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Chapter1
Brenna
FIVE MONTHS AGO
Brenna
It hasn't even been a full 24 hours since Thanksgiving ended, and Mara is already pushing Christmas box labor onto me and Abel.
Noah is the smartest of the three of us and left for work bright and early this morning. Asshole. Sooner or later, he's not going to be able to use his cop priorities to get out of doing shit he doesn't want to do. It's Seaside, for Christmas sake. The biggest event this small beach town has seen was limp dick Dale making an ass out of himself when he attacked Mara. I hope he's having the best holidays ever, being Beefy Brutus's butt bitch. Now that puts a smile on my face.
I must say, having a chef as your bestie and roommate definitely has its perks. I feel like a beached whale, but a very happy beached whale. Is that a thing? I mean, they can't be too happy if they're beached, right? Nevermind. Anywho, it's Black Friday, and the town is full of crazies, so I guess I'll succumb to the Christmas unpacking ceremony. At least Mara feeds and waters us like good little pups. There better be pina coladas involved too!
"Abel! Get that mistletoe off your junk! That was my memaw's, and I don't want her memory tarnished by your sweaty nuts!" Mara has her hands on her hips, and if looks could kill, my man would be dead. This garage is a damn rain forest with high humidity. No wonder Abel's nuts are sweating. I'm about to peel off my top and give everybody a show. We don't have a lot of storage in our house, so half the garage is filled to the brim with boxes. Lucky for us, Mara's OCD made her label and color code everything in here.
"Babe? I'll play with you later. Let's get this shit done so I can eat. You know your queen gets hangry when she hasn't eaten. Plus, I wouldn't want the boss lady cutting your jewels off. I'm quite fond of them." Mara gags at my comment.
She loves us, she really does.
How can one woman have so many Christmas decorations?
I swear she was a merry little elf in a past life. Mara loves the holidays more than any other person I know. She's Cindy Lou Who, and I'm the Grinch. Not that I hate it, I'm just not in the obsessive freak mode like my girl. It seems to bring me down a bit; not growing up with parents who gave a shit, has a lot to do with it. I honestly can't remember ever receiving a Christmas gift from my mother. Mara's mom always made sure I was involved in their holiday gatherings, but it wasn't the same. Bless that sweet lady for trying her best. A little girl dreams of opening presents, Christmas morning, with love and happiness surrounding her. I never had that, and it's soured me to this day.
With her hands on her hips, Mara quickly gets my attention when she tells us it's lunch time. "Well, my trusty little worker elves, I think you've earned yourself a lunch break. Brenna, I made your favorite pasta. Chicken pesto with artichokes, and yes, I baked crusty bread to go with it."
I squeal with delight as I run into the house and take a bite before I'm even seated. Not only am I starving, but this breaks the monotony of my past memories. I try my best to keep them buried deep inside, but they creep up every now and then. Mara always knows too. She's creepy like that. She can read me like a damn book, and sometimes I want to slam her face in that book. Just kidding. Maybe.
"Babe, slow the hell down. No one's going to take your food away, my little gremlin." If Abel wasn't so sexy, I'd slap him. He likes to refer to me as his little gremlin when I'm eating. I can't help it. I'm a girl who likes food, and there's zero shame in my game. Lucky for me, I have a crackhead's metabolism and burn calories just breathing. It's a blessing and a curse.
The sound of Christmas music starts filling the room, and then Mara starts singing, as she prances around the kitchen. "Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way."
I drop my fork, mid-bite, and throw a piece of my bread at her, as I shout, "For god sake, woman! I've barely digested my Thanksgiving turkey. Too soon, man, too soon." Abel is snickering, and Mara just ignores me, continuing on her merry little way. This is going to be a very long month.
Noah has perfect timing, as usual, to see me acting up. The man would think I'm bat shit crazy if he didn't already know me. Plus, he lives with Abel. Enough said. He opens the back door just as the piece of bread flies through the air. It hits Mara in the face then drops to the floor, right in front of Noah, and he just smiles.
"What's the drama today, ladies? If it's Abel's doing, I can bring him to the station and babysit. It wouldn't be the first time I threw him in a holding cell for the day. It's happened more than you'd think." Noah's not lying. He told me a few stories about him locking Abel up, except Abel got smart and started using it as nap time and a free meal. Who the hell does that? My man, that's who.
"Bro! It wasn't me this time. I'm innocent!" Well, that's a lie, my little devil, Abel. He's the one who got Mara riled up in the first place with her memaw's mistletoe. Then again, I'm sure memaw is cracking up in Heaven, watching this all play out. That lady was a jokester, herself, let me tell you.Miss you, sweet lady.
Noah, always the peacekeeper, steps in before there's another throw-down, and says, "I don't care who did what, kids. I just want my lunch break to involve my sweetheart's delicious food and those extra delicious lips of hers for dessert. Is that too much to ask for?" Damn. He's right. Have I mentioned that he's always right? It's super cop-ish and extra annoying, but I love the big Romeo, and he's amazing to my bestie. That scores him a damn gold medal in my book.
We all make lighthearted conversation while finishing our meal, then Noah is out the door and back to work. Mara decides to call it a day on hauling more decorations into the house until she can sort out all that's already been brought in. She's overly OCD when it comes to her Christmas decor, so we leave her to do her thing.
I know Abel's ready for some fresh air, and so am I. I hook Hippie up to his leash, and we head to the beach. We're not there 5 minutes and Hippie confronts an older lady, head on, eating a hotdog. Abel isn't paying attention and doesn't have a tight enough grip on his leash, and that was all she wrote. Fuck me. Please don't be a bitch because I'm too tired to fend off an angry old Betty.
"Hippie! Bad boy! Ma'am, I'm so very sorry. He usually has way better manners. Please, let me get you another hotdog, seeing how my bad boy helped himself to this one." She just shakes her head and laughs. Thank, fuck! She doesn't seem to be mad. She's rather happy, actually. Instead of scolding Hippie, she's rubbing his ears, which makes him extremely excited. He loves a good ear rub.
"Don't worry about it, dear. I had a pup once, and sometimes they just can't help themselves. He's a beautiful boy."
"Thank you so much. He's my baby, that's for sure."
She looks at Abel with a gleam in her eye. Like most women in this town, she's probably wondering how I snagged such a hottie. You and me both, lady.
"You and your wife would make beautiful babies, young man. Makes me miss my Henry. We always wanted children, but it just wasn't in the cards for us. Well, I best be going before my old legs stiffen up on me. Happy holidays, you two. Mr. Hippie, it was a pleasure sharing my meal with you, you little rascal."
That was the sweetest thing I've seen in a long time. Gives me hope for humanity in a world full of everyday assholes. There are good people left, you just have to look a little harder most days. Abel is staring at me with a mischievous grin on his face. Oh god, this usually spells trouble for me. So I ask him, "What's up, buttercup? You look like you just ate the canary."
"She called you my wife, and neither of us corrected her, babe. I like the sound of it. I fucking love the sound of it, actually. Makes me want to carry you, caveman style, to the courthouse and make it official, but I know your dream is a beach wedding. I can't wait much longer."
