Nutcracker

  Nutcracker

  An Insta Love OTT Holiday Romance

  Flora Madison

  Copyright © 2019 by Flora Madison

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Epilogue

  A Very Curvy Christmas

  Also by Flora Madison

  Thanks for Reading!

  1

  Avery

  Filled with holiday cheer, not to mention a few adult beverages, everyone at my office Christmas party is tearing it up around me. My fingers fly across my keyboard as I take a deep breath. These emails won’t answer themselves, even on December twenty-third. Music blares from the speakers just outside my cubicle. Co-workers in Santa hats bob along to the swanky Holiday tunes of yesteryear. To be honest, I’d love to join in and have some fun. But people forget that the holidays aren’t always a reason to celebrate. Especially when you have no one to celebrate them with.

  Over my monitor, I catch a glimpse of the cookie tray. Obviously, I’ll have to make my way over there. The Snickerdoodles, my absolute favorite cookie ever, are going fast. If I’m choosing work over play, I deserve a sugary snack. My lips twist at the thought of joining the party, but before I can stop myself I’ve wheeled out of my desk chair, already in mid-stride toward the dessert table.

  My sweaty palms smooth my black skirt. It’s tight enough already without the added calories of a sugar bomb. When I’m depressed, I eat. These extra few pounds I’ve packed on in the last month are a testament to my mental state.

  I dodge my weaving co-workers who don’t seem to notice me. Most companies don’t have drinks but we’re a small firm in Downtown Manhattan and our boss, Gabe Everson, does what he wants without a second thought of what anyone else thinks. If he only knew how much I thought about him. Those coal-black eyes, nearly the same color as his hair. The way he fills out those expensive suits with his hulking, muscular build. Even his unassuming husky voice could send chills up my arms on the hottest day.

  I glance around again, but Gabe’s nowhere in sight. He’s probably in his office. Planning an amazing Christmas with his family. A pang of sadness squeezes my chest causing my heart rate to quicken. Anxiety is a twitchy bitch, she is. My hand presses against my silk blouse. The booze table is just a few feet away.

  I guess one glass of wine won’t hurt.

  On instinct, I reach for the white wine and pour myself a half-glass, set the bottle down, and on second thought fill my glass the rest of the way. The first sip goes down smooth as a salon blowout. I nudge my way to the cookie tray and grab three, saving myself another trip into holiday party madness.

  “I know it’s a holiday party and all.” Gigi from Accounting’s nasally voice vibrates in my ear. Standing too close, right behind me from the sound of it, she smells like she’s been soaking up the free booze. “But can you believe Gabe made us come in on Christmas Eve-Eve?”

  I unwillingly turn to face her. “Christmas Eve-Eve?” I repeat. “Is that an actual thing?”

  Gigi ignores my question and wraps her arm around my shoulder. I try not to visibly flinch. “He knew we’d have to work all day if we wanted to party.” Her bleach blonde hair tickles my cheek. “He’s a ball buster. No, he’s a Nutcracker.” Gigi laughs at her own joke, throwing her head back and taking a merciful step away from me. “Oh my God, he’s a Nutcracker!”

  A splash of wine escapes my cup as Gigi brushes past me, calling out to her department buddies. “You guys,” she says, stumbling in their direction. “I just came up with a good one.”

  I take a deep breath, cookies slightly crumbled in my hand. I’ve got to get back to my desk and fast. This might be one of Dante’s rings of hell? For me, at least.

  With my desk in sight, I brush past a few of the Human Resources team, but I make the mistake of locking eyes with the manager, David. His empathy skills, while a gift to his career, can be a real bitch when you’re off the clock. Before I can dodge him, he steps right in front of me.

  “Avery, I love your skirt.”

  I wear it every other day. “Thanks,” I say.

  “Are you excited for the holidays?”

  Not really. “It’ll be nice to have a few days off.”

  “Any big plans?”

  Does sleeping until the ball drops count? “Not really.”

  “Where’s your family from again?” His eyes narrow, head tilting to the side. I twist my ring around my finger. My stomach churns as heat washes over me like a tidal wave.

  “Illinois.” I say quickly.

  “Are you able to make it home?” The room spins, and I can’t quite feel my feet underneath me. Ragged breathing racks my chest. David’s eyes dart to my hand, now visibly shaking. “Avery?” He says in his soft voice. “Are you okay?”

  My tongue’s two sizes too big. I forget how to swallow. When I can finally find my voice, it comes out as a weak whisper. “No, I have… work to do.” David’s eyes widen, and I break his gaze. “Excuse me.”

  I step around him, the world tilting on its axis. I should’ve taken a sick day. It’s only been two years since my parents died on Christmas Eve and this is all too overwhelming. The room’s volume heightens, too loud. Laughter turns evil. Music thuds, all bass and little melody. I need to get myself to the restroom, climb in a stall, and let myself have a good cry.

  With shaky hands, I set my wine and cookies on my desk without stopping. The bathroom’s only a few feet away. Black spots dance before my eyes. My hand grazes against the wall, guiding me, a lifeline.

