Merry & Bright
for TOYS FOR TOTS
Merry & Bright features eight sweet to hot Contemporary Romances novels
from award-winning and bestselling authors for the benefit of
TOYS FOR TOTS
Title: Merry & Bright
Genre: Contemporary Holiday Romance Charity Anthology
Charity: TOY FOR TOTS – 100% of the
proceeds will be donated to TOYS FOR TOTS
Release Date: November 25, 2016
Authors: Tammy Falkner, Sarra Cannon, Marquita Valentine, Sawyer Bennett,
Ava Stone, Jane Charles, Zoe Dawson, Regina Cole
Available
from 11/25/16 thru 1/1/17 ONLY!
CHRISTMAS WITH THE REEDS by Tammy Falkner
A SEASON FOR HOPE by Sarra Cannon
ALL FOR YOU by Marquita Valentine
IF I RETURN by Sawyer Bennett
STAY WITH ME by Ava Stone
BRAVE by Zoe DAwson
LIGHT UP THE TREE (abridged) by Regina Cole
&
STILL RATTLED by Jane Charles
READ THE FIRST CHAPTER OF
STILL RATTLED BELOW
Kelsey
Alex
“Douche” Dosek isn’t really a douche, or at least not anymore, and I should
probably stop thinking about him that way. I get why he resented me. He didn’t
have the whole story, and after his mother shit on him the way she did, of
course he’d think I was just as heartless because I had abandoned my baby.
But,
now he gets it. If he didn’t, Alex wouldn’t have given me the most perfect
tattoo.
It’s
exactly what I needed, from the little foot that I thought I wanted, to the
little handprint over my heart that I hadn’t even considered. The manila
envelope still holds those precious items: her birth certificate, sheet music
from Brahms’ Lullaby and the pink rattle I snatched from the bassinet. I’ve
always had these with me, but now that everything, with the exception of the
rattle and the only picture I have of Brandon, is permanently on my midriff,
just below my boobs, I’m not as worried about losing the documents. I’ll still
keep them close though, in the pink box on the top shelf of my closet with the
letters I’ve written to Brandy. But nobody can take the art from my body.
Brandy and Brandon will be with me always.
Shit!
My eyes are tearing up again and everything in front of me is starting to blur.
After sobbing inside of Reed’s, you’d think I’d be done by now.
“Coffee?”
Alex pulls his gloves on as he steps outside in to the cold.
“Coffee!”
I blink and quickly wipe away a few stray tears. I’m drained and really just
want a nap, but it’s kind of nice spending time with someone I don’t have to
guard myself around. Not so much protecting my feelings and heart and that type
of stuff, but not having to watch what I say, or slip about Baxter, or mention
I was once pregnant and lived on the streets. Those things are what people
judge you by. Alex already knows the ugly. Far more ugly about my past than
anyone else, with the exception of people at Baxter, like Mrs. Robak and a
handful of therapists.
“There’s
a diner a few blocks down,” he says and we head in that direction, keeping our
heads down against the cold November wind. My hands are shoved in my coat
pocket because I lost my gloves on campus two days ago. At least I have a warm,
though not exactly fashionable, scarf around my neck, and I duck my chin
inside.
I
can’t believe that Alex did my tattoo. He’s lucky I didn’t walk right out when
I found what artist had been assigned to me. Or, that’s what I thought then.
I’m the lucky one. I don’t think anyone else could have done what he did. They
would have given me the foot I asked for and left it at that.
Alex
stops and I look up and into the long windows. I like diners, but they usually
aren’t this busy, with people sitting at every table and the counter. How good
could their hamburgers, fries and milkshakes be? “They must have good food,” I
mumble as we step inside. The heat from the bodies, kitchen and furnace engulfs
me. I’ll be sweating in my coat if I don’t get it off me soon.
“How
long?” Alex asks.
