Dirty Christmas (The Dirty Suburbs Book 9)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  A roaring laugh rips from my chest. This girl is something else. I love her fire. But she’s also genuine and enjoys making people feel good. There’s so much to like, even beneath all the crazy-sexy-beautiful on the outside.

  With a wide grin, she shrugs a shoulder. “Just keepin’ it real.”

  Right then, a short, round man with a pen in the pocket of his short sleeved, pin-stripped button down shows up at our table. He has small-town business owner written all over him. His protruding gut threatens to snap the seams of his shirt. He slaps a dishtowel over his shoulder and sets his fists on his broad hips. “Hi folks, I'm Gianni Gallo, the owner. Are you all right? I heard you had a bit of a tumble on the sidewalk.”

  Sanaya narrows her eyes at him. "Mr. Gallo, as owner of this establishment, it's your responsibility to ensure that the entrance is safe for your patrons and any member of the general public who might be passing by. You failed in that duty and my husband got hurt.”

  Okay, now I’m her husband. I admit I like where this is going but you’d think she’d run these relationship upgrades by me or something.

  The man’s posture goes defensive. “It’s not my fault that it snowed. It’s Illinois in December. People gotta be careful.”

  “All ya had to do was sprinkle some damn salt in the walkway.” My favorite little vulture gives the man a pointed look.

  I run my hand over my achy head. "I’m injured..." I groan dramatically. "So much pain..." Sanaya gives me a discreet wink.

  When the man looks her way, her grin clicks into a concerned frown. She squeezes my hand. "Poor baby..." Then she tsks at Mr. Gallo.

  He laughs. "You can't be serious." His gaze moves between the two of us. Sanaya’s eyes stay hard, not a hint of levity on her features. Mr. Gallo’s lips press into a flat line. “This is extortion.”

  Sanaya throws her head back and laughs. “You’re cute...I haven’t even stated my demands yet.”

  The man looks like he’s about to go all Mafioso on her, but she doesn’t flinch.

  “Look—we don't want to be forced to take legal action but if you remain intent on being uncooperative, then the situation will require it and we will do whatever is necessary to assert our legal rights," Sanaya explains unapologetically.”

  I reinforce her rigid stance. "I have a head-splitting headache and my back is sore. Put yourself in my shoes, Mr. Gallo.

  The old man’s eyes are frantic now. "What do you people want from me?" he asks, voice crackling with rage and apprehension.

  Sanaya steeples her fingers on the table in front of her and a wide smile dashes across her face. "Let's start with a basket of breadsticks. Warm garlic butter on the side."

  The man's expression freezes.

  And then a heavy sigh of relief shakes through his chest. He grabs two menus from a nearby server’s station and slaps them down on the table between us. "Y'know what? Whatever you eat or drink tonight is on the house."

  "Really?" Sanaya looks giddy. She rubs her hands together with glee.

  "Why not? It's Christmas." He mutters under his breath as he strolls away. "And, I don't wanna get sued."

  Choking down laughter, I lean across the table and whisper. "You really freaked out the restaurant owner. Where'd you learn those intimidation tactics anyway?"

  She beams proudly. "From Prescott. And for a little while, I worked for another lawyer. He was a real shark."

  “You should see your face right now. You’re radiating.” I shake my head.

  She shrugs a shoulder. “Hey—I love working in the legal field.”

  “As an administrative assistant?”

  Her eyes go to the ceiling and she breathes out roughly, her exuberance fading away. “I’m happy as an administrative assistant.” I notice the faint twitch of her nose and the lilt of her voice, almost like she’s trying to convince herself that that’s true.

  I reach across the table and put my hand on hers. “I don’t wanna kill your joy or anything. I’m just trying to understand you, that’s all.” I stroke my thumb along the back of her hand and try to ignore the way the hairs on the back of my neck stand at the mere contact. “You’re brilliant. You really are. And you’re bold. Tough. I think you’d make a fantastic lawyer. Hasn’t it ever crossed your mind?”

  A pained look comes to her features. “I was in law school,” she confesses with a soft chuff.

  “Really? What happened?”

  “A guy happened.” Her fingers pull through her hair. “He was an associate at the firm where I did my summer internship in New York. It was a whirlwind relationship,” she says dramatically sweeping her arm through the air and tossing her head back like an Old Hollywood starlet. I can tell that her joking is only meant to hide the deeper pain under the surface. “I was an idiot. When he decided to that he couldn’t keep up with the breakneck pace of a big New York law firm, he moved to Reyfield to practice and I followed him. Inevitably, within two months, he was bored and wanted to head back to the Big Apple. He did. I didn’t.”

  “Why didn’t you go back?”

  She shrugs. “He was a lawyer. He had options. I was barely halfway through law school. I lost my place in the law program at NYU. I lost my internship. I was too embarrassed to face my family…So, I stayed in Reyfield. Got a job as an admin assistant. The rest is history.”

  My fists clench on the table. “What a selfish jerk. I don’t even know the guy but I want to find him and punch him in the throat.”

