The Grump Who Stole Christmas: Kringle Family Christmas Book One

by S Doyle

  “I know I said I wouldn’t tell you what to do, but that’s when it comes to your work. When it comes to sex…well, let’s just say that’s open for debate. I want you to reach up under that very conservative black dress of yours, pull your panties down your legs, slip them over those pretty high heeled shoes, and hand them to me under the table.”

  No way. Not going to happen. That was not me. I didn’t do sexy things at a restaurant. My underwear? What the hell was I supposed to do? Eat my rare steak with my ass bare against my dress?

  Oh yeah, I was definitely in my head again, except this time I had visions of him holding my panties in those big rough hands of his. Of him sliding his hand up my leg under my dress where I would be completely open to him. The two of us would be sitting together in this public restaurant and no one would suspect anything unless they noticed how flushed my face was.

  “You know you want to,” he whispered seductively in my ear.

  I did want to. I wanted to step outside of my comfort zone. I wanted to play with Paul in a way I’d never let myself play with a man before. If we’d already both agreed this couldn’t go anywhere serious, then why not have fun while it lasted?

  I looked into his eyes and could see they were sparkling with humor. He thought he was teasing me again. Pushing my buttons. He was probably expecting me to be outraged or to get all flustered because I was, at a heart, a bit of a prude.

  What I knew he wasn’t expecting was for me to slip my hands under my skirt. To scooch to the edge of the booth. To lift myself onto my shoes just enough so that I could slip my panties off and over my ass. Then down my legs, over my four-inch heels. Until they were in my hands where I promptly laid them over the linen napkin he’d unfolded in his lap.

  He was just staring down at them. Either shocked or turned on by my boldness, I wasn’t sure which.

  It was at that moment the server appeared, ready to take our order.

  I gulped, but Paul was much smoother than me.

  “Yes, hi,” he said to the young man in the black vest, white shirt, and tie. “We unfortunately have had a change in plans and we’re going to need to take our order to go.”

  Paul

  I had always heard the expression, now I can die a happy man. Mostly I thought it was bullshit, because I was pretty sure no one was ever happy when they were dying. But having Kay-Kay, who liked being called Kay-Kay a little bit, riding my cock while I was stretched out underneath her, might be the one occasion where I could use that phrase.

  I was trying not to thrust my hips up because I wanted to concentrate on watching her work her body over me, reaching for her orgasm, finding her rhythm. She was groaning and straining and slamming herself down hard on my cock and it was glorious.

  I wouldn’t be able to come like this. Her pace was too erratic and all over the place. I just had to lie back and be tortured sexually with her wet pussy, which would keep me in a state of constant arousal without any hope of release.

  “Paul,” she gasped. “Help, help.”

  She needed me to guide her. She needed me to help her get there. That small plea made me feel like a sex god. I wrapped one hand around her hip, my fingers splaying over both ass cheeks and forced her into a steady rhythm. Then I used my fingers to tug on her nipples, with enough pressure that I knew there was a little pain underneath the pleasure. That spice of heat that she probably never realized she needed to get there.

  Like slapping her ass.

  Now, I pushed my hips up into her, pulled her down against me so that her clit was mashing up against the base of my dick, and then I heard her explode before I felt her all around me.

  She was crying and coming on my cock, and before I could question it, I was pumping my come deep inside her.

  “Fuck yes,” I growled, my orgasm taking me by surprise. It was amazing.

  All of it. The sex. Her. Us together.

  I’d walked out of The Cow Farm with her fucking bright green panties in my pants pocket and it had been like winning the lottery.

  What the hell was I going to do when she actually left?

  She collapsed on top of me, her thighs spread out over mine, her cheek pressed against my hairy chest, her hands on my shoulders. Instinctively, I bent my neck and kissed the top of her head. Praising her for her utter hotness. Which was probably a little sexist, but in that moment I couldn’t care.

  “Why is sex so much better with you?” she mumbled. I could feel her lips moving against my chest and it tickled.

  “Because I’m a sex god?”

  I couldn’t answer that question seriously. Because if I did, I would probably freak her out. But I suspected it was because on some deeper level she trusted me, and in trusting me she was able to let go of Kristen Kringle for a time and just be Kay-Kay.

  With no worries. No fears. No stress.

  Much easier to come when you weren’t thinking about a thousand other things. I rubbed my hands up and down her back, cupping her ass so that I could hold her in place on my still pulsing cock. I wasn’t ready to separate us yet.

  I wanted her to hold my cum inside of her longer.

  What? That was stupid. She was on the pill. I couldn’t get her pregnant.

  “Do you even want kids?”

  The question popped out of my sex-drowsed brain before I could think it through.

  I could feel her tense on top of me and I cursed silently.

  “Never mind,” I said quickly. “I don’t know why I asked you that.”

  She lifted her head up, pressing that pointy chin into my chest in a way I was starting to really like. Because it was her pointy chin, and it hurt a little, but it also meant I could lose myself in her blue eyes.

