Chapter 2

“Are you all right?” he asks for the second time in the last five minutes.

My heart is racing from the punch of adrenaline and a bit from his cologne that fills my nose as I draw a deep breath. Damn, why does he have to smell so good?

“Yes, thank you—again.” I hate that, out of all the people in the building, this has to happen in front of Dean. Him constantly helping me up and catching me before I fall is so freaking contradictory. He’s the first guy I’ve thought about since Troy. I thought maybe he felt something for me, but then he brushed me off as if I were nothing.

How can he be both people in my head?

How can he be so sweet one minute but then ignore me completely?

It’s not as if he didn’t know about my past. In fact, that night we spoke about it. I told him about how this holiday would be hard because of my ex. We talked about work, life, our lives since both our breakups. It was great, but then he acted like I was nothing.

Although, that’s what we said before it happened.

I’m attempting to convince myself that was exactly what we both agreed to and he’s just keeping his word, but . . . I hoped.

I came in the next day, smiling with a coffee for him. He walked right past me and hasn’t said a word about what happened since then.

It’s incomprehensible to me that I finally let myself feel something other than rage toward a man, only to be . . . ignored after sex.

“Of course.” He smiles and presses the call button.

“Hello?” A man on the other end replies.

“Hi, this is Dean Pritchard and we’re stuck, can you get us going please?”

“Yes, is everyone okay?”

Dean looks back at me. “Yes, Holly Brickman and I are in here, but we’re not moving and the emergency lights are on.”

The man clears his throat. “Yes, we’re aware. There was a power outage due to the heavy snow, and unfortunately, it looks like a transformer blew, leaving the whole block out of power. The generator is broken as well, found that out late last night when we tested it, but as soon as we can get you both out, we will. Okay?”

“How long?” I yell. “I need to know!”

Dean looks back at me since the button wasn’t down and the guy on the other line couldn’t exactly hear me. He then presses it and speaks. “How long do you think that could be?”

“Not sure, sir. I’ll get back to you when I can. We’re working on getting you guys out just as fast as we can.”

“Great,” I mutter. “Another thing to add to why I hate the damn holidays. And old buildings.”

Dean shakes his head, and his brows furrow. “Why the hell do you hate the holidays? No one hates this time of year.”

“Well, I have a ton of reasons. Snow. Santa. Stupid men. Power outages. Elevators being stuck. The list really goes on . . .”

He removes his suit jacket, revealing his tight shirt that hugs all the right places. I try not to remember how it felt to have him moving above me as I gripped those arms—I fail. The memories of that night flood me. The scotch, taste of his lips, and how amazing every moment we spent together was.

“Santa?” Dean asks. “You hate Santa?”

“Yeah, him and his stupid list, which apparently I landed on the naughty side of two years ago. My gift was to get dumped. It really changed my feelings on all things holiday related.”

“Ahh.” He nods. “Yes, now I get it.”

When it happened, it wasn’t something I was quiet about. Not that I could’ve been if I wanted to be. I sobbed all the time. I swear I should’ve carried around a sign that said: Caution Slippery When Wet. With the amount of tears I cried, I left a trail. Plus, half my company was invited to the wedding that would’ve been seven days from today. Sending out the I-just-got-dumped email was super fun.

“Not my favorite time of year thanks to a certain someone.”

“You mean that idiot of an ex you were engaged to?”

“Please . . . I don’t want to talk about him.” Especially not with him.

“Understood.” He nudges me. “I could help you forget him again.”

I roll my eyes. “No thanks. Besides, I don’t really think about him at all.”

I’m too busy thinking about you.

“I’m glad to hear that. He wasn’t good enough for you anyway.” He shrugs and folds his jacket in half and then sits on the floor beside it. He doesn’t speak as he extends his hand for me to sit there.

“Why is that?”

Dean cracks his neck, looking a little uncomfortable as he offers a simple, “Because.”

I laugh and cross my arms. “Well, that clears all that up.”

“Why don’t you sit, Holly? We could be in here for a while.”

“Thank you.” I sit on the jacket, crossing my ankles in front of me since I’m not wearing panties. “I’m sorry I was being sort of bitchy. Troy does that to me.”

“Don’t be. I don’t exactly like talking about my ex either.”

I nod. “Yeah, they aren’t usually a great topic.”

“Okay, so let’s move to neutral ground. We could talk about us,” he suggests with a hint of mischief. “Or we can just be quiet . . .”

