Jingle Balls: A Holiday Romantic Comedy Anthology

by Dylann Crush

  6

  Stefan

  Dancing with Lucy Maclaren-like-the-car on the pavement outside Walker Hall had not been on Stefan’s bingo card tonight, yet here they were. He was humming “It Had to Be You,” which was the only song he could think of, and they were swaying in the glow of the streetlight. It was way more satisfying than it should be, even though Lucy was a pretty terrible dancer. But there was something about her in his arms that brought out Stefan’s caveman instincts. An unattractive quality, but he wanted to protect her. From what, he had no idea. She didn’t seem like the type of woman who’d need protection, let alone want it.

  She seemed genuine, and maybe that was worse.

  He pulled her closer until her breasts were pressed against his chest, and though she didn’t pull away, he murmured, “Are you okay with this?”

  “With what?” Lucy turned her head to look up at him.

  The faint streetlight behind her head looked like a halo and Stefan tilted her chin up a bit further so he could see her eyes as he said, “Are you okay with the fact that I find you attractive?”

  Stefan knew what he was doing, but for the first time in a very long time, he didn’t know what the answer would be. It was both thrilling and terrifying and made his pulse sprint in his chest.

  Lucy’s eyes widened and she laughed softly. “I’m flattered, I think. But trust me when I say I am not your type.”

  “How do you know?” Stefan furrowed his brow. Out of all the responses he was expecting, this one wasn’t even on the list.

  “Oh, come on. You know it, too.” Lucy grinned up at him. “What happened to our dance music?”

  “If I’m providing our dance music, I can’t whisper sweet nothings in your ear.”

  “If you’re not providing our dance music, we’re not dancing and I’m going to have to go.”

  Stefan started humming again because he wasn’t sure she wouldn’t do it. Maybe this was her way of letting him down easy, which was a lot nicer than some of the ways he’d been let down in the past. But just as he was mentally moving her to the uninterested/do-not-pursue column, she stepped closer and her fingernails started tracing a pattern on his shoulder, grazing the nape of his neck. It was nothing – less than nothing – but all of his nerve endings seemed to concentrate in that one spot until he was aching for Lucy to tug on his hair. Hard.

  They swayed together for a little longer and Stefan was about to kiss Lucy’s temple –because he wanted to kiss her and he didn’t really care where – when a phone jangled from somewhere. Stefan leaped back and felt his blazer pocket, but he didn’t have his phone tonight. He’d left it on charge back at Jane’s.

  Lucy, though, fished her phone out of a pocket in her coat and shot him an apologetic look as she answered. He listened to the one-sided conversation and straightened as she said, “No, of course. I’m glad you called. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  She hung up and, slipping the phone back into her coat, said, “I have to go, unfortunately.”

  “Can I take you somewhere? Is everything okay?” Stefan’s response was pure instinct, but he was good in a crisis.

  “No, honestly. I’m fine. There’s just something I need to help with.” Lucy bit her lip. “Sorry.”

  “Please don’t be sorry, but are you sure I can’t so something? I can be quite helpful, you know.” Stefan gave what he hoped was a self-deprecating smile. “Maybe not if there’s a cow in labor or something, but otherwise.”

  “Thank you. Really. I’m fine.” Lucy’s voice turned firm. “Maybe I’ll see you around if Your Friendly Local ends up here.”

  That was it? She was just going to leave? He couldn’t let her do that. It was dark and late, and it wouldn’t be right to let her go off alone. Christ, talk about caveman instincts.

  “I really am happy to take you wherever you need to go.” Stefan offered again. “Should you be driving with your ankle?”

  “My ankle feels a lot better, actually, and I haven’t been drinking, so it’s all good.” Lucy placed a hand on his arm and stood on her tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek.

  But Stefan turned his face and her lips grazed his accidentally. It was hardly any contact, but then Lucy’s fingernails dug into his arm and she pressed her lips to his, which was no accident. Stefan responded instantly, snaking an arm around her waist and burying a hand in her hair. Lucy wound an arm up around his neck, but kept her hand on his forearm, gripping him even tighter. As if she couldn’t let go.

