Page 11 of In Stockings
I relivethat date with the Hart Pack for the next four days straight. Was it a date? Or did they simply invite me to placate their daughter? Did they actually want me there?
They were charming and funny and kind, plus interested in me and my life. But perhaps that was mere politeness. I certainly wasn’t asked for my number or another date.
Damn it! I should have just asked for one myself.
Monday and Tuesday at Santa's grotto are less chaotic than the weekend. That is until school ends and the floodgates open. By seven pm on Tuesday night, I’m rushed off my oversized feet and looking forward to a much-needed glass of wine when I make it home.
But my fantasy of nursing my wine curled up on the sofa with a warm blanket and more cake than you can shake a stick out is interrupted by that scent of pine. I sniff.
Have I been obsessing about those alphas so much I’m now hallucinating their scents?
It’s definitely there in the air, the butterflies in my stomach going crazy with excitement. I swing my gaze around, and there Craig is, strolling towards me.
“Hi,” I chirp.
“Hey,” he stops in front of me with his hands in his pockets. “I’ve been sent to hunt down that unicorn.”
“An impossible mission.”
“What?”
“You know unicorns don’t exist, right, Craig?”
“I didn’t think elves did either but then …” he gestures towards me. “And I’m hoping a magic elf like you will know where I can find this unicorn.”
“Magic, am I?” I say, fluttering my eyelashes at him dramatically. He laughs, and I beckon him to follow me to the gift shop, which has a section dedicated to unicorns.
“Holy shit,” he says, “This would be heaven to Lyra. She’d want us to buy everything on display.”
I reach up on my toes for the unicorn I remember Lyra had described. My fingers graze the bottom of the cardboard box, but I can’t quite grip it. I huff a little in frustration, and then I feel a warm body step close to mine, so close I can hear his breath, but not close enough that we’re actually touching. His knuckles graze the small of my back.
“Here, I’ll get it.” A hand appears above my head and takes down the toy. “You’re pretty small, even for an elf.”
My breath has stalled in my throat, and my heart has stopped beating. Craig Hart is touching me. Only accidentally, only so I don’t step backwards into him, but it feels divine.
He steps away, and I stifle a disappointed sigh.
When I turn around, he’s examining the contents of the box. “This is the one.”
“Can I help you with anything else?” I ask.You know, like undressing.
He shakes his head. “No, we’ve got everything else. This was the last thing on the list.”
“Lucky bastard, I still have all my shopping to do.”
He blinks. “Christmas is next week.”
“I know. I like leaving things to the last minute.”
We stand facing one another, those green eyes of his roaming my face. Then he jolts. “Shit, I forgot. Lyra wanted me to give you this.” He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and tugs out a piece of paper folded in half and covered in bright colours. He hands it over, and for a fraction of a second, our fingers brush.
He touched me again. I’m surprised I’m still standing and haven’t swooned to the floor.
Lyra has drawn a picture of an elf with ridiculous shoes and a floppy hat.
“Is this me?” I ask.
“Yep.”
