Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
I shouldn’t be playing games. We agreed to be good, but being naughty feels so much nicer.
Tomorrow morning, he’s finally going to reveal the truth. Maybe that’s why I feel so—What did he call me, electrified? I didn’t expect my Secret Santa to reply when he left me on read for so long. Then, toward the end of the day, he texted.
My Secret Santa: I can’t do this anymore. Eight a.m., the park near work, by the Christmas tree. I’ll be waiting there for you. Texting you has made me feel so emotional, invested, and charmed. You’re a remarkable, unique woman. You’re everything any lucky man could ever want.
I was shocked Asher would speak like this. It made me wonder, again, if this is Asher or somebody else. There have been too many coincidences.
Tomorrow, I’ll know for sure.
I walk into the kitchen to grab some coffee before we leave. Dan grins at me. “Lookin’ festive, Holly. Just don’t drain my main man too much.”
I smile, hating how forced it feels. I called my Secret Santa Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, but that applies to me just as accurately. “What do you mean?”
“He’s on wingman duties tomorrow. I’ve finally found a time for Marcella and me to go on a date, but she was adamant about bringing a buddy. Guess who came in clutch as the wingman?”
It’s good I’ve got my back to Dan. He can’t see the look of pain on my face.
Asher’s going on a date with another woman.
“Don’t worry. I’ll have him home at a reasonable hour.”
Dan chuckles.
Soon, Asher walks in.
“Where’s your Santa outfit?” Dan demands.
“I’m changing when I get there.” Asher’s eyes roam over my body, then fixate on the stockings. He quickly stares anywhere else. The clear effort this takes sends my confidence soaring.
“Damn, you’ve stolen my chance to bust your balls.”
Asher laughs. I wonder if Dan can hear how forced it is. Or, if, like so much else between me and Asher, that’s a private secret just for us.
After finishing my coffee, Asher and I ride the elevator to the underground parking lot. He stands close to me, almost touching. His breath comes quickly.
“Are you okay, Asher?” I ask, looking up at him innocently.
It’s petty, sure, but I bet he won’t look at his date like this.
“Is the outfit okay?” I go on when he stares at me. “Are the stockings okay?”
“I thought we were being good.”
I bat my eyelashes at him. “I’m just asking a question.”
He grabs me and pushes me against the wall. His kiss makes me sparkle, and I can’t even think about telling him to stop. Our lips were made for each other. It’s an irrational thought, but it doesn’t seem impossible when we press closer together.
His hand moves to my leg. I push him away.
“Fuck,” he grumbles, shuddering as he takes a step back. “Okay, from now on, we’ll be good.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “I could help if you want.”
We walk across the parking lot. He glances at me, the glacial glow of his eyes flitting to my legs like he can’t help himself. I’ve never been uber-proud of my body. I’ve also never been ashamed, either.
When he looks at me, the scales tip toward the proud side. Feeling wanted by my Secret Santa—if it is him—is so addictive.
“How?” he asks when the butterfly doors of his sports car flip open.
“I could start an argument.”
He chuckles. “About what?”
“About your double date.”
His laughter falters. “Don’t give me that crap, Snowflake. What was I supposed to say when he asked? We’ve betrayed him so many damn times. We betray him every second we’re together. Over and over, we’re betraying him. He asked me for a favor. I agreed. That’s all there is to it.”
“Good.”
He turns and stares down at me. “It shouldn’t be good or anything else.”
He’s the one who wants to meet me in the park tomorrow. The one who wants to make our Secret Santa not so secret.
“We should hit the road,” I say.
“That date means nothing,” he snaps.
“It doesn’t matter to me.”
“Yeah, yeah …”
Brianna sits beside me in the church before the toy drive starts, wringing her hands. Guilt emanates from her every pore. “I hope this isn’t too much of a bother.”
“He’s happy to do it,” I say.
She looks at me in shock, and I wonder if I should’ve said that. I don’t want to put words in Asher’s mouth. His mouth is useful for other things …
For a Christmas elf, I sure am being bad.
“He said that?” Brianna asks.
“No, but you know Asher. If he doesn’t want to do something, he won’t. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want to do it. I know you’ve got … history.”
“History,” Brianna repeats bleakly. “That’s one way to phrase it. I was an awful mother. Poor Asher. There were so many times I let him down. I expect nothing from him now. I hope he knows he doesn’t owe me anything.”