Steve Arthur Christmas Novels & Stories

“Cristy, marry me.” “And my ring? I won’t marry you without a ring, dear. Forget it.” Arthur smiled and hugged her from behind as she loaded the gun. “You’re wonderful, my little beast.” “I know. You won the grand prize with me, although I’m a little crazy too. And jealous, and very hot.” “I can handle all that. Especially the last one,” Cristy looked at him and winked. “I know, big guy. That’s why I’m still not bored.”

Leo’s thumb traced the line of her jaw, his expression softening into a quiet, grounded smile that belonged entirely to this valley. At ten-thirty, a rusted yellow pickup truck turned off Route 9W and rumbled up the gravel lane, its exhaust popping softly in the cold air. The truck ground to a halt beside the water trough. Arthur, the retired carpenter from down the ridge, stepped out of the cab. He was seventy, dressed in a faded denim jacket lined with sheepskin, a battered wool cap pulled low over his grey hair. In the bed of his truck sat a heavy cast-iron cider press and four wooden crates of late-season northern spy apples.

Arthur asked even louder, lifting his right arm and sniffing his armpit before looking around innocently. Victor elbowed Arthur before turning them away from the crowd and scolding him for almost making him laugh. “You are seriously too much! I was this close to laughing! You can't do that to me!” Victor said, and Arthur laughed. “I'm sorry I was late. I didn't anticipate the traffic, but I forgot about humans and their love for coming up north on the weekends. It was absolutely ridiculous! Every Tom, Dick, and Arthur was heading up north this lovely Friday evening!” Arthur said, flashing a smile. Victor reached up, and with his fingers spread apart, he placed them on Arthur's face and shove

But they aren’t really my fault. My responsibilities tend to go the wrong way, it’s not my doing. I breathe out, and look out the window. My thoughts drift back to Arthur. He’s the dream guy. He’s huge and tall. He’s handsome, smart, funny sometimes. He’s just everything. I shouldn’t be falling for a guy like him. My family wouldn’t be happy if they find out. “You didn’t tell dad about Arthur saving me, did you?” I nervously ask Luke, he tells Dad everything.

"I want to sleep, but I feel like the moment I try to get on that bed, something is going to—" Someone knocked. "See!" Kali shouted. "Don't open it!" Clea whispered but Kali was already at the door, opening it. The door opened to a white-haired large-cheeked tall bulky man who looked to be in his sixties. Kali thought he looked like father Christmas. She chuckled a bit and he smiled. "Hi... miss. I'm Arthur." "Arthur, nice to meet you. I'm Kali." "I was told there's two of you."

Curious, Steve opened the locket to see a picture of him with The Lady in Red in his arms. Suddenly Steve felt very emotional. The prior Christmas he had been alone in Germany as the Navy searched for his relatives because he was 17 and recently orphaned. He remembered the Christmases with his mother and father and other family members. Once again he felt like he was part of a real family. Unable to speak, Steve mumbled something and hurried from the room as his eyes began to water. Gwen watched in shock as Steve quickly left the room with no acknowledgement of her gift. Stunned, she turned to her mother with an unspoken question in her eyes.

I stand alone on the icy field, turning back every few minutes to look at the road behind me. When my hands grow numb from the cold, I scroll my social media feed and see a recent post from my younger sister, Giada Soave. Holding gifts in her arms, she sits beneath a luxurious crystal Christmas tree with my parents embracing her from both sides. Ivano stands behind her with his hand resting lightly at her waist and his eyes full of tenderness. The caption reads, "Merry Christmas, I'm grateful to spend the holiday with those who love me most!" The comments section buzzes with blessings, praise, and envious messages.

I've been ignoring him, but his persistence is becoming problematic. I deleted the message without reading it. The Christmas gala is in two days. The annual event where the city's elite gather to see and be seen, to make deals and alliances over champagne and caviar. I'll need to bring Ava, show her off as my devoted wife, maintain the illusion that everything is fine. She'll smile and play her part because she has no choice. Because I've made sure she has nowhere else to go and no one else to turn to. And I'll stand beside her, touching her waist, playing the role of perfect husband, hating myself a little more with every passing moment.

Then allowed it. But his hand never left mine. Inside, lilies scented the air. Strong. Overpowering. Almost masking something underneath. “Uncle Steve!” Hailey ran towards a man in uniform. Uniform. Precise. Like everything else here. “Welcome home, sir,” Steve said with a slight bow. “Thank you.” “Sir, your mother...” “I know,” Mr Howard cut in. That was all. No elaboration. “Aria, this is Steve, the butler.”

He was tall, really tall for a Santa Claus, that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes—oh, his eyes. They were an icy gray that seemed to bare my soul, uncovering every hidden secret before his eyes. I felt a cold shiver run down my spine, but I couldn't tell if it was from the cold or the way those eyes made me feel, something so distinct yet I couldn't put my hands on it. “Merry Christmas,” he murmured, his deep baritone causing my heart to thrum so loudly in my chest I could only stand there and gawk like a damn fool.