Bad Romeo Christmas Page 4

  "Mom! Dad! We're here!" I pull my key out of the front door and close it behind me as Christmas carols echo down the hallway. Knowing mom, I'm willing to bet she's had her extensive Christmas playlist on repeat for weeks now. Whenever Dad complains, she says, "Charles, the song says to 'jingle all the way', so get on board. No one likes a half-assed jingler."

  No matter how many times she says it, Dad tries not to laugh but always fails. I can't blame him. It still makes me laugh, too. Mom has a way of cracking me up that no one else can match. Well, except for Cassie.

  Wait a minute...

  Panic seizes me as I wonder if I fell in love with a woman just like my mom. I quickly come to the conclusion that based on culinary skill alone, they couldn't be more different.

  Phew. Oedipus complex averted.

  As Cassie and I remove our coats, Mom calls out to come see her in the kitchen. That's followed by the sound of my parents' hyperactive Pomeranian, Tribble, yapping excitedly. She goes berserk whenever she hears my voice, and within seconds the tiny fluff ball appears, scampering down the hall in a blur of tan fur and excited black eyes. I take the precaution of ushering Cassie behind me. The little dog has gotten better at tolerating the woman she believes has replaced her in my affections, but Tribble can still be a bitch when the mood takes her.

  "Hey, baby," I say, and scoop her up with one hand. "How've you been, Trib? Did you miss me?"

  Tribble's whole body shakes as she tries to lick my face. "Come on. Stop it. I can't kiss you in front of Cassie. You know how she gets. She'll fly into a jealous rage."

  Cassie comes to my side and squeezes my bicep. "Damn straight. And if you think I'm too cool to throw down with a microscopic dog, welcome to being wrong forever. So watch it, Tribble, or it's you and me with pistols at dawn."

  Tribble immediately closes her mouth and glares at Cassie, who narrows her eyes and glares back. If I wasn't worried about being slapped or nipped, I'd laugh.

  "Girls, please," I say. "You're both pretty. Can't you accept there's enough Ethan to go around?"

  Cassie rolls her eyes and picks up the insulated bag that contains our food. Well, my food, plus her green bean abomination.

  "One day, Holt," Cassie says, as she fixes me with a sultry expression. "I'm going to make you choose between me and that little dog, and on that day, we'll see who you really love the most." She leans in and whispers, "Keep in mind that if you don't choose me, that lacy pink thing you bought yesterday will never see the light of day. No pressure."

  I almost groan when she swings her hips and walks through the living room to the kitchen. Dammit, I have plans for that ass and the lacy pink thing. Dirty, horny, pleasuring-my-woman-like-it's-my-job plans.

  I glance at Tribble. "Sorry, sweetheart. She's bribing me with her hotness. You can't compete with that. But we can still be friends, right?"

  She blinks at me before lunging forward and swiping her candy-pink tongue across my cheek.

  "I'm going to take that as a yes, but cool it on the tongue kisses, okay? You need a mint, big time."

  I put her down and head into the living room, trying not to trip over her as she winds around my feet.

  The back of Dad's head peeks over the top of his chair as he watches television, and I get a flash of my old irritation that he didn't bother coming to say hello when we arrived. But as I get closer, I notice he's wearing a giant set of headphones, and when I touch him on the shoulder, he jumps a little before standing and giving me a smile.

  "Son! Sorry, didn't hear you arrive." He pulls off the headphones and gestures to them. "Bought myself an early Christmas present. These babies are the only things that will block out your mother's incessant Christmas carols. They also have Bluetooth, so I can watch television in peace."

  I glance at the TV screen, and after a moment realize that the tall actor dressed in scrubs and a white coat is me.

  "Dad, really? This episode again?" A couple of months ago I was a guest star on a popular medical drama. I played a brain surgeon. Dad just about passed out with happiness. If he couldn't have the satisfaction of his son being an actual doctor, then he was sure as hell going to revel in him being a fake one.

  "It's just a great episode," he says with a shrug. "You rattle off that medical jargon like a pro, son. I still say you would have made one hell of a doctor."

