Holly Jolly Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Trademark

  Chapter One: Bah Humbug

  Chapter Two: A Touch of Christmas Spirit

  Chapter Three: A Merry Little Christmas

  About Silvia Violet

  About Mischief Corner Books

  Mischief Corner Books Presents

  Holly Jolly

  Silvia Violet

  About the e-Book You Have Purchased:

  This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from the authors. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Cover Artist: Catherine Dair

  Typographer: Catherine Dair

  Editor: Erika O Williams

  First Edition

  Holly Jolly © 2014 Silvia Violet

  All Rights Reserved.

  Published in the United States of America.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: Holly Jolly is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are fictionalized. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The story contains explicit sexual content and is intended for adult readers.

  Any person depicted in the Licensed Art Material is a model and is being used solely for illustrative purposes.

  PUBLISHER

  Mischief Corner Books, LLC

  Dedication

  To Hank Edwards

  Without your suggestion, we'd all be going nuts.

  Much love, the Mischief Corner Crew.

  And to Tim Brehme for egging Hank on.

  Hats off, gentlemen.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following word marks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Abita: Abita Brewing Company, LLC

  A Christmas Story: Turner Entertainment Co.

  Die Hard: Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation

  Excedrin: Novartis AG

  Holly Jolly Christmas: Classic Media, Inc.

  It's a Wonderful Life: Melange Pictures, LLC

  Chapter One: Bah Humbug

  I shook my head as I watched Shelley toss back another shot. Her face looked oddly green in the glow from thousands of colored holiday lights, part of the Tacky Christmas theme the office decorators had apparently gone for. Shelley's day had been hellacious. No one could deny that, but getting trashed at the office Christmas party wasn't going to get her any closer to the promotion she wanted.

  She slammed down her glass and shouted at Dane, the bartender, for another. If he hadn't glanced her way, I would've doubted he'd heard over the blaring strains of a squeaky-voiced rendition of The Christmas Song that would've made Nat King Cole slam his head against the wall.

  Dane handed a glass of white wine to an older woman from investor services before heading our way. I couldn't help but notice the line of his jaw, the softness of his lips, the scruff on his face. I usually found the scruffy look obnoxious, but on him, it looked anything but.

  He usually worked in The Coffee Bean, a shop in the lobby of our building, and a few times—okay, maybe more than a few—I'd gotten a second cup of coffee just to catch a glimpse of him. The thing is, I'm not gay. I mean—yeah, I've noticed men before, but it wasn't like I wanted to sleep with them. I was just acknowledging that they looked good. Sculpted bodies, soft, well-trimmed beards, a beautiful pair of eyes—I was appreciating them, like art.

  But I couldn't fathom the intensity of my attraction to Dane. If he was anywhere near me, I was instantly aware of him. And when I thought about him, about what it would be like to… No, I didn't need that kind of complication. I no longer believed it was wrong to be gay, despite what my parents had drilled into me as a kid. It just…wasn't me. I'd been through enough changes in the last two years. I'd cut myself off from my family, from their expectations, from most of my childhood friends. I couldn't pretend to be who they wanted me to be.

  Once I'd gotten away—thanks to a scholarship to LSU that allowed me to transfer from the Bible college my parents had sent me to—I realized I was absolutely right to have doubts about the beliefs I'd been forced to swallow. I stopped going to church. I started voting for liberals. I even indulged in alcoholic beverages, and after waiting longer than one might have thought possible, I had sex—out of wedlock. It hadn't been as good as I'd expected, though. Maybe I'd waited too long, built up the experience too much, or maybe I still feared just a little bit that God would strike me down for turning my back on my promise to my parents, but sex hadn't been as life-changing as I expected. Pleasurable, but not earth-shattering.

  Would it be earth-shattering with Dane?

  Where had that thought come from? The last thing I needed was another major life change. Rejecting nearly everything I'd been taught growing up was enough to last me for a few more years. I'd graduated and gotten an excellent job in the marketing department of a bank in downtown Baton Rouge. Over the last year, I'd proven I could support myself. The only way my family would help me was if I repented and returned to the bosom of the church. I was determined to show them just how successful I could be without biblical guidance.

  I hadn't decided yet if I believed in God or not, but I definitely didn't believe in the God my parents worshipped. If He or She were out there, God wasn't a bigot or a hypocrite. That I was certain of.

  Dane caught my eye and raised a brow, clearly asking me if he should serve Shelley another drink. I shook my head and wrapped my arm around her shoulders. "You've had enough. Let me take you home."

  She pulled away and grinned at Dane. "You're not going to listen to him, are you? He's way too much of a killjoy. It's sad really."

  My face heated. "Shelley, please. Let's just go."

  "Are you really going to refuse me?" she asked Dane.

  "I think you'd do best to listen to your friend."

  She got a wicked look on her face and I braced myself. Even sober she was good at embarrassing me. "Shelley." I used my best I'm-warning-you tone.

