Hollidae Fling Read online

  Hollidae Fling

  Joy Avery

  Rose Gold Press, LLC

  Chicago, Illinois

  www.RoseGoldPress.com

  Hollidae Fling is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright @ 2020 by Joy Avery

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  No part of this work made be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without prior permission in writing from Rose Gold Press LLC, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Paperback ISBN: 978-1-7354167-3-1

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  Editor:

  Paulette Nunlee

  5-Star Proofing

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  Cover Design:

  Sherelle Green

  Contents

  Dear Reader

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Joy Avery

  About the Author

  Hollidae Fling

  Sienna Turner has two words to describe her feelings toward Christmas...bah humbug. She has a similar view when it comes to love. However, when her sister secretly hires Jake Hollidae to install outdoor Christmas lights at her home, sparks fly when the handsome electrician shows up at Sienna's door with a clipboard and a promise to make her love her once-favorite holiday again.

  Dedicated to the dream.

  Dear Reader

  I can never say it enough…THANK YOU for all the love you consistently show and for riding with me. I hope you enjoy Sienna and Jake’s love journey as much as I enjoyed penning it.

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  Did someone say Christmas romance?! I hope you’re ready for a little naughty and nice!

  * * *

  Sienna is no match against Jake when it comes to holiday cheer. While she is determined to play Scrooge, he’s equally motivated to renew her faith in her once-favorite time of year. Joyride along with these two as Jake works a little Christmas magic on Sienna. You won’t be disappointed.

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  Until next time, I wish you light, laughter, love and HAPPY READING!

  Joy

  Chapter One

  Jake Hollidae eyed his childhood friend, Rowe Joseph Winthrop III, sitting opposite him. The two had been best friends since pre-school, had grown up together, graduated high school together, then college. And when Rowe spoke, Jake listened...most of the time. This particular moment was a rare exception.

  “Come on, man. It’s a blind date, not a game of Russian Roulette,” Rowe said, crossing one fabric-clad leg over his knee.

  “Is there a difference?” Jake countered.

  “Jake…” Rowe continued in an exhausted tone, easing his leg back to the floor and coming to sit on the edge of the worn brown chair. “It’s been close to three years. Haven’t you carried this monkey long enough?”

  Jake studied his friend. How could he think any amount of time was long enough to get over what he’d gone through? How did Rowe expect him to ever trust another woman again when the one he’d loved, vowed forever to, would have given his life to protect, had betrayed him, cut him to his soul?

  It wasn’t everyday a man found out a week after his wife’s funeral that she’d been unfaithful. That she’d been having an affair right under his nose and had plans of leaving him. Jake’s eyes lowered to the wedding band he still wore. If someone were to ask him why he hadn’t removed and destroyed the meaningless piece, he wouldn’t have been able to tell them.

  “It’s time you rejoined the land of the living,” Rowe continued. “And this woman will definitely get your blood flowing, if you know what I mean.”

  “My blood flows just fine,” Jake said.

  Rowe waved Jake’s words off. “Shit, man. You’re only thirty-nine. Are you content being celibate?” Rowe grabbed his own crotch. “My balls ache just thinking about it. No sex in close to three years?”

  Rowe appeared to be talking more to himself than to Jake. And when he shivered as if a cold chill had shot up his spine, Jake laughed. Did he miss the soft feel and sweet smell of a woman? Yes. Hell, yes. But did he want to deal with the mental fatigue of a relationship. Hell, no.

  If the opportunity to end his drought presented itself, maybe he’d consider something casual, based strictly on sex. Single life had become the only life for him. That wouldn’t change.

  “Don’t you have some place to be?” Jake asked, needing to banish his meddling friend from his office.

  Rowe pinned Jake with a narrow-eyed gaze. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  “Yes,” Jake said flatly.

  “That’s cold,” Rowe said, coming to a stand. “I gotta get back to the office anyway. You want to meet up for wings and a beer later?”

  “Sounds good to me.” Jake checked his watch. “One of my guys had to leave early. I’m taking over his appointment at five-thirty. It shouldn’t take me more than an hour. Say we meet around seven?”

  “Works for me,” Rowe said.

  Jake stood, rounded the desk and gave Rowe a brotherly hug. “Be safe out there.”

  Rowe flashed a cunning smile. “You know me.”

  “Uh-huh. Which is exactly why I gave the warning.”

  Rowe neared the door. Turning, a serious look on his face, he said, “Think about what I said. You’ve hidden from the world long enough. You’re too damn young to be a recluse. Plus, it’s the holiday season. Do you really want to spend another Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s alone?”

  Jake grinned. “I’m not alone. I have you.”

  Rowe flashed a look of relief. “Thank God, I thought you were about to say Janet. Don’t you think it’s odd how she dotes on you? Like she’s into you or something.”

