The Naughty List

by Caisey Quinn

  Her eyes widen and she blinks rapidly.

  “Street thugs mostly,” I clarify. “Nothing more than a bunch of car thieves and vandals. Until I met Pops and started training.”

  “For MMA fighting?”

  “Boxing first. But I was a physical kid and kept getting DQ’d for kicking and body-slamming my opponents.”

  “DQ’d?”

  “Disqualified. So I made the switch to mixed-martial arts and never looked back.”

  Hollis takes it all in, absorbing more of my past. I watch her features shift under the streetlamp. She’s fighting off the pity she knows I won’t accept.

  “So before three you were…”

  I shrug. “No idea. With my mom, I guess. I never knew her and she didn’t fill out the paperwork with any of her real information so…”

  “I’m sorry, Jonah.”

  Glancing to the side, I fidget with my keys. “I survived.”

  Her gaze roams over me, assessing my discomfort level, I’m sure. “You did more than survive. What you do for the WDA, what you did in there for those kids tonight—you’re a good man, Jonah.”

  I duck my head. “I don’t know about that.”

  “I do.” She plays with the fluffy fabric around the edge of her skirt. “So…any chance you want to tell me what the X stands for?”

  She’s hungry for more, but I’ve shared about as much as I can handle.

  “You might be disappointed.”

  She frowns at me. “I doubt it.”

  “It’s not as mysterious as the media makes it out to be. It’s what my biological mother put on the form when she dropped me off with children’s services. Jonah in the first name box. An X in the last name box.”

  She steps closer, and the urge is there—the one pushing me to touch her, to kiss her, to claim her. I beat it back into the corner of my mind, but just barely.

  “Put this on,” I say instead, reaching into my vehicle then handing her my leather jacket. “I’m getting cold just looking at you.”

  Not true but I’m not being literal at the moment.

  “Thank you for inviting me here tonight,” she breathes softly when the prolonged eye contact in silence becomes too much for either of us to bear. “I had a really good time.”

  “Thank you for being here.” I realize then that, despite how difficult it was to let her see this part of my life, I’m thankful that she’s here, that she’s a natural at everything I throw at her. That she’s become a fixture in my life.

  I don’t know how I got so lucky.

  Oh yeah.

  I lied.

  10

  HOLLIS

  NOT A CREATURE WAS STIRRING

  “Do you do this every year?” I ask Jonah.

  It’s cold and we need to go our separate ways, but I’m struggling to leave him after he’s shared so much with me.

  Tonight we bonded, and I’m not ready to sever this connection between us just yet. It’s dangerous and addicting at the same time.

  Like a junkie needing a fix, I want one more taste. Just a little more to hold me over until next time.

  “I do. If I’m out of town Eli does it, but I try to schedule around it so I can always make it.”

  “Some of them know it’s you,” I confess. “I heard a few older boys talking.”

  “Your suitors,” Jonah teases. “I know. I give a few of them sparring lessons on Saturday mornings. They recognized me years ago. I bribed them with cash not to tell the younger ones.”

  So that’s where he is on Saturdays when I’m walking the dogs. I always thought he was still shacked up with his Friday night.

  “Bribery makes you this happy?”

  I’m grinning uncontrollably. “It’s sweet how you look out for them.”

  I tell myself that’s why I’m smiling.

  Jonah’s entire demeanor changes. His shoulders drop as he rubs his neck with one hand.

  “I wish I could do more. If I’d kept fighting professionally I’d be able to send a lot more money and resources their way. They have constant needs. Beds, food, clothing, medical check-ups, supplies, specialists.”

  “I met Lylah Kate,” I say softly. She was three-years-old and deaf. I signed what little I could of the bedtime story and one of the other girls helped. But I haven’t studied ASL since I was a girl scout more than ten years ago.

  Jonah nods. “LK is precious. But she only gets an hour a day with one of the workers who is learning to sign online. She needs a full-time companion to teach her ASL. ”

  “Bet that’s expensive.”

