Chapter Two
Niko
Holidays—any holiday at all—are the best time of the year.
Whether it is a birthday party with creepy clowns because my nephew loves them or a huge table of food surrounded by people I love giving thanks, I am all about it. I host parties, I plan it all from start to finish. I never let an anniversary, or a graduation pass without celebrating whoever or whatever deserves celebration.
Christmas has always had a special place in my heart. Growing up, it was a special day full of memories my parents worked hard to make special. Cookies for Santa, full stockings, special ornaments we made together to hang on the tree, it was always a big deal at the Hughes house.
From a young age, I strived to make the best memories with each celebration. Each holiday. Heck, I even go all out for my friends who observe Diwali and Hanukkah. Whatever gives me a reason to cook some food, make some drinks, and laugh with people I care about.
Before the traditional holiday tree lighting, I am taking my two favorite elves—my niece and nephew—to grab a gift for my sister. Because she was born on Thanksgiving, her day often blends into the other holidays. I never let it though, and I want to be sure her kids celebrate her the same way.
“Can we get you flowers too?” My niece, Ava, wonders.
“No, Tink,” I tell her, tugging at her tiny ponytail. “This is just for Sissa. For her birthday, because we never want to forget her special day.”
“Flowers,” her little brother, Evan points at the store front. “For mama. Flowers for girls,” he follows up thoughtfully. I won't correct him that guys deserve flowers sometimes too.
“Flowers for everyone,” Ava beats me to it, laughing at him.
They bicker for less than a minute before they're laughing at the carolers passing by. Turning to watch them, we hesitate for a moment. Their voices carry over the shoppers filling Main Street. I smile as the kids tip their heads back, tongues out, as the snow falls heavier.
“Come on, lost boys, let's get those flowers.”
Stepping inside the little shop on the corner, I breathe the sweet air in. It smells of roses and fir wreaths, it is warm the way a greenhouse is. Earthy. Fresh with life. I lead the kids towards the front before I stop in my tracks.
Standing behind the counter staring up at me is the sweetest, prettiest angel I have ever seen. Purple tinted hair is piled on top of her head, a bright pink wrap on holding it back from her face. Some pieces fall loose, framing her face like the soft petals of a flower. Bright, ocean blue eyes focus on me as I stare at her in awe.
With full, pink lips, and dark brows over those pretty eyes, she is a vision of perfection. I note the slight dusting of freckles over her tiny nose, where I see a gold hoop glinting on one side. Oh, cute, edgy a little. I take a step towards her, wanting her name, to hear her voice. Two hands yank at my own, reminding me I am not here to sweep this woman off her feet.
“Evening, ma’am,” I stutter as my gaze eats her up. ““We’re here to get a gift for their mother. Thanksgiving is also her birthday. It gets forgotten with all the holiday festivities. I want to be sure we celebrate her.”
Something dims in her bright blue eyes, making my heart seize up. Oh man. No, no way. Glancing down at Ava and Evan, I sigh. Yeah, they could pass as my kids. People often mistake me for their father. I never mind.
I've been their favorite uncle—also their only uncle—since they were born because I adore them. I love them. I would do anything for them. I am very close with my sister Sutton and help as often as I can. One day I will give them cousins to play with, to look after the way I look after them.
Once I find the woman I want to celebrate every single holiday with.
Shaken from my thoughts of a future I cannot wait for, I focus on the task at hand. Getting my sister a birthday gift. Blinking down at the beautiful woman who has entirely thrown me off, I follow her through the aisle to a large display. It is the one thing in the store that speaks to the holiday season.
It is beautiful and perfect. Ava and Evan agree, eyes going big as they take in the big, beautiful bouquet. It is just what my sister would want. I am so pleased, I consider the task completed. Now, I can think about perhaps trying to sweep this pretty, talented woman off her feet after all.
“Let me get that, honey,” I offer, moving close to her as if I cannot stay back a moment longer. “It’s so beautiful.”
Those words were meant for her as well. I almost drop the big bouquet when her soft little body presses against mine. It feels as if a bolt of lightning rockets through me. I cannot catch my breath. I clutch the big vase to me as she turns to stare up at me.
Jesus, she’s so beautiful. We’re so close now I can see flecks of yellow in her light blue eyes. Like cornflowers. She smells not like flowers or even the dirt she must spend her days working in. No, she smells of...linen and warmth, and I move even closer, drawn to her that much more. My hands flex at her hips and I almost want to grab her to haul her close. Before I can, her eyes flash as the tiny creatures beside me murmur about holiday lights.
“Thank you,” her response reminds me I had spoken to praise her work.” I do not do Christmas usually but...this was in my head.”
Staring down at her, I almost frown. Does not do Christmas? Well, I think I might have to do something about that. Who does not do a holiday as important, as special, as Christmas ? Well, besides other faiths of course. The spirit of this season, which for me begins tonight with the tree lighting, goes through the weekend with Thanksgiving, and all the way to the new year, should be celebrated to its fullest.
Lost in thought about this, I miss that she has headed to the counter. Ushering the kids after her, I clutch the bouquet. I am not proud of it, but my gaze drops to her heart-shaped ass as she walks, unable to look away from the side-to-side sway.
I am hit with a visceral image of my hands grasping that ass, her bent over in front of me as I ride her from behind. My hands shake as heat floods me from the very thought. Jesus. I’ve never been hit so hard with such need in my life. Reaching the counter, I wait for her to turn back to me, needing to see if she is affected, if she is feeling anything at all.
