by Ranae Rose
Looked like it.
“Mallory,” Dr. Creepster said, extending a hand to brush her shoulder as he approached, clutching a drink in the other. A martini, unsurprisingly. He probably stuck to clear liquors in order to avoid staining his teeth. An enormous olive skewered by a little plastic stick lay at the bottom of the glass, the only hint of red and green.
“Hi, Dr. Anthony.” Mallory smiled politely. “Your home is beautiful, and so are the decorations.”
“Thank you.” He arched a brow. “I see you decided not to come alone, after all.”
Mallory introduced Tyler to the doctor, and vice-versa, mentioning that Tyler volunteered at the hospital.
“A volunteer. That’s nice,” Dr. Anthony said. “What do you do for work?” His gaze flickered toward Tyler’s forearms but quickly returned to Mallory.
“I tattoo at a place called Hot Ink.”
Tyler could imagine what the doctor thought of that, although really, someone who had such unnaturally white teeth should hold at least a little appreciation for body modification.
“Well, Mallory, you’ve surprised me.” The doctor inclined his head toward her, like he was conceding a point. “I wouldn’t have expected you of all people to date a tattoo artist. You always seem so serious and focused on your work. This seems more like a stunt Wanda would pull.” His grin widened.
Mallory stood a little taller as her spine stiffened, and her polite smile faded away, leaving her looking … what, disappointed? Maybe a little wary. “I am serious and focused when I’m at work. At least, I try to be. I’m not sure what that has to do with Tyler.”
Dr. Anthony laughed it off, like it was all part of a joke, and excused himself, striking up a conversation with someone who’d just walked through the front door.
“Is he always like that, or is that his tenth martini of the night?” Tyler asked, willing the stiffness to go out of his jaw.
“That was so rude of him,” Mallory said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think – I mean, he’s never said anything like that to me before.”
Yeah, and she’d probably never spent time with him outside of work before, either. There was no doubt about it – her boss wasn’t happy that she’d brought a plus one.
Tyler couldn’t even enjoy knowing he’d pissed the doctor off. His mind kept drifting back to the moment when the doctor had touched her shoulder flirtatiously. It was bullshit, a woman being treated like that by her boss. What right did he have to comment on her dating life, let alone touch her?
“Don’t worry about what he said,” Tyler told her, hating the worried look in her eyes. “My ego can handle it – I may look sensitive and delicate, but I’m no fragile flower.”
A smile cracked the surface of her apparent distress. “Want to get a drink?”
“I’ll get you one. What do you want – one of those red and green things?”
“Cranberry and vodka.”
That sounded a lot better than the Christmas cocktails everyone else was guzzling down. Drinks that looked cool usually tasted gross, in Tyler’s experience. When he went to the bar, he ordered Mallory’s drink and a beer for himself. Knowing he’d be driving home, he didn’t risk drinking anything stronger.
She took the glass with a smile and lifted it to her mouth, where the liquid shone like rubies against her lips.
“So,” she said when her drink was gone, “do you like to dance?”
Her lips were still shining with the last traces of her drink, a natural red gloss that glistened beneath the Christmas lights. The music faded as she met his eyes, and the first few notes of a new song filled the room – a slow one.
A bolt of urgency struck him instantly in his chest, spreading lower at the thought of placing his hands on her waist, holding her close. Under normal circumstances, he’d rather walk over hot coals than be forced to dance.
These were anything but normal circumstances. Reaching for her hand, he guided her over to the dance floor that had been set up to the left of the buffet.
Wanda was there, a sly look in her eyes as she got close to a tall guy with dark hair. Dr. Anthony was probably lurking somewhere on the sidelines, preying on another nurse – Tyler didn’t catch so much as a glimpse of his auburn hair anywhere. As he slid his hands to above Mallory’s hips, he forgot about everyone and everything else.
She wrapped her arms loosely around his neck, and this close he could smell her – a faint perfume that reminded him of oranges and flowers. Orange blossoms or something like that, probably. The scent was intoxicating, and so was the view afforded by the little cutout in the front of her dress.
