Jingle Balls: A Holiday Romantic Comedy Anthology

by Dylann Crush

  I shake my head. Why would I give a shit about that?

  Then as soon as Dylan stood to try for the fifth time or so to pour his heart out to Rian and put her up on an even higher pedestal than he already has her on, Evan excuses herself from the table. She winds through all the tables and my eyes slowly follow her until the doors shut behind her.

  I know I’m a shit friend as I stand and drop my napkin on my chair. “Sorry Dylan,” I say, heading toward the exit myself.

  My feet halt on the marble floor, watching her back rise and fall as she stares into the fountain in the grand foyer of the fancy hotel. I shouldn’t care, but I’m more than upset she wouldn’t take my word for who Brock Floyd really is—a drug dealer hiding under the disguise of a privileged rich kid.

  “So after I warned you, you’re still here with him?” I say.

  Her shoulders tense at the announcement of my arrival. She glances over her shoulder. Part of me feels like she expected me to follow her. The way our eyes kept catching across the room had to be dealt with.

  “He says you’re a liar and since you hate me anyway, I’m not sure why you care.” She circles around and being this close to her again throws me off-kilter for a moment.

  “Why would I lie?”

  “Why do you care?” she whisper-shouts.

  “I’m trying to save you from getting involved in something bad. He ruined Trev. He’s the reason he is where he is.”

  “You’re honestly saying Brock Floyd needs to sell drugs? Why? His family is loaded.”

  It’s a fair question. Usually drug dealers aren’t wearing Armani suits and driving around in a BMW, but I don’t pretend to know Brock Floyd’s motives for becoming the biggest dealer in Cliffton Heights, especially since he has his dad’s business to fall back on.

  “You really don’t believe me?”

  She huffs and shoots me the same pleading look she did when we were seven and I didn’t want to steal the pack of gum. But our moms said no. Damn, maybe her moral compass has shifted over the years.

  “You know and you don’t care,” I accuse her.

  She steps back and narrows her eyes. “Excuse me? You’re suggesting I’d date someone who sells drugs?”

  “Well you did want me to steal that pack of fruit stripe gum.”

  She stares blankly. I’ve seen her mom bear the same expression. This isn’t going to go well. “I was six.”

  “Seven,” I correct.

  She throws her hands up and they land back on her long dress that shows off how sexy a girl next door can be. “Fine. Seven. I didn’t understand the ramifications of stealing. And if you really want to bring crap up, let’s talk about when you pushed Timmy out of the tree.”

  “What would that even have to do with this moment? And I was saving your honor, remember?”

  She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “Listen, Seth,” she says, stepping forward. “I get the concern and thank you, but Brock is more than sweet. Sweeter than you’ve been to me in almost two decades. I’m choosing to believe him.”

  “After all—”

  “After all what?” she interrupts. “The years you’ve treated me like shit? I’m supposed to sit back and take your word for it? I’m finally happy with someone and here you come to save the day on your white horse? Which I may add, by you just tugging and pulling and cornering me to whisper bad things about my boyfriend would suggest you care. Do you, Seth?”

  “Do I what?” I step back because she’s so close I can smell her perfume and it’s doing weird things to my body.

  “Do you care? About me?” She points to herself and all I see is the dip in her cleavage.

  I shake my head again because what the fuck? Did she put on some love potion tonight? I’m not attracted to Evan. I hate her.

  “Hell no.”

  She steadies her gaze on me like she expects me to change my mind.

  “Was I not clear?” I ask.

  “Evan?” Brock’s deep voice wraps whatever lust was filling my veins into red hot lava.

  I turn, and sure enough Brock approaches with his hands in his pockets. “Seth Andrews?”

  “Brock Floyd.” I purposely mock his intonation to piss him off.

  Evan slides past me and he puts his arm around her like she’s his property.

  “How am I not surprised to see you sniffing around my girl?” His bleach-blonde hair and cool blue eyes give off the appearance of a Ken Barbie doll when he’s really like the damn Joker underneath.

