Chapter One

Caitlin

"Do you have those documents yet?"

I look up from my computer to see my boss, Lachlan, leaning against the door frame, his hair a mess, his tie hanging loose around his neck, and his sleeves rolled up his tattooed forearms. My mouth goes dry.

The man is gorgeous. He's also the best boss I've ever had. And he has no clue that I'm madly in love with him. At least, I don't think he knows.

God, wouldn't that be embarrassing? It's already cliché as hell.

Of course the awkward, curvy assistant fell hard for the rich, charming boss lightyears out of her league approximately two minutes after meeting him. Virtually every single one of my favorite movies starts the same way.

Of course, most of them gloss over the filthy things said curvy assistant fantasizes about—like how she wants said boss to bend her over the desk and eat her for lunch. But that's beside the point.

The point is… Lachlan is gorgeous, successful, rich, and unlike a lot of men in his position, he isn't a jerk. He's incredible.

I’ve been working for him for weeks, and he’s been so freaking good to me. I’m not the only one. He treats everyone like they matter. Doesn’t matter who they are, to him, they’re important.

He could have anyone. He doesn't need me.

Yet…he doesn't date, either. He claims he doesn’t have time—which might actually be true. The man works more than anyone I’ve ever met. He spends most of his time at the office. I don’t think he’d leave at all if it weren’t for his sister.

I haven’t met her yet, but it’s obvious that he adores her. She gives him hell, and he happily lets her do it. So does Sinclair Evans, the co-owner of the company.

"Caitlin?" Lachlan’s brows furrow as he stares at me.

"Oh! Um…" I scramble for the documents he's been waiting on all morning, thrusting them across the desk toward him. My hand bumps against the Christmas tree on the edge of my desk, sending a small pink ball skittering across the surface.

Lachlan chuckles, scooping it up before it plunges off the edge onto the hardwood floor at his feet. "How many times have you done that today?"

I scowl at him instead of answering. "You're the one who insisted on putting the tree there," I remind him. "If I break it, it's your own fault."

"Grinch." A smile dances on his full lips as he thumbs through the stack of paperwork I gave him.

"You're the one with a Christmas fetish." There isn't much to celebrate when you spend every holiday alone like I do. It’s different for him. I guess Christmas is big with his sister, so the whole freaking office looks like Whoville vomited on it. With just two days to go before the holiday, I’m ready for it to be over and done with.

"Speaking of." He flicks his gaze in my direction, his jade eyes landing on me. "I still need your Christmas list."

"Seriously?"

"Hand it over." He thrusts his hand out, smirking behind his beard. “And there better not be any bullshit compromise gift like socks on it or you’re redoing it. I asked what you wanted, not what you thought it was acceptable to ask me to get you. You’ve stalled way too long already.”

I glance down at the list he insisted I make, fidgeting nervously. There are only two items on it, and it took me all week to add them, but they’re the only things I really want—aside from him, anyway. They’re also two things he can’t buy. Since I don't want him buying me anything, putting them on his ridiculous list seemed like the perfect way to meet his demand while avoiding the expensive gift he’s determined to get me.

But now that he's standing in front of me, I'm not so sure that's true. He's going to laugh. Or think I'm pathetic or something. Or else he'll fire me.

Crap. What if he fires me for not playing along?

"I'm not—"

“Is that the list?” He grabs the paper from my desk before I'm even finished lying my way out of handing it over.

I watch his face, my freaking heart in my throat, as he scans the two words written on the page, his brows climbing. I can’t read his expression, but it doesn’t look good.

His silence doesn’t sound good, either.

Anxiety claws through me. I should have lied and put something else on the list, like coffee. Everyone loves coffee. It’s delicious and hot and you can never drink too much of it.

"That's it?" he finally asks, an intensity in his voice that makes my stomach ache. "This is your list?"

"Yes," I whisper, wringing my hands together.

More silence, heavier than before. I feel his eyes on me, but I can't meet his gaze.

"Can I have it back now?" I ask.

"No."

I look up in time to watch him stomping out of my office. He seems… pissed.

My shoulders droop.

Of course he doesn't get it. He has his sister. They had parents who adored them before they died. He knows what it's like to be loved and have family. Not me. I've never had either. My entire life, I’ve been alone. Oh, I have parents. But my parents tossed me in boarding school as soon as they were able to do it and went back to their lives as if having me was a mistake. I can count on one hand the number of holidays I spent at home.

I desperately want to know what it’s like to have a family of my own…to belong with people who actually want me. So that's what I put on my list—love and a baby. I just left out the part where I want to know what it’s like to be loved by him... and where I want his baby.

I should have put socks on the stupid list instead because now he’s mad.

“I’m so Scrooged,” I groan, laying my head on my desk.