Holidate

by Monica Murphy

  “I’m sure it’s none of those things—” I start, but she lifts her head, glaring at me.

  “It could be all of those things. You don’t know. Most people just think I’m a joke. I’m sure he’s one of many who believe that.” Her eyes shine with unshed tears, and my chest starts aching again. Aching over her pain, and how she’s talking about herself.

  “Candice…”

  “Come on, you think I’m a joke. I’m just the silly girl who was stupid enough to agree with your mom to try to help you. But you don’t want my help. You have enough going on in your life, running the family business. You don’t have time to deal with me,” she says, her words hot and breathless.

  That’s exactly how I viewed her when I first met her—when I realized who she was. A silly, useless woman who was wasting her time and mine. And while we don’t know each other that well, I am getting to know her, and I know she’s the furthest thing from that.

  “You’re not a joke,” I tell her gently. “And I don’t think you’re silly. Not at all.”

  “Really? You don’t?” She blinks up at me, those tears clinging to her eyelashes finally falling, and I reach out, rubbing them away from her cheeks. Her skin is soft. She’s so damn pretty.

  Yeah. She’s definitely not a joke.

  “No, I don’t. You’re a good person, Candice. Giving. Generous. Kind.” I tuck her hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering on her skin. She smells so damn good. “Patient. You have to be, to put up with me.”

  Her lips curve in the faintest smile. “True.”

  “Hey, was that—was that a smile?” I tilt my head and squint, pretending I’m inspecting her closely.

  She shakes her head, her smile growing. “Stop.”

  “No, seriously. Did you smile just now? Really?” I touch the corner of her curved mouth, the feel of her damp lips doing something to me.

  Twisting me up inside.

  “Are you making fun of me right now, Charles?” She sounds indignant, yet also amused.

  “Maybe. Just trying to cheer you up. Is it working?” I trace the generous curve of her lower lip with my thumb.

  Her smile fades, and those big brown eyes get even bigger. “Yes.”

  “I’ve been wondering how that lipstick of yours is still on your mouth.” I press my thumb a little harder against her lip, dragging it across her skin. Trying to smudge the ruby-red color, but it stays put.

  “It’s all-day lasting,” she says, sounding like a cosmetics commercial. “Guaranteed twelve hours.”

  “Interesting.” Leaning in, I rest my lips on hers for the barest moment. Just enough to set my blood pumping. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” I murmur against her mouth.

  “Do what?” She’s breathless, but not with anger like before.

  “This,” I say, just before I kiss her for real.

  Eighteen

  Candice

  Charles Sullivan is kissing me.

  I need to repeat that in case it didn’t quite sink in. But…

  Charles. Sullivan. Is.

  Kissing.

  Me.

  And no surprise, he’s really, really good at it. His lips move over mine, his big hand coming up to cup the side of my face. His tongue teases at the seam of my lips and I open for him as if I have no control, because guess what?

  I have.

  No.

  Control.

  I’m tingling. My heart is racing. My stomach feels light, or maybe that’s all the champagne I had on an empty stomach.

  It doesn’t matter what it is, I am light. Floating like the fog that’s drifting through the trees outside. All because of Charlie’s lips on mine. His tongue searching my mouth. His hand touching my cheek. His other hand—

  Whoa.

  His other hand brushes the side of my boob and I end the kiss, a shuddery exhale leaving me as I open my eyes to find him already watching me, that startling green gaze seemingly even darker than normal.

  “That was—nice,” I say, wincing at my fine choice of words.

  He chuckles, the sound deep and delicious in the close confines of my car. “Nice. That’s one way to put it.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  “Do what? Kiss you?”

  I nod, scared of his answer. He better not say he felt sorry for me.

  “I’ve been curious all night, wondering what you taste like.” He takes a deep breath and exhales raggedly. “I’ve been curious since I first met you, if I’m being one hundred percent truthful.”

  I really like it when Charlie’s one hundred percent truthful. “I’ve been curious too,” I admit.

  He smiles. I also like it when he smiles. He doesn’t seem to do that much, except for when he’s around me. “So we’ve both been feeling it.”

  “It’s been kind of obvious, don’t you think.”

  “I like that.” He nods. “I like that a lot.”

  We stare at each other for a few seconds, and I get a serious case of the giggles. As in, once I start, I can’t stop. I don’t know why. Maybe because I can’t believe that I actually just kissed the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, and he just admitted that he’s been curious too. Charlie confessing his feelings is a surprise, a pleasant one, and I can’t believe he’s being so open with me tonight.

  Maybe it’s all the champagne I consumed too, but I like to think I’m giggling because I’m happy. Happy with Charlie.

  “Why are you laughing?”

  “I thought you wanted to see me smile.” I giggle again, which turns into more giggling, and I try my best to contain them by pressing my fingers against my mouth, but it’s no use. It’s totally not working.

  I erupt into a giggling fit all over again.

  “I did. I do. I just want to make sure you’re not laughing at me because I have bad kissing skills or whatever.” He actually looks worried.

  And that is the sweetest thing ever.