  “Evan and I go way back,” I say.

  “From what I heard, you guys haven’t been friends for a long time.”

  He’s right, and I can’t refute that.

  “Listen.” He steps forward, leaving Evan behind like we’re on the set of some old movie where the woman hides behind the man. What the hell is Evan thinking right now? She’s way too independent and strong to be with a man like Brock. He touches my lapels and I step back, causing his hands to fall to his sides. He slides them into the pockets of his slacks and rocks back on his loafers like he doesn’t care. He leans in close and lowers his voice.

  “Why don’t we just stay on separate sides of town? You know, you stay on yours and I’ll stay up on the hill overlooking all the slum under me.”

  What would he do if Evan heard that? She’s from my part of town too and so is her family.

  “You’re such a fucking prick. One day I’ll get the satisfaction of watching you be arrested for what you’ve done.”

  He chuckles. It’s a cocky laugh and then he falls back to Evan, putting his arm around her waist so his hand molds to her hip. “Oh, that’s right, I heard you told Evan I sell drugs. Trevor was my friend, Seth. We were like brothers. I’m sorry about what happened to him. I tried to help him too. He was a great guy.”

  “Is a great guy,” I correct.

  He nods, faking concern once more. “Didn’t I say that?”

  Evan’s eyes speak volumes, they always have, and I see the sorrow in them. Regardless if Brock was involved or not, she’s still upset about what’s happened to Trevor. Of course, I always sensed she had a crush on him like so many of the other girls did.

  “Whatever, I have to get back in. Good luck, you two.” I smack on a smile. “You make a great couple. Are those wedding bells I hear?”

  Not waiting for an answer, I breeze by them, deliberately close to Evan.

  Everyone’s at the table when I return, and Dylan’s eyes light up when he spots me.

  Jolie is on Frankie’s lap devouring a cake ball. Jax is on his phone. Sierra hasn’t left Adrian’s lap, even though there’s an empty chair now. Ethan and Bianca are lost in each other and Dylan stands as I sit in my spot and down my drink.

  “You good?” Frankie asks me. Jolie looks at me with purple and silver all around her mouth.

  “Peachy,” I say.

  “Can I finally keep you all here?” Dylan’s voice is pleading, and we all laugh. Which annoys him more.

  The band announces the dance floor is ready for dancing and we don’t hear anything that Dylan says as he begins to speak and then stops. He rolls his eyes and sits.

  Blanca leans forward and touches his arm asking something and he nods in defeat.

  She grabs Ethan and the two of them head to the dance floor.

  As I watch Ethan wrap Blanca in his arms, my gut churns catching Brock doing the same to Evan. I stand, not bothering to tuck in my chair and head straight to the bar.

  6

  Blanca

  Ethan’s hands wrap around my waist and I reach to extend my arms around his neck.

  “Do you think we should take dance lessons for the wedding?”

  He circles me around as though that’s his answer.

  “Ethan?”

  He blows out a breath. “I feel like I’m never going to marry you,” he says.

  I shoot him my sweet look to say, ‘of course you are.’ But he’s right. The wedding keeps getting pushed around and I’m semi at fault for that. My fa
mily is big, and we went from a small ceremony to inviting family from Italy. It’s a lot since Ethan comes from a smaller family. But coordinating dates with overseas guests isn’t easy.

  “We have the date. You’re going to be my husband,” I say.

  “I’ll believe it when we walk down the aisle.”

  The disconnect between us is coming to a breaking point. Part of me wonders if we’ll make it all the way to the altar.

  “You know I love you,” I whisper.

  He presses his lips to my forehead. “I love you, too. This day is starting to drain me, and I don’t want that for our wedding day. I want to be excited about waiting for you at the end of the long aisle of your very big Catholic church.” He laughs. Thankfully, that wasn’t a deal-breaker. Mama needed a big Catholic wedding. I’m doing it more for her than me.

