Into Santa: A Secret Billionaire Christmas Romance Page 3

  “Everything okay?”

  “Peachy.” I rolled my eyes. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be sarcastic. It’s just been one thing after another lately.”

  “I’m sorry. I have something that might make it a little bit better, though.”

  “Other than the doughnuts?”

  “Even better.”

  “This, I have to see.”

  He stuck his arm behind the seat and fished around until he produced a large, red gift box with velvet ribbon holding it closed.

  “What is it?” I asked, envisioning some horrific Indecent Proposal/Pretty Woman situation.

  “Open it up and find out.”

  I removed the ribbon and lifted the lid, pushing aside the folds of tissue paper, more curious now than anything.

  “You didn’t,” I said with a laugh as I lifted out the most beautiful elf dress I’d ever laid eyes on. I ran an appraising hand over the fabric--a rich, red merino wool spun so fine and light it could have been cashmere. It had long sleeves and was trimmed in tasteful white faux fur, a perfect mirror of Nate’s Santa suit. Not a sequin or polyester corset in sight. And the best part? It would hit a respectable length a few inches above my knee.

  “I can’t accept it.” I put the lid back on the box and shook my head sadly.

  “It’s not a gift,” he said. “They had a new costume on order. I just offered to pick it up.”

  “They went from this”--I gestured to the tacky Fifty Shades of Elf poking out of my bag—”to this?”

  I patted the box.

  He was a horrible liar.

  “Seems a pity to let it go to waste.” Nate shrugged, but I caught him shooting me a sidelong glance. He’d won. He knew he’d won.

  I lifted the lid to stroke the fur one last time. And . . . my word. Were those buttons real silver?

  “All right,” I said. “I’ll wear it.”

  “No new tights, though. Looks like you’ll still have to wear the striped ones.” He was biting his cheeks to keep from laughing, I could tell.

  “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” I asked.

  “More than you know.”

  * * *

  The thing no one tells you about working in a retail setting, whether it’s a clothing store or running the cash register for Santa’s photo booth, is how hard it is on your body.

  By nine o’clock, my everything ached. My ballet flats and Dr. Scholl’s insoles were no match for the concrete floors. I rubbed a spot on my lower back that was particularly sore.

  Nate shot me a sympathetic glance, but he’d been sitting all night. I knew that brought its own share of stiffness, but he wasn’t the one hefting sixty pound kindergarteners onto the stool next to him.

  Todd hadn’t said anything about my costume switch, merely grunted. And I’d experienced a definite drop in lecherous looks from dirty-minded old men who were walking past.

  I’d call the night a win.

  During our break, I tried to rub a knot out of my neck while Nate poured a cup of coffee from the communal pot.

  He set his mug down next to me.

  “Mind if I try?” he asked. As I seemed to be doing more harm than good to my aching back, I nodded.

  “Sure.”

  He kneaded the spot gently until the tension loosened then dragged his knuckles up and down the top of my spine until my entire back felt like a bowl full of jelly.

  “Mmm. Thanks.”

  “No problem.” He stirred some cream into his coffee. “Mind if I ask you a question?”

  “Okay.”

  “You mentioned that you got laid off from Crainfield. I seem to remember that re-org happening quite a while back. Have you had a hard time finding a new job or—?”

  “It’s complicated.” I could feel my spine beginning to tense again, and I had to focus on keeping it relaxed. Truthfully, I tensed up whenever I thought about heading back into any programming job like the one I had at Crainfield.

  “Gotcha. You don’t have to explain, uhh, anything.” He looked up at the clock, apparently as eager as I was for this portion of the conversation to end. “We should probably head back.”

  “Yeah.”

  * * *

  As I was changing back into my jeans and sweater at the end of the night, my stomach let out an almighty growl. I’d only had time to grab a quick bite in the food court at dinner.

  “You want to get something to eat on the way home?” asked Nate.

  I didn’t bother to counter any argument about me taking the bus so late at night.

  “That would be great.”

  “Chick-fil-a sound okay?” he asked as he turned out of the parking lot.

  “Sounds perfect.”

  We ordered our food in the drive-in. The restaurant was getting ready to close anyway, but I still found myself disappointed. It wasn’t like I hadn’t had the chance to talk to Nate. But after eight hours of snippets of conversation in between customers, I relished the idea of sitting down and really talking, without any interruptions.

  We ate our food in the parking lot.

  “I’ve been thinking about what you asked, about why Santa,” he said, pulling a pickle off his sandwich.

  “Sorry. It was none of my business.”

  “No. It’s not that. I, uhh, I haven’t thought about it before. My parents died around the holidays when I was really young.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thanks. It was a long time ago. And I’m thankful that I have a loving grandmother who took me in and loved me hard as I grieved. But for a lot of years, this time of year was really hard for me, so I guess that I just decided to focus on others and turn it into something positive. It really helped. I used to dread Christmastime, and now I look forward to it like a kid.”

  “That’s awesome. I’m glad I’m your elf.”

  “I’m glad you’re my elf, too.” He took a sip of Coke.

  “Will you answer me something else?”

  “Sure.” But there was some hesitancy in his voice.

