“No!” Instant panic took over me. Krampus!
“Sounds like I may have just lost my bargaining chip, but it also sounds like you may have lost the only person who could help you out of this. Face it, Ms. St. John, I own every part of you now.”
“The only person who owns me is me!” I fire back, wishing I had paid more attention to that stupid contract.
He laughed, pushing past me to see the aftermath next door. “And yet there’s a contract binding us together. Scary how easily you fell for it. Oh, by the way, I expect my portion of your sales from yesterday to be ready by noon. A deal’s a deal after all.”
I hated him.
I hated everything about him.
Something inside me wanted to run out back, hop on my bike, and never look back, but I couldn’t, not when all I could think about was Krampus possibly lying on the floor dead next door. So, I did the only thing I could. I followed him out of the building, submitting to his garish whims like the little slave he wanted me to be.
Krampus stares at me with widened eyes filled with confusion, like me accepting his real face is like finding a unicorn in a pasture.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” he questions, taking my hand, his fingers quivering.
“I’m just a nice person.”
He frowns, the corners of his mouth dropping in disappointment.
He only softens when my hands cup his face, gently urging him to meet my gaze. “And I like you. It’s not every day you find a man willing to buy your entire stock of baked goods in one morning.”
He laughs. Igniting the fire that he was so cautious to entertain. “I like sweet things.” He blushes, and it’s so adorable I’m practically melting. “Especially ones that dress up like pin-up models and wear cute dresses every day.”
Then he flexes his arm, showing off the tattoo that looks eerily like me. “It’s like you jumped off my skin and came alive just for me.”
My fingers brush over his inked skin, admiring the tattoo, trying to figure out how long he’s had it.
“If you’re wondering how long I’ve had it, I got it when I was twenty. It was my first tattoo.”
“Really?”
He nods. “I wanted the artist to ink up my dream girl for me so I could always have her with me.”
Pools of deep blue lust draw me closer, those eyes creating a wave full of havoc that pulls me in and drowns me with hope. I suck in a breath, unable to speak a coherent syllable without fainting.
The sexual tension is cosmic. The kind of perfection you only see in predictable holidayHallmarkmovies.
He curls a stray strand of hair hanging in my eyes behind my ear, his arm curling around my back until I’m practically sitting on his lap. “It’s amazing how the craziest dreams can somehow come true when you wish hard enough.”
He leans in, lips puckered and ready.
And I was into it too, leaning forward ready to claim that man as mine… but then I heard Moseley’s voice in my head, the hithe put out on Krampus that he has no idea about. It’s enough to deter me from taking what I want, and I abruptly jerk away, jumping off his lap like kissing him is the last thing I want to do even though it’s the farthest thing from the truth.
The hurt in his eyes kills me.
A hurt that quickly transforms into something close to rage.
He rises slowly, hands clenched, chest puffing like he just grew a new enemy. Then his eyes lift. A silent tear shimmers in the corner of one of them but refuses to fall. His frown swiftly turns to a scowl so scorching, I fear I may never feel my skin again without thinking of this look and feeling his pain.
“Guess I read this wrong,” he mutters under his breath. “Don’t worry, Mindy, I won’t make that mistake again.”
Then he’s gone, marching out of my shop in a fit of rage that I can’t stop.
The door closes between us before I finally find my voice.
“Rich, wait!”