  “And that will happen.”

  “Not if the flowers aren’t right or the ushers seat someone wrong or… there’re a million things that could go terribly wrong and it will fuck up our entire day.”

  I stop dancing momentarily. “What are you really saying here?”

  He shakes his head. “Nothing. I’m just stressed. What with the blog and the wedding, I feel like we’ve lost something. All we talk about is business or who is going to sit where or what flowers we should use. Thankfully Rian’s doing our cake. It’s the one thing we never talk about.”

  I hug him close, not knowing how to get us out of this funk. To put that excitement back into our relationship that was always there before we started planning the wedding.

  Then it dawns on me.

  “Come on.” I pull him from the dance floor.

  “What? I was finally enjoying having you all to myself.”

  I ignore him and guide us away from our table. Once we’re out of the ballroom, I point to a chair. “You sit there.”

  “What’s going on?” He’s on his last thread and I don’t blame him. I should’ve seen the signs earlier.

  “Just wait here. Give me about ten minutes.”

  “Ten minutes?”

  “I promise it’s worth it.”

  “Fine.” He blows out a breath and leans back in the leather chair.

  I steadily walk back into the ballroom and grab my purse from the table.

  “Where are you going?” Dylan asks.

  “Just to the bathroom. Woman issues,” I say, and Dylan waves me off.

  But as I exit the ballroom, I head away from where I left Ethan and go to the front desk, ready to beg and plead for any room they have available.

  A beautiful brunette looks up from typing on the computer in front of her. “How can I help you?”

  I dig my credit card out of my purse. “I need any room you have,” I say.

  She slides it back my way. “Sorry, we’re booked solid.”

  “Nothing? Not even a dinky room you leave as a last resort?”

  Her gaze stays on me with an expression to say I’m not the most brilliant crayon in the pack.

  “We do not have anything dinky in here.” Her European accent comes out thicker than when I first approached.

  “You know what I mean. I’m desperate.”

  Her arm extends. “May I suggest the Motel Six? Their vacancy sign is probably lit up in neon tonight.”

  I raise my hand. “No need to be snarky.”

  “Snarky?” she asks like she doesn’t know the word.

  “Impolite.” I use another word for her.

  “You can imagine, I’m sure, how many people from the gala you are attending are staying here tonight. I do not mean to be rude, but you can’t honestly think a hotel like this would have a room at this late hour?”

  I shake my head and grab my credit card, leaving her behind.

  Plan B. Let’s see. I think of where else I can take Ethan to show him our spark hasn’t died. We’re not even married yet, he cannot think he’s marrying a boring woman.

  Train sex? Cab sex? Not to be a buzzkill, I’m not up for getting ticketed for public indecency. Pulling out my phone, I search the app to find a hotel room somewhere nearby.

  Five minutes later I’ve paid, and I’m all set. It’s not the entire surprise I wanted, but as I’m walking back to Ethan, I duck into the gift shop. A woman who works there offers to help me. She doesn’t look like she’d ever entertain the idea of wearing sexy lingerie but she’s very helpful to grab for me what they don’t keep on the showroom floor. I guess I understand the discreetness of not wanting that in the main shop.

  By the time I get back to Ethan, his head is tipped back and he’s asleep.

  What the hell is wrong with us?

  I sit on his lap to coax him awake with a kiss to his cheek.

  His eyes blink open. “Let’s call it a night. I’m beat.”

  “Sorry, no can do. I’ve made other arrangements.”

  “What?” The slight whine of his voice says he wants to go home and go to bed.

  But not tonight.

  “Come on. It’s a surprise, but I’ll give you a glimpse.” I open up the bag and his fingers pull out the barely-there thong the woman gave me.

  He taps my ass. “Let’s get a room.”

  I stand and pull him up by his hand. “Tried that to no avail, but I do have a room at another hotel. How about a stroll through the city first?”

  “With you?” He puts his arm around my shoulders. “Anytime.”

