A Very Merry Alpha Christmas

by Chance, Logan

  New York is not the place I ever thought I’d live in, growing up. My mother fainted, literally fainted, when I told her I was going to move here to attend college. After she came to, we had a battle over which is worse—tornado sirens or the possibility of being robbed on the subway. Rats vs not paying insane rent costs, and instead living free back home. Thankfully I was a good student and managed a scholarship to pay my way, because no matter how many killer points I made about epic rats throughout history (Master Splinter, Chuck E. Cheese, Rizzo from the Muppets, Speedy Gonzales, Ratatouille) she was not getting on board with my plan.

  I visited the first year after I moved. Second year I called home. Third year we swapped texts. And this year...well, it hasn’t played out yet.

  North finally turns to me. “Are you taking a cab?” he asks.

  “Oh, um, I can walk. I’m not too far from here.” My teeth chatter as I pull back my scarf to block out the freezing air.

  “Nonsense. I can take you. My car is waiting.” He nods to the street.

  There’s a black SUV parked in the middle of the deserted road. So much for the city that never sleeps. Just look at the power Santa has. I laugh to myself. I want to say that to him, but I don’t because it’s way too cheesy. I’ll leave the bad jokes up to him.

  “Ok.” I nod and he offers to carry the snow globe for me. I’m super thankful because it allows me to shove my frozen hands deep down into my coat pockets. The snow crunches loudly under my boots and he glances down. And then laughs a little.

  “You make a lot of noise for such a tiny thing.”

  “I should make that my Instagram bio.”

  North nods. “Indeed.” He opens the door for me and I eagerly climb into the warmth of the car.

  My body shivers uncontrollably for a few minutes as I try to warm my hands and acclimate to the heat.

  North appears unaffected by the chill of the air.

  “You need a better winter coat,” he says, unbuttoning his own as he makes himself more comfortable in the space next to mine. Other than sitting in his office, I don’t think I’ve ever been this close to him before.

  I keep my hands near my body because I fear touching him for some alien reason—as if I’ll be sucked into a North Caspian sex vortex. I laugh to myself and shake the feeling away. It’s only a ride.

  “Are you leaving tonight?” I ask him, trying to keep my voice even.

  North taps away on his phone, squinting his eyes a little as he tries to listen to me and work at the same time. “Yes. I just booked it now, actually.” He narrows his eyes on me. “We do not remember days, we remember moments.”

  Oh my God.

  He’s looking at my Instagram bio.

  My freaking Instagram pictures.

  “That’s private,” I say, trying to grab his phone from his hands.

  North grins, keeping a hold on his phone with ease. “Looks pretty public to me.” His mouth forms a little ‘o’ as he studies the phone. “Well damn. You do look good in a bikini.”

  “North,” I whine, covering my face. “This isn’t happening.”

  “What?” He laughs. “You posted these things for any strange creeper on the internet to view but I’m not allowed?”

  “I don’t know those people. It’s completely different.”

  “Exactly.” He laughs again and then gazes at me. “You know what men probably do looking at these pictures of you?”

  “Please don’t go there, North.”

  He shrugs. “I’m just saying you’re too beautiful to be giving it all away for free.”

  “Ah, the business side of North Caspian has arrived,” I tease.

  “No,” he says, turning his full attention on me. North’s voice softens a bit, lowering in register in a way that makes me squirm in my seat. “I’m just letting you know someone should cherish a girl like you. Someone you can create ‘moments’ with. The moments you want to have, like your bio says.”

  “How do you know I don’t?”

  He grins. “Because you have more pictures of your cat on social media than anything else.”

  “Leo is a really cool cat.”

  “Please tell me you named him after a Ninja Turtle.”

  “Definitely not after De-crap-io.”

  He cracks a grin. “I must confess, Miss Winterbourne, that I may have a crush on you.”

  I laugh and he smiles warmly.

  With a heavy sigh North tucks his phone into his coat pocket. “There’s a lovely little cafe up this way that stays open all night long. Unless you have someplace to be, I’d love your company, Holly.”