  “The new elf costume,” I said. “Shoot straight.”

  He laughed.

  “Okay, okay. I bought it.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “But why? That couldn’t have been cheap.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And why? Honestly, I didn’t think I could take one more minute of watching skeevy men check you out as they walked past. It was driving me a little bit crazy.”

  “Oh.” I wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.

  “Hey, do you need to get up early tomorrow?” asked Nate.

  “Alas, no. The only nice thing about unemployment is that the boss is lenient about being tardy.”

  “Are you up for an adventure?”

  “As long as it doesn’t involve snakes.”

  “I said ‘adventure’ not ‘nightmare from the bowels of Hell.’”

  “So no snakes?”

  “No snakes.” Nate switched on his turn signal and headed down a side highway away from the city. “But lots of stars.”

  Five

  There were no words for the beauty that surrounded us. After driving for what seemed like forever, we made it out past the northern suburbs and crunched our way down a gravel road that curved up the hillside like a silver ribbon, glinting in the moonlight. The road opened into a clearing that overlooked the whole city, twinkling in the distance.

  “The Geminids,” said Nate.

  “The Whosie-whatsie?”

  “It’s a meteor shower. They won’t peak for a few days yet, but it should make for a good show.”

  “Shooting stars?”

  “Yep.”

  “And you’re sure we’re not going to get in trouble for trespassing?”

  “Nah. I hear the landowner is a total sucker for pretty elves.”

  “I don’t, umm--”

  “Me,” he said. “It’s my land.”

  “You own this land?” This was some significant acreage. I brushed off
the pretty comment, aware that he was simply joking.

  “Uh, yeah,” he said. “I bought it a few years ago. Kind of a long-term investment. Someday I’d like to build on it.”

  “I can see why. It’s an amazing view.”

  The tailgate was long rusted shut. Nate hefted me over it into his truck’s bed. With his strong hands circling my waist, I was reminded of the sizzling jolt of desire I’d felt under the mistletoe the night before. Too bad there wasn’t a sprig hanging around somewhere. The night was cool but not cold. He popped open a storage chest and pulled out a few sleeping bags and blankets, spreading them out across the truck bed to form a soft pallet for us to lay on.

  “Why do I get the feeling you make a regular habit of this?” I said.

  “Star-gazing?”

  “Pulling a blanket out of your truck up here to keep innocent young ladies warm.” I cocked my eyebrow.

  “Actually, you’re the first person I’ve ever brought up here.”

  “And actually, I’m not that innocent.”

  It was Nate’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

  I had no idea why I’d said it. Usually I would never be so forward with a guy I’d known for so short a time. But that was just it. I felt like I’d known Nate forever. Heck, I’d already told my best friend that he was my boyfriend and transformed him into my imaginary plus one for her vow renewal ceremony.

  Which reminded me. I needed to come up with some excuse for why my imaginary boyfriend couldn’t come before I broke the news of our imaginary break-up.

  “The best viewing will be in that direction.” He pointed to the southern sky. “The city lights interfere some. It’s not like being home, way up high in the Blue Ridge mountains where you can see every glowing speck of space dust. But it’s downright decent.”

  I flipped onto my side and propped myself up on my elbow, looking at him.

  “West Virginia, wasn’t it? Do you miss it?”

  “So much,” he said, not taking his eyes off the expanse of stars. “But I love it here, too. I love the life I’ve built here. Atlanta has become home. West Virginia will always be home, too, though.”

  “Because it’s where you grew up?”

  “That, and because it’s . . . simple.” He turned on his side to face me.

  “City life can be hectic, can’t it?” I shivered. The wind had died down, but the sleeping bag beneath us proved little insulation against the cold metal truck bed.

  “Yeah. That’s part of it.” He pulled a blanket up over us like it was the most natural thing in the world, lying so close to each other that our breath joined together in a single flume in the crisp night air.

  “Jen,” he said quietly, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

  “Okay.” My brain flew through possibilities. He’d lied to me earlier and was actually married. He was gay. He lived with his mom and had seventeen cats all named Big Bertha. And sadly, I wouldn’t have been shocked. I’d encountered every one of those pieces of baggage within the last three years of treading water in the dating pool.

  “I, uh—” A deep crease formed between Nate’s eyebrows, and I felt my own face mirror his worry.

  Oh, Lord. It was going to be worse than the cat guy, wasn’t it?

  He reached down and took my hand in his. Then his face relaxed.

  “I’d really like to kiss you,” he said.

  My breath hitched in my throat. He could own all the cats he wanted, and I wouldn’t care.

  “I’d really like to be kissed.” I bit my lower lip.

  “I don’t want to make things weird at work,” he said.

  “I stand in the middle of a public place dressed as an elf. I don’t think work can get any weirder.”

  He chuckled. “I meant . . .”

  “I know what you meant.” And I didn’t care. I gripped him by the lapel of his jacket and pulled him toward me.

  I could tell the moment our lips met that it wasn’t going to be one of those kisses that stayed put. Flutters rushed to my core, and a heat grew from my center outward. I slipped my hand under the flap of his jacket and brushed my thumb down his chest and around to his side. He rested his arm on my hip and teased at the small of my back as he explored my mouth.

