rope. Deliciosos had a tasting booth, and Dine on the Vine offered a wine tasting right next door.

  She pointed him to one of the high tables. “Go grab us a spot, and I’ll get us wine and cheese.”

  Watching him go, she swallowed down the whistle that wanted to follow. It was embarrassing how easily she let go of their argument on the phone once she was in front of the man, but damn, he was delicious. She’d never admit it to another soul or risk losing her woman card forever. It was hard not to appreciate his playful nature along with the easy way he followed her orders. That kind of character could be fun.

  Her mind wandered into a daydream of the guy with his shirt off and pants undone, but as soon as the idea of her taking her shirt off came to mind, the dream shattered like a dropped wine glass. She pulled her shoulders back, hating the unease that accompanied the thought of anyone seeing her patchwork-doll body naked. It was easy to pretend with clothes on and her makeup done.

  Though it didn’t do anything to decrease her interest in seeing him naked.

  Nate watched her straighten her tiny frame, the expression on her face growing smug as if she were ten feet tall. He could only imagine what was going on in that head of hers. Probably a sign she was going to get her way. So far, she seemed rather adept at it.

  Carrying a tray of meat and cheese with two cutouts that held their wine glasses, she made her way to the table. The woman was on fire with the sun reflecting different degrees of heat off her red curls and the challenging glint in her eye.

  He shifted in his seat. What he wouldn’t give to pull her into his lap and see if he could fire her up some more.

  “I don’t trust that look in your eye,” he said.

  Her laugh was lighter than this morning. A little less guffaw and a little more chuckle. “You shouldn’t. I am definitely a woman with an agenda.”

  Accepting the offered wine, he took a sip, enjoying the heavy feel and deep berry undertones. “Why is being featured so important?”

  She set the tray on the table, then pulled her stool close to him and took a seat. “Because Blayne Astor is generous to a fault, feisty but protective, and deserves the recognition due to her.”

  He sighed. Blayne was great; there was no doubt. At least everything he knew about her said she was. She’d built a life in the States after moving here from Ireland with her American boyfriend and then being abandoned. Too ashamed to return to her family, she created a home and, in the end, found her future with that same boy a decade later. Ballsy or crazy…he wasn’t sure.

  “Look, Blayne is great, but all the organizations that donate are. This event isn’t about showing off who can afford more. It’s about growing awareness about testicular cancer to increase funding for research. I refuse to turn it into a back-patting parade for the rich.”

  Alora popped a wedge of cheese into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. He loved the way her lips curled into a full bow. He almost offered to feature Blayne if he could taste that lower lip of hers but stopped himself just in time.

  “I think you’re looking at this featured spotlight in the wrong way. It isn’t about giving a handjob for a leg up. What Blayne is donating isn’t from the Astor family coffers but from a dedicated percentage of her profits that she purposely budgeted for in order to make a difference. Featuring Eclectic Finds will highlight their social responsibility and potentially open up more opportunities with other community foundations.” She leaned in closer, warming up to her cause. “Her business took a hit when she married James Astor, not because his family isn’t admired or what she offered changed, but because the community now looks at her business—her baby—as a hobby just because the man she married has money.”

  “A lot of money.” Nate grabbed a wedge of brie and held it to her lips.

  She looked at it and frowned, as if concentrating on the conversation in her head, then opened her mouth. As he pulled away, she quickly nipped the end of his fingers, sending a bolt of sensation straight to his dick. He jerked in surprise but then held his abused fingers out to her.

  “That was mean. You need to kiss them.”

  She glanced from his fingers to his face then back. “What the hell.”

  But instead of kissing his fingers, she pushed up from her chair, landing against his chest as her mouth found his. Her full lips felt like fucking heaven, and her taste was the sweetest combination of sex and wine he’d ever experienced. Leaning back, he pulled her onto his lap, encouraging her arms around his neck.

  On a sigh, she dove in deeper, brushing her tongue against his own, small, quiet sounds slipping from between her lips. He couldn’t help but imagine how they’d feel wrapped around him now that he felt them beneath his own.

