Cupid Has a Heart-On (The Holidays #2) (10 page)

“Go away, Mom!” I yell to her.

“Fine! But hurry the hell up! This tingly lube I just put on my vagina isn’t going to last forever!”

Stray Stripper

Sam

T
he last couple
of days have been crazy busy and Noel and I have had zero time to ourselves. To talk OR have another go-around with Pleasure Town, sadly. Maybe the sex part is a little bit of a good thing since it gave my fucking nipple time to heal. It’s no longer angry and red, I don’t want to cry like a baby when my shirt rubs up against it, and I do believe I might actually like the thing now.

I’ve been working overtime on base, and along with the extra physical training my CO gave to me and Alex for being assholes in the office the other day, I can barely keep my eyes open or do anything more than crash into bed by the time I get home. Noel switched up her job application process by throwing it back old school and physically pounding the pavement–walking into offices with job openings and personally handing them her resume instead of just emailing it. She thought putting in some extra effort would give her a leg-up, but so far, no one is biting. Her stress level is at an all-time high, and I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out a way to fix things for her. I can’t stand seeing her so upset and worried about her future, and I especially can’t stand that because of this,
our
future has been put on hold. Thankfully, I think I might get a chance to save the day and save Noel’s sanity.

“The position is for a Creative Director and you meet all of the qualifications,” I tell Noel, handing her the print-out one of my Marine buddies gave me today. “My friend’s wife is the manager of the department and she has an interview opening tomorrow for you.”

Noel quietly reads over the paper explaining the job, the pay, and the benefits.

“Holy shit, this is for the headquarters of Happy Greetings,” she says softly, looking up from the paper to smile at me. “They’re one of the largest greeting card companies in the US. Sam, this is amazing!”

I let out the nervous breath I was holding as she slides her arms around my waist, the paper crinkling in her hands behind my back. One of the things I love about Noel is her fierce independence and need to do everything on her own, so naturally I spent the entire day worried she’ll think I’m pushing this job on her just to get her out of her parent’s house and get pissed at me all over again. I’ve stopped mentioning it just to keep the peace, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still frustrated about our situation and will do anything to change it. I want to build a home with her and a life with her, and I want it
yesterday
.

“You’d be in charge of creating your own greeting cards from choosing the messages to picking out the artwork. It sounded like something fun,” I suggest with a shrug, brushing a lock of hair off of her cheek so I can kiss it.

“I love you, Sam. Thank you for doing this. It’s perfect,” she replies, squeezing me tighter. “Since we have a few minutes alone before my mom gets back from grocery shopping, my dad wakes up from his nap, and Aunt Bobbie gets bored watching porn in the spare bedroom, I thought we could-”

“Have the sex? Outstanding idea. Take off your pants.”

Noel laughs and I pull her body closer to mine, loving the sound of her happiness so much that I know I’ll do anything to keep her this way, even if it means shutting my mouth about our living arrangements.

“As tempted as I am by your flowery way with words, I thought we could talk.”

Right. Talk. That was my second choice.

“Alright, but just so you know, my nipple is fully healed and it has requested your lips, soooo…” I trail off.

She pulls one arm out from around me and slides her palm up my chest, using the tips of her fingers to trace around the nipple in question, grazing one finger over the piercing. It’s like a bolt of lightning right to my balls, and I groan.

“Yep, definitely healed. Holy shit, it’s like a power switch right to my dick.”

She smiles wickedly up at me. “Talk first, nipple play second.”

I take a step back from her before images of her teeth tugging on my nipple ring make me throw her onto the couch and fuck the hell out of her. We definitely need to talk. Ever since I let it slip that I only pierced my nipple so she’d think I wasn’t a pussy, she’s admonished me constantly about being an idiot and asking me where on earth I would have ever gotten such an idea. Since I can’t exactly tell her it came from Alex, who heard it from Scheva, without Alex beating the shit out of me, I’ve shrugged it off and told her I got the idea from a book.

