The Holiday Claus

Prologue

A nother glance at my watch confirms I’m an hour late.

This is just great.

Andrew’s going to give me hell for being late to his engagement party, especially after he made it a point to remind me to be on time when we spoke on the phone earlier.

I take the last set of stairs two at a time, yanking my tie loose as I step out onto the rooftop terrace. The evening is cool for late August, and the air is filled with the soft chime of ice clinking in glasses and the chatter of mingling guests.

There’s got to be at least a hundred people here. I’m tempted to leave since I’m not in the mood to socialize. Then again, I never am. I’d rather be at my office going through production schedules or at home sifting through the latest scripts my producers sent over.

I’m looking for the bar when Andrew shouts my name from across the terrace. He excuses himself from his conversation and heads my way, cutting off any chance of getting out of this.

“You’re late,” he remarks when he reaches me.

I shrug. “I had a work emergency.”

Clara Victor, one of the A-list actresses at my studio, threw a fit over the director’s script changes and threatened to walk if I didn’t personally go to the film set to smooth things over. One setback of being the CEO of a movie studio means playing therapist, negotiator, and problem solver—even for actors who throw tantrums. Clara figured she had me wrapped around her finger—spoiler alert, she doesn’t. Instead, I gave her an ultimatum: accept the director’s revisions or be replaced. We’re still in the early stages of production for the action film she’s starring in, so we can look into recasting if necessary.

I don’t have time for bullshit, certainly not from entitled celebrities who forget that everyone is replaceable. There’s a reason why I avoid hooking up with talent under contract with SkyBound Studios or anyone in showbiz, for that matter. Managing their egos is a full-time job, without adding personal drama to the mix.

Andrew scoffs, folding his arms across his chest. “Oh, yeah? Well, my phone has gone off no less than fifteen times since the party started, but I promised Hannah I wouldn’t work tonight.”

I rub a hand over my face. Just the idea of ignoring a work call makes me anxious. “Want me to check if you have any urgent messages?” I offer.

“Nah.” He dismisses me with a wave. “It’s most likely a client wanting an update on an offer for their second mansion. It can wait. Hannah comes first, always.”

I nod, pretending to understand. I’ll never get how he can put business on the back burner so easily, particularly when dealing with high-profile clients. Still, despite his casual approach, Andrew is the most in-demand realtor for celebrities and wealthy individuals in Southern California.

We’ve been best friends since we were kids. He grew up in Starlight Pines, Vermont. My family spent every summer and Christmas there with our grandma, Kay, who owns Whispering Pines, the town’s only inn.

Andrew and I both moved to California after we graduated high school and shared an apartment while I interned at a small production studio, and he worked at a coffee shop until he got his real estate license. Fifteen years later, we’ve both carved out successful careers—Andrew with his own real estate firm, and me as the owner and CEO of SkyBound Studios, the fastest-growing production company in the country.

He met his fiancée, Hannah, soon after moving here. Still, it took years for them to admit their feelings and even longer for him to propose. He’s explained that’s why she always comes first—he knows what life is like without her and refuses to take a single moment for granted.

As for me, I’m good with my life as it is—single, successful, and leaving the romance to the big screen.

Hannah joins us with a cheerful smile, her brown eyes sparkling with excitement. Andrew pulls her close and kisses her on the forehead.

“I’m so glad you made it, Brooks,” she exclaims. “You showed up just in time to rescue me from a mind-numbing debate about the difference between glacier water and spring water. I thought I might actually fall asleep standing up.” She sighs dramatically.

“Sounds goddamn awful,” I grunt.

“Oh, it was,” she confirms. “I’d rather listen to nails on a chalkboard than another group of Hollywood elites go on about how they can’t live without their overpriced bottled water.”

I nod in agreement. When I came to California, my focus was squarely on success, and I kept to myself. The higher a person climbs up the social ladder, the more insufferable the people around them become. Which is why Andrew and Hannah are practically the only ones I can tolerate being around.