  Stefan didn’t want her to.

  Her tongue swept over his lips and it was all he could do not to devour her on the spot. His dick certainly didn’t object and it required some kind of superhuman strength not to grind against her right there. He’d gone from zero to turned on in the space of twelve seconds, but even though Lucy let loose a moan from the back of her throat, she kept her mouth partly closed and her tongue flicking playfully instead of plundering and tangling with his. It was driving him insane.

  Until it wasn’t.

  Lucy yanked herself away, her eyes wide and lips swollen. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, like she wasn’t sure what to say. But judging by the way her breath came in short hard gasps and her eyes raked over him so thoroughly he felt like he could just as well be standing there naked, she was feeling everything Stefan was. Maybe more.

  So the fact that she turned and almost ran – her dodgy ankle was either a million times better or it hadn’t been as bad as he thought in the first place – froze him to the spot.

  “Was it something I said?” Stefan called after her. It came out flippant and rude, but that was better than needy and confused.

  Lucy waved a hand above her head but didn’t turn around, and Stefan shook his head in frustration. What the hell had just happened? Yes, he and Lucy had a spark, but Stefan didn’t chase anyone. Especially not when they were physically running away from him. That was probably an all-time low, come to think of it.

  He turned towards Eleanor Walker’s front door to go back to the ball. Maybe he could find Lee or Jane and see if they were ready to go. Or he could snag a set of keys and take off by himself. An hour in bed surfing his phone sounded like the kind of mindless entertainment he needed right now to take his mind off Lucy and the weirdness of tonight.

  He breathed a sigh of relief as he walked in the door and straight into Lee and Jane. Thank God. If he was lucky, he’d be out of here before “American Pie” hit the refrain. He opened his mouth to speak, but Lee beat him to it, saying, “Smart move spending time with Lucy Maclaren.”

  “Smart?” It felt just the opposite to Stefan. “Why?”

  “Well, she must have an opinion about the Fat Rabbit?” Lee asked.

  “Sort of?” She definitely had an opinion, but Stefan didn’t think it was the kind of opinion Lee or Jane would want to hear. “Nothing worth mentioning.”

  “That’s surprising,” said Jane. “She owns the Blue Dog, you know.”

  Bloody hell. The bile rose so fast in Stefan’s stomach, he felt nauseous. Of course he didn’t know Lucy owned the Blue Dog, but suddenly everything about this evening made a lot more sense. He arranged his face into what he hoped was a bland expression and said, “Huh. Interesting.”

  “Interesting, indeed.” Lee clapped him on the shoulder. “I hope it’s not going to turn into a conflict of interest for you, mate.”

  For the briefest second, the feel of Lucy’s lips on his flashed through his memory, but Stefan shook it away and said, “Nope. No conflict of interest of here. Does that mean we’re doing this thing then?”

  “It means we’re doing this thing,” Lee said. He continued talking and Stefan nodded at what he hoped were all the right places. Work would start in January, but Stefan probably wouldn’t have to come up until February. Jane had an in with a local contractor who could help them source materials. The council was already primed to approve planning permission.

  Stefan heard every word, but he already knew he wouldn’t re
member any of it. All he knew was that Your Friendly Local was coming to Ash Wycombe, home of shitty train connections and the dearth of food delivery – and one of the most captivating women Stefan had met in years.

  If he were lucky, he’d never see her again. If he was smart, he wouldn’t want to.

  Also by Brenda St John Brown

  The Blind Date Diaries

  The Castle Calder series

  Happy New You

  About Brenda St John Brown

  Brenda is a displaced New Yorker living in the English countryside. She’s lived in the UK long enough to gain dual citizenship, but still doesn’t understand Celsius. However, she has learned the appropriate use of the word “pants”. And how to order a proper bacon bap/barm/buttie. Because, well, bacon.

