Contents

  Copyright

  This Christmas Skid Marks

  Thank you Reader

  About April

  This Christmas Skid Marks

  April Ryder

  Copyright © 2016 April Ryder

  978-1-927236-82-6

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from April Ryder.

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  Cover fonts:

  Good Foot © Jakob Fischer

  American Typewriter

  This Christmas Skid Marks

  =^.^=

  Just like last Christmas, I awoke alone. Of course I panicked. I say of course because this is me, of course I'm going to panic. Unlike last Christmas I wasn't sunburnt and lobstery, which was a good start. This was because I was no longer working for a faceless business that thought the work Christmas party should be on Christmas Eve and held in direct sunlight. No, now I was working for my bestie. Adam—my bestie—writes erotica romances and boy are they steamy! Whenever I beta read for him I have to have a fan nearby. Or, if he's there, my boyfriend. He's really good at alleviating sexual tension. By that I mean we have sex. Just in case you weren't sure what I meant.

  So I organised the work party. Considering it was just the two of us—he hires an overseas editor and a cover designer as it's cheaper than contracting the work locally—it wasn't really a party. Although we did manage to party. I don't remember much of what happened, but I do recall there being an inflatable shark, a large group of men in their tighty-whities and perhaps jelly body shots. The latter might explain why I couldn't remember the whole night! On the plus side I hadn't acquired any new drunken tattoos.

  Anyway, I climbed out of bed to find out where the fuck my new boyfriend was. He had stayed with me every night since I had left the hospital. You want to know why had I been in the hospital? Well my stupid selfish mother suddenly decided—after years of telling me not to get pregnant and ruin my life like she did—that she wanted grandkids. So she poked holes in all the condoms I had in the bathroom. I ended up having an ectopic pregnancy and after unspeakable pain, fainting, and emergency surgery, have been left with only one working fallopian tube.

  I'm not mad that my chances of having a baby later in life are reduced. I'm mad because my mother did something that turned out to be dangerous and took away my choice about when and if I wanted kids, which I don't by the way. Not now anyway. Maybe I'll change my mind later, but that's not the point! It's my body, my life, and my choice. I was so mad at her that we haven't spoken since Dad had kicked her out of my hospital room. She is, however, still invited to Christmas lunch. Even though I'm so pissed at her that I'd probably spit in her eye, she's still my mother and Christmas is about family. At least it is to me.

  I heard banging coming from the little galley kitchen in my apartment and headed for it. My mouth dropped open when I found my hot new boyfriend making what looked to be pancakes. Oh and he was naked. Totally hot and totally naked. Not the safest way to make pancakes, but yeah. I must have made a sound because Jake—my hot naked boyfriend—turned to me and frowned.

  "You're supposed to be in bed," he told me.

  "I was but I got lonely."

  His features softened and my heart went squee.

  "Well I can't bring you breakfast in bed if you're not in bed."

  I immediately spun on my heel and headed back the way I had come.

  "Where are you going?" he called after me.

  "What are you stupid? Back to bed of course. Last thing I want to do is ruin breakfast-in-bed pancakes."

  I heard him laugh behind me and I smiled. He had been good to me the past month, looking after me while I recovered from surgery. He was so cautious when we had sex—which he'd held back from for a couple of weeks just in case—he insisted on doing all of the work. Which is great. I love being ravished by an Adonis, but sometimes what I really want to do is suck his cock and make him moan and beg for more. It was way past the time to turn the tables on him and start giving back.

  By the time I had gotten back in bed and propped myself up against the headboard, Jake had finished preparing breakfast and carried a tray laden with pancakes, whipped cream, blueberries—sadly no berry coulis but beggars can't be choosers—and maple syrup. These babies were drowning in syrup. Saliva pooled in my mouth in anticipation. I was so fixated on the ambrosia before me that when he placed the tray across my lap I almost didn't notice the red ribbon tied around his erect cock.

  "Why is there a ribbon around your dick?" I asked as I picked up the cutlery.

  "It's your Christmas present," he replied.

  My eyes darted between the pancakes and his now-twitching member. Back and forth. Pancakes… dick… pancakes.

  "Oh my God!" I groaned in frustration.

  My tormentor smirked. "I won't make you choose. I can wait until you've finished your pancakes."

  I gave another glance between the two temptations before digging into the pancakes before me. Seriously, if he hadn't said to eat the pancakes they would have gone cold while I debated which to go for.

  Of course he had to remain standing in front of me, dick in hand while I shoved bigger and bigger mouthfuls of sweet, sweet pancakes into my mouth.

  "Swallow, Princess, or you'll never fit me in there."

  I forced the food down, eyes wide at the thought of him fucking my pancake-filled mouth.

  Holy shit!

  I ignored the blueberries. I could eat them later. The maple syrup, however, needed to be used up. I wiped my fingers across the plate and pushed the tray aside with my elbows. If Jake had a problem with my intentions he didn't say as I wrapped my syrupy hands around his cock and opened my mouth.

  Ding-dong!