  “Only if you tell me what your bio says.”

  North shakes his head. “I don’t give anything away for free.”

  “No social media whatsoever?”

  “Just for the store. Nothing personal.”

  “Ok well, what would it say, if you had one?”

  He thinks for a moment, tapping his finger over his clean shaven jaw. “Anything you can imagine can be real.” North offers me his hand as the car comes to a slow and steady stop.

  The ice crunches under the weight of the heavy SUV and I dread going back out into the cold, but I also don’t want to be away from this man. It’s such an odd feeling.

  I’ve spent the better half of the last six years hating his very existence and now he’s the person I want to be next to the most on Christmas. Maybe it’s because his hand is strong and warm, matching his eyes and sincerity in his smile. It’s a smile I’ve never seen during all the years I’ve worked for him.

  He’s somehow gone from being the Grim Reaper in Gucci to a saint in less than eight hours. I almost feel bad for judging him so harshly all this time. Who knew that a kid that grew up rich and privileged such as North Caspian would be the one missing out on Christmas morning. How epically tragic...right?

  “Ready?” he asks.

  I place my hand in his and nod with my own smile. It feels so good to touch him, to smile, and to laugh with him. I like how freaking North Caspian makes me feel—and I have no idea how to process this.

  But I allow him to pop the door open and the cold air to assault us as we jump from the stunning luxury vehicle and race into a small but super cozy cafe.

  North acts like a true gentleman once we’re inside of the place. He offers to take my coat and hangs it limply over his arm as we find our own seats.

  There isn’t another soul in this place except for us and the staff. I actually feel incredibly shitty for making people work on a holiday such as this. North must notice because after he pulls out a seat for me and scoots it in, he takes up residency next to my ear and explains it all.

  “I was told that they remain open so Santa won’t go hungry.”

  I laugh a little. “Sounds legit.”

  He takes a seat next to me. “Actually, they stay open to make sure anyone on patrol can get a hot cup of coffee and a good home-cooked meal. Big time NYPD blood runs through this place.”

  “That’s pretty sweet,” I say. “Makes me feel a little less bad about being here.”

  “We’ll leave a good tip, too.” North smiles. “Order whatever you like. My treat.” He nosedives into his menu and I kind of, oddly, enjoy this about him.

  I’ve been on dates (Hell, is that what this is?) where the guy tries too hard to carry on a conversation and it becomes painfully apparent from the start that we’re not a match.

  Shit, listen to me.

  I’m actually sizing him up.

  I’m sizing up my boss like he’s a head of cabbage in the grocery store, flopping him from side to side as I weigh him in my hands and decide if this guy is ripe for the picking. Oh God, what is happening to me?

  I look down at my menu. Buttermilk biscuits with fried chicken and gravy are a main feature. French fries come as a side item. I keep rolling my eyes around the menu to find something less dead-animal-like. There’s salad. That doesn’t seem very Christmas-esque. Oh, well, one has cranberries. I guess that makes it a
little more seasonal...ugh, sometimes it sucks being a vegan.

  “Find anything?” North asks, closing his menu, and looking pretty satisfied by his choice.

  “I think I’ll just have some tea.”

  “No, you have to eat more than that,” he argues. “Tea is not Christmas morning breakfast.”

  I laugh at him, but he looks completely serious. “Oh, um, it’s just that there isn’t a lot to choose from.”

  “I’m sure they can whip something up. What are you hungry for, Holly?”

  And I have to stare at him because this is something that a person of his status would be able to say so easily—because he’s used to getting his way and having anything he wants at anytime he wants it. Remember the hot dog just hours ago? Must be nice.

  I shrug. “Pancakes would be nice...but they can be a little tricky to get them fluffy and not the consistency of a wet diaper.”

  “This is not exactly how I pictured the conversation flowing on our first date,” he says, and then clears his throat. “I mean...”

  “So you’ve had us in this scenario before, Mr. Caspian?”

