“Come on,” I urge. “You’ve been mopey since I saw you sitting at the bar. Doesn’t the holiday spirit usually cheer you women up?” I ask with a small smirk.
She snorts. “Doesn’t it look like it?”
“Tell you the truth…it looks like Christmas came to town and exploded.” I glance at the decor outside our windows and then her face. “And… I’m guessing that’s why you’re giving me that look right now that says you want me to slam you in the fist with my face…” I tilt my head, turning to look at her further. “You don’t like this holiday stuff?”
“I mean, I did once…” She smiles wistfully out the window. “But I don’t know. Someone… Well, Emily made me realize that maybe I could use a little more Christmas spirit.” She glances back at me, and I grin. Her face falls. “So, yeah, I do like this stuff. Just not for me anymore.”
She looks up and down the decorating buildings, and I find myself shrugging. “So…?”
She spins to me. “So what?”
“Maybe we need to make sure the firm gets more holiday cheer,” I add in. “My father would hate it…” I smile at the thought. “But adding a couple of bad lights and some tacky streamers into the King & Sparrow office wouldn’t be the end of the fucking world. If it was, my eighth birthday would have been followed by the coming of the apocalypse. My Serbic mother and her plight to act like an ‘American.’ Looked like the Fourth of July had fucked a bag of sprinkles.”
She laughs, a light breathy sound that makes me want to bend her over right now, and when I look into her eyes, this time, a light dims the sadness that was there earlier at the bar. And I feel the need to keep it there.
I slap a hand against the seat, sliding over her seat belt. I buckle it before fastening my own beside her in the back seat.
“Fuck it.” I reach towards the town car’s roof. “Let’s get out of here then.”
“Where are we going?”
“Where all the magic happens.” I tap her chin. “Just sit tight. I know a place that will take care of all of your needs.” I don’t tell her that the other place is my bedroom… though the dick part of me, the piece-of-shit liar part of me, is dying to. I keep the tidbit to myself. I lower the partition, and the driver finally looks back, his brown eyes widening as he takes in my beautiful date. His gaze darts between us.
“Where to?”
“Lead the way, Rudolph. The lady here needs Christmas decorations. And make it stat.”
Violet laughs softly, obviously disbelieving me. But when the driver pulls away from the curb, heading towards the store, the smile falls from her face, replaced by a look of shock. She glances at me. “Wait, what…?”
Chapter Nineteen
HEATH
Santa Claus, my ass.
I’m spending way more money than the fat man ever could. And I have no problem dropping the cash.
It’s St. Heath to save the day. For once.
Stuck in a red and green hell, stranded in the center of a jam-packed Holiday department store, I load a million things into my cart until there’s nothing to load anymore.
A flood of bright fluorescent lights burn down on me. Surrounded by a sea of soccer moms scrambling for last-minute Christmas presents, my eyes scan over the big bright banners celebrating the holiday seasons, the sales signs as far as the eye can see.
If this was a year ago, I’d be drinking alone in my penthouse, thinking about how much I hate the holidays.
But I’m actually having fun.
It’s one of the first times I’m able to do so without food, a friendly drink or fucking, and I know, without a doubt in my mind, that this is new territory for me. A whole new experience.
Even amidst the throngs of runaway toddlers ripping through the aisles and last-minute holiday shoppers swarming the store, I’m surprisingly enjoying myself.
Maybe the holiday season is rubbing off on me. Maybe it’s Marilyn’s advice. Maybe it’s something else.
I have a sneaking suspicion that something else is the sensual woman strutting towards me, looking every bit of a Christmas gift in a Santa-hat and stockings that skim just below her tiny knees.
She twirls in the aisle and I can’t help but goddamned grin, my breathing growing shallow as she smiles back, fanning a hand along her curvy body.
“I couldn’t resist. These socks were on sale. Some of the ladies at the office might love it.”
“So you decided it’s best to dress up as a Peewee Herman nightmare?”
“Come on.” She scoffs, looking down at the outfit. “It’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad?” I chuckle as I circle her, carrying a sleigh rides worth of ornaments in my arms. “Keats, you look like an oversized peppermint stick.”
“Oversized?” She grunts. “I resent that. I think I look just the right size of peppermint. The only thing here that’s oversized is your mouth, Grinch.” She points, heading back towards a second aisle. I slant a hand out, stopping her from leaving, pulling her close.
“Yes. What a big mouth I do have.” I lean closer. “The better to eat you with, my dear…” My voice sinks, and Violet shudders, looking up at me. Blue eyes tinged with desire, hinting at a hidden longing, I’m tempted to kiss her, take her in my arms and let her violate every part of me she wants to.
But I let her go.
Deciding not to defile the eyes of kiddies traipsing through the store, I check my phone in my pocket for the hundredth time since we’ve been here, my concentration swinging back onto the stock market, my hand thrumming through all the charts, lines and numbers with a nervous thumb.
My composure is nearly shot. Shaky, at best.
The day’s markets have taken a tumble, and with the DOW ending on a down swing, my heart beats just a little harder, my joy at seeing a snowflake-patterned Keats made a little less jolly as my cell phone beeps for the billionth time—just another reminder that my bet with David is looming over my head.
Except the beeps don’t stop.
Not a notification, no. My cell phone is ringing. And as I sling it from my pocket, my face somehow finds the will to smile when I see the name imprinted on my screen. I pick up with a long, lofty sigh.
“How have you been feeling, superwoman? Recovering okay?”
“Trust me.” My sister exhales on the other end of the line. “There’s nothing super about me. I’ve got antiseptic all over my body, bandages all over my ass. Please, if I ever think about getting in a car again, just dunk my head in a vat of water until I stop struggling. At least, that would be a cleaner death.”
“Hey…” I snap back, the word death making my pulse drum. “You’re not fucking dead, Mare. And you’re lucky not to be.”
“Yeah, tell that to my producers who don’t want to see this new ‘mug’ of mine. They told me to rest until I get better before coming on set. Translation: You look like the Elephant Man, and we wouldn’t want you scaring the kiddies.”
“Have faith, supermodel." I press the phone closer to my face. “They’ll go right back to judging you for your outer beauty in no time.”