Perfectly Merry

  Perfectly Merry

  A Perfect Match Short

  EmKay Connor

  Contents

  About the Book

  A Message from the Author

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  About the Book

  Cambria Livingston has come close to finding her perfect match…twice. But fate intervened each time, snatching away the happy ever after Cammy has dreamed of for years. Good thing her BFF is a sure thing. Except lately, there’s been something different between her and Tommy. Friends and neighbors for almost five years, she’s suddenly aware of things she never used to notice—like how broad his shoulders are and the way his eyes crinkle at the corner when he laughs.

  Tommy Edwards loves women but loathes commitment. Too many strings tie a guy down. However, for all his efforts to avoid messy entanglements, he seems to deal with a lot of dating drama. Life would be so much easier if more women were like his gal pal, Cammy—funny, honest, uncomplicated, and not afraid of a little dog hair on jeans that hug lush, curvy hips meant to fill a guy’s hands.

  It will take a Christmas miracle for Cammy and Tommy to find a lost dog and discover best friends sometimes make the best lovers.

  A Message from the Author

  Cambria Livingstone was initially cast as Luke Chapman’s soul mate in Miss Match, book 2 in the Perfect Match series, but this sweet Southern gal soon realized Luke was meant for someone else. She’s still waiting for her one and only…and he might be closer than she realizes.

  I hope you enjoy this sexy sassy, friends-to-lovers holiday short romance.

  Thanks for reading!

  For my BFF, Thomas W.

  I miss our cawfee dates.

  1

  “Fa la la la la, la la la la!” Cammy Livingstone sang along with the traditional Christmas carol, not caring that she was tone deaf and half a beat behind the tempo. It was late Christmas Eve afternoon, and dammit, she was going to have a Merry Christmas, no matter what.

  No matter that her parents were on a cruise instead of home for a family celebration. No matter that she’d had to work three days of her holiday break to land a big donor for the private university where she worked as a fund development specialist. No matter that her tree was shedding needles worse than her neighbor’s dog shed hair. And no matter that, once again, she was alone under the mistletoe.

  Her heart clenched as she thought of Patrick. They’d only had one Christmas together before he was diagnosed with esophageal cancer and gone nine months later. Their courtship had been fast, aided by the matchmaking expertise of a software program developed by Cammy’s friend, Harper.

  Patrick had been her second perfect match, after a false-positive that landed her on a nationally televised reality show. Harper, the genius behind the matchmaking technology, had ended up with Cammy’s first match, a wealthy tech mogul named Luke Chapman.

  The ache in her chest eased as she glanced over to the greeting cards displayed on the white marble mantel above her fireplace. She smiled as she took in the family photo on the card from Luke and Harper. The image included the happy couple and their young children, Samson who was now four, and True, a chubby six-month old, on a rocky California beach.

  Someone special was out there waiting for her. She’d seen Harper’s technology work but wasn’t opposed to falling in love the old-fashioned way—meeting by happenstance, getting acquainted, dating, and letting the feelings develop naturally. Her connection with Patrick, and even with Luke to a lesser degree, had been instantaneous. Not all relationships worked that way, but she was open to anything.

  Almost anything, she amended. No way did she want to serial date like Tommy, her neighbor and best bud. Speaking of her BFF, she wondered what his plans were for the holiday. Probably letting his girlfriend-du-jour unwrap his package.

  “Alexa, play ‘Santa Baby’ by Mariah Carey.” Cammy pounded on the wall connecting her townhome to Tommy’s and began singing loudly. It only took a few seconds before Ginger, Tommy’s rambunctious golden retriever, starting howling in duet.

  She heard muffled hollering and giggled. Tommy had a laidback, easygoing temperament except when it came to her off-key singing and his dog’s soulful baying. She set aside the box of glass ornaments she’d been hanging on the tree, still mostly bare, and hurried to her back door.

