Rebel Without A Claus

By Denise Wells

I'm the guy who never brings a date to a holiday party.

But meeting someone at a holiday party? That's a different story, apparently.

Because this guy I just undressed with the my eyes? Whose touch ignited a fire in my soul when his fingers brushed against mine? He's one I'm prepared to break all my own rules for.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Denise Wells
• Release date: Nov 9, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201846299

Denise Wells

Denise has been reading since before she could talk. And to this day, escaping into a book is her go-to activity before anything else.She likes to write about sassy women and semi-flawed alpha-esque men (hard on the outside and just a little soft on the inside.) Denise’s female characters always have strong friendships, potty mouths, and like to drink—a lot.Denise is loyal to a fault, a bit too sarcastic, blindingly optimistic, and pretty freakin’ happy with life overall. If she couldn't be a writer, she'd be a singer in a classic rock band. Right after she learned to carry a tune. She has more purses than days in the month, an obsession with colored ink pens, and a slightly unhealthy bracelet habit.Home is in the Pacific Northwest where she lives with five Siberian Huskies and a husband (BW) who has the patience and tolerance of a saint. And, lest she forget, Denise also lives with too many to count characters inside her head, who will eventually have their stories told.For more about Denise visit her website at: www.DeniseWells.comOr follow her on any of the social media sites below.facebook.com/denisewellsauthortwitter.com/denisewellsinstagram.com/denisewellsauthoramazon.com/author/denisewellsbookbub.com/authors/denisewellsauthorgoodreads.com/denisewellspinterest.com/denisewellsauthor

Book preview

Introduction

I’m the guy who never brings a date to a holiday party. But meeting someone at one is a different story, apparently.

The bartender I undressed with my eyes? Whose touch ignited a fire in my soul when his fingers brushed against mine?

He’s the one I’m prepared to break all my own rules for.

1

Kris

Kriisss. Jeanette draws my name out, like she always does, in the exact way I’ve told her I hate. Is that mistletoe you’re standing under? Her voice is sing-songy, which is understandable when talking to a puppy or an infant, but not a twenty-seven-year-old man.

Jeanette, hey. I step to the side. Just in case I was under mistletoe, I won’t be any longer. I can only hope I’ve moved far enough.

Don’t look up. If the mistletoe is there, she’ll know that you know.

Of course, the minute I tell myself not to look up, that’s exactly what I want to do. Even though I know the consequences if I do. Because with Jeanette, if I look up and the mistletoe is there, her rationale for trying to kiss me will be reinforced. And if there’s anything that she doesn’t need further reason for, it’s trying to kiss me. I should have brought a date with me. That would have forced her to stay away.

Instead, I’m forced to try and avoid the mistletoe that seems to be hanging from the ceiling at five-foot intervals. This is a fucking (family owned) company holiday party for god’s sake, we don’t kiss each other. I’ll have to talk to my sister—she plans all our events—and make sure it doesn’t happen again.

Jeanette sidles up next to me, rubbing her breasts against me as she grabs my biceps with both hands. It’s all I can do not to shudder with distaste. Because, one, even if I were straight, Jeanette would not be my type, she’s far too forward. And, two, I’m not straight. She knows this, she just chooses to ignore it. Especially when we aren’t at work, where she’s one of two assistants to my father.

Which is why we are both at the annual Coleman Department Stores’ corporate holiday party. Me as the newly anointed general manager—a position I’ve been groomed for since childhood following in my father’s footsteps, his fathers before him, and so on.

You look positively edible, she effuses. I try to pull my arm away to no avail, so I head toward the bar, dragging her right along with me. Because if I must spend the evening with Jeanette glued to my side, I’m going to have a drink while I do it.

Bourbon, neat. The bartender’s head is down as I say it, so it’s not until I hear him repeat my order that I pay him any attention.

