My Favorite Holidate: A Standalone Holiday Romance

Fable

“Seven-layer bars?”

From behind her black-and-white glasses, Josie’s big blue eyes pop as she gawks at the tray that I bring my friends that afternoon. Wilder made them with Mac a little while ago since he owed them to me. But he also said it took his mind off his dad, and I was glad he had a distraction.

“Your man actually made seven-layer bars?” Josie asks again, even though the evidence is right here in the living room that connects our cabins.

Maeve darts out a grabby hand. “Who cares if he actually made them? I want one. They look delicious.” She promptly stuffs it in her face and rolls her eyes in pleasure. “Oh my god, the man can bake. Wait. Can he fuck too?”

Sparks shimmy down my body. But I glance around, making sure nobody is nearby. I nod a big, exaggerated yes. “It’s like a whole new land of fucking with him. Last night, he tied me up with a red satin bow so that I looked like a Christmas present.”

Maeve’s hazel eyes flicker. “That’s a very specific kink, and I am here for it.”

“And I was there for it too,” I say. “He’s kind of like a borderline pleasure Dom. He’s a little obsessed with giving me multiple orgasms.”

“I’m still not hearing the problem,” Josie deadpans as she walks me farther into the living room.

“He can bake, he’s a good dad, and he fucks like a god,” Everly says, counting off on her fingers. “Did I get that right, Fable?”

Tingles rush over my skin because actually, that’s not all the man can do. “Oh, there’s more. He’s a great listener. He’s thoughtful. He’s smart. He can change a battery in a smoke detector. And he spoils me rotten. I mean, he booked us that private class and the dinner and the hotel room, and he treated my sister and me to a Christmas shopping spree, and he booked us all that private suite at the football game.”

Everly grabs a bar from the coffee table where I’ve placed the tray and breaks off a corner, popping it in her mouth, then moans like a cooking show star. “Do not let go of him when the holidays are over.”

That’s not really an option though. I sigh. “We already agreed to an end date. It was always going to have one.”

Josie pats the couch in front of the Christmas tree. “Sit,” she orders and I comply. She gives me the Very Serious Look. “Can we discuss the elephant in the room?”

“I thought we were discussing the elephant in the room,” I say, glancing at the tray of baked goods. “That the billionaire could actually bake? Incidentally, he baked those as punishment for squeezing my ass. It’s a game we play,” I say, and I’m giddy as I tell them about our list. “It was his idea to keep us on the up and up with this romance. If we do anything that’s over the top and might make it obvious it’s fake, we have this naughty and nice list we reference. And we get and give punishments, but fun punishments like cookies and massages.”

Maeve blinks several times. “Ma’am, excuse me. We need all the details. We should all do this list. But first I have to know—did you purposely do something over the top so that he would bake for you?”

“No, he did something over the top,” I explain.

“He squeezed your ass and you got cookies? It sounds like a win-win for you,” Maeve adds, then crosses her legs with a certain panache.

Josie clears her throat to get our attention again. “Which only bolsters my point. The real elephant in the room is that this romance doesn’t look fake.”

The room turns silent. All eyes look my way. The weight of that statement hangs in the afternoon air.

I flash back on last night, and the things he said in bed. The way I felt then, but also at the caroling competition. Payback was the farthest thing on my mind. Then I picture this morning with him on the deck. He was so frustrated, so hurt by his father, and he obviously felt so helpless. Wilder was entirely stubborn—but then, he let me in. He accepted my support and my comfort, and it was a joy to be able to give him that. I hope he hears from his father soon.

I twist my fingers together and acknowledge Josie’s elephant. “It doesn’t feel fake anymore either,” I admit. That’s the first time I’ve voiced it out loud. “And I don’t know what to do about it.”

Maeve seems to give my dilemma some thought before she says, “You have feelings for him. Big, mushy real ones that make you feel like anything is possible?”

Me? I don’t like opening up. It makes me feel like my mother when I was growing up, as she opened the door for my father again and again. It makes me feel like someone could walk out and then return and do it one more time. Still, these big, frothy feelings for Wilder are getting harder to ignore. “I do. But we work together. I don’t know what it would be like when we return to the office in the new year.”

