All I Want For Christmas Is You

by Vi Keeland, Penelope Ward, Samantha Young, Aurora Rose Reynolds, Lani Lynn Vale, TL Swan, Natasha Madison

  I shouldn’t have agreed to this lunch date in the first place, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself when it came to her. I felt bad for her.

  She truly was a mean person. But when I met her a few months ago when I got home, she’d somehow gotten me my new job… and I couldn’t blow her off after she’d done something so great for me.

  “Fine. But you’re paying. I paid last time.” Brielle stood up and left her trash on the table.

  “Are you going to throw all of that away?” I asked curiously, not bothering to argue with her ‘I paid last time’ comment. She was wrong. I’d paid last time, too. At some point, I was going to have to stop being grateful that she’d found me a job.

  She looked at the table, then the trash can only a few feet away.

  “No,” she said. “That’s not my job to do, it’s theirs.”

  I nearly rolled my eyes but chose to pick her trash up instead. Mine, I packed back into my bag and rolled it up before tucking it into my purse.

  Just as I was about to push out of the hospital lunchroom door, Brielle caught my attention once again.

  “You have toilet paper on your shoe.”

  I looked down and, sure enough, I did have toilet paper on my shoe.

  And something brown was on it.

  Gross.

  I kicked my leg and attempted to flick the tissue off.

  I stepped out of the way as I tried to get stupid toilet paper off without touching it as the door at my back was pushed open and an amused man said, “Need help?”

  I looked up into the piercing green eyes—eyes that practically glowed with enjoyment—of Saint Nicholson, and froze.

  His chestnut color hair was curly and beautiful, and I practically itched to sink my fingers into the locks. To wind a couple of those curls around my fingers. And holy God, he was wearing black, horn-rimmed glasses. Where had those come from?

  “I’ll make it,” I grumbled, trying not to allow my eyes to slide down the length of his body like I wanted to.

  But, it was inevitable.

  The man was hot as fuck.

  He was tall, way taller—by at least a foot—than my five-foot-three. He was bigger around, too.

  Where I had curves, he had lean hardness.

  Where I had fat, he had nothing but muscle.

  And the uniform he was wearing only added to his sexiness.

  I had a thing for cops.

  I’d dated three in my life.

  None seriously or anything. A couple of months each.

  But none of them had been as drop-dead gorgeous as the man currently grinning at me.

  He moved forward, pressing his body close to mine, and then stepped onto the toilet paper with his booted foot.

  His big, booted foot.

  Like, way bigger than my size sevens.

  Just as quickly as his body touched mine, he was away from me, and the toilet paper was no longer clinging to my foot.

  He’d taken a step back, closer to the counter, when a screaming man hustled into the room.

  And his eyes were aimed on Brielle.

  “You bitch!” the man yelled, shoulder-checking me on the way to get into Brielle’s face.

  Brielle flinched and backed away, her back hitting the counter where she’d been standing next to me watching me struggle.

  Before the man could get into Brielle’s face, however, Saint had him by the arm and he was hauling him backward.

  The barista behind the counter, a young man in his early twenties who’d grudgingly served Brielle despite her nastiness to him, watched in interest.

  The only two other people in the room, a mother and daughter, stood up from their table.

  “Whoa,” Saint said as he took hold of the man’s arm and pushed him backward so that he wasn’t crowding either Brielle or me too closely.

  “Get the fuck out of my face, moron,” Brielle snapped. “Why are you even here?”

  “Why am I here?” he growled. “I’m here because you set me up with someone that has goddamn Ebola! Now I’m in quarantine, or supposed to be, for the next three weeks! And if I have to be there, so the fuck do you!”

  Saint let go of his arm as if he had, well, Ebola.

  “Ladies, gentlemen,” a guy wearing a yellow decontamination suit said. “You’ll have to come with me.”

  The man sneered at Brielle. “This is all your fucking fault. Would it have fucking killed you to go out on a date with me? You had to send me on a fake date?”

  I had no clue what was going on, but I wasn’t sure that I was going to like it.

  • • •

  “What do you mean?” I asked, looking at the man in front of me with alarm.

  “You’ve been exposed,” the man from the Center for Disease Control, Jace Levine, said.

  I looked over at Saint to see him staring at Jace with alarm.

  “But it’s Christmas!” the mother with the young daughter said. “We won’t be out of here until Christmas!”

  Well, it was December first, actually. But still, she was right.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” Jace apologized as he looked at her, then at all of us. “But this isn’t really something that I’m able to control. You have to be quarantined to prevent the spread of this virus. And here, we can watch all of you to make sure that you’re doing what you should be doing.”

  In all, there were eight of us that were ‘exposed.’

  Saint and me, Brielle, the mother and daughter duo, Misha and Tisha. The man that exposed us all, Martin, the barista, Tate, and the security guard that had been guarding the hospital entrance, Darrel.

  “You’ll all be put into rooms,” he said. “After today, you will no longer have contact with anybody but your roommate.”

  I prayed hard that I wouldn’t be stuck with Brielle. For the love of God, I’d kill her.

  “Do we get to keep our electronic devices? Do we get to go home and get our things?” Brielle asked.