  I cross the hall, but before I can make it to the bathroom, Gabe steps right in front of me, accidentally blocking my path. My chest bounces off of him, sending me backward a step. His strong hands grip the sides of my arms.

  “Avery, are you okay?” His shiny eyes bring me back to the present. Sweat tickles my underarms. And before I have the wherewithal to stop it, I’m crying a river in front of my boss.

  2

  Gabe

  Seeing Avery upset—a woman who’s grown to be the top saleswoman at the firm and can stay calm in any situation—tenses every muscle in my body. If someone said something to upset her, I don’t care who they are, they’re out of here. I won’t even let them plead their case.

  Tears stream down her full cheeks. A curtain of chestnut hair frames her soft, round face. Being her boss isn’t easy; I’m continually awestruck by her beauty. Acting on it would be unprofessional, but I won’t pretend that Avery doesn’t cross my mind daily.

  “No,” she finally says. “I’m not okay.”

  I lean in, and the scent of honeysuckle fills my nostrils. “What happened?” My lips curl over my teeth as Avery chokes back another wave of sobs. She opens her mouth to speak, but a series of hiccups are all that come out. When I finally break away from her heartbroken face, a few of my employees are watching us. I’m about to tell them all to get their asses back to work when I remember it’s a party. That and I’m still holding Avery’s arms.

  “Let’s go into my office,” I say. The last thing I want is for her to feel more vulnerable or embarrassed than she already does. Avery nods, and I hold my arm out toward my office. I know she’s upset, and I feel like an asshole for doing it, but I can’t help but watch the sway of her hips as she walks in front of me. I’ve never seen curves like this on a woman before, the cherry on top;
Not only is she smart and stunning, but she’s also stacked like a brick fucking house.

  Once we’re in the office, I motion for her to take a seat on the couch and I grab a tissue from my desk before joining her. She blinks back at me through inky black, wet eyelashes. “Thank you,” she says, still trying to regain her breath.

  “Avery,” I say sitting next to her. “What the hell happened out there?”

  “I feel like an idiot,” she says. “Bugging you like this.”

  “Avery,” I say and resist the urge to rest my hand on her knee. “You’re not bugging me. I’m your boss and if something’s going on, that’s upsetting you I should know about it.” I silently curse myself for allowing booze at this year’s party. I pined over the decision and perhaps I’d made the wrong one. “You know I’m always here for you.”

  Avery nods her head, wiping at her cute button nose. We’ve spent many a late night here in the office finalizing deals, putting paperwork in place, and eating way too much Chinese takeout. I’ve spent quite a bit of time with Avery, but I still feel like I barely know her. And that intrigues me. “Now,” I say. “Tell me who made you cry like this.”

  “No one did, Gabe,” she says, finally catching her breath. She brushes her hair from her sparkling green eyes, keeping them locked on her lap. “I just… you’re going to think I’m stupid.”

  “I doubt that.”

  Finally, her eyes meet mine. “I hate Christmas.”

  For a moment, I don’t know what to say. I fight a relief-filled laugh. “Is that all?” I lean in closer, wondering what those bow-shaped lips of hers would feel like against my own. “I fucking hate Christmas, too.”

  “You do?” She says, sniffing.

  “Uh-huh.” I nod my head. “And the reason sounds awful, but trust me it’s legit.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  I take a deep breath. “I’ve never told anyone this before, but I can’t stand my family.” Avery’s eyes go wide and regret fills my next breath. “I told you it was horrible.”

  “Why?”

  “They have this stupid holiday party and nearly flip their lids when I don’t come home. Not because they want to see me, mind you. It’s more about projecting the appearance of a perfect, happy family.”

  “Your family’s close and you don’t go home for Christmas?” It’s like she only heard part of what I’ve told her.

  “Westchester, about twenty miles outside the city.”

  “And a party? I haven’t been to a Christmas party in a long time.”

  “A horrible party filled with horrible people.”

  “Shame on you.” She says, then slaps her hand over her mouth. “Oh, Gabe, I don’t mean that.”

  “I think maybe you do,” I say, and smile. Avery’s sharp assertiveness keeps her at the top of her game. “If you met them, you’d know. Okay, I fessed up. Now it’s your turn. Why do you hate Christmas?”

  Avery scrapes a hand through her hair, sitting up a little straighter next to me. “Because my family—“

  “See!” I throw my hands up, interrupting.

  “They’re dead.”

  It’s like someone’s punched me in the gut. “Oh Avery, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—“

  “It’s okay,” she says. “Well, it’s not. I miss them horribly. They were on their way to see me on Christmas Eve. The roads were bad, and they crashed.” A series of short breaths fill the room and a fresh stream of tears glisten against her cheeks.

  This time, my hand makes it to her knee. “That’s awful, Avery. I don’t blame you for being upset, and I don’t think you’re stupid.” I touch her chin, gently shifting her face toward mine. “Far from it.” Her eyes flicker down to my hand, fingers still grazing her soft skin. I pull away, realizing this potentially crosses a professional line.

  A short silence stretches between us. Avery’s brave enough to break it. “We had traditions, too.” The hint of a smile plays on her lips. “Cookies, and tree decorating, midnight mass…” Her voice trails off, a distant look on her face. “I miss them so much.”

