Page 18 of The Grumpiest Elf

His low, rumbling laugh follows me out the door, and I cover my cheeks with my cool hands, willing my blush to go away as soon as possible.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been in the room with a shirtless guy. With Mom and Dad’s divorce throwing me off my game so much, I didn’t have the bandwidth to date this last semester. I spent far too much time in a cocoon of blankets watching movies on my laptop, actually. And when I wasn’t, it was because I was forcing myself to go to class or do homework.

And the couple guys I dated in high school, well … none of them looked like Dylan. They were all lanky and skinny in the way of high school boys. Dylan, though … Dylan’s a man. With muscles and broad shoulders and no baby fat.

Too bad he can barely stand me. Sure, we work together fine, and now he’s apparently willing to give me a ride, but there’s a canyon between professional courtesy and actually liking someone.

Which, let’s be real, is part of the problem on my end too. If he were actually nice, I might be more interested in getting to know him. But histone down the cheerful elf routinedirective makes anything else impossible. Because the “routine” isn’t really a routine. It’s just how I am. And if he doesn’t like who I am, there’s no point in trying to get to know him no matter how attractive I think he is.

I’m powering up the camera when he comes into Santa’s Workshop and gives me a quick smile. My brows furrow, because I can’t remember him ever smiling at me.

He stops, his eyebrows raising. “Everything okay?”

Glancing around, I check the camera again, and nod. “Uh, yeah. Everything’s great.”

He chuckles, turning to power up the computer. I focus on my opening task checklist and ignore Dylan. I’m not sure what his deal is today, but I’m not going to worry about it.

Maybe he got laid last night. My last boyfriend was always relaxed and happier after sex, and he could be moody sometimes too, especially when he was stressed about school. And since we dated our senior year of high school, there was plenty of school stress to go around.

Or maybe his initial grumpiness was due to lingering stress from finals? I know he’s still in college, and if stress makes him grumpy and he had a difficult finals week followed by having to work right away once he got home …

I guess that could make sense. And if enough time has passed, maybe he’s just generally in a better mood because despite working, it’s a different type of schedule and less mentally taxing?

Or I’m just making excuses for him and he’s really just a dick like I’ve thought all along and this is …

Who knows? Some ploy to get back at me for …?

I guess that’s where that theory falls apart.

“I think the stuffed animals are as orderly as they’re going to get.”

I look up from the basket at the sound of Dylan’s amused voice.

He’s grinning. “You’re acting like you’re trying to hack the code to stop a nuclear attack. It’s just stuffed animals, and they’ll turn into a big pile as soon as kids start showing up.”

Setting the toys in my hand down, I stare up at him, hands on my hips. “What’s your deal?”

His head jerks, his brows coming down, his smile fading. “What do you mean?”

I throw up my hands. “Are you mocking me right now?”

“What? No.” He holds out his hands like he’s trying to stop me or slow me down, protesting the accusation. “I’m just saying, organizing the stuffed animals isn’t that serious.”

I can’t argue with him because he’s obviously right. I’m just trying to give myself something to do that isn’t staring at Dylan or sitting in awkward silence. But if he’s not mocking me …

He smiled. He hasn’t grunted at me once. He seems almost … friendly?

But why?

Narrowing my eyes, I cross my arms and stare at him for a moment. He raises his brows, giving me a half smile. “You okay?”

Sighing, I drop my arms. “Yeah, fine. Is there anything else we need to get ready for today?”

He shakes his head. “Nope. We’re all set.” Glancing at the clock on the computer, he says, “We still have about twenty minutes before everything opens.”

I shift my mouth from side to side, trying to decide what to do for the next twenty minutes. “Busy schedule today?”

He chuckles softly, like the question is funny. “You could say that. I don’t think we have any available appointments through the weekend. It’ll be a struggle to squeeze the walk-ins between the appointments and keep it on time. Prepare yourself for grumpy kids and grumpier parents.”

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