Merry Me (Santa's Coming Short Story) Read online

  Merry Me

  A Santa’s Coming Short Story

  Frankie Love

  Contents

  Copyright

  About The Book

  1. Hunter

  2. Holly

  3. Hunter

  4. Holly

  5. Hunter

  Epilogue

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  Also by Frankie Love

  About the Author

  Copyright

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  Edited by Zoe Nightengale

  Cover by Dandelion Cover Designs

  Copyright © 2018 by Frankie Love

  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.

  About The Book

  Merry Me

  I first met Holly when we were sixteen years old.

  She was sugar, I was an effed up version of spice.

  I wasn’t good enough for her — but damn how I wanted her.

  Heartbreaking circumstances pulled us apart and it’s been years since I’ve seen her angelic face.

  But I could never forget her.

  She was my first kiss and I want her to be my last.

  When I come back in town, things have changed — she’s moved on.

  But I have one intention — prove to her I can be the mountain man she needs.

  I’m holding out for more than a Christmas miracle.

  I’m going to get myself a Christmas bride.

  Dear Reader,

  It’s time for Hunter to show Holly his candy cane … wanna lick?

  Xo, frankie

  #LickThis #DownHisChimney #SantasLap

  Santa comes once a year … or does he?

  Join sixteen of your favorite romance author as they make all of your Christmas wishes come true!

  Put out the milk, he’ll take care of your cookie — it’s time to take seat on Santa’s lap.

  Hunter

  I stand, a block away, mesmerized by the woman I’ve missed for so long. I’m transfixed as I watch Holly, where she stands outside, pouring hot cocoa into paper cups, adding a tiny candy cane to each one.

  She’s handing the festive drinks out to children. Snowflakes fall from the sky as she stands near the queue of rosy cheeked kids waiting to sit on Santa’s lap, their last minute wishes ready to be added to his ever growing list.

  Holly’s red hair is braided and wrapped around her head, the candy striped sweater and little green elf-dress she wears is barely able to conceal her curves, and my body craves her in the way it always has. Her heart shaped face is so familiar that my jaw tightens, remembering our last goodbye.

  Tears stained her cheeks then; burying her father was a horrible way to end high school. Now, five years later, she wears a smile, bright as the snow capped peaks behind her. The mountain town of Mistletoe is brimming with holiday activity — Christmas is only a few days away.

  But I keep moving through the crowds of shoppers who clutch their bags filled with last minute gifts. I don’t want to stop at any stores to window shop. I already know what I want.

  Who I want.

  Holly Saint Claire.

  It’s always been her. But until recently I was in no place to come back and take her as my own.

  I planned on waiting until after the holidays — until I’m sure I’ll be settling down in Mistletoe — but that was before I was standing down the street from her.

  Now my plan must change.

  I can’t wait to tell her I’m back. I need her, now.

  I move toward her, thinking of all the things that we left unsaid. I run a hand over my beard. I’ve changed; grown up. And she has too.

  Getting in line behind the kids, I wait my turn. When I finally step up to her, she gasps.

  As she looks into my eyes, a hundred memories rush over me.

  They rush over her too. She falters, setting down the cup of hot chocolate, and shaking her head. “Hunter? Is that really you?”

  I nod, overwhelmed with the need to wrap her in my arms. I’ve been dreaming of this for so damn long.

  “Have I really changed that much?” I ask, trying my best to smile, when deep down I want to growl, whisper in her ear. Tell her I will never leave again.

  “The beard, the flannel, the…” She reaches for my arm, squeezing it. “You look so much…”

  “More put together?”

  “I was going to say stronger.”

  “That too.”

  “Why are you here? I mean … it’s been five years.”

  “A long time.”

  She nods, stepping away from the table. “Really long.”

  “I had things to do before I could come back.”

  “You never even called. You never wrote. I’ve worried. And I’ve missed you, Hunter. You just disappeared. Ghosted everyone … ghosted me.”

  I knew coming here today would be hard, but as she walks toward the Christmas tree in the center of town — it’s huge and decorated with tinsel and lights — I’m reminded of just how shitty it was to leave like that.

  But she left too.

  “I know, but you had plans for your life, Holly. I didn’t fit in with them.” Truth is, I’m dying to know if I fit into them now. Just how much has she moved on?

  “It’s good to see your face again,” she says softly. “Sometimes I wondered if those years were a dream.”

  I smirk. “You mean a nightmare?”

  She smiles gently, and I want to touch her skin, breathe her in. “They weren’t all bad.”

  “No,” I say, thinking of the way her lips brushed against mine. “They weren’t.”

  For a moment we stand in silence, staring at one another. I wish I could crawl inside her mind and understand exactly what she’s thinking.

  Then, the spell is broken as a group of people call out to her. “Holly, we thought you were volunteering all afternoon?”

