The urge to continue being pampered is too great to resist when Marla and Bridget insist I take Monday off work. I call into Santa’s Village and talk to Meredith, telling her I won’t be able to do my assigned duty as floater elf and asking if it’s possible to do some creative rearranging so I don’t miss my shift. The Village closes after the twenty-second, which is less than three weeks away. By some twist of fate, I’ve ended up thoroughly enjoying my job there, and not only because of Hugh. Although he’s definitely a factor.
When I arrive at the Village, Meredith informs me I’ll be Santa’s right-hand elf for the week. There’s a twinkle in her eye as she says, “Santa requested you personally. He said he’d set up a chair for you so you can hand out the wrapped books and give visitors a ‘cheery goodbye’.”
I can’t help the grin tugging at my lips. Hugh and I haven’t told anyone at the Village about us. With this being a temporary seasonal set-up, there are no hard and fast rules about dating coworkers, as long as there’s no drama among the elves. This is a family establishment after all, and it wouldn’t be an appropriate place for open hostility or lovers’ spats. But between the fact I’m a newbie and Hugh owns this place, plus the whole ‘not labeling our relationship’ thing, we decided not to tell anyone. From the smirk on Meredith’s face, though, I guess it’s obvious something is going on between the boss and me.
“You two make an adorable couple,” she says in a low voice.
“Oh. Thanks.” I try not to laugh at her borderline conspiratorial tone. “That’s not what we are, though. Not really. We’re just…dating?”
She tilts her head to one side. “Okay. Well. I’ve known him for a few years now, and I’ve never seen him date anyone. I’ve also never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you.”
My stomach swoops at her words. I don’t even try to fight the grin now. “That’s good to know. I think…” I shake my head. “Never mind.”
“No, tell me,” she insists.
I inhale deeply. Trying to avoid thoughts of any sort of future with Hugh gets harder the more time we spend together. There was something about lying in bed with Bridget last night, whispering my feelings about Hugh into the darkness as we both got sleepier and sleepier. I dreamed of Hugh, and although I can’t remember the details, I woke up feeling light and content. “I think we could be great together,” I say finally. “But he’s likely going back to Scotland after Christmas. And even though he won’t be gone forever, things between us are too new to attempt long distance, and I’m not interested in that anyway. Been there, done that, have the emotional scars to prove it.”
Meredith smiles sympathetically.
“So there’s a deadline on whatever we are, and I’m just trying to enjoy it while I can.” Maybe the more I say it, the more I’ll believe it.
“That’s…a healthy and mature way to look at it,” she says.
I laugh. “Thanks? It’s how things are, so I have to accept it.”
“For now,” she says. I look at her questioningly and she adds, “You never know, that’s all. I’m a big believer in things happening for a reason. You ending up here, for instance. You already have a full-time job and probably never would have even come to visit the Village, let alone work here. Yet here you are. Maybe you were put here for a reason.”
The romantic in me perks up at her words. In the last few years, I’d all but stopped believing in fate and things happening for a reason. I’d held tight to those ideas all through my teen years and college, always looking for signs, going where I felt I was being led. I was sure there was some big, cosmic plan for me, something that would make all my suffering since my parents’ deaths make sense.
Despite never being able to completely squash what Bridget calls my ‘romantic notions’, I don’t look for signs anymore. I don’t feel like an unseen divine entity is leading me where I need to go. But Meredith’s earnest words make something shift inside me. It’s like that part of me I tucked away has seen the light and peeked its hopeful head out.
Meredith laughs suddenly, shaking her head. “You think I’m nuts.” Before I can deny it, she says, “Whether you believe in that stuff or not, you’re here. You’re with Hugh, even if it is temporary. I’ll just say this and then we need to head out: working here has helped me believe in magic. Whether it’s that Christmassy feeling of anything being possible, or the kids with their bright, hopeful faces, I don’t know. The world doesn’t seem quite so dark once you’ve worked here for awhile.” She slings her arm loosely around my shoulders and steers me in the direction of Santa’s House. She shoots me a meaningful look as she says, “Maybe you just need to remember what it’s like to believe in Santa.”
