Brendan: A Scrooged Christmas
Table of Contents
Chapter One: Harper
Chapter Two: Harper
Chapter Three: Brendan
Chapter Four: Harper
Chapter Five: Brendan
Chapter Six: Harper
Chapter Seven: Brendan
Chapter Eight: Harper
Chapter Nine: Brendan
Chapter Ten: Harper
Epilogue
About the Author
Get More Scrooged!
Brendan
A Scrooged Christmas
Copyright © 2017 by Jennifer Domenico
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Brendan: A Scrooged Christmas is part of a collaborated collection by ten authors themed around a scrooged Christmas. Check out the blurbs at the end of this book for the following correlated authors: CP Smith, FG Adams, Jennifer Domenico, Jessika Klide, Julia Goda, Mayra Statham, Regina Frame, Tracie Douglas, and Winter Travers.
CHAPTER ONE: HARPER
CHAPTER TWO: HARPER
CHAPTER THREE: BRENDAN
CHAPTER FOUR: HARPER
CHAPTER FIVE: BRENDAN
CHAPTER SIX: HARPER
CHAPTER SEVEN: BRENDAN
CHAPTER EIGHT: HARPER
CHAPTER NINE: BRENDAN
CHAPTER TEN: HARPER
EPILOGUE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
GET MORE SCROOGED!
Chapter One: Harper
“Oh, Harper, I love it.” Elise squeezes me into a big hug. “It’s adorable and perfect for you.”
Smiling, I nod. “I love it too. I can’t believe I got it for this price in this neighborhood.”
“You deserve it. You work hard.”
“Thanks.” I exhale slowly looking ahead at my newly purchased townhome. “I can’t wait to get in there and paint and decorate and just make it my own.”
“Absolutely. Dad’s helping, right?”
“Yeah. You and Scott coming this weekend?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” Elise laughs, throwing back her mane of recently turned blonde hair. “Nothing like painting and cleaning to fill up a weekend.”
Putting my arm around her shoulder, I kiss my sister’s cheek. “It means a lot to me to have your help.”
“Don’t be silly. I’ll always be there for you. You know that.”
“Yeah.” I dig the key out of my wallet. “Well, let’s go inside.”
As we walk up the sidewalk, we pause as a sexy, black sports car pulling into the driveway next door grabs our attention. When the driver's side door opens, and one trouser covered leg pops out, we both watch, fixated on discovering the owner of this beauty. A man slides from the seat and stands, tossing his head back and running his fingers through dark hair being tousled from the chilly October wind. His back is to us as he reaches in the car, before shutting the door and standing upright again. Decked out in an expensive looking suit, he looks like he’s about to film an ad for that sexy car of his. He turns to go into his home, the home attached to mine on the right, and glances in our direction. Instead of smiling, removing his sunglasses, or speaking, he merely looks us up and down, nods briefly and walks briskly up the stairs to his unit, disappearing inside.
Elise and I stand transfixed on the sidewalk for a moment before she snaps out of it. "Um, I know I'm married but damn. Damn, Harper. That man was something else."
“Yeah.” I glance at his door. “From the car to the suit. Not very friendly though.”
“You don’t know that. He could just be busy or shy at first.”
“Or married or gay or all the other obstacles I stumble upon in my dating life.”
Elise smiles, tilting her head. “You’ll find the one for you when the time is right. You’re a unique and beautiful person, and not just any guy is good enough for you.”
“Thanks. I’m just bummed to be spending another Christmas as a single. I want to do all that fun couple stuff during the holidays, you know? Decorating the tree and ice skating and snow angels. Cuddling in front of the fire and drinking hot cocoa, snuggling on a cold morning. I want that.”
“I know, and I believe it’s coming for you soon. I really do.” She turns back toward my house. “Look at you already. Twenty-nine and buying your own place. You have a great career, you’re gorgeous, and you have the best sister on the planet.” I laugh. “You’re a catch, Harper.”
“I just need to find the man that agrees with you.”
“You will. If you want, I can bleach your hair like mine. It’ll be fun to do something different than dark.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “Blondes have more fun. Even married blondes.”
I roll my eyes. “You remember I’m not the experimental one. It looks great on you, but I like my natural brown hair just fine. Besides, my hair color isn’t the problem.”
Elise smiles. “There is no problem. When the time is right, he’ll show up. Now, let’s go inside. It’s chilly out here.”
"It is." We finish our walk to the front door. I unlock it and push it since it sticks a little. Once inside the foyer, a huge smile pulls at my lips. “I love it. It’s old and classic and full of charm.”
“It’s great. It suits you.” We walk around the house checking everything out. “When are the movers coming?”
“Eight in the morning. I’ll be able to sleep here tomorrow night.”
“Awesome. For now, you want to grab some dinner? It’s on me, Miss Homeowner.”
I offer a big smile. “I would love to.”
