by M. Robinson
I hope that wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, it includes hot chocolate.
Merry Christmas, Josh.
Love,
Your Secret Admirer
The writer of the letter was correct. He did get a lot of fan mail—especially right after the news broke about him making a kill shot on the leader of an infamous terrorist group while on a mission to rescue about a dozen orphaned girls they were holding hostage.
This card was different though. First of all, it was a handwritten card—not a typed letter. Second of all, she hadn’t written explicit fantasies of what she’d like him to do to her. She’d just said she loved him…and that she’d met him before…before all the hero stuff. And she’d painted a picture of something he’d never dared to want for himself.
A quiet place where he could rest.
Third of all, her words made his dick hard.
Bobkowski sniffed the air and grinned. “Whoa. What’d she say to get Ice Block to lose his cool?”
Ice Block—that was what they called Josh. Because that’s what he became on special-ops missions. A block of ice doing his job without emotion or fear. Even when he’d drawn on Bobkowski that last time, his face had been a cold, blank slate—at least that was how his bunkmate had described it.
Josh liked the nickname. It suited him, and he did prefer to keep things like feelings and emotions frozen inside of him.
“It said, ‘Tell Bobkowski to go fuck himself,’” Josh answered, his voice as cold as his nickname.
Bobkowski just waggled his eyebrows. “Want me to stand guard outside the showers, keep the others from going in there for a bit? Give you a little quality time to take care of that Christmas Card problem of yours?”
Actually…yes.
But Ice Blocks didn’t concede in a fight—or ask for help.
Josh rose from his cot, shoved past Bobkowski, and headed to the showers. They were empty—lucky for him. Because after re-reading the card a couple of times, he did exactly as The Nose predicted. Stroked himself off under the warm spray as he tried to imagine who had sent it.
Someone with big breasts according to Bobkowski. No one came to mind that he knew. So he ended up masturbating to an idea of her. A shy girl, but she’d whimper underneath him as he massaged her breasts and took her soft mouth nice and slow.
How would she taste? Sweet, like hot chocolate and peppermint. Maybe she’d been drinking a cup of cocoa while writing that letter. And sucking on a stick of peppermint. She’d need something in her mouth since he wasn’t there to—
Cum rocketed down his shaft and jetted out of his cock, splashing against the tile wall. Ending the fantasy before he was ready.
It was a card. A weird card sent by some silly secret admirer. But his secret admirer had melted him with just a few words. He’d come as hard as if he’d been looking at a girlie magazine.
What’s wrong with me?
That question got frozen underneath a block of ice along with all the other ones he’d suppressed over the years.
But the Christmas card….
That he kept.
Chapter Two
The Last Christmas
About a year later, Josh got called down to the UVA Law School Administrative Office to pick up a personal letter that had apparently been sent there for him. And his heart sped up when the secretary’s assistant held up a red card envelope.
It had the same neat cursive on the front as the one he’d gotten from his secret admirer.
“Students aren’t supposed to receive mail here,” the assistant said with a flirtatious laugh. “But don’t worry, I won’t report you.”
“I appreciate that, Ma’am,” Josh answered, reaching out for the envelope.
“Ma’am, oh my God.” She playfully pulled the letter just out of his reach. “I’m only twenty-two.”
Just a few years younger than him and pretty enough, he supposed. Brunette. Blue eyes.
But she was working in the office—most likely as part of a work-study program. That meant that she didn’t hail from a family that could pay for her schooling. Her parents most likely had little money and zero influence. Therefore she wouldn’t be a suitable candidate for marriage.
And as his father had pointed out, if a woman wasn’t suitable for marriage, she wasn’t suitable for dating.
“Give me the letter,” he commanded, no longer bothering with the southern gentleman act.
The young woman jerked her head back, and handed him the letter. “No wonder people call you the Ice Block.”
Yes, that Ice Block nickname had followed him to UVA Law. But he felt the opposite of his nickname as he snatched the card out of her hand without apology. He barely made it out of the building before ripping it open, and his body burned as he read what she’d written.
Dearest Josh,
I’m still in love with you, so I’m writing you another card.
I know what me sending you a card at school looks like. But don’t worry, I don’t remotely pose a threat. If anything, you should feel safer. I have no idea where you live. Lol!
I hope you’re enjoying law school and settling back into civilian life. I know—at least I’ve read that it can be hard to adjust when you come back. If I ever get up the guts to talk to you, you’re welcome to make use of that cabin in the woods I told you about last year.
Well, that’s enough of me being creepy for now. I hope I get a life by next Christmas and stop bothering you. Lol!
I also hope your holidays include hot chocolate.
Love,
Your Secret Admirer
She’d written “Lol!” twice with the claim that she was bothering him. But it had been just the opposite. He hadn’t wanted to stop reading, and the message had ended before he was ready.
Who are you?
He yelled that question inside his head as he re-read the card. Then he flipped the envelope over, seeking out clues.
