A Grumpy Christmas Read online

  A Grumpy Christas

  by Corie Rosling

  Copyright Notice

  Copyright © 2019 by Corie Rosling.

  All rights reserved worldwide. No portion of this book may be reproduced or copied without the expressed written permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters and events appearing in this novel are purely the product of the author’s imagination. Any similarity or resemblance to any persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Names, places, events or locales are from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and is entirely coincidental.

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  Chapter One

  Pierce

  The irritating sound of metal scraping against metal screeched through the house, sending me sputtering as my tea attempted to go down the wrong way. My peaceful Sunday morning had turned into a cacophony of noises as the house next door received a new owner. Yelling ensued near my front lawn. I continued to ignore it even as my nerves splintered. Reaching for the remote, my thumb pushed the volume button up, sending the dulcet tones of Haley Reinhart to thunderous levels, singing Seven Nation Army as PMJ played in the background. The singer’s voice was sultry, reminiscent of a smoky forties bar in the French Quarter.

  I should think about moving, but I wasn’t ready yet. If I closed my eyes, I could almost hear Grant’s voice as he laughed and chased Craig down the halls, through the kitchen, and around the great room, finally ending in a pile on the floor as a tickle match ensued. Swallowing thickly as the memories wavered on the edge of my mind, a loud crash pulled me from them as more yelling sprung up outside.

  After a few moments, the yelling stopped. The heavy thud of footsteps sounded again as the movers got back to work. I didn’t know who had purchased the house next door. Probably some young couple just starting out. It was that kind of neighborhood, filled with young couples with kids. In many ways, I thought the neighborhood was changing, but that was a lie I told myself. It wasn’t the neighborhood. It was me.

  It had been five years since the accident that took my future away in an instant. As I grew older and more recluse, I was becoming that beleaguered old man who yelled at the neighborhood kids to stay off my lawn. Not really. I didn’t yell at anyone and no one ever played on my lawn. Inside, I felt like that old man at times. It scared me to think I was turning into someone like Old Man Paterson who used to live in the old farmhouse down the road from me when I was a kid. Thinking of the mean old man left me shivering at all the times I’d been scared out of my wits as he yelled at me while I walked by on the way home from school. That wasn’t who I wanted to be, but I was still in a fog after all these years, trying to figure out my next steps as I figured out how to live the rest of my life alone.

  Forcing those thoughts out of my head, I unlocked the wheels on my chair, pivoting a little before heading into the kitchen. I wasn’t really hungry, but I’d learned to force myself to eat at regular times or I’d forget. Slapping the bread on the table, I added deli meats from the fridge, a little slather of mayo on the bread, followed by slices of Cajun turkey and smoked Gouda. Looking around the pristine kitchen, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cooked. It didn’t seem worth it most days. Not for just me.

  Throwing out most of my sandwich, I went to my office to lose myself in my work. At times, it was the only time the memories didn’t swamp me with grief. My focus was on other, more concrete, things, not leaving room for the dark thoughts.

  Hours later, the darkened room told me it was well past dinner time. I’d forgotten again. Shaking my head, I wheeled myself past the kitchen toward the front of the house. The moving van was gone when I looked out the window. The streets quiet once again. Streetlights glowed, reflecting off the palm trees as they moved with the gentle breeze. The bird of paradise rustled its long leaves against the side of the house, bringing with it memories of Grant as he planted the small plants. We’d watched them grow up into mature plants which nestled together in an attractive grouping with their bright orange flowers. Craig hadn’t even been born yet.

  Another day was over, like a black mark on my soul. The grief never seemed to end. Friends who had loved Grant had stopped dropping by long ago. The few friends who remained had stopped trying to convince me it was time to move on. They kept their visits short, becoming more and more infrequent as time went by. Soon even they would be gone, and where did that leave me? Alone. Always alone.

  Maneuvering my chair through the wide hallway, I wheeled into my room. It was early for bed, but what else did I have to do? Standing, I left the wheelchair by the door, hopping my way around the room as I prepared for bed. It didn’t take long to strip off the sweats and Henley I’d been wearing that day. Throwing the dirty clothes in the hamper, I hopped into the bathroom. The water was quick to heat, thanks to the on-demand water reservoir I had installed when we first bought the house. It had been part of the major renovation on the house when Grant and I had first bought it. The handrails I grabbed were a newer addition.

  I eased down in the shower chair because hopping in the shower was still something that made me uncomfortable. Living alone and cracking my head as I fell off the leg I had left wasn’t on my agenda. Considering the length of time between visitors these days, who knew when anyone would notice if they didn’t hear from me. By the time they did, it could be too late. There were days the pain from losing Grant and Craig were so bad I thought about ending things, but I wasn’t there yet. I still hung on ruthlessly to life. At times, I wasn’t sure why.

  Washing was quick and efficient until I got to my stump. Even after five years, it took some getting used to, seeing the empty space where a leg once stretched out. Most days, the pain wasn’t so bad, but there were times when I swore I could still feel the crushing weight of the car as it pinned me, refusing to let go. The mangled limb I’d escaped with had been a lost cause, leaving me with an above-the-knee amputation. The scars had healed. At least the ones on the outside had. The scars on the inside still bled deep at times.