And each time I’ve tried to ask her what else is bothering her, aside from the no job thing, she’s told me everything is fine and she’s just being a stupid girl. We’re both obviously holding back, and if we don’t get it all out in the open, one or both of us is going to lose our shit and it won’t be pretty.

It hasn’t helped much that all of our conversations the last couple of days have happened over the phone while we were both busy, distracted, and exhausted. This is the first moment of alone-time we’ve had since the night of Nipple Gate in the laundry room, and I’m determined to keep my head out of the gutter and not push our problems aside because I can’t keep my hands off of her whenever we’re together.

Although I use the term “alone-time” loosely since I can hear Reggie snoring upstairs and Aunt Bobbie banging away on the keyboard of the computer in Nicholas’ old bedroom.

Noel slides her hand through mine and tugs me toward the couch and like some bad, made-for-TV romance movie, everything that can go wrong, DOES go wrong. As we both start to take a seat and finally hash things out, Nicholas walks into the living room with a Tupperware bowl of last night’s dinner leftovers in his hands, shoveling fried chicken and mashed potatoes in his mouth.

“Um, where did you come from?” Noel asks as he squeezes in between the two of us and flops down on the couch.

“I saw Sam’s truck in the driveway and snuck in through the kitchen door in case you two were doing something weird in here,” he explains through a mouthful of food.

We stand in front of the couch, staring down at him as he eats like he hasn’t had a meal in a month.

“Don’t you have a home? And your own food? Why are you here?” Noel says with a sigh.

“My home is currently a warzone. Have you ever been around a new mother?” Nicholas asks, licking his fork clean before setting the empty container on the coffee table in front of him. “Half the time she’s crying louder than the baby, and the other half she’s screaming about all the dangerous shit in the house we need to get rid of. It’s a nightmare.”

“NOEL! HOW DO I REMOVE THIS STUPID PARENTAL LOCK FROM THE INTERNET? I CAN’T MASTURBATE UNDER THESE CONDITIONS!” Aunt Bobbie shouts from upstairs.

“And you thought coming here would be less nightmarish?” I laugh.

“Yeah, I didn’t really think things through. I just ran out the door when Casey started freaking out about how we have to get rid of our cat because he was looking at Holly funny,” Nicholas says with a shake of his head.

Grabbing Noel’s hand, I pull her away from Nicholas while he busies himself with turning on the television.

“Okay, so clearly there won’t be any privacy down here. Why don’t we go up to your room and talk?” I suggest.

Noel nods and we walk hand-in-hand out into the hallway. When we get the base of the stairs, the front door flies open and Bev comes rushing in, calling for everyone to meet her in the hallway.

With annoyed sighs, Noel and I turn around to see her ushering in a very young, very scantily dressed, very well-endowed woman. Nicholas comes in from the living room to join us and Aunt Bobbie and a sleepy-looking Reggie walk down the stairs together, stopping right next to us.

“What in tarnation is all the racket for? I was trying to take my before-dinner nap,” Reggie complains with a stretch, his arms freezing in place above his head and his mouth dropping open when he gets a look at the woman standing next to Bev with a big smile on her face.

“Everyone, this is my new friend, Pinky VonPump and she’s going to be spending the night with us tonight,” Bev announces, wrapping one arm around Pinky’s shoulder. “Noel, she’s going to stay in your room.”

“So much for finding privacy
there
,” Noel grumbles.

I nod my head, looking up at the ceiling instead at Pinky. It seems like the wisest decision.

“Excuse me, um, Pinky, but Mom, who is this person and why is she staying in our home?” Noel asks.

“Get a load of the rack on
her
,” Aunt Bobbie mutters next to me.

“I told you, her name is Pinky and I just met her at Walmart. The poor dear has no place to stay tonight since they’re fumigating her apartment for termites, so I said she could stay with us. She’s a stripper! Can you believe that?!” Bev asks.

“Oh yeah, I can believe that. Damn. Seriously. Look at those tits,” Nicholas whispers from the other side of Noel, which earns him a smack to the stomach from her.

