His Pumpkin Pie Read online

  His Pumpkin Pie

  Alexa Riley

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Read Me Romance

  Stalk the Author

  Copyright © 2020 by Author Alexa Riley LLC. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email to [email protected]

  http://alexariley.com/

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Edited by Aquila Editing

  Naughty and Notorious

  by Alexa Riley

  Pumpkin is on a plane back home for Thanksgiving when the man beside her becomes the jerk nobody wants to sit beside. When a dark and handsome Russian comes to her rescue and makes the sleazy neighbor switch seats, she’s forever in his debt.

  Miller wasn’t planning on coming back to Texas this soon, but an emergency lands him on a commercial flight with a woman that he can’t keep his eyes off of.

  Will this chance meeting change their lives forever? It’s Thanksgiving…and anything can happen!

  Warning: Kick your feet up on Turkey Day and escape those family judgments with a little romance.

  Chapter One

  Pumpkin

  I groan as I roll over in bed, not wanting to get up yet. Then I let out a scream when I almost roll right off the edge. Thankfully I catch myself on the nightstand and push myself back up. How in the world am I not used to this hotel bed by now?

  I’ve been sleeping here for over a month, and I should be aware of the bed size in my sleep. Plus it’s bigger than the twin bed I slept in when I lived at home. I miss that bed, but maybe I also miss waking up in a place filled with family instead of a cold hotel room.

  As excited as I am about going home, I’m worn out. I hate my job, I miss my family, and I’m not sure how much longer I can do this. I’m supposed to be settling into this career change, but all I want to do is go back home. I’ve done all of this so that I could stand on my own two feet for once. But instead it’s led me to jumping in with both feet, and now I want to jump right back out. My feet are so damn tired.

  The screen on my phone lights up, making me wonder who could be messaging me this early. It has to be my sister with another great idea for something we should make. She finds inspiration while scrolling through Facebook, and seventy percent of the time it’s a food idea. We spend hours making them, and they never turn out like the two-minute video makes you believe they will.

  “Oh crap.” I spring up to a sitting position without clicking the text when I see the time.

  How? How is that even possible? I set an alarm! I click on my alarm in disbelief to see that I did in fact set it for seven. But I clearly wasn’t paying attention and clicked p.m. instead of a.m. Yet another reason I’m starting to think I’m not cut out for this whole adulting thing. Especially when it comes to selling medical supplies. How can I sell them when I can’t even work a damn cell phone? But here I am, thousands of miles from home, selling them and actually doing well at it.

  In a mad dash, I run around the hotel room trying to get all my shit shoved into my bags. I don’t bother with showering or anything that’s going to waste time like hair and makeup.

  The original plan was to be in Seattle for a week, but that quickly turned into a few months. My employer said I would travel, but somehow I’ve been stationed in one spot for what feels like forever. They were short-staffed out here, and I’ve been going from one medical building to the next. They have me lined up for work six days a week and have slipped in a few Sunday jobs too. I can’t complain, or at least I shouldn't. I make commission and I’ve been killing it, but I’ve never felt more lost in my life.

  I’m dying to get back home to spend Thanksgiving with my parents and to be around people I know and love. I’m going to soak up every minute of it, and then I’m going to get some much-needed advice from my mom and sister.

  I’ve been second-guessing giving up my job, but I know I could get it back in a heartbeat. I roll my eyes at myself as I slip into my boots. People are trying to find jobs all around me, and here I am complaining about having one that pays well…but at what cost?

  I let out a happy scream when I get my bag closed, and I stare at it for a moment. This is pretty much my whole life in one bag. I don’t let myself think about it too much or I’ll begin to spiral. Instead I grab my purse and my other bag before I roll out of my hotel room and hustle my booty down to the lobby as fast as I can.

  Thank goodness my favorite valet is out there, and Laura snags me a cab, seeing me in my hurried state. I blow some of the curls out of my face and smile.

  “Thank you,” I call as I run over to the cab, and she helps me toss my bags into the back. I give her a quick hug. “You have a good Thanksgiving.”

  “You do the same, Pumpkin.” She kisses my cheek. “This is your big holiday, after all.” She winks and steps back to motion for another taxi to pull up behind mine.

  “So my mother tells me.”

  My mom has been obsessed with Thanksgiving my whole life. She’s pretty crazy about Christmas too, but it’s how I ended up with the name Pumpkin and my sister got the name Cookie. Not that I’m complaining. She really did give us the kind of holidays that you remember most.

  “Get her to the airport quick but safe.” Laura hits the top of the taxi, and the guy takes off.