  Jake had never felt as if his wife’s older sister was trying to make a move on him. She was happily married. In the beginning, though, he had to admit her behavior had seemed a little out of character. The woman hadn’t had much to do with him before Nicole’s death. Maybe she’d known about her sister’s affair and the kindness was her attempt at redeeming Nicole.

  Rowe’s voice drew Jake from his thoughts. “You know I always got your back, bro. Rain or shine. I love you, man.”

  “I love you, too,” Jake said. “Now stop getting all sentimental and get back to the office before your father whoops your ass for being gone too long.”

  While the elder Winthrop was a good man, he was also a tough man who rode his sons hard. If everyone around them were giving a hundred percent, Senior Winthrop expected his boys to give a hundred and fifty, especially Rowe who was the eldest of the Winthrop clan and who’d been tasked with setting the example.

  Even though Rowe had been named one of the top civil rights attorneys in the state of North Carolina, his father had expected him to be the top on t
he east coast, possibly the country. Being good wasn’t good enough. Senior demanded exceptional from his boys. In some regards, Jake felt sorry for his friend. It had to be tough constantly reaching for an ever-rising bar.

  Later that afternoon, Jake headed out to the appointment at 6549 Crestmont Drive, close to downtown Raleigh, for a quick outdoor Christmas lighting assessment. As he drove, the conversation he’d had earlier that day in his office with Rowe replayed in his head. Blind date? Wouldn’t happen.

  So, what if he preferred the quiet comforts of home. If anything, that made him an introvert, not a recluse. The introvert label made him cringe a bit, because he’d always been a self-admitted extrovert. The life of the party. But, hey, people changed. Sometimes circumstances changed them. Not always for the better.

  Was he wrong to be guarded? Wrong to want to protect himself? Wrong to not want to share his life with anyone? Wrong for not caring one damn iota about a relationship or love? He was perfectly content being alone. It wasn’t like he was lonely. The two were very different.

  His mother’s soft, sweet voice played in his head as if she’d sent him a message from heaven. You are lonely, son. “It’ll pass,” he said aloud, as if she could hear him from beyond the grave. It always did after the holidays.

  Twenty-five pies by Thanksgiving.

  Sienna Turner had to produce twenty-five homemade—not to mention, edible—sweet potato pies in two days. The mere thought gave her stress hives, because she’d totally bitten off more than she could chew. What in the hell had she been thinking? Oh, wait, she hadn’t been thinking. That was why she was in this colossal bind now.

  “I need a miracle,” she said aloud, eyeing the chaos in her kitchen. “A gigantic, Christmasy-type miracle.” She closed her eyes. It’s for a good cause, she reminded herself. Unfortunately, the words did little to lessen her panic.

  Her lids fluttered open. She rested one hand on her forehead, the other on her hip. “What were you thinking? You can barely cook, let alone bake.” No one could paint her a culinary genius, no matter how skilled the artist.

  She was a creative, just not with food. And giving everyone who visited the shelter for Thanksgiving dinner food poisoning would surely land her on Santa’s naughty list. “Ooo, Evelyn. This is all your fault.”

  Baking had always been her older sister, Evelyn’s, thing, the person who’d gotten her into this debacle. When she’d initially agreed to deliver the pies to the shelter for her sister, she’d figured all she would have to do was hightail it over to the local bakery and shell out whatever it took to get the pies on such short notice. She should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. Nothing ever had been for her.

  After she’d already committed, Evelyn had dropped the bomb. Homemade only, using their grandmother’s decade’s old, cherished family recipe. To keep her sister from backing out of the trip to see her mother-in-law, Sienna had promised to follow tradition and bake each and every pie. It’s how Evelyn had done it for years. It’s how their grandmother had done it for decades. Surely, she could do it for a couple of nights.

  Sienna had given her word, which still meant something to her. So, regardless of what it took, the task would get done... Her eyes swept the mound of sweet potatoes still waiting to be prepared. Somehow.

  “An extra pair of hands—or ten—would sure come in handy right about now.” She pressed her finger into a stick of butter to gauge its softness.

  At the rate she was going, she’d be here all night. Thankfully, she still had all day tomorrow, but she wanted to get as much as she could get done tonight. Just in case things didn’t go exactly as planned. Never can be too cautious.

  “You’ve got this, Sienna. Just focus.”

  The pep talk helped. Taking a deep, calming breath, she studied the recipe Evelyn had emailed over yesterday, which was when she should have started her baking, she noted. But, at this point, there was no need to dwell on her poor decision-making.

  “Preheat oven to 350 degrees.”

  Simple enough. Her oven was already hot from the store-bought pizza inside it. The one she couldn’t wait to devour. The thought made her stomach growl. At thirty-five, pizza still made her as giddy as a five-year-old who’d just gotten a pony. Another twenty minutes, and she would be in triple pepperoni and extra cheese heaven. To speed things up, she adjusted the temperature a little higher.