“You already cleared it with HR,” Everly points out. “That’s a big hurdle you don’t have to worry about. The whole office believes you’re together, so you’re off to a great start.” She flicks some errant blonde strands of hair off her cheek, then adds, “And I work with Max and it’s a lot of fun.”

But before it became fun, she faced a host of challenges with her very forbidden workplace romance. That’s what happens when you fall for the goalie on the hockey team while you’ve been assigned to fix his bad reputation.

“Yes, and that’s good. And I’m so glad you and Max figured everything out. But what if we tried something for real and it all went wrong?” I ask, picturing how uncomfortable it’d be seeing him at the office. It’s one thing to return to the office after the holidays with our scripted breakup—it’s entirely another to try a real romance and then have to endure a real breakup. “He’s still the boss. I’d still have to see him.”

“But why can’t it last?” Everly challenges me.

I sweep out my arms and gesture to the lovely tree in the corner of the room, decorated with red bows and silver garlands and snow globes, to the windows showing off snow-capped peaks in the distance, to the tray in front of us, loaded with sugary treats. “Because this isn’t real. Right now is the honeymoon phase. It’s Christmastime. Everything is wonderful. Wilder and I are throwing snowballs and singing, and we have a Christmas-tree-decorating competition in a few hours, and I’m eating seven-layer bars with my best friends, and last night I was tied up with red satin, and I don’t give a fuck about Brady anymore. But I’m not a fool. I know what this is—I’m playing pretend with my boss.” My throat catches, and I take a moment before I fight off a frown and add, “What happens when it’s real life?”

That’s what worries me. Even if this fake romance is starting to feel real, even if I couldn’t give a flying figgy pudding about my ex, what happens when Wilder and I take this romance out of Evergreen Falls? What happens when there is no more Christmas magic?

“Also, I don’t think he wants it to work out,” I add, thinking back to our conversation early yesterday morning. It’s not that I don’t want it. It’s that I don’t know if I can trust. I don’t want to break his private confidences, so I won’t share what he said or why he said it. But carefully, I add, “He has some trust issues.”

Everly scoffs. “So did Max.”

That’s true. Her guy had some hurdles to get over and she did too. “Yes, and I’m so glad he worked through them. But not everyone can. Or wants to,” I say, swallowing roughly, already sad over a future real breakup.

The room is quiet for a long beat. Then Josie meets my eyes and asks gently, “Fable, the only question that matters is…do you want it to work out?”

I’ve been mulling that over a lot more lately. “Part of me does. But that seems foolish. Eventually you have to throw out the Christmas tree, and it dies on the side of the road.”

The sound of the cabin door opening catches my attention, and from the other room I can just make out the sounds of laughter.

Maeve shrugs happily as she reaches for another seven-layer bar, “If you get a fake tree you don’t have to throw it out. They last.”

I chew on that point, and my seven-layer bar as Max and Wesley stride into the living room, arguing over whose sledding skills are more elite.

“Did you two have your own impromptu sledding competition?” Everly asks, with an amused grin as she looks at Max.

The big, bearded goalie shoots her a look. “Have you met me? Of course we did,” he says, sinking down next to her on the couch and tugging her onto his lap. “And of course I won.”

Wesley rolls his eyes as he drops into a chair, snuggling close with Josie. “Max, you seem to have a misunderstanding of what the finish line is. It was the thing I crossed first,” he says then reaches for a seven-layer bar and takes a bite. “Damn, these are good.”

“Do you two want to have a bake-off?” Josie suggests. “If you want to flex those competition skills in the kitchen, I think we’d all be grateful.”

Max lifts a finger. “I’m in.”

“Me too,” Wesley says, and soon the conversation shifts from my fake romance to their real lives.

As I watch the two couples, I think about the ways they’ve let each other in, the changes people make for each other, the ways we bend and grow, and the things we’re willing to do to get out of our comfort zones when we fall in love.

But is that what’s happening to me? And if it is, would Wilder be willing to meet me on the other side of Christmas?