“That’s what I get for opening a yoga studio in downtown LA.” Hannah sighs. “On the bright side, business is booming. Our waitlist is a mile long. It seems like everyone is looking for an alternative workout and a reprieve from the hustle and bustle of their hectic schedules.” Andrew lightly nudges her, nodding toward me. “Sorry, Brooks, I didn’t mean to talk your ear off.”

“It’s all good,” I say with a tight smile. “I’m sure you have plenty of other guests to mingle with. I’ll grab a drink and probably head out.”

“You can’t leave yet. You just got here.” She offers me a piece of cardstock and a black pen, holding them out until I finally give in and take them.

“What’s this for?” I ask skeptically.

“We’re playing Bingo.”

I shake my head and attempt to give the paper and pen back to her. “I’d rather not.”

She raises a brow. “Too bad. Like you said, it’s my engagement party, and as Andrew’s best friend and future best man, you’re obliged to participate,” she says with a smirk.

I glance over at Andrew for backup, but he raises his hands in surrender. “Don’t look at me,” he says. “Hannah’s the one running the show. What she says goes.”

“Besides, it’s not traditional Bingo. It’s way more entertaining. Where’s your sense of adventure?” Hannah nudges me playfully. “It won’t hurt you to join in on the fun for once. Besides, Lila worked hard on planning this party and she would be devastated if she found out you didn’t want to participate in the games she put together.”

I turn to Andrew. “Lila…as in your sister, Lila?”

He nods. “Yeah. Usually, Hannah and I go back to Starlight Pines to see her and my parents, but I convinced her to come visit us for once. She offered to organize our engagement party while she was here.”

Lila is eight years younger than Andrew and me. Most of my memories of her are of a kid with oversized glasses and an eager smile who wanted to be included in everything Andrew and I did. The last time I saw her was over a decade ago, at a Christmas party at Whispering Pines Inn. She had braces and wore a red jumpsuit that made her stand out, even though it seemed like she was trying to blend in. I recall her shadowing my grandma, wanting to learn the ins and outs of running the inn. Now, Grandma tells me, Lila is the events planner there.

Andrew glances around the terrace. “Lila should be around here somewhere. I was hoping to give you two a chance to catch up.”

“Last time I saw her, she was helping pass out the Bingo cards,” Hannah chimes in, gesturing to the stack of them in her hands.

“Don’t worry about it. Sounds like she’s busy,” I say.

Knowing Andrew, he’ll rope me into playing chaperone for the night if I let him, and after the day I’ve had, the last thing I want is to be stuck trying to make small talk with someone I haven’t seen in ages. Thankfully, before he can press me, a couple comes up to greet my newly engaged friends. I take it as my opportunity to step away, nodding to Andrew before heading in the opposite direction.

Usually, I steer clear of parties, preferring the solitude of my office or a quiet night at my penthouse apartment savoring a rare moment of peace. The only place I’ve ever felt a true sense of ease was Starlight Pines, but after my dad passed it was never the same. However, there was no getting out of this one, especially not since Andrew asked me to be his best man.

I wander along the perimeter of the rooftop in an effort to avoid conversation with the other guests. The place has been transformed into a tropical paradise, like one of my movie sets. Twinkling lights are wrapped around miniature palm trees, bamboo furniture is strategically placed to give those in attendance a place to relax. There’s a tiki bar in the corner, and servers weave through the crowd, offering the guests pi?a coladas and passionfruit mojitos served in coconuts.

I notice a photo booth to my right, illuminated by a neon sign that reads Love, Laughter, and Happily Ever After . There’s a giant basket of props on a nearby table, along with a corkboard filled with snapshots taken by the other guests.

When I look over to see Andrew and Hannah immersed in conversation with another couple, I relax my shoulders . If Hannah caught me standing here alone, she’d drag me into a photo op—props included.