  "Yeah, apart from all that pesky throwing up at the sight of blood."

  "Minor obstacle." He smiles and claps me on the shoulder. "Would you like a drink?"

  "Is it likely a leomorphic xanthroastrocytoma will occur in the upper hemispherical leptomeninges of the brain?" My dad blinks at me. "The answer is 'yes', Dad. Obviously."

  He smiles. "See? I totally bought you knowing that stuff."

  As he heads over to the bar to pour us whiskey, I think about how far our relationship has come in recent years. Dad no longer criticizes me about my chosen profession, and I don't lash out like a defensive asshole every time he speaks to me. Sounds simple, but it took us a long time to get here, all adult and self-aware.

  I think the turning point came when I had my motorbike accident in France a few years ago. The thought of losing his only son made Dad reassess how he treated me, and in turn I got therapy for all the crap that made me behave like an idiot. Now, we're closer than we've ever been, and I wish I hadn't wasted so much time pushing him away.

  He hands me a generous tumbler of whiskey on the rocks and clinks my glass with his. "Merry Christmas, son."

  "Merry Christmas, Dad."

  As I'm swallowing my first mouthful, I hear the front door open.

  "Hey, guys!" my sister calls down the hallway. "We're here."

  I put my glass on the coffee table, and head to where Elissa and her best friend, Joshua Kane, are stamping slush off their shoes and shaking snowflakes out of their hair.

  "It's really starting to come down out there," Elissa says with a smile. "Merry Christmas, big brother." She stands on her toes to hug me.

  "Merry Christmas, Lissa." When I let her go, I turn and shake Josh's hand. "Hey, Josh. Mamma and Poppa Kane have fled Manhattan as usual?"

  He squeezes my hand before taking off his glasses and wiping them dry on his t-shirt. "Yep. They're like clockwork. As soon as the first snow falls, my parents make the great Jewish pilgrimage to warmer climates. They've gone to Australia this year. I made sure they bumped up the value of their insurance policies before they left, of course, because we all know everything in Australia can kill you. Who knows? I may be an orphan before the new year."

  "But a rich orphan?"

  "Exactly."

  I smile and shake my head. Josh has been Elissa's best friend since she was fifteen, so having him at our place for Christmas is as expected as Mom's Christmas carol binge. I always wondered why he and Elissa never hooked up, considering they seem to spend every waking moment together and clearly love each other. But Elissa always brushes me off when I pressure her about it. She tells me that despite Josh being an attractive, heterosexual man, she doesn't feel that way about him.

  Of course she doesn't. God forbid my sister would actually choose to go out with a nice guy for once instead of the constant string of douches she seems to attract. I've only met a few of the guys she's dated over the past few years, but I've universally wanted to punch each one in the head. My sister is gorgeous, ambitious, and intelligent. Why the hell she doesn't have some guy worshipping at her feet, I'll never know.

  "Lissa!" Cassie appears beside me and envelops my sister in a giant hug. "How can I miss you so much when I see you at work every day?"

  Elissa squeezes her back. "Well, me bossing you around at the theater is hardly quality time together. Plus, my stupid brother always keeps you to himself. Selfish."

  I roll my eyes. "As if I have a choice. Cassie and I are onstage together for nearly the entire performance. There's no way for me to not monopolize her."

  Elissa steps back from Cassie and turns to me. "And what about after the show? When you ab
duct her into your dressing room and proceed to make noises that my entire crew complains they can never unhear? What about then?"

  I clear my throat, pick up her bag of food, and peek inside. "Your famous mac and cheese? Cool."

  Josh laughs as I pull the casserole dish out of the bag and sniff it. "Nice evasive maneuvers, man. Very smooth."

  I flip him the bird before winding my arm around Cassie, and we all head into the living room just as Mom bustles out of the kitchen. She proceeds to hug and kiss all of us within an inch of our lives, even Josh. She's still wearing her apron and has flour smeared on her face and arms, but it's clear she's never as happy as when she's cooking for her family.

