Page 70 of Santa's Girl
BEAR
Also… about last night. Sorry I got a little caveman. Didn’t mean to put you up against the bricks like that. Got carried away.
My cheeks went hot. Fingers hovered over the screen before I typed back.
ME
Kinda liked it. Wasn’t complaining.
The typing bubble popped up instantly.
BEAR
Round two. My place?
F me, the butterflies.
ME
I have work in the morning. Margie just got me a job at the community center…
A full minute passed before he responded.
BEAR
Babe, you’re killing me.
I smiled, soft and secret.
This was happening.
And for once, I didn’t want to overthink it. I just wantedhim.
I texted back.
ME
Then earn it. Ask me out again. Properly.
Seconds later:
BEAR
Tomorrow. 6PM. Dinner. Firelight. Just us. Wear something that’ll drive me insane.
I grinned.
Done.
I don’t even remember walkingthrough the front doors.
One minute I was waving to Aunt Margie, still half-asleep, coffee thermos in one hand, and the next I was dodging a toddlerin a tutu doing cartwheels down the hallway while the front desk phone rang like it was on fire.
Apparently, the job wasDirector of Events, Acting/Temporary/Figure-it-out-as-you-go.
Which translated to:Here’s the keys, good luck.
I’d barely hung up my coat before three people shoved clipboards at me, asking about rental times, updated flyers, and the missing DJ for the senior holiday sock hop scheduled for Friday night. (Didn’t even know sock hops still existed. Learned something new.)