I’m prepared to move on when I spot a manicured hand parting the photo booth curtain. A moment later, a woman peeks her head out. Her blonde hair tumbles in loose waves, while her sapphire eyes shine with a hint of mystery as she scans the crowd, furrowing her brow in concentration, oblivious to my presence.

I’m intrigued when she stiffens, her hand shooting to her mouth as she gasps at something across the rooftop. I follow her gaze to a man standing near the buffet. His hands are tucked in his pockets, scanning the area like he’s searching for someone. The instant he looks in our direction, the woman yanks the curtain shut like she doesn’t want to be found.

Normally, I’d mind my own business, but there’s something captivating about her. Against my better judgment, I find myself wandering over to the photo booth and drawing back the curtain to get a closer look.

She snaps her head toward me, eyes wide with surprise. After a beat, she says, “Hi,” her voice barely above a whisper.

When her gaze meets mine, I’m caught off guard by the unfamiliar warmth that sweeps over me. Her soft smile is disarming, making it impossible to look away.

From here I can make out the golden flecks in her irises, shimmering like sunlight dancing on rippling water. A smattering of freckles dusts the bridge of her nose, and her lips are full, parted slightly as she studies me in return. The sensible thing would be to close the curtain and give this woman her privacy, but I’m rooted to the spot. I’ve met plenty of attractive women, but I’ve never felt a magnetic pull like this before.

It’s rather unnerving.

“I see you’ve turned the photobooth into your personal hideaway. Are you planning to camp out here all night?” I say, my curiosity peaked.

I have no business getting involved, but it grates on my nerves that I’m affected by a stranger who’s only uttered a single syllable since I’ve been standing here.

The woman gives me a quick once-over and then peers past my shoulder out onto the rooftop. “I don’t see anyone waiting for the photo booth unless you’re referring to yourself. If that’s the case, feel free to take a seat.” She scoots over, patting the empty spot beside her, a faint blush creeping up her neck. “Can you make it quick, please?”

I take a better look around the photo booth. The inside is framed with dark wooden panels, and twinkle lights are draped across the wall opposite the vintage camera, creating a backdrop. The built-in bench is small, barely wide enough to fit two people.

Getting any closer is a bad idea, especially when a single glance from her causes my heart to race like it’s going to pound right out of my chest.

“I’d rather not. Photo ops aren’t my thing.”

She scrunches her nose. “I see…and what exactly is your thing ?” She emphasizes the last word with air quotes.

I start to speak but hesitate when she looks behind me again, and I instinctively follow her gaze to the man by the buffet. When he glances over, I hear the woman mumble under her breath, and I am taken by surprise when her slender fingers wrap around my arm. Her movements are quick and determined as she tugs me into the photo booth, and I grunt as I stumble inside the cramped space.

I’m aware of how close we are when she leans over to close the curtain. Her hair grazes my cheek, and the scent of peppermint and lavender fills the air, causing my pulse to quicken.

“Did you know frowning can increase stress levels? You really should smile more.” She taps her finger against her chin, a playful glint forming in her eyes.

“Do you make it a habit of holding unwilling participants hostage in photo booths?” I deadpan.

If she were anyone else, I’d have already told her to get lost. Yet, this woman has completely disarmed me with that infectious smile of hers. I can’t find it in me to be anything but intrigued, and I have to fight the grin threatening to break free.

Goddamn it.

I grit my teeth and shut my eyes to steady myself. If I had just minded my own business, I’d be at the bar, nursing a glass of scotch. Not being accosted by a charming woman hiding in a photo booth. I guess this is the price I pay for letting curiosity get the better of me.

After taking a deep breath, I open my eyes to find the mystery woman staring at me, her gaze soft yet curious.

“Let me guess, Bingo isn’t your thing either?” she asks, dodging my earlier question.

I knit my brows together. “What?”