*****
Since Marla drove me to work today, Hugh offers to drive Celia and me home after our shift. I feel more than a little relief when Celia informs us she’s going to Connelly’s with some of the elves. That means I can finally invite Hugh in and not worry about distractions, at least for a while.
When we arrive at my apartment, I excuse myself to change out of my costume. Hugh performed his de-Santa routine before we left the Village, donning a pair of dark jeans and a blue and black plaid shirt over a form-fitting black tee. For a moment I toy with the idea of inviting him to undress me, but the thought is fleeting; Santa or not, I’m not sure I’m up to seducing Hugh as an elf.
I root through my small selection of pajamas. I haven’t had to worry about anyone except Celia, Bridget, or Marla seeing me in my jammies for a long time, so my choices run more toward comfortable than sexy. I settle on a pair of loose-fitting pants with a colorful macaron design and the matching long-sleeved top. I hope Hugh can contain himself.
In the living room, Hugh is examining my bookshelves once again. A man who loves books as much as I do; maybe I’m the one who won’t be able to contain herself. The moment he sees me, his lips lift in a soft smile. “You look good enough to eat, Miss Sima.”
I laugh as I sit on the couch and elevate my right leg. Hugh’s brows draw together in concern. “Does your ankle hurt?”
“Just a twinge here and there,” I tell him. “It helped being off it most of the day. Thanks for my new assignment at work, by the way.”
“My pleasure. I like having you close.” He joins me on the couch. Before I can move my leg out of the way, he lifts it and settles my foot in his lap. “Mind if I check it?” I shake my head and he begins gently prodding my ankle and foot. He appears satisfied when I don’t wince or cry out. I expect that to be it, but he keeps rubbing. I sink back on the cushions with a sigh. His fingers return to my ankle and he says, “I should probably check the other one. For comparison, you know.” He guides my other leg up until my left foot is in his lap.
Another sigh escapes me as he repeats the process on my other foot. I could get used to this kind of attention. His eyes connect with mine as his hands slide under the hem of my pants. My mouth goes dry when his serious, steady gaze doesn’t shift from mine. Strong, warm hands begin massaging my calf. Yep, I could definitely get used to this.
Whether his intention was to turn me on or not, that’s what’s happening. Despite having seduction on the brain earlier and wanting to be alone with him, I have no idea how long Celia will be gone. I’d never hear the end of it if she walked in on us going at it on the couch. In an attempt to corral my lusty thoughts, I ask, “What will you do in Scotland if you have to go back?”
His hands pause for a moment before continuing. “I have business there. Investment and real estate, similar to what I do here in Bellevue. It was my father’s business, and he taught me the ways of it. I have people who see to the day-to-day operations, and I delegate most of the work when I’m away so I can concentrate on things here.” His hand continues to work over my leg as he speaks, inching up bit by bit until it reaches my knee.
The way my brain begins to go fuzzy makes me remember reading something about the knee being an erogenous zone. From the small tilt of his lips, I have a feeling he knows exactly the effect he’s having.
“I have family there, as well,” he says. “My sister Clarabel and one of my best mates from school have been a couple for some years now. They keep me busy when I’m not working.”
His fingers slide around to the back of my knee and an involuntary gasp escapes me. I swallow hard as his hand slides up my thigh. The loose pajama pants were a good call. I bet he could reach all the way…my thoughts jutter to a halt as his hand glides around to the inside of my thigh and stops. I’m practically panting. It takes everything in me not to squirm. His gaze is as much of a physical weight as his hand on my thigh. It penetrates me, takes my breath away.
“Hugh.” His name sounds like a desperate gasp. My body moves without permission from my brain, my hips lifting slightly off the couch. His hand inches higher on my thigh, and then withdraws entirely. I’m about to voice my displeasure when he rises to kneel on the couch so he’s hovering over me. I reach up and lock my arms around his neck, shifting so his body is between my legs. He lowers himself until he’s lying on top of me, his weight supported on his forearms on either side of me.
