Mr. Naughty: A Second Chance Christmas Romance

by Kara Hart

  “Well, kid,” I laugh with her. “It’s time to hang out with Uncle Hanson.”

  “Whatever,” she says, staring back at the house, as we drive away.

  Whatever. Thank God.

  “Oh my God, is this Lisa?” Emily’s eyes widen. She exudes a deep glow as she runs over to see my daughter.

  “Say hey, Lisa,” I say. How wet is Emily right now? Is it twisted to even think that?

  “Hey,” she waves, still annoyed.

  “Hey!” Emily squeals. Her smile is the cutest damn thing in the world. Her skin is creamy and smooth. Her lips shine against the incoming sunlight, red and plump. I need this woman. I need her now, in my office, but I don’t know how to broach the subject.

  “Lisa, this is Emily Carter.” I smile. “She’s a new employee”

  Lisa shrugs. But after a second, she glances back and nods. “Cool. Hey,” she says.

  “Jesus, Michael. You can’t bring her around here,” Hanson says. “She’s too damn precious.”

  “Hanson, stop playing around so much,” Lisa quips back.

  “She’s my number one,” I laugh.

  Emily smiles, but knows exactly how much distance to keep. I swear, she takes to her better than Susan. Susan’s main thing is to just ignore her most of the time and hope for the best.

  “I love your lip gloss,” Emily whispers. “You’ll have to tell me where you got it.” She’s motherly. I can’t help but notice it. I shouldn’t be thinking these things. I don’t need a mother for Lisa. Susan has that taken care of… sort of. But when you have a child, it’s nearly impossible not to notice those things. It’s especially hard when your daughter becomes a teenager. At this point, I can barely even get a word in edgewise. Now, my observations are completely centered around this kid.

  “I need to get a sitter,” I tell Hanson. “I have her for the next two days.”

  “I don’t need a sitter,” Lisa says. “I’m practically an adult.”

  “Yeah. She’s fine in here,” he says, while hammering in some nails.

  Dust flies up around him and he coughs lightly. He puts on his facemask and looks up at me. “No way. My daughter isn’t growing up with sawdust in her lungs,” I tell him.

  “She can hang out inside,” Emily says.

  She’s right, of course. She’s not five anymore. Sometimes I forget. “Sorry, I guess I just forget how old you are sometimes,” I tell Lisa. “Did you ever have siblings, Emily?”

  “Unfortunately, I’m an only child,” she says. “But I’ve always liked kids. Maybe it’s just a woman thing or something.”

  Hanson laughs and shakes his head. “You should see Susan. She barely touches her,” he says.

  “Come on, Hanson. No crap talking in front of the kid.” I sigh. He’s not wrong, but I can’t let him talk shit about my ex-wife all the time. It just doesn’t look good.

  “I’ll take care of her,” Emily says, out of the blue.

  “What?” I laugh.

  “You said you needed a sitter. I can take care of her,” she says. “I mean, not during work hours, but after. It wouldn’t be a problem. I don’t really have anything to do at night.”

  “What the heck,” Lisa says. “I don’t need a sitter.”

  I raise my brows, ignore my daughter’s complaints, and place my hands in my pockets. Emily really is proving to be the perfect woman. “Seriously? I mean, I’d love that.”

  “Yeah, just pay me hourly and we’ll be fine,” she says. I stutter a little, but she holds her hand up. “I’m only joking. I’d do it for free.”

  “If you’re watching my kid, I’m going to pay you,” I tell her.

  Hanson slaps his hand on a piece of wood. “I’ll take care of the damn kid if you’re paying!” he exclaims.

  “You think I trust you around her? Give me a break,” I say.

  “Fair enough,” he says.

  “Let’s talk after work,” I say. “We could get a drink somewhere. Hanson can watch her for an hour.”

  “Oh, so now you trust me, when it’s convenient for you.” He throws up his arms.

  “Sounds good,” Emily says, with a slight blush.

  I want her. I need her. And I’m getting her tonight.

  Emily

  “It feels good to just relax a little,” I say. He hands me a beer and clinks my bottle.