  Sitting on the bed after my shower, I rooted around for the lotion I kept in the side table drawer. With a quiet snick, the cap flipped, letting me pour the lotion into my palm. Though there was no perfume or other masking elements, there was a mildly detectable scent to the lotion. I’ve gotten used to it over the years. The liquid felt good as it seeped into my skin. Moisturizer wasn’t something I ever thought about before the amputation. Now, it was second nature. Dry, cracked skin was a hazard when wearing a prosthesis. Something I’d learned the hard way.

  I’d just laid down, after finishing my nightly routine, when the music sounded. It took me a moment to place the song. The styling reminded me of PMJ but I hadn’t heard this particular singer before. Thinking it must be new, I rolled over to listen as a powerful masculine voice filled my head. Whoever the singer was, he was good. The last thing I thought as my eyes closed was I had survived another day as the music lulled me to sleep.

  Chapter Two

  Max

  The last box was finally unpacked. It had only taken me six months to get settled in. Admittedly, I didn’t have much to start with. A few heavy pieces of furniture my mom had gotten for my first apartment. I’d managed to lug them from one apartment to the next, swearing each time that I was going to throw the pieces out and buy all new stuff that didn’t weigh a ton. That never happened. Now, I was settling into my forever home or at least a home I didn’t plan to move out of for the foreseeable future. This house was mine or at least, mine and the bank’s.

  It
was unusual for an omega to buy a house, especially at my age. Some people thought I was crazy for buying a home already. Not that twenty-five was young. I guess it was younger than most omegas who ended up buying a house on their own. It was hard to explain why I wasn’t waiting for some alpha to sweep me off my feet. It wasn’t that I didn’t want an alpha. I did. I had dreams of settling down, having a family of my own. I wanted that very much. But I wasn’t waiting to accomplish my goals for some nebulous alpha to show up. I lived my life now, on my terms. When I met the alpha for me I was sure he’d like my take-charge attitude, loving me despite the fact I didn’t expect him to take care of me.

  I wasn’t some simpering omega who couldn’t take control of his own life. Times were changing. Gone were the days when omegas were held back, treated like second-class citizens who had no rights. Sure I’d come up against some antiquated alphas who still held on to their old-school ideals, but they were a dying breed. Most alphas today were more laid back, able to see relationships with omegas as something more than what it used to be in my grandparents’ day.

  Of course, things had always been a little more progressive in Sugar Beach. It was one of the reasons why the town had been established back in the day when Old Man Sugar first discovered the area over a hundred years ago. At least that’s what I’d been told by the real estate agent when they were trying to sell me on a place. Since I worked from home, I could live anywhere. When I’d decided to move to Florida, something about this area called to me. I’d come down here with some friends on vacation and knew instantly this was where I needed to be.

  I’d looked at a lot of houses, but none of them fit until I’d seen this one. It was on a nice lot in a circle with a large plot of land in the back. The neighbor on the left of me was a nice younger couple with two small kids. I’d seen them riding their bikes with the kids around the circle the day I’d looked at the house. We’d chatted, and they’d given me the scoop on all the other neighbors, giving me a feel for the whole neighborhood. It was welcoming in a way I couldn’t explain. Like I was finally where I was meant to be.

  So far, I’d met everyone except the neighbor on my right. I guessed he didn’t get out much because most of the neighbors said they rarely saw him. He was an older widower with no children that anyone knew of, most of the neighbors saying he’d already lived there when they’d purchased their homes. From the ramp built into the front of the house, I guessed the man might have mobility issues. No one I talked to seemed concerned so I shrugged off the feelings that tickled at the base of my neck each time I walked around my house as I played at doing yard work.

  I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, but it was fun. I’d invested in a nice mower I could push around. I planted some pretty shrubs and flowers to go with what had already been planted. Last week I’d planted the tops of six pineapples in one of the flower beds in front of my house, just because I could. The weather in Sugar Beach was perfect for it. I could already imagine harvesting the juicy fruit, even if it took two years to establish like the books claimed. I wasn’t going anywhere. This was now my home, and I aimed to be here for the long haul.

  Looking around the sparsely furnished living room, new chairs to go with my old couch was definitely in order. My parents, as well as my two older brothers and their families, were flying in next week to help me celebrate my first Thanksgiving in my new home. It would be a tight squeeze, but we’d manage. No one had even considered booking a hotel for the long weekend. Something that made my omega heart swell with love for the rambunctious group who would be descending on me soon. I had to get my butt in gear so I’d be ready. It was going to be the best Thanksgiving ever.

  Chapter Three

  Pierce

  Another Thanksgiving survived. This was my fifth one without the omega I’d loved or the child we’d been gifted. Soon the anniversary of their deaths would be here and I’d be forced to endure my sixth Christmas without them. There were moments like these when I wondered what it was I hung on for.

