The Stocking Was Hung (2 page)

Tearing my eyes away from his, I look down and realize he’s no longer wearing his uniform. He’s changed into a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved thermal t-shirt that matches the unique shade of his blue-grey eyes. I don’t know how it’s possible for anything to look better than a man in uniform, but this guy has done it. Even in jeans and t-shirt, he’s absolutely mouth-watering. As he moves his backpack from his lap to the floor by his feet, I notice a pocket on the front flap of the bag with white stitching that reads “SOX.”

“Is your name really
Sox
?” I question, pointing to the pocket when he gives me a questioning look.

He glances down at it, and if the lighting in here wasn’t so dim, with only the sparkle of the Christmas lights above us to see by, I could swear I see a blush spread across his cheeks.

“Uh, no,” he replies quietly, allowing the bag drop to the ground before grabbing the beer the bartender just placed in front of him and taking a big sip.

As I blindly reach for my own glass, I keep my eyes on his face while I take a drink, expecting for him to continue. He doesn’t elaborate at first, but that’s fine. I can wait him out. I have no idea why he sat down next to me after I spilled beer on him and then insulted him. I’m a little buzzed and feeling much less hatred toward the Christmas music echoing around me. Talking to a hot guy is a better way to spend the time while I wait for my connecting flight than wondering how disappointed my mother is going to be when I come clean about everything, what I’m going to do about finding another job, and where the hell I’m going to live when I go back home to Seattle after Christmas.

I let the silence stretch just enough for it to get creepy and uncomfortable while I sit and stare at him without saying a word. After a few minutes, my side-eye glance finally does the trick, and he shakes his head before turning his face back to mine.

“Fine, I’ll tell you my name, but if you laugh, I’m tossing my beer at
you
this time,” he warns.

I make an X across my heart, and then hold my hand up, palm out in a silent promise.

“Stocking…Sam Stocking,” he mumbles, letting out another annoyed sigh.

Slowly dropping my arm to my side, my jaw falls right along with it.

“Stocking. As in…”

Sam purses his lips and glares at me. “As in ‘hung by the chimney with care,’ yes. This is an especially fun time of year for me.”

His statement doesn’t match the scowl on his face, and even though I promised, I really,
really
want to laugh, but not for the reason he might think.

“Go ahead, take back your promise and laugh. I know you want to.”

I have to bite down on my lips to stop the giggle from escaping. With a deep breath, I put the most serious expression on my face I can muster.

“I’m not going to laugh. It’s not funny at all. I honestly pity you right now,” I tell him solemnly.

“I think I’d prefer laughter,” he mutters.

I can’t take the annoyed look on his face any longer and my laughter breaks free. Extending my hand in his direction, I give him a sincere smile.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sam Stocking. The name’s Holiday. Noel Holiday, and this time of year can suck it.”

A smile finally emerges on his grumpy face, lighting up his striking features, and I feel butterflies in my stomach when I catch a glimpse of his dimples again and hear the husky sound of his chuckle. Those damn butterflies start moving like a cyclone in my stomach when his large, warm hand engulfs my small, cold one and gives it a shake.

“It’s nice to meet you, Noel Holiday.” Dropping my hand, he picks up his glass and tilts it toward me. “I’ll toast to sucking it.”

He says that last part softly and his eyes move down to my lips. A sudden shot of lust flows through me as I wonder what it would feel like to have his mouth on mine.

What in the actual hell am I doing? I’m supposed to be heart-broken and sad, dreading the moment when I knock on my parent’s door and have to explain my shitty life and how I’ve let them down yet again. I shouldn’t be fantasizing about some stranger I just met at an airport bar and will never see again.

Sam leans in closer and I get a whiff of his cologne. It’s woodsy and light, not overpowering, but just enough to tickle your nose and fill your mind with dirty,
dirty
thoughts. My body unconsciously moves toward his and I watch his eyes while they stay glued to my lips.

He clinks our glasses together gently and lifts one eyebrow flirtatiously. “To sucking it.”

The playful expression doesn’t leave his face until the glass reaches his lips, and I stare mesmerized at his throat each time he swallows.

“To sucking it,” I whisper, my eyes unblinking as I gulp down my beer.

Sam

“S
o what you’re
saying is, your family is perfect and always makes the holidays fun. You’re right. Your life really does suck,” I mock the woman next to me with a simpering grin.

She purses her lips in irritation, and when my first thought is how fucking adorable she looks, I know I need to get laid. Fucking soon. Eighteen months without a woman in my bed is far too long. After I calmed my ass down from having beer thrown all over my crotch, I got a good look at the culprit, then did a double-take and immediately regretted being such an asshole. With her long, dark red hair, porcelain skin, green eyes and feisty attitude, I almost had to crank one out in the bathroom when I changed into jeans and a t-shirt. I’m not the type of person to sit down and shoot the shit with a stranger, hot woman or not, but I felt obliged to do something to make up for the crappy way I’d reacted to our little accident. Sitting here with Noel, I stare at her full red lips while she talks, trying not to make it obvious that my eyes keep straying to her outstanding cleavage. I realize this might be the best decision I’ve ever made.

“Perfect is a stretch,” Noel replies, waiving the bartender away when she asks if we need another drink. “Annoying, meddling, loud, inappropriate…those are more accurate words to describe them. They mean well, I guess. But nothing I do ever seems good enough.”

I swallow the last of my beer and push the empty glass away without answering. The things I know about families and how they behave are mostly learned from what I’ve seen on TV shows and movies. I have no advice to give Noel about family, crazy or otherwise, but I know men, so at least I can help in that department. Plus, talking drowns out the annoying fucking Christmas songs being piped through the airport bar sound system. If I have to hear “Dominic the Donkey” one more damn time, I’m going to stab someone.