  Doorbells have such awful timing. I stuck my tongue out, hoping to at least taste him, but whoever was at the door was insistent.

  Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong!

  "What time did you say your family are going to arrive?" Jake asked.

  I sighed and released him. Any member of my family would not be happy to be kept waiting, even my dad, although he wouldn't say anything about it.

  Jake handed me a napkin and I wiped my sticky fingers before shrugging into my bathrobe. I padded barefoot across my apartment, mentally murdering whoever it was on the other side of the door. I didn't bother to check the peephole as I flung the door wide open.

  It took me a few seconds to register who it was standing before me with a wrapped present in hand and a hopeful smile on his face.

  "What are you doing here?" I asked dumbly.

  "Merry Christmas?" he asked, no doubt taken aback by my abrupt question.

  "No seriously," I said, "What are you doing here?"

  Andrew's smile was uncertain as he tried to give me his gift. "Um… Jake said you were having a Christmas lunch for family and, well… I'm family."

  I actually facepalmed, which smelled really nice for some reason. Oh yeah, pancakes.

  Andrew—Jake's almost eighteen-year-old brother—was inviting himself to my Christmas lunch on a loophole. One I would never have seen in a million years!

  "I kind of don't have anywhere else to go," he quietly added.

  "Come in," I grudgingly said and stepped aside.

  His jolliness returned and he practically skipped past me. His face fell when he caught sight of his older brother though, who was clearly not impressed with the situation.

  "Why aren't you at home?" he asked as I shut the door.

  "No one's home," Andrew told him.

  The brothers stared at each other for a moment and I wondered what kind of relationship the two shared. My sister and I never got along. We only pretended to when forced together for family gatherings, like Christmas last year. Now there was a disaster. We were just too different. She was chalk and I was cheese—because cheese obviously tastes better than chalk.

  Just like I had, Jake relented. "Okay," he said. "But you better behave yourself."

  "I will," Andrew promised. "Did I interrupt something?"

  "No," I said at the same time Jake replied with a "Yes."

  "Oh, that's good," Andrew said as he looked around my small apartment. "You've got a nice place, Goddess."

  Jake's eyebrow rose at the moniker his brother had given me, and I groaned on the inside. I had just gotten Jake to stop calling me Princess—although he still did it on occasion—and now I had another brother who had one-upped him on titles.

  "My name is Hayley," I told him, but going by his distracted nod I don't think it sunk in.

  "That is a cool tree," he exclaimed and moved closer to examine it. "Did you make the decorations?"

  I couldn't help it, I smiled. "Yes, I made them all. It took a while though."

  "That's amazing. I didn't know origami kiwis were a thing!"

  My chest puffed up as I basked in his compliments. Maybe Andrew wasn't so bad. After all he did have good taste.

  I caught sight of the clock above the television and eeped out loud. My real family would be arriving soon and I hadn't marinated the meat last night. "I

need to shower," I told them and rushed to the bathroom.

  "Can I help?" Andrew asked hopefully.

  I froze in the doorway and glared over my shoulder. He hadn't changed a bit.

  "With anything?" he quickly added. "Like cooking?"

  "We're having barbecue for lunch," I told him before disappearing into the bathroom. "The meat needs to be marinated."

  "You should have done that last night," I heard him call after me before I shut the door.

  I'm sure Jake had words with his little brother while I showered and quickly dressed, because every time Andrew looked at me he would quickly avert his eyes, at least whenever Jake was around.

  The doorbell rang and this time it was my father and grandmother at the door. Oh and her little dog too. Sir Lancelot who last year had set fire to the Christmas three and humped the Christmas chicken, after my mother had thrown it at my father while yelling that she wanted a divorce. A year had passed since then and I hoped my mother and father would behave themselves better this year. Although it was really my mother who had started it all.

  "Grandma!" I said as I hugged her.

  "Hi, sweetheart. I thought you said you only had one new boyfriend," she said as we separated.

  "I do," I told her, a little confused by that.

  She nodded behind me and I followed her gaze to Jake and Andrew. "Oh, they're brothers."

  "Good for you," she said, and I blushed furiously.

  "The older one is my boyfriend. His brother is just here to…"

  "I'm cooking!" Andrew piped up helpfully. "But I want you to know that I worship your granddaughter, ma'am. One day she will realise I'm the better brother."

  Jake smacked his brother upside the back of his head, which thankfully shut Andrew up.

  My dad hugged me next. When he looked at Jake he frowned. I wondered why, but didn't have time to ask as my next and final guest arrived behind them and of course she had brought a date. A date that made me do a double take. Honestly, if I'd been taking a sip of something I would have spat it out—I was that shocked! This was worse than Andrew!

  "What the fuck Paul?"

  It was my mother who answered. "Be nice to Paul, Hayley. He's my date."

  My eyes bugged out. "You're shitting me," I said without thinking. Business for usual with me really.

  "Language!" my mother admonished, but I was still too busy reeling from the fact my mother and my ex-fiancé were dating.

