I lean into him, ignoring the nervous fluttering in my stomach and the swearing in my head. Texas Boy looks skeptical. Hell, I’m skeptical. Then, after several seconds of tense silence, he nods and sulks back to his table.
I spin around to face Nash, point a finger to his chest, and speak low enough so no one would overhear. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
The muscle in his jaw ticks, his deep blue eyes narrow on me, and I fight to ignore the weight of his hands resting on the small of my back. “Saving your ass.”
“Where’s Sebastian?”
“Getting the car. I came back to check on you when you didn’t follow us out. Come on, your boyfriend is ready to get out of this dump.” He spanks my ass, leaving a delicious burn on my skin.
I jump against him, completely taken off guard. “You can’t just—”
“Slap your ass?” He smirks, trailing his hands over my hips before letting them drop to his sides. “I can and I did.”
I cross my arms in a huff, stomping out the door with Nash close behind. Stupid cocky bastard. Thinks he can just slap my ass and get away with it. I’ll show him.
“What took you two so long?” Sebastian asks as I climb in the backseat of his Lexus.
“Some d-bag—”
“Thought I was someone else and started asking me questions,” Nash interrupts, shooting me a look over his shoulder. “It took him a minute to realize I was not his long lost Army pal.”
I narrow my eyes, cross my arms over my chest, and, after a few seconds of scrutiny, give him a tight nod. My brother can be a bit overprotective of me, so it’s probably for the best that he doesn’t know what really happened. He’d run in there in two seconds flat and knock that guy on his ass. Probably half his friends, too. No one wants to see a Smash and Bash reunion tonight. Besides, I don’t have cash on me for bail money. And I’ve needed it before with the two of them.
“So, are we dropping Nash off on the way?” I click my seatbelt together and glance toward Nash in the passenger seat.
Sebastian slaps the steering wheel. “Shit. I’m sorry. I forgot to mention Nash is crashing with us. His parents have some extended family staying at their place, and it’s crowded over there.”
Nash turns around and pins me with a sly smirk and a wink. My heart drops into my stomach, and I try to swallow past the lump in my throat.
Great.
I’d love to spend the entire Christmas holiday with my nemesis. My ocean-eyed, broad-shouldered, full-lipped nemesis.
“Perfect.”
Chapter Two
Nash
I don’t know what it is about Julia Rowe, but I love—no, I live to get under her skin. Her cheeks redden while her chest flushes, and those whiskey eyes flash in anger, piercing through me, making me feel alive. I have a hunch she secretly enjoys fighting with me, too. She goads me into it each and every time.
The look on her face when her brother dropped the bomb was priceless. I didn’t expect her to take it well. In fact, I’d have been disappointed if she were happy. There’s no way in hell she wants to be under the same roof with me for even one night. I stifle a laugh. It’s going to be a fun holiday vacation.
For me.
I creep into the kitchen, sneaking up behind Jules, and before she can run off, I place my hands down on the countertop on either side of her, caging her in. “What are you doing in here, Sweets? Hiding from me?”
Jules spins around and pushes at my chest, but I don’t budge. “What are you doing? Of course, I’m hiding from you. Back the fuck up.”
“Not a chance.” I lean forward, putting my mouth by her ear, and burying my nose in her golden blonde hair. It smells like peaches, and I fight the urge to find out if she smells like peaches everywhere. Just thinking about burying my face in that sweet pussy has my dick hard in my jeans. “Just wanted to check on my girlfriend. Make sure you’re doing okay after being groped.”
Jules pushes at me again and, this time, I take a step back. I don’t need her brushing into my erection and getting the wrong idea. I doubt the excuse ‘it’s not what you think’ will work very well. There’s only one reason for a hard dick, and I don’t need her to know being close to her turns me on. It would only give her ammo to use against me, and that’s one game I won’t play. It would end with her underneath me and I can’t be having that.
“You and I both know I will never be your girlfriend, and the only person who groped me was you,” she hisses as her nostrils flare and her hands fist at her sides.
