The Holly Hearth Romantic Comedy Collection

by K B Cinder

  That all made my half-hour break particularly lovely while they were in gym class.

  Normally, I’d stay in the classroom and work on the next lesson, but I needed to escape the four walls. So I headed to the media lab to make copies of permission slips for next month’s field trip to the discovery museum upstate.

  It was empty as I entered, leaving the good copier free and clear for the taking. Usually, I was forced to tame the beige dinosaur that had somehow outlived a meteor strike or seven.

  I lined the paper up perfectly in the scanning window and hit the magic button, excited I’d have time to run to the lounge for a tea since I didn’t have to struggle with the paper-eating monster in the corner.

  As the machine did its business, I pulled my cell from my pocket, the deep-seated wonders the main selling point of my dress.

  Karine sent me a few pictures of her latest shenanigans - touring a potential manufacturer for her upcoming line of vibrators. I didn’t know what an assembly line of pocket rockets looked like, but she clued me in, and it was pretty buzz worthy.

  And a minion chainmail I love you text from Mom, the yellow men her latest obsession.

  I couldn’t help but be disappointed that there was nothing else. I didn’t want to hope for something more, but I did.

  Preferably a profession of like from someone whose name rhymed with Hash.

  I grabbed a sugar cookie from the open tin on the counter beside the copier, the latest homemade batch from the art teacher, Mrs. Higgins, calling out to my empty stomach.

  It tasted as amazing as I hoped, the crust having the right amount of snap while the inside was soft and velvety. I’d died and gone to cookie heaven.

  The door opened, so I slid my phone back in my pocket, beginning its exile until lunch rolled around, when I’d no doubt be as let down at a lack of a certain text. Even though I was sure he was waiting on me.

  I collected my papers and turned to leave, almost tripping over Clare who was waiting for the good copier.

  “Oh, uh, sorry,” I muttered, a little amused that I was apologizing to her at all when she was the one that slept with my boyfriend. Ahem, ex-boyfriend.

  “It’s okay.” She brushed a wave behind her ear, her long hair styled to perfection, much like her pointe pants and fitted blazer.

  She always looked so put together. Tasteful, minimal makeup. Fresh from the chair hair. Dainty pearl earrings.

  Maybe that’s what Brandon saw in her. I was a walking disaster nine times out of ten.

  But screw him. I was cute as hell. Messy buns, wrist hair ties, visible bra straps, and all.

  “I love your dress,” she offered, eyeing the piano-key design at the hem of its skirt. “Where’d you get it?”

  I tapped the papers on a nearby counter to stack them, ready to get out of dodge. A downpour of cookie crumbs fell from my bosom as I did, solidifying my place in the classy hall of fame. “Thanks. Marshalls.”

  She’d most likely never stepped foot in one. My discount store stomping grounds weren’t frequented by her type. From what I’d heard, Brandon’s latest obsession came from Manhattan money. At least that’s what the gossip mill turned up.

  She turned back to the copier, adjusting her document on the scanner. “It’s adorable.”

  I didn’t know if she was being serious or patronizing, but I didn’t care either way. I was the lucky one. She was stuck with a guy who still wanted to bone his ex.

  And speaking of the devil, he came waltzing into the media center, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his pressed slacks. He was handsome, as always, a vintage Hollywood hunk with the same brash, chauvinistic attitude that droves of women once salivated over. Some still might, but I wasn’t one of them.

  “You look sexy today, baby!” He bit his lip as he looked at me like a steak, clicking the door shut behind him.

  Clare turned at the copier with a smile, her happiness immediately fading as soon as she saw him staring at me and not her.

  Brandon’s color drained once he realized she was in the room too. “So sexy, Clare!” he added, always one to try for a smooth recovery.

  Seeing him in action made me sick. How had I ever been attracted to that?

  His response seemed to soothe her bruised feelings, her smile quickly returning. “Nice to see you, too, baby.”

  I turned to leave without another word, but Brandon stood in front of the door, clearly not planning on moving.

  “Are those Higgins’ cookies?” he asked, eyeing the tin of legendary Christmas goodies I’d just raided.