  “I told myself I had to make a choice,” she said. “Yes, I know men do it all the time. They get to have kids and the promotions and the big office. They make it look so easy, actually. But I could never wrap my head around how it works. How can I be a good mom and a dedicated CEO? I had the best mom in the world, and to be anything less than she was to me, to my child, would crush me.”

  “Men do it all the time because they have help,” I said.

  “Not just help. They have wives. Free labor,” she huffed.

  “Sounds like that’s what you need. A wife.”

  She smiled. “I thought you said I needed a man who was going to wear the pants in the family.”

  “Wives don’t ever wear pants? That’s a surprising turn of events I didn’t know about. I really have to get me one of those.”

  She wiggled off me. “I should go. Since Matt is staying in one of the cabins and you’re out here now, there’s no one else in the house with dad.”

  I swallowed everything I wanted to say in that moment.

  How she never really answered the question of if she wanted children. How I suspected that she was really leaving me because I was asking her a scary question. How she was hiding behind her dad’s broken leg as an excuse to crawl back into the safety of her bunker instead of confronting what was happening between us.

  I said none of those things, because all of that was stuff she needed to realize on her own. I could push her a little. Tug her a bit. But in the end, Kay-Kay had to decide what she wanted for her life. More importantly, she had to decide who she wanted in her life.

  I was in love with her, but I knew I couldn’t burden her with that. It wouldn’t be fair. Not when she was being pulled from so many directions.

  “I’ll drive you home,” I said, sitting up. “You’re not going to be able to walk in those heels across the farm.”

  “You don’t have to do that.” She was slipping the black dress on over her head. “I can manage. Uh…can I have my underwear?”

  I pulled on a pair of jeans, threw on a sweater, and shoved my bare feet into some boots. I considered her question.

  “Nope. But here’s the to-go bag with your steak,” I said, holding up the bag from the restaurant. We’d dropped the bags by the door of the cabin, the second we stepped
inside and decided to eat each other instead. “Added a few sharing plates, too, but I figure if you eat the whole thing by yourself, it will be less complicated for you.”

  Her lips twisted at my teasing. “You think you’re funny.”

  I pinched my thumb and finger together. “A little bit.”

  “You’re really not going to give me my panties back?”

  “Not in this lifetime. Now head to the car, woman, and I’ll drive you back home. Because that’s what a gentleman does.”

  Her eyebrow arched. “Oh really? Would a gentleman hold on to my underwear?”

  “Absolutely,” I said with a straight face. “Page one of the Gentleman Handbook: always keep the panties.”

  16

  A Few Days Later

  Kristen

  “I’ll tell you what. Things sure are getting crazy around here.”

  I glanced up from my phone and watched my dad navigate into the kitchen on his crutches. Usually he was the early riser, but today I had him beat.

  “I mean, are you paying attention?” he asked me. “There are all sorts of drama going on.”

  Tell me about it. I’m sure Dad was talking about Ethan’s surprise wife. Or maybe the stuff going on with Matt and Jasmine. I didn’t think he suspected that Paul and I were having…

  What were Paul and I doing?

  What would I call it? How would I label it?

  A dalliance? Too old fashioned.

  Friends with benefits? Too two-thousands.

  A liaison? Too French. I wasn’t cool enough to pull that off.

  An affair. Too…temporary sounding.

  “I’m focused on the business, Dad,” I told him as he took a seat at the kitchen table, his crutches pushed aside. “The good news is things are turning around. As much as I hate to say it, because it gives him way too much credit, Matt’s making a difference. Credit to Jasmine, too. All of her ideas are working. Come Christmas Eve, this place is going to be a Christmas Wonderland.”

  My dad smiled and patted his round belly. “Your mother would be happy about that.”

  I let the wave of grief hit me, and like it had these last few years, gently recede away. I had a feeling that was always how it would be. The pain of missing her, the acceptance that she was gone.

  Then it occurred to me that Mom managed to raise three kids while she had the full-time work of running the inn.

  “How did she do it all, Dad?” I asked, even as I got up to pour him a cup of coffee from the pot I’d just made. “The inn, you, us kids. It was like it all ran so smoothly.”

  “Well, let’s start with the fact she was an amazing woman,” Dad said. “She was organized, hardworking, efficient, and an excellent decision maker. No dillydallying for your mom. She looked at a problem, weighed her options, then acted. Saves a lot of time in the day when you can do that.”

  I filled his mug up with coffee, added milk and sugar, and set it in front of him. His words were bouncing around my head.

  “I’m a good decision maker,” I muttered.

  “Yep, just like your mom.”

  So that was a skill that made you a good mom, too? Huh. I’d never considered that.

  Dad took a sip of his coffee and grimaced. “My first born, I love you more than life itself, but you do not make a good cup of coffee. I wish Paul hadn’t decided to move out. Between his cooking skills and his coffee-making ability, now that man would make a fine wife for someone.”

  I froze, Dad’s words hitting me like a punch in the gut. “What did you say?”

  “I know, I know. You’re going to call me out for not being a feminist or some such nonsense. I didn’t mean it. I was only teasing.”

  “No, Dad, I think you might be on to something…”

  Just then my phone started ringing. I picked it up off the table and saw it wasn’t a personal contact, just a phone number with a New York City area code.

