The Holly Hearth Romantic Comedy Collection

by K B Cinder

  Tears pricked my eyes in an instant, but rather than finding horror on his face when I looked down, Rebel looked angry.

  “Shut up. You’re beautiful.”

  “I was in an accident,” I started, but he feathered his lips across the scar and silenced me, trailing them over my thigh to rest at my panties.

  Rather than push them to the side as he did before, he pulled them down and exposed all of me, his nostrils flaring as he leaned in.

  His breath tickled my flesh before his mouth found my center, licking, sucking, and fucking me with his tongue all at once.

  My hands sunk in his hair, and I forgot all about the scar.

  About the shame that came with it.

  About the plastic strap on my ankle picking up God-knows-what.

  The only thing that mattered was Rebel.

  12

  Lev

  I fucked up.

  More specifically, I fucked Soraya.

  I didn’t just fuck her, either.

  I fucked her in a supply closet during class, and then I tongue-fucked her again afterward.

  I fucked her hard. I fucked her slow.

  I made her ride me. I took her from behind.

  I slapped her ass until it was red and then ate her pussy again to make up for it.

  The Olympic fuck fest left us both wobble-legged and slick with sweat as we carried ourselves to the parking lot, sated and exhausted.

  I’d be a liar to say it was a spur-of-the-moment act. I’d bought condoms and slipped two of those fuckers in my wallet that morning, knowing damn well what it could lead to.

  I had the chance to avoid disaster again after the first time, but I didn’t. I looked that mistake in the eye, fucked it, and then fucked it again.

  “Dad, how was your meeting?” Izzy asked, pulling me out of my guilt trip.

  “It was fine,” I muttered, pushing my pasta around the plate. She caught me doing it, too, so I stabbed at the noodles with a half-hearted smile.

  She’d tried, and even if undercooked, I had to eat them. She was too proud of herself to let the meal go to waste. 

  “Did you learn anything?”

  All those years of asking about her schooldays were flying back in my face as she peppered me with questions. I wasn’t mad at her. Honestly, I welcomed the conversation. I enjoyed talking to my kids.

  But I hated lying to them.

  Like the answers to her questions, that meeting was a lie. As far as the girls knew, every Thursday brought a meeting at the station, not therapy.

  Cass knew I’d punched her ex-boyfriend in the face—she saw it with her own eyes—but as far as she knew, I’d gotten off scot-free. I didn’t mention the therapy or the shit patrols the Chief assigned as a result. Those didn’t matter. The only thing that did was that a punk kid learned not to touch my daughter.

  I twirled the hard fettucine around my fork, its fibers crackling with every spin. “Not really. How was school?”

  “Meh,” she replied, grabbing a sip of water. “We’re starting Shakespeare, and I’m already over it. I went through that phase last year.”

  “At least you’ll be ahead,” I reasoned, looking to Cass who hadn’t said a word since I walked in the door. “How was school, Blue?”

  She made a face at my nickname about her hair, ignoring Izzy’s pasta creation in favor of swirling the ice in her glass. “It sucked.”

  I set down my fork, relieved to have an excuse not to shove the raw pasta into my mouth. “Why?”

  Cass shrugged. “It’s school. School always sucks.”

  “Not true!” Izzy disputed before taking a bite out of her garlic bread.

  “Yes, true,” Cass shot back. “Wait til you get older, and you have calculus and chemistry, and homework out the ass.”

  “Cass…” I warned.

  “Oh, can I sign up for a gym membership?” she asked, flipping the script and catching me off-guard.

  “What?”

  I must’ve heard her wrong. Cass actually wanted to do an activity that didn’t involve her cell phone, music, or an army of shrieking teenaged girls staying the night? No way.

  Cass cocked her head to the side with pursed lips. “For the place I’m taking classes at. I want to start working out.”

  “Sure,” I answered, eyeing her suspiciously. “Any reason why?”

  She gave me another face dripping with attitude. “I like it there, okay? It’s nice to get out once in a while. You can’t keep me locked up like Rapunzel forever.”

