Chapter 2

GRAHAM

I don’t often dress up in costumes for parties, but this year, I’m the designated driver, and I have to do something to make it fun for myself. I’m dressed up as Santa, leaning against the bar, watching my friends get drunk. I’m usually right there with them, downing beers until the room spins, but not tonight. Oddly enough, it’s kind of fun to be on the outside for a change, watching them make fools of themselves.

I scratch my chin. The fake beard is starting to irritate me, and I’m getting hot in this suit as well. I rented it especially for the party, unwilling to be an elf or to sport a red nose and antlers like Rudolph. There aren’t many options for Christmas costumes. There are two more Santas in the bar, but I’m the only one in our group of friends.

It works for me. I like being different.

A curvy woman in an elf outfit that’s way too tight walks up to me. “How about you and I find somewhere quiet, and you grant all my wishes?”

She’s had too much to drink. Her red lipstick is smudged a little, and her eyes are glazed.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart,” I say.

She pouts, and I wonder if she’s going to insist, but she shimmies away with rolling hips and wobbly legs, and I’m relieved.

“Come on, pal,” Joe says. “That was easy pickings.”

I chuckle. I didn’t realize one of my friends was close enough to witness it. “I don’t mind an easy piece of ass, but I have some taste.”

“I would have said yes if I wasn’t married,” Joe says.

I shrugged. “Be my guest,” I say with a smile.

Joe grins at me, shakes his head, but he doesn’t pursue her. Just what I thought.

Finally, everyone is ready to leave. We’ve been at the bar the whole afternoon and the better part of the evening. After I drop everyone off, it’s about eleven, and I head home. All the houses along my street, except mine, are covered with Christmas decorations. Strings of lights flash, mistletoe hangs on some of the porches, and there is red and green everywhere. As soon as it starts snowing, it will complete the picture. Aside from a light smattering of snow at the beginning of the season, it’s been dry. The snow is holding back, and everyone is hoping that it will fall in time for a white Christmas.

I walk up to my house, dark and deserted. I prefer living alone. There was a time when I lived with a woman, but it ended badly, and the worst part was coming home to a place that suddenly felt empty. Of course, that didn’t last very long. My house became my own again, and it’s been that way ever since.

I unlock my door and step into the dark house. Something crackles beneath my foot. I flip on the light switch and look down. A pink envelope lies on the floor just inside the front door. I frown. Usually, I get my letters in the mailbox.

I open the letter, and glitter falls out. I shake my hand and then my foot. Why the hell do people make this shit? I hate glitter.

It won’t be from any of my tenants. I’m in construction, and I bought a couple of rundown homes, fixed them up, and now, I rent them out. I keep my tenants at arm’s length. None of them know where I live, and I prefer to keep it that way. I like to keep my personal life separate from my business life.

I unfold the letter, and more glitter sprinkles on my hands. When I read the letter, I realize it’s a letter to Santa. Some kid must have put it in my mail slot, but who? It can’t be Britney’s kids. They live too far to do something like this. Besides, my sister and her children don’t exactly have the best life with that goddamn husband of hers.

At the bottom of the letter, a postscript has been added in a different color. Please bring a man for my Aunt Sarah, it reads. It’s signed, “Lindsay.”

I don’t know Lindsay, but I do know a Sarah. She’s one of my tenants, and she lives next door. I don’t remember her having any children, but it would make sense how the letter ended up inside my house. In fact, as I was leaving the house this afternoon I remember seeing a woman and young girl walking up her driveway.

I walk to the window in my living room and look out. The house next door is quiet, but I see movement on the porch, revealing Sarah, my tenant. I quickly get out of my Santa suit, and I decide to speak to her.

“Evening,” I say as I walk up the path.

Sarah jumps and turns around. “Oh, God,” she says. Her hand is clutched to her chest, but she is smiling.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I live next door. I got this letter in my mail slot.” I take the three steps up onto the porch. “I presume this belongs to you?”

“Oh, that,” Sarah says. “My niece and I were writing letters to Santa this afternoon. She told me he lives next door. She must have slipped it in when I wasn’t looking.”

She looks embarrassed. It’s endearing.

“Yeah, that’s what it is. I was wearing a Santa suit on my way to a party earlier today. She must have seen me coming out of the house.” I look down at the letter and smile. “She even considered you in her Christmas wish list.”

When Sarah frowns at me, I hand her the letter. She reaches inside the front door and switches on the porch light. The light illuminates her face, and she looks even prettier. I’ve seen her in the daytime, too, but I haven’t paid much attention. Light brown hair hangs over her shoulders, and she has a stunning figure, but it’s her eyes that get me. They are dark, liquid brown and drowning deep. I watch her as her eyes flick over the note. When she reads the last line, her cheeks become bright red. She’s beautiful when she blushes. She turns those eyes to me and shakes her head.

“I don’t know what to say.”

I chuckle. “I gather you don’t have a man? I’m Graham, by the way.”

She blushes even more and shakes her head. “I’m not exactly desperate for one, either, as this suggests. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I say, chuckling. “If it’s not rude to ask, can I have your number? You know, seeing as how we’re neighbors and all.”

I know I might be pushing it, but when a woman this beautiful arrives in your life, you make sure she stays in it. I don’t expect her to give me her number, though. She doesn’t know me at all.

“Okay,” she says in a soft voice.

I’m surprised and thrilled. Of course, I already have her number. She’s a tenant. But I’m not going to tell her that. I don’t want her to know that I’m her landlord, at least not for now.

I take my phone out of my pocket and hand it to her so she can save her digits in my contacts. When she hands me my phone, she shrugs.

“It’s the least I can do after Lindsay’s letter.” She still looks embarrassed, and I love it. She’s adorable when she’s blushing.

“Thank you, Sarah,” I say pretending to look at her name on the telephone. “I’m not going to hang around here at this time of night any longer, or you’ll think I’m a creeper,” I say with a grin, and she smiles back at me. “Good night.”

“Good night,” she says.