  “You have what you have on you,” Jace said, “for now. We’ll be bringing you all provisions. Changes of clothes. Toiletries. Things of that nature.”

  “What about tampons?” I asked. “I’m gonna need those today.”

  Jace looked taken aback for a long moment, then nodded. “Medical supplies as needed, yes. I’ll get you those things today.”

  All of this was said from behind his protective equipment.

  He was sweating badly, and he looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

  So did all of us, now that I thought about it.

  “Who are we pairing up with?” Tate asked.

  “You two.” He pointed at Tate and Darrel. “You two.” He pointed at Misha and Tisha. “You two.” He pointed at Saint and me. “And you two.” He pointed at Martin and Brielle.

  “Oh, hell no!” Martin argued.

  “You two are the most likely to be contagious.” Jace shrugged. “We have obtained a hotel for y’all to be quarantined in. Now, we are going to transport you all to your rooms,” he ordered as he gestured to the exit of the cafeteria.

  They had us in a hotel. One that hadn’t opened yet, actually. We were transported by ambulance to the new location, put through rigorous decontamination then escorted to our new homes for the next three weeks.

  It was brand new, and out of all the rooms it had, the ones at the very top, the executive suites, were the only ones open.

  “I’m not pairing up with him for three weeks! I’ll go with her!” Brielle pointed at me.

  Saint, God love him, hooked his arm around me. “Sorry, but my fiancée and me are going to be together. We’re not separating.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized that, despite our differences, he wasn’t going to let me go.

  Thank God.

  Over the last year that I’d known Saint, especially the last four months that I’d been home, I’d made it a priority to give him shit every time that I saw him. He’d made it a point to give it right back.

  And, from what I’d l
earned, he didn’t give shit to anybody but me.

  Which made me feel special in a way.

  “What?” Brielle screeched. “You’re getting married?”

  Four more yellow-suited people came into the room then, all coming up to us.

  We’d been showered, changed, decontaminated to the best of their abilities, and now they were leading us to our jail cells for the next three weeks.

  Without another word, we followed the silent man that led us to the top suite at the very end of the hallway.

  He opened the door with a code, then gestured for us to go inside.

  “After you,” he said.

  We went inside, and without another word, the door slammed shut behind us.

  We both turned to look at the closed door, then back at each other.

  “Holy fuck,” he said, shaking his head.

  Grab your copy now!

  FOLLOW LANI LYNN VALE

  www.lanilynnvale.com

  Facebook

  Instagram

  Twitter

  Holly

  The buzzing of my phone wakes me and I glance at the clock, it’s 5 am.

  I pick it up, the name Clancy lights up the screen. “Hi.”

  “Oh my God,” she splutters.

  I frown at the sound of her voice. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’ve been up vomiting all night.”

  “Oh no, you poor thing. Are you okay?” I wince.

  “No, I’m literally on my deathbed.”

  “You should probably go to the hospital then, less messy to clean up your dead body.” I smile, relieved that it’s only that.

  “This isn’t funny.”

  I rub my eyes. “Sorry. So, I take it you’re not coming in today?” Clancy is my PA, the best damn one I ever had.

  “I can’t, I’m so sorry.”

  “That’s okay,” I sigh.

  “It’s not. You’ll have to cancel Alaska.”

  I screw up my face in horror as I remember today’s itinerary. “Shit, I can’t.”

  “Well, you can’t go alone.”

  I close my eyes. “I’ll get Joel to come.”

  “Joel starts his time off today, remember?”

  “Fuck.”

  “What about Melissa?” she asks.

  “Are you kidding me?” I sigh. Melissa is Clancy’s assistant, and she drives me crazy. She flirts with every man she comes into contact with, to the point that it’s embarrassing.

  “It’s three nights, surely you can handle her for three nights?”

  “No, actually. I can’t.”

  “I’ll tell her to behave.”

  “I’ll just go alone.”

  “This is a major meeting, Holly. You can’t.”

  “Clancy, I love you, but you are aware that I can do my job without you, right?”

  “I know that,” she scoffs.

  “Stop underestimating me and go back to bed,” I smirk. I’ve worked my ass off to get where I am. Years and years of blood sweat and tears has lead me to be the head of acquisitions for Ferrara Media, New York. I’m Gabriel Ferrara’s right-hand woman. I know my job and I do it well, and tomorrow, I have a meeting in Anchorage, Alaska, to close a multi-million dollar deal on the sale of the local television station. “Can you email me the flight details, please,” I ask.

  “Okay so, you’re flying commercial because Gabriel leaves in the company plane for Italy today to visit his family.”

  I roll my eyes; this is just getting better by the second. “Yes, I remember,” I reply. “Email me the details of hotels, etc.”

  “Are you sure you can go alone?”

  “I’m not a baby,” I snap, exasperated. Clancy has become a tad overprotective.

  “I’m pretty sure after the last eighteen months I can handle two days in Alaska on my own.”

  “No doubt,” she says. “The car will meet you at the other end and I’ll detail everything in the email. Call me whenever you need me.”

