by Dylann Crush
“You like her. You really like her.”
“Mom,” he groaned.
“Don’t mom me, Nate. You’re scared. She’s someone you could actually see a future with. That scares you.” She grabbed his hands, and he felt ridiculous. “Honey, this is amazing. Grandchildren? Oh!”
He tried to tug his hands back, mortified. God, if Alora heard any of this, she’d run in a heartbeat, and he wouldn’t blame her. “Mom. Stop. This isn’t, I mean, we’ve only just met.”
She waved his words away. “I know that. But do you? You’ve met someone who is interesting. Someone you could see a future with even without really thinking about it. That’s powerful. Don’t miss this chance out of fear. You aren’t doing all this work with the testicular cancer nonprofit for nothing. Who knows, by the time you do have children, there might be interventions. You caught yours early, and if, God forbid, one of your children got it, they would too. You’ll make sure of it.” She pulled him up from the bench, his bowtie in hand.
As she tied it, she continued. “This all means something. Make it mean something good, Nate. Don’t lose out because of fear. That’s not how you were raised. And you know what? I’ll be there with you if you need me.”
He wrapped his arms around her, careful not to mess up her hair as she rested her head against his chest. “I can hear your heartbeat,” she whispered. “You’re my miracle. Don’t lose out on your own.”
Alora squeezed Sage’s hand.
“Are you ready?” Her friend asked. She didn’t ask if she’d changed her mind or if she was sure, just was she ready. Alora appreciated that more than Sage would ever know.
With a deep breath, she pulled her shoulders back, noticing the crystals stuck to her bare chest in a snowflake design reflecting the soft light.
“You look stunning.” Sage smiled. “You might just start a new trend.”
Alora laughed. It felt good and sounded less nervous than she’d expected. “Wouldn’t Judge Carter just love that?”
“Maxine would be the first to adopt it just to harass him.”
Giggling at the thought, Alora moved them down the hall. “Time to find Nate.”
They entered the hall, and Alora’s heart soared at the beauty that had been accomplished that afternoon. Everything looked perfect, from the soft lights and billowy sheers above to the decorated trees and tables below. It was a sophisticated winter wonderland. “Wow.”
“We all really outdid ourselves, didn’t we?” Sage said, her eyes wide with appreciation.
They walked through the crowd, and Alora noted a few lingering stares, eyebrows raising, and conversations seizing. Instead of it making her embarrassed, she stood straighter, prouder. The general public needed to see that cancers stole from people. If it wasn’t a life, then it was a breast or a testicle or self-confidence or self-worth. The journey wasn’t always a hero’s story though that’s what people wanted to see.
Behind closed doors, there were tears and anger and pain. But too much of that in public made people turn away instead of lean in. Others had only so much empathy before the discomfort of suffering began to desensitize them and drain their joy. So they quit looking, quit asking.
But if a patient appeared strong and put on a smile, they were warriors. It was hard and frustrating and unfair.
But tonight, she’d be both. She’d show her smile, show her strength and her pain…for Nate.
“Alora, you’re stunning.” Larkin Van Buren stopped her and Sage as they made their way through. Maxine was at her side.
“Oh!” The woman slapped her hands together on an indrawn breath. “Absolute perfection.” She winked at Alora. “This might catch on. Wouldn’t that be wicked perfect?”
Larkin grinned but held Alora’s gaze. “I think it’s the perfect statement.”
“Alora?” Nate’s deep voice sounded from behind her, and her heart skipped a beat. She slowly turned around.
His eyes devoured her with such intensity that she was surprised she could keep standing.
“You were right, Nate. I was being a hypocrite.”
“No, please—” He grabbed her hand.
“But I was. The thing I said was just ignorant and insensitive, and I’m sorry. But you were right. I’ve held you accountable for being comfortable with yourself as I’ve twisted inside out to accommodate that prosthetic so I wouldn’t feel embarrassed or ashamed. I understand why women do it. Why some go for reconstruction as soon as they can. But now you’ve helped me see that whether I do or I don’t, I’m still me. I’m still strong and worthy and wanted.”
He glided his fingers over the skin of her chest, tracing each crystal along the snowflake shape.
“Get a room.” Parker ribbed from the sidelines, making Alora giggle.
Nate ignored his friend and the growing audience. “You’re the most courageous and beautiful woman I’ve ever met. I’m sorry I was such an ass. I got scared.”
Alora froze. “Scared?” What did he mean by scared? Did he not care for her after all? Had he reconsidered dating a woman with only one breast? As the thoughts immediately took shape, she stopped herself. No. No more self-deprecating talk. She was done.
With a wolfish grin, he looked her up and down. It was desire and admiration that shone back at her. “I can’t believe you did this for me. There’s something special about you that I want to experience for a very long time. I haven’t ever felt that way, and it made me have visions about a future…children.”
Her eyes shot wide, her heart slamming in her chest.
Grabbing her arms, he said, “Don’t freak out.” He laughed. “They’re just thoughts, but they made me afraid because I can’t stand the idea of having a child of mine go through any of the fear or hardships that we have.”
