Page 59 of The Santa Rules
“Amber. I would say it’s nice to see you, but it’s not.”
“Babe,” a voice slurs from behind her, and I see Chuck walking up.
Hardy’s grip on me tightens as Chuck’s eyes look me over from head to toe. “Bella, what a pleasant surprise.”
I wish I could say the same, but his attention creeps me out. I don’t know what Amber sees in him, and I have no clue what teenage me saw in him, but I made a lot of mistakes after my mom died when I was trying to grieve and figure out who I was.
Amber looks between us and slaps Chuck in the gut. She turns back to me and props her hand on her hip, flicking the hair from her ponytail off her collar. “Shouldn’t you two be working on the workshop?”
“Just picking up some last-minute items.” It’s not technically a lie. “We really should be going.” I thread a hand through Hardy’s as I lead us away from them. I don’t have to look back to know he’s giving Chuck some serious side-eye as we pass.
We quickly head to the checkout, and at Hardy’s request, I grab some sodas for the road while he starts scanning items in self-checkout. After we load everything into the back of his truck, I climb in the cab and wait for him to return the cart. As soon as his ass hits the seat and he closes his door, he turns to me right as I’m tugging his collar.
With our noses pressed against the other’s, he smiles against my lips. “Guess we had the same idea.”
I nod as he presses his lips to mine and steals the breath from my lungs. The kiss is deep and slow as he takes his time exploring my mouth. His hands are gentle, holding my face as if it’s the most precious thing to him.
I let out a sigh when he pulls back. “What was that for?”
His penetrating gaze is intense as he stares at me with so much longing, I can’t help but look away, trying to gather my thoughts. Hands still on my cheeks, he tilts my head up, forcing me to look at him, but he doesn’t say anything, not with his mouth anyway. His eyes are a different story. It’s as though he’s trying to process a lifetime of feelings, willing me to see the rawest part of who he is. And even though he doesn’t answer my question with words, I can almost hear his thoughts as his eyes continue to shift between mine, like he’s unsure which one to focus on because he’s too close.
You matter to me.
I will protect you.
I’m falling for you.
Oh shit, does he love me? Do I love him?
A loud knock at the window startles us. We look over to find Chuck leering, giving us a thumbs-up that feels like a cheap assessment of a moment that’s entirely too big to explain with words.
“I hate that guy,” Hardy mutters out of the side of his mouth.
“I know you do,” I say, grabbing his cheek to shift his focus back to me. “Thank you.”
His brows pinch in confusion. “For what?”
“For letting me fight my own battle in there. I could feel the anger and tension in your body. Most guys would have gone all alpha on him and gotten in his face. And younger me would have thrived off that. But now that I’m older and wiser,I can pick my own battles, and I appreciate your silent support.”
“I’ve known a lot of guys like him. Running his mouth, looking for a fight. But I have a little girl to look out for, and I’m all she has. If I lose my temper and punch him, she suffers while I go to jail. He’s not worth losing her over. And after you told me how you handed Amber her ass the other day, I was kinda hoping for my own front-row seat for round two.”
I pull him in for another kiss, and there’s another knock on the window as Chuck makes a finger-in-the-hole gesture followed by another thumbs-up.
“Okay, I need to get away from this douche canoe. I only have so much self-control.”
“Agreed.”
CHAPTER 19
BELLA
We get everything unloaded from the truck and into the house, and Hardy helps me carry down all the wrapping supplies from my closet. I didn’t even try to jump his bones when we were in my bedroom, and I’m proud of myself for that. Hardy, on the other hand, keeps checking me out, and I catch him readjust himself every chance he gets.
Laying out all the supplies on the kitchen table, I ask the hard-hitting question. “Ribbon or bows?”
“There is nothing I’d love more than to see you wrapped up in this and nothing else,” he says, holding up a spool of ribbon. “Actually, this gives me an idea.”
“I love where your mind is headed, but we have to wrap these gifts first or we’ll never finish.”