No return address—just like last time, but there was a postal code….for Greenlee County, Virginia. The same town he’d grown up in—the one named after his dead mother’s family, where their family mansion still sat.
When he returned to his apartment in Charlottesville, he took out the other Christmas Card and confirmed that envelope had the same postal code.
So it had to be someone he’d met before he went off to the Naval Academy. But who?
That question continued to haunt him. That year and the next when another Christmas Card arrived on campus with claims of love, season greetings, apologies for being creepy, and a wish for his holidays to include hot chocolate.
The card for the next Christmas read a bit more somber. His secret admirer had heard about Sawyer’s helicopter crash, and her thoughts were with Josh and his family—she hoped they’d all be able to drink hot chocolate together for the holidays.
That wasn’t the last time she’d reference his personal life. The following year, the cards started arriving at the D.C. office where he’d signed on as a junior associate after law school.
And a few years later, the cards arrived at his new workspace in Richmond.
“I hope you’re liking your new offices,” she said at the top of her annual card. “I hope it’s quieter for you than D.C.”
Those words shook Josh. He’d told his dad and everyone else that his earlier than planned decision to hang his own shingle stemmed from a desire to strike out on his own. But the truth was, working in D.C. proper had been a nightmare.
She’d been the only one who’d guessed the real reason for his move to a much quieter suburb.
And as for the settling down, well, girlfriends appeared in his life easy enough. But they always broke up with him after too much time passed without even a hint of a ring.
They accused him of being withdrawn and cold. Maybe that wouldn’t have been so bad. A few girlfriends admitted they could have lived with that—just not without a ring and a Mrs. title to make up for their misery.
He’d let them go without pr
otest. He was a good soldier and planned to carry out his father’s orders to marry and produce heirs. But he had to admit he never looked as forward to seeing those girlfriends as he did to receiving just one of her letters.
Over the next few years, she congratulated him on his new endeavors and expressed her surprise when Sawyer’s political career-killing soap opera of a story made the local papers. But like many people, she was happy for Sawyer, who’d gone against their father’s wishes and married for love.
The following year, when Josh announced that he’d be running for his father’s old seat instead of Sawyer, she offered measured congratulations: I hope you’ll gain some happiness when you’re elected.
When—not if. She was more confident than he’d been about his political prospects and turned out to be right. The Grant name was enough to get him elected to his father’s old seat, if not his personality.
His old nickname came back with a vengeance. “Representative Ice Block” featured in many an article about his first couple of terms in office—and a few gossip items, too. Especially when he found himself on the cusp of 40, still single before announcing a rumored run for Senate.
“What exactly is the hold up here?” his father demanded over Thanksgiving dinner with Josh, Sawyer and his family, and their former housekeeper turned stepmother, Grace.
“When are you going to pick a woman already and settle down?” the Admiral demanded.
When?
That question created a cavernous ache inside his walls of ice.
His father acted as if he’d been tomcatting around all this time. But in truth, he’d been holding out. Holding out for her….
“Maybe I just want to be happy. Like you and Sawyer.”
He didn’t realize he’d muttered those words out loud until his father demanded, “What did you say?”
Everyone gaped at him—his father and Grace, Sawyer and his wife. Hell, even the kids were staring at him like he’d gone crazy for back-talking The Admiral.
“Nothing,” he decided to reply.
“He said he wants to be happy like you and dad, Grandpa!” Eve, Sawyer’s precocious daughter, chirped.
“Are you saying that not one of the women you’ve dated—women from good families—made you happy?” The Admiral asked with a consternated frown. “Tell me, son, is this about those strange Christmas cards Grace found in your nightstand from a supposed secret admirer?”
Josh stilled. Then cut his eyes at Grace, who’d claimed she was bored and begged him to let her pick up his place last month, even though he preferred to do his own housekeeping.
Apparently, she’d used the opportunity to do some snooping for his father.
Josh didn’t trust easily after what he’d seen in both that desert and civilian life. So Grace’s betrayal hit hard.
“Ooh! Uncle Josh got secret ’mirerer!” Eve sing-songed—then she had to ask her brother, Trevor, “What’s a secret ’mirerer?”
“A secret admirer is when someone you don’t know likes you,” Trevor answered in a tone that managed to be teacherly and gossipy at the same time.
Then they both oohed together.
Grace looked away guiltily as Sawyer shushed his children.
His father just tightened his jaw and demanded, “Care to explain this to me, Joshua Greenlee Grant?”
How could he answer that question without sounding crazy?
He couldn’t tell his family that he’d never wanted any of the women he’d dated in real life as much as he wanted the secret one who sent him a card every Christmas?
So, he sunk into silence as his father lectured him about duty and legacy. Then he returned to his office in D.C. for the first two weeks of December and resumed his life of being a good soldier—at least, career-wise.