  When her cell phone rang, Sienna didn’t have to guess who was calling. Evelyn. No doubt phoning to make sure she was handling the task at hand. “Hello, sister. How was your flight?”

  Evelyn and her husband, Archer, had been guilted by his mother into flying to California to celebrate Thanksgiving since they wouldn’t be making the Christmas trip as they normally did. Unfortunately, this left Evelyn unable to satisfy her annual pie commitment to Doorway to Hope for their Thanksgiving dinner event, Feasts for the Hungry.

  “Long.” Evelyn dragged out the word, making it sound as if it had four syllables instead of one. “How is the baking going? Did you start yesterday like I suggested?”

  Suggested? That wasn’t how Sienna recalled it. It had been more of a demand. “Um, of course. I’m churning right along. No problems over here. Everything is flowing as smooth as custard.” Sienna couldn’t let Evelyn know she was in over her head. Evelyn was depending on her. She wouldn’t let her down, because Evelyn had never let her down.

  “Oh no,” Evelyn said, her words sounding dismal.

  “Oh no, what?” Sienna asked.

  “Why do you sound so…uncertain?” Evelyn said.

  Because she was. Of course, she wouldn’t dare share that tidbit of information. Instead she said, “Eve, everything is fine. Quit stressing. Have a little faith in me.”

  “You know I do. I’m just a natural worry-wart. You, of all people, should know that.”

  Yes, she did. Sienna had to threaten to run away from home to get Evelyn to stop fretting over the fact that she would be alone on Thanksgiving while they were in California. But that was her sister, and Sienna loved her for the constant concern. Even when it was a bit much at times.

  “How many pies have you baked?”

  Sienna glanced at the bag of unopened flour. “You know, like eight. Maybe twelve. Like I said, I’m churning them out.”

  A bout of silence plagued the line, alerting Sienna to the fact that Evelyn knew she was lying. She thought for sure Evelyn would go into full-on panic mode and threaten to catch a flight back to North Carolina tonight, but surprisingly, she didn’t.

  “Oh. Okay. Well, clearly, you have it all under control. You don’t know how grateful I am for your help. Grandma Netta is smiling down from heaven, knowing her pies will be filling hungry bellies another year.”

  At the mention of the woman who’d raised them after they’d lost both parents in a plane crash, Sienna felt even more determined to do this. Although five years had passed since her death, the pain still lingered anytime Sienna thought about Grandma Netta. Thanksgiving was always a little hard, because it had been in November when she’d died.

  “She would tan my hide for letting you spend Thanksgiving alone. I should have stayed,” Evelyn said.

  “No, you should have gone. I’m fine, sister. I have plenty to keep me occupied. Plus, I won’t be alone. I’ll be serving Thanksgiving dinner at the shelter, remember?”

  “Yes, I do, because it’s the only thing keeping me from hopping back on a plane and coming home.” Evelyn’s voice turned sentimental. “We always spend Thanksgiving together. Always,” she repeated. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Before Sienna could respond, the doorbell sounded and she yelped at the unexpected interruption.

  “What’s wrong?” Evelyn asked.

  “The doorbell,” Sienna said, steadying her breathing.

  “That kinda brings me to the second reason for my call. Now, don’t get upset,” Evelyn said.

  With a warning like that, this couldn’t be good. Sienna sighed. “Any sentence that warns not to get u
pset, usually means the person will get upset. What did you do?”

  Chapter Two

  Sienna blinked dumbly several times. “You did what?”

  “I’ve secured you a little holiday cheer.”

  Yep, Sienna had heard her correctly the first time. But what exactly did it mean?

  Evelyn continued, “And don’t fight me on this. I’m your big sister and what I say goes. Love you and we’ll talk later.”

  “But—” Before she could complete her sentence, Evelyn was gone. Maybe Evelyn had known the conundrum Sienna was facing, had broken from tradition and ordered pies. That would certainly give her a whole lot of holiday cheer. While hopeful, Sienna knew it was only wishful thinking.

  With her curiosity piqued, she headed to the door, curious to learn what Evelyn had meant by holiday cheer. The only thing that could bring her an inkling of cheer was if on the other side of this door stood a tall, dark and devastatingly handsome man, wearing nothing but a bowtie and a towel hung low on his hips. As if her luck could ever be that good. Whatever Evelyn was up to, Sienna hoped it involved a lot of something sweet.

  Giving little regard to safety, she aimlessly pulled the door open and froze at the sight of the most delicious-looking hunk of dark chocolate she’d ever seen. Her mouth fell open in complete and utter fascination of the man standing directly in front of her. The instant blaze that ignited in her cheeks and burned a direct line to her loins cancelled out the bite from the burst of cold air clawing its way in.