Oh, the possibilities for that suggestion are as endless as they are unlikely. And with as low on the list as talking to Dean about Tony is, talking to him about what happened is even lower.

“Can we keep talking? Please? Just not about any of the aforementioned things.”

“Okay then, what about your pitch, do you want to practice?”

I laugh. No freaking way am I going to tell him my pitch. “I’d rather swallow nails than go there.”

“Is it because you aren’t confident?”

I raise my brow. “No, it’s because I would rather not give you an edge.”

Or because I don’t have it done and don’t want him to know that.

“I don’t need an edge, babe. I plan to kick your ass.”

“Really? You’ve had a whole a day to get your presentation together, and you think you’re going to win?”

Dean’s eyes narrow and he leans close. “You hate Christmas. This is all about why the holidays are the best time of the year. You’re sort of the poster child for who not to hire.”

“I can fake it.”

“Ahh, but I know the real thing. You’re exquisite when you’re not faking it.”

I scoff. “Dean! You can’t bring up my orgasms or what happened with us that will never happen again.”

He chuckles that deep laugh that does things to my girly parts. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Why would you even want this account? You’ll have to practically pretend you live in Santa’s workshop and you’re his bitch.”

Admitting this will make me sound so stupid, but it’s the truth. “I want to love the holidays again. I want to remember the magic and smile when I put my tree up again. I thought . . . I thought that maybe this would help.”

Dean’s hand rests on mine. “You shouldn’t have ever had to feel that way, Holls.”

I shake my head, not wanting to spill any more of my crazy in front of him. “Next topic.”

“All right, why don’t you tell me why you ran off last week?”

He’s like a beacon for topics I want to avoid. “Jesus Cringle! Can’t we talk about the damn weather instead of the worst topics possible?”

“Cringle?”

I know . . . I’m a dork. My mother used to say it when she was mad instead of cursing, so I can’t help it. “It’s my version of Christ.”

His smile brightens the dim space. “Adorable.”

My stomach clenches, and I look away. Is he calling me adorable or does he think the word is adorable? Either way, it shouldn’t matter. Dean and I are nothing, and we’re about to battle for this account where I will make everyone believe the holidays are nothing but joy because I’m a professional.

“Do you think we could talk about something else?”

“You want to talk, I pick what we talk about. You just mentioned the sex, I’d like to find out what the hell had you bolt like that.” His eyes are the most beautiful shade of green.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Really, they are almost hypnotic in their stupid, deep color.

“I disagree.”

I tuck my hair behind my ear and sigh. “I didn’t bolt. It was late, we clearly hadn’t been thinking, and I didn’t want to make things awkward. I got my coat, and when I looked back, your office door was closed and the lights were off.”

Dean pushes a piece of my hair that fell from its place and shakes his head. “I was waiting for you, Holls. I heard you talking to yourself.”

My eyes bulge. “What?”

“I heard you say this was a mistake and that you wished you never saw me again.”

It was what I said to myself to make whatever happened next okay. “I . . .”

“I get it, you were scared.”

My heart races as I stare into his eyes. “Of what?”

He leans in closer. “Me.”

He does scare me. I’m scared because my brain clearly stops functioning when he’s around and I will end up saying something dumb or making a bigger fool of myself. I’m scared that I’ll spend another Christmas/birthday wondering what’s wrong with me. I’m terrified that, once again, I’ll be left alone.

“What do you want me to say?”

“The truth for starters.”

“The truth is that we had sex and then you never called.”

He shakes his head. “You wanted me to call?”

I don’t know what I wanted. “No. Yes. I just . . . let’s not do this, okay?”

“There’s a reason I didn’t call. Contrary to what you think, Holly, I’m not a dick.”

“Regarding work, you are . . .”

“Okay, maybe with that.”

I sigh, which is a bit of a laugh, and so does he. We all know that Dean is ruthless when it comes to his job. He started at the bottom and has fought his way up. With the project manager being transferred to the Phoenix office, there will be a very big promotion up for grabs here. His name plaque might as well be on the office door already.

“What are you heading to California for?” I ask, hoping we can talk about anything other than the sex and lack of calls.

He releases a heavy breath. “My family lives there, and I’m going home for the holidays and staying for a while after.”

“What do you mean a while?”

Dean rubs the back of his head. “My mother has been begging me to stay closer to home. I guess she misses me or something.” He laughs. “So, I figure maybe I’ll see what’s out there and interview a bit. I don’t know. It depends on the promotion here too . . .”