Not that he stared. He’d leave stuff like that to Dr. Asshole, Anthony – whatever. Instead, he focused on her face. Little dots of light glowed in her dark irises, reflections of the Christmas lights that were strung all around. She was beautiful, and she looked happy…
Until the doctor came around again.
“Mind if I cut in?” he asked, though the song hadn’t even ended yet – the refrain was still playing, slowly fading.
A tiny dent appeared in Mallory’s lower lip, and her gaze flickered back and forth between Tyler and the doctor. Obviously, she didn’t want to dance with her boss. She probably didn’t want to offend him, either. That was fine, because Tyler was more than willing to do it for her.
“Yeah, I’d mind,” he said, freezing but not removing his hands from Mallory’s body.
Irritation wrinkled the doctor’s brow and doused his continual smile. “He’s awfully possessive for someone you just met, Mallory. I don’t know—”
“He’s not possessive. We’re having a good time,” she said. “We’ve only had one dance and I—”
“I know possessive when I see it,” the doctor cut her off.
Anger flared inside Tyler, the same sense of irritation that had been smoldering in his gut ever since the doctor had first touched her. It tripled when the doctor reached out, touching Mallory’s shoulder again, looking like he intended to pull her away from Tyler.
There was no way in hell.
CHAPTER 4
“Back off,” Tyler said, “and show some respect. Just because you’re her boss doesn’t mean you have the right to touch her.”
The doctor’s eyes narrowed. “And just because you managed to talk her into being your date doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do. Consider your volunteering days at the hospital over. I don’t need someone like you around my staff or my patients.”
It wasn’t the punishment the doctor seemed to think it would be – Tyler had only volunteered in the first place because of Kassie. But Dr. Anthony’s attitude was a thorn in his side – one that went deep and hit a nerve. “That’s ironic, coming from someone who treats his nursing staff like they’re names in his own private little black book.”
The doctor’s face reddened. “Mallory, you can do better than this. A lot better.” Spinning on his heel, he walked quickly away, toward the bar.
The music had picked up, filling the place with a lively tempo. A few people were dancing, but most were just staring. Whether they’d been able to hear the conversation that’d just occurred, there was no telling, but it was obvious that Tyler had pissed the party’s host off.
With the doctor gone, Tyler finally met Mallory’s eyes again. They were wide, her expression pained. “Maybe we should get going.”
“Yeah.” Something sank inside Tyler, as heavy as an anchor. “Maybe we should.”
Outside, it was snowing. Fat white flakes swirled around the doctor’s perfect house, making it look like a scene from a calendar, a perfect portrait of December. Tyler and Mallory left it behind, striding together through the cold in silence.
* * * * *
Mallory walked in on an argument – something that never happened. “Mom?” she called, stepping into the kitchen and pulling the apartment door shut.
Her mother was in the living room, on the phone. She frowned, and already, the fire in her voice seemed to be fizzling. Looking up,
she gave Mallory an acknowledging nod.
Mallory sat her purse and a couple grocery bags on the counter, then shed her coat as a sense of trepidation filled her. She’d only been gone for forty-five minutes. What had gone wrong?
It didn’t take long for her mother to end the call.
“Who was that?” Mallory asked.
“Your father.”
Mallory cringed inwardly. “What did he want?” Her father didn’t usually call her mother. Instead, he called her. A creeping sense of guilt struck her as she thought of the call she’d ignored just a few days ago. He hadn’t left a message, and she’d forgotten to call him back.
“He wants to come here on Christmas. With Vickie.”
The guilt building inside Mallory turned into an avalanche. “He can’t be serious.” Vickie was her father’s current wife – the one he’d married a few years ago, after an extramarital fling with a girlfriend had ended. That particular fling had cost him his marriage to Mallory’s mother.
