Page 36 of The Alien Reindeer's Bounty
Alyse gasped. “You said you weren’t interested in him.”
“We had coffee and pie,” Odessa confessed. The phone vibrated with another text.
I showed you my tool. Pls respond.
“Oooh,” Bonnie whistled. “Is that what the kids are calling it nowadays?”
“What? No. We talked. Nothing happened.” Last Friday, he came over and they talked. Just talked, about everything and nothing. The conversation was easy, like they hung out every evening after work and didn’t have a twelve-year gap between them. And they started texting each other a lot.
Having dinner with friends. Can’t talk now, she typed back.
“Except you’re glowing,” Luz—or Liz—added, finally joining the conversation.
“And sending dirty pictures to each other,” Bonnie added.
“I’m not glowing,” Odessa protested automatically. “It’s the beer and it’s warm in here.”
“Sure,” Bonnie said, giggling.
“I sign your paychecks, you know.”
Bonnie rolled her eyes. “Way to kill the mood. We almost believed you were a human under all that bossiness.”
Yup. Time to go home. The beer loosened Bonnie’s tongue and Odessa needed to leave before her best employee said something she couldn’t take back.
“It’s been a scream, ladies, but someone’s gotta do the laundry.” Odessa tossed two twenties on the table, which should cover more than her fair share of the bill.
“Sure, laundry is what you’re going to do,” Alyse said wistfully.
Outside, fluffy flakes drifted through the early December air. Lampposts created pools of light in the darkened parking lot. Odessa hustled into her car, turned the engine over, and pulled her scarf over her nose while she waited for the interior to warm up.
When her breath no longer hung in the air, she headed out. The drive normally took fifteen minutes. While the snow failed to stick to the road, she drove cautiously. Her first time driving in icy weather, she slid off the road and slammed the back half of her car into a fencepost. She never wanted to repeat that sickening sensation of moving with zero control and then coming to a sudden stop.
Mentally, she went over her task list. The unfortunate underwear situation was true, so that had to happen. Packages filled with Ruby’s Christmas gifts arrived from the internet, carefully hidden in the garage. She’d like to get those wrapped and under the tree. The ones from Santa would remain hidden in the locked storage chest, but she should wrap them tonight while she had a chance.
Last year, Ruby went snooping and found a shopping bag of stocking stuffers crammed in the back of Odessa’s closet. As far as uninventive hiding places went, closets were at the top of the list. Odessa had it coming, which is why she bought the plastic storage chest in the summer, claiming she needed a place to stash gardening gloves and whatnots.
The snow melted instantly when it touched the windshield. The wipers beat a steady rhythm, clearing away the melted flakes.
Earlier in the day, she considered inviting Mads over, but he was already at her house doing who knows what. Oddly, Mads using the spare key to let himself in didn’t bother her. It felt right.
They could watch a movie or something while she wrapped presents. A week had passed since their coffee and pie date—not that kind of date—and they texted every day, but she hadn’t spoken to him.
Which was fine. She had work. He knew that. They were both adults with responsibilities. A few texts, some of which might be considered flirtatious, was all the socializing she could handle.
If she invited him to stay for a movie, would he think it was a booty call? She chewed her bottom lip, thinking. Did she want it to be a booty call?
Mentally, she wasn’t there yet, considering that she hadn’t had a casual hook-up since… Well, since the night that made Ruby, to be honest. She wanted more than a booty call and hoped Mads felt the same.
She didn’t want to give him the wrong impression. Sex was awesome and all, but last week had been fun. Honestly fun. She laughed until she couldn’t catch her breath and her sides ached. She wanted more of that.
She wanted more of Mads, too. She wanted his hands on her. She wanted him above her, holding her down on the bed, and then inside her. Filling her.
For a moment, her mind spun in place, imagining Mads without his shirt. Or pants. Or anything. Maybe just a scarf. Or a Santa Hat.
Yeah. She’d let him keep his hat on.
He probably had the kind of abs that came in a six-pack. He should have sent her a picture of that instead of his monkey wrench.
