“Ah. I see.”
“She’s weaponizing Christmas, Paige. To get me to leave. I need my Butch Bestie.” My voice cracks with desperation. “I need backup. What do we do?”
“We? I’m standing in a mile-long line to take my niece to see Santa.” Her exhale is audible. “I don’t know why parents insist on making their children sit on Santa’s lap. I can already tell Laurel hates him. And I hate standing in this line. I wouldn’twant to sit on any man’s lap, let alone one that smells like stale coffee, bad decisions and has a fake beard.”
“Sounds traumatic when you put it like that.” I agree.
“Exactly.”
Another child wails. I yank the phone from my ear and wince from the screaming. I can only picture the exasperated look on Paige’s face.
“Come on, Laurel. Want to get ice cream?” Paige says seconds later. “We’ll tell Mommy Santa called in sick today.”
Her niece squeals with excitement.
“Sounds like you just won, Auntie of the Year,” I say.
“It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it.” There’s movement, shuffling through crowds. “I’ll deal with my sister later.”
A minute passes. The sounds of children playing and that catchy chipmunk song descend to a murmur. There’s a jingle from a door opening, then I hear Laurel’s adorably shy voice order two scoops of reindeer tracks ice cream and pay the cashier. Paige praises her with an audible smooch on the cheek.
“Feels good to sit down.” Paige basically melts on the call. “Where were we?”
“Helping me make Charlotte a little less comfortable.” Which seems to be the opposite of her plans.
“Right. Two can play that game.” Paige’s voice sharpens, all business as if she’s facilitating a session at work. “Here’s what you’re going to do.” She pauses. “Train Ember.”
I yank my head back. “What? How is that going to solve anything?”
“Fight fire with…Ember,” she says with a chuckle, then gets serious again. “Practice Find and Bark or Find and Sit like I taught you. It doesn’t matter. Pick something and do it.”
I try to think for a moment, but my brain’s not computing, probably still overheated from Charlotte winking at me while wearing a garter belt. “You think that’ll work?”
Then I recall the way Charlotte wouldn’t stop touching me when first seeing me wearing my military service uniform. We were late for our brunch reservations that day. How could she resist me in uniform training an adorable puppy in a K-9 vest?
“Do you have a better idea? Because right now you’re probably hiding while she’s out there making moneyandwinning. Have you forgotten you have a job to go back to? You’re running out of time. You need to be on the offensive.”
My stomach twists. I hate that she’s right. I’ve been so wrapped up in wanting to unwrap Charlotte, I completely forgot about my actual job. Returning to work means Paige will meet with Chief and I’ll give Ember back, but I need a solution to keep my cabin. And fast.
“Okay.” I straighten, nodding. “Okay. That’s a good plan.”
“Use your assets,” she says, mid chew. “And don’t forget your?—”
“Evening, Kez.”
I startle, springing two feet in the air and spinning around. Charlotte’s right behind me, no longer in the Santa hat and lingerie. She’s wearing a T-shirt that hangs slightly off her shoulder and knee-high socks, which isn’t much of an improvement for the butterflies already swarming in my stomach every time she says my name. How does she keep doing that?
I hide my phone behind my back and clear my throat. I try to appear nonchalant but fail miserably. “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself.” The glint in her eyes is back. “I’m exhausted from another long day of work.” She stretches, and I force myself to look at the wall. “Heading to bed soon.”
“Yeah. Me too.” I wet my lips. “Goodnight.”
Why is she just standing there? Against my will, I meet her eyes. My gaze drifts lower to where her nipples strain against the fabric. Wait. Is she wearing my shirt? MyTeam Naughtyholiday shirt? She’s crossed the line now.
Her lips curl into a knowing smile at my mouth hanging ajar. She saunters past me toward the bedroom, and I follow because apparently that’s the direction we’re both going now. Ember’s nowhere to be found to stop me from my poor choices. Traitor.
I arrange my blanket and pillow on the floor beside the bed. I should sleep on the couch. That’d be the smartest move, even with it freezing out there. That might be the only thing that cools me down after days of Charlotte parading around in lingerie, slowly weakening my resolve. But I don’t pull away. Instead, I lie on the floor and stare at the ceiling.
