Holidate

by Monica Murphy

  “It’s perfect.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “Like you. You’re perfect.”

  I warm under his words, at his reverent tone, and how sweet he’s being. I could get used to this kind of treatment.

  I might never want it to stop.

  “…we also want to thank Charles Sullivan and his family for allowing us to have our event here tonight at their beautiful tree farm.” The president of the Monterey Peninsula Arts Council is giving a speech, thanking everyone, honoring those who’ve made major contributions with either their money or their time, or a combination of both. “Mr. Sullivan, your generosity is so appreciated, especially with your offering this wonderful location for our party this evening at the last minute after the unfortunate incident at our original venue. I hear your employees were very helpful with the setup, and we so appreciate that.”

  I’m standing with the rest of the board behind the president as she speaks, and I so wish I could hang on his arm and tell him how wonderful he is, but I can’t.

  So I cheer and yell for him instead.

  He nods at the president as she speaks to him, his gaze sliding to mine, and I smile at him, raising my hands so he can see me clapping for him enthusiastically. His eyes practically smolder as he takes me in, and I can feel my face get hot.

  The way this man looks at me makes me want to run away with him and do naughty things.

  “And finally, I would like to offer a special thank you to someone who is near and dear to the arts council. This person goes above and beyond every single year in her support for our organization. Not only does she donate money, but she also donates so much of her time. She volunteers for special events, is on our board and is always leading the way by forming necessary committees and coming up with great ideas. She also has this way about her—she convinces us to do things we don’t always plan on doing but always end up being incredibly beneficial to the cause.” The president—her name is Sue and she’s lovely—turns to look directly at…

  Me.

  “Candice, please come here.”

  Stunned, I walk over to where she’s standing, blinking against the glare of the bright lights shining upon us. I can’t believe all that nice stuff she was saying was about me.

  “Everyone, this is Candice Gaines. She’s been volunteering for the arts council for the past five years, since she was still a teen, and she’s been on the board for the past two years.” Sue slips her arm around me, giving me a little shake. “We don’t know what we would do without your help, Candice. Sometimes, it feels like the only reason we’re still around is because of your dedication.”

  “Aw.” I hug her, fighting the tears that want to come. Everyone’s clapping, I hear someone whistle loudly, and I know that’s Charlie.

  Once the applause dies down and Sue tells everyone to enjoy the rest of the party—and that dessert is coming soon—I leave the board group and make my way to Charlie. He’s standing in front of the cashier shack, waiting for me. His hands are in his pockets, and his tie is loose. His hair is the slightest bit messy and I’m guessing that’s from him running his hands through it all the time. It’s a bit of a bad habit he has.

  Anyway, he looks exceptionally handsome at this moment, and when he spots me, his eyes light up and he smiles. He is the happiest I think I’ve ever seen him.

  I know I’m pretty happy right now.

  “Look at you, finally getting all that recognition you deserve,” he says as I approach.

  I smile and look down for a second, feeling bashful. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

  “It’s a huge deal.” He sweeps me up in his arms the moment I get close enough. “I’m so proud of you, Gaines.”

  Before I can say anything, he’s kissing me. And oh my word, I feel the need to rest my hand on top of my head, because I feel like it might blow off. It’s not that it turns instantly deep with lots of tongue, it’s the way he’s kissing me. Warmly.

  Like he’s happy for me.

  Proud.

  Like he actually cares.

  It’s…

  Wonderful.

  I break the kiss first, coming up for air. He smiles down at me, his fingers drifting across my cheek, and I know I will never, ever forget the way he’s looking at me. Right now, at this very moment. As if I’m the only thing that matters to him.

  “You were recognized too,” I remind him once I finally catch my breath. “You bailed us out big time.”

  “I didn’t even want to do it,” he says with a chuckle.

  “Because your automatic response is always no.” I start to laugh and I lean into him, a little moan escaping me when he skims his fingers down the center of my bare back. “That feels good,” I murmur.

  “You wearing a bra under this?” He lifts a brow.

  Slowly I shake my head. “Can’t, since the dress has an open back.”

  “I see that.” There goes the smolder thing he’s so good at again. “You want to come back to my place when this is over?”

  Yes! Yes, yes, yes. That’s what I want say. But instead, I play it cool. Tilt my head. Contemplate him for a second. “Sure.” Oh, I sound so casual. Good for me. “But I still haven’t met your brother.”

  The infamous Russell Sullivan, Jr. is the only Sullivan I haven’t met. When I asked Charlie why he wasn’t named after his dad, he said he dodged a bullet, which I thought was funny. Charlie’s father is so nice, and of course, I think the world of his mom. I introduced Charlie to my brother and Sarah—my dad and Mitzi were there too. They all chatted for quite a while, which made me nervous since I had to leave them to take care of another matter, but I shouldn’t have worried.

  Charlie charmed every single one of them.

  “He’s around.” Charlie releases his hold on me, though he still has his hand resting low on my back. “Want me to go find him?”

  “In a minute.” I snuggle up close to him, watching everything that’s happening around us. There are so many people here, and the music is playing and everyone’s talking and drinking and laughing. It’s wonderful.