  “I don’t keep you locked up, period,” I corrected. “You’re free to come and go as you please as long as you’re in by ten. And as long as you‘re not grounded. It’s not my fault that you can’t stay out of trouble.”

  “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to not be a cop at home, too,” she snarled. “You can’t treat this house like a prison.”

  “Stop breaking the rules, and you’ll stop getting grounded.”

  I didn’t know how else to get that through to her. I’d only said it a thousand times. Maybe I’d paint that on her wall instead of the black like she’d asked.

  Cass pushed her plate out with a sigh, the glass sliding against the wood. “Can I be excused?” 

  “I don’t know; can you?” It was petty, but I really wasn’t in the mood for her shit. I was up to my ears in my own.

  “May I be excused, warden?” she repeated, lacing the first word with poison.

  “Yes,” I replied, annoyed she hadn’t touched much of her pasta. She could’ve pretended like I did. Izzy tried to cook when I got home from group, wanting to be a helper. “But only if you promise to lose the attitude.”

  “I’ll think about it,” she growled, leaving the dining nook to stomp into the kitchen.

  Her fork scraped loudly against her plate as she emptied it into Chomp’s bowl, and the lumbering beast slowly rose to shuffle over and raid his noodle jackpot.

  I waited until she’d barreled up the stairs to eye Izzy, who was busy twirling her pasta.

  Watching her, my chest tightened. She really was too good of a kid. Too damned good to come from me. Too good to come from Jocelyn. Our baby wasn’t a baby anymore, and it killed me to know that Jocelyn willingly missed out on it without a care in the world.

  “Thanks for making dinner, Izz.”

  She reached for the grated parmesan. “Thanks for eating it. I know it sucks.”

  “That’s not…” I started, but she shot me the look.

  She dusted her plate with the good stuff before going back to twirling. “You always tell me not to lie, so don’t lie to me. Next time, help me, and tell me what to do.”

  “Deal,” I agreed. “But I need your help too. Why does Cass want to go to the gym all of a sudden? Usually her only exercise is running her mouth at me.”

  Izzy giggled, raising her fork. “She has a friend there. The girl at the front desk is super nice.”

  “Well, at least it’s not Tony,” I muttered.

  She rolled her eyes like a mini Cass, scaring me for a second. “Dad, Tony is old news. She’s all about girl-power now. You bought her the Lizzo album, remember? She’s back to thinking boys are lame.”

  I leaned back in my chair, studying the little nugget of wisdom across the table from me. “I guess I should’ve bought that the first time she asked then.”

  Once Izzy and Cass went to their rooms for the night, the demons came back. The ones that danced on my shoulders during a piss, reminding me that my dick smelled like sex.

  Sex with Soraya.

  To shut them up, I cranked on the shower, pulling my wallet from my pocket to toss on the vanity with my phone. As I did, a business card fluttered out, helicoptering to the floor.

  I ignored it to place my clothes in the hamper and climb into the shower, wanting to scrub the scent of sex off of me before I started fantasizing about doing it again.

  Twice was enough. It was two times too many, and with three classes left, I couldn’t afford to f
uck it up.

  I scrubbed myself until my skin was red; the shower set to blistering heat to power away any trace of her. I shoved my face into the spray to take away her taste and stayed under it until my lungs burned to be sure it was gone.

  With the mistake washed away, I stepped out and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around my waist as I snatched my phone and wallet.

  I spied the fallen business card as I did, fishing it from the floor.

  I didn’t remember getting one that day, but I could’ve stuck it in my pocket in passing and forgot. When I was busy, I could tune out like a motherfucker.

  I fingered the thick card stock, finding a tooth staring back at me along with Main Street Dental. It definitely wasn’t my card. I stopped going to that quack years earlier when he fucked up a root canal.

  I flipped it over, finding an appointment reminder along with Soraya and a phone number.

  “When the fuck…?” I trailed, but a knock at the door grabbed my attention.