His father was right. He needed to settle down before he hit his forties. Yet, not two minutes after walking into his administrative suite at his assigned House Office Building, he told his assistant, “If a Christmas Card with no return address shows up—”
“I know, I know, bring it to you straight away,” Vickie answered before he could finish. “Same as every year I’ve been working for you.”
The card came just a couple of days before the House recessed for the holidays.
And something inside his chest loosened when Vickie set it on his desk. Every other day of the year was mud he’d had to trudge through to reach this moment, he realized as he went outside to read his secret admirer’s words.
The cold December wind bit into his skin, but a warm, tender feeling settled over him as he pulled her card out of the envelope.
Dearest Josh,
Twelve years ago, I told you that I was in love with you. And twelve years later, I’m afraid that’s still true.
I’ve been in love with you through deployments and grad school and career pivots, and the thing is…. it’s time for me to stop. So this will be my last Christmas Card.
Josh blinked. What? No….no!
What did she mean it was time for her to stop?
As if in answer to his question, the card continued with….
There are things I should do. Things I need to do. I must let go of this one-sided love and pursue the kind of relationship that happens in real life and leads to marriage and children.
I’m in my thirties now. If I want those things, I have to stop dreaming and start real-lifeing.
So good news! This will be my last creepy Christmas card. Next year, I’ll start doing normal things like dating, and maybe I’ll find a long-term partner I don’t compare to you.
I hope you find love too. And, of course, a cup of hot chocolate. That always makes the holidays better.
Warm wishes,
Me
No. No…
He’d never met her, but the idea of her moving on to a new guy burned inside of his ice. He couldn’t bear the thought of someone else touching her the way he’d wanted to touch her—for twelve years. Twelve goddamn years!
Josh read and re-read the last Christmas card just like he had the first one.
But nothing changed. She’d dumped him. She’d dumped him without ever telling him who the hell she was…. or realizing that he wanted those things too.
With her.
Sight unseen—as crazy as that was.
He’d been let go by so many women over the past twelve years and had watched them walk away without a care. But this…
“Congressman Grant! What happened to your hand?” Vickie screeched when he returned to their office suite with a handkerchief wrapped around his knuckles.
“Cancel the rest of my appointments for the day,” he bit out before leaving without a word of explanation to his staff.
There was no explaining what had made him punch the House building’s stone wall—or the misery that sent him home to nurse his wounds with whiskey.
But, little did Josh know, he’d have reason to rejoice in less than twelve months from this terrible day.
That year he lost his secret admirer. However, the very next year, he would meet her in real life.
And she’d be nothing short of perfect for him.
Chapter Three
12 Days Before This Christmas
Neisha
It looks like Shelby Summers from Selling DC has a new love in her life. After she dumped her Waltzing with the Stars boyfriend, Gil Contreras, she’s reportedly rebounded with Representative Josh “Ice Block” Grant, a former Navy SEAL and one of the most eligible—and cutest congressmen in DC.
The caption underneath a picture of Josh and Shelby enjoying an outdoor lunch at Le Diplomate—one of DC’s most hip restaurants made me almost lose my own lunch.
Twelve years. It had taken me twelve years to stop crushing on Josh and give up writing him those stupid, creepy stalker Christmas cards.
And what had he done the very next year? Hooked up with my worst enemy.
* * *
Did you really think he liked you?
I could still hear S
helby’s spiteful voice from that year I decided to try living with my birth mother and half-sisters in Greenlee County.
That afternoon, I’d shown up after football practice so excited for my very first teenage hangout—what my much less sheltered half-sister, Thel, would’ve termed a makeout session.
Dante, one of the football gods from Greenlee’s state championship high school team, had left a note in my locker, claiming to have been crushing on me ever since I sat down beside him in the one Chemistry class we shared.
Like, the clueless naïf I was back then, I’d believed the note. Not only that, I hunted down Thel and begged her to exchange outfits with me.
My adoptive mom—Thel’s and my technical aunt—made way more money than our birth mother did. But my earth-conscious mom refused to buy me anything that wasn’t sustainably made with a close-to-zero carbon footprint. And few eco-friendly clothing companies offered anything that could remotely be considered sexy.
But Thel had a job at the mall, and she got to wear whatever she wanted—thanks to our birth mother’s shocking neglect. By her senior year, my half-sister had gained a reputation for wearing things that often got her sent home to change.
Thel agreed to the outfit exchange without blinking.
“It’s about time Dante got with somebody who looked like one of us,” she said with a suck of her teeth. “If he comes to prom with one more blond….”
Thel made a retching sound to show what she thought of that prospect. But she complimented me after our outfit swap was done.
“Look at you, sis! You’re filling out that top way better than I ever could,” she said with a husky laugh, casting my large chest a jealous look.
Even back in high school, she’d sounded like a woman, sexy and grown.
The truth was I didn’t always feel comfortable having such a large chest paired with an otherwise diminutive frame. Back in my father’s homeland, my aunt always complained about how I made all the traditional clothing look vulgar.