  Brenda writes contemporary romance to make you giggle and swoon. When she’s not writing, she enjoys hiking, running and reading. In theory, she also enjoys cooking, but it’s more that she enjoys eating and, try as she might, she can’t live on Doritos alone.

  Find out more about Lucy and Stefan’s upcoming story, RIVAL HEARTS, here!

  Join Brenda’s Book Babes

  Get Brenda’s Newsletter

  Part XIX

  Scoring a Holiday Match

  By Delancey Stewart

  About… Scoring a Holiday Match

  Rose Gonzalez is CEO of her own company and one-hundred percent fine without a man in her life. But her friend Tallulah—who is now running the popular Mr. Match website—sees it differently.

  Rose agrees to meet the man the site has selected for her at the Jingle Balls Ball, mostly because the crab boat captain she’s being set up with could not possibly be her match. (Even if he does look like a hot seafaring lumberjack.)

  Can one night of magic convince Rose that she’s met her match? And will her hero’s devotion to crabs get in the way?

  Find out in SCORING A HOLIDAY MATCH - part of Delancey Stewart’s hilarious Mr. Match Series!

  1

  ROSE

  Nothing Says “Festive” Like Crabs

  “Crabs, you say? Lu, that’s gonna be a hard pass for me.”

  “Okay, I did say crabs. But let me give you some context.”

  I sighed, settling into the deeply comfortable and very expensive office chair behind my desk. “Go on. Tell me about the man with crabs.”

  You could almost hear Tallulah gearing up for her hard sell on the other end of the line. She’d recently gotten involved with Mr. Match—the website every unmatched single person in the country was talking about, at least if they were trying to become un-single. I might have dropped a profile into the system six months or so ago, but I’d still heard nothing. Until now.

  “So, he’s from Alaska, right? And OMG, Rose, this guy’s photo. He’s all mountain man and seafaring and lumberjacky with the beard and the flannel.”

  I sighed. “I don’t really see myself with a seafaring lumberjack. That’s probably why the system didn’t match us in the first place. Because we’re not a match. And what did you say about the crab thing?”

  “Right, he captains a crab fishing boat.”

  “Like Deadliest Catch?”

  “Exactly like that.” Lu added a squeal at the end of this, as if crab fishing was just that exciting.

  I was actually guilty of binge-watching that particular show, though I couldn’t have told you why. The guys did look tough, but a lot of them also looked like hard-living, low-level criminals. “I don’t think it would work out.”

  “You haven’t even met him yet. And the system almost did match you! As Ms. Match, it’s my job to quality check the matches we offer, and I just didn’t happen to agree with yours when it popped.”

  “Wait, that stupid computer finally found an actual match for me?”

  “Yes, but it was wrong.”

  I stood up. I had been pretending not to care much, acting as if seeing every single one of my friends get engaged, married, or at least sexed up on the regular didn’t bother me, but after thirty years of singlehood, I was ready. “How about I get to meet my actual match, and then if that doesn’t work out, we’ll try your runner up?”

  “He wasn’t actually the runner up either.”

  “How far down the list did the crab man fall?”

  “Sixth.” Lu sounded sad when she said this.

  “Why are you so dead set on me meeting this guy? Why not my actual match?” I paced around the front of my desk, staring out at the harbor beyond my office windows.

  “I have a feeling,” she said. “And I’m testing a theory.”

  “So, I’m a guinea pig.”

  “Look, can you just meet him? I’ve already set it all up for you. You just have to show up. In a cocktail dress, okay?”

  “That’s kinda fancy for a first date. Can’t we just do coffee?”

  “No. It’s a ball.”

  I sighed, hanging my head. Tallulah and I had been friends for a long time, but sometimes she was just . . . Exhausting.

  “A ball?”

  “The Jingle Balls Ball. Mr. Match is putting it on with the Sharks and the Stars, and there’ll be a whole bunch of matches meeting there, and all the proceeds go to testicular cancer awareness. Do it for the balls, Rose.”