  "Dinner will be ready soon," she says before brushing some stray hair off her forehead. "So everyone relax, grab a drink, sing some carols, and I'll call you when it's done."

  "Do you need some help, Mom?" I ask.

  She kisses my cheek. "You can come grab the eggnog. And don't you dare add more alcohol to it like you did last year. I had a headache for days."

  "Killjoy."

  I'm about to follow her into the kitchen when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and take a quick look at the message.

 

  I quickly look around to check on Cassie's position. She laughing with Elissa, which is good. I hate how guilty I feel about not telling her about this, but I know it would only lead to trouble.

  I'm about to put my phone back into my pocket when it buzzes again.

 

  I type in a quick reply and when I turn around, I notice Cassie staring.

  Shit.

  I can't let her know what's going on. She's touchy enough about Vanessa as it is. I paint on a smile and act casual.

  Cassie tilts her head and studies me. "Everything okay?"

  "Yeah, Marco just texted to wish us both a merry Christmas. I told him we send our love and we'd see him on New Year's Eve as usual."

  "Huh. Okay." She moves into me and subtly runs her hand over my ass cheek. "Have I told you tonight how sexy you are? Because you are. Very ... sexy." She leans in and whispers in my ear. "We could go up to your room and cuddle. And by 'cuddle' I mean make out aggressively until one or both of us comes."

  I glance over at my dad, chatting with Josh. I have no issue getting down and dirty with Cassie in any location, even my childhood home, but being aroused in full view of my family would be weird. Cassie has other ideas though and seems determined to rattle my resolve. I jump a little when she grazes her hand across my crotch. No one else can see it, but still.

  "Hey, there," I whisper. "My father and sister are right over there, in case you'd forgotten."

  "I know. But you're just too damn attractive."

  I grab her hands and bring them up to my chest. "Let's just leave these here for a while, okay? Where I can see them."

  Lately, Cassie has been insatiable. I'm not sure if it's nervousness about tonight, or the wedding, or the whole Vanessa thing, but there's something making her act out, and for once it's not me. I mean, my woman isn't backward about demanding sex at the best of times, but now she seems to be functioning on an entirely different level.

  I've asked her time and again if she's okay, and she swears she is. Even though I have the urge to press her, I know that would only lead to resentment on her behalf. This is how Cassie works. She'll stew in her thoughts for a while before inviting me into the issue. It just takes patience on my behalf. If that means I have to endure her jumping me several times a day in the meantime, then goddammit, that's what I'm going to have to do.

  I lean over and give her a lingering kiss. "Hold that thought. I'll be right back."

  She pouts a little as I leave.

  I hurry into the kitchen and set a tray with warm eggnog and some glasses. On the other side of the bench, Mom smiles at me while fussing with the presentation of her platters.

  Every year she makes enough food to feed half of Manhattan, which means she sends us home with loads of leftovers. I'd give her shit about it if I didn't love her food so much.

  While her back is turned, I sneak a crab cake and shove it into my mouth.

  God. So good.

  I'm about to grab another when Mom says, "Take one more, and you lose a hand."

  I chuckle and go kiss her cheek. "If you don't want me to steal your food, then stop making it so delicious." When she gives me a rueful smile, I sneak another crab cake.

  "Anyway," I mumble with a full mouth, "I'm a growing boy. I need energy."

  That's true. Though I consider myself a pretty fit guy, Cassie's wearing me out. Her sexual revolution also includes trying positions I've only seen in really old, really porny books. The result is fantastic sex but an exhausted Ethan. I feel as if I've gone ten rounds in the UFC octagon. Muscles I didn't even know I had are aching.

  Mom puts the finishing touches on her freshly made bread rolls before unpacking the bag of food Cassie brought.

  "Two dishes this year, sweetheart? I see your usual potato au gratin, but what's this? Green bean casserole? Great! It's been a while since I've had that. I'm looking forward to it."

  I open my mouth to warn her that Cassie made it, but if I can't laugh at her getting drunk on spiked eggnog, then I'll have to get my fun another way.

  "Yeah, make sure you load up your fork, Mom. You won't have tasted anything like it before." Not unless you've licked the inside of a nuclear reactor.

