Again, Kringle yanked on his leash, trying to pull toward something, and this time, his leash slipped through my gloved fingers. “Ah!”
“It’s okay,” a deep voice said. That same deep voice that had been haunting my thoughts for two days straight. “I’ve got him.”
I looked up from my music slowly and peeked over the edge of Lyla’s shoulder to find Chris standing in the doorway, back-lit by the warm light of the hallway—my dog on his two back feet, practically climbing into his arms.
We finished singing our carol… no thanks to me. From the moment I saw Chris standing there, snugging up with my traitorous dog, I was basically no help at all. Thank goodness Kandi was a strong soprano who didn’t need me to sing the part with her.
Chris clapped, standing from where he had been kneeling down to pet Kringle. “That was great,” he said. “Come on inside.”
“Oh, um, that’s okay,” Yvonne said. I knew what she was thinking. We had a group rule that we didn’t go inside anyone’s home if we didn’t already know them. And it made sense… no one here had met Chris yet except Lyla, who slid a cheeky grin in my direction.
“Oh, come on,” Chris said. “Isn’t that part of the caroling tradition? The house is supposed to provide figgy pudding and a hot beverage? Well, I don’t have figgy pudding because that shit is gross… but I’ve got coffee made or I can make some hot chocolate… courtesy of StoryBook Christmas.”
Everyone’s gaze mirrored Lyla’s and swung swiftly over to me. I cleared my throat and held out a hand toward Chris. “Um… everyone, this is Chris Pohle. CFO of StoryBook Christmas.”
“So…” Kandi looked back and forth between us. “This is a safe home?” she asked.
I gulped. Safe for who? Definitely not for me… or my panties. I nodded, managing a smile.
“Oh, thank God!” Yvonne cried out and ran inside. “I can’t feel my toes!”
Everyone piled inside until it was just Chris and me standing on his front stoop. “So… this was your event tonight?” he asked, rocking back on his heels.
I nodded, speechless, though I wasn’t sure if that was a result of all the singing, the freezing cold, or Chris’s powerful presence.
“I thought maybe you…” His voice faded off, not finishing the thought.
“You thought maybe I what?”
He chuckled. “I thought maybe you had a date.”
My heart jumped and my momentary excitement over the fact that Chris seemed to be jealous of a non-existent date was quickly thwarted by the utter ridiculousness of the thought. I snorted a self-deprecating laugh. “Me? You thought I had a date?”
His brows tilted between his green eyes. “What’s so shocking about that idea?”
“Well, for one, I haven’t had a date since last February. And to think that I’d have a date during our busiest week of Christmas Fest?” I shook my head and tugged my arm free from my coat sleeve.
“Since February, huh?”
He closed the door behind us, and the warmth of the home enveloped me.
“There’s a fireplace!” Lyla shouted from within the house. “And it’s already lit!”
I looked around the gorgeous entryway as I tugged my snow-damp hat off my head. Chris reached out, taking my coat and scarf from me and hanging it up in the closet beside the front door. “I can’t believe you’re staying here,” I said aloud, spinning as I crossed deeper into the home, looking around. Kringle made himself right at home and ran inside toward the noise of our friends, hovering around the fire to warm themselves.
“Why is that so shocking?”
“I… I don’t know. I guess you strike me more as a hotel kind of guy. Like you’d rent the top penthouse suite with a view and an elevator that opens up into the living room.”
His brow arched. “The Maple Grove Inn has a penthouse like that?”
I laughed and shrugged. “Not exactly.” They had a penthouse, but it was just a really nice, much larger version of the existing rooms. And most of the time, they upgraded a guest for free because it was pretty rare that it actually rented out. At least in the winter.
My gaze roamed over Chris’s body—it was the first time since his arrival that I hadn’t seen him in a suit… or in that hideous Grinch sweater. He wore well-fitted khakis that hugged his firm thighs and ass, and a frosty blue sweater with two suede elbow patches. God, I loved a man with elbow patches.
“I’m going to be here for a while if the board approves the expansion tomorrow. I wanted to be comfortable. Feel like I had a home instead of living out of a hotel.”
“I—I didn’t realize you were going to be here for so long,” I said as he took a step closer into me. I could resist Chris for a week… but longer than that? I wasn’t so sure.
“I am. Is that okay with you?”
There was a glint of humor in his eyes. Like he knew just how okay that was with me—more okay than I was willing to admit.
“Hey! You promised coffee!” Lyla shouted.
“And hot chocolate!” Kandi echoed.
Chris chuckled and tugged his phone free from his back pocket and peeked over my shoulder to where the group had congregated in his TV room. “How about I order us some pizzas, too?”
Chapter 11
Avery
“Drink!” Ford sang and held up his beer.
On the television, a made-for-TV Christmas movie played… and the heroine just started baking cookies with the hero’s kids. Classic. But for us, tonight? It was the sort of cliché scene that meant you had to take a sip of your drink.
Everyone laughed as they drank from their respective wine or beer—or in my case, spiked hot chocolate. I don’t know how or why Chris had all the ingredients to make a spiked peppermint hot chocolate… like he knew I would come over or something… but I was glad he did.
Steve and Yvonne had already gone home, leaving Ford, Kandi, Lyla, and me here to hang out and play drinking games to holiday movies.
“How can you like these things?” Lyla asked. “They’re so cheesy.”
I shrugged and smiled at the screen as the lead actress threw the flour into the air and danced as though it was snow. “I don’t believe in cheesy,” I said. “Just like I don’t believe in guilty pleasure. There’s only just pleasure. Period. Enjoy what you like and do so unabashedly.” I held my head high and took a long sip of my hot cocoa.
Beside me on the couch, I could feel Chris’s burning gaze. Even though he was sitting a respectable foot and a half away from me, my skin tingled, and I felt his eyes as sure as they were a touch against my flesh. I blinked, glancing over at him. “What?”
I thought for sure he was going to make fun of me. But he simply shook his head and said, “Nothing.” Then, raising his glass, he addressed the room. “Here’s to unabashed pleasure.”
“Here, here,” Ford said, just as the woman on screen started singing a Christmas carol.
“Carols!” Lyla shouted. “They’re singing carols! Drink up, bitches!”