But for some reason, I’m having trouble getting excited about that. It’s like my dick couldn’t be less interested. Maybe he’ll rally when we get to the club and find someone interesting. It’s worth a shot, at least.
“Yeah, looks like you’re right.”
“Well, okay then, Mr. President, let’s go get you laid.”
I force a laugh and follow him to the door. “One thing at a time,” I say. “This is the first time I’ve been out in a year. Maybe let’s just let me get acclimated to the scene again, hey?” As the words leave my mouth, I can taste how awful it’s going to be. The last thing I want is to get acclimated to the scene again. I’m thirty-four, well past the age of going to clubs and hooking up with random strangers.
Fuck, I hate being in this position. Annabelle may not have been the ideal match for me, but at least she was someone.
Eric stops inside the doors and grabs my arm. “Archer,” he says seriously. “You don’t have to do this, you know? If you don’t want to hook up with someone, then don’t. No one is forcing you to move on if you’re not ready. If you need more time after the whole Annabelle thing, take more time.” He’s breathing heavier by the time he stops talking and takes his hand off my arm.
“That hurt you, didn’t it?” I joke.
He snorts a laugh and shakes his head. “You have no idea.”
I give him a brotherly clap on the back. “I appreciate it, man. And you’re right. I’m not ready. But I will come out with you and the boys. Maybe a little fun is just what I need.” I take a step toward the door.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Eric asks, looking pointedly at my shirt. “I know it’s not exactly cold in Westborough in the winter, but you should probably still get your jacket.”
“Shit.” I walk toward the backstage area. “I’ll grab it and meet you in the lobby. Go find us a cab, or order an Uber or something.”
“You know, you have enough money to keep a driver and car on staff. You should think about that,” he calls out after me.
“Yeah, yeah. Fuck off.” I laugh. “You know I hate that kind of shit.”
I can hear his laughter echoing down the hall. Eric understands why I feel the way I feel about my family’s money, but he still likes to give me shit about it from time to time. He wouldn’t be my best friend if he didn’t.
I find my jacket right where I left it earlier this evening and I’m sliding my arms into it when I hear a panicked-sounding voice from the main ballroom.
“Shit! No, no, no. Why is the party over so early? It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Fucking Gavin. Fucking Charlie. Fuck my life. The hotel doesn’t have any more parties booked. How will I ever find him now?”
I chuckle at the sudden burst of colorful vocabulary. When I step out of the backstage area to investigate, I spot a woman so dejected-looking I long to hug her. Her bright carrot-orange hair is in a large knot on top of her head, the stray curls sticking out at odd angles. She’s buried her face in her hands. The leggings and hooded sweatshirt combo she’s sporting tells me she likely wasn’t an attendee at the party. My staff aren’t rich, but they did dress up for the event tonight. And if her clothes weren’t enough to call attention to her, she’s sitting on the floor, elbows balanced on her knees, curled up in a tight ball. She must be lost. Inexplicably, the only thing I want is to help her.
“Hello? Are you looking for someone? Maybe I can help you?”
Her head jerks up at the sound of my voice and she stares straight at me, her eyes wide. “Holy shit, it’s really you.”
Chapter 3
Santa Sighting
Phoebe
“Holyshit,it’sreallyyou.”
I can’t believe it worked.
I found him.
Now what?
“Excuse me? Are you a new hire? Did I miss you? I’m afraid I don’t have the bonus checks on me, but I can let HR know and they’ll have it deposited directly into your account. I was about to head out, but let’s try to get this straightened out first.”
What? Does hereallynot recognize me?
His concern about having missed giving me a bonus check seems genuine. I wonder if he could get in trouble for something like that. A Santa not handing out all the gifts would probably be reprimanded by their talent company, I bet. Or maybe even fired. I’m surprised at how calm he is. He found a crazed woman sitting on the floor in a ballroom about to burst into tears. I don’t even look like I belong here, yet his first instinct is that I’m an employee he doesn’t recognize who’s upset about not getting a bonus check. God, I hope he’s this nice when he finds out the reason I’m here.
I’m nervous, which makes me even more self-conscious about my far too casual attire. For all the other Christmas parties I dressed up, but Charlie and Gavin were so late getting home that I didn’t have time to get ready. I managed a quick shower and styled half my hair, but it was impossible to get everything done with Lincoln wanting constant cuddles. I had to throw my hair up in a huge messy bun on top of my head and spread some lip balm on my lips and call it a day. Hell, I’m even still wearing the leggings and hooded sweatshirt from when I gave Lincoln his bath. It’s still sporting a few damp spots, some of which I know for a fact are puke, not water. Frankly, I’m a mess.