  Jonah nods. “You have no idea.”

  An idea strikes me and it’s out of my mouth before I can think it through. “I could do it. I could take a few classes at the community college and start working with her a few hours a day.”

  Classes are expensive. Getting my own place would just have to wait a little longer.

  Jonah regards me with eyes full of an emotion I can’t identify. “In between working for me and running your family’s bar?” He shakes his head. “I’ll figure it out, Hollis. But thank you.”

  I have another idea, and even though it’s freezing out here, I warm with excitement.

  “Oh! We did a fundraiser last year at the Tavern for local families of officers killed while on duty. We raised over twelve thousand dollars because I not only took donations at the event and a portion of profits from the night’s sales, but I posted online where people could donate. And I advertised on social media. That kind of money would make a big difference to this place. To kids like LK. What if we hosted something at the bar again and I posted about her online? We could reach out to the media and—”

  “Whoa, Hollis. Slow down.” Jonah taps the underside of my chin gently. “It’s not a bad idea. Fundraising. I’m sure we can put something together. But the last thing I want is media attention. Especially not here, not where they could disrupt these kids’ lives with cameras and reporters and bullshit just because I grew up here.”

  “Sorry if I overstepped,” I say softly, feeling deflated. I want to help. But I know he hates media attention. They haven’t been kind to him over the years.

  “You didn’t. You have a big heart, Hollis. Biggest heart of anyone I know.”

  My lips tug upward. He steps backward and I felt bereft without his body heat.

  “You have plans tonight?”

  I glance into the backseat of my car. “If you count making gingerbread houses and Christmas cookies as plans. My mom is taking them to the Alzheimer’s Center tomorrow.”

  “Do you ever stop? When do you sleep?”

  I laugh lightly. “I might sleep when I’m dead.”

  “You, uh, want some help? We could make them at my place. I know the boys would love to see you.”

  “That Santa suit must be cutting off your oxygen,” I tease. “You hate Christmas music but you want to spend your evening handing out presents and making gingerbread houses?”

  He licks his lips and I nearly melt into a puddle in the snow. There is something about this man’s mouth, something I can’t quite explain. But I saw him with a toothpick once and literally could not look away.

  He shrugs. “Yeah, Hollis. If you want my help that is. I don’t know if I could decorate them like you do but I worked construction for a few summers. I can probably put them together at least.”

  I don’t hesitate. Even though I should. Even though I should think about what Addi said, about the possibility of him breaking me.

  “I’ll follow you there,” I say, because when it comes to this man, and only this man, I am weak.

  Once I’m in my car waiting for Jonah to pull out of the parking lot in front of me, I fire off a quick text to Addi.

  My head is spinning, my brain drowning in a lust-filled haze. I need reinforcements.

  Helped Jonah out tonight at a local youth group home. He invited me back to his place. Tell me it’s not a big deal.

  Before she responds, we merge into traffic and I set
my phone in the center console.

  Last thing I need is to text and drive, rear-end Jonah, and have to explain I was texting an SOS because all I can think about is how to get him out of that Santa suit.

  When we pull into the parking garage, I hear the notification that she’s texted back.

  I park beside Jonah and glance at her message quickly.

  It’s only a big deal if you want it to be. Use a condom. Don’t forget #6!

  Gee, thanks, Addi. Definitely not the reminder I needed at this particular moment.

  Jonah waits for me beside my car, wearing only his Santa pants and a white T-shirt. I still have his jacket on.

  I climb out quickly, startled when he appears beside me before I can grab my stuff from the backseat.

  “I got it,” he says vehemently.

  Alright then. “Thanks,” I mumble. “It’s heavy. Those gingerbread walls are no joke.”

  “I can handle it. Did you bake them?”

  My head lowers. “Um, no. I bought them pre-baked. They aren’t going to eat them, so I figured it didn’t matter.” I clear my throat. “Well, except Mr. Parker, my grandpa’s nemesis, who puts everything in his mouth. But last year he just ate the icing off.”

