Darling Little Christmas
A Doctor Darling’s Clinic Holiday Short
One
Savannah
I didn’t do parties or holiday cheer. Not usually. But I had promised myself I’d get out more. Get out of my house. Get out of my head. Ever since my Daddy had broken up with me to move across the world and we’d tearfully said goodbye, I’d come to a bunch of painful realizations. Though Trevor had been an amazing partner for the time we spent in a relationship, it hadn’t been all candy canes and eggnog.
Bah humbug.He was always more focused on his career and opportunities than us. Which had been fine until that golden contract showed up on his doorstep.
As a result, I’d been very grinchy the past few weeks. The closer the holidays became, the more irritated I’d become. I was driving even myself crazy. So in a fit of unusual Christmas cheer, I’d found an obnoxious ugly sweater and agreed to attend a party thrown by my friend Camille. I even promised to bring my famous hot cocoa cookies.
Fluffing my long red hair, I checked out my reflection in the mirror and decided I was satisfied with my curls and makeup.Next, I appraised my outfit, smiling at the adorable saying on my shirt ‘Sugar, Spice, and everything NAUGHTY’. It had a huge mug of coca on it along with glittery snowflakes and ornaments dancing up and down the sleeves. Not exactly ugly, but perfect for this particular party.
One evening out, a few hours with friends. Bunny-hopping out of my room to help shake away my nerves, I paused long enough to grab my holiday treats to share and my coat. Maybe I’d find someone equally into eating cookies and watching silly movies instead of engaging in anything else. Then again a sexy meet-cute just in time for the holidays wasn’t a bad idea either! If I could stay out of my head, I might even have fun.
Milling around at the party, I entertained myself by taste-testing every treat on the table while I people-watched. It wasn’t the worst way to spend my time. Better than sitting at home, drowning in my own sour mood.
My eyes drifted to the tallest man I’d ever seen. Built like a Viking warrior.Viking Daddy.
Once I nicknamed him in my head, I couldn’t stop myself from checking him out at every opportunity. Not that I had enough courage to approach him. Yet.
Even in his obligatory ugly Christmas sweater, he still looked magnificent. The thick red knit stretched across his muscular torso, proudly stating ‘Santa Saw That’ in bold white lettering. A tattoo peeked out of the top and I wondered how many he had. If I had to guess, his arms were likely covered since the sleeves were rolled up and I could see more ink. His blonde hair waspulled away from his face in a man bun that accentuated his jawline.
Damn.He was the most interesting person in the room, by far.
I thought I’d been subtle in my observing, but whenViking Daddysidled up next to me while I leaned against the wall, he nudged me with his foot, like he knew all my secrets. His eyes were an intense shade of blue, deeper than the ocean, but twinkling from the simple strands of lights hanging overhead.
“I’m Bram, and you are?” His voice was a low rumble amid the cheerful music.
I pretended not to notice how good he smelled, a warm scent of cedarwood blended with something earthy like pine. It reminded me of an open fire in the middle of winter. “Looking for reasons to leave. I’m not very social,” I admitted, sipping my loaded eggnog sprinkled with enough spice to give it a kick. I had to remember to ask Camille for her recipe.
Bram leaned into my personal space but I didn’t move away. “I can think of some if you need excuses,” Bram mused, his cadence melodic yet husky. “What’s your name?”
I wondered what sort of excuses he would come up with. He couldn’t mean that we leave the party together? No, that was a leap from one greeting. We were at a small, intimate gathering of mutual friends. But we were still strangers, something I needed to remind myself. “I’m Savannah. Go ahead, then. Lay one on me.”
“I’d be happy to,” he said mischievously. "It's a bit frosty outside. Snow falling. Not enough to make the roads slick, but soon it will be. It’s convenient enough to claim you need to dash. Or maybe it’s getting too close to your bedtime.” He took a long glance at my chest. “Though maybe you’re not interested in getting on Santa’s nice list this year.”
“I’m very interested. Still listening,” I cooed in what I hoped was more seductress and less bumbling mess.
He cocked an eyebrow before a slow smile stretched across his face. “Listening, hm? Do you always behave yourself?”
I swallowed the last bit of eggnog, grateful I didn’t choke on it. “Not always,” I said, batting my eyelashes with less confidence than I pretended to feel.
Was he really flirting with me? This Norse god of a man seemed to be, but there were plenty of other people here for him to choose from.
A flicker of doubt crept into my thoughts. Someone as handsome as him with thick thighs straining against his dark-blue jeans like the pants were painted on could never want someone like me.
As I had the thought, I frowned. I wasn’t usually insecure. I had spent years learning to love myself, but with those dazzling blue eyes locked on me and that husky voice pulling me in, my armor felt thinner than usual.
His presence was overwhelming in the best way—the way that made my breath catch and my heart race. I imagined him picking me up, effortlessly hoisting me over his shoulder like a sack of toys. The thought sent a flush straight through me. Stranger or not, I wanted him to do very naughty things. To me, in my bed.
“Would you like to engage in some holiday mischief tonight, my naughty little elf?”
Me? Naughty? Check. But his little elf? Not even close.
“I’m hardly alittleanything, Bram,” I replied smoothly.