  God. Damn.

  “Get a room…or not. I do find this so entertaining,” Maxine teased as she and Judge Theodore Carter sat down at the table next to them. As she commented, her grandson, Ryker Van Buren, and his wife, Larkin, joined them with their baby, Max. The look on Ryker’s face reflected full-on pain.

  “Grandmother.” His growl was low and made his sweet baby girl squeal.

  Maxine scoffed. “Even Max agrees. Loosen up, my dear boy.”

  On a giggle, Alora pulled back. “Now will you feature Blayne?”

  “No.” His answer was swift, and when she moved to slide off his lap, he pressed his lips back to hers.

  Her fingers slid into the hair at the base of his neck, sending a shiver through his shoulders, and he pulled her in tighter. “Damn. You taste good.”

  “Now will you?” She spoke against his mouth.

  “Nope.”

  She frowned but didn’t get down. Instead, she shifted on his lap then shifted again. There was no way to stop the boner pressing up against her bottom.

  “What time is it?” Her question left her lips on a quiet breath.

  He glanced at his phone. “Just after five.”

  Looping her hands around his neck, she held his gaze. “I think Maxine has a good point.”

  With a patient stare, he gave her time to expound.

  Then she wiggled her brows, and he had her off his lap and through the crowd before she could speak again. With her apartment just on the other side of the park, they were at the stairs to her place in minutes. He kissed her hard as he walked her backward up the steps. “Fuck. Yes.” He said against her mouth, his voice low and rough.

  “Agreed.”

  They made it through her door and to her room without stepping on even one of her dogs. They made terrible rugs, but the smug looks on their faces said they weren’t considering a move anytime soon. Lifting their heads, they gave him a lazy once-over then stretched back under the glow of the early evening moon.

  She paused for a moment at the end of the bed then fell onto her back on the silk duvet, the rich emerald of the fabric a brilliant contrast to her fire red curls.

  He stood for a moment, just soaking her in. “Are you sure?” Please, God. Be sure. His body yearned for her like his lungs did his next breath. It made no sense, and he was happy to push the nonsense from his mind.

  With outstretched arms, she flexed her fingers, inviting him to her.

  Shedding his coat and his shirt, he slid one knee to the bed and hovered over her while tasting her sweet lips. She was savory, the deep
berry of their wine still lingering on her tongue. He dragged his hands up along her thighs to her waist and dipped them under her sweater, the heated skin of her stomach smooth as silk against his palms. With a nibble along the side of her neck, he pushed her top up and helped pull it over her head.

  The flutter of her hands over her bra made him hesitate. She was sexy as hell, but he could understand the difficulty in sharing her scars with anyone, much less someone new, and even more someone of the opposite sex. Hell, society treated breasts as if they were the entire reason for a woman’s existence. Fuck that.

  In the short time he’d spent with Alora, the whole of her was so apparent. Strong and determined, funny and full of adventure. The only thing she should ever feel self-conscious about was maybe how hungry he was for this moment.

  Wait, what?

  He shoved his wandering thoughts away and pushed back.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  He unsnapped his jeans and pulled down the zipper then shoved them down his legs, taking his boxers with them. With measured trepidation, he straightened, letting his arms hang at his sides. It was the damn most uncomfortable thing he’d done in a long time, but if he wanted to prove she was more than her missing breast, he could show her how he was learning that he was more than his missing testicle.

  While she watched, he donned a condom. Her eyes traveled over his chest and abs, her teeth biting at her lower lip as if eyeing a prime steak.

  Yeah, he let that go straight to his head. Both of them. His dick stretched toward her eagerly.

  Eyes wide, she took him in, and on an exhale, she said, “Whoa.” And there was no mistaking the appreciation in her tone. With a small smile, she slid the straps of her bra from her shoulders then reached behind her back to release the clasp. Holding his gaze, she lowered it, taking the prosthetic with her. Amazed by her courage, he imagined she felt unsure, but she refused to let it stop her.