Her heart melted right then and there. Every fear, every uncertainty seemed ridiculous and trite. This beautiful, passionate man worried about children they didn’t even have. Something blossomed in her heart in a way that she’d never felt before. “Nate?” The pained look on his handsome face made her smile. “I like you too.”
He dropped his chin to his chest with a groan. “This is so—”
“Perfect? You’re right,” Claire interrupted. “Because as the two of you have been oversharing, donations have skyrocketed through the town hall ceiling beams. This is the highest-grossing event I’ve ever seen, and it’s not over yet.”
Nate pulled Alora to his side, sending her a look full of promises she couldn’t wait for him to follow through on. He whispered in her ear, “When we’re alone later, leave the crystals on.”
“So you forgive me?” she asked. “I am sorry.”
He adjusted his stance and moved them into a slow sway as The Christmas Song began to play. Their crowd of spectators eased back into their own dances and conversations, leaving the two of them a bit of privacy. “I’m sorry too. I was being a coward, but you’ve shown me how to be brave.”
He brushed his lips along her jaw, leaving a trail of goosebumps to spread out along her cheek and down her neck. “I have? Then does this mean you owe me?” she asked with a cheeky smirk. “Because I think I deserve another round under the Christmas tree tonight.”
His fingers flexed into her hips, and she reveled in the knowledge that he wanted her. “When’s this thing over because you really, really do.”
“So, we’re going to give this a try?” she asked, a whisper of fear in the question.
“There’s nothing I want more than to be with you.” And he proved it with a kiss so deep and thorough she felt it to her toes and back. Christmas music would never be the same.
The clearing of a throat interrupted the kiss, and for a split second, Alora wanted to punch someone.
The server had the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry for the interruption, but we’re handing out these bells for everyone to ring once we reach one hundred thousand.”
Nate’s jaw dropped. “A hundred thousand!”
He pressed one more hard, hot kiss
to Alora’s lips. It meant so much to her to be a part of such a special night for him. He’d worked hard to help this organization that meant so much to him and now meant so much to her. She had a second chance at life and love, and so did he. The hard work done to keep awareness and research alive was the reason. Her heart squeezed with a growing love for this man, and she stole a look at his chiseled features.
The future wasn’t promised to her, but she sure as shit was going to fight for the one she wanted.
The server presented a tray filled with little bells shaped like Christmas tree ornaments and asked, “One jingle or two?”
Exchanging a conspiratorial wink, Alora and Nate held each other tighter and answered in unison. “One!”
Also By MK Meredith
Continue your emotional ride on heated sheets...
Cape Van Buren
On the Cape Novels
To love, honor, and cherish…happily ever after.
Love on the Cape
Honor on the Cape
Cherish on the Cape
Cape Van Buren Novellas
Draw You In
One Jingle or Two
International Temptation
Seducing the Italian Tycoon
Playing the Spanish Billionaire
Scripted for Love
Love Under the Hot Lights
Just a Little Camera Shy
A Heated Touch of Action
Seattle Crush
Seducing Seven
About MK Meredith
#1 bestselling author MK Meredith promises an emotional ride on heated sheets. Keep turning the pages through all her connected series: Cape Van Buren, Scripted for Love, Seattle Crush, and International Temptation. Living with her husband, two kiddos, and one fur baby outside of Washington D.C. this two-time breast cancer survivor is working on her very own happy ever after.
Website - https://mkmeredith.com/
Part XIII
Rockin’ Around the Jingle Balls Ball
Susannah Nix
About… Rockin’ Around the Jingle Balls Ball
After she’s jilted at the Jingle Balls ball, Gen hits it off with a mysterious stranger. But what she intends as a casual hookup leaves her inexplicably wanting more. Will she ever find her Prince Charming again, or is he lost to her forever?
1
“Tell me you like dressing up in fancy clothes.”
Genevieve dragged her attention away from the code she was debugging and swiveled her chair toward her coworker-slash-friend Melody, who stood beside Gen’s cubicle. “Is this a sex thing? Because I’m not interested in a throuple with you and your fiancé.”
Melody rolled her eyes behind her tortoiseshell glasses. “It’s a charity thing. Jeremy’s family bought a bunch of extra tickets to this Jingle Balls ball next month, and I’m supposed to give some of them away.”
“A ball, huh? Might be fun.” Gen picked up her favorite coffee mug—the one that said It’s not a bug it’s an undocumented feature—tried to take a sip, and promptly spilled coffee on her tits. “Frakking hell.”
Her rack wasn’t even that big, but it was like a magnet for food and beverages. No matter how careful she was, her breasts managed to interject themselves between her mouth and whatever she was trying to consume. It was like a superpower—a shitty and annoying superpower that was absolutely no use for fighting crime.
“Do you need my Tide pen?” Melody asked.
“No, I’ve got one.” Gen opened her desk drawer and grabbed one of the many Tide pens she kept stashed there.
Melody watched as Gen dabbed at the coffee stain on her shirt. “So do you want to go to this ball thing?”
“Are you going to be there?” Gen asked, squinting down at her chest.
“Jeremy’s presence is required, so we’ll both be there with bells on. Not literally. That would be annoying.”