  Jonah’s eyes twinkle with amusement as we get onto the elevator. “Careful with those old codgers. They can get handsy.”

  “In my experience, men of all ages can be a little gropey.”

  Jonah smirks, ducking his head behind the paper sack holding my gingerbread building supplies.

  “We are going to bake the gingerbread men for the village though. From scratch.”

  “Of course we are,” Jonah grumbles.

  After we reach his floor and exit the elevator, Jonah uses his code to let us inside. Z and Ache great us enthusiastically.

  I kneel down to love on both of them. “Remember the day we met, when Zeus tackled me to the ground?”

  “Down, boys,” Jonah commands and they both look at me to see if I they have to listen to him. I give each of them one more love pat before standing. “He had a lot more energy back then. He’s slowing down a bit these days.”

  I nod sadly. “They probably need to go out. I can take them.”

  He shakes his head. “You go out there this time of night dressed like that and I’ll never see you again. I’ll go. You stay here and warm up. Get started on the cookies and I’ll help with the houses when I get back.”

  While Jonah puts Ache on his leash, I pull off my hat and the silly elf-shoes, discarding them by the door. When I take off his jacket to give it back before he goes out into the cold, I pull my keys from the pocket, along with a receipt.

  Unfolding the long, thin strip of paper, my eyes go wide. “Jonah, you spent three thousand dollars on toys?”

  He shrugs. “There’s a lot of kids there that don’t get anything else for Christmas. I always make sure I have something for everyone. Miss Nancy sends me a list.”

  “That’s really sweet. You know, it’s also a tax deduction.”

  He rolls his eyes. “I don’t care about that.”

  “You saved the receipt.” I’m about to hand it to him when I notice something scrawled on the back.

  Aimee, it’s says in female cursive handwriting. The i is dotted with a heart. It’s followed by a local phone number.

  I hold it up inquisitively.

  “Salesgirl at the toy store. She was very helpful.”

  “I bet she was.” I resist the urge to gnaw on my lower lip. “Are you going to call her?”

  Jonah levels me with a solid stare. “I don’t know. Is that a problem?”

  His tone is challenging. This is why he thinks I can’t be his assistant.

  My teeth clench and my jaw ticks. He’s testing me. I failed the Janine test already. If I want to be his assistant, I’ve got to get used to this.

  “No problem at all. Just didn’t know if you wanted to keep this or toss it.” I lay the receipt on the side table with my keys.

  “I’m not going to call her tonight,” he offers.

  “Have fun walking the dogs,” I say, dismissing him, because this is the reminder I needed. I nearly lost sight of what was really important. I need to get my train of thought back on track and it will be easier if he isn’t here. “Don’t forget the little blue baggies.”

  Jonah is Jonah. And like he said at the bar, we aren’t shopping in the same category.

  I glance at the Henry Bear receipt.

  We don’t even shop at the same stores.

  11

  JONAH

  NAUGHTY OR NICE

  I use the brisk walk in the freezing cold to clear my head.

  The really fucked up thing is, I brought this misery upon myself.

  Hollis, in that damn elf outfit, has worked me over all night. So when the torture was finally coming to an end, what did I do?

  I prolonged it.

  Sure, half-naked Hollis, let’s make gingerbread houses at my place. I could be buried balls deep in the blond sales girl from Henry Bear’s right now, but no. I’m a self-destructive masochist insistent upon torturing myself to death with forbidden fruit instead.

  My breath comes out in white puffs of steam as the boys finish their business. The cold air makes my lungs ache but I welcome the pain. I need to cool down from the inside out anyway. Freeze my adrenaline solid so I won’t act on the salacious impulses assaulting my mind.

  “I can do this, right?” I ask them, once I’ve retrieved and discarded the messes they made. “We can handle hanging out with Hollis, can’t we?”

  Zeus looks at me like I’m being ridiculous.