One bourbon, neat, a deep, gravelly voice says. I turn to look as he places my glass on a red cocktail napkin and slides it toward me. Then take a minute to drink him in, dark blond hair cut shorter in the back with the longer front portions gelled back and out of his face. A hint of five-o’clock shadow decorates his jawline, and a tight white shirt stretches across his impressive chest.

My fingers graze his as I take it, and I’m shocked by the jolt of energy that buzzes through me. My eyes shoot up to his; he looks as surprised as I am. This wasn’t any old jolt; I’m electrified. He raises a brow in interest, blue eyes twinkling with awareness in the lowered light of the party.

It makes me wish I could see behind the bar and below his waist. The catering staff is all wearing white shirts, black ties, and black slacks. If his slacks fit anything like his shirt, I’ll know in a matter of seconds whether he’s someone I want to get to know better.

Thanks, I tell him, my fingers still touching the tips of his on the glass.

My pleasure, he responds. I hold his gaze a moment longer before turning away to let him help the party guests behind me. My pulse races and I feel out of breath; signs of lust, absolutely. But there was something in his eyes that made me want to get to know him as well. I just didn’t have the time to name what it was I saw to make me think that.

I drag Jeanette to the other side of the room without offering to get her a drink. It’s rude, sure, but at some point, she needs to take a hint. Leaning back against the far wall, I take up residence where I have a straight shot view of the bar and the blond. I try again to tug my arm away from Jeanette’s grasp; she holds on tighter and leans in to nuzzle my neck.

You smell so good, Kriisss, what cologne is that?

Probably something we sell at the store, I say, referring to the flagship store here in downtown. The top floor is devoted to the executive offices which is also where we happen to be hosting the party.

Jeanette, you know that I’m gay, right? I lean in to whisper in her ear.

Don’t worry, she says. It’s just a phase, we can take care of that for you.

I scoff. How exactly would that work?

Once you’re with a real woman, such as myself, you won’t feel the need to experiment any longer.

I’m not experimenting. And I’m definitely not attracted to you.

You will be.

I won’t be. I like men. I like to fuck men. Vaginas repulse me.

She laughs at that.

Laughs. As though I’ve made a joke. This is what I’m up against with her. She’s batshit crazy, I swear.

My sister, Kelly, approaches and leans against the wall on my other side opposite from Jeanette. Her long dark hair pulled up in a sleek chignon and long body encased in a sparkling dress. She’s wearing a lot more makeup tonight than she usually does, highlighting her naturally beautiful girl-next-door looks and the overall effect is glamorous.

How’s it going? Kelly asks with a smirk.

Really? I raise my eyebrows.

I got you. Kelly sighs then pushes herself from the wall and leans over me to get Jeanette’s attention. Jeanette, I need to visit the restroom. Join me?

I’ll be right back Kriisss. Jeanette pats my forearm as she disengages.

Kelly’s one of my best friends, if not my best. We are close in age at eleven months apart, and even though she’s older, we look like we could be twins. We share the same dark hair and dark eyes as our father, and we are both tall and thin like our mother.

Kelly has a great head for business and has the choice to one day head the entire administrative division of the Coleman Companies. But she hasn’t decided if that’s what she wants to do. So, until then, she works part-time and focuses more on her family. Taking on small projects for the company here and there.

I finish my bourbon and head for the bar for a refill. Only to be stopped by my father and two other gentlemen from the board of directors.

Kris, join us, won’t you? My father lays a hand on my shoulder, the gesture is soft, but the meaning behind it is not. Because when my father makes a ‘suggestion,’ it’s really an order.

I step into the small circle of men, all of whom are my bosses in a way, my father as CEO and the other gentlemen as board members. My grandfather still holds his seat as chair of the board, a position that will be mine one day. After it’s my father’s, of course.

I answer all their questions about holiday sales performance across the board, the annual holiday parade hosted by our flagship store each year, as well as a few others that could have wait until another time. But I am nothing if not an obedient