So it wasn’t as if her father had cheated on her mother with Vickie. Still, Mallory knew her mother saw Vickie as the woman who’d stolen her husband, even if she didn’t say it out loud. After her father had broken up with his girlfriend, her mother had expected him to come back, repent and try to make their marriage work again. Instead, he’d moved on.
“He was serious. He said he wants to be with his family on Christmas, and it’s not fair for me to keep the three of you to myself all day.”
“Oh, for…” Mallory swore inside her head. “We’re all in our twenties, and he’s trying to fight over us with you like we’re little kids?” She’d been a teenager when her parents had divorced. She was twenty-five now. Didn’t her dad realize that? “Don’t worry about it, mom – I’ll talk to him. We’ll work something else out. I’m not going to let him and Vickie crash our celebration here.”
Her mother flashed her a smile that didn’t come anywhere close to reaching her eyes. “You don’t have to do that. Maybe you, your brother and sister should get to see your father on Christmas. I just want everyone to be happy.”
“What about you, mom?” It wasn’t the first time she’d asked her mother this question. “Has it ever occurred to you that you deserve to be happy, too?”
As expected, her mother brushed off the question. “I don’t want to start a feud. Not on Christmas.”
“I’ll handle it. And it won’t be a feud. Dad doesn’t have any right to ask you to have him and Vickie here for the holidays. I’m sure he knows that, deep down.”
Mallory retreated to her room, pulling out her phone before her mother could protest.
“Hi dad,” she said when her father’s voice resounded from the other end of the connection.
“Mallory.” The cheerful tone of his voice stood in stark contrast to the notes of distress that had resounded in her mother’s. “I was just talking to your mother. Looks like I’ll be seeing you on Christmas – that’s just around the corner.”
“About that,” she said. “You know I plan to visit you soon. We always see each other during the holidays. But you and Vickie can’t be here on Christmas.”
“Why not?” For all the world, he sounded hurt – like he really didn’t understand.
“Because it would crush mom, that’s why.”
“Mallory…” Her dad adopted the same exasperated tone he’d used when she’d begged him for a kitten or a puppy as a child. “Your mother is a reasonable adult. She’s perfectly—”
“No, dad. I mean it – no big family dinner here on Christmas. Haven’t you hurt her enough?” She didn’t like to berate her father – if she gave in to the anger she harbored over his betrayal, she wouldn’t be able to handle having him in her life. For over a year after his extramarital activities had come to light, she’d barely spoken to him. Eventually he’d apologized, and gradually, she’d opened up to communicating again…
Sometimes he made her wonder whether he’d changed at all over the past several years.
“Don’t drag that into this. I know what I did was wrong, but all that is ancient history now.”
“It’s not ancient history to mom.” She hated the truth of her words, hated that her mother had never gotten over her husband’s infidelity, the dissolution of her marriage. It wasn’t fair that her father was happy with a new wife while her mother still ached for what she’d lost, her physical health lessening along with her will to enjoy anything like a full life. And it definitely wasn’t fair that her father wanted to rub it all in her face, on Christmas of all days.
Even if they were no longer together, he’d been married to her for years… How could he be so blind to how his behavior hurt her?
“Look,” she said, infusing her voice with firmness that was at odds with the stinging pressure hovering around the corners of her eyes, “there’s no way you and Vickie are coming here for Christmas. It’s a bad idea. We’ll work something else out.”
After a few moments of silence, he agreed.
“I’ll call you sometime soon to make other plans.” She bid him goodbye and ended the call before she could lose her grip on her self-control.
A few angry tears lurked behind her eyes, but she stared resolutely ahead, dry-eyed, refusing to give in and sniffle over what she couldn’t change. As she simmered silently on her mother’s behalf, her thoughts whirled back to the night before, and her anger took a darker turn.
Her dad. Dr. Anthony. Why did the men in her life – men she should’ve been able to look up to – have to act like such jackasses?
