Page 2 of Blood Oath Christmas
The small candle on the table shoots off little beams of light that flicker in Frank’s eyes as he squeezes my hand.Bortnianski Concertoplays softly in the background. Perfect for Christmas time. Earlier, it was too busy and there were too many voices to hear the holiday music.
My stomach churns at the serious look in Frank's eyes and I panic, speaking before he has a chance to.
“How was work?” I say so quickly my words are a bit jumbled. “Did the parents of that boy come in?”
Frank is a school principal and has been dealing with an unruly boy who is dead set on becoming the worst bully. PoorFrank has been trying to set up a meeting with the kid’s parents for a while now.
He frowns at my interruption but nods. “Yeah, and they weren’t too happy. Josh, the student, seems to take after his mother. I swear, that woman is horrible! It’s easy to see that she runs her house with a strong hand.”
I open my mouth to respond, but he holds up his free hand. “We need to talk about Christmas,” he says. “It’s less than two weeks away, and you still haven’t given me an answer.”
Letting go of his hand, I lean back in my chair. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” I say after a minute.
“You’ve met my parents before. Why are you so hesitant now?”
Because it’s too much like a relationship, I want to blurt out. But I also don’t want to hurt his feelings. I may not be in love with Frank as a significant other, but he’s important to me, and I don’t want to do anything to hurt him.
“I don’t feel comfortable spending Christmas at your parents’ cabin… with them.”
Frank leans back in his chair and regards me for a long minute. “You’re afraid of what they’ll think about us.”
It’s not a question, but I nod anyway. “They’re constantly on your ass to settle down, get married, and have children. If I go and we spend Christmas together like that, your mother will probably start planning our wedding.”
I chuckle at that. His mother probably has a standing reservation at her church for when her only son decides to take a wife.
“Would that be so bad?”
I freeze, my eyes widening. My heart thumps in my chest, and my mouth goes dry.
That’s too close to a marriage proposal for my liking.
“Frank—”
He cuts me off with a wave of his hand and a shake of his head, but I can see the hurt in his eyes. “I was just teasing,” he says, but he wasn’t, and we both know it.
Glancing at my watch, I get to my feet and force a smile on my face. “I have to get back to work. Got a lot to do before closing up.”
He stands and walks around the table, giving me another dry kiss on my cheek. “Text me when you’re home so I know you made it safely.”
I nod, then turn and head toward the kitchen. My stomach rolls with guilt. I should have cut things off with Frank a long time ago when I realized he was taking our fake relationship too seriously. But I didn’t want to. I enjoy our arrangement and I love being around Frank. Most of the time.
Now, I let things go too far, and he’s hurt. I have no one to blame but myself. He can’t control the way he feels, just as I can’t help it that I don’t feel the same way.
The next couple of hours go by quickly as I do the closing duties. Once the customers are gone—I didn’t even see Konstantin leave—and the kitchen and dining room are clean, I let the staff go home for the night.
I’m just about to lock up when I spot the large garbage bag that didn’t get taken outside to the dumpsters.
“Well, crap,” I mutter, grabbing the heavy bag and dragging it to the back door. I have to walk backward, tugging the trash with me because it’s so heavy.
When I reach the dumpsters, I pause.How the hell am I going to lift this thing high enough to put inside the bin?
“I didn’t do it, you have to believe me!”
My head jerks up at the shrill male voice raised in fear. Stepping to the side of the garbage bins, I lean around a bush and look toward the sound.
“I don’t have to believe you, David,” another male voice says. His tone is cool and calm, yet somehow sinister. “And the fact is, I don’t like you, so it really doesn’t matter whether I believe you or not.”
“Plea—”