  “Yes.” I didn’t want to reply, but if it got him to move out of my way, I was willing to make the sacrifice.

  “Clarebear, you have to try one. They’re the best thing you’ll ever taste.” His eyes drifted back to me as she lined up another document in the scanner window, his hand gripping the bulge at the front of his pants. “Well, almost the best.”

  She looked over again, missing his disgusting display. “Sorry, I’m clean. No sugar. No dairy. No sweets whatsoever.”

  I burst out laughing, unable to contain it. She made a tin of cookies seem as deadly as heroin. Hell, I might stomp over and eat the whole thing just to spite them.

  Brandon smiled, knowing exactly why, while Clare merely looked annoyed, her chin tilting high like Pierogi’s when he was feeling saucy. Too bad I couldn’t put her in a crate when she acted up, too.

  “They really are delicious, babe. Staff fight over them. Among other things.” His eyes wandered back to me as he walked to the container, brushing against me while he passed.

  Psh, as if.

  “Until they get stale,” I added, meeting his stare when he popped a cookie in his mouth. “Then we throw them away and find something new.”

  I left for the lounge with papers in hand, leaving him choking on his cookie.

  13

  Hitting the bar to pregame before the holiday party wasn’t the best decision, but I was weak against peer pressure. Especially the kind delivered by a five-foot Brazilian.

  Karine was my date for the night, and if she wanted drinks, I had to oblige, or I’d be a bad date, and I couldn’t have that. And not indulging when we were using Ubers for the night would be criminal, of course.

  Karine was four beers deep to my one super sangria when we piled into the back of a car destined for the station, and by the looks of it, she was feeling every drop.

  “I love you, Juni,” she cooed, heading rolling across the leather seat to look at me. “I’m so happy you’re my best friend!”

  “Ditto, Rini.” I patted her thigh, the skin exposed in her silver mini dress.

  “Can you imagine if I didn’t have you? I would have only had Sage and Dash growing up!”

  “Sounds pretty terrible.”

  “Ugh, I know.” She burped loudly, the driver’s eyes meeting mine in alarm in the rearview mirror.

  “She’s good,” I assured, knowing she wasn’t a puker. That was all me, and I was in the clear, too.

  He continued along without another word, while Karine hummed the Jeopardy theme song, as offbeat and loud as one would expect.

  I didn’t know if he or I were more relieved when we finally reached the station. We said our thanks and parted ways, though I tipped him a ten for listening to her and not throwing us out.

  It was snowing, the white flakes sticking to my coat and hair as we waited to enter. The wind howled off the surrounding trees, sending the wet crystals dancing all around.

  Karine wasn’t feeling the chill in the air despite her skimpy outfit, snapping her fingers and wiggling her hips to the music overhead.

  Meanwhile, I was freezing my ass off in a dress and a pea coat, my feet screaming in my skyscraper red heels. I’d reached out about my elf attire and was assured it was all taken care of once they had my size. All I had to do was show up and change. Seemed easy enough.

  Initially, I thought it was a family event, but Sage had spilled the beans earlier in the week that it was an adult
s-only event. I’d never been to it before, but from what he’d said, it seemed like things could get rowdy, which made our pre-gaming harmless.

  The others in line had warmed up too, apparently, a mix of loud laughter and singing all around. The parking lot was full of party buses and u-turning ride-share drivers, exposing their booze habits more than the stench of beer in the air.

  “You look sexy tonight, sista!” Karine didn’t miss a beat in her one-woman dance show, though she did blow me a kiss.

  “Thanks, Rini.”

  Something told me it was going to be a long night. I didn’t mind, though. She was doing me a favor by coming along.

  “You are, too, but aren’t you cold?”

  She looked more than sexy in her silver sequined number, but she had to be freezing, only a flimsy crop jacket over her arms.

  “Psh, hoe life keeps me warm, Juni.”

  She was all but twerking by the time we made it in the door, a man dressed as an elf waving me over toward the makeshift bar area once we were inside.