  “Are you almost done in there? I need to pee!” Cass whined. “Other people live here too, ya know? What happened to five minutes is long enough for a shower?”

  I tucked the card between my phone and wallet before pulling the door open to a red-faced Cass.

  “Oh, gross! You could put on clothes, dude! What if I had friends over?” she groaned as she shielded her eyes as if the bare chest of her father was dog diarrhea.

  “It’s after ten on a school night, so I’d hope you wouldn’t. You should be in bed, pee-pee princess.”

  She scrunched her face and shouldered past me as I stepped into the hallway. “It smells like a man in here!” she squawked as she slammed the door.

  “Would you rather I use your Bath & Bullshit body wash?” I called, earning a grunt.

  I smirked as I headed down the hall to my room, shutting and locking the door once inside.

  I set my wallet on the dresser before padding to the bed with my phone and the mystery card in hand, still trying to figure out when Soraya had slipped it to me.

  Or why, really.

  She didn’t seem like someone who wanted to connect outside of the physical, unless that’s still what she was after. Even if she wanted it, it couldn’t happen for more than just reasons on my end. She was still on house arrest, for whatever reason, a reason I wanted to know more than ever now that I’d had her.

  She didn’t seem like a thief, but then again, most thieves didn’t.

  I still thumbed through my wallet a second after the thought occurred to me.

  All my cash was still there, as were my cards. A thief would’ve gone for the wallet, but she didn’t.

  Drugs didn’t seem like her scene either. I didn’t miss the faces she made whenever Jonathan went on about his benders. They were the faces of someone that wanted no part of that life.

  That left me right back where I started: Clueless.

  I stared at the card for a long moment before ignoring every shout of common sense to enter the number into my contact list and send a text.

  Hey.

  Not my best work, but I was curious what she’d write back to a strange number. That might aid in my search to figure out who exactly I’d fucked, considering she was the first woman on the receiving end of my dick in over a year.

  Usually, I took them to dinner first, we’d go to her place, and let things happen naturally, but obviously that wasn’t in the cards. Nor was the after part, when we’d hang out a few times until everything fizzled out.

  Women loved to tout dating a single dad, but the moment you turned down a date to tend to your kids, you were on her shit list. Others would get offended if I didn’t introduce them to the girls right away.

  They’d met one girlfriend out of at least a dozen flings over the years, and I’d learned my lesson. Their heartache was worse than mine, and they’d never meet another woman unless she was the one.

  Sparky: Who’s this?

  I don’t know why I smiled at her name. I’d been the one to put it in. But it still entertained the hell out of me.

  Who do you think it is?

  It would’ve been a lot easier for us both if she’d texted back something awful. Then this madness would stop. But as my phone buzzed in my hand again, I knew it was just getting started.

  Sparky: I told you I’ll be on the camera with the 12-incher tonight, jeez. My pussy needed a break. Took a pounding earlier.

  I blinked, trying to make sense of what I was reading before my phone buzzed again.

  Sparky: Gotcha, Inkblot ;)

  Oh, someone had jokes.

  Well, I did, too.

  Really? I was just texting to see if you found my keys in there. I can’t find them.

  I sat on the bed, chuckling softly as her response dots stopped and started at least a dozen times.

  I could picture her there cussing me out, probably in bed already for the night. Hopefully wearing the hell out of a pair of sleep shorts that her ass devoured. Maybe in a tank top with her nipples poking through.

  Sparky: No keys, sorry. But I found your balls in my back pocket.

  A genuine laugh rumbled through me as I leaned back into the blankets.

  As funny as it was, a part of me knew she wasn’t wrong.

  13

  Raya

  Chaos.

  The word summed up the scene before me better than anything as my sisters struggled to rein in the human larvae that writhed and cried around our parents’ living room, refusing to sit still for a group photo.

  My sisters and I already had ours shot on the front steps to capture a sliver of normalcy before life descended into hell, our hair and makeup freshly styled by the team Rini hired to come to the house.

