Page 38 of Yule Know It When You See It
I’m now in my office chair, typing on a keyboard on a black screen while Theo sits across from me with a pen in hand and no paper in sight. “I guess we lost track. When inspiration strikes, my friend. Am I right?”
Theo flashes me a mischievous grin and chews on the butt of the pen.
“I wouldn’t know, but I’ll take your word for it.” The janitor shakes his head and supports himself on one knee to scoop the mop back in hand.
“We’ll get out of your way. Sorry for startling you.” Theo stands and motions for me to follow.
After grabbing our coats and briefcases, we meet in the atrium. Despite having kissed three times now, this one felt more intimate and has an unseen charge zipping between us.
“It’s almost one in the morning. I should head home. We’ve got a lot of work to do tomorrow to give Simone something. She’ll expect it. Not to mention Rupert wants me to help him pick out the wardrobe for his next photoshoot.” Theo uses a single finger to fix a part of my beard that’s become unkempt.
Adjusting my jacket for no reason other than I don’t know what the hell else to do, I kiss her cheek. “You’re right. We’ve got plenty of time to see where this goes.”
At this, she surprises me with a brightened smile. “Yes. Yes, we do.”
I’ve received plenty ofJulgifts in my lifetime, but if this works out with Theo, and every fiber in me is praying it does, this could be the most cherished of all.
I’ve reverted to a five-year-old version of myself pretending to sleep on Christmas Eve in unruly anticipation of what’s to come. But instead of revolving around a portly man in a red suit with a snow-white beard, this centers on a burly Viking with eyes the color of Neptune. It’s bad enough that I can’t stop staring at him when we’re in the same vicinity. And worse, my brain insists on replaying our heated office make-out session on loop. It’s more inconvenient when helping a friend choose the wardrobe for an upcoming men’s fashion photoshoot, as I am right now.
“Theodora,” Rupert shouts, snapping his fingers in my face.
I sit on the bench outside the fitting rooms at some couture clothing shop I didn’t bother remembering the name of. I’m resting my head on the partition behind me when Rupert has to jolt me to attention for the third time since we arrived. “Sorry. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”
“Oh, yeah?” Rupert folds his arms. He’s changed into a shiny black button-down, glossy skinny pants, and a red plaid jacket that falls to his knees. “This have anything to do with a six-foot-four Norwegian?”
Is he really that tall? That’s like Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson tall.
I move my purse to my lap and zip up my spine. “I’m confused. Does what have to do with Axel? My lack of sleep or—”
“Ah ha!” Rupert points at me and waves that same finger in my face. “Youarethinking about Axel.”
Playfully batting his hand away, I push to my feet. “How many other tall Norwegian guys do we know?”
Rupert arches a brow and stares at his cuticles. “You’d be surprised.”
My hands fly to my head, frustration brewing, but I fight everything in me not to take it out on innocent, popular with the boys, Rupert. “Okay,me. How many tall Norwegian guys doIknow?”
“Sweetie.” With one hand clasped to his chest, Rupert places the other on my shoulder and pouts. “I don’t know your life.”
Exasperatedly, I let out a tigress growl that comes out more like a cub. “Rupert, we’re here to find clothes for your photoshoot. Not talk about Axel freaking Nord.”
“Well, no offense.” He places a fist on his hip. “But you’re pretty useless when you keep zoning out every three minutes.”
My mouth opens to object but no words that will successfully defend myself in this situation come out. I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Fine. Things have—escalated? Between me and Axel?”
Rupert lowers his glasses, giving me “you dirty little hoe” eyes before sliding them back in place. “This I have to hear.”
“That outfit is banging, by the way. Make that one you use.” I paint an imaginary line with my finger, fanning it up and down over Rupert’s body.
“Fab.” Rupert flicks the jacket collar. “Going to hop into the next one. Seven to go. But start talking. I’m sure I can manage to hear you through plywood.” He wraps his knuckles against the fitting room door and whisks inside.
Where do I begin? Go all the way back to when we almost kissed while skating? No. Rupert will never let me live it down, knowing it’s been days, and I never told him anything about it.
“So, we went to the hockey game, right?” I hug myself for comfort.
“Uh-huh, and they put you two on Kiss Cam,” Rupert says from inside the fitting room, giggling.
My heart javelins from my chest to my toes. “How did you know that?” I spin on my heel, impatiently pacing, waiting for him to come out.
