“I’m not a fan of Christmas theatrics.”
Something softens in her expression. “That actually makes me feel better.”
“About the party?”
“About… not being weird,” she admits.
“You’re not weird,” I say gently. “You’re human.” A beautiful, gorgeous human woman who loves dirty talk and playing with her vibrator. In other words, perfect. But saying that out loud would definitely count as coming on too strong. So I just watch as she blushes. That pretty pink color I love creeping up her cheeks.
She ducks her head as she leaves, but winks.
Winks.
My girl winked at me.
That keeps me going for the rest of the day, and I’m not even mad that I have to spend the weekend braving the crowds while I shop for presents. Because my girl winked at me, and one of the presents I’m buying is for her.
Saturday arrives wrapped in frigid air and with cloudy skies.
Snow flurries dust the sidewalks, just enough to make the world feel muted. The town decorations are less enjoyable when my breath creates icicles in the scarf I’ve wrapped around my face and I can’t feel my fingers, despite the extra-thick gloves I put on. I almost go back home to do the shopping online instead, but I’ve left it too late and the gifts might not arrive in time.
So instead, I shop for family presents until I can’t stand the jostling of my fellow grumpy shoppers. I more than deserve a break and a treat, so I duck into a coffee shop to warm up.
She’s standing at the counter when I see her, wrapped in a thick knit scarf, hair loose around her shoulders, cheeks pink from the cold. Liz studies the pastry case with the intensity of someone defusing a bomb.
I smile, but then duck my face to hide it when she turns, spots me, and freezes. “Ethan?”
“Hi,” I say. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
She laughs softly, breath fogging the air between us. “Same. It’s freezing outside. I ducked in for survival coffee.”
“Smart choice.”
We order, she hesitates, then gets something warm and spiced. I note it. File it away, and insists on paying, waving away her protests.
“It’s just two colleagues having coffee,” I say, when it’s so much more than that. This lucky surprise encounter is perfect. Both for my mission and for my mood.
We hover near the pickup counter, close but not crowded.
“So,” I say when the silence between us gets a little too long, “you’re out braving the holiday crowds?”
She groans. “Unfortunately. Family shopping. And…” She trails off, grimacing.
“And?” I prompt.
“And Secret Santa,” she admits. “Which I’m pretending is fine but is actually ruining my life.” She slaps both hands over her mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to criticize work. I mean, it’s nice that they’re organizing something for us…”
That gets a genuine laugh out of me. “Don’t worry. I will not rat you out. Just two colleagues having coffee, remember?”
She looks at me like she’s relieved to hear the words. “Okay, then.” She unwinds her scarf. “I guess the holiday stress is getting to me. Everyone acts like it’s magical, and I’m over here trying not to have a minor breakdown in the shop aisles.”
“I relate more than I probably should,” I say.
Her brows lift. “Really?”
“Really,” I confirm. “I’ve never been big on forced cheer.”
She exhales. “Thank God. I thought I was just defective.”