  We walk out the doors of the hotel onto the streets of Manhattan. But he ducks into a small alcove of a store that’s closed for the night. With my back pressed to the window, he gives me a kiss that makes my knees almost give out.

  “Now let’s get to that hotel,” he says, resting his forehead on mine.

  “Come on. We’re booking a late checkout and we won’t be making any Sunday dinners.”

  He kisses me one more time. “Sometimes I wonder how I got so lucky.”

  “You must have done something right.” I push my finger against his chest. “Now, time is ticking and I’m feeling very overdressed.”

  “As your soon-to-be husband, I feel the need to rectify that situation immediately.”

  We laugh and walk the two blocks down hand in hand. We check into our room and when the door shuts, the do not disturb sign is set prominently on display.

  7

  Dylan

  I’m going to go buy duct tape and strap each one of my friends to their chair. All I want is to give my future wife a toast on how awesome she is.

  Speaking of which, she leans over to me and her hand lands on my thigh. “Can I have a dance?”

  Shit. What a failure I am. I slide out of my chair and hold my hand out to her. “Will you dance with me?”

  She smiles like it wasn’t her suggestion because she lets me get away with way too much shit. I squeeze her hand as I lead her to the dance floor where a slow song is playing. Her cake ball tier is now gone except for a few lonely balls like single men in a bar at the end of ladies’ night.

  I hold Rian close to me and I’m not by any means a great dancer. I’m more than a side step guy but I’m not a twirling, light on my feet guy either. I could manage a dip if I really had to. Lucky for me, we haven’t been to a lot of these events. I’m not exactly comfortable, in all honesty.

  I may be a successful business owner, but that’s small crap compared to these million dollar company owners. Hell, the Floyds are here, and they own half of Cliffton Heights.

  As always when Rian is with me, in my arms especially, none of that enters my mind. All the doubts about who I am and where I came from evaporate because she doesn’t see a poor foster kid, she sees a man she loves and for some reason that makes me think better of myself.

  She lays her head on my chest as her arms hang over my shoulders and mine wrap around her waist. “I’m so proud of you,” I say for the millionth time.

  She rests her chin on my chest and gives me one of those smiles that make me feel like the luckiest bastard alive. “I know. But I’d never be here without
you.”

  “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

  She’s already shaking her head before I finish my sentence. “No. I’d be writing math problems right now.”

  I’m not going to argue with her.

  “I’m going to let the topic go,” I say. “You want to beat Ethan and Blanca to the altar?”

  She playfully slaps my chest.

  “How long are we really expected to wait? They’ve been engaged for forever.” I circle us and Rian’s face suggests my dance moves impress her, and that’s all that really matters.

  “It’s coming. They just have to finalize a few things.”

  “A few things? Like the entire wedding. All I want is you and our friends and if I’m completely honest, I’d rather have just you.”

  “You want to elope?” she asks.

  “Yeah. Me and you on a beach and then we can spend the rest of our honeymoon naked.”

  She takes a moment and looks up at me. “I’m not completely opposed, but we do have my parents to consider.”

  Oh yeah, I don’t always remember the parents since I don’t have any. But Rian’s parents already aren’t very fond of me. If I steal their only daughter away to get married without them being part of it, I’ll never be in their good graces.

  My gaze falls to the table with our friends.

  Ethan and Blanca haven’t returned. Sierra and Adrian are picking up their things and hugging goodbye. Seth is drinking with Knox like they’re at a college kegger and Jax is leaning back in his chair, his eyes closed with Jolie fast asleep on his chest.

  A pang of jealousy hits me hard and fast in the gut. I twirl Rian around so she can see. “I want that,” I say.

  “What? I think Sierra’s confused, the table arrangements aren’t supposed to be taken home like at weddings.”

  “No. Jax. I want that.”

  It takes her a moment, but her feet stop moving and she stares up at me. “Speak to me like I’m five,” she says.

  I chuckle because I’ve thrown her, which I love to do but doesn’t happen often.