I slapped his hand away. “Don’t point at my boobs.”
“Don’t sleep in my building.”
“You were the one who barged in here.”
Kringle, who had vacuumed up whatever crumbs had fallen into my blankets, lumbered over, eyed my shirt, then started licking me.
“No,” Matt yelled, horrified. “Kringle, no, get away from her.”
He leaned over and grabbed the dog by the collar. The motion put his face extremely close to my chest. The brush of air from his movement puffed through the thin fabric, making my nipples harden.
I turned to hastily grab a blanket from the pile, hoping Matt didn’t notice.
His mouth was a thin line when I turned back to him, the blanket wrapped around me.
Yeah, he noticed.
“It wasn’t because of you,” I said, drawing the blanket tighter around me.
“What?” he said, taking a step back.
“Youknow.”
He shook his head quickly.
“For fuck—” I threw the blanket off.
“This.” I motioned to my chest, where my nipples were still very happy with the attractive male in their close proximity. “Stop playing dumb—I know you were checking me out.”
Girl, you must still be drunk on cookies and wine.
“Never,” Matt said, staring up at the tin ceiling. “Nothing about you is appealing.” He let out an irritated breath. “Please put the blanket back on.”
“Screw you,” I said, throwing it back on the pile and sticking my chest out the way Great-Aunt Bettina always said I should. “This is my shop until my lease runs out. If I want to run around au natural, I will.”
“Please leave your shirt on,” Matt begged, clapping a hand over his eyes.
“Or you could leave.”
His arm came down to make a knife hand at me. “No, you leave. You are not supposed to be sleeping here. You are in violation of your lease and of city code. Get your stuff and get out.”
Fuck him.
I pulled on my coat and boots, grabbed my bag, and headed to the door, slapping a hat on my head.
The dog followed me out into the cold, tail wagging. Matt, glowering, watched as I locked up the shop.
“Merry Christmas!” I said cheerfully. “Have a nice night while you jack off thinking about my tits.”
“You—that’s not—”
I laughed and skipped down the street. I was going to walk around the mostly empty Christmas market then come back to my shop.
I wandered around for half an hour, taking pictures of the Christmas lights and posting them on Instagram.
I was starting to feel the chill when I headed back to the shop, hiding behind trash cans and feeling very Batgirl as I zigzagged to my shop. I peered around an empty stall.
Matt was still standing out there in the cold, in that super-tight short-sleeved shirt that clung to his muscles.
