Dirty Christmas (The Dirty Suburbs Book 9) Page 3

  He guffaws, a deep throaty sound. “Beauty, trust me I would let you through if I could but within 100 metres, I'd be peeling your pretty body off of the roadway when I’d rather be peeling that little dress off ya after a nice steak dinner." He lifts a brow in question. "Saturday night?"

  It’s a struggle not to roll my eyes."I'm flattered officer. But we're on my way to hubby's family for the Holidays and I don’t think my mother-in-law would forgive me for ducking out on the festivities to go for restaurant food, y’know?”

  Riggs laughs and throws me a wink. “She sounds like the pesky, old-fashioned type.”

  “Well, some are blind to everything but her virtues.” I stab a thumb in Wesley’s direction, pretending to be discreet. Wesley rolls his eyes as me and the officer chuckle at our inside joke.

  Wesley reaches his limit. “So, are you letting us drive through or not?” he explodes.

  The cop’s disdainful gaze falls on my carmate. “Not a chance, man.”

  I groan, dropping my flirtatious grin in defeat.

  Riggs is all business now. “Next exit’s about 20 minutes away. Go into Copper Heights and loop around. Take your time. It’s slippery out here tonight.”

  “Ugh! Whatever.”

  He raps his knuckles against the roof of the car. “Be safe on the roads, folks,” he says just as I’m rolling up the window and pulling back onto the highway.

  Wesley snickers in the seat beside me.

  What an infuriating man!

  He’s lucky I like Annaleigh or I’d tie a rope to his waist and make him paraglide on my tailgate all the way up to Reyfield.

  Chapter 4

  Wesley

  I shift in the tiny, uncomfortable seat. My knees are almost up to my chin in here. Pretty sure I'm going to need a chiropractor by the time we get to Reyfield. My stomach twists with hunger, making it hard to focus on the source code I'm trying to debug on my laptop.

  Jesus—I could eat a rhinoceros right now.

  This little detour is just further proof that I should have stayed in San Francisco. Everything that can go wrong is going wrong. One thing after another. What’s next? Do I wake up tomorrow morning in Nepal sitting in a bathtub of ice missing a kidney or something? It wouldn’t be much of a stretch at this point.

  The car screeches as Sanaya pulls onto the on-ramp into Copper Heights. I brace myself with hand on the dashboard just as my stomach churns with a loud groan. She looks over at me in the dim cab. "We're gonna stop for something to eat," she informs me.

  "I don't think that's a good idea. I'm hungry but I can wait." I just want to finally get to my sister's, have a sandwich and take a hot shower before dropping into bed.

  Staring at her defined profile, I see one eyebrow arch up and she smirks. "Good to know that you'll survive but, I'm the one driving and I'm starving. If my blood pressure drops and I pass out behind the wheel, we're both going into the ditch."

  Touché.

  I don’t bother protest. I’m too damn exhausted and my bad mood isn’t doing anybody any good. I already scratched Sanaya once this evening. I’ll just keep my mouth shut to keep from hurting her feelings again.

  She giggles at my expression and pats me on the shoulder. "I'm buying you a drink, Computer Boy. You need to lighten the hell up before you spontaneously combust all over my dashboard. Just had the upholstery cleaned last Thursday. Eighty-seven dollars. Can you believe that?"

  I huff out a laugh through my nose and bring my eyes to the road. The snow seems to be letting up a bit for now but the little two-story buildings are already nicely blanketed in white. We veer onto a narrow street called Main Street. How original. The car bumps alongside the row of small mom and pop businesses squeezed side by side. It's like a throwback to the 1950s.

  Sanaya's silky hair tumbles over her shoulders as she angles forward, peering through the snowflakes hitting the windshield.

  "This looks...good?" Her lilt betrays her uncertainty as she angles her chin, toward the quaint Italian restaurant sitting at the edge of the block. Gallo's, the green awning overhanging the sidewalk says under its thin dusting of snow. "See any parking spaces?"

  Before I have the chance to look around for an empty spot, the car lurches forward, tires squealing a note that sets my teeth on edge.

  Did we just hit black ice?!

  My life flashes before my eyes. Sanaya's smiling face is the last in the series of blinking images. I knew this beautiful rogue pixie would be the death of me.

  I haven't even seen her tits yet. Oh god—I’m not ready to go.

  But the car doesn’t smash into a fire hydrant or wrap itself around a parking meter. Instead, it spins 180 degrees, heaves into reverse and grinds down a powdery snow bank as my lunatic chauffeur lines it up with the curb before it jerks to a halt.

  “Come on," she says casually, gesturing with her hand. All happy-go-lucky. Meanwhile, I’m sitting here recovering from a mini heart attack, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that that was a U-turn!!

  Look—I may not be a great judge of best practices for driving in winter conditions. I’m from California and it never snows out there. But I’d say that this girl is a pretty reckless driver. She switches lanes without checking her mirrors. She tries to convince cops to let her drive on closed roads. She spent half the drive glaring at the side of my head when her eyes should have been on the road. Being her passenger is like auditioning for a role in the Transporter.

