Be My Christmas Treat : A BWWM Christmas Romance

by Nia Arthurs

  “That’s it?” Stacie gawks.

  “What more do we need? When our handsome captain says jump, I’m jumping.”

  I roll my eyes. “Just because you like him doesn’t mean you have to agree with everything he does. Even you have to see that this Christmas strike is ridiculous.”

  “This,” Leona gestures to the bare walls, “is called being inclusive. We’re thinking of all those people who don’t celebrate Christmas. Imagine how welcome they’ll feel in here.”

  “You realize even some atheists celebrate Christmas, right?”

  “And how hypocritical is that?” Leona crosses her arms while smirking.

  All I can do is shake my head at her.

  “It’s just… weird not to have Christmas decorations during Christmas, but hey. To each his own, I guess.” Stacie pulls her beanie over thick Siamese braids and throws up a peace sign. “See you guys tomorrow.”

  “Later, Stace.” Leona waves.

  I smile at her. “Thanks for your help.”

  The bell jangles cheerfully as the younger woman steps outside and disappears down the sidewalk.

  I grab the tongs and transport the pastries from the tray to the rack. “Mave agreed to let us put up a Christmas tree at least.”

  “Did you have to cry to change his mind?”

  “Nope. And I don’t think tears would have done much anyway.” I squeeze the fresh pastry and arrange it beautifully in the display case. “He was being so stubborn. It’s honestly annoying. What kind of sadistic person hates Christmas?”

  “You sound curious.”

  I shrug. “I don’t care. As long as he pays me on time and doesn’t do anything to jeopardize my hours, I’ll tolerate him.”

  “Good. Tolerance is acceptable, but any romantic feelings are banned. I called dibs. He’s mine.”

  “He’s not a donut, Leona.”

  She licks her lips. “No, but I’d like to take a bite out of him anyway.”

  I stare at her.

  She glances at me.

  We both burst out laughing.

  “Can you give me that paper bag?” I ask, still chuckling. “I need to set aside some of these pastries.”

  “For Vulture?” She snarls. “Did he boss you around again? Ugh. I’ve never seen a man get so butt-hurt after being turned down. And you were way more polite than I would have been. I would have totally annihilated him.” She shakes her head. “If anyone needs to choke on a cookie, it’s him.

  “It’s not for Vulture. It’s for my nieces.” The warm treats slip into the bag with a plop. “They’ll be devastated when they find out we’re not selling our Christmas cookies anymore.”

  “It’s not like they’ll be unavailable elsewhere.” Leona hops onto her chair behind the cash register.

  “Yeah, but I promised them that we had a ton of cookies at work and I’d always bring some when I could.”

  Just then, the bell over the door jangles.

  I glance up casually.

  Then the customer’s face registers in my head.

  I double back, my eyes widening.

  A tall, handsome man with dark chocolate skin and plump lips swaggers into the bakery. Broad shoulders strain against a plush coat and his jean-clad legs eat up the space between the door and the counter.

  Leona whistles under her breath. “Hello.”

  “Hey.” The man who slept with my sister and then ghosted when she told him she was pregnant stands in front of me. His lips inch into a nervous smile. “Clark, long time no see.”

  “Oh.” Leona’s eyes widen.

  “Levonte.” I blow out a deep breath.

  “You look great.” His eyes graze my body.

  I fold my arms over my chest. “You have three seconds before I throw you out.”

  “Can we talk?” He sweeps Leona a charming grin and leans over the table to speak in a lower tone. “In private.”

  “No.”

  “It’s important.” He insists.

  I fold my arms over my chest, annoyed at the very sight of him. It’s only the thought of my precious nieces that keeps me from cussing Levonte out from here to the sidewalk. This jerk is their father and there’s not much I can do to change that.

  “Fine.”

  Leona stares at us like she’s two seconds away from grabbing popcorn to enjoy the show.

  Untying my apron, I set it down and ease around the counter. “Tell Rosa I’ll be back later to help her clean up. This won’t take long.”

