Mistle-Ho (Cape Coral Swamp Cats)
Chapter 1 – Alexis
1
The Night’s Young #1
Alexis
AS I CLIMB the stairs leading to the porch of my parents’ stucco two-story, my already bad mood sours further. The heavy chords of “Jingle Bell Rock” thump against my brain like the beginning of a migraine. Through the glowing windows I can see that the place is packed to the gills. I’ve done this enough times to know that by now, ninety percent of the friends and neighbors filling my childhood home are shit-faced, so they’ll be loud and chatty and huggy. It’s a lot for me to handle on a good day, and today has not been a good day.
I’m turning on the heel of my red ribboned stilettos, preparing to go back to my car and claim uncontrollable diarrhea, when the front door flies open. My mother smiles out at me. Her small but curvy frame is covered with enough red and green flashing lights that she should come with a warning label, and there’s tinsel stuck in her blonde hair.
“There you are.” She grabs my arm, pulling me into the eggnog-fueled fold as she announces my arrival at the top of her lungs. “ Alexis is finally here .”
Hell’s bells.
I attempt to tug free of her grip, hoping to flee to some other—less peopley—area of the house before I get swarmed by the masses, but she holds firm as everyone greets me, dishing out overtight hugs and blurry smiles. It’s almost like my mom has no clue how much I hate this party. Honestly, she probably doesn’t. It’s never occurred to my parents that not everyone loves to hang out with a houseful of people who’ve been chugging mulled wine and Christmas punch, spending hours fending off meddling questions from people invading your personal space.
“How was your work thing? Do you want a drink?” My mother reaches up with her free hand, adjusting the battery powered antlers glowing brightly against her blonde hair as she continues firing off questions. “Or something to eat? I made those meatballs you like. Want me to get you some?”
I manage a small smile. “No, thanks.” I wasn’t lying when I told her I’d be late, but I might have stretched the truth about the reason. While I technically wasn’t on the clock for my dinner at The Providence, a coworker was there. And boy was that a mistake. I should have realized going out with a guy I would have to see every day was a terrible fucking idea.
To be fair, I’m starting to think going out with any guy is a terrible fucking idea.
“Finally.” The single, deeply-boomed word is my only warning as my older brother comes out of nowhere. He expertly extricates me from our mother’s grip, so she can get back to her beloved party, before pulling me into a bear hug that smashes my face against his muscly chest.
While I got our mother’s shorter, softer stature, Leo takes after our dad, which means he’s well over six feet tall and built like a bull. It makes him an amazing rugby player, but next to impossible to wiggle away from.
He leans into my ear as he squeezes the air from my lungs, ignoring my attempts to free myself from his hold. “I was about to come find you and drag you here myself. No way am I suffering through this thing alone.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t try to feed me that bullshit. You love this party as much as they do.” I might look like our mother, but Leo acts like her. He inherited her outgoing personality and love of socializing.
After a few more seconds of unwanted affection, he finally releases me. One big paw moves in the direction of my head and I lean back, shooting him a glare as I lower my voice. “If you touch my hair, I’ll shove Cookie Clause off the counter and tell mom you’re the one who did it.”
Leo’s eyes widen like he doesn’t already know I’m the more vicious sibling, regardless of what our careers might suggest. “You monster.”
Melting from the crowd like a specter, my brother’s best friend suddenly appears on my other side, his arrival proving he’s worth every penny the Cape Coral Swamp Cats pay him. He gives me a smirk. “She’s a monster all right.”
For fuck’s sake. I’m not even out of the entryway and I already have to deal with him? I knew Gavin would be here, but part of me hoped I’d get lucky and be able to avoid him all night. God knows I could use a little luck after spending an hour and a half listening to yet another idiot with an over-inflated ego drone on about himself.
I thought scheduling a date tonight to reduce the amount of time I had to spend surrounded by my loud family and their loud friends was a stroke of brilliance. It was not. It left me even more pissy than normal, which is saying something.
I pull in a deep breath, trying to temper my aggravation. “Hello, Gavin.”
I’ve known the towering giant of a man for almost fifteen years. And for almost fifteen years he’s teased me mercilessly. Every time our paths cross, Gavin pretends to flirt with me, dishing out easy smiles and smooth lines like a lunch lady on pizza day.
