Naughty-ish
With the name Holliday, you’d think I’d be all about the Christmas season. Most years, I am, but this one not so much. Between my ex being a real Scrooge-in-the-backside, re-entering the workforce, wrangling my two children, and evading my eight-year-old’s questions about Santa’s existence, I’m struggling to believe in the magic myself.
Enter Nick, my next-door neighbor. My very hot, single, fireman neighbor. He’s full of the seasonal spirit from hanging my outdoor Christmas lights to playing Santa for the local church breakfast.
Funny thing about Nick, he kind of resembles the man in red, in a younger, sexier, silver fox way, complete with snow in his beard but rather tight abs suggesting cookies are not part of his diet when they are a staple of mine.
Anywho, he’s sweet in a rugged sense, and if he were the man making a list and checking it twice, I’d like to be in his naughty column. Because something tells me being a little naughty-ish with Nick from next door might bring me tidings of comfort and restore my joy in this season.
When he discovers I have a seasonal list myself, he’s determined to help me accomplish all the to-dos, only falling in love with my next-door neighbor wasn’t one of them.
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