16. Zane

SIXTEEN

ZANE

T he magic of Christmas comes alive when Santa arrives at the annual children’s party. I remember when I was little, and my parents would bring me. All my classmates would come, dressed in their Sunday best. We’d sit at circular tables, each with a holiday centerpiece, and munch on everything from cheese and crackers to cookies and cakes. Everyone donates something to the buffet. The real fun was waiting for Santa to arrive with his big red bag, full of toys we hadn’t asked him for, yet he always knew what we wanted.

Back then, this party was the highlight of my year. Until I turned twelve and I was no longer allowed to get a present from Santa. Talk about heartbreak. Honestly, that year was the worst. I couldn’t trick or treat, either. Deemed too old by some imaginary rule which no one knew where it originated from, yet it was still enforced by parents .

The next year, I discovered girls. More importantly, Evangeline.

It’s hard to think back to how I felt ten-plus years ago but chasing her around the lake that year made up for the fact I couldn’t do all the fun stuff I used to.

She was worth growing up for.

She’s worth it more now even though she’s taking full advantage of my feelings for her by making me wrap presents. Being an attorney, I’m used to making last-minute adjustments, but this is ridiculous.

We’re supposed to go out to dinner tonight. After my lunch time shenanigans earlier today, when I risked my life to kiss her, I asked her to go out to dinner again. I figured she would be in a daze after my excellent kissing prowess and hedged a bet she’d say yes. I was right. She agreed.

The problem with my above average kissing skills is Eve already had plans, which is likely why she said no in the first place.

Hence, why I’m at the community center wrapping presents. If I wanted to see her tonight, I had to do it here. It was a no brainer to spend time with her in her element. It’s moments like this that I’ve missed. It’s the camaraderie of the community we grew up with and always talked about giving back to. Looking around, there are people from each generation working to bring a day of happiness to the children of Deer Ridge.

This is what I lost when I accepted the internship in New York City.

All hope isn’t lost on my date night with Eve, though. She did promise me some hot cocoa later . . .

. . . In her apartment.

The night will be perfect regardless, but a little snowfall would make it a bit more magical.

However, when I said I would help, I didn’t think I’d be part of an assembly line with strict rules: take a name, find the gift, and wrap. Once you’re done, you take the wrapped present to Evangeline who writes the child’s name in some fancy cursive writing.

Rinse and repeat.

Evangeline gave me a choice: wrap presents or decorate, neither of which I’m very good at. But I figured measuring, cutting, and taping, would be much easier than blowing up balloons and attempting to make a balloon arch. The crew doing the balloons are not having an easy go of it and I think if more than one popped in my face, I’d probably cry.

Wrapping means I’m closer to her and have an excuse to talk to her without disrupting her work. This is the perfect choice.

Alma, the famed pastry master of Alma’s Bakery, sits next to me. I’m surprised she’s here, considering she opens the bakery so early. If it were me, I’d be fast asleep. She sees me struggling with the ribbon and offers to help, guiding me on how to tie it efficiently.

“I hated ribbons when I was younger. They always delayed my unwrapping process,” I tell her.

“It’s why we put them on presents. To slow you down. There’s nothing wrong with taking your time and enjoying the process. Makes the outcome much sweeter.”

“For a kid, it’s pure frustration. ”

Alma laughs and asks me to loan her my finger. “I remember doing this with my mom. It was after I found out about Santa.”

“How old were you?”

“Twelve,” I tell her. “It was when we didn’t come to this party. My parents sat me down and explained everything. Such a crappy year. The one thing my mom always stressed was to keep believing in the magic of it all. Deer Ridge does a good job keeping the overall spirit of the season alive. It’s hard not to believe.”

“New York seems magical, too," Alma states. “The parade looks fun.”

“Wouldn’t know. I spent Thanksgiving in the Hamptons.”

“Did you like it?”

“Um . . . it was different. Being used to one tradition and learning another is an adjustment.”

“Are you going back?”

“No,” I tell Alma with zero hesitation. I glance over the top of her to where Eve sits and smiles, even though she has her head down. I wait, staring like I’m a creeper, for her to look. She finally does and rewards me with a shy grin before going back to whatever she’s working on.

“You know, if you hurt her again, we’re not going to allow you back in town.”

Alma’s words should stun me, but they don’t. “I won’t hurt her.”

“If I were her, I’d make you grovel.”

“And I’m prepared to do so,” I tell her as I go back to wrapping. “I made a mistake. It was costly and hurtful. I let greed and ambition take me away from the person I love. If it takes forever for her to forgive me, so be it.”

“You being here is a huge step in the right direction.”

I laugh, thinking about my plans for the night. “I had a date planned for us. Dinner out and a stroll along Main Street to listen to the carolers.”

“Maybe she’s not ready to be alone with you.”

