One Christmas Eve

by Shannon Stacey

  She was a vibrant, exciting woman. And one day, when the fun of flirting and stolen kisses wore off, she was going to realize he was not exciting and move on to more thrilling pastures.

  “What are you thinking right now?” Zoe asked, derailing his very depressing train of thoughts. “Your face changed and I get the impression you’re having some serious regrets about kissing me right now.”

  “No,” he said sharply. “I like kissing you.”

  “But...”

  He really didn’t want to ruin this moment. It was a kiss. They could get past that. But if it went further, it was going to be a lot harder when the inevitable end came and he didn’t want that for either of them.

  He’d felt that way once before. He’d fallen hard and fast, and he’d thought she had, too. And maybe she had, but when that initial rush that came with a new relationship had faded, the spark that was left hadn’t been enough for her. She’d moved on and he’d been left with a broken heart.

  Imagining falling for Zoe—more than he already was—and then having that spark fizzle out for her would wreck him. And his office was next to her bookstore, so she wouldn’t simply be gone. He’d see her. He’d see her window displays and think of her.

  “You and I are...not compatible,” he said in a low voice.

  “Yes, I know. I’m entirely unsuitable.”

  He sighed. “You are not entirely unsuitable.”

  “But a little unsuitable.”

  “For me, yes.” Before she could say anything—or even think of a response—he frowned and held up his hand. “That’s not right. I’m the one who’s unsuitable. For you.”

  She cocked her head, running his words through her head and trying to make sense of them.

  “It’s like this,” he said, running his hand over his hair. “If we were art, I’d be a pen and ink drawing and you’d be that larger-than-life canvas with blobs of colorful paint flung all over it with joy and abandon.”

  She laughed. “You’re precision and I’m a mess?”

  “No! That’s not...no.”

  He looked so distressed, she put her hand on his arm. “I was kidding. I know what you mean—I think—and it’s actually very flattering.”

  “You’ve seen my office. You’ve seen my car. The color palette of my life is neutral, mostly gray. Boring, really. I’m boring, Zoe, and while we obviously have some sexual chemistry—and by some, I mean explosive—you’re a woman who deserves a lot more than boring.”

  “What if I don’t think you’re boring?”

  He managed a half smile and shrugged one shoulder. “Trust me. Eventually, you will.”

  “You seem pretty convinced of that.”

  “Zoe. I’m reasonably good looking. I’m well educated. I have a good job and make good money. Mothers love me. And yet, I’ve never even gotten close to marriage. Or engagement, even.” He shrugged casually, not showing the lingering pain of being left for men who were more exciting. “It’s because I’m just not that exciting and you are so exciting and I don’t know if I can stand to hear ‘you’re just so boring, Preston’ from you before you walk out the door.”

  It was more than he meant to say. He didn’t generally expose old wounds for other people to see, but she wasn’t just any person. He’d kissed her and then pulled back, and she deserved an explanation for that.

  “I wasn’t looking for a ring,” she said quietly. “But, since this is clearly a bad idea, I’m going to get another slice of pie with a whole lot of whipped cream. Want one?”

  She brushed by him before he could think of anything else to say, and when she got a can of whipped cream out of the fridge and set it on the counter with a thump they could probably hear a mile away, he figured he’d probably said enough.

  “I’ll have a slice, too,” he said, letting it go. “Extra whipped cream, please.”

  They ate pie and watched football. There was a lot of talking and laughing, but Preston could feel the tension between him and Zoe as if they were tugging against an actual invisible rope that bound them together.

  It was almost a relief when the game ended and gave him the perfect segue for saying his goodbyes. Of course Joe had Zoe and Carly pack him up some leftovers to take home, and the smile Zoe gave him when he asked for a little more of the baked macaroni and cheese helped ease the ache in his chest.

  “Thank you,” he said when she handed him a canvas shopping bag stuffed with plastic containers.

  She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes and he wanted to stroke her hair and tell her he was stupid and that they absolutely should kiss again. And soon.

  “That’ll tide you over for a couple of days,” Joe said, and the moment was lost.

  He didn’t get a chance to say more than goodbye to Zoe, and to Noah and Carly, as Joe accompanied him out onto the front porch.

  “I’m gonna see you at Abe’s holiday party next Saturday, right?” the older man asked.

  “I...don’t know.” He hadn’t received any invitations that he could recall. “I don’t think I’ve heard anything about it.”

  “He doesn’t send out cards or put up flyers. It’s just always been known that the second Saturday of December, all the locals show up at Abe’s for his Christmas party.”

  “Oh. I guess I’m a local now?”

  “You betcha.” Joe clapped his hand on Preston’s shoulder. “So we’ll see you there.”

  Preston nodded and just assumed he’d be able to get more details about the party from somebody over the next nine days. Like who Abe was and where he lived.

  He really would have liked to talk to Zoe alone again before he left, but it was pretty clear Joe had walked him out, so to speak, so he shook his hand and thanked him again for dinner.