~~~
The next morning, I arrive at my new place around seven to start a pot of coffee and put away a few starter groceries I bought before the movers show up. It would be a great time to sweep the hardwood floors too before they move everything in. After pulling into my driveway, I glance at that sexy beast of a car before walking up the steps to my place. Our doors are inches apart, but something tells me Mr. Sexy is out of my league. There’s probably some ridiculously gorgeous supermodel in there with him wearing his dress shirt with perfectly just fucked hair. That’s his lane. Not someone like me who barely knows how to put on makeup. At least I know I’ll get chances to look at him from time to time.
After unlocking my door, I set down the bags I’m holding, propping the door open with them, then hurry back to my car to get the rest of my things. I grab as much as I can, not wanting to make another trip, and as I lumber awkwardly up the stairs, Mr. Sexy’s door opens, and there he is wearing a tight long-sleeved shirt and gray sweatpants. He looks at me struggling, and I’m expecting a show of chivalry, but what I get is a slightly annoyed look before he passes me and starts to run down the sidewalk. He’s a runner? He seems too perfect to sweat, but okay. He’s definitely not a nice person. Who sees a woman with her hands full and doesn’t help? I shrug and finish shoving myself through the door.
After getting the groceries put away, starting the coffee, and sweeping the main room, I hear a bunch of noise out front, so I put the broom down to see what's going on. Peering out my front door, I see the moving van finding an interesting angle to park on this narrow street and still have access to the house. I smile, excited to see them. It's official. I live here now.
I walk out to greet the movers, wrapping my arms aro
und myself in a feeble attempt to block the cold. As my eyes shift up to the gray sky, I’m positive it smells like impending snow. I hope it doesn’t start until well after my family gets safely home later tonight. A man jumps out of the passenger side and walks toward me with a clipboard in his hand. He tells me his name is John as he explains the price I was quoted and how long they expect to take. I don’t have much, so it shouldn’t be more than an hour or two.
As I’m walking back inside, Mr. Sexy comes running up the sidewalk, literally glaring in my direction.
“What the fuck is this?”
I pull my head back. “Really?”
“Yes, really. That truck is blocking my car.”
“Okay. If you need to leave you could politely ask them to move.”
“Or you could politely tell them not to block my fucking car.”
My eyes open wide. “Wow.”
“Wow, what?”
I study his face for a moment. In spite of his furrowed brow and sneer, he is spectacular. His shirt sticks to his muscles, sweaty from his run, as his hair hangs in his face. His eyes are a striking blue color, almost gray, and his skin is just slightly olive. He has just enough facial hair, but not so much I would call it a beard. If it weren't for his insanely rude demeanor, the man would be a god among men.
“Do you not know how to approach someone without being rude? We are neighbors, you know.”
He narrows his eyes. “Then you should want to be a good one and not get in my way.”
“I’ll ask them to move the damn truck so you can get to your precious car.”
“Good.”
He turns abruptly from me, pissing me off even more. “You’re welcome. Sorry about your penis.”
He swings around. “What did you just say?”
“I was just remarking on the significance of showy cars and male genitalia size.”
His eyebrow raises. “What exactly are you trying to say?”
I smile. “Nothing at all.”
He sighs, shaking his head as he opens his door and goes inside, slamming the door behind him. Well, that was awesome. I walk over to John and explain the situation. The two men quickly reposition the truck so it’s no longer blocking the car. I go inside, totally annoyed with that interaction. He would have to be the hottest man on the planet and a total dick. Perfect.
As I direct the furniture placement, my dad, sister, and brother in law file inside.
"Hi!" I wave and hug everyone. "Thanks for coming."
Dad rubs my shoulder. “Like we’d miss this.” He looks around for a moment. “You did good, kid.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Well,” he says. “Want to get started on the painting?”
“That sounds great. Oh, and the front door sticks.”
Dad chuckles. “On it.”
Elise wraps her arms around me. “Let’s make this place a home, shall we.”
“Let’s do it.”
~~~
Hours later, with painted walls, furniture in place, and a clean home, my eyes shift around the room. My dining table, an heirloom gifted to me after my grandmother’s passing, looks amazing in the space. It only needs a new chandelier to glam it up a bit.
“We should get going.” Dad peers out the window. “Snow is starting to come down pretty hard.”
“I was hoping it would give us a break, but I guess not.”
“You okay here tonight?”
I laugh softly. “I live here now, Dad.”
“Right.” He leans in to kiss my cheek. “Call if you need anything.”
"I will. Thanks, everyone."
I walk everyone to the door, and after more goodbyes and hugs, I decide to start a fire in my new place. It's a perfect night for it. After getting it going, I walk to the kitchen to start a pot of soup. As I cook, I hum a favorite Christmas song. The holidays are just around the corner, and I can't wait.
I grab a bowl and start to fill it when the lights flicker. Glancing up, I wait a moment before I’m plunged into darkness. Awesome. I peer out my back window and see lights on in surrounding houses. Maybe the fuse just needs to be reset. I have no idea where my flashlight is or where the breaker box is for that matter. Maybe Mr. Mean but Sexy can be helpful.