  “Yeah, tell me about it,” I say. “Seeing my ex-wife for one second of the day always kills me a little.” Whenever he mentions the ex-wife, I feel a tinge of jealousy. I know he doesn’t like her and they obviously have had a rough past, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s so connected to her in a multitude of ways. It just irks me to no end.

  “Yeah, well, you’re here now. Hanson took Lisa to the park. You can unwind,” I say. I look at his muscles, pressing against his shirt and breathe heavily.

  “You’re right,” he says, looking straight into my eyes. He doesn’t say another word, but I know what he’s thinking. He’s thinking worse things than I am and it paralyzes me.

  I’m wet. Sitting here, in the place that I work, I’m wet, and he can sense it. My face instantly turns red. I stand up and walk over to a book that’s sitting on a shelf. “You like to read?” I ask him, trying to change the subject.

  He stands up and moves toward me. My back is to him, as I pretend to read through the pages. It’s so quiet in here, now that all the tools are turned off and Hanson has gone home. The only sound that can be heard is his footsteps and my breathing.

  He grabs the book and throws it on the ground, far away from us. “Michael…” I turn and he’s right in front of me. “I—” He puts his finger on my lips to keep me from talking. He shakes his head slowly and places his hands around my waist.

  My heart is beating so quickly that I actually feel faint. I’ve been waiting for this ever since I saw him in the driveway, soaked in rain, but now that he’s touching me like this, I’m scared shitless. “We don’t need to talk anymore,” he says.

  “Yeah…” I mutter. My eyes dart up towards his, but I get scared again. I quickly lower them to the floor, only to bring them back up. He doesn’t take his gaze off me at all.

  I feel the gravitational pull coming. His head moves toward mine and I close my eyes, blocking out the rest of the world. When I feel his lips against mine, it’s everything and more. My legs grow weak. I fall against the table, spreading them open for him. He grabs the top button of my jeans and forces it through the loop.

  “What’s happening?” I whisper.

  “You know what’s happening,” he says. “You know that I’ve wanted you since I heard your timid voice on the phone. When you walked up that driveway, I knew I’d have to cross this line. I’m not the kind of guy who holds back.”

  “But your ex,” I whisper. “Won’t she—”

  “I said, I’m not holding back,” he says.

  “Then don’t,” I say.

  He kisses me again. This time, my lips open up for him and I feel his tongue slide against mine. He tastes good, like alcohol and sex. I smell his cologne and I am fucking dripping for him. He unzips my jeans and slowly slides them down my ankles. I reach out and touch him. He’s harder than I expected and completely ready for me.

  His palm folds over me and squeezes lightly. He moves it up and down, and forcibly takes off his own jeans. “You want me, don’t you?” he asks.

  I nod my head, slow and deliberate. My eyes say it now. I want him so fucking bad. “Yes, Daddy.” I smile.

  He grabs my cheeks and presses down gently. He smiles, but it’s more ominous than anything, and shakes his head. “I want you so fucking bad. Right here. On this table,” he says.

  He tears both our shirts off and wraps his right hand around my waist. His cock lays firmly against my pussy. This is it, I think to myself. This is the moment of pleasure I’ve been waiting for. Finally.

  “Fuck me,” I whisper.

  But outside, there are footsteps and they’re coming closer. “Shit,” he sighs, grab
bing his things. “Come on. Hurry.”

  “What the fuck, Michael?” I ask. But he quickly scoops everything up and runs inside, grabbing my hand and pulling me with him. “Don’t tell me that’s your ex-wife or something,” I say.

  “It’s my ex-wife or something,” he says, pulling me into a one of the guest rooms. “Hurry and put on your clothes.”

  “I can’t believe this is happening.” I sigh and put on my panties. I throw my shirt back on and shake my head. I’m pissed off, embarrassed, and slightly scared.

  “Yeah, well, I’m supposed to be with the kid and this doesn’t look too good,” he says.

  “Whatever. I’m just your employee. It’s fine,” I say.

  “Well…” He sighs. “She doesn’t exactly know I hired you on.”

  “What?” My eyes widen. “Are you kidding me? You didn’t tell your wife?”