The
waitress in her mid-fifties with mousey brown hair streaked with silver gives
him a disbelieving look. “It’s Thanksgiving. I’ve got about fifteen people ahead
of you.” Then I notice the sign. Thanksgiving
Special. Turkey and the fixings $3.99. I glance around again. I’d bet what remains of my savings that ninety
percent of the people enjoying their meal are homeless or barely have two
nickels to rub together. I so don’t want to take a table, or even a seat at the
counter from someone who needs a cheap meal far more than me. And, $3.99 is way
cheap for a meal in New York. A young couple, who look like they haven’t slept
in days are in a back booth with two small children. Worn and dirty backpacks
are on the floor beside them.
All
of the plates in the diner are filled with turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy,
stuffing, green beans and a roll. The works. There are also pumpkin pies lined
up on the counter, waiting to be served for dessert. My mouth waters. I’ve
practically existed on ramen to save money for the tat, make rent and pay for
luxuries like internet. I wouldn’t even be paying for that if I didn’t need it
for research and emails with professors.
“We
see Santa after this?” the little girl asked with excitement. She couldn’t be
older than four or five.
The
parents share a look and my heart breaks in that instant from the pain in the
mother’s eyes. I’ve seen many families like them. They can barely feed their
kids, let alone give them a magical Christmas, and every kid deserves a visit
from Santa.
No,
I don’t have money to spare, but I did save a lot by risking my tattoo on
someone auditioning and not insisting on having a Reed do my tat. Pulling my
wallet out of my bag I look at the bills, then take a deep breath and take out
fifty dollars, leaving me with $200 from what I’d saved up, then I fish out an
envelope and shove the money inside.
“You
keep envelopes in your bag?” Alex asks.
“I
write a lot of letters.” He doesn’t need to know who those letters are written
to, or why.
On
the inside flap I write “For Santa shopping”.
When
the waitress comes by, I ask her to give it to the family in the back booth.
Alex
pulls me back outside.
“What’s
wrong?”
“I
forgot that it’s Thanksgiving.”
Actually,
I had to. Today was about my daughter turning six and getting a tattoo. “If you
have someplace to be, no big deal. We can catch up later.”
He
shoves his hands in his front pockets and blows out a breath. It’s white in the
cold air. “What are you doing for dinner?”
I
shrug. Maybe I’ll splurge and open a can of tuna.
Turning,
I glance back at the window and to the booth where the family is sitting. I
want to make sure they get the envelope and that the waitress doesn’t pocket
it. It’s not that I don’t trust the waitress specifically. I just don’t trust a
lot of people to do the right thing.
The
mother is holding it, a hand is over her mouth and then she wipes a tear before
giving it to her husband. He opens it and a small smile forms before he covers
his wife’s hand with his own.
I
did need that money, but they need it a hell of a lot more and for once, I’m
glad I acted spontaneously.
“Roommates
got stuff planned?”
I
blink up at Alex.
“Roommates?
Plans?” His blue eyes bore into mine as if saying Earth to Kelsey.
“No,
they went home.” Each invited me along but I had the excuse of the job
interview tomorrow. They thought it odd that I’d interview on a day when
schools are closed, but I explained that Baxter was working with my schedule.
Nobody else needs to know that Baxter doesn’t celebrate holidays. Any holiday,
and tomorrow is just another Friday for them.
My
roommates don’t know about the tat either, and probably never will. They don’t
even know all of my past. Just that I’m an orphan and went to an art academy.
It’s good enough for them, and thankfully, they don’t pry. Besides, I’d been to
their homes and never felt comfortable. Families gathered around the table,
being nice to each other because it’s a holiday, trying desperately to make me
feel welcome, like one of them. Feigning interest in my school and future
plans. It’s like being dropped into a foreign country where you don’t know the
language and you’re without a translator. The job interview was my perfect out.
Alex
grins and grabs my hand. “Come home with me.”
I
pull back. “That’s okay. I’ve got stuff to do.”
“You
can’t be alone on Thanksgiving, Kelsey.”
“I
don’t exactly want to be with strangers, Alex.”
His
grin grows large. “But, they aren’t. Not really.”