  Living in a hotel, you start to make a lot of friends with the staff. I didn't do it because of the perks. Hell, I didn't know there would be so many, but they treat me well. That will be one thing I’ll miss if I decide to quit my job.

  I let out a breath and check the time again. I cannot miss this flight. Everything was booked solid, so who knows if I’ll be able to get on a later one? Plus I don't want to be delayed any longer because I want to be home.

  A smile spreads across my face when I not only see that I’m making good time but I’m being offered an upgrade. I debate spending the extra fifty dollars but decide to treat myself with how hard I’ve been working. I’ve never flown first class before, and I bet it’s amazing.

  I guess my luck this morning is turning around. At least I thought so, until I landed in my first class seat next to an arrogant jerk that no amount of champagne could drown out.

  Chapter Two

  Miller

  My brother speaks to me in Russian as the flight attendant offers us champagne, and I shake my head. I answer him back in our native tongue, and he huffs and looks out the window.

  Frost doesn’t like to fly and wants to get drunk. But I prefer we keep a clear head until we’re safely back home, even if he’s annoyed with me. I don’t care. We’re only on this flight for a few hours; he can manage until we land.

&
nbsp; This is how it is with brothers, but even more so with twins. We look identical, but we are very different in our personalities. Our mother and father immigrated from Russia before we were born and raised us in Texas.

  We were born there but spent much of our youth studying abroad and building our business. Frost and I own one of the world's largest oil refineries and have production all over the world. Thankfully we are at the point in our careers that I don’t have to make Frost fly much anymore. At least not after this week.

  We sold one of our largest refineries for a sum of money that made national headlines. We were the first ever to have that many zeros attached to a company, and it’s cause for celebration. So why is it that we’re both so miserable? Oh yes, that’s because we’re going home.

  Our mother and father might have done the best they could for us by sending us away, because being at home with them is always hell for us. They are cold and calculated in how they speak, and there is always penance for being away for so long. My mother was never warm, nor did she possess a mother's instinct, and my father only knew how to discipline with his hands.

  When Frost and I became larger than him, he stopped physically hurting us and used our mother's methods of emotional blackmail. Since they came to America, they have adopted American traditions, one of which is Thanksgiving. When our mother asked us to come, she said that she had important news to discuss, which is why we’re on the way back from Europe so soon.

  Frost and I have homes in Texas right next door to one another. Maybe it’s a twin thing, but we can’t stand to be too far apart, even when living on our own. We call Texas home, but we would never confuse that with the place where our parents live. We’d planned on being in Europe for another month celebrating our negotiations, but instead we’re on a plane and dreading the reason for it.

  “You know I never get to sit next to pretty women on a plane,” I hear the man in the seat in front of me slur.

  I look at my watch to see we’ve only been on the plane about an hour. I don’t know how the man can be so drunk, and I look at Frost as he rolls his eyes. We both have the same thought—that the guy was probably hitting the bar before he got on the plane, and he definitely can’t handle his liquor.

  A soft feminine voice pipes up from beside him, but I can’t hear what she says. The cabin is noisy, and there are people talking in the row behind me. I think back to when I got on the plane. The cabin was almost empty at the time. Frost and I arrived early and were able to get on first.

  “Oh come on, don’t be like that,” I hear the man say, and his voice is a bit louder. “I’m just making conversation.”

  I can see a small crack between the seats, and the man leans over to where the woman is in the window seat. He’s bald on top with gray fluffy hair on either side, and his face is red like he drinks more than just before he gets on a plane.

  The hair on the back of my neck stands up, and I reach back and rub it. I don’t like the feeling in my stomach, and as if Frost can sense it, he nudges me with his elbow.

  “You okay?” he asks, his accent thick.

  “Da,” I answer as I try to shake it off.

  The woman speaks, and this time it’s loud enough for me to hear her. “Sir, please, you need to back away and give me some space.”

  “You bitches are all the same. Showing it off and then getting pissed when a man looks at it.”

  I’m unbuckling my seatbelt before he’s finished speaking, but Frost grabs my arm.

  “Be calm,” he warns, and I yank out of his hold.

  He knows I have a temper, because his is as bad as mine. Growing up, we saw our fair share of our father putting hands on our mother until we were old enough to stop it. But even after we put an end to it, she was still just as cruel to us as before. I think she resented the fact that we were able to walk away from him and she chose to stay.

  When I hear a man speak like this asshole in front of me, I have flashbacks, and it sends me into a rage.

  “Sir, you’ll need to take your seat while the captain has the light on,” the flight attendant says from behind me.

  “I’m about to,” I tell her as I step forward and look down at the small drunk man. “You’re in my seat.”

