How My Brother's Best Friend Stole Christmas - Molly O'Keefe Page 0,30

my touch wasn’t comfort. That it might be the opposite of it. That I might actually be hurting him and I didn’t know what to do with myself.

“Hey,” he breathed, and he pulled me into his arms. A hug. Brief but hard, like the hugs he used to give me before we’d put our mouths on each other. And I held strong, forced myself not to melt into him. Not to soak him up. Not to lean and want and desire.

“See you at work,” I said and slugged him in the shoulder.

And then he was gone.

I stood in my kitchen for a long, long time, trying not to cry. I lasted thirty second before I gave up, sat down on the floor, and cried until I was dry.

12

Sam

My first job out of the Marines. My first day. Two days after Christmas.

Mom had packed me a lunch. Turkey on rye. An apple. Some of that gingerbread.

Like I was ten.

I felt like a fool. And also…more than I’d thought, excited. Excited to be of use again. Particularly to Wes and Sophie. I mean, not that I had anything to add. I was just a warm body in the warehouse. But it felt good to be there. Among family.

Well, I hoped Sophie and I could feel like family again. I hoped I hadn’t ruined that.

I walked in the front door, saw all the Christmas decorations still up. But then Kane Co. was a Christmas company and half the decorations were up all year round. But still, the wreaths and the lights were a reminder of the party. Of what happened between me and Soph.

But those reminders were everywhere for me. Sunlight coming in through the window reminded me of her. Half asleep this morning, my own hand on my own chest had felt like hers in my imagination and I got hard. Stayed hard. Put my hand around my cock and held onto the memory of her touch. Her lips. Her beautiful self.

Managed to come with a roar all over my stomach.

Don’t think about it, I told myself walking into the warehouse. Don’t think about her. Don’t remember. The warehouse was quiet, though I could hear the hum of voices coming from what I knew was the employee break room. I walked down the hallway, past all the shelving and the packing section. The shipping desk.

Her desk. I didn’t look at it or the floor in front of it, where her dress had pooled like a puddle of blue sequins.

Nope. I was all business.

Outside the break room was a crowd of men and women drinking coffee.

I found a spot near them, exchanged nods with a few of them I recognized, and looked inside the break room where Sophie stood, holding a meeting.

“You guys were amazing,” she said, her eyes scanning the crowd. “We shipped sixty percent more ornaments than we have any other year. We streamlined all of our packing protocols. We saved this company about twenty thousand dollars this season. That’s because of all of you.” She started to clap, and around the room and in the hallway everyone was grinning. They loved her. Her spot in this family had always been unappreciated. She didn’t have Wes’s spark and drive, but she was a leader in her own way. Sparkly in her own way.

“We have inventory and cleanup for the next few days,” she said. “And I’m open to all and any complaints about the season. Or recommendations to improve productivity or morale around here—come see me.”

She made pointed eye contact with a couple of people and then clapped her hands. “But before you all get to work…you know what time it is.”

There was a ripple of laughs and a few claps, and from a box on the table in front of her she pulled an ornament…

I tilted my head sideways.

“Is that what I think it is?” I asked.

“Naked Mrs. Claus ornament. It’s a whole thing,” said a woman standing next to me.

“The MVP of this year’s holiday season is…” Sophie said, and staff at the table smacked the surface, creating a drum roll. “Joe Arben.”

The handsome kid who’d had his hands on Sophie the night of the party, unzipping her dress with his mouth at her shoulder, stood up, all smiles.

“You assholes are never going to find it this year,” he said and took the ornament from Sophie, then wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in for a hug. Which she accepted with a bright, merry laugh.

I turned,