“It’s not your fault your boyfriend jumped the gun and proposed.” I shrug.

“
Tried
to propose,” she corrects me. “He only got
‘Will you’
out before I screamed in horror and asked him what the hell he was doing. Then I ran out of our apartment and never went back.”

Even though I’ve just met her and we’ve only been chatting for half an hour or so, I can picture the entire scene in my head, including the panicked look on Noel’s face when her dumbass boyfriend tried to pop the question.

“Still, not your fault. I mean, you said you told him on several occasions that marriage freaked you out, and you weren’t sure if it was ever something you wanted to do,” I reiterate what she’s already told me. “Dude should’ve had a clue that wasn’t the best decision to make.”

“My mother won’t see it that way,” Noel sighs, swiveling on her barstool to face me. Her knee brushes against my thigh and just that small bit of contact makes my dick hard, I
really
need to get laid, but now my head and my dick are conflicted. Sex with just any woman won’t do. When Noel and I part ways, I have a strange feeling I’ll never be able to get her out of my mind. I want her under me, on top of me, moaning my name, and scratching her nails down my back. But that’s not all. And this is the confusing part. I could listen to her sexy, raspy voice for days, her smile is contagious and I find the corner of my mouth curling up automatically each time she laughs, and her smell…sweet mother of Christ. Each time she leans toward me, I inhale a deep breath like a fucking creeper, just to hold that cinnamon and vanilla scent in for as long as possible. She smells like Christmas, which should annoy the fuck out of me, but it doesn’t. I have no idea what the hell is happening. I’ve known this woman for all of thirty minutes and she’s already gotten under my skin.

Thankfully, she continues talking and gives me a second to get my dick and my brain under control before I do something stupid like ask her to forget her holiday plans and come home with me instead.

“Somehow, it will be my fault. My family will turn it around on me, and why shouldn’t they? I made Logan out to be such an amazing guy over the last twelve months, and I mean, he
was
amazing, just clueless,” she explains with a sigh, tearing her cocktail napkin into a pile of tiny pieces. “Just like every other relationship I’ve shit all over, this one won’t be any different, even if I was the one who ended it. They’ve never understood my abhorrence to marriage. They’ll figure out a way to twist it around because I wasn’t attentive enough, wasn’t romantic enough, wasn’t sexy enough…”

She whispers that last part, breaking our eye contact.

Leaning forward on my stool until I’m only inches away from Noel’s face, I stare at her until her eyes meet mine again. “I’m pretty sure there could never be an instance where you weren’t sexy enough.”

Her mouth parts in surprise, forcing my eyes to drop to her lips. Her full, red lips that she slowly runs the tip of her tongue across like she knows I’m sex starved and two seconds away from coming in my pants.

Just then, the tinny, annoying opening notes of the worst song in the history of the world breaks into our silent moment, making Noel laugh when I growl and shake my head in annoyance. Moving a safe distance away from her, I curse Dominic the mother fucking donkey.

“What about your family?” Noel suddenly asks, her body still facing mine. She rests her elbow on the edge of the bar and sets her cheek in her palm while she waits for me to answer. “I’m sure they have a little crazy in them. Don’t make me be the only one giving it up.”

Smiling wickedly at her choice of words, I watch her cheeks flush in embarrassment.

“I mean, giving up the goods,” she quickly adds, making it impossible for me not to laugh. “Stop laughing, I heard it as soon as I said it. You know what I meant. Spill.”

I’d much rather talk about her giving up the goods, but whatever.

“Sorry to kill your dreams, but you win this round for crazy family because I don’t have one.”

“Everyone has a family,” she responds.

“Not me,” I shrug. “I grew up in the system. Bounced around between foster homes until I was eighteen and joined the marines.”

I hate the look of pity on her face. This is why I keep to myself, and why I’m still wondering why the fuck I sat down next to her thirty minutes ago and haven’t been able to walk away.

“Okay, but you have friends, right?” she asks softly.

“The men in my squadron in the Marines. They’re my friends.”

Noel scoffs and shakes her head at me. “They’re your co-workers. I’m talking about people you call in the middle of the night when you need bail money, or someone to hold back your hair after a night of heavy drinking when a guy ignores the words you’ve been saying for a year and shits all over your heart.”

One eyebrow goes up and I look at her questioningly.

“Figuratively speaking, of course,” she adds.

“I have a goldfish named Thor. But I don’t think he’d be very good at holding back my hair. And if he took a shit on my heart I’d just flush him down the toilet,” I inform her.

“A goldfish is a good start, I guess,” she shrugs. “You should probably work on something of the human persuasion that can actually talk back to you.”

“I’m never home, so what’s the point? I’ve done just fine by myself for thirty-five years,” I inform her. “Also, can a goldfish survive eighteen months without food?”

Noel mutters under her breath and I realize that sitting here riling her up is the most fun I’ve had in a very long time.

“Probably not,” she tells me. “You didn’t ask a neighbor or something to feed him? Wait, let me guess. You don’t have any neighbors either?”

A smile is my only answer and I laugh when she rolls her eyes at me.

“No neighbors. I live in the middle of nowhere on ten acres. My closest neighbors are the Amish, and they’d probably frown on my porn collection if I gave them a key to the house.”

Her mouth drops open once more and just like a few minutes ago, my eyes fly right to her lips, wondering if she’d be opposed to kissing a strange man she just met at the airport. And if not, I wonder if she’d be opposed to
fucking
a strange man in the bathroom.

“Wait, Amish?” she asks, breaking into my thoughts of bending her over the bathroom sink. “My parents live close to there too. Are you from Ohio?”

“Yep. All my life,” I confirm.

“Jesus. Talk about a coincidence.” She smiles. “We must be on the same flight.”