She motions to the Bingo card I didn’t realize I was still holding. “It seemed like a fun icebreaker, but I forgot to check the prompts on the cards. That’s what I get for ordering them online,” she mutters, mostly to herself. “ Kiss another guest wouldn’t be a problem if I were married or in a relationship like everyone else here.”

Certain I misheard her, I quickly glance at my Bingo card. I skim the prompts: take a selfie with the engaged couple; find someone who ordered the same drink; perform a dramatic reading of a romantic poem. Then, I spot it—kiss another guest.

Who the hell thought creating a Bingo card with these prompts was a good idea?

Although if I were trying to win the game, she’d be woman I’d choose to kiss while crossing off that square. My gaze tracks to her plump lips, and my imagination runs wild with the idea of running my tongue along the seams, coaxing her to kiss me.

I swallow, my throat tight. “Does this have something to do with why you’re hiding out?” I motion to the Bingo card.

She nods. “Ricky, a guy who works at Hannah’s yoga studio, kept going on about how we were the only single ones at the party, which, according to him, meant we were obligated to kiss if we wanted to mark off that square.” She fiddles with the hem of her red floral dress. “I panicked and bolted when he turned his back to get a drink. When I saw the photo booth was empty, I slipped inside and figured I’d wait until the coast was clear before rejoining the party.” She clasps her hands together in her lap.

“And you didn’t kiss Ricky because…?” The question is out of my mouth before I can catch myself.

I’ve had the displeasure of meeting him a handful of times. He’s the type who assumes every woman should swoon over him. He once tried asking Hannah out while they were closing the studio, but Andrew showed up, wrapping his arm around Hannah’s waist and pulling her close to stake his claim. Ricky never dared flirt with her again.

“Call me old-fashioned, but I like to know a guy’s last name before we go to first base.” The woman’s mouth twitches with amusement. “And taking me on a date wouldn’t hurt either.”

“I can’t argue with that logic. It seems I’m already one step behind, given I still don’t know your name.”

Suddenly, I’m acutely aware of her thigh touching mine.

Damn, I haven’t even had a drink, and yet I can barely think straight. It must be the lack of sleep from staying up all night reviewing a contract because there’s no way I’d normally be this distracted by an attractive woman. The voice in my head tells me to resist, but it’s impossible to focus on anything other than the urge to close the gap between us.

It’s no use.

When I look up, her eyes are heavy-lidded, staring at me with a silent plea. Her gaze darts to my mouth, her teeth skimming her lower lip.

I want to kiss this woman.

Hell, I need to kiss this woman…

She remains still as I cup her jaw, caressing her cheek. Her pupils grow wide as I lean in to brush my lips against hers in teasing strokes like I envisioned earlier. I groan when her hands land on my thighs, her fingers pressing into the fabric of my slacks. The touch sparks a flicker of desire that ignites within me like wildfire.

My body jolts forward, capturing her mouth in a possessive kiss. Her lush lips are smooth, glossy and taste like fresh strawberries. I let out a low growl when she opens her mouth to welcome me inside.

“Damn, I knew you’d taste sweet,” I murmur.

As if emboldened by my words, she nips my bottom lip.

The last of my restraint snaps and I pull her over into my lap, her legs hanging to one side, and her dress rides up, as she settles against me, her body molded to mine. She shifts her hands to grip the nape of my neck.

My cock rubs against her ass, and she lets out a heady moan as she rocks into me. I’m pulsing with need, on the verge of giving her more, when a soft click followed by a sudden flash jolts me back to reality.

“What was that?” I ask.

I’m met with the woman’s gaze as she studies me closely as if gauging my reaction. Her hair is tousled from my grip, chest heaving like she’s just run a marathon, and her pupils are dilated.

“I think that was—” Another click followed by the flash interrupts her. “The photo booth, taking our photo. It’s programmed to take two at a time.”

“Thank god, or we might have burned our retinas from that flash,” I say, still blinking to clear my vision. “Doesn’t this thing have a button you have to push for it to work?”