I pop out the front door and rap softly on his door, noticing the lights are also off. I don't hear anything, but his car is here, so hopefully, he's home. I knock again after a moment, taking a step back when he swings it open.
“Yes?”
“Um hi. The electricity is off.”
“I noticed.”
I exhale. “Okay, well I don’t know where the breaker box is. Can you help?”
“I’m working on it. It happens periodically. Old houses.”
“Right.”
“And you just added to its load.”
He delivers it like it’s my fault. “Someone lived here before me, right?”
“Yes.”
“Did you scare them off with your cheery personality?”
He narrows his eyes. “Just go back to your place. I’ll have it back on in a minute.”
“Want to tell me where it is so I can do it if you’re not home?”
“It’s out back. Dark grey box near the cellar door.”
“Thanks.”
Instead of replying, he just nods and goes back inside. Whatever. Still hot, but definitely still rude. I stand in front of my fireplace warming myself for a few minutes when the lights flicker back on. Well, at least he's useful for something. I hope the house can handle what I have planned for Christmas decorations.
Chapter Two: Harper
About a month later, just after Thanksgiving, I start to open all the boxes of Christmas decorations I’ve been hoarding for years. With just a week before December starts, I have to get busy. I lay everything out, organizing by type and color, and begin hanging ornaments on the gorgeous tree my family bought me as a housewarming gift. Christmas music fills my home, and I sing along enjoying every moment of this. I'm in my own house decorating my own tree. It's all mine. I don't have to compromise with anyone or change the colors or listen to something else. Even though he gave me my space as much as he could, after five years of staying with dad, my freedom feels even sweeter than it did when I moved out the first time. Unlike then, I can stand on my own two feet, thanks in large part to dad letting me live rent-free.
Happy as I am to be here now, those years with dad were important. No one could have predicted the hell he would go through or how close he was to giving up. I hate to think what would’ve happened if I hadn’t been there to pull him back. I shake my head to clear the sad thoughts away and immerse myself once again in my decorating.
~~~
The next morning, I open my door to leave for work at the exact same time as Mr. Sexy. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen him for more than a few seconds, and after our last interaction, I’m not really sure how to address him, so I quickly adjust the wreath on my front door to avoid eye contact. He stomps past me without a word. I turn and watch him slide into the seat of his car. When he starts it, a little thrill runs down my back. It sounds as sexy as it looks. I wish it didn’t have that effect on me. It’s so cliché. It’s the reason men like him buy cars like that. Clearly, it works.
After he pulls out of the drive, I make my way over to my sweet but humble sedan. It's boring, but it gets the job done. As I back out of the drive, I study the front of my house. I need to get to decorating the outside. I’m sure Mr. Sexy will just love that. I smile and sing along to Frosty the Snowman.
~~~
As I sit on the couch flipping through channels, I’m startled by loud knocking on my door. I stand up and walk over, opening the door to see Mr. Sexy. He looks completely pissed as usual.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?”
He glares in response holding out a stack of envelopes. "Apparently the mailperson can't read, and I’ve been getting your mail. Assuming you are Harper Rose of course.”
“Tha
t’s me.” I take them from him. “I was wondering why I wasn’t getting much mail.”
“You need to fix it and make sure they have your correct address.”
“Gee, is it such a hardship for you to speak to me and give me a few pieces of mail?”
“It is not a hardship. It’s just ridiculous as I’ve lived here for two years. They should know me by now.”
“It’s not my fault they don’t know you.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
“You’re sure acting like it is.”
“I’m not acting like anything.”
“I beg to differ.” I offer a fake smile. “I’ve lived here over a month, and all you can do is scowl, act put out, and be rude."
He looks at me as though he doesn’t understand what I just said. “Don’t judge me. You don’t even know me.”
“No, I don’t, but based on my interactions with you so far, I don’t want to.”
“That makes two of us.”
“Well don’t let me stop you from leaving.”
He pauses, not saying a word, but staring me down. I’m not even remotely intimidated by him. “You know what else? You play your stupid Christmas music too loud.”
I pull my head back. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously. I can hear it through my walls.”
“It’s not loud at all.”
"Well, I hate Christmas music."
“That’s too bad because it’s December so you’ll be hearing it a lot. I love Christmas, and this is my home, so I’ll play music if I want to.”
He exhales slowly as though he’s trying to calm himself down. “Then you won’t mind if I bang on your walls when you annoy me?”
“You can do whatever you want.”
“I know that.”
“You know what?” He crosses his arms, glaring at me as I speak. “You’re rude. I don’t like you, and I want you to leave and stop ruining my peaceful Sunday. Goodbye.” I shut the door without another word, but don’t even make it back to my couch before he’s knocking on it again. I stomp back and swing the door open. “What?”