Page 6 of The Bad Boy's Secret Santa

Chapter Four

PIPER

After spending an embarrassing amount of time holed up in the vacant meeting room of the community center, desperately searching the long list of Secret Santa rules for a loophole, I admit defeat and return to the event room. Iamsupposed to be learning the ropes, after all. Hard to do that when I’m hiding.

“You all right, dear?” Grandma Wilma asks when I return to our table, her expression concerned. There appears to be a lull in participants, as the room is empty aside from the two of us. She was the one who helped me pick up the pieces when Eli left town all those years ago. If anyone can understand how I’m feeling now, it’s her.

I let out a pitiful laugh. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”

“Maybe you should take the rest of the day off,” she suggests.

“But I thought?—”

“You’ve seen how this piece of it operates. This is the easy part. We can go over the behind-the-scenes details later.”

“Only if you’re sure.”

“I can handle this.” She gives me a quick squeeze. When she pulls back, she nods at the gift bag poking out of my purse. “You’ve got some work to do anyway.”

I know it’s pointless to ask, but I do anyway. “Is it possible there’s been a mistake with my?—”

“There are no mistakes, dear.”

“Oh.” My shoulders slump in disappointment. Guess I won’t be finding my true love after all. There’s no way in hell I’m meant to be with Eli Winchester. The bad boy who convinced the good girl to run away with him eleven Christmases ago—not that I’m counting—and then disappeared without even saying goodbye. It’s stupid, but unshed tears sting the corners of my eyes.

“You still believe in Christmas magic?” Grandma asks.

“Always.”

The door to the community center opens, welcoming two more residents. With one last squeeze, Grandma adds, “Then have a little faith.”

Faith.

Iwantto believe.

Iwillbelieve.

Idobelieve.

I’m still repeating the mantra in my head hours later, when I’m camped in front of my laptop. I decided to get a head start on an online marketing project that’s due mid-January with hopes that I would strike some grand epiphany about Christmas magic and true love during the monotonous work. But all I’ve managed are irritated eyes that are angry at me for not wearing blue blockers, and a rumbling stomach that’s complaining about a missed lunch.

Since the grocery store closes in ten minutes, I decide the local pizzeria is the easiest solution for dinner. It’s a quick three blocks from the four-plex, so I opt for walking. Parking’s hard tocome by, anyway. It’s a popular place. Plus, the fresh air, even if it’s chilly, helps me clear my head.

As much as I’ve tried to pour myself into my work all day, it’s been an uphill battle.

Seeing Eli Winchester has rattled my brain. It’s also made me surprisingly horny. Damn the man and his effortless sexiness. Hewouldhave the audacity to have aged like a fine fucking wine.I bet it only gets better from here. There’s nothing in those Secret Santa rules aboutnotseducing your recipient, though I suspect it might be frowned upon.

Andwhyam I thinking about sleeping with him? He abandoned me all those years ago and never apologized. Never called or emailed or sent a carrier pigeon to explain himself. I should hate him.

So why is it so hard to stay mad?

Maybe it’s been a hot minute since I’ve been with a man who knows his way around a woman’s body, but I’m more than capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much. I don’t need Eli’s earth-shattering orgasms to make my life complete.

But they aresogood.

The cozy restaurant is decorated in silver snowflake garland, red and green ornaments hanging from it. I don’t know why, but the small touch renews my hope. Maybe I’ll meet my true love bybeingEli’s Secret Santa. Yeah, that has to be it. My real true love is someone I’ll encounter because I have to be around Eli. Kind of like good karma.

“Come here often?” Eli’s silky-smooth voice causes my traitorous body to tremble with want. Okay, so maybe some of those stray thoughts while I was workingdidinvolve Eli and me in clothing optional scenarios. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to lethimknow that.

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