  Flipping over her hand and intertwining her fingers with mine. “You’re sweet.” She laughs. “Anyway, I dodged a bullet. I heard he hopped from firm to firm, got married and divorced twice, and then he ended up working at a cheese factory in Wisconsin. So, I jumped off the crazy train at the perfect time.”

  Damn—she’s strong. She has every right to be bitter about this guy derailing her dreams and she just laughs it off.

  I brush a lock of hair from her face. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

  One corner of her mouth quirks up. “Everyday.” She winks.

  The spark between us is heating me up in ways I hadn’t bargained for. I don’t know just what to make of it. I drop her hand and lean back for some space. So that the levers of my brain can continue to turn. “Well, your on-the-job training has served you well. You were terrifying with that little, old restaurant owner. I was trembling in my boxers.”

  Her head tilts to the side and she bites the corner of her lip. “Boxers, huh? I would have pegged you for a briefs guy.”

  “Boxers all the way.” I smirk. “What other misconceptions about me do you have running through your pretty little head? Anything else you’d like me to clear up? Or maybe you’d like a demonstration? Tell me what you want.”

  Sanaya licks her lips at my suggestive tone and her eyes hood.

  But right then, a waiter pops up at our table to take our order. I settle for the alfredo. Sanaya? She goes hardcore.

  I look at her and shake my head after the waiter is gone. "Did you have to order every single thing on the menu?"

  I get a wide grin in response. "I most certainly did."

  "You're about to put the damn restaurant out of business," I argue.

  She shrugs. "Cheaper than a lawsuit."

  I smile at her when I realize that my backache is gone and my tension is gone. I’m actually happy to be right here, right now. I’m not wishing that I were back in California. I’m not stressed about the fact that it’s Christmas Eve. I’m just right here, right now.

  When the food shows up, Sanaya starts chowing down, starting with the calzone before moving on to the chicken parmesan and the baked ziti. We wash our meal down with way too much red wine.

  After she’s polished off the last bite of margherita pizza, she collapses against the back of her bench and rubs her belly. “Wow. Italian food is definitely better than sex."

  I find myself leaning across the table until our eyes are locked on each other. "Then you've obviously been having sex with the wrong people."<
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  Her breath hitches and for a long moment, it seems like the little firecracker may actually be speechless. She just watches me, those almond eyes transfixed to the bobbing of my Adam's apple as I swallow hard.

  I’d love to wrap her legs around my neck and polish her off for dessert.

  Chapter 5

  Sanaya

  I don’t think my heart has ever pounded so hard. My panties are a soaking mess. Wesley is leaning across the table with those dark, intent eyes on me. His gaze lingers on my mouth. I can tell he wants to kiss me. I want that, too. I want it so bad.

  Our legs brush under the table and a tremor stutters up my thighs. His large hand reaches across the table and cradles my cheek as he inches closer. My throat quivers. My breathing stops.

  Without warning, the dining room goes black. Then bright bulbs flick on over a tiny stage at the corner of the room. Our attention snaps over that way. I jolt when a puff of white confetti explodes in the room. Little flecks of unidentified white matter rain down, settling on top of my leftover chicken parmesan.

  Panic lacing his expression, Wesley grabs a napkin and clasps it over my nose. A napkin covers his own face next.

  I shrug out if his hold and laugh. “Firstly, when the plane is going down, secure your own oxygen mask first.” I flick him on the shoulder. "And secondly—it's just the fake snow." I stick out a hand and catch a few flakes of the powder to demonstrate.

  After the sort of evening we've had, I can’t blame him for being a little jumpy. He’s frowning now. "Fake snow? In the middle of the dining room? Don't they see people are eating?"

  "Lay off the existential questions, Wesley. I don't have all the answers."

  The waitress from earlier appears on the stage. Now, she’s wearing a huge poinsettia flower in her golden afro. She leans over the mike stand causing the hem of her little elf get-up to rise up the backs of her thighs. "Good evening ladies and gentlemen," she says in a flirty, lyrical voice. Her lashes flutter coquettishly. "I’m Nova, one of your devoted servers tonight." Hooting and wild applause ring out. "The kitchen is now officially closed and it looks like grumpy Mr. Gallo has gone home. You know what that means?"

  The crowd erupts into cheers. "Kristmas Karaoke!"

  A Christmas instrumental cracks through the speakers. My ears perk up. It could be the gallons of red wine freestyling through my system but karaoke sounds like hella fun right now.

  Not everyone shares my excitement, however. Across from me, I see Wesley drop his head into his hands, muffling his pained groan.

  I laugh. Because I'm having a great time. Buzzing off of great Italian food and free alcohol, I'm in the mood to party.

  Nova’s gritty voice carries a tune across the space. That waitress has a killer set of pipes on her. I've never heard a more moving rendition of Santa Looked A Lot Like Daddy.

  I turn to my unenthusiastic companion. "Dance with me."

  His head shoots up and he gives me a narrow-eyed glare. "What?"

  I look him straight in the face and grin. "Dance with me."