  The view through the glass slider leading out to her small backyard revealed banks of dark, heavy clouds. The forecast was unseasonably frigid for Atlanta, with the threat of icy rain and sleet on top of the layer of snow that had already fallen. She shivered, glad she wasn’t traveling for the holiday, and slid on her Uggs. The flannel shirt and thermal long-sleeve tee she wore would be enough for the quick trip next door.

  She opened the sliding glass door, shivering as a brutal gust of air blew indoors. Scurrying across her patio, she pulled the latch on the side gate and dashed through Tommy’s yard. She caught sight of Ginger’s feathery tail as the animal bolted out of the doggie door and made a beeline for a gap in the wide gateway that led out to the parking area of the townhome complex.

  “Ginger! Come back!” She froze, torn between chasing after the dog and alerting Tommy. Ginger was notorious for sneaking out and exploring the neighborhood. Most of the time, it was an inconvenience. With the threat of bad weather and oncoming darkness of evening, the risks for Ginger getting hit by a car, lost, or injured quadrupled.

  “Damn critter,” she muttered, stomping back to Tommy’s door. She knocked but didn’t wait for permission to enter. It was a courtesy knock, in case he was naked or entertaining a female guest. Except for the logistics of construction, it was as if their two homes were one unit for as often as they were back and forth between each other’s residences.

  Tommy worked long shifts at the bar he owned in quaint downtown Marietta, walking distance from their townhomes. When Cammy had first moved in, she offered to walk Ginger on the nights he worked. Soon, she began bringing the dog to her place. As their friendship developed, the boundaries diminished until they exchanged keys and security system passcodes.

  Tommy was handy when it came to fixing minor home repairs and gave her someone to cook for. When he was between girlfriends, they spent time together watching sports or working on flea market finds she liked to repurpose. Together, they had a knack for creating projects that sold for wildly inflated prices to the shoppers who prowled Marietta’s art galleries and antique shops in search of funky, artsy furniture and home décor.

  None of that was on her mind as she burst through the door, calling his name. “Tommy. Ginger got out and took off.”

  She came to an abrupt stop when a tall, stacked blonde in a red spangly minidress presented herself in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. “Who the hell are you?”

  A modest five foot two, Cammy was forced to lift her chin to meet the woman’s chilly blue gaze. “I’m the neighbor. But I can guess who you are.”

  2

  “Hey, Cam.”

  Tommy thundered down the stairs, swinging around the newel post and offering her a high five. She automatically slapped palms, glancing between the hot blonde and looking off in the direction Ginger had gone.

  “There’s a problem with your dog,” the woman said, brushing non-existent dog hair from her dress. “Maybe your neighbor lady can handle it. We need to leave or we’re going to be late for the party. Daddy doesn’t like it when guests arrive late. It’s rude.”

  Cammy wanted to point out her lack of concern about Ginger was rude but bit back the words. She’d met a handful of the women who passed through the revolving door that led to Tommy’s bedroom but didn’t usual
ly respond with immediate dislike. Something about the blonde—maybe the way she hid her disdainful examination of the fluff accumulated around the baseboards or the condescending way she spoke to Tommy—made her spittin’ mad.

  “Sure. Y’all just run along. I’m sure it won’t take but a minute to track down that ol’ rascal dog. And if’n I don’t, no biggie. Folks’ll probably just call Animal Control. Or nab her for a last minute gift t’ surprise their little’uns.”

  Tommy cocked a brow. He knew her well enough to realize something—or someone—had pissed her off…big time. Her Southern drawl only came out when she was mad as a wet hen.

  “We have plenty of time to get across town,” he assured the blonde, settling his hand in the small of her back to steer her into the living room. “Finish your champagne. I’ll go with Cammy and be back before you can say Jolly Old St. Nicholas.”

  The woman tilted her head and looked up at Tommy with a flirtatious expression, completely ignoring Cammy. “Hurry up or I’ll find something to lick besides your candy cane.”

  How did a guy as smart as Tommy not hear the sharp edge of manipulation in her tone? Or was she so hot in bed that it didn’t matter?

