'Tis the Season for Romance

by Kristen Proby

  Epilogue

  Harley

  One month later

  “I think we'll order take out,” I say to Rex, my furry rescue mutt. His tail thumps as I pull open my laptop to figure out what to order.

  The sleet is wreaking havoc outside my windows on the city below.

  But we still have power, and I have a new book to get started on. A new world to create. A new story to get lost in.

  My phone alerts a text, and I dismiss the unknown number . . . that is until I see the text: I’m here. In your city. Do you think we could meet up, or I could come over? I’m missing your magic. I’m missing you.

  The Right One

  Natasha Madison

  The Right One.

  * * *

  Copyright © 2020 Natasha Madison. E-Book.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons or living or dead, events or locals are entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ Use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  All rights reserved

  Chapter 1

  Leah

  “Hey, Mom,” I say as I answer my cell phone, pushing my shoulder up to keep the phone to my ear.

  “Hey, honey, just checking in,” my mother says as I spot my suitcase on the luggage belt. Walking forward and grabbing it, I place my purse on top of it and turn to walk out of the airport.

  “I just landed about ten minutes ago. What’s up?” I say. I don’t tell her that I’m home early because I got fired. Who fires someone a week before Christmas? I should have known something was up when my boss decided to come with me to one of the slowest bars that I have. Fired. The word echoed in my head over and over again during the whole plane ride home.

  “Nothing much. Just checking in to make sure you are still coming for Christmas,” she says, and I roll my eyes.

  “Yes, Mom,” I tell her, rolling my suitcase out. The cold air hits my cheeks right away. I put my head down and walk over to the taxi line. “We are still coming,” I reassure her.

  “I can’t wait to see you guys. You haven’t been home for Christmas in five years.” Her voice goes soft, and I feel guilty. The truth be told, Alan was always wishy-washy about spending the holidays with my parents. So what did we do? We went to a different beach each year and sipped Mai Tais instead of eggnog. Even though I would pretend to be okay with it, I frequently checked my social media for my brother's pictures.

  “I can’t wait to come home,” I tell her while a cab pulls up, and I get in. “It’s been a rough couple of weeks.” If only she fucking knew how long and how horrible it was. I look out the window as the city of New York passes me by.

  “Well, you give my best to Alan,” she says, and we hang up. When we pull up to my street, I look at all the brownstones. The street is tranquil, but what do you expect for ten o’clock in the morning?

  I walk up the steps, unlocking the front door, then slip my jacket off and take my shoes off. The sound of soft jazz music coming from the upstairs bedroom stops me in my tracks. This is strange. He’s usually at work by now or in his downstairs office if he is working from home. I’ve seen him maybe three days this whole month. Both of us travel and miss each other by a day. I’m about to call out his name when I hear the mumble of his voice. I walk up the stairs slowly, almost as if I know this moment will ruin my life.

  I hear voices and wonder if he is on the phone. I walk toward the door, seeing it open just a touch, and then I hear the words that knock me on my ass.

  “You haven’t fucked me that hard since we snuck off to the coat check on the night of my rehearsal dinner,” she says, and my heart drops. My neck burns, and my stomach suddenly comes up to my throat. “That was crazy,” she says. I peek inside the little crack, and there on my bed lies my married best friend and my husband, both naked. The two of them are panting and look like they’ve been going at it a while. She gets up from the bed and walks to the door, and it happens so fast I don’t think. I just stand there, and our eyes finally meet. She gasps out in shock, and Alan jumps out of the bed when he sees me.

  “Leah,” he says, coming to me, but my hand comes up, and he stops.

  “Please don’t let me interrupt this fuck fest,” I say, looking at my best friend—well, ex-best friend now—as she tries to cover herself. “I mean, I can’t remember the last time you fucked me hard either.” I laugh, and I have to wonder if I’m having a nervous breakdown. Alan grabs the throw blanket at the end of the bed and throws it to Shondra. “Aw,” I say, putting my hand to my chest, “how chivalrous of you.” He grabs the comforter off the bed and wraps it around his waist.

  “Leah,” Shondra says, and I look over at her. “I can explain.”

  “Oh please, fucking spare me the ‘this isn’t what it looks like,’” I say to her, and I see Alan walk over to her. “Here I was, thinking that you let me pour my heart out to you about my husband”—I point at her and start pacing in the hallway—“but all along, you guys were having sex with each other.” I look over at them. “When?” I wait for them to say something, anything, but I don’t give them time. “How?” I laugh again. “I mean, me going away, and then you staying at work late.” I slap my head with my hand. “Well, Merry fucking Christmas.” I turn around and walk down the stairs. Grabbing my luggage, I walk out of my house.

  Only when I’m inside the cab do the tears come. One after another, the tears fall on the phone in my hand. I change my ticket back home for today. I’m back at the same airport I just came from.

  I check in for the flight and find the closest bar but not before I text my brother.

  Me: Change of plans coming in tonight.

  Me: Anyway, can I stay with you for the night?