Her light eyes flicker away from mine, as if afraid to give too much away. Good. That’s a good sign. It is not just me having this...sensation. Feeling a connection ping between the two of us. We tease each other about siblings once I am sure to make it clear this gift is for my sister, these adorable littles are hers, and in fact, I am very interested in finding out more about her siblings or anything else she will share with me.
“Well, you know, once we wrap this gift up, I am taking my niece and nephew out to watch the tree lighting,” I hold my breath as her fingers brush mine as I pass her the bouquet. Deep breath. In. Out. Pushing forward, I ask what I can’t help but ask. “Then it is all the pumpkin pie we can shove in our faces. Want to tell me about it all over pie and Christmas lights?”
“Oh....” It is not a word that passes from her pretty pink lips. Just a sound. A startled one at that.
Those bright eyes of hers go big before her face flushes, her chin tucking to her chest. A shake of her head, a refusal, makes my heart crack a little. I am panicked. Worried I said or did something wrong. Wondering how I can fix it. How can I make her want to see me again, how can I make her want to tell me everything there is to know about her?
How can I make her want to celebrate the holidays with me?
Before I figure out a single thing, our transaction is over. Not just that, she is all but kicking us out of the store. I said something wrong. I can see it in the sad darkness of her pretty eyes. I do not want to go. I cannot explain it, but I hate the idea of leaving her here by herself to be upset. I stutter an apology before we get to the door. It sounds hollow, strange. I can’t go yet.
“Hey, honey,” I lower my voice as I reach out, brushing some wild curls back from her brow. I want to touch her. I’ve never felt this sort of thing before, so I am clueless about right or wrong. “Is there something…is everything ok?”
My touch lingers on her face, my gloved index finger tracing her jaw. Her heart rate quickens. I note it in the thrum of her pulse at her throat. A desire to drag my lips over the silky skin there hits me. I swallow hard, stepping back because what the hell is going on with me?
Outside, I hear carolers again. It is as if they’ve intruded on the moment between us. Softness fades from her eyes as she tilts her chin up. I fight back a smile because it just makes her even cuter. Still, she wants to be stubborn and strong, so I let her be whatever she wants.
“Yes. I am fine. Please go. Have a good evening,” her tone softens as I step back, putting some safe distance between us.
I still do not want to go. I want to convince her to lock up the pretty little flower shop to come with us. I would love to see her under the shining lights of the huge holiday tree they will light with twinkling lights tonight. Again, I am hit with a vision of her, naked beneath a similar tree, her skin glowing as I cradle her close, our bodies entwined as much as the rest of us is.
What is this sweet, sad woman doing to me?
“Come on, Niko! I want to see Santa!
Blinking from my filthy thoughts of taking the pretty flower girl any way she will let me, I shake my head. This is not the time or place. Doesn’t stop my head from flooding with endless thoughts of her. Naked in a bed of rose petals, my head between her thighs as she cries out my name. Tangled up in sheets and twinkling Christmas lights as she takes me in her mouth.
“Knock it off, you sad, sick man,” I tell myself, glancing back at the shop. I hesitate because for a moment, I swear I see her watching us.
Shaking myself, I set those thoughts, those desires, aside for now. I take the tiny hands of my niece and nephew leaving the store behind me. At least for now—for tonight. I stop long enough to load the big bouquet in the back of my truck. We make our way to the park just in time to join the festivities.
Between glasses of sweet hot chocolate, visits with Santa, and even a bit of singing with the group of carolers, I still cannot shake the flower girl. I have never had a real relationship with a woman. My parents were amazing and so in love it was sometimes almost saccharine sweet to watch them. It taught me to have high standards for the people I care about. For the people I make time for and make an effort with.
I am almost thirty, and sure I’ve dated here or there, but no one has ever stuck. No one has ever been worth it. Sutton was married right out of high school to my best friend Edward. When he died two years ago, we were both devastated and all my focus shifted to her and their kids. Having someone to call mine or to come home to was just not a priority.
“It is so beautiful no matter what else is going on,” Sutton murmurs beside me as she hoists Ava up on her hip. We got here just in time to meet up with her after the diner closed. I smile down at my sister, nodding as we stare up at the big tree the entire town turned out to see.
Besides one sad, sweet flower shop girl.
“It is. We’ve got a surprise for you,” I admit with a grin between Ava and Evan.
“Do you? You always have loved celebrating anything you can.”
“Yes, I do,” I tell her, hooking an arm over her shoulder as we start to head from the park, walking the short distance to their little house. Dropping them off, I promise the kids to bring our surprise tomorrow, Thanksgiving. “We always have to celebrate the things that count. Love you guys. See you tomorrow for all the turkey and pumpkin pie we can stand!”
Both the kids laugh as I shout the words as I walk back off her front porch. Sutton laughs too, shaking her head at how much of a nerd I am without shame. Laughing, I turn to head back towards the park so I can call it a night. Climbing behind the wheel, I catch sight of the flower arrangement behind me. It makes my heart thump—not because I am proud to be doing something for my little sister, but because of the woman who put it together.
Something that beautiful, with so much spirit, so much joy in it, proves one thing. That sad shop girl might hate the holidays—but once upon a time she did not. What I said before to my sister is true. We should celebrate all the things that count. I love to celebrate others, to bring joy or happiness.
This Christmas will be complete if I can get my sad shop girl to celebrate along with us.