I chuckle, provoking her further. She’s adorable all pent up like this. Someone needs to give her a release, and fuck, I want that someone to be me. Only me. Too bad Sebastian made me promise years ago never to touch her. Even though I can’t have her, and it drives me crazy, I can’t help but get close to her. “Don’t pretend you didn’t like my hands on you.”
“Listen, you arrogant dick.” She steps forward so we’re only separated by a few inches, and presses her index finger to my chest, directly over my cold heart. “The next time you put your hands on me, I’ll chop them off.”
I glance at her finger, which she removes. “Relax, sweets. I’m fucking with you. I don’t need to grope Sebastian’s little sister in a dive bar in Aspen. I get enough pussy. I’m not hard up for anything. Especially you.”
Her mouth slams shut so fast her teeth clack together. Her eyes harden, her lips roll inward and flatten like she’s trying to hold in her insults.
Perfect. It’s easier to resist her if she hates me. Otherwise, I’d give into temptation and do something stupid. Like kiss her. “I just wanted to see if you had something to eat. I’m hungry.”
Her eyes flash, and she reaches on the counter, feeling around behind her. “I’m not your personal chef. Get one of your whores to make you something.”
My triumphant smile only lasts three seconds before her hand shoots up and a white cloud pelts me in the face. She shoves past me, blowing out a long breath, her anger barely contained in that petite body of hers. I stand still, staring at the open bag of flour, completely dumbfounded.
I’ve been antiqued. This is a first for me. I don’t recommend it.
There’s one silver lining to getting a fistful of flour directly to the face. Next to the bag is a full plate of gingersnap cookies. My favorite.
“I bet one of my whores would love to make me a sandwich,” I mutter to myself before thrusting a cookie into my eager mouth. That’ll never happen, though. I never see them twice. I don’t have time for a relationship, so I don’t indulge in them. Period. The women I hook up with know the deal upfront. It’s about sex and mutual orgasms for one night only. I won’t call the next day, and if I see one of them on the street, I keep on walking. Does it make me a bastard? Maybe. Too bad I don’t care.
Snagging several more cookies, I stroll into the living room and drop on the edge of the worn coffee-colored leather armchair. Sebastian, who’s sprawled along the length of the matching couch, looks at me, his mouth open in surprise. No doubt because I look like a Halloween ghost costume fail. I just need a little black face paint under the eyes to perfect my undead look.
“First of all, where did you get those cookies?”
“Kitchen. They’re good. You should get off your ass and get some.”
Sebastian sticks out his hand and wiggles his fingers. With an eye roll, I relinquish two. Only because he’s my best friend. I don’t give my cookies out to just anyone.
He shoves a whole one in his mouth and speaks while chewing. “I’m not even going to ask why you’re covered in flour. I know you were in there fucking with my sister.”
“Fuck with your sister?” I place my hand over my heart and gasp in mock horror. “I would never do that.”
He shakes his head and chuckles. “You’re a dick. What did I say about my sister? Off limits, dude.”
My jaw clenches at his reminder. The one he’ll never let me forget. “I know.” All too well, in fact. Julia will never be min
e. Doesn’t matter I’ve pined after her for years.
When Sebastian figured out what I did all those years ago and how I felt about her, it was over for me. Fucking Colby Jenkins. The bastard deserved everything he got. Jules thought she loved that asshole, and maybe she did, but I refused to sit back and watch her heart break slowly while he had his tongue down another girl’s throat. That was the day I sealed my fate. I lost my shit, fucked him up, and forced him to break up with Jules on the spot. Sebastian made me promise not to tell her the truth because it would break her heart. So, I let her think I was some asshole who wanted to ruin her happiness. It was better for her to think I was the bad guy, the one who hurt her, instead of that fucker breaking her.
Sebastian watched me closely after that, and then we had the talk. You know the one. Where he reminded me I was a player, I didn’t want a relationship, and his sister wasn’t some bimbo I could use and discard. He warned me if I ever used her like that, if I ever broke her heart, I was a dead man walking. If I ever touched her, he’d kill me himself. I believed him, too. Still do.
But we aren’t kids anymore, and I’m getting really tired of being the bad guy.