  At least we looked cute there.

  Since then, anarchy.

  My nieces, Jada and Ava, screeched endlessly after Sage asked them to quiet down, while Vida transformed into the kid from the Exorcist, projectile vomiting across the carpet after chugging Rini’s kale smoothie.

  Lita’s curls transformed into a mane of Medusa’s unruly snakes as she struggled to control her daughter, Jada, and Rini lipstick smeared from downing sips of wine between juggling kids.

  Mama kneeled with the steam cleaner, doing her best to save the cream rug from staining, and Papa stood wide-eyed to the side with my brothers-in-law, Sage and Theron, frantic to make it all stop but clueless how.

  In the midst of the miniature human meltdown, Lita and Theron’s Labrador, Molly, alternated between howling with Gordo and Porco and sprinting around the house like a nutcase.

  I hurried to the kitchen for treats, corralling the dogs into the basement and shutting the door to at least cut down on some insanity.

  It wasn’t how I’d expected my Sunday off to go by a long streak.

  We were supposed to shoot family photos, have a cute catered lunch on the deck, and then relax as a group. Not man the trenches in World War Child.

  My cotton blouse itched like the devil as I headed back into the splash zone with frosted animal crackers, finding Vida pouting with her hand on her belly as Rini smoothed her hair into place and whispered sweet nothings.

  I shook the bag, grabbing the attention of Jada and Ava, who finally stopped screaming long enough for me to hear the steam cleaner running.

  The photographer looked to me with relief, and I felt like the baby whisperer.

  I stuck a hand in the bag, extracting three pink crackers. “Sit still for the camera, and you get a cookie!” I shouted, competing with the wail of the steam cleaner for their undivided attention.

  Vida sniffled, but obeyed, pulling away from Rini to sit between her sister and cousin on the sofa.

  The girls were red-faced, but they held still, and that’s all that mattered.

  We were one step closer to eating, nap time, and silence.

  “Smile!” I cheered, and two out of three did, with Vida grimacing more than smiling after her puke party.

  But it was good enough.

 
; The photographer held a thumb up. “We got it!”

  I could’ve kissed him, but I settled for tossing cookies at the girls like a dog trainer instead.

  With lunch testing the confines of my belly, us Nunes women hid on the deck with wine for a much-needed breather while the men soothed the girls to sleep in the living room in a tradeoff. It was only fair after we’d handled the first leg of battle as they observed.

  Well, I mostly handled it with my cracker trick.

  Each brother-in-law had a kid to rock, though Papa stepped in and handled vomiting Vida, who’d subsequently upchucked the pink animal crackers across the sofa after our photo finish.

  Mama wasn’t happy about it, but she locked herself in the basement to read with the dogs while she and her blood pressure simmered down.

  “How many weeks left until I can kidnap you?” Lita asked as she snatched an olive off Rini’s plate. “I need a baker.”

  “Five,” I replied, having just completed class number three that Thursday.

  “Come work with me when you’re done,” she said, though Rini shot her a hard look.

  “She needs to prove herself outside of electronic babysitting,” Rini warned, taking a sip of Prosecco. “You have a business, and as much as I love you, Raya, you’ve caused a shit ton of headaches around here.”

  “I’ve been doing fine!” I defended, sitting up straight in my chair, even as a text buzzed my phone in my pocket. One I knew came from Rebel. He’d texted me every day throughout the day, breaking up the time with pokes or cheek-reddening messages about how he planned on fucking me next. “I’ve stayed out of trouble since the accident.”

  Rini narrowed her eyes. “Really, Ry? Anything? Or is that just since this little anklet joined your wardrobe?”

  I stiffened. “Why are you coming at me? I just wrangled your kids when you couldn’t.”

  I might’ve been hooking up with a guy I wasn’t supposed to, but that meant nothing. I was living my life on the straight and narrow… mostly. Straight and a little curvy, maybe. But straight enough to stay in the lines.