A Muffin Top Christmas Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  A Muffin Top Christmas

  Chapter 1: Vincent

  Chapter 2: Evey

  Chapter 3: Vincent

  Chapter 4: Evey

  Chapter 5: Vincent

  Chapter 6: Evey

  Chapter 7: Vincent

  Chapter 8: Evey

  Chapter 9: Vincent

  Chapter 10: Evey

  Epilogue: Evey

  BONUS: The Muffin Top Cookbook

  Vincent's Blueberry Muffins

  Vincent's Cherry-Cherry Cupcakes

  Evey's Muffin Bombs

  Vincent's Candy Corn

  Mary Silva's Peppermint Snickerdoodles

  Also by Tabatha Kiss

  About the Author

  A

  MUFFIN TOP

  CHRISTMAS

  TABATHA KISS

  Copyright © 2016 by Tabatha Kiss

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form

  without written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction intended for mature audiences only.

  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All characters detailed within are eighteen years of age or older.

  No characters engaging in sexual acts are blood-related.

  WARNING: This novella contains explicit descriptions of

  erotic and sexual acts that some may find offensive,

  including perverse adult language.

  Reader discretion advised.

  tabathakiss.com

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  please click here: hyperurl.co/tabathakiss

  A MUFFIN TOP CHRISTMAS

  BY TABATHA KISS

  Naughty or nice.

  Why not both?

  He’s a bad boy with a bakery.

  She’s a BBW with a bar.

  And they just had a baby.

  ‘Twas the night before Christmas,

  when all through the bakery,

  not a creature was stirring,

  except a six-month-old boy named Zachary.

  The condoms were stashed in the bedroom with care,

  in the hopes that my Evey would soon be there.

  When out in the alley there rose such a clatter,

  I sprang from my kitchen to see what was the matter.

  Away to the bar I raced with such dread,

  to find my Evey with a gun to her head…

  BONUS! Includes The Muffin Top Cookbook — five recipes from Boston’s favorite bakery!

  Chapter 1

  Vincent

  “‘Twas the night before Christmas…

  when all through the bakery…

  not a creature was stirring…”

  I pause and glance up from the cookie sheet.

  “Except a six-month-old boy named Zachary.”

  My infant son stares at me from his highchair with a blank expression. A tiny Santa hat sits atop his head, barely hanging on by a string beneath his chin.

  “Nothing?” I ask him as I shape the cookie dough into little balls. “No chuckle?”

  He blinks.

  “That was pretty good,” I say. “Your mom would have laughed.”

  He falls back to look at the ceiling and the hat slips off his head onto the floor.

  I grab a dish towel to wipe the cookie dough from my hands before bending down to pick it up.

  “Here…” I kneel beside him and fit the thing back on his head, obscuring the stubborn tuft of brown hair beneath it.

  The white ball hangs down from the hat’s tip and instantly finds its way into my son’s mouth.

  I sigh and look at the clock on the wall.

  It’s almost eleven. He should be asleep by now but bedtime schedules matter very little to a teething infant. Plus, it’s Christmas Eve, the one night of the year when children get a pass. I never slept on Christmas Eve either. I couldn’t. Too much excitement. But this year, it’s not the promise of stocking stuffers and Santa’s sleigh sightings keeping my adrenaline pumping.

  The oven buzzes on the wall and I grab a mitt.

  “The condoms were stashed in the bedroom with care,” I say, sliding the latest batch of cookies out. “In the hopes that your mother would soon be there.”

  I look at my child again. This time, he laughs.

  “Trust me, buddy, you wouldn’t be laughing if you spoke English.”

  I take a sip from my mug of fresh, hot cocoa before turning my attention back to my cookies but I can’t stop my thoughts from drifting to that condom stash.

  Six months. That’s how long it has been. Six months of near-hourly feedings, of sleepless nights and exhausting days. I wake up early to open Muffin Top while Evey takes care of Zachary and I take him while she works into the night at Ryan’s Place next door. We sleep when we can but that ain’t often.

  I’d never change a moment of it, and neither would she, but it’s been tough on both of us in many ways. Even more so on Evey, as the pregnancy and birth did quite the number on her; physically and emotionally. She hasn’t been in the mood much, and when she is it’s too painful to go all the way, but I don’t blame her. Zachary wasn’t exactly small (nine pounds, nine ounces, just like I was). We’re still intimate in other ways but nothing like those times when she would pull me off the bakery floor in the middle of the day, desperate to induce labor.

  But now, Evey’s ready. Six months of healing and riding waves of hormones and she’s finally ready to go for it again. When she told me a week ago, I nearly jumped out of my jeans, but she stopped me and suggested that we make it special instead.

  Christmas Eve.

  The bar is closing early — and by early, I mean midnight. She’ll shut down, come home across the alleyway, and we’ll do a few fun, holiday traditions with Zachary. This is our family’s first Christmas, after all.

  We’ll set out some milk and cookies for Santa Claus, read him chapters from A Christmas Carol, and lull him to sleep with some jingling bells. He won’t remember any of it, obviously, but we will. Memories like this are worth everything, as I’ve learned over the last year of watching him grow. Inside and outside of the womb.

