Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

ASHER

I sit at the bar, sipping a whiskey. I’m not a big drinker, but my head is a mess.

What the fuck was I thinking?

I wasn’t thinking. That’s the point. I was alone with Holly, staring into her sassy eyes, listening to her self-confident words. Then, an avalanche triggered in me. All my noble ideas about self-restraint and ignoring my desires went right out the window.

I sip my whiskey, looking at her latest text. This is wrong. I’m still playing games. Texting her is almost as tempting as kissing her. I should ditch this Secret Santa phone, buy her some scented candles, and be done with it. Then I can pretend the kiss never happened, just like she said.

She looked so angry with me. Was she angry that I kissed her or that I wasn’t kissing her again?

She made a good point when I wanted to go into the office and give that Derek douchebag a dressing down. She anonymously submitted a video to get her job. She irrefutably doesn’t want anybody to think she’s getting special treatment.

Special treatment is all I want to give her, but not in a workplace sense.

I wonder if she’s suspecting who her Secret Santa is. Her text seems to hint at that, but I don’t want to tear off that Band-Aid and reveal the sore spot beneath. There’s too much baggage with Holly and me.

Even as I sip my whiskey, I taste her lips instead. Her mouth was immediately addicting. Her body made me want to be with just her, nobody else. I’m not saying I’m some lunatic becoming infatuated or anything like that.

In that moment, as we kissed , we felt trapped in a damn snow globe. I didn’t care and couldn’t think about anybody or anything else. It was like the future ceased to exist. The past didn’t matter. It was just us, all shaken up, the holiday spirit filling us up more than this booze.

“Another, sir?” the barman asks.

“No. Get me a Diet Coke, please.”

“Sure.”

The temptation for another drink is there. I won’t lie. All I’ve got to do is think about my childhood, and I find the willpower to temper those desires. If only it were as easy to control my desire for my best friend’s sister. My life would be a hell of a lot easier in that case.

“Mr. Mitchell?”

I turn. It’s Mia, the woman with the same name as my ex. She’s dressed differently from work. She’s still looking at me in a way that makes me uncomfortable, implication in her expression.

“Hello, Mia,” I say politely.

“I thought it was you.” She giggles for no reason. “What are you doing sitting all alone, sir?” She looks buzzed, more forward than usual.

“Just clearing my head. Are you with your boyfriend?”

I ask this to make it clear I’m not interested. Judging from her reaction, she takes it to mean I’m fishing for information. “No, I’m here with some friends…”

“Oh, okay.” How can I get rid of her without being rude?

“Sir …” She moves her hand across the bar. “There was something I wanted to say. I’ve been wanting to say it ever since you started. You might think I’m stepping over the line. I might regret it once this wine wears off, but …”

“Let me stop you there, Mia. I don’t want you to say anything you’re going to regret. If you still want to say it when you sober up, you can in the professional setting of the office.”

She looks stung. I feel like an ass, but it would be worse to lead her on, wouldn’t it?

“Okay,” she mutters. “Fine. Have a great night, sir .”

So much for establishing myself as the approachable boss when I started on this team. She leaves, tossing her head. I put down a fifty, grab my cell, and leave the bar, abandoning my Coke. I’ve only had one drink, so technically, I can drive, but I decide to go for a walk first.

There’s an obnoxious amount of Christmas merriment everywhere I go. Bright lights and carol singers and people talking loudly about their holiday plans.

Snowflake is right. I really am a Grinch. Not that she knows she’s calling me Grinch.

I sit in a park, not caring about the cold. It clears my head.

I take out the phone. I want to speak to Holly about the “Derek situation,” but she probably won’t discuss it after the kiss. Maybe she’ll talk to her Secret Santa.

Me: How did work go today?

Her response comes right away. I think of her at home, staring at her phone, trying to distract herself but drawn back to it repeatedly, just like I’m drawn to her again and again. We can’t help it.

My Secret Santa: Me think thou are changing the subject.

My mood is in the gutter tonight, but she gets a smile out of me. She’s a miracle worker with that.

Me: Okay, Miss Shakespeare.

My Secret Santa: You need to ease up on the nicknames. I can hardly keep up!

Me: If I don’t know your real name, nicknames will have to do. You haven’t answered my question.

My Secret Santa: Work was fine , she tells me. I love my job, but nothing is perfect.

That’s where she’s wrong. She’s perfect: her smile, confidence, everything about her. The only imperfect thing about her—and it’s not her fault—is who her brother is.

Me: What happened to make it imperfect?

My Secret Santa: Nothing , she replies.

