HOT GUY (A Christmas Romance) by H.M. Ward
TEASER! HOT GUY (A Christmas Book) Coming Nov 15th.
(this story is unedited! copy not final)
My heart slams into my chest like I’m having a fucking heart attack. I pull up Chad’s number and press CALL. He’s been my best friend since we were in boarding school together. I unload all my shit in the longest sentence ever heard. I don’t fucking come up for air until I’m done. Panic has its icy fingers around my throat and I can’t shake the bastard.
Chad’s on speaker phone as I floor the sleek black McLaren across the Verrazano Bridge and toward eastern Long Island. I’m bobbing and weaving through traffic, gripping the wheel so tight that it might come off in my hands.
I rant for a while and then slam my palm into the steering wheel. “What the fuck am I going to do? I did every last fucking thing that man ever asked of me! I’m screwed, Chad!”
“I’ll help you think of something. Don’t worry. You got this.” Chad gives me the pep talk I need as I drive away from Uncle James’s swank office in Manhattan. “Go have a few drinks, nails some hot chick, and we’ll work it out on paper tomorrow.”
I grimace and stare at the dashboard making the same expression I’d offer if Chad were here with me. “Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving asswipe. You’re supposed to be at your mother’s house.”
He laughs lightly, “She can wait.”
“She’ll kill you.” His mother is like Martha Stewart, pre-trial, on crack. Their estate home on the north shore of Long Island is pristine and the holiday will be exceptional, until Chad shows up in jeans and a T shirt instead of a tie. Formality isn’t dead, not in that house.
“Fine, then come with me. Eat turkey, talk turkey, and then poke your eye out with the wishbone, because my fucking Hallmark family is that boring. We’ll need some drama. If have to sit through another holiday meal and listen to shit about hedge funds, I’ll fucking snap.” His voice rises an octave as he speaks so fast that all the words run together.
Chad’s family has more money than God, but he doesn’t act like it. Not until he’s forced into the annual soul-sucking conversations about his future. When we were in college together, Chad nearly cracked from all the pressure put on him by his parents. Yeah, he has a set that’s still married after thirty-five years, which is a feat in of itself. At times, like holidays—like now, with all this shit raining down—it’s difficult to not be envious. He has meddling parents. I have an evil uncle. That’s it. No kin to call my own, no family watching my back come hell or high water. No cousins or brothers. Chad is my only family.
I assure him, “I’ll go with you. Calm the fuck down. Hedge funds are better than this shit.”
Chad laughs but there’s no joy in it. “I’d trade lives with you in a fucking heartbeat, Aiden.”
“Likewise buddy,” and I mean it, “but first, I need to get through this shit.”
“Tomorrow, Aiden.” He urges. “Tonight let your subconscious do all the thinking. Actually, let your dick do all the thinking. Pound some pussy and get smashed, in that order. It’ll give you something to be thankful for tomorrow.” Chad laughs and disconnects.
I sigh and rub my hand over my face. It’s not a bad plan, but I feel too wound up for that. I’m still pissed. By now I’ve driven so far out on the Island that I’m passing the county line into Suffolk. Shit. I’m it’s another hour to the summer house and an hour back to the city. When I took off, I was irate and started to drive without thinking about where I was going. All I could focus on was finding Ocean Parkway and letting the salty sea air fill my lungs as I gunned it down the road.
I groan and glance around. I left the Parkway behind a while ago, and am flying down an open stretch of Sunrise—a modest concrete wonder with six lanes that connects suburbia to the city. Buildings jut up from the landscape, nothing more than three stories. If you took Manhattan and tipped it over on it’s side, you’d have Long Island.
I drive like I have a destination in mind. I don’t want to go to the normal places tonight. I can’t face those people. They all know who I am, what I am. If they find out what happened, I won’t be able to bear it.
I drive a bit further and stop just outside of Bayshore, past the mall, in a sketchy part of town. I roll into the back parking lot of a bar and cut the engine. I strip off my jacket and tug on an old gray sweater I had laying on the passenger seat. It’s old and soft. Combined with a pair of shitckickers, I know I can handle myself.
When I walk into the establishment, I’m thinking bar fight. That’s why I stopped here. I need to beat the shit out of someone, and lose the anger building inside of me. This gutter looks like this is the perfect place to do it. But then, I spot this blonde in the corner with her nose in a book. Long tendrils of golden hair fall over her shoulders. Her face is perfect, fucking beautiful, not that I look at it too long because her tits are there in this red ribbed sweater, plump and perfect. I can imagine my hands on them as I kiss her senseless, spread her legs, and fuck her until she cries out in ecstasy.
I walk over to her and stop in front of her table. She’s reading a Chilton’s manual, which shocks the hell out of me. I pull out a well-worn wooden chair and sit without asking. “Light reading?”
She doesn’t glance up at me, just gives me the finger. “Fuck off, buddy. I’m not in the mood.” Her petite face remains downturned, her nose in that fatass book.
“Neither was I, until I saw you.” That makes her look up. She stops for a second, startled. I think she recognizes me, but then her eyes tell another story—blank. She has no clue who I am.
HOT GUY releases on NOV 15th, 2016
Reduced price during pre-order (reg. $6.99) now only $2.99