  “You do not have bad kissing skills,” I tell him, leaning over so now I’m the one kissing him. I try to pull away after one, but he buries his fingers in my hair, keeping me in place, and then we’re kissing again. And again. The interior of the car starts to grow warm and he does this low murmur-slash-moan thing that rumbles in his chest and makes everything inside of me clench up. It’s the hottest thing alive, and I’m thinking Charlie is the absolute hottest thing alive when he finally breaks away from my lips. Panting as he falls back into the driver’s seat, facing the front.

  “We steamed up the windows.” He reaches out, draws his finger through the condensation.

  “I’ve never done that before,” I confess, unable to stop the giddiness from rising up inside of me. “You’re turning me into a bad girl, Charlie. Making out in cars and steaming up the windows.”

  That devilish gleam lights up his eyes and he smirks at me. “It’s kind of fun, isn’t it?”

  I nod, amazed at how he turned this night completely around for me.

  I still can’t believe he kissed me. That I kissed him. That we’re looking at each other right now like we want to start all over again.

  But he did promise a walk around the trees. Hot chocolate. And the chance for me to shop without anyone else around, and I can pick out one thing that I love.

  “Let’s go for that walk,” I suggest.

  He frowns. Tugs on his lower lip with his thumb and index finger. Ooh, I like that. It’s kind of sexy. “You really want to?”

  I nod again, and start bouncing in my seat.

  Laughing, he reaches for the handle and opens his door. “Let’s go then.”

  Once we’re outside, he helps me slip on my coat, flipping my hair out of the collar so it doesn’t remain caught. Somehow that move is very flirtatious, and I smile up at him, only to have him lean down and drop a quick kiss on my lips.

  Hmm, I could get used to this kind of good treatment.

  I follow after him as he walks over to the little red shed, pulling out a set of keys I had no idea were in his pocket, a
nd unlocks a metal box that’s attached to the wall. It’s filled with switches and he flips a few of them, more lights coming on. And music.

  Yes, music!

  Christmas carols of course. An instrumental version of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” echoes from the speakers, and it has this old fashioned quality that instantly makes me feel like I’m wandering around a mall at night, clutching my mom’s hand as she takes us to the center court where Santa and his village full of elves awaits.

  I remember the wreaths that hung from the ceiling, wrapped in red ribbon and blinking with multicolored lights. How excited I was, and my brothers were too. How I couldn’t wait to tell Santa what I wanted for Christmas, and he’d give me a little candy cane when I was finished.

  One year, the last year my mom was with us for the holidays, I remember telling him I wanted my mama to get well, to be normal, and he said he would do his best to make that happen.

  But he couldn’t do that. My mother was never well, never normal again. And that’s when I knew, deep down, that Santa wasn’t real.

  The tears come once more, listening to the hauntingly beautiful music, the bittersweet memories of me and my mom and my brothers together taking my breath away. I try to dab at the tears as discreetly as possible, but he sees me.

  Of course he does.

  “Hey.” Charlie grabs my wrist, bringing my hand up to his mouth, where he presses a gentle kiss to my knuckles. There’s a tender glow in his gaze, one I’ve never seen before, and I wonder if this is what it’s like, to be cared for by Charles Sullivan. “What’s wrong? You’re crying again.”

  “It’s—it’s nothing.” I try to smile, but instead a sob escapes me. “I’m sorry. It’s just…this music. It reminds me of being a little girl.”

  I am full-blown crying, and Charlie is full-blown frowning.

  “I can turn it off,” he offers, and I shake my head.

  “I like it,” I say with a little hiccup.

  The doubtful expression on his face remains, but he keeps the music on. “Victoria’s the one who found it. Said it’s from an old track of music they used to play at a discount store in the ’70s. She liked the old fashioned vibe, which is what we’re going for here this year. That’s our theme,” he explains.

  I frown. “Your theme?”

  Nodding, he gently wipes away a stray tear from my face, making me shiver. I really like it when he touches me. “Vic and Mom like to have a theme for the tree lots every season. This year’s is an old fashioned Christmas.”

  “This music nails it.” I sniff, feeling silly. Appreciating all over again that he told me he doesn’t think I am. “It’s just making me sentimental, that’s all.”

  Without a word, he pulls me into his arms, and wraps me up in the most fantastic hug I’ve ever experienced. My face is pressed against his chest, and I can feel his heart beating. He’s so warm and big and I feel so protected in his strong arms. One large hand is resting in the middle of my back and the other is tangled in my hair, and I close my eyes, absorbing his strength.

  “Whenever you’re ready to talk about her, you can, okay? Don’t try to stuff your feelings deep inside and act like everything’s all right. You’re allowed to feel, Gaines. And you’re allowed to miss her,” he murmurs into my hair. “Especially during the holidays.”

  If he’s trying to make me cry even more, then he just succeeded.

  Who knew Charlie the Grinch actually has a heart?

  After we walk through the trees and Charlie makes me hot chocolate as promised, he opens up the store and lets me wander to my heart’s content. He watches me for a while, eventually growing bored because the man always has to be doing something, and I tell him he can go to his office and work if he needs to.

  The relief on his face was obvious and he takes off, leaving me all alone in the most blissful holiday store I’ve ever been to.