  I’ve never felt so content.

  “There you two are.” I recognize Isabel’s voice, and we both turn to watch as she walks up to us. “Candice, this has been an amazing party.”

  “Thank you.” I smile at her. “And thank you for allowing us to have it here. For helping me convince Charlie.”

  Isabel laughs. “Of course.” She sobers up immediately. “I do hope you two have had a chance to discuss what Charlie and I did. About you.”

  I frown. “What are you talking about?”

  Charlie goes completely stiff. “Mom. Not now.”

  “You didn’t tell her?” Isabel shakes her head, makes a couple of wobbly steps toward us. Is she tipsy? “Oh, Charlie. You have to be honest with her.”

  Dread makes my heart feel like it dropped into toes. “Honest about what?”

  “I’ll tell you later.” He slips his arm around my shoulders, but I duck out from under his touch, turning so I can look at him, and see the guilt spread across on his face.

  “Tell me now, Charlie. Please.” I’m scared.

  What are they talking about?

  “The day you fainted at Sweet Dreams,” Isabel starts, inhaling deep before she starts talking again. “I lied to you.”

  I shake my head. “About what?”

  “You didn’t agree to helping out my Charlie. That’s why we met, so you could tell me no. You didn’t want to have anything to do with my plan. I tried to convince you to help us. I pulled out all the stops, even mentioning my cancer scare.” She pauses. “I’m not proud of that moment.”

  The memory comes back, unbidden. Of me and Isabel talking in the café, how she followed me outside, and how crazy she was acting. What she was saying.

  The results came in and instead of telling me over the phone, they wanted to talk to me. Face to face. That’s never good, right? They originally thought I might have—cancer.

  “And you wanted nothing to do w
ith me. Not that I could blame you. I was acting…slightly unhinged,” Isabel says.

  That’s why I fainted. It was the word cancer that did it to me. I don’t react well to that word. It has too many associations attached to it, and every one of them is bad news, reminding me of my mother.

  “So when you told me you couldn’t remember why we met in the first place, I—fudged it a little. Said that you agreed to help Charlie and introduce him around to people with connections, and you believed me. You made him and our family your number one cause for the season.” Isabel smiles, clutching her hands together in front of her. “And now look at you too. You’re actually together, and isn’t it the sweetest thing?”

  I stare at Isabel in disbelief as her words sink in. She lied.

  And Charlie knew all along?

  “So you sold him to me like he was some sort of charity case?” I ask Isabel.

  She blinks at me, shocked by my words, I’m sure, but jeez. Just listen to her. What she’s saying is…

  Awful.

  I thought I liked Isabel, but I’m not so sure after hearing this. And Charlie?

  I chance a glance at him, see the guilt and misery clouding his beautiful green eyes.

  “You knew about this?”

  “Cand—”

  “You knew and you didn’t tell me?” It doesn’t matter that I interrupted him.

  He knew.

  And he did nothing. Just let me believe that I was helping him out of the kindness of my heart when really his mother tricked me.

  Meaning he tricked me.

  “People take advantage of my giving spirit all the time,” I tell them both, lifting my chin, standing up as straight as I can. I need to look strong so I feel capable of making this little speech.

  I’m this close to falling apart.

  “But you’ve taken it too far. Especially you, Isabel. I thought you were better than that.” My gaze meets Charlie’s, and I swallow past the sudden lump in my throat. Just looking at him is breaking my heart. “I thought you were better than that too.”

  Before he can say anything, before he can defend himself or his mother or their actions, I turn around.

  And walk away.

  Twenty-Five

  Charlie

  I haven’t seen Candice in a week, and it’s slowly killing me.

  Yeah, yeah, I’ve been busy at work. It’s really picked up, with all the publicity we received from having the arts council fundraiser at the farm. We got exposure from the local TV news stations, the newspaper, a few write-ups from local bloggers and tons of photos everywhere. It’s as if everyone knew about our tree lots in town, but they all sort of forgot about the farm.

  Well, they haven’t forgotten now. The place has been crawling with people from open to close every single day. As we wind down and get closer to Christmas, it’s become even more intense. Not only are they shopping for trees, they’re shopping for gifts, decorations—you name it, they’re looking for it.

  And they’re seeking it out in Victoria’s store. She’s running out of inventory, and she’s damn near giddy with it. I’m happy for her. I’m happy for us, for our business. But I’m also…

  Fucking miserable.

  I miss Candice so much. I ache with the need to see her. I’m also angry with my mother. Haven’t seen her much either, after she dropped that truth bomb onto Candice and sent her fleeing into the night.

  I chased after her, but by the time I found her, she was already in her car, driving out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell. She wouldn’t even look at me. Though maybe she didn’t see me either.

  Hell, I don’t know.

  All I know is, I miss her, and I blew it. It’s over.

  We’re over.

  It’s a sunny day, though it’s cold as balls, and I’m outside at the entrance shed, trying to figure out why a set of lights won’t turn on despite the breaker being on. I’m working with Jonesie, our heads bent over the electrical panel as we keep flipping switches, when I swear I hear someone say my name.