  The image of Tommy sliding a tender hand beneath the woman’s long hair to cup her head for a languid, masterful kiss caused her stomach to churn. She and Tommy had never come close to anything romantic, but he moved with charismatic sensuality that was alluring and seductive. She’d seen it in action at the bar. Women of all ages came onto him, and he treated each of them as if they were a divine goddess.

  It was a gift, and if this snotty blonde didn’t appreciate it, she didn’t deserve it.

  “Ginger.” Cammy crossed her arms impatiently and nodded toward the back door.

  “Where’s your coat?” Tommy’s tone shifted from sultry persuasion to practical exasperation.

  “I didn’t wear one,” she drawled. “I wasn’t plannin’ on chasing down yer dog. Why was the gate open anyway?”

  “Oops.” The blonde trilled a small guilty-not-really-guilty laugh. “I might have left it open.”

  “Ginger’s an escape artist,” he said soothingly. “Next time you’ll remember to close it, I’m sure.” He tugged a heavy canvas jacket from a peg near the back door and tossed it in Cammy’s direction then pulled on a parka over his dress shirt and tie. “Let’s go.”

  Cammy fumbled the zipper up to her chin, inhaling the scent of tobacco, beer, fresh air, and cologne. Familiar, homey, comforting smells she associated with Tommy.

  Her gaze flicked up and she caught the blonde eyeing her suspiciously.

  “Hurry back,” she said in a voice dripping with promise.

  The minute they were out the door and across the yard, she burst out with, “Where the heck did you find that one? Bimbos-R-Us?”

  “Me-ow,” he quipped back, head swiveling to scan the parking lot. “Which direction was Ginger headed in when you saw her?”

  “Toward the park.” That was where they usually found the dog when she escaped the yard.

  “Of all nights,” Tommy grumbled. “You may not approve of Priscilla, but her father is on the Marietta zoning commission.”

  “You know better than to mix business and pleasure.” They jogged over pavement that was becoming slick with the slight icy drizzle that had begun to fall. Cammy was glad she’d pulled on her boots and not the Crocs she usually slipped on for quick trips next door.

  “I didn’t realize the connection until Pris invited me to her family’s annual Christmas Eve gathering.” Tommy peered into the misty gloom and called out Ginger’s name. “I’ve been a good boy this year. Enough of the Mr. Nice Guy stuff; it’s time to get naughty.”

  “You could have both if you tried out Harper’s app.” Cammy had been hounding Tommy to enter his profile into the Virtual Cupid dating app Harper and Luke Chapman had developed, based on the software program used for the Perfect Match reality dating show. “Don’t you want to meet someone you can have a lasting relationship with instead of bed hopping?”

  “Monotony, I mean, monogamy, is overrated.” Tommy grabbed Cammy as she hit a slippery patch on the sidewalk and saved her from falling backwards. As she landed in his arms, he grinned down at her. “Besides, you’re the only woman I’d ever be willing to commit to.”

  3

  There was no mistaking the confusion that rippled over Cammy’s face, and Tommy knew she’d misunderstood his jest.

  He’d meant the comment about only ever committing to her as a joke…except there was a big ol’ chunk of truth behind the words.

  What had started out as a casual acquaintance had evolved into a rare and unique friendship. Being with Cammy felt like slipping on a favorite pair of well-worn jeans. She was comfortable, easy, and effortless. They’d immediately clicked. She laughed as his stupid jokes, didn’t complain about his crazy work hours, and never-not-once made a fuss about Ginger’s horrible shedding. Tommy couldn’t remember what life was like before she showed up. He loved coming home to her upbeat attitude and bold-yet-genteel personality. She described herself as sassy and classy. He only needed one word to describe her: perfect.

  Too bad they were best friends.

  Tommy knew he could fall for Cammy in a heartbeat. It had become second nature to keep his distance from her so he didn’t inadvertently bury his face in her hair or test the weight of her plump breasts in his palms. She was short and curvy with lots of dark wavy hair and eyes that blazed with honesty and humor. He was envious of the hugs and attention Cammy lavished on Ginger when he was off-limits.