  I grab the glass of wine in front of me and down it when a text comes in from my brother.

  Charlie: Come by the bar. You can stay upstairs.

  I put my phone away at the same time another text comes in from Shondra.

  Shondra: I have to talk to you.

  I roll my eyes when the phone rings, and I see it’s Alan.

  “Decline and block,” I say to the phone when I hear the announcement about my plane boarding. “Merry Christmas,” I mumble to myself as I get on the plane.

  Chapter 2

  Brett

  I smirk at Charlie’s phone and put it down on the bar. Just my luck that he picked up my phone by mistake and will be gone until tomorrow. I grab the clipboard and go back to doing inventory.

  “Leah is coming home,” I say to the empty bar. The last time I saw her was at graduation ten years ago. It was the first time she actually hugged me, and I had to hide my eighteen-year-old boner with my graduation cap.

  Charlie and I have been best friends since we were eight years old, and I’ve been in love with Leah since the first day. I wish I could say the feelings were mutual, but being the little brother’s best friend never appealed to her. It didn’t help that we used to spy on her and her friends, and there may have been one time I picked poison ivy right before her graduation pictures. I laugh, thinking about how her whole face has red welts on it, and one of her eyes was sealed shut.

  The phone rings from the bar, and I walk over to it, seeing my name. “Charlie,” I say, answering it and hearing voices in the background.

  “Brett,” he says, “I’m snowed in.”

  I shake my head. “I told you there was going to be a storm,” I remind him.

  “Well, the good news is she said
yes,” he says of his now fiancée, Shelly.

  “Congrats, buddy,” I say, and he laughs.

  “I’ll never get used to that accent you picked up in Ireland.” I picked up the accent by living in Ireland for the past eight years. I went away for school and just stuck around until my father had a heart attack, when I came back to run the bar. “You think you’ll be okay without me for tonight?”

  “I should be good,” I tell him, not mentioning Leah the whole time. “Stay safe.”

  “We should be back into town on the twenty-fourth,” he says, and I laugh.

  “Take all the time you need. Just be back for the first,” I remind him. “I leave the next day for Ireland.”

  “I know,” he says. “Call me if you need me in before then.” He disconnects, and I look around the bar that I bought as soon as I got back. Actually, Charlie and I bought it. A picture of the two of us on the day we opened as owners sits on the back of the cash register. The whole back wall has pictures of us during the past two years I’ve been back.

  My father let the bar slide in the last years of his life, so the first thing Charlie and I did was clean and restore it. We had to change the floor, but we brought in the white and gray flooring and then brought in new tables. We added a kitchen in the back so we could offer food, which attracts our lunchtime crowd. The lights are brighter during the day, and we dim them at night.

  The front door opens, and Alexis, our waitress, comes in. “Hey,” she says, walking to the back of the bar to hang her jacket and grab her apron. “How was the lunch shift?”

  “Slow,” I tell her. “Many companies have potlucks for the holiday,” I remind her. “Can you watch the bar while I go shower?”

  “Will do,” she says. Heading through the silver door at the back of the bar that leads to the kitchen, I nod at the chef and walk toward the back door. I run up the stairs two at a time to my loft above the bar. Slamming the door behind me, I walk through my open concept loft.

  I get dressed thinking of Leah, running my hands through my black hair as I slip on my jeans and the bar T-shirt. I grab my boots and walk back down to the bar. “You want something to eat?” the chef asks, and I just shake my head.

  “I’m good, Billy,” I say to him and then go back out to the bar. A couple of people are sitting on the stools, and three tables are already taken. I look over at the wall where the Guinness sign is, seeing that it’s almost five. The end of the day crowd is going to start arriving soon.

  I get behind the bar and look over at Shelly. “Can I get two taps and a shot of whiskey?” Walking down the bar, I fill up two cups and then the shot of whiskey.

  One of the guys comes in and sits in his regular spot. “Evening, Cullen.” He uses the nickname I got when I landed in Ireland. It means handsome man, and I got it when I started hitting the gym and went from scrawny to buff. I also ditched my glasses and got contacts and grew a beard. Not even Charlie recognized me when I got home, which we still laugh about to this day.

  “Whatcha have?” I ask the older man.

  “A pint,” he says. I am in the middle of pouring it when the door opens, and she walks in. Her long blond hair is all over the place, and I see her struggling to bring her bag in. Her hand comes up to throw the hair away from her face, and I swear my boner comes back. She looks around the bar, and my hand starts to feel wet. Only then do I see the beer is overflowing.

  “Shit,” I say, grabbing a wet rag and cleaning up as I watch her from my side view. I hand him the Guinness, then look over at her as she sits on the stool. I walk over to her, trying to calm my heart. I wipe my hands, and I don’t know if it’s the beer or the nerves. I smile at her waiting for her to say my name.

  “Hey,” I say, and she turns her head to look at me.

  “Hey, sorry.” She smiles and looks around, then finally looks at me. I’m waiting for her to say something. “I’m looking for Charlie.”

