“How about you leave early for a change too? I wouldn’t mind sharing a meal with someone.”
Craig had been low-key hitting on me since I took over the organization. While I considered it harmless, I also didn’t want to entertain it and give him false hopes.
“I’m afraid I still have at least another hour here. And then several hours of my real job to go tonight. But thanks for the offer. Have an extra hot course for me.”
“Alright. Will do.” If his ego was bruised, he didn’t show any signs of it. Hopefully, he wouldn’t ask again. “Be safe, you hear?”
“Always,” I agreed, giving him and a few others a smile as they made their way out.
I followed behind, locking the door, then letting out a deep sigh before going over to the phone bank to check out the donations everyone had managed to pull in.
It was a couple grand.
Not great.
But every dollar got us closer to more gifts.
I wasn’t complaining.
I sat down to count and sort the cash I (well, Venezio) got, filled out a slip, put it in my bag, then made my way out, ready to hit the bank to deposit the cash before I finally got to go home.
I was dreaming of a too-hot bath with a cup of hot cocoa, maybe some gentle, crooning Christmas music playing, when a movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention.
I whipped around but didn’t see anything.
Though, as weird as it sounds, I could have sworn I’d seen Venezio.
But that was likely my imagination playing tricks on me.
Later, with my belly full of canned soup, and my mind full of the steamy scenes in the book I’d just narrated, the warm water lapping around my skin as I shifted in the tub, thoughts of him returned.
This time, just this once, I let them.
CHAPTER FIVE
Stephanie
“Why does there have to be a catch?” I grumbled as I pulled a tray of cookies out of the oven.
Andy sat at the island drinking a white chocolate latte she’d let herself into my apartment to make while I’d been in the shower.
Meatball was currently on the couch, rolling back and forth on one of my candy-cane-printed throw blankets, his little grunts bringing a smile to my lips, despite the frustration I felt.
“Sammy’s firm has this weird married culture.”
“Married culture,” I repeated, scraping the cookies off the sheet to set them on the cooling rack so they maintained their softness.
Morale was running a little low at the charity after one of our bigger donors canceled their damn check before we could put it in the bank. Cookies weren’t going to replace that money, but at least they might give everyone a little happiness to get through the day.
“Yeah, it’s weird in this day and age, right? But it’s a thing. Everyone there is married or engaged. And they really look down on single people.”
“Yeah, but you said this was an event between several of the law firms in the city. I’m sure they’re not all stuck in the 1950s.”
“Maybe. But we don’t want you to stand out like a sore thumb if it is all couples. Come on. You’re gorgeous. How hard could it be for you to get a date?”
“To a stuffy lawyer-only event? I’m thinking difficult. Might as well be asking someone to accompany me to an event at the IRS.”
“Hey, the IRS gets a bad rep. They were kind of chill with me when I screwed up my taxes when I was younger.”
