The Naughty List

Audrey

“Oh suck it, Andy Williams,” I mutter as I sneak out the front door toward the yard. That fucking music has been playing all day, and I swear to God I’m going to lose my mind if I hear Holly Jolly Christmas one more time.

I sneak around to the side of the house, hidden by the giant RV that pulled in and parked there just this morning. It belongs to my new step-dad’s brother. The thing is bigger than my whole apartment—a little obnoxious if you ask me.

Once I’m safely tucked away behind the trash cans, I pull my smokes out of my purse and quickly light one. It’s a gross habit, I know, but I like my vices. What is life without breaking some rules now and then? I mean, we all die, whether you smoke or not.

“I fucking hate Christmas,” I mutter after taking the first puff.

“Everything okay?” a deep voice asks.

I nearly scream when a man steps into view from the other side of the RV. Breathing a sigh of relief, I instantly recognize him as Roger’s brother. Roger is my mom’s new hunky husband that she met during a summer cruise in Turks and Caicos. They dated for like six weeks before Roger moved in and they eloped in a courthouse ceremony during my midterms. Now, they’re hosting their first fancy Christmas together in the house, and he brought his brother.

“Oh, hey,” I say once I realize that this isn’t the sort of scenario that ends up with me tied up in someone’s trunk—although, now that I think about it, that might be preferable to going back into the house.

Roger’s brother—damn, I can’t even remember his name—leans against the RV and just stares at me with a smug grin.

“Aren’t you a little old to be sneaking out?” he asks.

My brow furrows. “I’m not sneaking out. I just like hanging out right here.”

He laughs. “Okay, then.” It’s quiet and tense for a moment, and I can’t tell if he’s going to cool or a complete douche.

“Relax, I was just teasing you,” he says finally.

I let out a sigh. “Sorry. It’s just been a stressful day. What’s your name again?”

“Grant,” he answers stoically.

Grant is good-looking for an older guy in a sort of Brawny paper towels sort of way. He’s broad shouldered, filling out his dark gray button-up shirt. He has rich brown hair and a beard that’s cropped close to his skin.

“You’re not going to tell me this is bad for me, are you?” I ask.

He smiles, crows feet wrinkles sprouting from his eyes. “I was going to ask if you had an extra.”

“Uh, yeah.” Reaching into my purse, I pull him out a smoke and my lighter. He lights it, tilting his head and covering the flame with his hand, and it’s somehow sexy as fuck.

No, that’s weird. I can’t think about my step-dad’s brother like that. He’s basically my uncle now, right? Gross.

“So…” I say, feeling a little uncomfortable.

“You’re home from college?” he asks. “What’s your major?”

I straighten my shoulders as I answer. “Pre-law.”

“Ah,” he replies with a nod. “Following in your mom’s footsteps?”

Something about that sets me on edge. “I’m following my own footsteps...but yes, like my mother. It’s a good career with steady income.”

“Sounds exciting,” he says with a smirk that tells me he’s not being one-hundred percent sincere.

“Well, what do you do?” I ask.

“I own a lake resort in Pineridge.”

Oh, dang.

“It’s closed for the season, so for now, I live in this,” he says as he taps the giant RV trailer behind him.

“You live in this alone?” I ask. I don’t know why I’m trying to get his relationship status. He’s clearly not going to look twice at a girl half his age.

Something in his expression flinches. “I do now.”

“Oh,” I answer without knowing what to say to that. Is he widowed? Divorced? No, it’s none of my business.

He seems to shake it off immediately and looks at me with curiosity on his face. “So, tell me. What do you really want to be?”

I blink at him for a moment. “I want to go to law school...be a lawyer.”

“Absolutely nothing about you says lawyer.” He’s teasing me, but instead of reacting offended, I crack a smile.

“What are you talking about?”

“Look at you. You’re wearing Doc Martens and bright red tights with a Pixies shirt. No lawyer dresses like that.”

“Well, I’m not a lawyer yet,” I argue.

“!” a high-pitched voice calls from the front door, and my eyes widen.

Before I can react, Grant holds up a hand and peers around the corner.

“Oh, hey Grant,” my mother says to him. “Have you seen ? I need her to go get ice.”

“No, I haven’t seen her,” he answers, and my jaw drops. “But I can go get you ice, Mel,” he says.

“Oh, thanks, Grant. I really appreciate it.”

Then, she’s gone and I’m staring at him like he has three eyes. “Why did you lie for me?”

“Because you clearly don’t want to be in there anymore than I do. So, let’s go get some ice.”

He walks toward his truck parked in front of the giant trailer and only glances back at me once before he climbs in the driver’s seat. After a moment of silent shock, I chase after him and jump in.