“Could be.” I chuckle. “But come on, Alma. Look at me. I’m tall, handsome, and I have abs to die for and that V women clamor for. Who wouldn’t want to go out with me?”

Alma’s head turns slowly, her eyes are unreadable. I wink and give her a cocky smirk.

“You’re trouble, Zane. Always have been.”

“You wound me.” I place my hand over my heart and pretend to weep.

Alma points two of her fingers at her eyes and then at me. “Don’t forget it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I love how protective she is of Evangeline, and Alma’s right to warn me. I can’t mess this up. Not that I want to. These past five years have been a mistake. A costly one at that. Making it up to Evangeline is my priority.

After Alma helps me finish my bow, I pick up my package along with the slip of paper of who it belongs to, and take it over to Santa’s helper.

“Hey,” Eve says when I approach her table.

“Another one down. ”

“Thank you.” She takes the slip and writes the child’s name in very elegant script; it’s reminiscent of what Santa himself would do.

“I need to use the restroom.”

She doesn’t even look at me when she speaks. “You’re a big boy, Zane. And you’ve been here before, you know where it is.”

“Eve,” I say her name quietly as I rest my hands on the table and wait for her to look at me. “Can you show me where the restrooms are?” I suspect I’m irritating her, but it’s all for a cause. Well, it’s all for me, and I hope it’s something she will appreciate.

She puts her fancy pen down and pushes back from the table. “Follow me,” she mutters. I do so, smiling like the Cheshire Cat. I know this building like the back of my hand. As a kid, I ran the halls, causing as much chaos as possible. Which means I know where all the hidey holes are.

I follow her for a moment and then grab her hand and steer her down another hall. Evangeline doesn’t tug her hand away and I get the feeling she knows where we’re going. This isn’t our first rodeo, especially in this building.

Her feet shuffle behind me, keeping up with my long stride. I turn us around another corner and right into an alcove where one of the classrooms for the adult education classes is. The door’s locked, thwarting my idea. I’m still determined and not about to let this moment go to waste.

I back her into the corner, my tall frame blocking her from the view of anyone who happens to walk by. She looks up at me, her green eyes laced with desire. I know her looks. Her tells. I don’t think I would’ve been able to forget them if I tried.

The back of her fingers trail down her cheek. She closes her eyes and leans into my touch. “I will never forgive myself for hurting you.”

Evangeline nods and then looks at me again. She bites her lower lip and her breathing increases. Is she nervous because she knows I’m about to kiss her, or does she think we’re going to get caught?

I tilt her chin up, giving me a better angle. Slowly, I lower my mouth to hers, waiting to savor this kiss. Evangeline has other ideas and crushes her mouth to mine, moaning when her tongue touches mine.

Her arms go around my neck, yanking me closer to her. I do one better and lift her, using the wall as an anchor, and let her lead this.

Kissing this woman is exhilarating. Every nerve ending tingles, and my heart beats wildly out of control. With each taste of her tongue and scrape of her nails along my skin, my need grows. Enticing a moan from her, about sends me over the edge. It’s far too soon to have those thoughts, but they’re there. Eager and wanting. The desire to be with her, in ways we used to be together, is so great, it’s almost a problem for me.

“Eve,” I’m able to say her name, but barely.

She hums, the sound vibrating right to where she’s moving against me. I want this woman, now and forever, but fear niggles in the back of my mind. It’s far too soon and the last thing I want is for Evangeline to have regrets .

Reluctantly, I pull away. Breathing heavily, I rest my forehead against hers and will myself to calm down.

“I need a minute,” I tell her when she tries to move.

Eve nods against my shoulder. “Do you remember when we were about fifteen or maybe sixteen and we were at the lake?”

“Which time?” I ask, breathing shallowed and somewhat labored.

“The time when we thought we were being sneaky and ran off to the boathouse?”

“Oh my God, my eyes!” I say as the issue in my pants subsides. Still, I don’t move, enjoying having her in my arms. “English class was never the same.”

“Nope.”

Evangeline and I were horny teens. Like every other teen out there, we snuck around. A lot. During the summer it was easy because our parents were working, and we were at the lake most days. We were lying on her blanket, talking and teasing each other, when the mood struck. Our friends were out on their boat, so we took off for the boathouse expecting it to be empty.

Except it wasn’t.

Our English teacher was in there, doing what Eve and I wanted to do. Seeing your teacher in the throes of passion is one thing. Seeing her with someone that wasn’t her husband was a whole other ball game.

Needless to say, the start of the school year was awkward.

“I’m sorry this ruined your plans for the evening,” she says as I gently put her down.

I cup her cheek. My thumb rubs under her eye while she looks at me. I lean down and brush my lips against hers.

“The promise of hot cocoa makes up for it.”

“We only have an hour left.”

“Well, then I guess I better go wrap some more presents.”