She shakes her head. “It’s motion-activated, but I think the sensor’s a little too sensitive,” she says with a soft smile, a deep blush stains her cheeks.

The fact that our photo was taken during our kiss should bother me, but there’s something more weighing on my mind.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

Her smile slips, a shadow of disappointment crossing her face. “Lila,” she whispers, pulling away just a bit.

That’s when I spot the stack of Bingo cards on the bench seat next to her, and her earlier words replay in my head. I forgot to check the prompts on the cards. That’s what I get for ordering them online.

Holy shit.

I just kissed my best friend’s little sister…at his engagement party no less.

I’m left speechless, struggling to reconcile the fact that I didn’t recognize Lila sooner. She’s transformed from a shy teenager into a strikingly beautiful and self-confident woman. Her glasses are gone, giving me an unfiltered view of her striking blue eyes. And in place of her braces is a radiant smile, revealing perfectly straight teeth framed by those full, pouty lips. I catch myself wishing I could lean in and steal another kiss, just to see if the spark was a fluke or something more.

Seriously. What is wrong with me?

I gently set her down on the bench, needing to create space between us. “I should go.”

Lila’s smile falters, a brief flicker of dejection crosses her features before she quickly masks it. “Oh, okay. Well, it was nice to see you, Brooks.”

I pause, staring at her in disbelief. “You remember me?” It hadn’t occurred to me that she might, but it’s oddly satisfying that she does.

She flashes me an infectious grin. “Of course I do. Your grandma talks about you and your brothers all the time. Plus, you haven’t changed much since I saw you last.” She pauses, tilting her head like she’s studying me. “Well, aside from a few gray hairs and a more rigid posture,” she teases, running her fingers along my temple.

I’m thrown off balance by the unexpected buzz of energy pulsing through me. Lila’s breathing grows shallow as her gaze remains locked on mine, her hand lingering in my hair, and it makes me wonder if she feels the same undeniable pull between us.

Unable to resist, I trail my fingers along her arm in slow, deliberate strokes, savoring the warmth of her skin beneath my touch. The tension between us crackles like a live wire, the air thick with desire. My fingers itch to trace her jawline and explore the delicate curve of her neck as I tug her closer and claim her lips again.

She’s your best friend’s little sister, jackass.

My body stiffens as the reminder crashes over me like a bucket of cold water. I’ve already crossed one line; I can’t cross another. Lila’s the temptation I never saw coming, and now every second I hold back feels like I’m fighting a losing battle.

I draw in a sharp breath, bringing my hand to my side as I gather my resolve. “This shouldn’t have happened.” My tone is gruff, hiding the part of me that wishes she’d stay where she was.

Lila flinches, snatching her hand back.

A sharp pang of guilt tightens in my chest, but I push it aside. “I have to go.”

“I understand. Goodbye, Brooks,” she says, her shoulders slumping.

I scramble out of the photo booth, closing it behind me before I give in to my impulse and do something else we might regret.

I’m prepared to make a quick exit, but my plan is stalled when I see the pictures sitting in the outside slot. When a quick glance around confirms no one is watching, I grab the strip of photos and discreetly tuck it into my suit pocket for safekeeping.

Lila’s comment about wanting a man to take her out lingers in my mind. I might be a moody son of a bitch, but for the chance to be with her, I’d tone it down for a night. I’d take her to the most expensive restaurant in the city and order their finest wine. A woman like her deserves nothing but the best. She also never said the date had to come before a kiss. So why do I feel bad for skipping out before giving her more?

I don’t look back, worried I’ll return to her if I do.

As I head toward the exit, my mind buzzes from the unexpected moment I just shared with her. My hand twitches from the memory of touching her. Thank god she lives on the other side of the country because I have a feeling that if I spent more time with her, all my restraint would go out the window. As it stands, I can return to my monotonous routine and pretend our encounter never happened.