  He grins. “Oh, Miss Winterbourne...I’ve had quite a few scenarios dreamt up in my imagination.”

  I squeeze my thighs together to ward off the want he inspires deep inside me with his words. “If you can imagine it, you can have it. Isn’t that what you say?”

  He smiles a bit impishly. “I wasn’t really thinking about it in such realistic terms. But it does remain true.”

  I brave staring at him, gazing into those dark haunting eyes of his.

  The table is small and we’re just an inch away from touching if we choose. I should feel weak, but there’s something about sitting next to a man this powerful and confident that bleeds over and into me.

  “What would North Caspian normally do to get a girl he wants?”

  For a moment North is silent as a waitress drops off two cups of coffee and then flitters away.

  “Every woman has been different,” he says. “You would be,” he pauses before continuing again, “much different. For a lot of reasons.”

  “Like?”

  “Like,” he takes a swallow of coffee and then wipes the brim of his mug with a scratchy white napkin, “you already know more about me than any other woman I’ve ever had, as a start.”

  Had. A woman he has had. Why does it sound so hot when he says it like that? As if the women in his life have been some kind of moment in time—like a nice designer handbag. Expensive, in style and wanted by millions, but only owned by a select few and then retired to a vault for the rest of its existence to remain in a collection of once valuable things.

  More importantly, why do I want to so badly feel like a used, vintage Birkin bag right now? I have to cross my legs as I think of the possibilities of being ‘had’ by North Caspian.

  “Is that good or bad?” I ask, grabbing for my coffee cup. Except I’m not as graceful as the hot Grim Reaper in Gucci, and it spills all the way down the front of my favorite white sweater.

  “Can’t dress me up and take me anywhere,” I mumble to myself.

  North only laughs. And then a napkin comes my way. From his hand. To my boobs. And he rubs my boobs with that hand and napkin as he tries to help clean my mess.

  Holy Santa balls, Batman.

  “Um...I think I can get it.”

  He grins a little, and then throws his hands up in the air. “I was only trying to help. This is not part of my plan, I promise.”

  I peek at him through my lashes as I continue to pat my sweater dry. “You have a plan, do you?”

  North wipes his hands. “Just a joke.” But his expression when he stares at me is not just a joke. It looks quite severe, actually.

  I want to busy myself with coffee, but I’m nervous about dropping the rest on my pants and then that would lead to some serious trouble if he had hands on my...there.

  And now I’m picturing his face between my quivering thighs, eyes connecting, while his mouth expertly eats me out until I come over and over.

  I should have gone home. I should have left this at thank you for the gorgeous snow globe gift, six years of employment and a hefty amount of weiner jokes today. That would have made things complicated, but a lot less complicated than this.

  North tilts his head a bit, measuring his words carefully before he goes for it, which only makes me even more nervous. “Tell me something, Holly. Have you ever, in the six years we’ve known each other, had a fantasy about me?”

  “North,” I warn.

  He grins deliciously as he sets his mug down after taking a sip. “You can tell me. Your secret is safe.”

  I laugh, but it’s a nervous laughter as I try to keep my cheeks from blushing. “I think letting you know what my fantasies are about is the most dangerous thing in the world, North.”

  He plays along. “Is that right?”

  “Mhm. More dangerous than people texting while driving.”

  North leans in, full smile on his handsome face. “This should be so good. Curiosity piqued, Miss Winterbourne. Please do tell.”

  I swear it feels like the whole diner has shrunk in size as we sit here, sizing each other up, trying to get secrets from each other. “I’m not telling you.”

  “Oh, I think you will. Because I happen to know how to make the fluffiest vegan pancakes in the world.”

  Giggling like an idiot, I say, “I’m sure you do, but still not giving up the goods, Mr. Caspian.”

  “Ok, full disclosure? I really don’t know how to cook fucking anything, but I do happen to have the best chef money can afford. I’m quite certain he can whip up a towering stack of vegan pancakes on demand. And whatever else your tender little heart of mercy desires.”