  “She’s not my wife,” he corrects me.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. The woman who bore your child. Is that better?” I roll my eyes and put on my shoes.

  “Michael?” Susan’s voice echoes through the halls downstairs.

  “Come on,” he says. He opens the door slowly and walks to his office. “I’m up here, in the office!” he yells.

  I cannot believe it. Of all the things, I can’t believe he’s hiding this from his ex-wife. The real question is why? Why is he so afraid of what she’ll do or say? Why can’t he just man up? So, I ask him, straight up. “Why?”

  “She owns half of the business. She would have never agreed to hire you,” he says. “And I needed to hire you.”

  My face turns warm and I have to admit, it feels good when he tells me that. Still, it doesn’t change the fact that this is all fucked up now.

  Susan walks to the door and opens it. “There you are. Oh,” she stops herself and laughs a little. “And who is this?”

  “Susan, welcome our new employee,” Michael says. “Emily Carter.”

  “Hello,” I smile and extend a hand out. She doesn’t attempt to shake it. Instead, she stands above me, analyzing everything about me. “I didn’t know you hired someone. You said you were still going through the process,” she says.

  “I was, but I decided ten minutes ago. Emily is incredibly qualified,” he says.

  I nearly fall out of my chair. My eyes dart at him, feeling like there’s flames coming from my pupils. Highly qualified. Does that mean highly fuckable?

  “So, what’s up? What do you need?” Michael asks Susan.

  “I just came to say hi to Lisa. Where the hell is she?” she asks.

  “Hanson has her,” he says. At least he’s not lying anymore.

  “Hanson? Why in god’s name does Hanson have our daughter?” she asks. She leans over and touches the wall, as if she’s stunned or out of breath.

  “He said he’d take her to the park. What the hell, Susan? She’s fine. Hanson is watching her,” he says. “Now come on, what is it that you want?”

  “Nothing. I’ll leave. Clearly, you don’t want me here.” She glares at me. “Call me tonight. We need to talk about things.”

  She walks downstairs, heels clicking each step, sending anxiety throughout my body. Finally, I hear the door close and I feel all the tension in my body release. “What the fuck?” I ask him. “That was…” I can’t even finish my sentence. That was more than a panic attack. That was painful.

  “Yeah. Sorry. She’s a witch,” he says. “I was fine with getting a divorce. A little sad and shocked when it happened, but I got over it in a lot of ways, faster than I thought. When the proceedings happened and I realized she wanted to stay with the business, I was taken aback. Now, I have to deal with this shit on a weekly basis.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry for you,” I say, sarcastically. “Look, I should go.”

  “Don’t,” he says. “Stay.”

  “I can’t. You’re right. You have a lot of responsibilities tied up in this thing. I’m just an employee. What business do I have prying into your personal life? I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early,” I say, grabbing my purse and starting to walk toward the hallway to the stairs.

  He stumbles on some words, but ultimately doesn’t say a thing back to me. He lets me walk outside, onto the dusty streets. I get into my car and close my eyes, listening to the sounds of cars pass us by, streets ahead. I thought we could jump into this thing, have some fun, and take some risks. In the end, the danger was just too much, I guess. Worst part is, the crush I have for him is still front and center, in every cell of my body.

  I can’t let go, but I must. I have to put this all aside. Sex, feelings, and all of the garbage that comes along with it is just not worth it. The pain and embarrassment is just too much.

  Michael

  Fuck. This whole thing just turned into complete shit because of Susan. How am I not surprised? She wanted to break away from me, clean and simple, but of course, nothing is ever that easy for her. She always has to have the upper hand. She is always finding a way to make it harder on me because of what I’ve done and said.

  I drank myself stupid during that pregnancy. I’m not proud of it. I’ve said so many terrible things to her, out of spite. She made my life a living hell on a day to day basis, so eventually, I grabbed a bottle of whiskey, tilted my head back, and let myself drown in its contents.