  "Seriously?" I said to Paul. "How did this even happen?"

  He cleared his throat and nodded. "I needed somewhere to stay when I left the apartment. Debbie offered and things just went from there…"

  I blinked rapidly at him. If Adam were here he would have deciphered my Morse code to mean: What the fuck is wrong with you? But Adam wasn't here. This year his parents had gotten over themselves and invited their gay son to Christmas with them and they were now cruising the Bahamas—or somewhere—together. I knew Grandma was a little disappointed that her honourary grandson wasn't here, but she had told him herself that she was happy his parents were no longer homophobes and bigots before reminding him to get her a souvenir.

  "Does anyone want a drink?" Jake asked, coming to my rescue.

  "Hell yes," Grandma said, and after gathering orders I went to help my boyfriend and Andrew in the kitchen, which left me alone with my mother, Paul, and my dad. The latter hovered near the tree.

  "I'm allowed to date, Hayley," my mother reminded me. "And I'm not too old to have sex and enjoy it."

  Oh my fucking God! They were having sex.

  "I'm going to put some music on," I said and went straight to the iPod that held all the best TSwift songs. Only TSwift can combat the crazy I didn't want to hear.

  While I was busy trying to ignore everything over there where they were, Paul came over to join me. He didn't seem to get the hint that even though he was my mother's plus one to this Christmas lunch, I wanted nothing to do with him.

  "I'm sorry, Hayley. I didn't think I should come, but she insisted. Said I had been family for so long that it wouldn't matter."

  Dammit, another loophole!

  "You hooked up with my mother Paul. Don't you realise how fucked up that is?"

  He shifted uncomfortably and I wondered if he was still scared of me. Apparently after watching me at roller derby he got it into his head that I might beat him up. I quite liked that idea so hadn't bothered to correct him.

  When he didn't answer I continued. "That is the woman who sabotaged the condoms we used. Because of her we"—and I indicated both of us—"got pregnant. I could have died." That was true, I really could have.

  "She's sorry. She really is. When she came back from the hospital she cried all night. She means well—"

  I held my hand up to stop him. "I don't want to hear it. We're not going to talk about this or anything else upsetting. It's Christmas and we're going to celebrate it like a real family."

  After a moment he nodded, then asked, "What are we having?"

  "Barbecue," I said and walked away before he could even scowl at such an untraditional meal.

  I didn't care what he thought. Him and his northern hemisphere Christmas ideals. This is New Zealand for fuck's sake, not England. So when Jake suggested having a barbecue lunch—while I and my tastebuds had our hearts set on baked glazed ham—I had agreed. It was summer so it made perfect sense.

  Not only did Andrew marinate the meat but he prepared the salads and decided to barbecue the rest of the veggies along with the garlic bread. I had no idea you could barbecue garlic bread! If he weren't so much younger than me and spotty, I would have kissed him. Well that and I preferred his brother, obviously.

  Andrew manned the barbecue—which for some strange reason I had named Derek—out on the small balcony. He was assisted by the menfolk who had to stand just inside the ranch slider since there was no room for them outside. It's a really small balcony. I was surprised that the barbecue even fit.

  I sat on the lone couch in the open-plan living space with my grandma on the matching seat and my mother standing in front of the tree with drink in hand. Aside from the noise the men were making it was silent.

  I sighed. This was ridiculous. I had to break the silence somehow. After racking my brain, I said, "I'm not going to forgive you."

  "What?" Mum asked.

  "I said I'm not going to forgive you for what you did. You do remember the thing with the condoms, the ectopic pregnancy, emergency surgery, right?"

  "I remember," she said softly. "And I understand."

  Colour me surprised.

  "Uh, you do?"

  "Yes. I've had some time to think about it and Paul is right. I was only thinking about myself. I shouldn't have done it."

  I didn't know how to respond to that. My mother wasn't big on apologies or on admitting she was wrong. This was HUGE!

  "Well I'm glad you realised that," I told her.

  "I still want grandbabies though. I'm not getting any younger."

  And there she was, the mother I knew all too well.

  "Grow up, Debra," my grandmother said, startling us both. "I should have smacked you more as a child instead of letting your father spoil you rotten. She doesn't want kids. If you do, then go adopt or something. Heck, if your eggs haven't withered up you could pop out some more of your own. We already know your date's sperm is up for it. He's an idiot but at least he's good at something."

  "Grandma!" I exclaimed.

  "Um," someone said behind me and we all turned to find Paul holding another glass of white wine for my mother. All I could think was that she had him well trained. He'd never got me a drink without me having to ask—multiple times.

  My mother accepted the drink—of course—threw it back down her throat, and indicated she would be having another. She took the elbow of her date and they disappeared into the kitchen.

  "What the fuck Grandma?" I demanded.

  "What? I just said what we're all thinking. Don't blame me because I'm the only one with the balls to say it."

  "You've been hanging out with Adam way too much," I told her and leaned back into the couch with my arm over my face.

  Christmas was already off to a very bad start.

 

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