  “No big, just two grown adults making some gingerbread houses,” I reassure myself.

  Once we’re back in the building absorbing the warmth of the great indoors, I feel better.

  My head is clear.

  I am in control. Always.

  She almost got me in the lingerie store. I almost unleashed my unfiltered, fucked up self on her. But I didn’t and if I survived that, I can survive anything.

  I’m damn near chipper on the elevator. That boost of confidence carries me all the way back inside the apartment.

  I’m good. I’ve pulled it together. Mostly.

  Right up until I see her, bent over my kitchen counter, aggressively kneading dough with her delicate hands.

  My greedy gaze starts at her bare feet, where she stands on her tiptoes. It travels up her firm calves, to those thick, toned thighs that almost sent me over the edge just a few hours ago.

  Her ass is round and pushes her skirt outward just the right amount.

  She rolls the dough with a wooden rolling pin she must’ve brought then turns to me. “Oh, good, you’re back!”

  I blink and my mouth goes instantly dry.

  I can’t swallow. I can’t fucking breathe.

  She picks up a bag of icing and moves toward me.

  On my twenty-first birthday, I had two well-known porn stars in the back of a stretch Hummer limousine. They were insatiable, as hungry for each other as they were for me. It was in the beginning of my MMA career. We were all various versions of drunk or high, and though the memory is hazy, it was arguably the hottest experience of my life.

  Right up until now.

  Hollis Rossi, walking toward me with a bag of icing.

  My heart thuds heavily in my chest.

  “Here,” she says, thrusting a white cone-shaped bag into my hands. “I need your construction expertise on these houses.”

  Completely oblivious to the fact that I’m in the midst of a mental breakdown, Hollis puts me to work constructing houses while she cuts out cookies. I’ve just finished the first one, roof and all, when she turns to me.

  “You okay, Jonah? You’re quiet.”

  I look directly into her wide, melted chocolate eyes. Mistake.

  She smells so fucking good. Even better than the cookies baking in my oven. The mix of vanilla and sugar swirling in the air reminding me of a hot fudge sundae with whipped
cream and a cherry on top.

  I want to devour every inch of her. Twice.

  “I’m good,” I lie.

  “We need some music. Christmas music,” she declares, reaching for her phone.

  “Hang on,” I tell her, seeking out my remote for the sound system. Within a few moments, Bing Crosby is serenading us with his rendition of White Christmas.

  After the cookies have baked and cooled, we fall into an assembly line process of decorating them. Once we finish, we return to constructing the houses.

  She holds the walls, I glue the seams. She blows gently on the icing, pursing those full lips together and driving me mad. She holds the rooftops at an angle, I glue the middle, there’s more blowing and I’m lightheaded by the time we get all dozen of the houses built.

  “Now for the fun part,” Hollis declares, waving a new bag full of red icing at me. “Decorating!”

  She’s actually excited about this. “Sometimes I seriously wonder about what constitutes your idea of fun,” I tease.

  “Don’t knock it till you try it,” she says while grabbing a tray she’s filled with what looks like a dozen different varieties of candy.

  “Pipe me some stripes on this roof, please,” she says, bending over my kitchen bar to reach the first house we finished.

  I wish I still drank.

  I could sure as hell use a distracting burn down my throat about now.

  I nod. “You got it, boss.”

  Hollis’s mouth spreads wide, displaying her perfectly straight gleaming white teeth. “I like the sound of that.”

  “Don’t get used to it,” I grumble, following orders and piping stripes across rooftops.

  When she gets preoccupied placing candies and whatever the hell else, I get a jump on striping more rooftops. When she sees that I’ve iced them all, Hollis inahles sharply.

  “Oh, Jonah.” She reaches out and touches one of them.

  The icing is too stiff and dry for her candies to stick.

  “Oh hell. My bad.” I feel like a jackass. I thought she’d be happy that I took the initiative. But like always, I fucked it up. “I’m sorry, Hollis. I didn’t even think about how fast it would dry.”