  At this point, I need some fresh air. So my head can stop spinning.

  She shoves at her door, pushing all her weight at it. The thing struggles against the wall of snow on the other side. She looks like she's about to tear the metal right off its hinges if she doesn't take a headdive onto the pavement first.

  Is this woman crazy?

  I’m not sure. But something about her makes me feel so alive. I guess that makes me reckless too but I like the way my heart pounds and my blood pumps when I'm with her.

  I hop out of the passenger's side door and jog around the front of the car before this beautiful mess goes flying headfirst onto the slippery sidewalk. I reach her just as her foot slides on the icy embankment and her body thrusts forward. My arms shoot out in front of me and it's okay—I've got her…until the sole of my sneaker skids on a patch of ice.

  Her momentum sends me flying backward. I yelp as my back hits the pavement and her petite frame comes crashing into mine. My body goes sledding across the sidewalk with her on top of me. We don’t stop sliding until my skull slams painfully into the restaurant’s front door.

  Sanaya is on top of me, gawking down at me with wide, terrified eyes and her jaw hanging loose. "Oh my god. Are you okay?" She looks utterly petrified.

  But all I can feel is the weight of her body lying flush along mine, the flutter of her breath against my mouth, the pressure of her pelvis rocking against me as she tries to move. The alarm in her features melts, giving way to a blush when she feels my erection pressing up against her.

  She gasps softly. “You pig…” She slaps my chest but it almost feels like a caress.

  My cock twitches against her and I’m not ashamed. The girl plucks on my nerves like guitar strings but what can I say? I’m warm-blooded. She's hot. Sexy as hell. Gorgeous face with a body that makes my balls ache. She’s smart as a whip. Tough as titanium. She’s fearless.

  Yes—she’s a bit of a nut but her list of redeeming qualities is long.

  Even as she throws the accusation my way, her eyes go hazy and her tongue rolls across her lips. I sense the shift in her breathing and her heart stomps an erratic rhythm against my chest.

  My hands move up her thighs, stealing under hem of her dress and now my palms cradle her ass cheeks, fingers clenching around those fleshy globes. She leans closer. She’s so close, her mouth merely inches away. My eyes flutter shut. It would be…so easy to…just…

  "Ouch!"

  I yelp when the restaurant door swings open and cracks me in the skull. Sanaya bolts upright on m
y lap. The patron on the other side of the door startles, shrieking loudly as her takeout container of warm, tomatoey, cheesy I-have-no-idea-what lands on my face.

  "Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod!" The woman screams and her group of girlfriends huddle around the impromptu about-to-be-a-porno scene underway on the sidewalk.

  Sanaya rolls off of me, barely clinging to her balance in her impractical heels. And now my enormous hard-on is on full display.

  I wipe a handful of warm pasta off of my face. "It's not what it looks like!" I try to get up but stop myself mid-effort. Ugh! My head fucking hurts! I run my hand down the back of my achy cranium.

  Two of the restaurant’s servers show up at the door, all dressed up like Santa's elves. They push through the small crowd.

  Sanaya starts flailing her arms all about. "He fell and hit his head! My boyfriend fell and hit his head!" she announces frantically, face pleated with concern. Her hair is a mess. Tomato sauce stains the front of her white blazer and her dress.

  My brows perk up. Five minutes ago we couldn't stand each other. Two minutes ago, we nearly fucked on the sidewalk. Now apparently, we're going steady.

  This is already the most complicated relationship I've ever had.

  The waitress is in a tiny green velvet dress with a thick belt around her waist and a fur-rimmed stocking hat over her wild golden coils.

  She punches the waiter in the shoulder. "You forgot to sprinkle salt on the sidewalk, you idiot! Now, we've got our customers doing the slip and slide outside our front door."

  He scratches the side of his head. "Fuck..." he mutters under his breath as he rubs his arm. He looks like a doofus with his red suspenders and his green velvet pants tucked into knee-length stripped socks.

  "Should we call an ambulance?" the waitress asks, glimpsing back nervously at her coworker.

  “I’m fine, I’m fine,” I say, trying to appease my audience despite the shooting pain radiating all along my tailbone. I don’t have some major head trauma. I just need to walk it off.

  "Are you sure?" Sanaya asks caringly, her expression so soft, so tender.

  I grin up at her, touching her pretty face. Still so captivated by her beauty. "I'm fine. Promise."

  With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she leans down over me and wipes at my pasta-covered face with her scarf. “Play along,” she whispers in my ear before turning back to the spectators gathering all around us. "I think we should go to the hospital," she screeches with bulging eyes focused on the wait staff. "I think we should go to the hospital. I'm a lawyer and if my fiance ends up with a brain clot because of your incompetence, I swear to god, I'll sue the heck out of this restaurant!" I watch as she discreetly slips one of those gaudy baubles off of her right hand and slips it onto her ring finger.

  Now, we're engaged. This relationship continues to escalate.

  Sanaya speaks to the restaurant staff. "I'm going to need to see a manager. Right this minute."

  "Please. Come inside." The scared-looking waiter offers me a hand to help me up. "Let's get you cleaned up and get you a beer, ay?"