No longer hungry, I hand Sebastian the rest of my cookies and push up from the chair. “Gotta take a shower.”
I stomp up the stairs to the bathroom but can’t find any damn towels. Running a hand through my hair, I sigh. I need to ask Jules for one unless I want to stand here all night with my balls hanging out to air dry. Her bedroom door is closed, no surprise, and I rap my knuckles against the wood.
“What do you need, Sebastian?” Her voice sounds nice through the door. Never get to hear that version anymore.
“Not Nash.”
The knob turns and she opens the door slowly, hesitantly, taking me in with a shit-eating grin on her face. “You look good, Not Nash. White really is your color. Brings out that icy blue of your eyes and goes perfect with that dead heart of yours.”
“Hilarious.” I frown, looking down at my flour coated shirt. “I couldn’t find any towels and suddenly find myself in dire need of a shower.”
She brushes past me, her shoulders grazing my arm, and smirks. “I’ll get you one. I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.”
Neither am I. Not really. A messy shirt is a small price to pay for a moment alone with Jules. Even to trade insults.
“So, I noticed you don’t have any Christmas decorations up. Been busy?” I shove my hands in my pockets and rock on my heels as I watch her open up the closet at the end of the hall. I’m not a total dick. Mostly. I care for her and want her to be happy, even if it’s without me. Jules used to love Christmas and if it weren’t for the snow on the ground and lights on other people’s houses, you’d have no idea the holiday is right around the corner.
She turns toward me with a stack of maroon towels, a furrowed brow, and a suspicious glint in her stare. Maybe because I’m rarely not poking the bear. Her gaze moves from the floor to my shirt, but she refuses to meet my eyes. She’s silent for several seconds before she lets out a long sigh. “Yes and no. I mean, I have everything in the basement, but I haven’t really decorated since my parents died. I don’t know. It feels stupid to say it out loud, but it doesn’t feel like Christmas without them. The only reason Sebastian comes back every year is so I’m not alone, and he’s never been much for decorating. It doesn’t seem worth the effort.”
I nod because what the fuck can I say to that? I want to wrap her up in a hug and tell her how sorry I am her parents are gone, and she’ll never be alone. But there’s no way I can say any of that. She hates me—I have no doubt—and I refuse to let something stupid, like my feelings, ruin my friendship with the best friend I ever had. All for another notch on my bedpost. Jules would be more than just a notch. Not that it matters, so I do the only thing I can. I grab the towels with a brief thank you, and pretend not to see the tears glistening in her eyes at the mention of her parents before I retreat to the bathroom.
My feelings for her are complicated. Jules can only be mine for a night, I don’t do more than that, and she’s not a one night kind of girl. I know this, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting her, anyway. Doesn’t matter, though. I made a promise to her brother I can never break.
I place the towels on the countertop with a sigh and scrub my face with my hands.
Jules has the potential to make my life complicated, and I don’t do complicated very well. She’s the only woman who’s ever made me want to be more. To be a better man. To be good enough.
But I can never be that guy. I can never be more.
Chapter Three
Nash
After rolling out of bed and throwing on a pair of jeans and a white long sleeved Henley, I go downstairs in search of Bash. I need to fix the Christmas thing with Jules. I may be little more than a selfish playboy, but I can try to make Jules’ Christmas special again. I wanted to have this conversation with Bash last night, but by the time I finished with my shower, he’d already gone to bed.
“I think we have a problem with your sister.” I drop myself down on the couch next to Sebastian and turn to face him.
His eyes, the same amber color as his sister’s, harden as he studies my face. “Do you care to rephrase? You don’t have anything with my sister.”
Of course, he’d jump to conclusions after feeling the need to remind me yesterday to stay away from Jules. I lean back, letting myself sink into the plush cushions. “Pull the stick out of your ass, Bash. I’m serious.”
His expression softens when he realizes I’m not trying anything he’d deem inappropriate. “I’m listening.”
“Have you noticed Jules doesn’t really celebrate Christmas anymore?” I sigh, sitting forward, resting my elbows on my thighs.
