Chapter 8

CHAPTER

EIGHT

FOX

Damn the mistletoe.

I was trained to pay attention to every single detail. Anything out of the ordinary could mean an ambush—certain death—if it was overlooked. I spotted that damn green bundle dangling when I entered the kitchen. Practically took it out with my head.

But then Alida happened.

I expected her to hide in the bedroom until I took her out to introduce her to everyone. But I should have known better. She’s too stubborn and independent for that shit. Finding her in the kitchen holding court with my family is incredibly fitting of the strong, confident woman I’ve come to know. If I hadn’t been so distracted jerking off in the shower, I might have foreseen this disaster.

Instead, I practically offered myself up as a sacrificial lamb when I chased after her, catching her right underneath that damn mistletoe.

If I thought I had it bad for Alida before, it’s nothing compared to the way I’ve come alive since that kiss. Not the silly, chaste smooch on the lips. I could have handled that . It was the second one, where I abandoned all caution and sank right in. For the first time since I’ve known Alida, she surrendered to me and let down her steel walls.

Now I’m all fucked up in the head.

“Are you pouting because Santa wouldn’t let you sit on his lap?” Alida teases as she comes up behind me, looping her arm through mine, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. Snowflakes dust the top of her red stocking hat and the shoulders of her coat. She’s fallen right into the act of perfect fake girlfriend, as if she’s prepared for this role her whole life.

In the span of only a few hours, my family has fallen in love with her. Grandma Lola promised to share her highly coveted family recipe for cherry muffins. Mom’s convinced her to help wrap Christmas presents later today. Jazzy’s been bugging me about picking out a fucking ring while were in the most romantic Christmas town ever. Wouldn’t this be the perfect place to propose? My niece and nephew begged her to ice skate with them. Even Grandpa Eddie’s been smiling every time she cracks a joke or lets out an f-bomb around the littles.

“I’d break Santa’s lap.”

She leans back for a moment before saying, “That’s probably true.”

“Did you just look at my ass?”

“What?” she says unapologetically. “Just because I kind of hate you doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a nice ass when I see one.”

“Thank you?”

“It’s much nicer without clothes, though.”

“How—”

“Most people get undressed in the bathroom when they’re sharing a room with their pretend girlfriend.”

“You two lovebirds coming?” Grandma Lola hollers from across the street, waving at us like she’s flagging down a taxi. She stands in front of a horse drawn sleigh that doesn’t look big enough to accommodate everyone. If we weren’t planning to stay in town for dinner and the evening tree lighting, I’d use the excuse to head back to the cabin.

This whole place is too people-y for me. It’s why I live in the woods. Alone.

“I’ve always wanted to ride in a sleigh!” Alida gushes.

“You’re laying it on a little thick, don’t you think?” I grumble as we cross the street to meet the rest of the Hansen gang.

“I’ve never been,” she says, sounding genuine. “But maybe there’s not enough room for all of us?”

At first, I thought her love of Christmas was an act. But now I’m beginning to think she’s been harboring a secret love for the holidays she hasn’t allowed herself to experience. My plans for evading the sleigh ride suddenly flip, my new mission brief comprised of a single bullet point: Make sure the woman with the sparkling blue eyes and oh-so-kissable lips gets to fulfill her Christmas wish. “You can sit on my lap,” I offer.

“Great idea!” Grandma Lola says, clapping her gloved hands.

“If you want,” I add quietly. “I don’t want you to feel pressured?—”

“Worried you’ll like it too much?” Alida teases.

Before I can defend myself, Jazzy corrals everyone like the elementary teacher she is. In under two minutes, the Hansen clan is loaded into the sleigh, and Alida’s cushy ass is nestled in my lap. She presses her back into my chest, and I wrap my arms around her middle.

I brush my lips against her ear and ask, “What do you want for Christmas, baby girl?”

Alida shudders, letting out a laugh.

“Too soon?”

“Too creepy,” she laughs. She turns her head, meeting my gaze. Her breath warms my cheek as she says, “But I can’t tell you what I want for Christmas anyway.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’d put me straight on Santa’s naughty list if I did, and I’m pretty sure I just narrowly escaped it. Don’t want to tempt fate.”

“Alida,” I growl in a low warning. Never mind that I’d happily write another six-figure check if she’d just confess whatever dirty secret she’s holding back. I know I’m supposed to keep my hands off her, but in this moment with her ass nestled in my lap, half an inch from a hardening cock, I can’t seem to remember why she’s off limits. This pain in the ass, stubborn, sexy woman is thawing my icy interior one outrageous comment at a time.

“Alida, I’m just so glad you could join us!” Jazzy says. “Fox must really like you. He never brings anyone home for the holidays.”

“This isn’t exactly home,” I remind her.

Jazzy waves a hand, brushing me off. “You know what I mean.”

“I’m happy to be included,” she says, sounding like she means it. With Kayleigh away at college, who was she planning to spend the holidays with?

“Ethan and Lily adore you,” Jazzy says of the littles. “I really hope you’ll be coming to more family holidays,” she adds. “Do you want kids?”

“Jazzy, back off,” I warn.

“Why? Alida doesn’t scare easily, do you?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Don’t what?” I ask automatically.

She pins me with her gaze, a flirty smile gracing her lips. “Scare easily.”

“If I hadn’t seen it for myself, I wouldn’t think you scare at all,” I say, lowering my voice so Jazzy’s eavesdropping ears can’t hear me.

“I guess I never did say thank you,” Alida admits, her forehead grazing the side of my cheek as she snuggles closer. I guess she’s concerned about overheard confessions too.

“No, you didn’t.” I press my lips to the shell of her ear and add, “But you could tell me what you want for Christmas, and we can call it even.”

Alida locks her eyes with mine for several beats, the debate dancing in those baby blues. “You really want to know?” she asks, her cheeks flushing a little deeper. Maybe it’s the cold, or maybe it’s the dirty thoughts she’s hiding. If I had any sense, I wouldn’t play this game.

But if Alida wants to be on Santa’s naughty list this year, fuck it. I do too.