  Then, I’ll scoop Evey up for a little naughty fun under the mistletoe.

  Unless…

  I step towards the highchair and lean down to look my son in the eyes.

  “The children were nestled all snug in their beds… and that’s where they stayed.”

  Zachary stares back at me.

  “Please.”

  He blinks.

  “Seriously, buddy. Give daddy a break for one hour. I need this.”

  A knock strikes the back exit. I look at the clock again as my blood rushes to prematurely wake my groin. It’s still early but maybe Evey talked Tommy into closing up for her and snuck back to surprise me.

  I pull the door open and my pulse settles. “Oh, hey, Anna.”

  “Hey, little brother.”

  My sister stands with her arms wrapped tightly around her chest. Thick snowflakes cover her dark hair and shivering shoulders.

  I step to the side to let her in. “Everything okay?”

  She bolts in from the cold and shakes the snow off. “It’s freaking freezing.”

  “That’s Boston.”

  “And the streets are horrible.”

  “Again… Boston.”

  “And I’m pretty sure I just broke up a drug deal,” she says, “but it’s Christmas, so I let it slide.”

  “Anna…” I grab my mug of cocoa and hand it to her. “What’s up? I thought you
weren’t coming until lunch tomorrow.”

  She cradles the mug in her hands. “I know, but I, uh…” Her eyes fall on Zachary and she smiles. “I was just sitting at home… alone…”

  I nod. “Ahh.”

  “Thinking about how alone I am.”

  “Go ahead.”

  She forces the mug back into my hands and rushes over to her nephew. “Hey, Zach-attack!” she says, sliding him out of the highchair. “Auntie Anna is here!”

  I laugh and return to my cookies, watching with one eye as she paces around the kitchen with him. “You can’t stay,” I say. “As soon as Evey gets home, you gotta go.”

  She glares. “Why?”

  “Because we have plans.”

  “What kind of plans?”

  “Christmas Eve plans.”

  “Well, I can join in on your reindeer games!” She lifts Zachary in front of her face. “Yeah, Daddy!” she says, mimicking a baby’s voice. “I love my Auntie Anna and I want her to stay and play with me!”

  She spins him around to blow a raspberry on his belly, making him laugh even harder and they babble incoherently back and forth to each other.

  One of Boston’s toughest homicide detectives, ladies and gentlemen.

  “Evey and I want some time alone tonight,” I say, staying vague. “It’s our first Christmas with Zach, you know?”

  “So, you’re having sex, then?”

  I set the sprinkles down. “God, I hope so.”

  She laughs. “Well, no worries. I’ll be out of your hair long before then. I just wanted to stop by for a few minutes. Figured you’d be waiting up for the bar to close.”

  “Because of loneliness?”

  “That, and…” She lowers Zachary into his highchair and pulls up a stool to sit beside him. “I dunno, I always think about Mom this time of year, you know?”

  I offer her a cookie. “Yeah, I know.”

  Anna takes a bite and smiles. “Speaking of… that’s her peppermint snickerdoodle, isn’t it?”

  “It is.”

  She breathes a laugh. “Remember that time she made two batches? One of us and one for the adults-only Christmas party?”

  “With vanilla vodka,” I grin. “We switched the boxes when she wasn’t looking.”

  She laughs harder. “We got in so much trouble but she didn’t punish us…”

  “Because the two hours we spent throwing up was punishment enough,” I recall.

  “I still can’t stand the taste of vodka.” Her smile lingers on Zachary. “I wish she could have met him.”

  I pause as tears swell in her eyes. “Anna, you okay?”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  My jaw drops. “What?”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  “What?”

  She drops the cookie on the highchair tray and stands up. “Okay, say something else, please.”

  “What?”

  “Vin!”

  “I’m sorry, I just…” I smile wide. “My sister is having a kid?”

  Her eyes blink quickly, panic rising. “I am.”

  “When?”

  “Oh, about nine months from…” she thinks hard, “four weeks ago? I mean, it’s still really early but—”

  I rush forward and throw my arms around her. “Holy crap.”

  “Uh-huh,” she murmurs with her face pressed against my chest.

  “That’s amazing, Anna.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Zach’s getting a cousin to play with.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Wait—” I lean back and release her. “I didn’t know you were seeing anybody.”

  “Yeah, I’m not.”

  I furrow my brow. “Then, who’s the…?”

  Anna takes a huge breath but the panic lingers in her eyes. “Donor number seven-one-three-four dash B.”

  My jaw drops again. “You got a donor?”

  “No, wait, dash C,” she adds. “Donor number seven-one-three-four dash C.”

  “Why?”

  She throws up her hands. “I don’t know! It seemed like a good idea at the time but now I’m freaking out.”

  I put pressure on her shoulders to guide her back onto the stool. “Okay, rewind four weeks. What happened?”

