But Baz, after just two short interactions, two desire-filled interactions, had me lowering mine.
“What gives you that idea?” His tone had shifted, and with fingers crossed, maybe my new approach was working.
“Oh, I’ve had my fair share of parents putting on a show to impress or push away any thoughts I might hold that they’re not good parents. People in general don’t want others to pick up ontheir insecurities or failings. It’s a gift. Or a curse, depending on how you want to look at it.” I hadn’t intended to get this deep over his unwillingness to wear a costume or someone I’d dreamed about getting naked with, but there it was.
“Smart and pretty. No wonder Josh can’t stop talking about Ms. Riordan.” Baz’s expression softened, and his stoic demeanor morphed into a breath-stealing smile.
“How about we agree that I ‘might’ be Santa, and I’ll get back to you in a day or two?”
“We're a bit pressed for time to cast this role. If I don’t hear from you by Friday, then I’ll know you’ve chosen to disappoint the nephew who worships you, and I’ll find someone else.”
“Ouch. You always play this dirty when dealing with uncooperative parents or uncles of your students?”
“Mr. Johansson, you have no idea what I’ve had to do to get parents to pay attention to their children. Some days it’s truly disheartening to witness the lack of interest they have.” Shaking off the chill my words produced, I held out my left hand. “Give me your phone so I can add my number. Please text me your decision in two days. And if you don’t, then I’ll take your name off my cast list. Deal?”
Baz’s eyes lowered, but not before I noticed a flash of anger, or maybe it was sadness at the picture my words painted. I was aware that Josh’s dad wasn’t in his life, hadn’t been for a long time. When Astrid told me about how her brother had stepped in to be the father figure his nephew needed, I’d had high hopes for the sexy mountain man to become our Santa.
Without a word, handed over his cell. I quickly typed in my contact information. How I did so without any typos was a miracle considering the way his intense stare made my fingers shake.
“Friday.” Baz nodded as I handed the phone back.
After he left, I couldn’t shake our conversation or how alive I felt. How I felt things I hadn’t felt in…maybe ever. How could a man like him pull off such sexy aloofness while maintaining the illusion of a grump? That took talent.
There was just something about Baz that lit me up from the inside out. He had my nerve endings firing all at once. He pretty much left me breathless and needy with his mere presence for the second time in less than a week, and he hadn’t even touched me. Could a man like that make me change my mind about relationships?
CHAPTER FIVE
BAZ
It was Friday. Deadline day.
“Forget it, I’m shaving.” I muttered. I’d wavered back and forth for two days. Stomping around my kitchen, Thomas, the cat who wandered onto my property and decided to stay not long after I finished building my cabin, continued his grooming as I grumbled between long sips of coffee.
Staring out the back window over the kitchen sink, I caught my reflection. Stroking my chin, I’d never thought that having a beard would make me resemble Santa. If I had I would have remained clean shaven. But vanity and the need to cover long-healed scars from taking IED shrapnel to the side of my face had compelled me to grow it as soon as I could after my last surgery.
And then, ever since I started turning grey a few years back, all I heard from my buddies was the endless teasing of, “Hey, here comes Hot Santa.” Sometimes they mixed it up with Sinful Santa, or Bad Santa. Yeah, okay, the last one was slightly humorous considering the movie of the same name was kind of funny, but it was getting tiresome. They needed some new material or to find someone else to focus their juvenile energy on.
So, decision made. “There’s no way I’m playing Santa in Josh’s Christmas play.” My full-throated declaration echoed off the walls of the kitchen and, in response, Thomas yowled and then left the room. The cat paused in the archway leading into the hall and gave me the stink eye before disappearing.
What was it with animals and their spooky as shit reactions? Dammit, the cat was right. No matter how I felt about wearing a costume or making a fool of myself in front of a room full of strangers, I’d do it. For my nephew.
Not for the curvy, full of sass teacher who seemed to enjoy yanking my chain. But I had her number too. And not just on my contact list so she could text me rehearsal times. No, I sensed she felt our undeniable connection.
I’d noticed her quickened breathing as it lifted her full breasts the other day, making me want to find out just how soft they were. How responsive her nipples would be to my attention.
Then there was the twinkle in her eyes as she teased me about wearing the damn cloak, or robe; whatever the hell it was called. There was a banked desire just behind her sassiness. Her neck had become slightly flushed, and the crumpled piece of paper she’d worried between her nimble fingers the entire time we spoke was very telling.
Zoe was definitely interested.
And incredibly, I was hot for teacher. The problem was the kid. There was no way I’d make a move on her while he was in her class. But I wasn’t looking for more than a long weekend of fun. And Zoe? A woman like her was probably looking for the whole package. And I only had one package I ever shared with a woman.
Snorting at my crudeness, I set my coffee cup in the sink and then headed out to my workshop. That damn sign I’d designed for the Triple R Lodge had been giving me heartburn the past week as I’d tried to get it completed by the end of the month.Determined to put the final touches on it and set aside the temptation Ms. Riordan posed, I cranked the tunes, donned my protective gear and lit the welding torch.
My fickle muse had appeared during my inner tirade. I now had the final vision for my project. About damn time.
The hours flew by as I polished steel. I solved the issue with the third R as I twisted recycled iron cable before welding it in place. I lifted the visor of my protective headgear, swiped sweat off my brow with my forearm and gave myself a moment to admire the end result I’d envisioned for the welcome sign.
The moment didn’t last long.