I
narrow my eyes on him. Was he just trying to get me back to his place? He’s got
to know that we may have started repairing a once burned bridge, but I sure as
hell am not starting anything or getting involved with anyone at this point in
my life.
“Come
on.” He pulls me toward the subway. “Great meal, great guys. You won’t be
sorry.”
I
anchor my feet so he can’t pull me any further. “Alex, we haven’t seen each
other in almost five years, and we were never friends.”
His
head drops, and he turns around, facing me. “Yeah, I know.”
“Just
go on home. I’ll go home, and maybe we’ll get coffee some other time.” I pull
on my hand, but he’s not letting go. Normally this would send off alarms in my
head and my gut, but it’s not.
His
blue eyes study mine. “Come with me Kelsey.”
“Why?”
What can this matter to him?
“I
fucked up. I should have gotten to know you, and because I was a stupid ass
with a chip on my shoulder, I didn’t.”
“It’s
no big deal.” Though it was. At least back then, and the reason I hated him.
But it’s not so much anymore. Not after today.
“It
is to me.” He grabs my other hand so that he’s now holding both, like he
doesn’t want me to get away or something. “Come back to my place, enjoy an
awesome Thanksgiving meal, and we’ll talk.”
His
phone dings and he lets go of one hand to pull it from his jeans pocket. After
reading the screen, he grins at me and turns the phone so I can see. “See what
awaits.”
There’s
a photo of a turkey, or what I think is a turkey, mostly wrapped in foil.
Beside it on the counter are bowls and all kinds of pots on the stove in the
background. Thirty minutes and counting.
Browning, carving then eating, the text read.
Damn.
He’s offering turkey and all the fixings. My stomach grumbles. I don’t even
have turkey-flavored ramen. Actually, I’m not sure if they even have that
flavor, but if they did, I don’t have it. I know exactly what’s in my allotted
cupboard back at the apartment. A can of coffee, half a loaf of bread, 3 cans
of spaghetti, 2 cans of tuna and two packages of chicken-flavored ramen.
Then
again, I did save money by letting Alex do my tat instead of insisting and
waiting for one of the Reed Brothers to be available, but that didn’t mean I
needed to go out and spend it. Besides, I just handed over fifty to a family in
need. “I’ll just go home. Enjoy your meal.”
Alex
types something into his phone and then shoves it in his pocket. “Nope. You’re
coming with me.” This time he hooks his arm with mine and pulls me to the
stairs leading down to the subway.
I
try and jerk it away, but he has a tight grip. Not that he’s hurting me or
anything. Just being pushy. Or make that pulley since he is practically
dragging me along behind him.
“I
saw that look in your eye when you saw that turkey. You want it, even if you
don’t want to admit it.”
Of
course I want it. I’d love to sit down to a real meal for a change, but that doesn’t
mean I should. Alex is still practically a stranger. What if he’s all weird and
shit like that? He doesn’t strike me as dangerous, though. I’m not getting that
vibe that usually warns me when someone’s a creep, but we don’t know each
other. Not really.
He
stops at the turnstile and gets out his metro card and scans it. “You won’t be
sorry.”
I
pull my card from my pocket and scan it, before following Alex down another
flight of stairs to the platform. “I’m already sorry.”
We
get there just as the train pulls in.
“Perfect
timing.”
We
wait for the passengers to exit before getting on. There are no empty seats,
and barely enough room to stand. I didn’t think the subway would be this busy
on a holiday. “Where do you live?”
“Brooklyn.”
Alex answers as he grabs the pole for balance.
I
do the same. I’ve lost my balance before, and the last thing I want to do is
end up on some stranger’s lap.
“We’re
renting a townhouse.”
“How
many live there?”
“Six.”
He shrugs and I gape at him. I’ve been in a number of brownstones and
townhouses that were once gorgeous but were now broken up into apartments. One
on top of the other, similar to the four bedroom I share with my roommates.
Some were roomy and some, not so much. But six guys in one apartment? “That has
to be crowded as hell.”
He
frowns and then his blue eyes lighten just before he laughs. “We don’t rent an
apartment, we rent the entire townhouse.”