  She grabs the cookie again and takes a huge bite. “I was happy. Like, really happy. Highest clearance rate in the precinct — one of the best in the city. On track for Captain. Captain, Vincent. Remember how I used to make a captain star out of construction paper and pin it to my shirt?”

  “I do,” I say, nodding.

  “I just had to keep my eye on the prize for a few more years and then all of my dreams would come true…” She pauses and looks at her hand. “Damn, that’s a good cookie.”

  “Okay, how did you get from the police department to the sperm bank?”

  “I drove.”

  “Anna.”

  She gnaws on the cookie’s edge. “I never thought about kids,” she continues. “It wasn’t part of my plan.”

  “So, what changed?” I ask.

  Her eyes drift to Zachary again. “Just look at him.”

  I do and my heart melts as Anna’s does. He’s pulled the hat completely off again but one corner is stuffed in his mouth.

  Anna fluffs the hair on his head. “I started seeing them everywhere,” she says. “I mean, kids are usually everywhere but I never paid much attention to them until now. Suddenly, they were cute. Every little thing they did was adorable. Even screaming kids at the grocery store were endearing and you know how much I hate screaming kids.”

  I blink. “Whoa.”

  “Yeah, whoa. I started picturing what it’d be like to have one and…” she sighs, “I didn’t want to wait. I didn’t want to force my way through loser after loser to find the perfect dad and — oh my god, it sounds so stupid when said out loud!”

  “You’re not stupid, Anna,” I say. “Calm down.”

  “What the hell was I thinking, Vin?” She stares at the floor with catatonic eyes. “I’m screwed.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “My career is over. The dream is dead.”

  “Plenty of Captains have kids, Anna,” I point out. “This isn’t the end of the world.”

  “I need another cookie.”

  I hold out the plate. She slides one off and shoves it into her mouth. I stare between her and Zachary, each one softly chewing. The family resemblance is pretty uncanny.

  “What do I do?” she asks, her lips covered with white and red peppermint dust.

  I set the plate down and walk over to lay my arm around her shoulders. “You have a baby.”

  “And then, what?”

  “And then, you raise it,” I answer.

  She swallows. “Alone?”

  “No. You’re not alone.” I give her arm a squeeze. “You’ve got me and you’ve got Evey and we’ll walk you through it.”

  “Is it easy?” she asks. “You guys make it look easy.”

  “No. It’s not.”

  Her head falls. “You were supposed to say yes.”

  “Well…” I grab another stool and drag it closer to sit down in front of her. “I’m not going to sugar-coat it, Anna. Parenting is really hard. Sometimes, it’s damn near impossible. No matter how prepared you think you are, you aren’t. Not by a long shot. Just when you think you’ve got it all figured out, the kid goes and does something that equally amazes and scares the hell out of you and you lose another night’s sleep over it.

  “Your life is forever changed. Your worldview shifts completely. They’re in every thought, every dream; every breath you take is for your child but you manage. You keep going because if you don’t then the kid dies of starvation and you spend the rest of your life in jail where it becomes increasingly more difficult to get laid than it already is.”

  Anna stares at me for several silent moments. Finally, she sighs and leans forward to grab the plate off the counter.

  “Cookie?” she offers.

  I snatch one
and take a large bite.

  Chapter 2

  Evey

  “You sure I can’t get you anything else?”

  The faceless man at the end of the bar doesn’t look up. A black hat rests on his head, casting shadows over his eyes, and a thick scarf covers the rest. His glass has been empty for the last hour and he’s been staring into it the entire time.

  He raises a gloved hand and waves me away.

  I show him a kind smile before moving to fetch a few empty glasses from the other end.

  It’s Christmas Eve in Boston. Every year, we get at least one of them; the dark types with nowhere else to go that just want to suffer through the holiday in silence. I usually don’t mind. They like to keep their glasses full, but not this guy…

  I carry a few empties to the sink in the corner and stop, sighing with annoyance as I see the dishes still stacked up like crazy.

  “Tommy!” I shout, taking a quick glance around the crowded bar.

  Ryan’s Place is packed tonight. Snowed-in college kids, mostly, but they’re thirsty. An overabundance of dirty glasses means I have to stay here late to clean up and I have plans tonight, dammit.

  Six months. Six months of healing and sleep deprivation. Six months of “Goodnight, Evey” and “Good morning, Vincent” at shift change. I regret nothing about becoming a mother but there’s one thing I definitely miss about our pre-baby relationship.

  I look at the clock on the wall. 11:15. One more hour and I’m out of here.

  God, I miss sex.

  Not that we haven’t tried, of course, but my body didn’t exactly spring back to its old self after Zachary and our schedules don’t translate well to long, passionate, love-making sessions.

  But tonight, we have a plan. Solid. Bulletproof. My doctor gave me the all-clear from the post-birth complications. I feel good. I look good. My blonde hair actually behaved today. I’ve got my bad morning skirt on, which finally fits me again after losing some baby weight. I’m as ready to go as Vincent was months ago. We just have to wear Zachary out enough so that he stays asleep through the night.

  Please, Zach. Mommy needs this.