  “So, what will you do on Christmas?”

  “I thought about coming in and getting some work done, honestly.”

  A tiny whirring in my gut straightens my spine, the sign of an idea. I haven’t been home for Christmas in years, always too busy with work. At least that’s what I say to avoid the constant not-good-enough attitude I receive from my father. But seeing Avery on the couch like this, and the idea of her spending Christmas alone…

  “Come home with me.”

  Avery’s eyes widen at my words, and a tiny laugh escapes her mouth. “Are you serious?”

  “Completely. I will not let you spend the holidays alone.”

  “I don’t need your pity, Gabe. I’ll be fine.”

  “It’s not pity, Avery. My mother’s been on my ass about coming up this year. With you by my side, it’ll be easier.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You said you were going to work.”

  “Right?”

  “So come and work for me. My hired holiday guest.” Avery narrows her eyes, shaking her head. “Actually, Avery, it’s an order. I insist that you work on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. With me. At my parents’ house in Westchester. And I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

  Avery’s eyes sparkle in the low light of my office. “If you say so, Gabe.” The corner of her mouth raises just enough to pass for a smile as she nods her head. “You’re the boss.”

  3

  Avery

  The black car pulls in front of my apartment on Christmas Eve at three o’clock in the afternoon, exactly as Gabe said it would. I could’ve easily taken the train, but he insisted that his driver take me to his parents' house. I pull my coat around my shoulders and smooth down the red party dress I bought this morning. Gabe warned me that his family goes all out, so I figured that I would too. With my coat pulled tight around me, fighting the winter chill, I make my way out to the car where a man takes my overnight bag, holds the door for me, and makes sure I’m situated.

  It takes nearly two hours to get out of the city, traffic’s so bad. My hands wring incessantly in my lap. I fiddle with my phone as my brain races, wondering what kind of situation awaits me at the Everson house. Could they really be that bad? Maybe Gabe’s got it twisted? Or he forgot to mention that they’re the type of folks who ice sugar cookies and watch bad Hallmark movies? A pang of emptiness hollows me thinking of doing those things with my own parents. Dad always made fun of the movies, calling the exact moment the characters are about to kiss but get interrupted by a pet or a child. I can’t help but smile thinking of it, the first time that’s happened in a long time.

  The car pulls off of the main highway and weaves its way through a couple of side roads. When we pull onto a drive marked, “Private,” I know we must be close. Trees line the path, and the closer we get, the brighter the house in the distance becomes. Lit in pristine white lights, the house is one of the biggest I’ve ever seen.

  My fingertips graze my lips, jaw unhinged. This old school mansion looks like it belongs in a Jane Austen novel, not in Westchester. I catch my own reflection in the window and suddenly wonder if this red dress is fancy enough? Maybe I’m making too big a deal of this, but the idea of being out of place never crossed my mind… until now.

  The driver lets me out and my heeled booties click against the cement walkway. Did Gabe grow up here? I knew the man was a self-made billionaire, but clearly he’s no stranger to wealth.

  I’m three steps up the grand staircase when the front door opens. My breath catches in my throat as I look up to see who it is. Cast in shadow, I recognize his voice. He calls over his shoulder to someone I can’t see. “No, Matthew I’ve got it. I’m expecting someone.”

  I’m at the landing when Gabe turns his head toward me. The porch light hits his square jaw, smooth and freshly shaved. He’s wearing gray pants that fit like a glove, a white button-down shirt, and a
sport coat that probably costs more than the entire sum of my earthly possessions. “You made it,” he says with a crooked smile.

  “Sure did.” I can’t think of anything to say, overwhelmed by the beauty of this home and the sheer sexiness oozing out of Gabe. He holds the door for me, ushering me into his home. His captivating scent nearly knocks me off of my feet, spicy and clean. The entry of this house belongs in a magazine. Two cascading staircases line the walls, dressed to the nines in red and gold ribbons and various fresh garland and holly. It’s the house you’d never imagine being able to afford.

  “Holy shit,” I say, then press my lips into a line. “I mean, your house is lovely.”

  “Parents’ house,” Gabe corrects me and reaches for my coat. I turn my back toward him as he slides it off of me. “And I’m so glad you’re here,” he says, his eyes flicking up and down my body.

  “Is the dress too much? Not enough?”

  “Avery,” he says. Our fingers brush as he takes my coat, sending a wave of tingles through me. “You look radiant.” Heat flushes my cheeks. Gabe’s eyes positively sparkle, and I can’t imagine anyone hating Christmas in a home like this.

  “Thank you,” I say. “You’re too kind.”

  He steps toward me and my pussy clenches with him so close to me. He looks down at my cleavage, the most modest I could find in my size, and bites his lower lip. Jesus, I’ve always thought he was hot, but could he possibly feel the same about me?

  “I’m serious, Avery. You look beautiful. And I’m so glad you’re here.” We stare at each other for a moment; the cat’s captured my tongue. The air thickens between us, and I wonder what I’ve gotten myself into. If I’m here because he truly feels sorry for me, needs the backup, or something… else.