Melody’s fiancé came from a super-rich family that happened to have founded the company that employed both Gen and Melody. It had been a little weird for Gen getting used to the idea that her work friend two cubicles over was marrying the CEO’s son. But she’d found Jeremy to be shockingly likable for someone who worked on the executive floor and called the company’s terrifying CEO “Mom.”
“Did I get it all?” Gen smoothed her shirt over her chest and looked up at Melody.
“Yep.”
Gen dropped the Tide pen back in the drawer. “I suppose I could go. Why not? Might be fun.” She did have an evening gown gathering dust in her closet that she adored but hadn’t had occasion to wear much. Might be fun to play dress-up for a night and take it out for a spin.
“Cool. Here are two tickets.” Melody laid them on Gen’s desk. They were printed in shiny gold ink on thick paper.
Gen leaned in for a closer look and her eyebrows lifted in amusement. “Hang on…it’s a ball to support testicular cancer awareness? A ball for balls?”
“Yep. It’s formal, so bring a date who looks good in a suit.”
“You know I’m going to have to make ball jokes all night long, right?”
Melody threw a grin over her shoulder as she headed back to her own cubicle. “I’d expect nothing less.”
The date thing presented a minor problem.
Gen was currently a free agent. Ever since her last serious relationship had fizzled two years ago, she’d enjoyed playing the field. At the moment, she had two no-strings guys in regular rotation and two others she’d been messaging who might have future hookup potential.
But were any of them the kind of men you could bring to a swanky charity event?
There was Micah, the man-bunned “fruitarian” who cleaned pools for a living and harbored dreams of becoming a professional snowboarder. He could go down for hours and liked to play the guitar naked after sex, but he didn’t even own a fitted sheet for the air mattress he slept on, so the odds of him owning a tie—much less a suit—were astronomically small.
Gen’s other regular hookup was an even worse option. Trent was an avowed libertarian who believed Stanley Kubrick shot the moon landing. Despite that, he had some kind of magic dick and had legit made her come so hard she’d had an out of body experience. But also, his YouTube history was full of videos about buying and burying gold, and he was really fucking insufferable if you actually had to talk to him for more than five minutes. Trent was a hard pass.
That left the two guys she’d been messaging but had yet to meet up with. But could she ask someone to a fancy shindig for their first in-person meet? Seemed a bit weird, but what other choice did she have?
She mulled over the two profiles in her dating app. Derek’s photo was your standard-issue shirtless bathroom selfie. He was a personal trainer with six-pack abs and a dog named Max. Hunter, on the other hand, sold insurance and enjoyed hiking and brewing his own beer. His profile photo showed him posing on top of a mountain or hill or something, wearing clunky trek shoes and outdoor shorts that exposed his skinny legs.
Gen detested the outdoors as much as she detested the gym. Still, both of them seemed nice enough and hadn’t otherwise raised any red flags in their text chats.
She looked at Hunter’s birdlike calves and tried to envision him in a suit. Then she swiped back to Derek’s profile and contemplated his lovely, glistening abs.
It was a no-brainer, really.
2
As luck would have it, Derek the personal trainer owned a suit. He agreed to be her date for the Jingle Balls ball once she mentioned the open bar. Gen proposed they meet in the lobby of the hotel where the event was being held. That way she could make a graceful escape if things didn’t work out between them.
Derek had a slammin’ bod all right…and a nose like a root vegetable. It wasn’t just crooked, it was lumpy. And his eyes were too small for his big, round head. She could barely see them behind his huge apple cheeks. Then there was the matter of his chin dimple, which was so big you could park a Nissan in it. His face had been partially obscured by his phone in his prof
ile photo, so Gen hadn’t properly appreciated the size of his chin dimple or the asymmetrical nature of his nose before now.
But that body…
He did look super tasty in a suit. Which was what mattered. It wasn’t like she was shopping for a soul mate. She just needed some arm candy for the evening.
They spent their first half hour together making strained conversation over their free drinks. Derek really liked to talk about his workout PRs. A lot. Which she’d expected from a gym rat, but it was hard not to fixate on his ass chin when he was droning on about how many muscle-ups he could do.
When he invited her to go outside with him to blaze up, she politely declined, relieved to have a brief respite from looking at his face. Not a great sign.
Gen snagged a crab puff off the tray of a passing server and gazed around the ballroom. Having spent her childhood in Colorado, she found Christmas in LA underwhelming. How were you supposed to get in the holiday spirit surrounded by palm trees while the temps hovered in the fifties and sixties?
Nonetheless, the organizers had made a gallant effort to festive up the ball. Drifts of iridescent confetti covered every surface, sparkling as it reflected the thousands of fairy lights hanging from the ceiling. A large garland-draped sleigh had been set up in one corner for people to take photos in, and extravagant ice sculptures graced the four corners of the room.
Gen heard someone call her name and turned to find Melody coming toward her through the crowd of ball-goers.
“There you are!” Gen said, giving her friend a hug. “I was starting to wonder if you were really here.”
Melody let out a long-suffering sigh. “I’ve been trapped in conversation with the most unbearable venture capitalist you ever met.”