  "Now, that's more like it," Sanaya barks.

  I grab a fresh T-shirt from the car before leaving the crowd behind and walking into the dim Italian eatery with Sanaya’s arm hooked through mine. She quietly coaxes me to put a little limp into my step.

  I sneer at her. She snickers.

  The jingle of Christmas carols and the dizzying blink of colored string lights assault my senses immediately. The waitress leads Sanaya off to the female employees' changing room while the waiter points me in the direction of the men's washroom.

  Ripping off my stained shirt, I slip into my clean graphic tee. Since I forgot my hoodie on the plane, unfortunately I'm stuck in short sleeves in the dead of winter. I wash my face under the warm spray of water in the sink and scrub as much as I can. My top lip still smells like basil and olive oil but at least now I don’t look like I just escaped that crazy tomato fight they have in Spain every summer.

  I head back for the dining room and drop down into a leather booth, resigning to my shitty fate with a sigh. Every time I think that this day can’t get worse, it does. Now to compound the issue, I have blue balls and a headache. Nice!

  I need to get to Reyfield and get this day over with now. It’s urgent.

  My eyes search the humming restaurant for Sanaya. As soon as she gets back, I'm going to tell her to just grab some takeout so we can hit the road. I don't want to stick around for anything else to happen. Enough is enough.

  I pull out my phone to check the road conditions, praying, praying that I can find some news online. But my app won’t load even though my data is on. I check for open wifi networks. No luck. Come to think of it, I don’t even have telephone signal. I growl. “Why is my internet not working?”

  The back of my neck tingles and I feel a presence over my shoulder. “Don’t fight it, babe. It’s an act of God.”

  My chest clenches when I see Sanaya standing next to me. Jesus Henry Christ.

  Now, she's a sexy little elf, too.

  She's changed into one of those tiny green dresses that all the waitresses are wearing, with her legs out and her tits spilling over the low dip of the V-neck. The shimmery fabric accentuates the hints of olive in her skin tone and makes her skin glow radiantly. Her pantyhose are gone, revealing the golden length of her thighs.

  With an irritated look on her face, she slides into our leather booth and sighs heavily. "This ridiculous outfit is all the waitress could find. I have a mind to sue this place just for making me have to wear this crap."

  She’s complaining? She obviously has no idea how sexy she looks right now. I'm tempted to just pull her behind the Christmas tree and have my way with her.

  Before I can set my plan in motion, she asks a question that makes my newfound joy go spinning down the drain. “So, tell me, Mr. Grump Machine—why do you hate this time of year? What did Christmas ever do to you?”

  She settles back into her seat, completely unaware of how the answer to that question flipped my entire life on its head when I was only 10 years old.

  I draw a breath into my lungs. “My mother left on Christmas.”

  The playful expression on her face sags, collapsing into sympathy. “Oh my god, Wesley…I had no idea…”

  Twirling a plastic straw around in my fingers, I avoid her gaze. “Christmas Eve. Thought I heard something in the middle of the night. I was too old to believe in Santa, but I did anyway. So, I hear this noise downstairs and I jump out of bed. Creep down the stairs.”

  I pull in a breath and hold it. I can’t believe it still hurts so much after all this time.

  “I expected to see a big old guy in a red suit hunched over the living room table, eating cookies and drinking milk. Instead, it was my mom sneaking out, hauling her bags to the car waiting outside. She looked up and she saw me. And this look came over her face. Now that I’m older, I realize, it was guilt…She pressed her finger to her mouth, begging me to be quiet. I didn’t understand what was happening so I did. She hurried outside. Jumped in the car. Sped off. She never came back.”

  I finally meet Sanaya’s disbelieving gaze. There’s so much pity there. It makes me feel weak. Pathetic. “I’m so sorry…” she whispers quietly. “I can’t imagine how that must have felt. You were so young.”

  I make a quick attempt to downplay the event. “That was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter now. It’s just…It showed me that Christmas is bullshit.”

  She smiles a soft, compassionate smile. “Really sucks that she did that. And you may not want to hear it, but your mom was a shitty person.”

  My brow darts up in surprise. A laugh spurts out of my mouth. “Uh…people don’t normally go around insulting other people’s mothers,” I say, “I think we’ve all come to a collective, societal agreement on the matter.”

  She laughs, too. “No, I have to say it. And it’s true. Moms don’t just run out on their kids in the middle of the night. Especially on Christmas
. Now, you’re all jaded. You don’t believe in the magic. It’s terrible that she stole that way from you.”

  There’s so much passion in her voice, so much sincerity. It almost gets me to reconsider my position. Almost.

  “You can take your power back,” she tells me. “Now that you’re older and you know better, you can take your power back. You can enjoy Christmas. The choice is yours.”

  “Jeez—you sound like a PBS Special.”

  She rolls her eyes. “All I’m saying is this—the season is all about love, joy and good cheer. Isn't that what they say? You can chose to experience it that way.” She looks down at her hands on the table and grins out of one corner of her mouth. “Anyway, what do I know? I'm just a Hindu girl from Brooklyn.”