  It’s not something I’m proud of. It haunts me every single day. I just couldn’t stop. It was my only comfort. During those lonely nights, she’d scream at me, telling me how worthless I was. As a man, you just want to break things when you hear that kind of shit. You want to detonate the highest mountain in the world. You want to watch it all burn because you know there ain’t any way of getting your power back. She sucked it all up with a giant smile on her ugly face.

  So, I know I’ve made my mark on her too. There’s no doubting that. I should have left a long time ago, before I got in too deep with Susan. But there are no doubts about her. Lisa is my life. Though she’s connected to Susan, she’s still the best thing to have ever happened to me. She’s made me a better human being.

  When I go downstairs to open the garage, I peak in her bedroom. She’s fast asleep and dreaming good dreams. She has no idea about the pain of life, yet. I feel as if it’s my duty to shield her from all of that. It’s my duty to work hard and create something better for her. God knows, I wish someone did that for me.

  I close the door and head to the garage. When I open it, Emily is standing in front of me. “Morning,” she mutters, before walking past me to her workbench.

  “Right, morning,” I reply. I glance outside for Hanson, but he’s not here yet. He still has ten minutes before the shift actually starts. I turn around and Emily is avoiding all eye contact with me. “Look, we should talk,” I say.

  “There’s nothing to talk about, really,” she says.

  “Emily, we work together. We need to talk about what happened,” I say. I walk over to her desk.

  She sighs loudly, clearly frustrated and says, “Nothing happened. Remember? Nothing.”

  “So, that’s it? You’re done with all of this? You’re going to just forget everything we felt in that moment?” I ask her, getting pissed off myself. Hers was the sweetest kiss I’ve ever tasted, the finest body I’ve ever felt, and the purest soul I’ve ever almost touched. I just can’t let it be done. Not yet.

  She sets her bag down and leans back in her chair. She closes her eyes and tries to remain calm. “Sometimes, it just works out like that,” she says. “When I think back on yesterday, I just feel sickly embarrassed. It’s not something I want to feel anymore. I’d rather just drop it and move on. We’re grown adults, Michael. It’s not that hard.”

  “Alright,” I throw my hands up and turn around. “I won’t argue with you about it. You’re right. We’re adults.”

  “Good,” she says, getting the final word in.

  I sit down at my own desk and look away from her. Hanson walks in and stops at the entrance. “Why the hell is it so quiet in here?” he ask
s us.

  I stand up and smile. “Just tired, man,” I say. “I hate to do this, but I have to go. Susan shit.”

  “Are you kidding me? You’ve been neglecting this job for the past week, man. You’re really leaving again?” he asks.

  “Yeah, I’m leaving. When you own a company, there are things you need to take care of,” I say.

  “Like your ex-wife? Okay, dude. Have fun with that,” he says.

  “It doesn’t matter. Can you check on Lisa every so often? I’ll be back in two hours,” I say. I leave without looking back at Emily, even though I’m dying to.

  “Wait, man!” he shouts. I don’t wait. “Dammit.”

  I need to make things right and I don’t want to have to wait until she’s done with me to do it. This Emily girl is a fucking treasure. Most guys probably take one look at her and know that. I’m not waiting for them to swoop her up. She’s going to be mine.

  I head downtown and stop at a small florist I used to see semi-regularly, back when I was married. When I walk inside, her eyes light up. “Michael Vanderbilt,” she says. “Where the heck have you been all this time?”

  The owner is an old woman, about 75 years old, with a big hunched back. She’s fiery, sweet, and completely understanding, even if she likes to give people a hard time. “Hannah,” I laugh. “I’m sorry, I’ve been—”

  “You’ve been letting this place go to waste, that’s what,” she says.

  “I’m really sorry, Hannah. I haven’t had much need for flowers lately. Susan and I separated,” I say.

  “Everyone has need for flowers. Plants, flowers… they’re life, Michael. Good for you on the divorce. I never thought you were good together, anyway,” she says. “But you held onto that first wave of love so tightly that you couldn’t see when it had faded away.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “Appreciate that.”

  She laughs and holds out her hand. “No, no! It’s okay, right? You’ve found a new spark. I can see it in your eyes and wallet,” she cackles.

  “Actually, yeah,” I say.