Page 18 of Santa Baby Maybe
“You do. Anytime anyone says anything nice about your work, your ideas, your appearance. You blush and then tuck your hair behind your ear and look down at your feet.”
“I do not,” I insisted. “Do I?”
“Every time.”
“I guess…I guess I’m just not used to them. I was raised by my dad and he was not someone who threw around compliments a lot. He was a Marine sergeant and more of his focus was on discipline, structure, and performance. He had pretty high expectations that I mostly disappointed. Don’t get me wrong, I love my dad. He’s the best. He’s just who he is.”
“That’s funny,” he said, lost in his musings.
“What’s funny?”
“You were raised by someone in the military and yet you’re…”
“Do not suggest I fit into a category again or I will pinch you under your ribs so hard you’ll squeal like a pig,” I warned.
Obviously he didn’t take my threat seriously because he laughed. “I meant, you surprise me, Joy. I was also in the military. Army. It’s how I got the money to go college.”
“Were you deployed?”
He nodded. “Afghanistan, but just for one year. Thankfully, the team I was with made it through the year without anyone getting blown up. I’m still on Active Reserve.”
“Because you believe in service.”
“No.” He corrected me. “I don’t want you to think I’m that altruistic or heroic. It’s more like I feel I owe them a debt. They basically saved me when I was eighteen. Gave me clothes, food, a cot, and structure. Every day I woke up I knew exactly what I was supposed to do and that was bliss for me.”
I wanted to ask him why that sounded so important to him. The structure, the discipline. Then, on the heels of that thought, I thought how well he and my dad would get along.
“Looks like they’re starting to break out the tea,” he said, glancing over at the group of ornament makers. “No wild drunken Sunday afternoons for this crowd.”
I smiled. “Absolutely not. This is clean Christmas fun. There’s plenty if you want to stay and have some canapés.”
His eyes narrowed as if I might be teasing him. Almost like he knew how silly he’d sounded in our earlier meeting, rejecting the idea of canapés outright. Only I wasn’t teasing him. I just wanted him to stay a little longer and have tiny cucumber sandwiches with me.
Hopping off the desk, he patted his stomach. “Can’t. Stuffed with twenty-dollar eggs, remember? I’m going to go home and commit to watching the Broncos and obsessively checking my fantasy football webpage.”
I laughed. “See? You obviously have no problem with commitment when it comes to the right subject matter.”
He smiled. Then, with his chin, he nodded toward the group. “You did good. They look like they’re having fun.”
I resisted the urge to tuck my hair behind my ear. “It was your idea. I just executed it.”
He was about to walk away but I had this sudden instinct to stop him so I reached for his hand. He glanced down at where we connected and then looked me in the eye.
Gah, his eyes were so freaking beautifully blue.
“I just wanted to say, I’m truly sorry your date didn’t work out. I know what’s like to want something and feel like it’s always out of reach.”
He squeezed my hand. “Thanks, Joy.”
I pulled my hand back and stuffed it in my lap. I told myself it was not tingling.
It was totally NOT tingling.
Shit, it was tingling!
I did not want to have hand tingles for a guy who I knew could never be into me. Instead, I lifted it and gave him another wave. “See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah. Enjoy the rest of your day,” he said and then headed out of the building and didn’t look back once.