Me: Don’t get shy on me now, Snowflake .

I delete the nickname. Oops. Her Grinch doesn’t call her that. Without the nickname, I click send.

My Secret Santa: Okay. Since you want to know that desperately, this guy has been asking me on dates, being aggressive about it, and acting weird. I’ve managed to keep him at arm’s length, but I don’t think he’s going to quit it.

I grind my teeth, not feeling the cold. I’m hot with rage. Nobody has any right to make Holly’s life miserable.

Me: It sounds like you need to report him to HR. You shouldn’t be uncomfortable at work.

When she asked me if I was going to hit him after she first told me it happened, I wasn’t sure if I was. That would’ve meant throwing my career away. I wasn’t thinking straight, hence the kiss.

Maybe I would have run out there, bounced my knuckles off his face, and roared at him for daring to upset my Snowflake.

My Secret Santa: It’s not as simple as that, she replies.

Me: Why not?

My Secret Santa: It’s complicated.

Me: I can handle complicated.

My Secret Santa: Some people in my workplace think I don’t deserve my job. I can’t go into details, but I’ve had to work hard to disprove them. I’ve had to work long hours and cheerlead multiple projects. If I cause an HR storm, this guy might throw those accusations at me again. I don’t want that.

This bothers me. I know Holly deserves her job because she submitted her video anonymously. She didn’t use her connection to her brother to get ahead in the candidate process. Since then, she’s led several successful video marketing campaigns. People in my old office even remarked on their PR game taking a step up.

Me: Screw what people think. You know the truth. You know you deserve your job.

My Secret Santa: How do you know that? she replies. Maybe I don’t. Perhaps I was gifted an opportunity I didn’t deserve. You don’t know a thing about me. I think you’re building this idea of me in your head. You’re filling in the blanks with things you wish were true. For all you know, I bribed, bullied, and cheated my way to the top.

She’s getting angry, just like in my office. If I close my eyes, I can see the passionate flush creeping across her cheeks.

Me: You shouldn’t have to work in a hostile work environment. I know that much.

I wait for a few minutes, but no reply. Without her words to warm me up, I freeze my ass off. I stuff the phone in my pocket and walk through the city, thinking about grabbing Derek by his shirt and shaking him until his teeth rattle.

If I intervene, Holly will be angry at me. I know she’ll resent me for it. She’s not the type of woman who wants or needs a knight in shining armor.

“Nine days until the big day,” Dan says the next morning over coffee. “Getting excited yet?” His voice drips with sarcasm.

“Oh, yeah,” I reply with the same sarcasm. I hate how forced this banter feels. It’s never been like this before, but I also never kissed his sister. “I can’t wait. It’s all I’ve been thinking about.”

“Have you decided what you’re doing yet?” He mentioned inviting my mom to dinner a couple of days ago. It’s only when he asks me I remember.

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

“Your mom is more than welcome. Or are you going to have dinner there?”

“I don’t know,” I say again. “I’ll decide later.”

He shrugs. “Weekend tomorrow. I’m considering taking a few hours off work to cheer Holly up.”

I sip my coffee, staring into the abyss, feeling like an ass. I don’t lie to Dan. He doesn’t lie to me. We’ve been that way since we were kids, but this is different. “Cheer her up?”

“She left for work early this morning. She didn’t look very merry, which is wild for her. I need to think of something good to get her in the spirit again.”

“I may have something,” I say.

This is all wrong: the kiss, the fantasizing, the Secret Santa stuff, but that doesn’t mean I want her to remain in a bad mood.

“Go on …”

“When we came home from my mom’s place, she mentioned this rock-climbing center.”

“Rock climbing? Holly?”

“She said it wasn’t her usual thing, but they have a holiday theme. She wants to get some footage and mentioned making a video,” I shrug. “It might be worth looking into it.” Before he has a chance, I’ve got my cell out, searching for it online. “It looks pretty cool. See?” I show him the screen with an image of a giant “ice wall” on it.

“You seem keen on it, too. Want to make it a group outing?”

I need to think of an excuse—fast.

Dan looks at me like this couldn’t possibly be a problem. In his world, there couldn’t be. We’re all friends. When we were kids, we’d often do things, the three of us. I’d tease Holly. Holly would pout and record. Dan would laugh. It was normal.

“Earth to Asher?” he chuckles. “You need to drink more of that coffee. Or maybe you’re worried I’ll kick your ass, huh?”

I force a laugh. It sounds more like choking. “Sorry. Yeah, sure, I’m game. It sounds fun.”