Ben laughs, totally unconcerned with Aspen’s issues. “I already ran it by Finn. He’s on board. This entire building needs more security.”
They continue their argument over whether Aspen is an adult and able to make sound decisions for herself while I become super interested in the Christmas decorations hung around the large apartment Finn and Aspen share above the Raven Digital Arts building.
Over time I manage to inch my way from the kitchen to the dining room where Clare and Grant sit at the table. Grant picks food off his plate and Clare’s while she pretends not to notice. The apartment is an open floor plan, but Aspen and Ben do not let that hinder their heated discussion.
“Are they arguing again?” Clare asks but then cups a hand around her mouth and yells, “Guys, no fighting. It’s Christmas,” before I answer.
“Where’s Drew?” I ask Clare as she pushes her plate in front of Grant, giving up the poorly played out rouse. As Clare’s roommate and best friend, Drew makes an appearance at these required events from time to time.
Grant shoves a mini sandwich in his mouth, chewing quickly. “Couldn’t get him to come. We guess he has a girlfriend.”
“Hmm. A girlfriend? He should bring her.”
Clare shrugs, the folds of her blue shirt bunching up. “Drew’s never been big on Christmas.”
“What are you doing for the holidays?” Grant asks, taking another bite of sandwich. I need to grab one before he eats the whole plate of them. “Are you allowed out of town after what happened yesterday?”
“Yes,” my eyes narrow. I witnessed a crime. I didn’t partake in a crime. You’d believe I was the criminal the way everyone expects me to be locked away. “But I’m staying here this year.”
I’d rather be home, but holidays are the busiest in marketing, so getting time off is hard. Coupled with my parents’ last-minute decision to take a vacation, my brothers and I are on our own for the holiday. It will be one of the first times we aren’t together for Christmas.
“If you need a place for dinner, my grandparents are hosting their yearly big shindig,” Grant says.
I hesitate for a minute searching for a nice way to say hell no. There isn’t one.
“Oh thanks. I’ll probably stay home. Eat leftovers.” Grant’s grandparents are some of the richest people in San Francisco — a city full of rich people. The simple idea of having to dress up and attend a formal function with them for a holiday makes my stomach lurch. All those people. All the small talk. I have no idea how Clare does it.
Something knocks inside my head, the inner workings of the start of a migraine. Then it happens again, and I notice everyone looking at the door.
“Are we missing someone?” Aspen asks.
Finn walks to the door, the one that is only accessible from an elevator in the RDA offices. “Nonsense, everyone is here.”
On the other side, blocking the light from the hallway, stands a beast. He has to be close to six feet tall since he’s looking Finn in the eye, but his arms are the size of tree trunks. Okay, little tree trunks, but still they’re huge. His hair is swept to one side, and he wears a black fleece jacket like the fifty-degree Christmas Eve temperatures aren’t cold for him. I swallow and do everything in my power to focus the other way. The room is speechless as we stare at the hottie in the hallway, and it takes me at least thirty seconds before I realized my mouth is hanging open. I forcibly close it with my hand. A butterfly pops up and does a lap in my stomach.
“Ben?” Finn calls after talking to the mysterious man for a few moments.
Ben, not fazed by how cute the stranger is, walks to the door. “Hey, you must be Ridge’s man?”
The brown-haired giant smiles and nods his head, and the three men exchange more words. Even as I push my hearing in their direction, I can’t quite make out the conversation. Who the hell is Ridge? And why does he need men? And what’s one doing here? The questions cause another butterfly to join the first.
“Aspen, who is this guy?” I ask as she walks closer to my spot beside Clare.
She doesn’t take her eyes off her husband as he talks, like she’s immune to the new guy’s hotness factor, too. “I don’t know, but Ben knows him, so it must be okay.”
Clare gasps. “Amanda, is he here for your alarm?” Her eyes widen in excitement at the prospect.
“What? No.” There’s no way the man is here for me. I’m never that lucky. A third butterfly sprouts at the idea.
Ben turns, and even though I know it isn’t, the action seems to happen in slow motion. He smiles, but when his eyes stop at my face, worry blooms in my gut.
This can’t be good.
“Amanda, meet Hudson. Your Christmas present.”
And there’s the stomach full of butterflies.
2