  She leaned over the bar. "If you won't give me tequila, how about giving me your number?" She dug around in her massive purse and finally produced her phone. "What time is it anyway? Surely you need a break, honey. You wanna take a break with me?"

  Dane smiled kindly, but I could see he was going to let her down. "That is a lovely offer, but actually—" He looked at me and winked. "—he's more my type."

  I sucked in my breath and stared, mouth hanging open. I must have looked like an idiot, but his eyes sparkled with heat. My cock started to harden. What the fuck was going on with me?

  Shelley punched my arm. "Why don't you go for it, then? Might loosen you up."

  I stared at her like she'd grown another head.

  She laughed loudly, attracting more attention. "I'd be happy to watch."

  What the fuck? "Shelley, you really need to let me take you home."

  She shook her head. "No way. If the shits in management are going to screw me, at least I can take them for all the free tequila I can get."

  "Don't ruin your career over a couple of asinine comments."

  Dane nodded. "He's right. Let him take you home or at least somewhere else. You don't want to do this at work."

  Her eyes filled with tears. "It's so fucking unfair."

  Dane patted her arm. "I'm sure it is, but screwing yourself won't make it any better."

  "You're positive you don't want to screw me instead?" she asked.

  I couldn't
help being embarrassed for her, but the truth was, she was that blunt sober.

  "Sorry, darling, and no, I won't do him in front of you either."

  I choked on the swallow of soda I'd just taken. "Look, I—"

  Dane shook his head. "Get her out of here. We can talk later."

  I helped Shelley get to her feet and kept my arm around her so she wouldn't fall.

  "Tom." It was Dane calling me. I hadn't realized he knew my name. I turned around, and he handed me a folded napkin. "Later," he mouthed.

  When I had Shelley tucked into the passenger seat of my car, I pulled the napkin out of my pocket and looked at it as I walked toward the driver's side. His number was scrawled on it with the message "call me." Oh my God, he actually did want to go out with me. Okay, more realistically, he probably wanted to sleep with me. But I'm not…

  Oh really? So why did your cock get hard when he looked at you?

  * * * * *

  Monday morning. I debated picking up coffee before I got to my building. I'd thrown away the napkin Dane had given me as soon as I got home Saturday night. Then I'd spent every waking moment, and some of my sleeping ones, thinking about the man, about his smile, about what it would be like to kiss him, about how no way in hell was I going to jerk off thinking about him. Absolutely not.

  The chain coffee place I passed on my walk had a line out the door, and the cheerful chorus of "Deck the Halls" that floated out into the street had me snarling. I was beyond tired of everyone's holiday cheer. My Christmas memories centered around spending hours in church followed by more prayers and Bible readings at my grandmother's house, and of course having to hear all about what Santa had brought all my friends. My parents didn't do Santa. They said he was representative of the Satan-led secularization of Christmas.

  Now that I've put all that behind me, I'm no more into secularized Christmas cheer than I was Christmas piety. Christmas is just a time when I feel more lonely than usual. Damn, I'm a bitter old man at twenty-four.

  I decided to gamble on Dane having the morning off. He didn't usually work on Mondays, not that I'd intentionally memorized his schedule. I'm just good at remembering such things.

  When I entered the lobby of my building, a boys' choir trilling out the notes of "The Twelve Days of Christmas" assaulted my ears. As I tried to shake off the overdose of Christmas cheer, I realized Dane was behind the counter in The Coffee Bean working the espresso machine. My stomach flip-flopped when he glanced my way and grinned. I stood there, paralyzed, until my legs got the panic message from my brain, and I dashed for the elevator just as the doors started to close.

  No coffee for me today. Maybe I could down a couple of Excedrin and get a soda from the machine. That ought to give me about the right amount of caffeine.

  I stepped out when the elevator stopped and realized I wasn't even on my floor. There was a men's room right in front of me so I pushed through the door and locked myself in a stall. My pulse rate was through the roof, and I had to lean my head against the wall to keep the world from spinning.

  Was I about to have a heart attack? Shelley had told me many times that I had to get a hold of my stress level, that the world wouldn't end if everything didn't go perfectly according to my plan. But she didn't understand how important it was that I be in control of my life, not my family, not an invisible deity, not a dubiously translated religious tome. I set goals and I met them. And as long as I succeeded, I'd done the right thing when I'd given up having a family, no matter how much I occasionally missed them.

  But plan or no plan, I couldn't lie to myself anymore. I wanted to go out with Dane, to get to know him, to find out what it would feel like to kiss him. Had I really buried my gayness so far down that even telling my parents I didn't consider myself a Christian hadn't freed me up to admit I like men? Or was it just Dane? Was there something about him that no other man had? Was I gay or bi or what, and how the hell was I supposed to figure it out?

  I'd run away from my family and their conservative views, but apparently, I hadn't run far enough. Admitting I liked Dane didn't mean I was capable of asking him out, though. I was just going to have to hide—like the fucking coward I was—until he gave up on me.