Dr. Anthony had embarrassed her in front of everyone the night before. She had no doubt that what had been said between him and Tyler would be the subject of hospital gossip for weeks, if not months. She didn’t even want to think about facing him next time she was at work. And poor Tyler…
He probably regretted ever agreeing to go to the party with her. She never would’ve asked him if she’d known how Dr. Anthony would act. Sure, he and Tyler were apples and oranges, but she’d never imagined that her boss would treat Tyler like he was a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe. Thinking back to how rumors of Dr. Anthony’s unwanted attention had inspired her to invite Tyler to the party in the first place, she felt beyond horrible.
She’d apologized for Dr. Anthony’s behavior after the party, but it didn’t seem like enough. Still, Tyler hadn’t cancelled their date for tonight – the one where he’d be taking her to the Hot Ink Christmas party. Her stomach knotted up at the thought of seeing him again, and a few butterflies tried to flutter through the convoluted mess her middle had been reduced to. Somehow, she had to smooth things over, had to make it up to Tyler.
But first, she had to talk to her mother. “Mom?” she called, emerging from her bedroom and into the hall.
Her mother was sitting on the couch, the phone still in hand, not looking any happier than before.
“I talked some sense into dad. He and Vickie won’t be coming here on Christmas – it’ll be just me, you, Danielle and Kevin, like we planned.”
Her mother nodded but didn’t say anything, didn’t smile.
“Mom, are you hot?” In the living room now, Mallory could make out a shiny layer of sweat on her mother’s forehead. Instantly, suspicions jumped to the forefront of her mind. The apartment wasn’t overly warm, not even to her, and she was wearing a thick sweater. Her mom, on the other hand, wore a long-sleeved cotton top that was significantly lighter. Striding forward, she reached for one of her mother’s hands.
“Mom, you’re shaking. When was the last time you ate?”
Her mother shrugged.
“Did you eat lunch?”
“I don’t really recall…”
That meant no. Mallory winced, but criticism would get her nowhere now. “You’re hypoglycemic. You need to eat something, right now.”
Her mother must have sensed Mallory’s worry, because she reached out and patted her arm with one trembling hand. “I’m fine.”
“I’ll get you
something.” Mallory retreated to the kitchen, opened the fridge and pulled an apple from a drawer, slicing it quickly.
“I’ll make dinner before I leave – I’ll get something started now,” Mallory said as she presented her mother with a plate bearing the sliced apple.
“I’ll get something together on my own.”
Yeah, just like she had for lunch. “Mom, this is probably the first time you’ve eaten anything all day, isn’t it? You know you need to take better care of yourself than this.” Knowing she’d hurt her mother’s already damaged feelings, she tried to talk her into joining her in the kitchen and helping her try out a new recipe.
It didn’t work. As Mallory retreated to the kitchen alone, her mother remained in the living room, looking sad. Mallory felt the heartbreak her father’s call had incited like a physical presence. It filled the room like a heavy fog and made everything seem darker.
* * * * *
“A party? Nice.”
Tyler turned slowly to face Dustin, who’d been lounging around the apartment watching TV when Tyler had arrived home from Hot Ink an hour ago. “Yeah. What are you gonna do while I’m gone – visit mom and dad?”
Dustin’s face contorted in an expression of betrayal. “No! Figured I’d hit up the party with you.”
“It’s not that kind of party – it’s a work thing.”
“Yeah, but you work at a tattoo studio. I bet the parties are badass.”
Tyler contemplated showing Dustin the glittery gingerbread man invitation Karen had given him. “It’s not what you’re imagining – trust me.” Jed’s parties were low key compared to the frat boy debaucheries Dustin lived for – events that were more likely than not to end in someone having their stomach pumped and / or getting knocked-up.
Thank God. Tyler was too old for that shit. At 29, he was seven years Dustin’s senior, but the age gap felt even wider. Jed’s get-togethers were laid-back, just the Hot Ink staff and a few plus ones. There were drinks and they all had fun, but nobody got crazy. “Anyway, you’re not coming.”