  “Got it,” Leona says breathlessly, her eyes glued to Levonte.

  “Let’s get this over with,” I snap. Stalking forward, I crash through the door and the bells jangle loudly in protest.

  Although I try to hurry ahead, Levonte has no problems staying in stride with me.

  I turn into an alley close to the bakery and look up. “Alright. What did you crawl all the way here to tell me?”

  “Don’t you want to get out of the cold?” He rubs his gloveless hands together. “Come on. I’ll buy you coffee.”

  “I don’t want anything from you, Levonte. Just tell me what you’re here for. If it’s for something stupid, I swear—”

  “I need to borrow some money.”

  My eyes widen and I’m almost sure I’ve heard wrong. “W-what did you just say?”

  “I’m in a bit of trouble with my clothing business.” He rubs the back of his head. “And I didn’t know who else to call.”

  “So you call me?”

  “I know you have that bakery you’re saving up for. And I’m good for it.”

  “My funds have nothing to do with you, Levonte.” I hiss, becoming more and more aggravated by the fact that he’d think this request—no, this conversation is okay. “Why would I help you? You knocked up my sister and bailed when she needed you. Twice.”

  “I need to make it this time, Clark. There’s even more riding on me now.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He winces. “Maxine is pregnant.”

  The bottom drops out of my stomach.

  The world tilts just a little to the left.

  “What did you just say?”

  He kicks his sneakers against the snow. “I figured she wouldn’t have told you, but it’s the truth.”

  “Maxine is pregnant?” I scream. “For you?”

  He nods.

  The wind that’s knocked out of me leaves an empty space, but anger fills that vacuum up to the brim.

  I’m going to kill my sister.

  7

  Mave

  Clark hates me.

  I’m not sure why. I’ve kept my end of the deal. She’s got a big old pine tree wedged into the corner of the bakery, its boughs laden with tiny, hand-crafted decorations.

  Clark still managed to weasel a little Christmas into the store.

  She calls it the ‘Christmas Wishing Tree’. Rather than ornaments, customers are given a pen and a card cut out to the shape of a snowflake to write their wishes.

  The kids love it and I think it’s a genius idea—a sentiment that Clark didn’t seem to appreciate when I told her.

  To be honest, I’m glad she’s keeping her distance because I sure can’t. Every time she scowls at me or glares in my direction, my heart does a funny flip and I have the uncontrollable urge to tease her.

  I’m starting to look forward to our conversations though, I suspect, she doesn’t.

  Clark’s the only one who seems to have an issue with me. I’ve won over every other woman in the building.

  Knowing I don’t like sweets, Rosa brings a small batch of her homemade apple cider every few days. And, for the past week, Leona drops by my office to strike up a conversation whenever she can.

  But Clark?

  She scrunches her nose whenever I come around. I get one, maybe two full words out of her when we happen to bump into each other during the day. I’m the Grinch in her eyes and it’s pretty clear she has no interest in me.

  Which only fans the flames of my fascin
ation with her.

  I’m determined to win her over within the month.

  One week down, four to go.

  The beginning of my second week at the bakery, I walk into the store and almost get barreled over by Leona. She bounces on me, her eyes wild and her grin big enough to be seen from Mars.

  “Mave, you didn’t!” she shrieks.

  My brows knit. “What did I do?”

  “This!” She turns and shoves her cell phone at me.

  I peer at the picture of a gorgeous blonde, sitting in her high-rise apartment, a box of Aunt Lee’s pastries on the table in front of her as she stares moodily into a golden sunset.

  “Lexi the Sexy shouted out our bakery.” Leona squeals. “How did that happen?”

  “She must have stopped by lately,” I say with a shrug.

  “That’s impossible. I’m here every day and I would’ve recognized her. Something’s up.”

  “How strange,” I murmur.

  Leona clasps her hands together. “You had something to do with it, didn’t you?”

  I shrug. “Maybe.”