  Nibbling on a giant cookie he gave me with the hot chocolate, I take all the time I want exploring every nook and cranny of this place, and there are a lot of nooks and crannies. I really want to get freaking everything, but I know that’s just me being greedy, and I don’t need all of this stuff.

  I have to pick something carefully. Something that will remind me of this moment, of this entire night. How it started out with promise, and how I deflated like a balloon only to be filled back up with a few sweet words and kisses from Charlie.

  Smiling, I pick up an ornament of an old fashioned Santa Claus. He’s standing with his legs spread, one hand on his hip, the other hand slinging a black sack over his shoulder, a pleased expression on his face. His outfit is made of red velvet trimmed with white and his beard is white fluff, and I love him.

  But it’s not quite right.

  Then I find it. Another ornament, but this one is a set of white angel’s wings that are actually made of tiny feathers. They’re soft to the touch, cute and dainty, and they make me think of my mother.

  Yes. These delicate little wings are it.

  Clutching the ornament carefully, I make my way out of the store and down the short hall toward Charlie’s office. The door is partially closed, but I can see the light shining from beneath. The music is still playing—there are speakers inside the building too, and excitement makes my fingers shake as I reach out with my free hand and slowly push the door open.

  Only to find Charlie stretched out on the couch, fast asleep.

  I lean against the door and watch him, smiling to myself. He’s completely out. The tie is gone, the top buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned and the dress shoes are kicked off. His feet hang over the edge of the couch, and I’m guessing he can’t be too terribly comfortable, but he must’ve been exhausted to fall asleep like that.

  He is so adorable when he sleeps. His face…I bet that’s what he looked like when he was a little boy. I wish I could snuggle up to him, but the couch is narrow, and I need to get a hold of myself. I mean, we only just kissed.

  Snuggling will be for later.

  I can’t help but think he’s probably a good snuggler.

  I walk over to his desk and set the ornament right in the middle of it. Grab a Post-it notepad and write out a quick message.

  * * *

  This is the ornament I want. Thank you, Charlie.

  * * *

  Nibbling on the end of the pen, I frown. That sounds so…flat. And how should I sign it.

  Love, Candice?

  That’s way too fast.

  Should I just say…

  Thanks, Candice?

  That’s too informal.

  Maybe just Candice then?

  Boring.

  Oooh, I’ve got it. I tear off the first note, crumple it up and toss it into the nearby garbage can, then start all over.

  * * *

  This ornament makes me think of my mother. Thank you, Charlie. For everything.

  xo,

  Candice

  * * *

  Smiling, I remove the Post-it and seal it on his desk, then arrange the ornament to cover part of it. I spot the tie that belongs to my father, long forgotten on the corner of the desk and I grab it, nestling it into my coat pocket.

  My car is parked outside, and the keys are still inside of it. Deciding I can just go ahead and leave him here, I go to the couch and lean down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. Right on top of that glorious, messy hair of his.

  Then I sneak out, shutting the store’s double doors carefully, pleased when they lock in place. I go to the shed near the entrance and open the metal box, shutting off all the switches he turned on. The lights go out, as does the music, save for the string of white lights that must always stay on.

  There’s dampness in the air, the fog swirls, and I breathe deeply, the scent of Christmas all around me. This was a good night.

  Within minutes I’m in the car, the heater going, the volume up full blast as I sing along with Mariah Carey. “‘All I want for Christmas is you.’”

  Hmm. I think maybe that could be
my new theme song.

  Nineteen

  “I have a confession.” I sigh blissfully as I settle into the empty seat across from Sarah. We’re meeting for lunch, and it feels like it’s been forever since I’ve seen her. “I think I’m in love.”

  “Well, hello to you too,” she says, her brows raised. “And who in the world are you in love with?”

  Another blissful sigh escapes me. I’ve spent as much time as possible with Charlie these past few days, which hasn’t been enough for my tastes, but I know he’s extremely busy. And really? So am I. I’ve been working hard on the two charity events I’m semi in charge of, including the arts council event, which is this upcoming Saturday night. I also convinced Charlie to accompany me to Flute Christmas a few days ago, and he reluctantly agreed to go.

  And then had the best time ever because it’s actually a lot of fun, so take that, my friends.

  “Candice, answer me. You’re freaking me out,” Sarah says, pounding her fist gently on the table in between us.

  We’re meeting for lunch at Sweet Dreams, and I was sort of hoping Stella would be here so I could let her know I’m in love too, but unfortunately I don’t see her behind the counter.

  “It’s Charlie, silly.” I laugh, glancing over at the very long line of people eager to order their food. It’s extra busy at Sweet Dreams as usual. “Did you grab lunch yet?”

  “I’m waiting for them to call my name. And lucky you, I ordered you something too,” Sarah says, smiling at me.

  “Aw, you didn’t have to do that.” Isn’t she the sweetest? Jared really better ask her to marry him soon.

  “Talking about lunch is boring. Let’s get to the good stuff.” Sarah leans across the table, her voice lowering. “So are you really saying you’re in love with Charlie? That happened…fast.”