  It was becoming more and more difficult to resist temptation. If Tommy wasn’t afraid of losing his best friend, he would have admitted his attraction months ago. Instead, he dated casually, doing nothing to dissuade the notion he was a player.

  If anyone knew the truth—that he hadn’t slept with any of the women he’d dated in more than a year—he’d be laughed out of town.

  Allowing Cammy to believe the worst about him prevented him from ruining the most important relationship in his life—their friendship.

  “Careful,” he warned, making sure she had both feet firmly planted on the ground before releasing her. “I don’t need a lost dog and a bestie with a twisted ankle.”

  “I’m good.” She took a step and slipped again.

  Happy for an excuse to keep a grip on her, Tommy slipped her arm through his. “Hang on. We gotta make time, or Ginger will be halfway to Atlanta by the time we catch up.”

  For a minute, he thought Cammy would object but she tightened her grip. There was truth to what he said. While they were usually able to locate the curious pooch before she got too far, on one occasion she’d been found along the freeway several miles distant.

  “We don’t want to keep Priscilla waiting either,” she said.

  There was an odd note in her voice. He was accustomed to Cammy riding him about dating a new woman every week, but her teasing was usually good-natured. She definitely didn’t like Priscilla.

  He could see why. Pris was gorgeous but knew it. And acted like everyone else should know it, too. He’d discovered this unpleasant fact after accepting her invitation to spend Christmas Eve with her family. If his mother hadn’t raised him as a gentleman, he would have made up an excuse to avoid going. The idea of a cozy evening at home with Cammy and Ginger held more appeal than a formal buffet at a million-dollar mansion in Tuxedo Park.

  Tommy glanced down, noting how drops of freezing rain clung to strands of Cammy’s hair, resembling diamonds amid the coiled locks. She was lost inside the folds of his heavy coat, but he didn’t need to see her body to imagine the warm curves.

  He had the crazy impulse to turn her in his arms, slide the jacket zipper down, and run his hands over the silky skin under her shirt. What would it feel like to kiss her, delving into the heat of her mouth, as icy sleet pelted them?

  He’d never know.

  Not if he wanted to preserve their friendship.

  “Looks
like Ginger went that way.” Cammy pointed to dog tracks barely visible in the slushy snow.

  “I need a tracking device for that dog,” he grumbled.

  “Maybe Santa will leave one under the tree.”

  They left the parking lot and hurried through the park, both calling out for the dog. A familiar bark sounded nearby.

  “She’s headed downtown.” Cammy tugged at his arm to hurry him along. “The traffic is heavier there.”

  They passed houses decorated for the holiday. Strands of white and multi-colored lights adorned bushes, bare tree branches, and eaves. Inflatable figures stood sentry in dark yards. Windows revealed Christmas trees decked out with ornaments, tinsel, and twinkling lights. Families were gathered together, laughing, smiling, visiting.

  Tommy envied the idyllic scenes. The gathering at Priscilla’s family’s home would no doubt be picturesque, but appearances could be deceiving. Hell, Priscilla looked great on the outside but had little substance. She was the type of woman who would expect jewelry or a designer handbag.

  He thought of the gift he’d picked out for Cammy and smiled, imagining her reaction. Picturing Priscilla’s horrified gaze if he presented her with the same thing made him laugh out loud.

  “What’s so funny?” Cammy’s pace didn’t slow.

  “I can’t wait to see your expression when you open my Christmas gift.” He whistled and heard another familiar bark.

  “If it’s another chia pet, keep it,” she said.

  “But you have such an incredible collection.” He’d given her a Chia Bob Ross for their first Christmas and the gag gifts had become something of a tradition. The Chia Golden Girls—Sophia, Rose, Blanche and Dorothy—were wrapped and waiting under his tree, along with another very special present.