Holy
crap. I didn’t know tattooing paid so well. Those places cost a fortune.
He’s
shaking his head. “It’s not what you think. It was a family home but got to be
too much for the older couple who owns it. They moved to a smaller apartment. He wanted to cut it up for apartments
and even started to in the attic. He planned an apartment for each floor like a
lot of owners have done. Make it into an income property.”
I
hate how so many early twentieth century buildings are cut up like the one I
live in. Such beautiful architecture destroyed for the purpose of making as
much money as possible.
“The
wife is completely against the idea and wants the place to keep its original
charm. The rent was already cheap because of the condition of the place, but we
talked the couple down because two of my roommates also work construction. In
exchange for cheap rent, we’ve fixed the roof, plumbing and electrical, but there’s
still a ton of work to do. We got the important stuff done, the rest is mostly
cosmetic.”
Sounds
like a great deal. If I knew how to operate a power tool, I’d try to find
something like that. But, since I can’t even hammer in a nail, I’m stuck in an expensive
shoebox close to campus.
“Each
month we give him the receipts and an estimate on what a contractor would have
charged, and he adjusts the rent. We don’t know what we are paying from one
month to the next, but it’s the best deal in town, and he’s happy to have
people living there who aren’t just keeping the place up, but making it better.
It’s cheaper for him in the long run to have it done this way instead of hiring
a firm to gut the place.”
“So,
who do you live with? You said they weren’t strangers, but we don’t exactly
have the same circle of friends.”
Alex
chuckles and shakes his head. “You’ll see.”
Alex
I
didn’t even think when I asked Kelsey back to the house. The guys will be
surprised, but I hope they aren’t pissed. Not that they should be. It’s not
like I just grabbed a stranger off the street and brought her home to be fed.
Not that they should have a problem if I did.
Okay,
maybe a total stranger in our home would be a bad idea.
Kelsey
narrows her eyes on me. “I don’t like surprises. And I’ve already had enough
today.”
The
seeing me and almost bolting from Reed’s before getting her tattoo, or the tat
that wasn’t just a foot? I’m not sure I want to know. She loved the tat, but
she didn’t love seeing me, at least not at first.
“Trust
me. It’s a good one. You’ll fit right in.”
Kelsey
blows out a sigh. “Listen, I don’t do family meals well. Is somebody’s family
going to be there?”
I
seal my lips and make a sign like I’m throwing away the key.
“If
I’m uncomfortable, I’m leaving, okay. No making me stay.”
Kelsey
has her defenses up, like she’s afraid. I get it. I’m not exactly open to
strangers either, but she’ll be happy once she sees who’s there. At least, I
assume she will be. “Only long enough to fix you a plate so you can take it
home.” Maybe she’ll relax knowing she can walk out the door as soon as she
walks in, if that is what she wants, though I doubt it will happen that way.
She
gave me a small smile. “Is there going to be pie?”
“Chocolate,
pumpkin and cherry.”
Her
eyes practically rolled back in her head as she groans. “I can’t remember the
last time I had pie.”
I’m
surprised that particular dessert didn’t bring all kinds of unpleasant
memories. She was delivering a piece of pie to Brandon when he was killed.
The
smile slips. “I couldn’t eat pie for two years after Brandon died.”
Could
she fucking read my mind?
“Then
I realized, if I hadn’t been taking him a piece, I wouldn’t have been able to
say goodbye and tell him that I loved him. I would have just gone home and
waited for him to get off work.” Her dark eyes meet mine. “So, pie is good.”
“And,
these will be delicious.”
The
train slows and I glance out to see where we are. I haven’t been paying close
attention to the stops, but we’re getting close.
Close?
Hell, this is my stop. If I hadn’t decided to look this time, we would have
gone right past and that would have been a pain in the ass to get off at the
next stop, and then go around and grab the train going in the opposite
direction.
“Here
we are.”
She
takes a deep breath and steps out onto the platform. “Are you sure they won’t
mind?”
“I
promise,” grabbing her hand, I head for the stairs to exit the subway.
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