  Then he waved to the others, sharing a lingering eye contact with Zoe that left him feeling frustrated and wanting more, before getting in his car.

  He was an idiot. There was no other explanation he could come up with as he drove the long dirt drive away from Zoe. He was a complete idiot.

  Chapter Six

  “I don’t get what’s going on with you and Preston.”

  Zoe looked up from the magazine of book reviews she was scanning and made a what are you talking about face at her cousin. “There’s nothing going on with me and Preston, which is probably why you don’t get it. Nothing to get.”

  “You used to tell me everything.”

  “There’s nothing going on. That is everything.”

  Carly’s eyes narrowed. “What happened? Because I don’t care what you say, something was happening. Or was going to happen. And Thanksgiving was weird. Something changed.”

  Zoe didn’t want to talk about it, so she shrugged one shoulder and looked back at the magazine. The words blurred and she blinked her eyes to clear them. Yeah, something changed. There was one amazing kiss that had ruined everything, but still kept her awake at night.

  It was the first time a guy had broken up with her before they even started dating, and it not only pissed her off, but it made her sad. If he didn’t think they were compatible, why the hell had he kissed her like that? Yeah, she was mad about that.

  But it was the sad part that really bothered her. She didn’t want to be sad because that meant she’d already become emotionally invested in the relationship and it hadn’t even really gotten off the ground yet.

  “Zoe.” Carly took the magazine out of her hands. “He was totally into you. You were totally into him. Even somebody who hasn’t known you your entire life could have seen that. And at Granddad’s everything was fine and then all of a sudden, it wasn’t. I don’t know why you won’t talk to me about this.”

  “Because I don’t want your stupid matchmaking urges involved, okay? We were flirting. A lot. And then, on Thanksgiving, we kissed in the kitchen.”

  “Oh!” Carly grinned. “How was the ki
ss?”

  “Incredible.”

  “And then?”

  Zoe sighed. “And then he told me we’re not really compatible because he’s boring or some stupid shit and that was that.”

  “Do you think he’s boring?”

  “No, but he does. And so, apparently, did women he used to date.” Zoe snatched the magazine back, but she didn’t open it. “I think somebody in his past did a number on him and he’s afraid I’ll wake up one day, totally bored, and dump him.”

  “Prove him wrong, then.”

  “I’m tempted,” Zoe confessed. “But maybe it’s better this way. I mean, I enjoy his company. I’d like to enjoy his company in my bed. But I’m not ready or looking for a forever Prince Charming here. I just want to have a good time, but I felt like that good time would be temporary...ish.”

  “And you’re afraid he’ll assume you’ve gotten bored with him and hurt his feelings.”

  “And then he’ll turn into a bitter old man who sits in a rocking chair and yells at kids who play baseball across the street.”

  “Wow, that’s quite a vagina you must have.”

  Zoe laughed so hard she almost fell out of her chair, and it felt good. She was being ridiculous, and it helped drive away some of the sadness. By the time she could breathe again, she felt almost normal.

  “His disposition in his elderly years isn’t on you, whether he gets to experience your vagina or not,” Carly said. “So he had a case of premature freaking-out. He’s an estate planner, Zoe. He’s wired to plan for the worst. So just relax and he’ll relax and maybe you’ll get to relax each other a little, if you know what I mean.”

  “No, I don’t know what you mean because that was such subtle innuendo.” Zoe rolled her eyes. “I haven’t even seen him since that day. And he didn’t like my Instagram photo of our first Christmas window of the year.”

  “That bastard.”

  “This is stupid.” Zoe stood and tossed the magazine on the desk. “I feel like I’m hiding from him and I’m not going to do that. He can either handle me or he can’t. I’m going to go over there.”

  “Wait.” Carly held up her hand. “You’re going to go over there and...what, exactly? Because if a kiss made him balk, walking in and demanding sex in his office might be too much, too soon.”

  “No, I’m not having sex in his office.” She’d imagined it a few times, and it wasn’t something she was opposed to on principle. Just not yet. “He asked for a book, and I’m going to deliver it.”

  She found a copy of the sequel to Falling for the Renegade Rancher and pulled it off the shelf. After making a note to pay for it later, she flipped through until she found a scene in which the heroine is suggesting to the hero they just have a no-strings-attached fling just for fun and stuck a sticky note on the page.

  “What are you doing?” Carly asked, trying to look over her shoulder.

  “Nothing.” She snapped the book closed. She was definitely not explaining the sticky notes. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “Take your time,” Carly called after her.

  Even though the sign in Preston’s window invited her in, Zoe hesitated when she reached his door. Maybe he didn’t want to see her, and she definitely didn’t want to see that reaction on his face.

  But she also didn’t want Thanksgiving to be their last interaction, so after giving herself a mental kick in the ass, she opened the door and walked in.