  Lexi’s a friend of mine. We met at a Hollywood producer’s party. She was getting pawed at by the host of the gala and I stepped in to help her out. She’s been itching to pay me back for the deed. It wasn’t a big stretch to ask her for a favor.

  “And I thought you couldn’t get any hotter.”

  Leona’s praise barely makes an impression. All it took was one lunch with Lexi to secure the deal. And I’ve got plenty more social media stars lined up to advertise the bakery.

  My lavish lifestyle put me in touch with a ton of influencers. They’re the ‘new money’ kids, often shooting into stardom and wealth because of a trend they managed to cultivate and profit from.

  I can spot new money immediately. They’re usually the ones flashing the latest vehicles and talking nonstop about their latest purchase. The wealth doesn’t sit comfortably on them. It’s almost as if they feel the need to prove they belong to our circle.

  That desperation makes them the perfect target for people who want to take advantage. I usually step in whenever I see someone trying to pull the wool over their eyes.

  It’s not because I’m the paragon saint my mother was. I make no claims for that, but I do know what it’s like to feel like someone sitting on the outside.

  Growing up, I faced my share of bullying. Nothing like a double family tragedy to really hammer in how different you are from everyone else.

  Whispers that I was cursed filtered through the hallways of my middle school. There was even a rumor that direct eye contact with me would bring ten years of bad luck.

  I endured it until I graduated, but high school gave me an opportunity to reinvent myself. Healthy eating, braces, a focus on sports and weightlifting. My identity got a much-needed facelift.

  Gone was the loser who ate by himself at lunch. Every girl wanted to sleep with me. Every jock wanted to be my friend. The party didn’t start until I entered the room, and no one dared to gossip about me again.

  At least not to my face.

  But popularity didn’t change the core of who I was. Highschool bullies answered to me and I was never shy about defending the underdog, especially when they had no one else on their side.

  “I knew it!” Leona latches herself on to me, her eyes sparkling. “Clark said you were a useless lug, but I defended you.” She thrusts her fist high. “I knew you could lead us, captain. I’m glad to know I was right.”

  I chuckle. “Clark called me a lug?”

  “Along with a few choice words.” Leona steps back. “She hasn’t forgiven you for the Christmas decorations.”

  “Hm.”

  Just then, Clark steps out of the kitchen, carrying a tray of pastries.

  She catches sight of me.

  Her eyes narrow immediately.

  I smile. Give her a chin up greeting.

  She scoffs in response.

  My heart starts thumping so hard I’m sure every customer in the building can hear it.

  I call loudly to her. “Afternoon, Clark.”

  With a huff, Clark shoves the pastries beneath the counter.

  She and Rosa have been working longer shifts now. I’ve dipped into my own bank account to make sure they’re properly compensated.

  The store benefits from having fresh pastries in the afternoon and I benefit because I get to tease Clark until closing.

  I watch her with a grin. Something about this woman makes me want to get beneath her skin. Whether she knows it or not, that fire in her eyes is sexy and I’m helplessly drawn to it.

  Leona tugs on my arm. “Mave, you’re going to introduce me to Lexi, right? I’d love to meet her.”

  “Maybe.” I push Leona off and stride toward Clark.

  She doesn’t bother looking up when I lean my elbow on the counter.

  I wait for her to glance at me before saying, “I’m not going to ask you to smile, but you should know that frowning gives you wrinkles.”

  “Is that you, Mave?” She squints, holding a hand to her forehead as if searching for something in the distance. “You’ve been missing work so often I’ve forgotten what you look like.”

  “I haven’t been gone that much.”

  “You were missing last Wednesday and Thursday. You didn’t come in until two p.m. on Friday and Saturday.”

  “You keeping tabs on me, Clark?”

  “I’m sure you’d like that, but no. I barely notice you.”

  “Now I know you’re lying.” I show her my profile, stroking my chin to emphasize my jawline. “Who could ignore a face like this?”

  “Is this the part where I puke?”

