CHAPTER 7
Abigail
Abigail snuggled into the heated car seat. It was the sort of luxury she’d never imagined it— and if she was being honest, if she had imagined it, she probably would have told herself she would hate it. That shelling out for heated car seats was silly, and frivolous, and—
Cozy and wonderful and the best thing ever, after freezing my ass off on the ice rink. She let out a contented sigh. It was all Jasper. Without him, she would be stuck in her apartment, stubbornly eating microwave dinners and only going outside to work. Turning off the radio and TV at the wall. Staring at the sidewalk everywhere she went, just to avoid seeing anyone else actually enjoying the holiday season.
That was why she worked at the shop. Jasper probably thought she was crazy, hating Christmas and working at a Christmas gift store— but if he knew the truth, he’d think she was worse than crazy. The truth was, the only reason she could stand that place was because of how awful people were when they were doing their Christmas shopping. At least if some guy in a blinking-LED Christmas sweater was raging at her about missing out on the latest trendy knick-knack, she could convince herself that she wasn’t the only person who found Christmas a grinding, painful chore.
Like those ice-skaters who turned up just at the wrong moment, she thought, and immediately shook her head. No. That wasn’t fair. She might be a Grinch, but that was no reason to be nasty. The carol-singing idiots might have looked like they’d been dragged backwards through a Christmas tree, but they weren’t miserable. No one who actually hated Christmas could sing carols with such reckless, tuneless abandon.
No. They were happy, and Jasper had been happy, and she was just a miserable, soulless Grinch. She hadn’t even properly thanked Jasper for the scarf and gloves, even though they were the best present anyone had ever given her.
Oh, God, definitely don’t tell him that. That’s like, one step above socks being the most exciting Christmas present ever. One hundred percent pathetic.
She stared out the car window, blinking hard. Her eyes cleared and she realized where they were. “We’re going back to my place?”
Jasper pulled in to park. “We could go back to mine, but you wouldn’t come back anytime soon.” He yanked on the hand brake and winced. “Let’s pretend that didn’t come out sounding all serial-killer. I mean, I’m staying halfway up the mountain. You can see what would happen. We get out there, it snows overnight, roads closed— or maybe I just tell you the roads are closed, because once I have you in my bed I never want to let you go.”
“Hmm.” Abigail rolled her eyes at him. “And then I miss work— get fired— lose my apartment, and freeze on the streets?”
“No.” Jasper leaned across to kiss her. “Because you’re still in my bed, remember? In this entirely theoretical situation.”
“Tempting… but I’d better not risk it. Not even an avalanche could keep Mr. Bell from rocking up to yell at me for missing my shift, and if I’m living in your bed by this point, that could get embarrassing.”
Jasper sighed dramatically. “There goes my plan to carry you off into the mountains.”
Abigail laughed. She hadn’t felt this happy in— too long. And nothing had ever been able to pull her out of her Christmas-time unhappiness as well as a single smile from Jasper could.
Warmth unspooled inside her as she undid her seatbelt. Quick as a flash, Jasper was out of the car and racing around to open the passenger door for her.
She stepped onto the sidewalk, icy air biting at her cheeks. “Aren’t you staying with your family, anyway? Didn’t you say something about a nephew?”
“I—” Jasper’s mouth snapped shut. “Well, yes. There’s the lodge. But I have my own, personal bachelor pad on the property. Believe me, I’m not going to whisk you away to a romantic snowy realm where you get woken every morning by a four-year-old dra— menace jumping on the bed.”
Abigail tipped her head on one side. Another smile was pulling at her lips. Hadn’t she run through her quota for the month already? And yet every time she looked at him, there another one was. It was almost like the guy made her happy, or something. Almost like you might be falling—
Her heart leapt— and she caught it and wrestled it to the ground. He was fun. And spending time with him was definitely preferable to sulking around in her apartment all alone.
“So,” she said, sneaking her hand into his. “Is this some sort of hint? All this talk about trapping me in your bed… Are you suggesting I should trap you in my bed, or something?” She checked the car clock. “For the next seven hours, at least.”
“Is that a promise?” Jasper smiled wickedly at her.
* * *
“When you promised to trap me in your bed, I assumed you’d be in it, too,” came Jasper’s plaintive voice from the bedroom.
“In a minute!” Abigail bundled her uniform into her mini washer-dryer. “I have to get the washing on!”
“I can take them to the laundromat again in the morning,” Jasper argued.
“Waste of money,” Abigail muttered. “Where’s the laundry detergent— aha.” She checked the inlet hose was firmly attached to the faucet, and dropped the drain hose into the shower. She gave the machine one last tap before she turned it on.
“Please don’t flood the bathroom again,” she whispered.
The little washer-dryer was a lifesaver. Her apartment building didn’t have a laundry, and the laundromat around the corner mostly catered for wealthy tourists— with prices to match. One more thing she hadn’t taken into account when she moved here.
If only the machine didn’t break down and flood the bathroom one time out of ten. She’d bought it for herself a few Christmases ago, which had been a mistake. It was stupid to think that if she’d bought it any other time of year, it would have crapped out less, but… well. Abigail and Christmas had never mixed.
A black-button eye caught hers as she stopped at the door to turn off the bathroom light. Her stomach twisted. The kitten toy from the shop roof was hanging from the shower head, where she’d left it to drip dry. It had dripped, but it didn’t look like it would be dry anytime soon.
“Why didn’t I just throw you out?” she muttered, and closed the shower door.
Jasper was waiting for her in the bedroom. In her bed. Completely naked, complete with cunningly placed pillow and a reproachful look in his eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that. I can’t abandon my chores every night,” Abigail said. A mischievous impulse made her grin. “Speaking of chores, there really are a few other things I need to get done…”
“Please, have mercy!” Jasper leapt from the bed and knelt at her feet. “Whatever it is, leave me to do it when you go to work tomorrow. Vacuuming. Dishes. Polishing the silverware.”
“Aha!” Abigail cried, arching one eyebrow. “So that’s it, is it? Your dastardly plan. Trick your way into my bed and my apartment, and then run off with the silver while my back is turned.” She ran her toes along Jasper’s thigh, stopping just short of the still-intact modesty pillow. “Joke’s on you, it’s all aluminum. And plastic.”
Jasper groaned and let his head fall back. Abigail’s eyelids lowered as she looked down his body, her gaze trailing slowly from his neck, to the curve of his collarbone— down to his firm pectorals and the flat planes of his stomach and abs, the deep, alluring V that led between his legs…
Abigail lifted her eyes again to find Jasper staring straight at her, a smirk hovering on his lips. “Damn it, you’ve found me out,” he murmured, his voice like honey-smooth chocolate. “If only I could think of a way to distract you from my nefarious, cutlery-thieving ways…”
The pillow slipped lower. Abigail licked her lips.
“Go on…” she said, sinking down in front of him. “Distract me.”