  A few minutes later, I exited the elevator on the correct floor. Shelley greeted me with a smile that was way too perky for the hour. As much as she'd drunk on Saturday, I was surprised she wasn't still hungover. She glanced down at my empty hands and frowned. "Where's your coffee?"

  I'd never arrived at work without a cup of coffee. Predictable was my middle name. "I'm…uh…giving up caffeine."

  She raised her brows. "What the fuck is that about? Did you get hypnotized by a health nut on the way to work?"

  "No, I just thought I'd quit, that's all. I don't want to be dependent on it."

  Her eyes narrowed. "Is there something we need to talk about?"

  Shit! Did she actually remember Dane saying he was my type? Did she remember saying she'd like to watch? I hoped she was joking about that. I loved Shelley, but…seriously!

  She smirked and patted my shoulder. "I have a feeling you'll get this caffeine deprivation idea out of you system soon."

  "Shelley…"

  She grinned as if she knew exactly what I was thinking and found me ridiculous. "Yes?"

  I sighed, not up for explaining myself. "Nothing. I'm not thinking straight this morning."

  She laughed. "Actually you are and that's the problem. You could fix that if you go get your caffeine fix."

  She smirked and walked off as I stood there, staring. She looked over her shoulder. "Come get me for lunch if you want to talk."

  * * * * *

  A few hours later, Shelley showed up at my desk with a large coffee. "Dane says 'hi'. And he missed you this morning."

  I felt cold and hot all at once. "I told you I was trying to quit." I gestured toward the coffee.

  She snorted. "You haven't gotten a thing done all morning."

  "How do you know? Unless all you've been doing is watching me?"

  She tapped her head. "Mind powers."

  I rolled my eyes. "Right."

  "Just drink the fucking coffee."

  I nodded and took a sip. I'd been dying for some and there was no way in hell I was turning it down. She'd already paid for it after all.

  Shelley grinned, disgustingly smug. "Dane sure is hot. If he'd given me his number, I'd have used it as soon as I got home."

  "Shelley, I'm not discussing Dane."

  "You can't just ignore what you're feeling."

  Actually, I could. I had to, because another serious change in my life might just kill me. "Shelley, please."

  "Fine, I won't say anything else, but I'll be thinking it."

  Dammit, she would, and I'd know it.

  True to her word, she did not say a thing for the rest of the week. Every morning, I rushed through the lobby praying Dane wouldn't notice me, despite the numerous times I swore to myself that I would go into the shop, place my order, be polite, and pretend the intense attraction I felt for Dane didn't exist. And every morning Shelley showed up at my desk an hour or so after I'd arrived and handed me a cup of coffee with a knowing look in her eyes.

  * * * * *

  On Friday, Shelley insisted I wasn't allowed to eat the boring lunch I'd brought from home. "I'm flying out to my parents' tomorrow morning, and I won't see you for over a week. You need to get out of here, and I need a calzone from D'Ambrosio's."

  At least I think that's what she said; the blinking Christmas lights on her sweater distracted me. Some holiday-crazed individual had suggested we make the last Friday before Christmas Tacky Christmas Sweater Day despite the fact that no one needed to wear a sweater in our climate. Shelley had gone full-out, shaking her head at my lack of participation.

  I wanted to refuse, not because I didn't enjoy spending time with her, but because she'd restrained herself on the subject of Dane all week, and I didn't think she would be able to keep silent if she got me alone.

&nb
sp; Last year, when she found out I intended to spend Christmas alone, she'd come up with about sixty-five schemes to "Save Tom's Christmas". This year, she'd yet to present me with a single one, but I was certain she had them in her head and they all involved Dane.

  Shelley kept the conversation light as we walked the three blocks to D'Ambrosio's, our favorite Italian place. Bing Crosby was singing away when we stepped inside and a miniature tree covered in tiny ornaments sat by the register, but overall they'd kept their Christmas display tame. After we'd placed our orders at the counter, we took our numbers and sodas to a table.

  As soon as were seated, Shelley said, "You've got to call him."

  "Wow. The direct approach."

  She grinned. "You told me you dislike complex schemes."

  "Only when they involve me and holidays."

  "Or dating or vacationing or most things other people consider fun."

  I rolled my eyes. "I have fun."

  "When?"

  Um… "I went to the office party."

  "And took care of me."

  "And I…" Work a lot, then go home by myself. I enjoyed watching TV or reading in the evenings, but I knew that wasn't what Shelley meant.

  "Would it kill you try to do something fun, to spend some time with someone other than me?"

  "You seem to be forgetting a major point here."

  "If you say 'I'm not gay', I'm going to kick you. So he's a guy. You're attracted to him. It's not like you have to have ass sex on the first date. Just go out to dinner or something."

  I looked up to see a young man standing by our table with our order. He grinned at me and I choked on a piece of ice so hard Shelley looked liked she was about to jump up and perform the Heimlich maneuver. Eventually, I got myself under control.