  The space was clear of fire engines, the room transformed into an indoor winter wonderland. White linens shrouded the walls, while icicle lights and snowflake decor hung from the ceiling high above. Snow machines were sprinkled about, occasionally shooting out fake powder in spurts, one christening Karine a snow angel as we passed.

  “You’re Juniper Mullen, right?” the man asked once I reached him, a muscled thirty-something wearing a stocking cap with a jingle bell at the end.

  “Yes.” I was a little shocked he knew who I was. “And you are…?”

  “Brian. You’re one of my elves. Well, were. Norton gave me a picture.” He held up a print out of my Facebook profile picture in all its duck-face glory.

  It wasn’t a serious picture - a spoof one Karine had snapped that also made me look hella cute. And hopelessly stupid if someone thought I was being serious. Ugh.

  “Wait, were?” I sputtered, shoving embarrassment out of the way. “I’m not an elf anymore?”

  He smiled, handing me a sealed plastic bag. “Not quite.”

  I stared at the outfit in front of me, convinced it was a joke. There was no way Mr. Muscle Elf was serious.

  I peeked in the plastic bag, sure there was an actual elf outfit in there. But there wasn’t. I even flipped it upside down and shook it out in the narrow bathroom stall, but nothing came tumbling out to save me.

  I was going to have to stuff into an itty bitty Mrs. Claus bodysuit with fur-trimmed microscopic shorts and a plunging neckline. The only extra fabric was on its long sleeves and hood, both adorned with the same white fuzz as the shorts.

  Was I supposed to be some sort of skanky elf?

  I groaned, cursing myself for blindly agreeing to the volunteer job.

  “What’s wrong?” Karine’s head popped above the stall wall to my right.

  I shook the skimpy outfit at her. “This is what’s wrong!”

  “Thank God you shaved,” she cracked, assessing the bodysuit quickly. “You’ll look hot as hell in that, but that’s no elf.”

  “No shit, Nunes!” I growled, glancing down at my bra-clad breasts. Would the damn thing even fit over my boulders?

  “Live a little, Juni! I want to be a sexy Mrs. Santa!”

  I was tempted to hand it over and let her live out her fantasy before I remembered that I had to wear it. I’d given my word. I didn’t have a lot, so I held its value near and dear.

  “Dammit,” I grumbled, unzipping it to step inside. I’d wear it, but I was keeping my black sheer tights on. I deserved a shred of modesty since I’d be showing my liver and then some. “I’m going to look ridiculous.”

  “Probably,” Karine laughed, disappearing from view to relieve some of the beer brewing in her bladder.

  I squatted a bit to settle the jumpsuit into place before zipping it up, the cut pushing my breasts awkwardly high in a weird fabric boob job. Other than the exposed tatas, it fit shockingly well.

  I stuffed my clothing in the costume bag before stepping out of the stall, Karine washing her hands at the sink.

  Her eyes met mine in the mirror, and she smiled wide. “Bow chicka bow wow WOW!”

  I groaned at my reflection. “I look like a polar prostitute.”

  “Santa will want to drag his toy sack across your face for sure!” Karine shimmied from side to side as she cackled.

  “I never liked you,” I groused, smoothing my hair in the mirror. My barrel curls had been tousled by the wind and snow, turning a sultry look into something wet and wild.

  “Let’s have some fun!’ Karine reached under her dress, her hands returning to view a moment later with a small silver flask.

  I stared at her in disbelief. “You smuggled hooch in your cooch?”

  “I wish. It’s a thigh flask, you perv.” She threw back a swig before shoving it my way. “Take a sip, you’ll need it.”

  I shook my head and held my hands up. “No thanks, lady.”

  “Come on, live a little!” Karine groaned.

  “That’s easy to say when you’re not staring down a night dressed like this.” My feet already hurt thinking about standing around in my heels. For some reason, I thought they’d supply elf shoes. Whatever those were.

  “So, take a drink, and buckle up!” she challenged, still holding the flask out.

  I took it and obeyed, horrified to find it was straight vodka. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand as I thrust it to her. “You’re a savage.”

  She smiled, sliding the flask back in place under her dress. “I am, but you love me.”