I draw him down until our lips meet in a hungry kiss. I’ve never kissed someone with this much urgency before, never wanted someone the way I want Hugh. Sensations throughout my body are magnified—the flushed, almost feverish feeling heating my skin, the ache between my legs, the desire to bring him closer until our bodies merge. My senses are on high alert. Which is probably why I’m able to hear the jingle of keys before they’re inserted in the front door.
Hugh must hear it too, because he pulls away. His eyes are glazed, the pupils so dilated I can barely see the beautiful mossy green ringing them. A thrill zips through me at the sight. A thrill that’s doused the moment the door opens and Celia sees us.
Her mouth pops open in a silent O and her eyes go just as round. It would be funny if I weren’t silently cursing her bad timing. “Oh. Shit. I’ll just—” She backs into the hall, then comes inside again, closing the door with a bang. Facing away from us, she hastily sheds her coat while kicking off her boots. “Sorry,” she yelps as she rushes past us, keeping her eyes averted.
Hugh has slid off me by this point and is lying squished between my body and the back of the couch. I press my lips together and slide my gaze to him. When our eyes meet and I see the mirth in his, laughter tumbles out of me.
“Think we traumatized her?” he asks.
I take advantage of his proximity and snuggle against him. He wraps his arms around me, resting his chin on top of my head. The heat I felt just moments ago is still there, reduced to a low simmer now. More manageable and less all consuming.
“At the rate things were going, I think she would have been far more traumatized if she’d come in a few minutes later,” I say.
His chuckle ruffles my hair. “Seeing my bare arse, you mean?”
The simmering heat kicks up a notch at the thought of Hugh’s bare ass. Bare anything. “We could go to my room and pick up where we left off.”
He groans. “Ivy.” He gives me a squeeze before releasing me and pushing to a sitting position. “I want that. I truly do. But tonight’s not the time.”
“Not tonight or not at all?” I hate how small my voice sounds. This is all so foreign to me. Casual dating, the possibility of casual sex. All I know is I want Hugh and if the hardness that pressed against my stomach while we made out was any indication, I’m pretty sure he wants me too.
He pulls me into a sitting position and cups my face. “I want you, Ivy. Don’t doubt that for a second. But when we’re together, I don’t want any interruptions.” I perk up at his use of ‘when’ rather than ‘if’. “I also don’t want it to be on your couch. Privacy and space are two musts. I plan to take my time with you and savor every moment.” He nuzzles my neck, sending shivers through me. “It’s also my goal to make you scream my name.”
I cover my answering gasp by burying my face in his shoulder. His quiet chuckle tells me he heard it anyway. I cling to him for a second, enjoying his warmth and the scent of his cologne before releasing him.
“I’ll say goodnight now,” he says. I’m pleased to hear the reluctance in his voice. I wonder how much convincing it would take to get him to spend the night after all. He’s right about the privacy, though. I’ve never been all that vocal during sex, but I don’t doubt Hugh would be more than capable of drawing out that side of me. Knowing Celia was in the next room would definitely be a mood dampener.
I walk with him to the door and watch silently as he puts on his coat and boots. I love watching him, especially when he bends to lace his boots. The way his jeans hug his thighs and butt makes me think a cold shower might be in order by the time he leaves. He catches me staring, and I mentally give myself a gold star for grinning without blushing. He leaves after a lingering kiss and a promise to see me tomorrow.
I’m thinking about Hugh’s promise of ‘when’ and what that will entail as I lock up and turn off the lights. A rattling sound from outside draws my attention to the balcony. A quick inspection through the glass door tells me there’s nothing out there.
“Skip the shower and go to bed,” I mutter to myself. The little pink battery-operated gadget I keep in my nightstand comes to mind, and suddenly going to bed seems like the better idea after all.