Toeing my shoes off, I wiggled my feet. “This sounds serious. Do I need a glass of wine for this?”
“Maybe? I might have one too. Yes, I think wine is needed.”
“Now you’re really freaking me out,” I told him, getting up and moving into my galley kitchen. It had a pass-through window, and I watched him while I opened a bottle of red from my fridge. As I poured two glasses, I could see him nibbling on his thumbnail, one leg thumping up and down.
“Balfour,” I called from the kitchen, and his head snapped up to stare at me with wide eyes. “Calm down. You haven’t killed anyone have you? You don’t need me to help hide the body? I mean, I probably would help, but you’re way bigger than me. I can definitely drive the getaway car though.”
When he didn’t smile, or even say anything, I snorted. “I’m kidding. But you seriously need to chill.”
Handing him a glass, I watched as he gulped it down before I even had a chance to make myself comfortable on the couch. He set the glass down on the coffee table, his hand shaking.
Taking a sip of my own wine, I waited for him to tell me what had him in such a tizzy, then nudged his thigh with my foot. Goddess, the man had some hard thighs. How did he even get thighs that hard when he pretty much sat behind a desk allday? I was fairly certain whatever he did in the workshop didn’t account for those thighs of his.
People pretty much walked everywhere in the village, there were no cars, but still. I wasn’t sure just walking would give anyone thighs of steel.
And why the fuck was I thinking so much about Bal’s thighs? What was wrong with me? Bad, bad Kendrick.
Sure, Bal was sexy AF, with all that glorious, rock star hair of his and those light, silver eyes. And the way he smelled like a peppermint mocha latte all the damn time, making my mouth water, sometimes was a problem.
But, this was Bal.
I didnothave sexy thoughts about Bal. Nope. Nada. He had been moved from enemy firmly into the friend zone. Where he needed to stay.
But something was up with him tonight. He was wound tighter than normal, and I didn’t think that was even possible. Because for one of Santa’s jolly elves, Bal was tense on any given day. Not that anyone would ever refer to him as jolly.
“Just spit it out!” I ordered, when after another five minutes all he had managed was to stare off into space, leg thumping, and chewing on his thumb nail.
“I made the mistake of answering the phone when my mom called today. They coerced me into coming to their house on Thanksgiving for dessert. They know I’m having dinner with the Kringles.”
Shrugging, I took another sip of my wine. “Okay.” I really wasn’t sure why he was telling me this, or why he was spinning out of control. “So you won’t have any of Pop’s pumpkin pie. Or you’ll have two desserts. It is a holiday. Calories don’t count. You’ll be fine.”
He gave me an odd look, his face all scrunched up. “Calories don’t count? What kind of logic is that? They most certainly do count.”
“It’s just something people say to make themselves feel better for overeating.” I waved one hand at him, to get him to move this–whatever this was–along. For someone who was always so worried about his stupid schedules, he was taking his own sweet time getting to whatever he wanted to ask me.
“They were trying to fix me up with someone they invited and I might have told them I was seeing someone. And bringing them with me.” He winced. “You. I told them I was seeing you. Dating you. Well, not you exactly by name, but I told them it was a him, and I…I don’t really have anyone else I can ask. At least not anyone that won’t cause more complications in my life. You don’t live in the village, or even in our realm, and you’ll be gone after the holiday, and I’ll just tell them we broke up. It didn’t work out. We’re too different. You’re…human, and–”
“And just when I thought you could say the word human without that sneer in your voice, you prove me wrong.”
He ignored me and continued with his babbling. Since Bal tended to use as few words as possible with most people, except for Nik and his family, and our texting chats, it was fascinating to watch.
“Look, will you just please go with me and pretend that we are–”
“Lovers?” I made the word two words, rolling it on my tongue with extra exaggeration.
“No.”
“Boyfriends? Boo thangs. Can I call you Daddy?”
“Do not even.”
“Ohhh, Candy Cane Daddy. That has a nice ring to it.” I teased, watching all the emotions cross his face at once.
He stood, looming over me, and I leaned back on the couch so I could peer up at him. “No! I have it! Imma call you my little peppermint mocha lovah!”
“I’m leaving,” Bal declared, stomping to the middle of my living room. “And I’m not taking you with me. Let Nik come fetch you. I’m done with being your…fetcher.”
Giggling, I sat up and took another sip of my wine. “Fetcher? I don’t know, that sounds a little dirty. Don’t get your knickers in a twist, elf boy. Sit. Let me see if I can decipher that word vomit you just barfed up.”