“This is an excellent paint job you’ve got on your ceiling, sir,” I tell Reggie, who smartly keeps his eyes trained anywhere but on the stripper, just like myself.

“The key is using ceiling paint. Regular old wall paint just won’t do,” Reggie explains with a nod as we both stare above our heads.

“Mom, you can’t just bring home a random stripper like she’s a stray cat,” Noel complains.

“Shhhhhh, keep your voice down, she can hear you!” Bev whispers dramatically.

“Oh, it’s okay, Mrs. Holiday!” Pinky tells her. “I like cats. They’re so soft and cuddly.”

“Her tits look soft and cuddly,” Aunt Bobbie mumbles under her breath. “My penis is really confused right now.”

I hear Aunt Bobbie screech in pain and see out of the corner of my eye that Noel is currently pinching the side of her arm.

“Noel, be a dear and go get Pinky a sweatshirt and some sweatpants. She needs to get out of all this restricting clothing,” Bev says with a sigh. “Honestly, sweetheart, I don’t know how you can even breathe in such a tight shirt. And aren’t you freezing with your cute little belly button exposed and wearing such a short skirt?”

Reggie starts to choke and cough, and I reach over to pat him on the back while we continue studying the ceiling.

“I really love the shade of white you used. What’s it called?” I question nervously, sweat starting to run down my back and my neck getting a cramp in it from holding it at such an odd angle for so long.

“Uh, er…it’s called white. You think it could use another coat?” he muses with a shaky voice.

“Definitely. I can help you with that when you’re ready. How many cans do you think it will take?”

“Cans…” Reggie mumbles with a nervous laugh.

“Keep it together, sir!” I scold under my breath.

“Oh, my Gorgonzola,” Bev mutters. “You two act like you’ve never been around a stripper. What is wrong with you?”

Noel laughs and pats me on the back. “It’s okay, you can look. It’s fine.”

I take my eyes off the ceiling long enough to glance over at Reggie and he shoots me a wide-eyed, panicky look.

“Don’t do it, Sam. Don’t do it!” he warns. “It’s a trick!”

“I apologize for my husband and future son-in-law, Pinky. They seem to have lost their manners,” Bev explains.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Holiday. I’m used to being around men without manners. You have no idea how many guys never even say ‘
thank you’
after I give them a lap dance,” Pinky tells her.

“I think I’m having a heart-attack,” Reggie moans.

“Sam, seriously, stop looking at the ceiling. Do you honestly think I’m
that
insecure?” Noel asks me softly.

Too softly. Her voice is like butter, but the hot, molten kind that you pull out of the microwave after two minutes and will scald your skin if you don’t handle it correctly.

“I love you,” I tell her, just so we’re on the same page and she doesn’t burn the fuck out of me if I take my eyes off the ceiling.

“I know, which is why you can stop looking at the damn ceiling already.”

I look at Reggie again and he’s shaking his head back and forth so fast I’m surprised he doesn’t get dizzy and pass out.

“I feel like your dad is right and this is a trick. Or a test. One that I will fail miserably and you’ll kill me in my sleep if I do it wrong,” I mutter. “It’s fine. I really like looking at the ceiling. How about we just go back to my place and talk?”

Aunt Bobbie taps me on the arm and thankfully, I can look at her instead of the doorway where my final exam is waiting for me to fuck up royally.

“I forgot to tell you. I’m gonna need to stay at your place for a few days since this house seems to be at capacity now that there’s a stripper in residence,” Aunt Bobbie informs me. “I’ve got this Tinder date, stalker situation that needs to work itself out, so it’s best if I stay away from my house right now until the poor man wears himself out and moves on.”

“Do I even want to ask what you’re talking about?” Nicholas questions, his eyes still staring unblinking over at the stripper by the front door.

“Well, this guy got a piece of Beautiful Bobbie and now he can’t quit me,” she says with a sigh. “He stands out on my front lawn, jerking off while reciting poetry. It was cute at first, but there’s only so many times you can hear someone moan through a Robert Frost poem.”