  “I had a visitor,” she says as they approach. Turning back to me she asks, “Do you remember my friends? Sarah and Lila?”

  I nod. “How could I not remember?” Those girls were sweethearts just like Holly. They were always were nice to me, but they always kept their guards up. With good reason.

  “Wow, long time no see, stranger,” Lila says. “I haven't seen you since graduation.”

  I nod. “Yeah, just got back in town.”

  The girls exchange looks and I know they are having a silent conversation. About me.

  “Well, good to see you,” Lila says. “Tillie and I were just grabbing a box of cookies to take to the dance tonight.”

  “They still hold the week before Christmas dance?” I ask.

  “Mistletoe is built on tradition!” Lila says with a laugh. “Are you coming?”

  I run a hand over my beard. “Not sure what tonight is going to look like, exactly,” I say.

  “Well, Holly will be there with Truman, so, it should be a real fun time,” Sarah says with a snort.

  I look at Holly who is elbowing her friend. “Don’t be like that.”

  “Be like what?” Sarah says playfully. “Everyone knows a preacher is just the most fun guy to have around on Saturday night.”

  “Did someone say fun guy?” asks a clean shaven man who joins the group.

  “Hey, Truman,” Lila says. “We were just talking about the dance tonight. You ready to g
o shot for shot?”

  “Stop it,” Holly says, shaking her head at her friends, silently urging them to cut out their inside jokes.

  I just want to know who this guy is; the guy who is reaching for Holly’s hand.

  Before he can take it, I reach out my own, to shake his. I don’t want to see another man’s fingers laced with hers.

  She’s mine.

  “I’m Hunter Blake,” I tell him gruffly, shaking his hand. It’s clammy. And weak.

  “I’m Truman Prestley. Pleasure.” He gives me a smug smile. “And how do you know these lovely gals?”

  I swallow hard at his word, ‘gals’. Who the fuck talks like that?

  “Holly and I used to live together,” I tell him, wanting my words to sting.

  Truman purses his lips together, then his eyes widen as it dawns on him. “You are the Hunter.” Truman gives me a fake smile. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

  “And I haven’t heard a thing about you,” I say, knowing I’m not acting like the bigger person. I just have a need to get under this guys skin.

  “Well, for starters, I’m Holly’s boyfriend. We’ve been together almost six months.”

  I look at Holly for confirmation of this and her eyes have dropped, her cheeks red.

  Running a hand over my beard, I give him shrug. “Lucky man. Holly is one of a kind.”

  “She certainly is,” Truman says, turning to the girl I’ll be taking home later. “Speaking of, Holly, should I pick you up at eight for the dance?”

  She nods. “That would be great, Truman, thanks.”

  He gives her a hug, but it’s either awkward because Sarah, Lila, and I are all staring at them or it’s awkward because these two have zero chemistry.

  I’m choosing to believe the latter.

  Holly

  Truman walks away and I turn back to my friends and Hunter.

  Hunter. The bad boy from the other side of the tracks. The one who held my heart and broke it. The one who didn’t keep his promises but whose kisses I can’t seem to get out of my mind.

  He is here.

  Sarah and Lila understand the weight of this. I moved back in town a few months ago but they know the long history this mountain holds for me.

  I was the daughter of the town preacher, and now, Truman works at the same church as a new pastor in training, having just completed seminary. Which is where we met … and where I pretended to fall in love.

  Moving here made sense. I was done with my degree, and Truman was moving to my hometown and so … here we are. And so is Hunter.

  “I think we’re just gonna pop over to the bakery for those cookies,” Sarah says. “But we’ll see you at the dance, right Hunter?”

  He nods gruffly and they walk away, heads close together, already discussing all the implications of Hunter returning to town.

  “You’re volunteering?” he asks, jutting his chin out toward the line of kids eagerly awaiting a photo with Santa,

  “I’m the new hospitality chair for Mistletoe. ”

  “They teach that at bible college?” he asks.

  “Sure,” I say twisting my lips. “Do unto others, that sort of thing.”

  “Suits you,” he says, his hand moving to my shoulder, his thumb brushing against my cheek. It’s hard to breathe with him so close. With him here, next to me. His touch, even through all these layers is like a jolt of heat. Electricity.

  “I should get back. I have a few more hours for the shift.”

  “Of course.” Hunter steps back, his hands now shoved in his coat pockets.

  “Will you be in town long?” I ask, knowing there is a hopeful tone to my voice. I don’t try to stop it. I want it to be heard.

  “I hope so, Holly Saint Claire.”

  “I hope so too.”

  At that, Hunter walks away, and I return to the line of eager children. But my eyes follow Hunter as he weaves through the crowds of shoppers. My eyes follow Hunter’s, knowing my heart has never once looked away.

  “That was a lot of fun,” I tell Todd as he pulls off his white wig and beard. He’s normally the cocky bar owner in town, but with the beard and Santa suit he comes off as a jovial St. Nick.