  When we returned to the main area, I headed to the bar, tucking the bag with my clothes under the shelf for safe keeping before turning to Brian, the muscled elf, who was waiting impatiently.

  “Ready?” he asked with a raised brow. He would have looked menacing if he weren’t dressed in head to toe green with red and white striped stockings.

  “Why do you get to dress like that, and I have to look like I’m for sale?” I griped.

  He even had awesome jingly elf shoes. Flat jingly elf shoes that looked a hell of a lot comfier than my heels.

  He laughed and shook his head. “Because I’m an elf.”

  “So am I!” I protested, planting my hands on my hips, the crushed velour foreign under my fingertips.

  His shook his head again, his smile widening. “Nope.”

  “That’s what I signed up for.” Had I known I’d be an elf escort, I would have opted out.

  He handed me a sign from under the bar, the large snowball reading ho in thick, black letters. “You’re a ho now.”

  I laughed, my head falling back as I stared at the ceiling in disbelief. “You have to be kidding me.”

  “It’ll be fun.” He flashed another bright smile, friendliness chasing away the grump I’d first met.

  “So, whose ho am I?” I asked, eyes drifting around the room for a sign of where I’d spend my night.

  “Santa’s.” He gave me a duh expression before gesturing toward the corner, a plush red chair beside a spiral staircase and fireman’s pole, the area adorned with poinsettias and tinsel. In the chair sat a man in a red Santa suit, the jacket unbuttoned entirely to reveal abs and black suspenders. A white beard hid the man’s face, but his fixed stare on me told me exactly who it was.

  Dash.

  Shit.

  14

  I wandered to my post outside of Santa’s Sin Cave, as the candy cane sign above it read, the adult rating of the night obvious throughout. Bared skin. Shot trays. Raunchy gingerbread men.

  So far, I was the only ho, a sea of burly man-elves making up my company, their muscled bodies wrapped in thin, green polyester.

  Karine practically pissed herself laughing when she saw my ho sign, snapping a selfie with me that she immediately posted on Insta. Tagging me, of course, deer-in-headlights look and all.

  I knew because my phone vibrated with a notification, the smart device tucked between my boobs. Unfortunately, the slutty
Santa attire didn’t come with pockets.

  I felt Dash’s eyes on me as I stood there like a statue, Karine dancing around me like her own stripper pole when she wandered close, pinging between me, the bar, and the dance floor.

  I hadn’t reached out to him since our kitchen rendezvous, too caught up with work to think about what I wanted. I had fourteen shrieking baboons to tend to, half of which were battling the sniffles. Slathering myself in Purell and popping vitamin C were at the top of my to-do list, not romance.

  Besides, it was lame to make me decide what I wanted. I couldn’t be trusted with a houseplant, let alone a choice like that. The Juni side wanted to throw caution to the wind and try things out, but the rational side knew there would be hell to pay.

  Making a conscious decision one way or the other was harder than just going with the flow. Something Karine was doing effortlessly as she moved to the beat overhead, rapping along with Vanilla Ice.

  “Juni! Let’s get a picture with Santa!” She tugged on my arm, eager to do the deed before it got too packed.

  “I can’t. I’m volunteering.”

  I wasn’t sure doing what, exactly, since it seemed I’d just be standing there all night like a prop. The elves happily did little jigs together, but I couldn’t in my pumps, especially with my boobs planning an escape out the top of my jumper at any given moment.

  She tugged my wrist again, her face drawn with a dramatic pout and puppy-dog eyes. “Come on! It’ll be epic! Please!”

  I glanced at the crowd, most people waiting in line at the bar or dancing rather than worrying about photos with Dash. I might as well get the picture over with. Plus, we always got pictures with Santa. Why not get one with a sexy Santa?

  I let her lead me over, Dash’s eyes appreciating every exposed inch as I neared.

  “Ho! Ho! Ho!” he greeted, his voice deepened for the full Father Christmas experience.

  “Hey there, Santa.” I smoothed the fur trim of my shorts, the bushy fabric bizarre between my thighs.

  “Are you my elf?” he laughed as he studied my outfit. “I don’t remember elves looking like that as a kid.”