Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

HOLLY

I wake up early, ready for my meeting with my Secret Santa in the park. Last night, on the way home, when Asher touched me?—

It was not what I was expecting. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t what I wanted. He didn’t give any hints about the meeting this morning. Either he wants to make it a surprise, or I’ve wildly misjudged who my Secret Santa is.

Me: Are we still on for this morning? I text just as I’m about to leave.

My Secret Santa: I wouldn’t miss it for the world, my sweet, unimpeachable princess.

What has gotten into him? Since we arranged to meet, he’s been acting weird.

As I drive toward the office, I think about what Brianna said about things between her son and me seeming natural. Bonding with Brianna felt just as natural, too. I seem to be destined to bond with the whole family.

At the park, I get a coffee from the bakery stall and sit on a bench near the Christmas tree, watching the couples and the dog walkers pass me by. My heart leaps whenever I see a tall guy in a stylish winter jacket. It’s not like I wouldn’t immediately recognize Asher.

His touch is still making my sex throb from the car ride yesterday.

My breath catches when I spot him. It’s Derek, holding a cell phone and looking around. When he spots me, he walks over with a thin, moist smile on his lips. I’m too stunned to stand. He stares down at me.

“Hello, Secret Santa,” he grins.

What!? This can’t be real.

“Stop messing around, Derek,” I grit out.

He frowns. “We’ve been texting each other, Holly. As soon as you told me that story about your dad being a salesman, I knew it was you. I remember you mentioning something like that a few weeks ago. Or maybe you posted it on social media.”

I mentioned it for my dad’s birthday several months ago. I wasn’t friends with Derek, and my settings were private, but were Dad’s?

“Do you want to see the phone?” he says.

My skin crawls. This can’t be right. This can’t be happening.

I stand up, grab the phone, and scroll through the texts.

How did he do this?

It’s all there: me calling him Grinch, him calling me Goody Two-shoes, all the banter, all the sharing, everything—all the flirting. My head spins. I shove the phone back at him.

“What’s wrong?” he says. “Are you disappointed it’s me?”

“I just don’t …”

As usual, I’m doing my best to be polite to Derek, but it’s so difficult. I had this storybook in my head. Sure, there were complications, namely the brother-shaped hole that would blow up any long-term plans we had. For the texting, I thought I had it all worked out.

He was my Secret Santa. Asher was my Grinch. It all fit. This does not fit.

“We’ve bonded by texting,” he says, sounding like a kid who hasn’t got the gift he wants. “You can’t say we haven’t. You can’t . Anybody could see that we’ve bonded. I’m your Grinch, Holly. You’re my Goody Two-shoes.”

He reaches out for me, and I panic. “Don’t touch me, Derek.”

He tries to grab my hand, anyway. I move away from him, shaking my head. “I just told you not to touch me. You’ve got no right, okay? No right at all. Just because we’ve texted,” I say, still unable to believe it’s true, “doesn’t mean you get to touch me. This is about the Secret Santa game. That’s all.”

“Then why did you agree to meet me?” he demands. “This is just ridiculous. I’ve been nothing but nice to you. I’ve been polite—the perfect gentleman. You want to treat me like I’m some freak who’s done something wrong. What have I done that’s so bad? Care about you? Text you?”

“I can’t do this, Derek,” I hiss.

“Go on, run away,” he snaps. “Go tell HR you need more special treatment.”

I spin, waving my finger in his face. “I earned my job, you little toad, and if you come near me again, I will go to HR. I don’t care if we’ve texted. I don’t care if you think something happened. It didn’t. Nothing is ever going to happen between us. Okay? That’s it. Plain and simple. Don’t talk to me again.”

“What about texting, Miss Goody Two-shoes?” he calls after me.

I ignore him, hurrying into the office, my thoughts spinning. I can’t believe that Derek has been the one behind the texting all this time.

I genuinely thought I was building a connection with my Secret Santa. In hindsight, I can see how silly that was. I ride the elevator to my office, lock myself in, and lose myself in my work.

All the banter, the back and forth, and the silly hope I let flurry into my heart—it’s all over.

I flinch when somebody knocks on my door. Just my luck! It’s my big brother with a smile on his face until he senses my mood. I’m not hiding it very well.

“I thought I’d swing by to see some of the footage from last night,” he says. “I have to see Asher in that Santa getup, but your face, Holly. It’s like you’ve seen a ghost. Is something wrong?”

I seriously need to keep it together. His sympathy is heartbreaking. When the tears come, he rushes around the desk and wraps his arms around me.

“What is it, Holly? You know you can talk to me.”

“It’s so silly,” I mutter.

“Don’t do that,” he scolds. “Don’t devalue your feelings. You’re better than that. You’re not silly for whatever this is.”

“It’s …” I need to stop. “… my Secret Santa.”

He pulls up a chair and claps his hands together, in CEO, lets-fix-it mode. “Explain.”

He will not take no for an answer, classic Dan. It’s just one reason he’s such a good big brother, the reason my and Asher’s betrayal is so bad.

“We got close,” I say. “At least, as close as you can through text when you don’t know somebody’s name. We didn’t cross any lines, but it’s safe to say we flirted. We shared some banter. We arranged to meet. It turns out my Secret Santa was Derek.”

“That douche who was hitting on you a few months ago?”

“I haven’t mentioned it to you, but he hasn’t stopped,” I mutter.

“He’s still been hitting on you?”

I nod, wiping my cheeks. “Making comments, trying to touch me.”

“What the fuck , Holly? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Everybody already thinks I’ve had special treatment to get this?—”

“You submitted an anonymous video,” Dan snaps. “You deserve this job but don’t deserve to deal with this jerk. It was bad luck that you got him as your Secret Santa, but you don’t owe him anything because you flirted . You need to take this to HR. He has no right to harass you—none. I don’t foster this kind of working environment. If you don’t go, I will.”

“I’ll go,” I say.

“Promise?”

“I promise, Dan. He’s gone too far this time.”

Is it just his fault? Texting is a two-way street, and I was too eager to walk down that road with him. I’ve been messing with my own head, inventing reasons to believe it’s Asher, wishing it was my brother’s best friend.

“In the meantime, sign up for one of those dating apps,” he says.

I laugh. “What good will that do?”

“If you’re going to fall in love over text, at least you’ll have a photo of them.”

“We weren’t falling in love .”

I put the derision into my voice. Before I discovered that my Secret Santa was Derek, though, I might’ve believed we were falling in love, Asher and me, the lights of our phone screens lighting up our hearts.

I was such an idiot.