When I was younger, I was dumb enough to think maybe it was real. That he genuinely had an interest in me. I spent more than a few teenage nights expecting something to develop between us, and sulking in disappointment when it didn’t.
Then I grew up and figured out it was all fake. To Gavin, I was just his friend’s little sister. There to be teased and annoyed.
He still holds the same opinion, and tonight I’m not sure how that’s going to go for him. Based on the way my evening’s played out so far, there’s a good chance he could end up with Cookie Clause shoved up his crapper.
That would be more difficult to blame on Leo though…
“I was starting to worry you weren’t coming, Al.” Right out of the gate, Gavin pisses me off, using the nickname he gave me the first time we met. “I thought the party was going to be ruined.”
I tip my head with a smile. “It might still be ruined. The night’s young.”
As usual, Gavin isn’t deterred by my bad attitude. Amusement flares in his caramel-colored eyes as he grins at me over a glass of eggnog that looks comically small in his enormous hand. “Promises, promises.”
I almost shift in my stilettos at the way he’s looking at me. If I didn’t know better, it would be easy to mistake his intense focus and unwavering attention for interest. But I do know better. And what I know is, Gavin’s fucking with me.
I’m not foolish enough to think I’m the only woman he does this with. The man is a notorious fuckboy with a reputation that would ruin anyone else. Not him. If anything, it’s almost made him more desirable to the female population of coastal Florida.
Maybe it’s because, from a strictly observational standpoint, he’s gorgeous. The quintessential tall, dark, and handsome, but not in a classic way. He has more of a caveman esthetic going on. His extreme height is only amplified by his equally extreme width. His chest would fill more than one barrel, and I swear his shoulders look like they shouldn’t fit through a doorway. The thick, rich brown wave of his hair nearly reaches those barbarically broad shoulders. A stubborn piece of it insists on always falling over one eye, adding to an unexplainably boyish charm that has probably disarmed more than a few females.
Oh. And he’s the most popular—and highest paid—rugby player in the US. Can’t forget that.
Objectively speaking, I can see why women throw themselves at him. And good for them, I guess. At this point, I’ve got no room to judge anyone for their romantic choices. Mine sure as hell leave a lot to be desired.
“I’m going to get a drink.” I elbow away from Gavin and Leo, dodging the wobbly bodies of my parents’ friends on my way to the kitchen. Reaching the drink station set up down the marble countertop of the island they added when they renovated last year, I barely hesitate before snatching up a plastic poinsettia-print cup and scooping in a healthy dose of my mother’s infamous Christmas punch. Checking the clock so I know when I’ll be safe to make my exit, I chug it down, the familiar burn warming me from the inside out.
Once the cup is empty, I slam it down and go to work unlacing the threadbare scarf looped around my neck, muttering ‘Holy shit it’s hot in here,’ to myself as I detangle the red and white stripes.
“That’s just you.”
Frustration has me ready to yank at the delicate knit of the accessory, so I force myself to stop and breathe, counting backwards from ten before I spin to face the man behind me. I shoot Gavin a scowl that would send most people scurrying. “Funny.”
“What can I say?” He shrugs, eyes staying on mine. “I’m a funny guy.” The smile on his face almost seems to slip before coming back full force. “You look good tonight.” He reaches out to finger the scarf cooking into my skin. “Red is your color.”
I cross both arms over my chest, resisting the urge to fan my face as I get warmer and warmer thanks to whatever my mom laces her punch with. “Can I do something for you, Gavin?”
His smile tilts into a smirk. “I guess that depends on what you’re offering.” His tone is low and silky and it sends the warmth I’m wrestling lower.
That’s… Unexpected.
He leans closer, bringing a hint of cedar and surf into the personal bubble I try to protect at all costs.
I’m used to feeling short. Between my brother and my father, I’m accustomed to people towering over me. But this is different. Gavin’s presence feels less like an imposition and more like a barrier. The substantial width of him blocks out a little of the noise and congestion that’s the equivalent of nails on a chalkboard to me.
It’s almost… Nice. Probably because of all that punch I just guzzled.
His eyes stay fixed on mine as he continues closing the distance between us. “For now, you can move so I can get something to drink.”
All the warmth sliding under my skin flashes to a flame of embarrassment. I can’t believe I almost fell for his bullshit. Again.
“You’re such a dick.” I shove at his chest, shouldering him back enough I can slip away. “Enjoy your punch. I hope you choke on it.”