My heart falls, and I have the strongest urge to cry. I don’t want him to leave, which is stupid and scary. I wonder if the cold air does something to my brain? It would add another item to the list of things I hate about December.

“Oh.” Is all I seem to get out.

“Oh?”

“I guess I’m surprised you’d even think of leaving Chicago. Especially since you seem to be the golden boy here. It didn’t even occur to me that you’d transfer out there or leave the company when we all know you’re going to get the promotion.”

Dean shakes his head. “You’re the one they keep going to for all these pitches. We both know that the promotion is yours.”

I jerk my head back. He’s crazy. “Please, you win every account you pitch for. It’s why we all hate you.”

“You included?” he asked as he clearly fought to keep the smirk off his lips.

I wish I did. I wish he wasn’t so damn good looking. I wish I didn’t dream of him every night and didn’t find his confidence so damn attractive. I would give anything for the simmer of feelings I have for him to die out. That would really make it easier.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would, in fact.”

“Well, too bad.”

He clutches his chest. “You wound me, and at Christmas time?”

“Please. You’re just fine. Back to the job thing . . .”

“There’s nothing definite, it’s just a possibility. I’m really just appeasing my family.”

I understand that. My mother is an overbearing crazy person. She was over last night, telling me how I needed to get my life together. It’s been almost two years, and she’s worried I’m going to die alone with a gaggle of cats.

“No matter what happens, I hope it’s what you want to happen, even if it means you have to move.”

Dean takes his other hand and laces our fingers together. “What if I told you that I hope I don’t find anything?”

“Why would you say that?”

His thumb grazes the top of my hand. “Because I like someone here.”

Our eyes meet, and my heart begins to race. “You do? Who?” I ask, really hoping it’s my name out of his mouth.

Ugh. I shouldn’t want that, but the other night changed something inside me.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He finally lets his smirk out as he throws my words back in face.

“You’re such an ass. Maybe I don’t really want to know. Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t care who you like because, if you cared, you’d tell me,” I counter.

Dean turns, his eyes meet mine, and there’s no mincing words this time. “I like you, Holly. I like you, and the other night wasn’t just some random drunken fling.”

I shake my head to clear the fog of emotions that start to cloud my vision. If he liked me, he would’ve called. He would’ve done something to let me know instead of forcing himself to say it because we’re trapped in an elevator. Hell, he probably only said it because we are stuck in this elevator.

Still, my heart begins to flutter. “You don’t have to say nice things because we’re stuck in an elevator. I’m a big girl. I can handle a one-night stand or whatever we’re calling it.”

“I’m not saying it for any of those reasons. I’m saying it because I mean it. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to call you, it was that I knew you didn’t want me to call you. I heard you say it was a mistake. Then the day after we slept together, I found out I was pitching against you, and I wasn’t exactly sure how the hell we were going to pick up from that. Most of all, I wanted to call. I wanted so fucking badly to see you again.”

Why does he make me feel gooey inside? Why do I want to lunge at him and kiss him? Why can’t I shut down these feelings when I know all he wants is this job?

Because I’m crazy, that’s why.

I get to my feet, needing the leverage and distance. Not that there’s anywhere to go when I’m stuck in an elevator, but still.

I look at Dean, wondering if what he’s saying is true. “Dean . . .”

“No, don’t say anything to try to make what I said a lie.”

“Why do the holidays seem to bring around so much confusion and hurt with men?” I mutter.

I used to love Christmas. It was truly the most magical time, but the bad memories always take hold and remove the joy I used to feel. There are a thousand good memories to that one horrible one, but I know I’ll only ever really remember how much it hurt when he left me. This year probably hurts more than when he left. This Christmas Eve would’ve been my wedding day. On this holiday, I’ll eat another birthday cake instead of a wedding one.

I look to the ceiling. “Seriously, could they get the damn power started so I can hide? I’m completely hopeless when it comes to relationships.”

Dean gets to his feet, crowding me, making me feel everything because I can’t escape him. He pushes away a piece of my blonde hair that fell in my eye. “There’s still hope for you, Holly.”

I turn my head and bite my lip. “I don’t think so.”

He grips my chin so I’m forced to look at him. Dean’s eyes are intense, and there’s a layer of fear just lying beneath the surface. “You are not hopeless. You had a guy who didn’t see how great you are, who didn’t deserve you. You don’t see what you have around you or in front of you.”