  “The kids are cute. Not that I want any of my own, anytime soon — but they were pretty adorable.”

  “They loved your hot cocoa mix,” I tell him as we put our costumes in the Mistletoe Community room closet. “Though I don’t understand why you don’t want Mistletoe to list you as a sponsor.”

  “Eh.” He shrugs. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

  “Maybe you just need to meet a nice girl,” I tell him as I zip up my coat. “Settle down, have a family. You play so hard.”

  He smirks. “Is that what you plan on doing with Truman?”

  I swallow, averting my gaze.

  Todd laughs. “That’s what I thought. You talk a big talk, but then I saw the way you got all flustered with that new guy in town today —”

  “He’s not new in town. He’s from Mistletoe.”

  “Oh yeah?” Todd and I step out into the frosty air. “So the two of you have a past?”

  Snowflakes fall and the Christmas lines that criss-cross Main Street are lit. The town looks like a magical wonderland.

  “It’s complicated,” I tell him. “He was my foster brother … and … well … we just have history.”

  Todd smiles, and I know he is holding something back.

  “Just say it,” I groan.

  “Look, I’ve known you a few months, Holly. And in that time I’ve never once seen you blush in the presence of Truman. But you walked back to the queue of kids today all hot and bothered. You like that guy. Admit it.”

  I pull on my mittens, wanting to tell Todd he’s a liar. But he isn’t and he knows it.

  “Look,” Todd says, softening his stance. “You’re a sweetheart. But even girls deserve to make Santa’s naughty list every once in a while.”

  I scoff. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Todd lifts his brows, pulling down his black beanie. “It means sometimes you have to follow your heart. And your heart isn’t always sugar. Sometimes it’s spice.”

  I laugh. “You are arrogant. The newest bachelor in town giving out relationship advice. It’s pretty bold.”

  “Call it what you want, Holly. I just think if you really loved Truman you’d be a Christmas bride. What are you waiting for?”

  “I’m waiting for…” I bite my bottom lip. Truman is ready for marriage. He’s proposed. Twice.

  I tell him I’m not ready. That we should date longer first. That we just moved to a new town.

  But they’re all excuses.

  “Hey,” Todd says, squeezing my shoulder. “I’m just giving you a hard time because a girl like you should get her Christmas wish.”

  I blink back my emotions, surprised that I’m getting all vulnerable with a guy like Todd. Truth is, he’s hit he nail on the head, said the thing my friends are too timid to put words too.

  What exactly am I doing with Truman Prestley?

  “I’ll see you at the dance,” I tell Todd.

  “Sorry if I got a little preachy.”

  I smile easily. “Hey, I grew up as the preacher’s daughter, I can handle it.”

  We part ways and I head through town toward my father’s — I mean my house. On the way there I pass the cemetery and I pause when I see Hunter kneeling in the snow.

  I watch him, wondering if he’s still the Hunter I fell hard for all those years go. The man has doubled in size — his shoulders so broad, his stature so demanding—but part of me can feel our connection just like always. His dark grey eyes so brooding and mysterious. Storm clouds that never seem to break.

  I step toward him in the graveyard, not wanting to interrupt, but also, unable to help myself.

  It’s Hunter. My Hunter.

  He doesn’t have any social media, has zero footprints on the Internet. He vanished without a trace.

  Now he’s back.

&
nbsp; Kneeling before his mother’s grave and my heart aches, thinking of my own father who is also buried here.

  Both of us orphans.

  My foot snaps a twig and he looks up, surprised, but then he sees it’s me and the surprise is gone. It’s like he was expecting me. He stands, dusting the snow from his dark denim jeans.

  “You brought her roses,” I say, eying the bouquet he has placed at her headstone. “Her favorite.”

  “You remembered.”

  “I remember everything,” I tell him. “It’s you who forgot. Forgot me.” I know there is bitterness to my words but I can’t not say them, speak the truth.

  “I had to go. I was trying to do right by you. By your father.”

  “What does my father have to do with any of this?” I ask.

  Hunter frowns. “He has to do with everything.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He died, things changed. You had to leave for college and so I had to go too. I was trying to protect you.”

  “How? By leaving me alone in my grief, for disappearing when I needed you the most?”

  “Your father wanted me gone. I figured the least I could do was grant him his dying wish.”

  “My dad wasn’t right about everything.”

  “He was right about me though. I wasn’t good enough for you.”

  “Why did you come back?” I ask him, wishing he would pull me into his arms and never let me go. Todd was right. “I mean, really? Why did you come home?”

  He looks at me and I know my answer.

  “For you, Holly Saint Claire. Your father was wrong. It’s always been you.”

  Hunter

  I wanted to have all my shit in order, be ready to take care of her for real — be in a place to offer her more than she’s ever had.