  Sliding out of the booth, I start shaking my hips like a bobbling Hula dashboard doll. This may or may not be sexy. I’m not sure. The alcohol is hitting me hard. I stretch out a hand to him and he looks at it like it's covered in pig feces. That makes me cackle.

  Yup—I’m drunk. Snort.

  "We should get out of here," he grumbles.

  I totter a bit in my heels. "Honey, I've imbibed far too many alcoholic beverages in the past forty-five minutes. So, I'm gonna have to pass.” I do a little twirl and barely keep my balance. “Don't drink and drive…Stay in school…Eat your vegetables."

  Wesley’s heated stare travels up and down my skin. I can't tell if he's checking me out or sizing me up. And right now, it doesn't matter because I've decided— "Fuck it—I'm going to dance."

  I throw my arms in the air and make a beeline for the dance floor. Look—I ate like a cow tonight and if I don't burn off some of these calories, I'm going to have to let out the waistband of my new Tory Burch slacks. And nobody wants that!

  "Sanaya..." He gives me a warning look.

  I chortle over my shoulder. "Watch my purse."

  It's poppin' on the dance floor. People are carefree, getting down like it's New Year's Eve. Wesley looks sullen, at the table all by himself while the rest of this small town is having a blast. His loss. Things are starting to get wild. All I know is, I’m on stage now, sharing the mic with a bunch of drunken perimenopausal women who have clearly devoted many hours to perfecting this particular skill set.

  More power to you, ladies!

  I get a little too deep in my trance. I close my eyes as I sway, making my best effort to keep up with the music. Before long, I feel his body heat crush against me. There’s a pressure against my hip. Something that feels oddly like a security guard's flashlight. Or a penis.

  I smile to myself. "Took you long enough," I drawl. I roll my body sensually.

  Words—distinctly Latin—are whispered into my ear.

  Huh?

  My head snaps back and a set of dazzling white perfect teeth flash at me. I feel a rush of disappointment because although the dark, chiseled features are very nice, this isn’t who I was hoping to see. My eyes move back to my booth and find Wesley glaring in my direction.

  The man next to me smells a whole lot like parsley. And sweat. I think I glimpsed him taking out the trash from the kitchen when I was on my way to the bathroom earlier. Anyway, he's here now, snaking his arms around my waist and pressing his body flush against mine.

  He does more of that whispering-in-Italian stuff. It would be very hot if it weren't for my burning desire for the sulky but charming man I’ve been trying unsuccessfully to lure from our table to the dance floor.

  I take a tiny step back from Don Juan, trying to politely explain to him that I’m not interested in having him hump his erection all over my leg at this point in time. A wrinkle of frustration appears on his forehead and his eyes blink with confusion. He speaks again and I still have no clue what he’s saying. His eyes dart around and then land on something on the far side of the room. A light bulb goes off. He holds up a finger, telling me to wait right here while he jogs off and snatches a bouquet of mistletoe hanging from the doorjamb.

  Wearing a grin, he returns to me. He lifts a brow in suggestion as he raises the kissing bush above my head.

  My eyes bulge. Uh-oh!

  And just as he's about to seal his lips over mine, he goes flying backward and the mistletoe gets snatched from his fingers.

  Chapter 6

  Wesley

  The crowd shrieks as that stupid Italian guy goes stumbling across the stage.

  "Hey man, what the hell? I'm tryin' to get some play over here!" He glowers at me as he straightens up, fixing his collar.

  I push Sanaya behind me and get into his face. "Dude, that's my wife you're messing with!" I grab her left hand and hold up her gaudy ring in his face.

  Sanaya's forehead crinkles up as she eyes the man. "Wait—you speak English?!"

  He scrunches his eyebrows at her. "Of course I speak English. This is Illinois, not freakin' Catalonia! You can't even buy a bus pass around here if you don't speak English!"

  Anger simmers in my belly. That asshole was trying to take advantage of her. Now, I want to rearrange his face.

  But Sanaya doesn’t need saving. I should have known. Before I can smash my fist into that asshole’s nose, she leaps up with a shout, landing a nice karate kick in his groin.

  Whoa!

  “By the way, that was Chinese,” she growls as he crouches down, holding his crotch and groaning in pain.

  Suddenly sober, she races back to our table and grabs her purse, sliding the strap across her chest. With the mistletoe clenched in my hand, I follow after her. She spins around as she shimmies into her tomato-stained jacket and tucks our half-empty wine bottle under her arm. I see her victim on stage is starting to regain his composure. The fire in his eyes says he’s ver
y interested in the prospect of revenge.

  She sees it too. "Let’s get the hell out of here!” Her fingers lock around my wrist and she pulls me through the crowd, ready to bulldoze her way through anyone who stands between her and the exit.

  My cock is insanely hard right now. This girl is badass. I can’t wait one more second to feel my lips on hers.

  I take a sudden detour, yanking her around the corner, behind the tall Christmas tree, and I squeeze her tight little body to mine. I pin her to the wall with my pelvis and she gasps when my erection twitches against her belly. "What are you doing?"

  I circle an arm around her hips as I raise the mistletoe above her head. "Finally ready to get in the Christmas spirit."