  Chapter 3

  Leah

  “I’m looking for Charlie,” I tell the hot bartender in front of me as he smiles at me. I look at this man in front of me, his blue eyes gazing into mine, making the hair on the back of my neck stick up. His arms bulge when he swings the white rag over his shoulder. The T-shirt fits him like a glove, and his biceps are the perfect size to wrap your hand around and hold onto.

  “Charlie.” He repeats my brother’s name in an Irish accent, and my stomach does a flip. I must be hungry. I look around, trying to spot my brother so as not to blatantly stare at the stranger standing in front of me.

  “Is he in the back?” I point at the back door a woman just came out of, “I’m his sister, Leah.” I lean over the bar with my hand extended, and he just looks at my hand.

  “Cullen.” He says his name and shakes my hand, sending a jolt all the way up my arm. His bicep grows even bigger when he has my hand in his. “He is gone until next week.”

  “What?” I shriek. “How? I just sent him a text.”

  “He was due back today but got snowed in the mountains,” he says, walking away from me as I take in this information. I can always go to my parents’ house, but what would I even say. I take out my phone and look for hotels in the area.

  “I have the kitchen preparing you a shepherd's pie. Would you like a drink?” Cullen asks, coming back to stand in front of me. He leans in on the counter and a piece of his hair falls into his forehead.

  “I’ll take a Guinness,” I tell him, and he walks over and pulls out a cold mug. I try not to check him out, but I can’t help myself. He looks oddly familiar, yet I know that if I had ever met him, I would know. There is no way I would forget a guy this hot.

  “Do you want me to take your bag upstairs?” Cullen asks when he puts the pint down in front of me. “Get it out of the way before someone trips on it.”

  “I can do it,” I tell him, and he just nods. Walking around the bar, he comes to stand in front of me. Nope, I think to myself, definitely would have remembered that package.

  “You aren’t lifting the bag, Leah.” He says my name, and it’s so fucking oddly familiar I just look at him, trying to think of whether I met him the last time I was here. “Shelly, watch the bar.”

  “I can do that,” I tell him, getting up now. “If you won’t let me carry the bag upstairs, I can at least watch the bar for you.”

  He looks at me, his head tilted to the side. “Um, you know that I work for Dicky’s.” I mention the large pub chain. “Well, I used to,” I tell him, walking behind the bar and washing my hands. “I got this. I’ll be fine.”

  I shoo him away and take just an extra second to watch him walk away. I pull my sleeves up and walk over to the waitress.

  “What’s your specialty?” she asks me, and I smile at her, turning around to take in the bar. I fill up my shaker with ice, then add vodka, malibu pineapple, and a splash of cranberry juice. Putting the top on, I flip it around and shake it, walking over to take out a martini glass. I know the shaker to get the top off and strain it into the glass. “It’s called a Leahatini.” I hand it to her, and her eyes go wide when she takes a sip. “Also, I don’t recommend drinking more than five at a time.”

  “Noted,” she says and then gives me an order. I’m in the middle of the second order when Cullen comes back from outside with little white flakes in his hair.

  “Is it snowing?” I look over to see if I can see it from the windows, and sure enough, the snow is coming down, and it looks like it’s coming down hard. “Glad I got here when I did,” I tell him, and he just smiles at me coming back behind the bar.

  “Your food is coming up,” he tells me, and I nod my head and get out of the way. “Was everything okay?”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head, “it was a nightmare. I didn’t know what to do.” He throws his head back and laughs when he puts two hands on the bar.

  “Have we met before?” I ask him, now suddenly feeling like I have.

  “Here is your shepherd's pie,” Shelly says, putting down the hot bowl in front of
me. My mouth waters as I look down at the crispy golden potatoes.

  “Thank you.” I smile at Shelly and grab the fork. “Thank you.” I look up at Cullen and smile at him. “You have no idea the shitty day I just had.”

  “Glad it can help.” He pushes off from the bar, walking away to serve someone who just got in.

  I’m taking the first bite, and I swear it’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my life. “Oh my god,” I say, moaning as I grab another fork full. “this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

  “I brought the recipe back from Ireland,” he tells me, and I want to ask him all the questions now. He walks over to Shelly and then comes back with a scowl on his face.

  “Someone just ordered a Leahtini.” He puts his hands on his hips, and this time, I’m the one who laughs.

  Chapter 4

  Brett

  I watch her laugh, and I have to remind myself that she’s got a man. Something I forgot the minute she walked into the bar. I reminded myself of this when I put her bag down in the spare room. “Care to enlighten me?” I ask her, and she shakes her head and gets off the barstool, coming around the bar winking at Shelly.

  She walks over and washes her hands first, then grabs the towel from my shoulder. “It’s my special recipe. If I tell you,” she says, getting close to me, “I’ll have to kill you.”

  I watch her walk to the tumbler and mix stuff. My eyes admire the way her hands move with the bottles. She used to use Charlie and me as guinea pigs for her drinks. Some were really good, but then some made us gag. She makes the drinks in record time and then pours a bit in a shot glass and brings it over to me. “Cheers.”