  I pretend to think, tapping my chin with my pink-tipped nail. “I would probably let you in on the details of these fantasies of mine if vegan crepes with vegan cream cheese and locally sourced strawberries were on the table.”

  North smiles with his eyes. “You could have asked for so much more, Winterbourne. You’re supposed to be ruthless, remember?”

  “Maybe I’m saving it as part of the fantasy itself.”

  Now he blushes, and oh my god it’s adorable. “I think we should move this party twenty miles north of this cafe.”

  “I doubt your chef is going to be up for making crepes in the middle of the night, on Christmas, no less.”

  North frees his wallet from the pocket of his coat and tosses cash down on the table. Way more than the cost of our two barely-sipped coffees.

  I try not to act like a little geek about it, but I’ve never seen a person be so quick to spend money so freely before. Well, I’ve never actually been talking on a friendly level to one, either.

  Clients of Wondrous don’t count.

  “My chef is going where I’m going,” he explains. “And I’d love for you to come too.”

  I swallow. Hard. “Are you making a joke?”

  “No, certainly not, Holly.” North offers his hand. “All you have to do is say yes.”

  I exhale hard as I try not to laugh, but his offer is so incredibly unlike anything that has ever happened in my life, I can’t help myself. I feel like I’m dreaming. Like I’m falling down the rabbit hole and I don’t know if anyone will be there to catch me when I fall.

  Do I say yes? Do I take the plunge? Instagram is ridiculous but I did mean my words—I want moments. Really amazing moments. This feels like a big one.

  Ugh.

  Bad choice of words.

  I glance at North, his dazzling raven-like eyes that will forever haunt me, and slip my hand atop his strong warm palm, interlacing our fingers.

  “Yes.”

  Chapter 4

  Holly

  The Baths is not like anything I’ve ever seen. It’s something straight out of a travel magazine or cruise brochure. I’m not much of a traveler thanks to insufficient funds for things such as this, but in my mind I figured a beach is a beach is a beach and maybe the
re’d also be a nice hotel at the end of the day with a comfy bed and good room service.

  Well, that was all before I went on a trip with North freaking Caspian and all his magical snow globe money. This place is so much more than ‘just’ a beach. Otherworldly.

  Simply spectacular.

  An adventure of a lifetime.

  We spend most of our day in the warm sun (Gotta love that it is December. Freaking Christmas day.) climbing through a maze of caves and rocks along the beach like hidden treasures of the land. The rocks stand tall as giants and sometimes the spaces between them are so slim you have to turn sideways to slither through to the other side.

  The water is so warm, clear and pristine, unlike anything back home in New York, not even Montauk can hold a glass to this Heaven on Earth, and that is the nicest beach town I’ve ever visited on vacation.

  We have our own little set up complete with a gazebo that is draped in long, flowy-white linens and the most comfortable lounge chairs. A concierge is on hand for all the things we could possibly ever need or want. Drinks, snacks, sun tan lotion, extra towels.

  North even had a special menu prepared for breakfast with, yes, you guessed it, the fluffiest vegan banana pancakes and strawberry topped crepes I have ever stuffed in my mouth.

  He watches in delight as I hum and thank him a million times for such luxuries and thoughtfulness.

  I try my best not to spy on him as he puts his mouth on the edge of his mug and tastes his coffee. There’s something about the way he swallows. I can’t quite do it justice by talking about it—it’s something you have to see, but it floods my veins with warmth that should not exist from simply watching a person do such mundane, human things.

  And if you think I’m heated by his morning coffee routine, then I shouldn't have to explain how walking around with him in low slung beach shorts showing off his incredible razor sharp abs all day makes me feel. What is it about that V between men’s hip bones that sends a female brain into a complete puddle of goo?

  Combo those bad boys with his helpfulness over the rocks and always putting his hand on my own hip to steady me as I climb and I’m a hot mess. I can’t lie. I’ve never seen this side of North. He’s so carefree and swoony. He smiles. He actually smiles.