  I laugh. “If you missed me, you can just say so. You don’t have to suffer in silence.”

  “The only time I suffer is when you distract me from my work.”

  “I distract you, huh? That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  “You need to get your head checked.”

  “Look inside.” I lower my head and show her my hair. “All you’ll find is thoughts of you.”

  “Mave, if you think those lines work on women, you need more than a check-up. You need to be institutionalized.”

  “Clark,” I lower my voice to a rumble, “you know I love it when you throw your big vocab at me.”

  Leona rounds the counter and wiggles Clark to the side. “Did you hear? Mave got Lexi the Sexy to promote our bakery.”

  Clark arches an eyebrow, a hint of shock in her gaze. “Really?”

  “That’s why he’s been out so much. He’s lining up brand ambassadors for the bakery. Isn’t that cool?”

  If I expect Clark to be impressed, I’m sorely disappointed.

  She narrows her eyes at me. “In other words, you’re schmoozing with social media celebrities on the company dime.” Fluttering thick eyelashes, she asks, “Should I crack open the bubbly?”

  “Is this the thanks I get for all my efforts? I’ve never worked this hard in my life.”

  “It’s the least you could do.” She picks up an empty tray, her voice cracking slightly. “Some of us have been working this hard since birth.”

  I grip her arm gently to hold her in place, the amusement gone from my voice. “Hey, you okay? You’ve been in a real bad mood lately.”

  “Maybe you just bring that out of me,” she snaps.

  I tilt my head to the side. Normally, our fights edge on playful, but I sense that something’s really weighing her down. It’s there in her voice and in the worry lines between her eyebrows.

  “No, this is something more.”

  She stares me down. “You think you know me that well?”

  I know her more than she’d expect. I’ve been watching Clark everyday for almost a week and a half now. Whenever I happen to bump into her at the bakery, my eyes drink her in like a dying man in the desert.

  I know the little face she makes when she bakes something to her standards. I know the pout that crosses her expressio
n when she’s unhappy with her work.

  I know the sound of her humming in the afternoon when she’s trying to keep herself awake. And I know the tapping of her feet when she’s impatiently waiting for supplies to arrive.

  She hasn’t been humming for a while. And the impatient tapping echoes through the hallway even when she’s not waiting at the back door for supplies.

  I lean closer, my eyes intent on her. “Is something wrong?”

  “No.” Her gaze flickers away.

  “You sure?”

  “Why do you care?” Leona asks in an almost accusatory tone.

  Before I can answer that, the bell above the door jangles.

  Vulture swaggers into the bakery, his beady eyes cutting into me. “Mave.”

  “Vultan,” I say flatly.

  Leona scurries to hide behind the cash register.

  Clark’s eyes harden and it relieves me to know that, though she might not like me, she dislikes Vulture even more.

  “We need to talk,” Vulture snaps, gesturing to the kitchen door as if he owns the place.

  I sigh heavily. “Do you have an appointment?”

  “Does this look like the nail salon?” He laughs. “Why do I need an appointment to visit my own store?”

  “I didn’t see your name on the sign.” I scowl.

  “All you need to know,” he pokes my chest, “is that I’m your superior. Right, Clark?" He glances past me to smile leeringly at her.

  Clark frowns. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

  Vulture lunges around the counter and stands in her way. “You’re not going to greet me?”

  She tilts her head. Stares him right in the eyes. Says, “No.”

  Vulture gasps.

  She stalks off, leaving him behind in affronted silence.

  Atta girl.

  I turn to Vulture with a smirk. “I don’t think we have anything to discuss.”

  “It’s my job to check in once a week, newbie.” He smooths a hand over his tie, his voice tight with cold disdain. “Or didn’t you know?”

  “More like I was hoping you wouldn’t show.”

  “Don’t push me with your insolence,” Vulture says, his eyes slashing. “I will push back.”

  “I’m shaking in my boots.”

  “You think you’re so smart, wise guy?” Vulture moves threateningly close. “I could have you sacked with one call.”