  Curious, I accepted the call. “Hello?”

  “Ms. Kringle? Hi, Troy Sally, so glad we could connect. I’m calling from Emerson Resources. You sent your resumé to us a few weeks ago.”

  Emerson Resources was one of the largest headhunter firms in Manhattan. They only dealt with executive-level placements. They were the first group I’d emailed my updated resumé, but I’d expected the process to take time. I wasn’t looking for just any job. The position I might consider would probably take months to find.

  “Yes, of course,” I said. “Nice to speak with you, Troy. What’s up?”

  “Well, something just popped. Something we think you might be interested in. A COO position opened up in a smaller boutique insurance company. Nowhere close to the size of Hart’s, but they’re looking for someone to right the ship, so this would be a step up from a VP position. Twenty K less than what you were making previously, but with bonus incentives built in that could actually double your previous salary if you hit them all. Interested?”

  “Of course,” I said automatically.

  There was nothing to think about. It was a title bump. It was an opportunity to turn a failing business around. Put it on the right path. Get paid off if I accomplished it. Not to mention the restoration of my business reputation, if I could restore it.

  “Excellent. I’ll submit your resumé along with the cover letter to them. How flexible are you for an in-person interview?”

  “Uh, I’m actually home for the holidays. But I could get a flight back to New York fairly quickly. I just need a day to arrange things.”

  “Got it. Okay. I’ll let them know.”

  I disconnected the call and slowly sat down at the kitchen table.

  “What’s that?” Dad asked. “Not a work emergency over Christmas, I hope?”

  I tried to make sense of what I was feeling, but it was all a jumble. Was I happy? Excited? Or filled with dread? I couldn’t distinguish it all.

  I looked at my dad then, saw the confusion in his face.

  “No, Dad. It’s not…” I took a deep breath and let it go. “It’s not Hart’s calling, because I got fired from Hart’s.”

  “What?” he asked, clearly shocked.

  “There was a merger and departments were consolidated. As the person who tended to be the least political…”

  “You mean the person least likely to kiss ass,” he grumbled.

  I smiled. “That too. Anyway, I got let go.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was hurt. Embarrassed. You and Mom were all so happy when I made vice president. The Boss Lady. It felt like it was a justification for all that hard work and sacrifices I’d made. Yes, I left home, but look at what I’d accomplished. How could I come home and tell you I failed at that level?”

  He scrunched up his face. “Because I’m your father. Because no matter what happens in your life, I’m here to support you. Love you. Tell you that those fuckers are assholes for firing you.”

  “Dad! Your language!”

  “Your mother isn’t here to chastise me, so I can say what I want. You tell me everything, Kristen. All of it. Part of the joy of being a parent is that I don’t just live my life, I get to experience yours too. All the highs and the lows. I want to know everything. You’re not out there on your own trying to handle everything yourself. You always have me in your corner. Always. Even if I do come with a failing inn and a busted leg.”

  I reached across the table and grabbed his hand to squeeze it. “You are the absolute best, Dad.”

  “I know it,” he grumbled. “Maybe you should share that information with your brother Matt.”

  “I will.”

  “So what was that phone call about then?”

  “A new job, potentially. I might have to leave to fly out for an interview. But I’ll be back for Christmas. I promise I won’t leave you in a lurch.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me. How many times do I have to tell you that? I get that I let some things slide around the inn, but now that you’ve pointed it all out, I can take it from here.”<
br />
  No, he couldn’t. I thought back to what Paul said. About what the pressure of running the inn single-handedly was doing to him. That it was breaking him.

  If I interviewed and got the job, I could always tell them I needed a few weeks before I could start. Maybe find a permanent manager who could help him with the day-to-day operations.

  “All this is speculative,” I said. “I don’t even know if they’ll want to interview me.”

  “Of course they will,” he said confidently. “You’re Kris Kringle Jr. Who wouldn’t want you on their team?”

  “Dad,” I groaned. “Don’t call me Kris Kringle! You know it drives me crazy!”

  He chuckled and patted his stomach. “That’s part of the fun!”

  Paul

  I watched her walk toward me, her hands buried in her jean pockets. Her steps slower and more measured than they normally were.

  “This isn’t going to be good, guys. This is going to be bad news.”

  “Still talking to your trees?” she asked, as she approached the ladder I was standing on to shave down the tops of some of the taller trees.

  “Always,” I said as I climbed down. “After all, at least they’re alive and can actually hear me.”

  We stood there, on the ground, just looking at each other while I waited for her to work up the courage to say what she needed to say.

  “Just rip it off like a Band-Aid, Kay-Kay. I can’t stand the suspense.”

  “I have to leave tomorrow. That headhunter I told you about the other day, he called. The company wants to interview me for the COO position. Operations is where I do best.”

  “Chief Operations Officer. That’s big time,” I agreed, and tried to smile around the sick feeling in my gut. “Next jump is CEO and that’s what you’ve always wanted.”

  She nodded and ducked her head. “Yeah. Anyway, I’ll be back in time. I’m not going to leave everyone hanging for the big Christmas Eve party.”

  “Yep.”