Page 21 of Havoc for the Holidays

I laughed and shook my head in amusement. Ollie had mentioned how much she loved the decorations on the cottages. The fact that he'd backed out of helping had cut me to the bone. It seemed only fitting that our renewed promise to give our relationship a real chance would result in showing his daughter the decorations. Perhaps I had a holiday miracle to thank for it after all.

Chapter thirteen

Ollie

Between Ezechiel’s frantic worry over the showcase, my own stress and anxiety, and the sheer number of directions I found myself pulled in, there was a very high chance that I might lose my ever-loving mind before the end of the week. My kitchen was an utter disaster underneath the dozens and dozens of cookies and treats I somehow found myself responsible for providing at today's impromptu bake sale, which also happened to coincide with the first dress rehearsal. To say I was petrified would be an understatement.

Ez and I had managed only a couple of practice sessions for my debut as an untrained dancer. The extent of my dance experience was relegated to dimly lit clubs and my living room. Neither of those things got me anywhere close to where I needed to be as far as skill. Even my daughter literally danced circles around me as I tried to remember the ten thousand steps he’d beaten into my head through repetition with kisses as rewards for getting it right. It worked, to a degree. But a dancer I was not.

I scraped a dried glop of icing off the counter and tried once more to rid the surface of the thin film of snowy white flour, but the rest would have to wait if we had any hope of arriving on time with the treats still intact. I called for Becs as I grabbed the first stack of gift boxes filled with sugar cookies.

“Honey, get your coat and boots on. I'm taking stuff to the car!”

Her cry of agreement sounded muffled from her room, but at least she had heard me. Lord knows it would take her twice as long to find the items and get them on than it would for me to head to the parking lot and back, but this was likely one of many reminders she would need before we managed to leave the house.

I sighed as I stepped outside to find it snowing. I loved the snow, typically. But tonight, I didn't need the extra worry. Not after already having had to deal with car repairs because of road conditions. With my first stack of boxes tucked away in the trunk, I returned to the apartment to find my daughter embroiled in battle with a pair of winter boots. Unfortunately, the boots were winning.

“Do you need help, darling?”

“No! Yeah… sorry.” She flopped backward with a dramatic sigh amid a cloud of tulle courtesy of the tutu she refused to leave at the studio.

I laughed softly under my breath and crouched down beside her to readjust the footwear and loosen the lacing. Learning to tie shoes was still very much a work in progress. Once we had them all set, I helped her to her feet and zipped up her jacket.

“Grab your dance slippers and head to the car. I'll grab the last of the cookies and meet you there.” I kissed the tip of her nose and sent her on her way.

I followed after her once I had the precarious tower of boxes braced just right under my chin. If I never saw another Christmas cookie in my life, I'd die a happy man. I'd likely smell like a sugar cookie until the spring thaw at this rate. The fact that I couldn't fit them all in the trunk had me laughing under my breath again as I stacked the last few boxes in the passenger seat before racing around the front end of the car and sliding into the driver’s seat. We had just enough time on the clock to arrive with only a minute to spare.

After basically holding my breath for the entire drive, we made it exactly on time without incident. Maybe my lucky stars were in a favorable mood for once. Things were looking up even more so once Ez rushed out to help me unload the treats. Seeing him in his dancewear was always a treat and tonight was no exception. Slate grey dancer’s tights and a steely colored tunic shirt did things for his physique that transcended words. The fact that he was wearing a headband with mouse ears on it made the entire aesthetic even better. My smile caused an ache in my cheeks for how wide it was.

“Give me your keys. I will get all the boxes inside and lock up while you change. Your costume’s in the bag on my desk.”

I boggled at him in confusion for a moment before remembering he wasn't originally from Windhaven. “I left them in the ignition. I never lock my car, Ez. No one does.”

It was his turn to marvel at my statement. He blinked and tilted his head before shaking it with a crinkle of his nose. “Never. Nope. I'll grab the keys and lock it on my way in. Hurry.”

He shooed me away and I hurried to comply, weaving through the bodies that crowded the studio. Parents, children, teens. It was a massive amount of people and my nerves instantly reached the stratosphere as I ducked into Ez’ office and found the bag in question. Once I opened it and peered inside, I nearly choked on my own heart as it jumped into my throat.

A bright red jacket with gold accents wouldn't be terrible on its own, but the white tights were where I struggled the most. Ez could pull off dancer’s tights. Me? Not so much. Me in front of a room full of people? Definitely not. I dropped the bag and backed away from it as though it had physically burned me. When a knock pounded at the door a full five minutes later, I jumped with a squeak.

“Olls, babe. Hurry up.”

“Oh. Right. One second.” I eyed the bag warily. “Don't come in.”

To drive home my point, I reached across the tiny office and turned the lock on the door knob. With a whimper of defeat, I emptied the bag and began to strip out of my clothing. Thankfully, I had the forethought to wear briefs instead of boxers plus an undershirt. Unfortunately, the briefs were black. The blue satin sash was going to be hard pressed to do much about what was surely going to be a mortifying experience all around.

After a considerable amount of tugging, stretching, and calisthenics, I had the tights more or less on. Not that they covered much. Frankly, it was more of a second skin situation I wasn't prepared for. The amount of tucking that went into trying to minimize the bulge of my dick had me flushed and sweating. As expected, the blue waist sash did nothing to conceal the factthat I was blessed in the nether region—a fact that I did not take pride in for once. Ez’ choice of flowy tunic shirts made a lot more sense as I eyed my groin in disgust. It was definitely a weird moment I wouldn't soon forget.

It took every smidgen of willpower I possessed to unlock the door and open it. Stepping through was another feat I needed concerted effort to achieve. Lifting my head to make eye contact? Completely out of the question. In fact, the less I saw of the faces around me, the better. Especially as the whispers and giggles spread around the room like ripples over still water. I snuck to my position on the wing and kept my head bowed. The fact that I could still manage to breathe was a miracle in and of itself.

The need to focus on my marks and the faltering steps I had only mostly memorized offered a minimal distraction from the small audience of parents and students. It did nothing at all to keep their laughter and whispering from gnawing at my frayed nerves. I tried to convey my distress to Ez as we faced off for the battle between the Nutcracker and the Mouse King, but he either didn't notice or didn't care. I hoped it was the former as I caught his multiple quick glances toward my exceptionally revealing tights. All I could do was hope that the audience didn't see them as easily as I did.

I was a hot mess through the entire routine, and every single other routine I was part of. I was frustrated with myself, but even more upsetting was Ez’ mounting frustration as we neared the end of the first full dress rehearsal with the entire cast. As soon as our practice bows were done, he waved us off with a sigh. I couldn't leave the room fast enough. In a flash, I was locked back in the office and tearing the unforgiving garments from my body with trembling hands.

My breathing still hadn't slowed by the time I re-emerged and took up my position behind the table of cookies I'd spent the entire day baking and decorating. At least in that department,no one had a reason to laugh, but it didn't do much to quell the whispering. Instead of being able to put my embarrassment to rest, my night somehow took a turn for the worse—I didn't think it could get worse, but evidently I was wrong.

“Oliver? Oliver Branson? My goodness, it's been years.” Sarah Montgomery, the last person I wanted to see, stepped toward the table with a smile that felt all wrong. “I thought that was you. Little Rebecca is getting so big! She looks more and more like my Marissa every day.”

“Oh, uh. Hello, ma’am.” I tried for a smile but judging by how hot I felt under the collar of my sweater, I was ninety-nine percent positive it looked more like I was about to vomit. Honestly, it wasn't completely out of the question.

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