  “Okay.” Clancy’s been my rock and has become one of my closest friends. Eighteen months ago, my husband of ten years was imprisoned for insider trading, and if that wasn’t devastating enough, having his private life dragged through the courts was the ultimate betrayal. He played me like a fiddle, the real Wolf of Wall Street. He was the rock star stockbroker, the Harvard lawyer who came from one of the most respected families in New York. Handsome, wealthy and powerful.

  And I was the fool, so blinded by love that I had absolutely no idea of who I was really married to. The press covered the stories of his embezzlements, blackmail, Cocaine, high end prostitutes and oh, there’s the small matter of a love child he had with another woman two years ago, that he wanted to know nothing about. It was revealed in the courts that he paid the mother out to never reveal his identity to the boy. What kind of man deserts his own child?

  While I was working my ass off to get us ahead, he was ripping people off and fucking around.

  Asshole.

  “I’m sorry, that flight is closed.”

  “What?” I frown as I glance at my watch. “What do you mean? I still have plenty of time.”

  “It’s out of my hands.” The airport attendant shrugs. “It closed ten minutes ago.”

  I close my eyes in horror. Fuck. “I have to be in Anchorage tomorrow,” I say.

  “Nothing I can do,” she says casually.

  I run my hands through my hair as I begin to feel my temperature rise. “Okay, can I get onto another flight please?”

  The attendant types into the computer and reads the screen. “Unfortunately, there isn’t another vacant seat until Friday.”

  “How is that possible?” My eyes widen in horror. “What do you mean? That’s three days away.”

  “You’re flying to Anchorage in Alaska.”

  “And?”

  “And limited amount of flights go there.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Oh… this is just great.” On my way to the airport this morning I found out that there has been a counter offer by Miles Media and I need to get there urgently to close the deal before Tristan Miles swoops in and steals it from under me.

  “Sorry.”

  Fuck’s sake. “Umm, okay.” I try to think of a solution. “What other airlines fly to Anchorage?”

  “Only two others, American and United. And they have both tried to get seats on our flight on Friday as they oversold their seats.”

  “So, they’re full, too?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  I stare at her flatly. “Out of JFK in New York…. the biggest airport in America, only three airlines go there?” I scoff.

  “Anchorage seems like a very popular destination.”

  “Apparently so.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. “This is a disaster.”

  I text Clancy.

  Can you get me a charter, please?

  I missed the flight.

  No flights available until Friday.

  She types into her computer and reads the screen. “I could get you onto a flight to Fairbanks, Alaska, in an hour. But there is only one seat left and if you don’t get it now, it may sell out, too.”

  I glance at my phone waiting for Clancy’s reply. She hasn’t read my message, which means she isn’t on her phone, which means she’s probably throwing up right now.

  Shit, the poor girl is probably throwing up right now. She can’t organise a fucking emergency charter plane, she’s too unwell.

  The woman on the desk continues to type while reading out the information. “From there you could hire a car and drive the rest of the way. I mean it’s not ideal, but it would get you there for tomorrow.”

  “How long is the drive from Fairbanks to Anchorage?” I ask.

  She googles it. “It says here seven hours.”

  “What time does the flight get into Fairbanks?”

  “Six o’clock this evening. You could rent a car and use google maps and still make it by near midnight.”

  I stare
at her as I go over my options.

  “You could call ahead and rent yourself a car,” she says to try and be helpful. “It might actually be fun?”

  “I guess.” I force a smile. Or I can just arrange for a car to pick me up. “Okay, I’ll take that flight. Thank you.” It will be easy from there, a lot easier than it is from here. At least I’ll be in the right state.

  She types into her computer and then hands me the ticket. “You need to hurry; the flight is just about to board.”

  I read the bold writing.

  JFK – FAIRBANKS, ALASKA

  “Good luck.” She smiles.

  “Thanks.” I give her a weak wave and make my way through security as I email Melissa. I’ll leave Clancy alone to be sick in peace.

  I need a transfer from Fairbanks Airport, Alaska.

  Arrival 6 pm local time.

  To be driven to Anchorage, Alaska.

  I missed my flight.

  Boarding now, will check in on arrival.

  Ten long hours later, I stand at Fairbanks Airport and look around. Everyone is just wandering around as if on vacation, nobody seems in a rush and to top it all off, the transfer isn’t here. “I hate incompetence,” I whisper under my breath. “This is the worst fucking day of all time.” I take my phone out and call Melissa. It rings out.

  My blood boils and I call her again, it rings out again and I leave a message on her voice mail. “Hello Mellissa, this is Holly Moran, my transfer isn’t at the airport. Where did you ask them to pick me up from? Am I supposed to be waiting in the arrival lounge or out front?” I look around in hope of seeing someone with a small sign. “Call me back immediately,” I say sharply. “I’m in the middle of nowhere here.” I hang up in disgust and dial Clancy’s number. She answers on the first ring.

  “Hi Hol.”

  “Hey, sorry to bother you.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “Are you feeling any better?”

  “Yes, a little. Where are you?”

  “In the middle of Bumfuck nowhere, do you know who Melissa booked my transfer through? They haven’t turned up.”

  “What do you mean Melissa?”