  The neighborhood had been busy with cars coming and going as the people who lived here enjoyed visiting with their families. The house next door had been especially noisy the last few days as guest after guest had shown up on the days leading up to the big turkey day. Apparently, they had a lot to be thankful for. Me? Not so much.

  The late afternoon sun faded and my stomach growled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten yet today. I’d forgotten again. Perhaps, I should think about setting up one of those meal reminder apps I’d seen on the app store. The refrigerator didn’t reveal anything appetizing as I stared into its depths only to find more empty space than should have been there. It was time to go grocery shopping again.

  The ringing doorbell distracted me from the barren cold box. Scowling, I debated not answering. It was unlikely any of the few friends I had left were visiting me today. They knew better than to just show up. Since I hadn’t gotten any texts or phone calls today, my caller wasn’t a friend. I could pretend I wasn’t home.

  Sighing when the doorbell rang again, I pushed my chair to the front of the house. The shadowed figure of a man moved through the window of my front door. I sat there for a moment, as if to get the courage to open the door. It was amazing how scary it was to find out who was on the other side when you didn’t expect them. My heart raced and my pulse beat frantically in my ears as my hand reached for the door.

  “Hi.” The omega who stood there was someone I didn’t know when I opened the door. He was bright and bubbly and everything I wasn’t in that moment. “I noticed you were home. We haven’t met yet, I’m your new neighbor. Well, it’s been about six months, but still. I, uh, noticed you didn’t have any company, and I figured you probably didn’t go all out this year for Thanksgiving. So, I brought you some. Thanksgiving dinner, that is.”

  The young omega managed to spit out everything without taking a breath. In his hands was a large plastic container. On top of that sat another slightly smaller container and another one on top of that, and yet another. The stack was enormous. If all that was food, it was more than I’d be able to eat at one sitting.

  “I can’t possibly acce—” I started to say when the omega interrupted me.

  “Please. You’d be doing me a favor. My family is all leaving tomorrow and they’re all flying. None of them can take leftovers. If you don’t help me out, I’ll be throwing out good food sooner rather than later.” He looked at me with bright blue eyes that seemed to look deep inside me, enticing me in a way I hadn’t been in a long time. It startled me so much I backed up without thinking. The omega must have taken it as an invitation, walking past me.

  “Oh good, your set up is similar to mine. I’ll just set these on the counter. You can decide what you want to eat now, and the rest can go into the fridge. The metal tin has cookies so those won’t need refrigeration. They’re my own special recipe. Once you taste the first one, I doubt you’ll have any left by tomorrow. Anyway, I’ll get out of your hair. I don’t imagine you like company much because I never see any. But if you ever want to chat, just pop on over. I work from home so I’m usually there. It was nice meeting you.” The omega set his load down on the counter and retreated back the way he came, stopping at the door. “I almost forgot. I’m Max Walker.” The omega held his hand out, expecting something. It took me a moment to gather my wits about me enough to shake his hand.

  “Pierce, uh, Knowles.”

  “Nice to meet you. Stop by anytime, Mr. Knowles.” And with a smile, the omega was gone as quickly as he’d appeared, walking down the short ramp then across the lawn to his house next door, giving me a nice view of his tight little ass as it flexed with each step.

  I shook the image from my head. He wasn’t my omega, and I had no business noticing his ass. I slammed the door, twisting the two deadbolts in place before rolling to the kitchen. My first thought was to toss it all in the trash bin, but the smells emanating from them enticed a fierce growl from my empty stomach. Turkey piled high on one side of the b
ottom container, both white and dark meat, sat next to thick slices of ham. The next container held mashed potatoes, dressing, and green beans in divided compartments. Opening another container revealed a thick gravy, its rich aroma making my mouth water. The next container was filled to the brim with the cookies the omega had mentioned. The last thing on the stack was a large foil bundle, the yeasty smell of fresh-baked bread revealed when I pulled apart the thin sheet of aluminum. Butter glistened on the tops of the pillowy mounds.

  Round chocolate cookies with both chocolate chips and chocolate chunks sat nestled together in haphazard stacks, bits of orange zest visible within. The smell of cocoa filled my nose and I couldn’t resist biting into one. Fudgy goodness melted in my mouth with a slight hint of orange lingering on my tongue. I’d never had a chocolate cookie with orange zest before, but the taste worked. Three cookies were gone by the time I replaced the lid.

  Grabbing today’s plate and a fork from the dish drainer, I piled it high with my selections. No sense wasting food that smelled that good. The lid went back on the cookie container so it could sit on my lap where I could sit my plate. I rolled into the living room, transferring my load to the table before moving myself to the comfort of my large sofa. Once settled, I grabbed my dinner, moaning at the first bite. As much as I’d loved my omega, he was a disaster in the kitchen. I’d never eaten anything as good as the food I’d been gifted tonight.

  A short while later, I’d cleaned my plate and only half a dozen cookies were left in the tin. Forcing myself to ignore them so they could be enjoyed tomorrow, I rolled everything back into the kitchen. It didn’t take long to rinse off my plate and fork. Since it was the last meal of the day, everything went into the dishwasher with the previous day’s dishes.