  He tasted like cinnamon, and the scent of fallen leaves hung in the misty air.

  We each took our time exploring the contours of each other’s faces with our fingertips and lips. I’d never felt more vulnerable and at the same time empowered.

  With a nip at his neck, I was able to make him shudder. But then he turned it around, nibbling at my earlobe, sending shivers down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold. I scooted closer to him so I could feel his body pressed against mine. He shifted and quietly groaned as he hardened against my thigh. That desire I’d sensed from him last night in the tow truck hadn’t been imagined, then.

  “Mmmm.” Nate wove his fingers between mine but pulled away slightly. He kissed my knuckles gently. “We’re missing the meteor shower.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I murmured. “I can see shooting stars with my eyes closed right now.”

  But as I slid them open and glanced up at the wide expanse of inky blue-black heavens, tiny streaks of light zipped across it--one, two, five, ten, hundreds--faster than I could count. I lost my breath all over again.

  “Oh, wow. This is amazing.” I nestled into the crook of his arm, and he played with my hair.

  “I’m glad you could share it with me.”

  “I’m glad you invited me.”

  Oy. Speaking of invitations, I hadn’t forgotten about my little deception with Annie earlier in the day. It still seemed ridiculous, the thought of inviting this man to be my date to my best friend’s vow renewal. And it wasn’t like it was down the street. Amelia Island was a five hour drive away off the Florida coast. Especially ridiculous since I wasn’t even sure if this was a date. Yes, we’d kissed. But we’d also kissed last night, and that had most assuredly not been a date.

  “Hey.” Nate squeezed my shoulder. “You’re somewhere up in the Milky Way up there, aren’t you?”

  “Technically, aren’t we all in the Milky Way?”

  “True enough.”

  “Yeah.” I let out a giant yawn.

  He lifted his wrist to look at his watch.

  A nice one, I noticed.

  “Whoa. It’s getting late. I should get you home.” He leaned down and gave me another kiss, but this one teetered onto the tame end of the spectrum.

  And with that, I filed away any thoughts of asking him to Annie and Evan’s shindig.

  * * *

  On the drive home, without even thinking about it, I buckled in next to Nate on the truck’s long bench seat. I must have dozed off because I woke up, groggy-eyed and confused but snuggled up in the crook of his arm when we pulled into my driveway. He hopped out and held the door for me. I stumbled on the running board, and he caught me by the waist, lifting me down like I was a ragdoll.

  “You okay there?” he asked.

  “I’m fine.” I wasn’t fine. I was kicking myself, wishing I could ask him then and there to go to the vow renewal with me. But I wouldn’t. And in my sleep-fogged brain, all my issues had run together. Because this was what I did. I took things that, on the outside, seemed to be perfect, and I overanalyzed them and picked them apart and then ruined them.

  Either by doubting my decisions to death.

  Or sarcasm.

  Or good old-fashioned self-sabotage.

  I’d done it in college. Then at Crainfield. And I was doing it now.

  But as I looked into Nate’s face, I saw he was busy battling some demons of his own. Deep furrows dug into his brow, like he was debating something. It was the exact look that, with every guy from my past, I would have been bracing myself, ready to sprint at a moment’s notice.

  But I wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Of course.” Gone were the worry
lines, and in their place, a smile that was too bright, too cheery, too carefree. It was a mask. We hadn’t known each other long, but again I had that sensation of knowing him long enough to read him like a book.

  And that included knowing when he was lying through his gorgeous teeth.

  I thought about calling him on it, but I wimped out lest he called me on my own lack of forthrightness.

  “Oh, look,” he said. “Mistletoe.”

  “I don’t have any—” I wasn’t able to finish my thought before his arms were wrapped around me. He leaned down and gave me a simple peck on the cheek.

  “Hmm. I could have sworn that was mistletoe.” He gestured to the shrub next to my porch.

  “Nope.” I started laughing.

  “My bad. I really need to get my eyes checked.” And then he kissed me again, this one anything but a simple peck, before he bade me goodnight.

  Six

  Norm, the guy from the tire store, called first thing in the morning to let me know that my car was ready. When he gave me the grand total for the tires with service and taxes included, it cemented any misgivings I’d had about inviting Nate to Annie and Evan’s ceremony. As it was, I’d need to hitch a ride with one of our friends to save on gas and shack up in the hotel with Annie’s Great Aunt Millicent when we got there.

  To brace myself for just how bad it was going to be when I received my credit card bill, I opened my bank account online. When I reached the page, though, I blinked.

  No. That couldn’t be right.

  In the column where there had been nothing but red and minuses for the past few months, there was a black number. A big black number. With Crainfield Industries Automatic Deposit written next to it. Not only my monthly salary, but what looked to be a holiday bonus, also.

  It was a Christmas miracle.

  No, I reminded myself with a sigh. It was a Human Resources mistake. One I needed to rectify no matter how much I desperately needed the money.

  With a sigh, I dialed up Kathy in HR, who’d handled all of my severance.

  “Hi, Jen. How have you been?”