  Standing up, I glance around, but I don’t see a familiar face, so I resume what I’m doing, Jonesie and I getting even more annoyed with each other since we can’t figure this out.

  “You are a hard man to find.” I turn to see a woman standing there, watching me. She’s pretty. Taller than Candice, with light brown eyes and golden brown hair and a lean build. She looks like if she wanted to, she might try to take me in a fight.

  “Can I help you?” I don’t recognize her at all, but for some weird reason, she makes me think of Candice.

  “I hear you like gingerbread lattes.”

  My gaze goes to the paper coffee cup she’s holding. “Where’d you hear that?”

  “I’m your gingerbread latte maker.” She holds the cup out to me. “And this is for you.”

  Wait a minute. The person who made the lattes was one of Candice’s friends, which means I have to ask… “Did you poison it?”

  She laughs and shakes her head. “No, but maybe I should’ve? You’ve made Candice pretty sad.”

  I take the cup from her and bring it to my mouth, taking a quick sip. Damn, that shit is good. “Not sure why you’re giving this to me, but thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m Stella, by the way. And I brought the coffee to you in the hopes that I could convince you to talk to me for a few minutes. I hear you’re grumpy, so I wanted to make a peace offering.”

  I frown. “Who told you I was grumpy?” Jonesie snorts behind me, but I ignore him.

  “Candice.”

  “You talking about Dolores?” Jonesie asks.

  I’m about to correct him when I remember that’s the name Candice gave to trick me to come see her. The first time she was here at the farm.

  God, it hurts to remember that moment. I’d been a total ass, she was completely adorable, and somehow she convinced me to go with her to the tree signing.

  “Yes, Dolores. Otherwise known as Candice,” I tell him.

  “She’s a cutie. Seemed way into you,” Jonesie says, oblivious of the death stare I’m currently giving him. “I like her spirit.”

  So do I.

  “She’s a wonderful human being,” Stella says, sending me a pointed look.

  I sip my latte and remain quiet.

  “She did you good, boss. Made you less grumpy,” Jonesie adds.

  “Don’t you have something you need to do?” I turn on him with a grunt of frustration.

  “I thought you wanted me to work on this.” He waves a hand at the breaker box, his expression confused.

  “Come back in fifteen. I think Victoria needs your help moving something,” I tell him, sending him on his way.

  I like Isaac Jones a lot, but he has ears and a mouth. Meaning he listens real close and likes to talk.

  A lot.

  “Why are you avoiding her?” Stella asks the moment Jonesie is out of earshot.

  “I’m not avoiding her,” I start, but Stella shakes her head, cutting me off.

  “Bullshit. You haven’t called, you haven’t texted. She’s devastated. Broken.” Stella is just zinging me right in the heart with every word she says. “You know why she keeps herself so busy during the holidays, right? So she doesn’t have to face the memories of her lost mother every year. It’s so painful for her still, even after all this time. She fills up her hours with volunteer work and decorating committees and board positions so she can keep her mind occupied and focus on giving to others for Christmas.”

  I figured that was it. After that night, when I brought her back here and we first kissed in her car—I knew she still hurt over the loss of her mom.

  Knowing she’s hurting still—hurting right now—makes me hurt too. And that I’m partially responsible for her pain?

  That makes it ten times worse.

  “All she wants to do is make other people happy. And their happiness makes her happy. Well, guess what, motherfucker? You started making her happy, she was on the freaking moon over you, Char
les.” She spits out my name, and I literally take a step back. “And then that shit with you and your mom lying to her happened, and now she’s curled up in a ball on her bed in her room at this very moment. She won’t stop watching those sappy-ass Hallmark Christmas movies, thinking they’re going to make everything better, but they’re so not. It’s awful.”

  “What do I have to do to make this right?” I ask when there’s a lull in our one-sided conversation.

  “What do you think you should do?” Stella raises her brows.

  “I wanted to go to her, but…” I stop talking, realization hitting me. This is my way. This is what I normally do. I shut down, shut people out. I chose to focus on my work keeping me busy so I wouldn’t have to feel the pain of losing Candice. And while that’s a shitty thing to do and I’m a shitty person for doing it, maybe it’s a positive thing that I can recognize my flaws?

  I explain all of that to Stella, not leaving out one detail, and her expression turns less steely with every word I say, which I take as a good sign.

  “I only have one question,” she says when I’m finished talking.

  “Go for it.”

  “Did you lie to her? About the thing your mom did to her?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I only just found out about it right before Candice did. And she was so stressed about the arts council party, I didn’t want to burden her with it. I planned on telling her a few days after the party, once everything settled down.”

  Stella nods once, seemingly satisfied with my answer. “I have one more question.”

  “What?” I ask weakly.

  “Why the hell did your mom do that?”

  I’ve been trying to figure that out myself. “I think sometimes my mother…makes rash decisions that end up biting her in the ass.”

  “More like you’re the one who got your ass bit, thanks to your mom’s decision,” Stella says with a little sniff.

  True. “It was like the night of the fundraiser, she was wanting to apologize to Candice, but it came out all wrong. Plus, she was a little drunk. I know that’s not an excuse, but I don’t know how else to explain it.”