  “Two pro soccer teams and a bunch of people who are almost but not quite good matches meeting for the first time. What could possibly go wrong?” This was how it was. Lu wore me down every time she wanted something. And I always gave in. She was cute and convincing. Like a very tenacious prairie dog.

  “So you’re in?”

  “Fine. When and where?”

  She gave me the details and we hung up, just as my office door swung open.

  “Boss?” PJ, my assistant, stumbled through the door, looking uncertain as ever. His shirt was rumpled, and I was pretty sure he’d mismatched the buttons because his collar was awkwardly lopsided.

  “What’s up, PJ?”

  “So there’s this thing . . .”

  “What kind of thing?” I should never have agreed to hire my partner’s nephew to be my assistant.

  “So, like, a guy called, right? And he says the server crashed and so their entire system is down, and he like, he thinks it was our software, and so like, there’s lawyers and stuff he’s calling, and—”

  “Can you just put me through to this guy please? I’ll figure it out.” I walked back around my desk and sat as PJ nodded his assent and disappeared. Odds were fifty-fifty he’d accidentally put me through to the place he usually ordered our sandwiches from.

  My extension beeped and I picked it up. “Putting you through now to Kenneth Ellis at Calico Solutions.”

  That was almost professional. Maybe PJ wasn’t so hopeless.

  Someone picked up on the other end: “Hello, you’ve reached the Fun Dungeon, San Diego’s hottest underground social club, this is Maddie.”

  Oh lord. “Wrong number, sorry.” I did not want to know what PJ did in his off hours.

  I hung up and then redialed Calico Solutions. Kenneth Ellis had been a pain in the ass for as long as my company had been selling security solutions to his. I almost hoped he’d try to sue us and then just go away. But that would probably be bad for business.

  “Kenneth, hello,” I said when he picked up. “It’s Rose Gonzalez, CEO of Airlock Security Solutions?”

  I listened to Kenneth whine, rocking back and forth in my chair. It was the usual stuff. His own IT team was a mess, and I often sent my guys to fix their systems so that ours could be properly integrated. As he went on at great length, my cell phone lit up on my desk with a message from Lu.

  And a photo . . .

  Of the hottest man I’d ever laid eyes on. He had a dark beard, a head of cropped dark hair, and penetrating eyes that were almost black. A tiny scar cut across one eyebrow, and the lips, which were curved up in a sexy half-smile, were full and sensuous. His nose, which had clearly been broken once or twice, was long and proud, and something about his entire expression made me f
eel like he was staring straight at me. I felt a blush hit my cheeks and then I blushed harder as I considered how ridiculous it was that I was actually becoming shy in front of a photograph.

  Another text popped up beneath the photo. “Crab man.”

  I realized, maybe too late, I’d agreed to meet the guy without ever getting his real name.

  2

  ASH

  Max is Still Annoying

  Balls were not my thing.

  Or I mean, I had no gripes with my own balls. I mean, I actually kind of liked them. Not that this is something I talk about a lot. But when Max Winchell suggested I attend the Jingle Ball to benefit testicular cancer while I was in San Diego, I agreed. It was a good cause, and it would give me a chance to hang out with Max again.

  Max was kind of an odd duck. I’d known him since grade school, and he’d always been a total outlier when it came to normal school kid categorization. He was by far the biggest nerd in any class we were ever in. He’d eagerly raise his hand to answer whatever questions the teacher asked, and proudly demonstrate his superior intellect. But then, when guys like me decided to toss him around a little on the playground, he demonstrated a completely different set of skills—he was strong and tenacious and would fight dirty if the situation called for it.

  And that’s how we became friends. I was planning to rub his face in a little mud puddle behind the classroom bungalow at recess, and the guy ended up getting me into some kind of jujitsu headlock and then demanding that we play soccer. I liked soccer, so I gave in. But Max was better than everyone else at that, too. Which is probably how he ended up on the South Bay Sharks.