  I kiss her on the forehead before taking the eggnog out to the living room and serving it to everyone. After the first sip, we can all tell it's way too light on the alcohol, and Dad doesn't waste any time topping up our glasses with some of his most expensive brandy.

  Cassie sips at her glass cautiously.

  "You okay?" I ask.

  She nods and steps closer to me so she can whisper. "Just making sure I don't get drunk in front of your parents. I'm struggling with my self control tonight, and sloppy-groping you under the dinner table might not be the best way to impress my future in-laws."

  "Maybe not, but it would sure as hell impress me."

  I lean down and kiss her cheek. Then her ear. Then the side of her neck. There's something taboo about being turned on by her in my childhood home, so of course I now have an erection roughly the size of the Freedom Tower.

  I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her against me. The pressure of her body helps a little, but I'd have to get a whole lot closer for true relief. Her eyes go wide when she registers how hard I am.

  "Ethan," she whispers and glances briefly over to where my dad is chatting with Elissa and Josh before looking down at my crotch. "If you rub that thing on me again, I won't be held responsible for what I do in front of your family. For the sake of my dignity, and what little modesty I have left, put it away."

  I stroke her back and grind just a little. "Where exactly should I put it? I have a few ideas, but I'd like to hear yours."

  She looks at me in a way that screams she's aroused and pissed. Probably pissed because she's aroused. That combination isn't helping me be less turned on.

  "Ethan, I'm not kidding. Stop looking at me like I’m tonight’s main course and deflate that thing. De-stiffen it. Un-woodify it. Anything. Just stop making me want you in front of your family. Otherwise, I'm going to have to resort to the one method I know will make him go away." She looks toward the front hall.

  I chuckle. "Tell me you're not talking about having sex in the downstairs bathroom while my family sips eggnog."

  "Of course not," she says with incredulity before tugging down my head so she can whisper in my ear. "I was thinking more like in your bed upstairs. That wooden headboard is pretty sturdy. It would be great for gripping while I ride you. Just saying."

  "Jesus, Cassie." I drop my head onto her shoulder. "You go
tta stop saying things like that. I'm aching like a son-of-a-bitch over here."

  She picks up a nearby magazine and fans herself. "You think your boner hurts? Let me tell you, when a girl gets super turned on, everything swells and aches and throbs. It's more than painful. It's torture. And being like this when I can't do anything about it only makes it worse."

  I step away from her and run my fingers through my hair. I thought we were kidding around, but now that she's conjured an image of her riding me in my childhood bed, I can't get rid of it. I've never had sex in that bed. It's seen plenty of hand action over the years and a small amount of heavy petting, but never the full show. I'd like nothing better than to take Cassie upstairs right now and remedy that.

  "You know," Cassie says as she runs her fingers over my pecs. "You could make an excuse that you want to show me something upstairs. We could be done in five minutes. Less if you put your mouth on me."

  I'm about to crack and do what she wants when Mom calls, "Okay, everyone. Take your seats. Dinner's ready."

  Dad carries in a platter holding a huge bird, and the rest of the table is covered in platters of delicious-looking food. Everything smells so good, I'm momentarily distracted from my need to be inside Cassie.

  Everyone takes their seats as Dad carves the turkey, but when Cassie goes to follow, I grab her hand and pull her back to me.

  "You're pure evil for getting me this turned on right before dinner. Be prepared for punishment later."

  "Fine by me," she mutters.

  "Also ... how about we not tell anyone you made the green bean casserole until after they've tried it? It'll be a surprise."

  She glances at everyone sitting at the table. "Okay, sure. That could be fun. I can't wait to hear what they think."

  It's only now I realize this whole thing could backfire. I've been thinking about how funny it will be to see my family's reaction to her food, but I forgot she'd be here to witness it. If they react how I predict, she'll be crushed. As we take our seats, I try and figure out how to best handle the situation.

  Mom piles our plates with steaming turkey while Dad fills our wine glasses. Then various platters get passed back and forth as we stock up with sides.