“I mean, I noticed she doesn’t put up the trees anymore. I didn’t really think much of it. Figured she was just too busy with the bakery. Hell, you’ve seen my apartment. You know I’m not into decorating.”
Sebastian looks around the room, no doubt taking in the lack of holiday décor. Bash isn’t always the most observant guy. He’s more big picture while I handle the details.
I clear my throat, drawing his attention back to me. “She hasn’t celebrated since your parents died. Doesn’t feel the holiday spirit. She thinks the only reason you come back here is so she’s not alone.”
“Well, that’s not true. I don’t want her to be here alone, that’s true, but I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. She’s family. She’s all I have left.”
“We know that, but she doesn’t. Do you remember how into Christmas she used to be? When we were in high school, she used to make us wear Santa hats while we helped her leave out cookies for Santa. And remember those ridiculous pictures she used to make us take to make cards out of?”
As teenagers, we’d been reindeers, wise men, snowmen, elves, and, my least favorite, angels. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she hadn’t made us wear dresses. My argument that there were obviously boy angels fell on deaf ears. So, Bash and I posed for the picture, and then I set out to destroy every copy she made. I think I got them all. It was a busy Christmas.
Sebastian laughs, holding a hand to his chest as he leans forward. “Those were the worst. Not as bad as the time she made us be in the live manger. Although, I did make a pretty badass Joseph.”
That was the year of the wise man. Jules’ favorite idea—making a recreation of the nativity scene. Bash thought he was so cool as Joseph. He paraded around in the costume all day, ordering us around as the father of Jesus. He would have kept it up all weekend, except his mom slapped him upside his head and told him he was going to hell if he didn’t stop.
“You were, hands down, the worst Joseph that ever existed.” I lean back and bring a hand to my mouth to stifle a laugh. “Christ, she used to have four trees in the house. Which, by the way, is three too many.” A weight fills my chest realizing how much she’s lost and how sad I feel about that. “Now she doesn’t even have a wreath on the door.”
Sebastian furrows his brows and scrunches up his nose, it’s his concentration face. Looks more like a constipation face, if you ask me. “I never thought I’d say this, but you’re right. She used to go nuts for Christmas. I’m so stupid. I can’t believe I didn’t make a connection.”
“You lost your parents, too, Bash. Both of you have been dealing with things your own way, but maybe you’ve been existing with each other and not helping each other.”
“Jesus.” He runs a hand through his hair, causing half of it to stand on end. “When did you become a fucking therapist?”
I shrug. “I’ve known you for a long time. Both of you. I didn’t realize it was this bad.”
“I’m sorry I jumped up your ass. Christmas hasn’t been the easiest since the accident and, as you pointed out, I’ve had my head up my ass. We should bring up the stuff from the basement. At the very least, we need a tree.”
“Agreed.” I’m not sure if a tree is good enough, but it’s a good start. “We could surprise her with dinner?”
Sebastian raises his eyebrows and gives me a pointed look.
“Okay, fine.” I raise up my hands in concession. That might not be the best idea. Neither one of us are known for our culinary expertise. He once scorched a pan trying to boil water, and I’m not much better. “We’ll order take out. I don’t have much to do today. I’m waiting on instructions from—speak of the devil—my mother.”
I dig my ringing phone out of my back pocket. The ringtone is one I picked to drive my mom crazy, the theme song to Golden Girls. She thought it made me an ass. I think it makes me clever.
Sebastian pushes up from the couch with a grunt. “I’m going to start going through the shit in the basement.”
I nod to Sebastian before answering. “Hello, Mother. What a nice surprise.”
“I’m sure it is, since I told you yesterday I’d be calling. I need you to stop by Sweet Pies today and pick up the cheesecakes I ordered for the party.” Straight to the point. That’s my mom. She’s never been a woman to waste time with pleasantries, especially when her annual ugly sweater Christmas party is on the line. She claims it’s fun to get everyone together for a party, but I think she likes to torture me with light-up reindeer sweaters.
Stocking Stuffers: A Five Story Christmas Anthology Page 17