  It takes him a second to look all the way and find my eyes scowling back at him. “W-what?” He smiles like I’m joking and looks around. “This is my seat.”

  “No, you are in my seat,” I repeat, and now his smile drops.

  “I have my ticket—”

  I lean down so that he can get the measure of me properly. “I don’t give a fuck what your ticket says, you cunt, you’re going to get up and move.” I clench my jaw and then relax it. “Or I will remove you.”

  He swallows hard as I straighten and pauses only a second before unbuckling his seatbelt.

  I look at the flight attendant standing in the aisle, and she watches silently as the man stands up and moves out of my way.

  “Sit.” Frost points to the empty seat beside him, and the little man follows directions like a child.

  I nod to my brother, and he nods to me as I unbutton the front of my jacket and take the seat that the drunk vacated. The flight attendant moves past us and to the cabin without a word, and I take a deep breath to settle my anger.

  “Thank you,” I hear whispered softly from beside me, and for the first time I glance over to the woman he was bothering.

  My mouth opens as I’m stunned silent by her beauty. Her dark hair is curly and long around her face like a waterfall. It looks soft, like it would feel good to bury my face in it. Her eyes are ice blue like the waters in Russia, and they make me homesick for a place I’ve never been.

  “Da,” I say, because it’s all I can manage. Her full lips curve on one side, and she looks away. I want to call her name so she will look at me again and I can get lost in whatever that feeling was.

  I clear my throat as I look away, trying to gather my thoughts. I glance back at my brother, who is watching me with his eyebrows pulled together in concentration.

  “It’s no problem,” I say, looking down at her arm resting between us. It’s so small and her skin is so fair, I want to touch it and see if it’s warm.

  She leans a little closer to me like she’s going to say something, and on instinct I lean in closer to her at the same time. “I think maybe he’s just really drunk.”

  “I think maybe he’s just an asshole,” I respond, and she covers her mouth with her hand to smother the laughter that bubbles up.

  I feel a hint of anger that she’s keeping the sound of her laughter from me, and I don’t know why that annoys me.

  “Maybe you’re right. He asked me to join the mile-high club.” Her cheeks flush as she looks away, and I clench my fists on either side of me.

  “He did what?” I bark, but when I turn around, I see the little man slumped over in the seat behind me, passed out. “I’m going to break his neck when we land.”

  “You came to my rescue.” I feel her gentle fingers on my wrist, and I look down at the contact. She quickly takes her hand away and apologizes. “Sorry, I’m just a mess today.”

  “It’s okay,” I reassure her. “Work or pleasure?”

  When I say the word “pleasure,” I think about what that would be for this little kitten. She looks like a small thing I would like to cuddle. A pet I could keep in my bed. Thoughts of taking her from the airport and to my home make the arrival home seem much sweeter.

  “Um, Thanksgiving.” She smiles at me as she takes a sip of her champagne.

  For a moment I miss what she’s saying because I’m thinking of how the bubbles on her tongue would feel against mine.

  “My sister is making me bake a million things.” She shrugs, and the sweatshirt she has on slips over her bare shoulder, exposing a triangle of skin.

  My mouth waters at the silk I’m suddenly hungry to taste, and I have to look away. I’m no better than the lecher that was in this seat before me with how my mind is wandering. I don’
t want a quick fuck in the bathroom, I want to lay her out on a table and feast on her body.

  “Are you going home for the holiday?”

  “Da,” I say as I nod back to Frost. “My brother and I are traveling together.” The plan has my mind coming back to the present, which is good. I need to concentrate on something that doesn’t include seeing more of her skin.

  “My name is Miller,” I offer and hold out my hand.

  “Pumpkin.” She smiles and slips her hand in mine.

  I try not to hold it for too long, but my thumb lingers for a moment after I let her go. Afterwards, I place my hands in my lap to keep them to myself as I spend the next four hours listening to all the things Pumpkin is going to make for Thanksgiving.

  Chapter Three

  Pumpkin

  “I’m so sorry.” I look down at my third glass of champagne. They don’t really ask if you want another, they keep topping you off. “I’m going on and on about my job.”

  “I enjoy listening to you speak.”

  I really hope that the blush that lights up my face is hidden by the few drinks I’ve already had. Miller doesn’t speak much, but when he does, it warms my insides.

  “I’m sure me talking about medical transcribing and selling medical supplies can’t be that entertaining.” Something that takes up so much of my life makes it feel like there’s nothing else to talk about.

  “But you like it.”

  I pause for a moment as I take another sip of my drink. I don’t want to be a Debbie Downer, and before now our conversation has been light and easy.