  As though she’d walked into a replay of the first time she’d entered this office, Preston looked up from his laptop and took off his computer glasses. Even though he was alone, he was still fully suited up, right down to the precisely knotted tie.

  “Zoe.”

  “Hey. You said you wanted to read this.”

  Confusion clouded his face until she got close enough so he could see the cover. “Oh. Yes, I did want to know how the brother made out.”

  He stood as she held it out to him, and she noticed the way his gaze lingered on the sticky note before he set it on his desk. “You didn’t have to bring it over.”

  She shrugged. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to come in the store or not.”

  “Of course I was.” He gave her a sheepish smile. “Eventually, when I worked up the nerve. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me.”

  “I do.” She decided to keep the visit short and sweet, before either of them could make it awkward. Having accomplished what she set out to do—reestablish that they’re still friends at least, if not heading toward more—she started to turn but stopped.

  “Where, exactly, are you hoping to be kissed?”

  Preston frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “The tie?”

  He scowled down at it then shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

  “Mistletoe. You’ve got mistletoe hung around your neck and if one gets kissed under the mistletoe...just wondering where you expect to be kissed.”

  His face flamed and she couldn’t help laughing about how flustered she could make him. “I thought it was just a generic Christmas pattern. I was trying to be jolly or something.”

  “I guess getting kissed under that mistletoe would definitely make you jolly.”

  And with their shared laughter ringing through his office, she gave him a sassy wave and left, leaving him to watch her walk out the door.

  * * *

  Where, exactly, are you hoping to be kissed?

  Preston tossed his pen on the desk and leaned back in his chair with a groan.

  It was three days later and he could still hear that question rattling around in his head. He was supposed to be concentrating on the tangled knot four marriages, six children and three properties had made of a new client’s estate. He had an appointment with the client tomorrow to go over his preliminary suggestion for creating a trust. That would require him to be able to articulate his suggestion.

  So far the only thing his brain could articulate was a strong desire for Zoe to take his tie up on its inadvertent offer.

  She was punishing him, he thought. She knew the effect she had on him and because he’d tried to preempt being hurt by saying a bunch of really dumb—if regrettably true—stuff at Thanksgiving dinner, she was going to tease him until his balls exploded.

  It didn’t help that he’d probably be seeing her tonight at the Christmas party. He didn’t know for a fact she’d be there, but he knew Noah and Carly were going, thanks to running into Noah at the market. That meant Zoe would probably be there, too.

  He just needed to get in, socialize, meet some new people and then get out.

  But first he needed to finish his notes on the estate from hell. He forced himself to focus long enough to put some thoughts on paper and then locked up. At home, he had a very light meal in case Abe’s party hosting didn’t include food, and then he took a shower. He decided against the suit he’d usually wear to a holiday party in Boston and went with casual khakis and a lightweight red sweater over a cream V-neck T-shirt.

  He had a little bit of time left to kill, so he pulled out his phone and pulled up the ongoing group chat he had going with both of his parents.

  Getting ready for a Christmas party, but I wanted to say hi real quick and see where you are right now.

  Instead of texting back, his mother called him, so he ended up talking with her for almost an hour. Of course, she asked him if he was seeing anybody yet.

  “I’ve been mostly focused on getting my business off the ground,” he said, which wasn’t really accurate. The ratio of focus on his business and focus on Zoe was definitely skewed in Zoe’s favor.

  He was relieved when the conversation turned to the holidays, and he reassured his mother for the umpteenth time that yes, he knew they’d always wanted to experience Christmas in Hawaii and he was totally okay with waiting until the new year to see them. Then he noticed the
time and realized he was running slightly later than the fashionably late he’d been shooting for.

  “I need to get going, Mom. Tell Dad I said hi and I love him.”

  “We love you. Enjoy the party and keep your eye out for a nice woman to date. I hate that you’re alone.”

  Two hours of socializing later, Preston found himself unable to stop looking at Zoe. And he really needed to stop.

  He also needed to stop drinking the festively colored punch that had a hell of a lot more than fruit juice and raspberry sherbet in it.

  His phone vibrated and, since he’d left his smart watch home on the charger, he pulled it out of his pocket. Whoever sent the text wasn’t in his contacts list, so the sender info was just a phone number. But the text message itself made him suck in a sharp breath.

  Are you just going to watch me all night or are you going to come talk to me?

  Chapter Seven

  Zoe was playing with fire. She knew it, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. She’d been watching him, too, and she knew he was probably starting to feel the effects of Abe’s holiday punch. There was a reason she sipped it slowly.

  He walked across the room to her, phone still in his hand. The heat in his eyes burned through her, erasing her lingering guilt about getting his number out of her granddad, and she smiled up at him when he finally reached the quiet corner she’d managed to park herself in.

  “You look like you’re having a good time,” she said.

  He leaned closer so he could do the not-sober version of a whisper. “I think you look incredibly sexy tonight.”

  “And I think you’re a lightweight.”

  “Thank you. I work out every morning.”

  Oh, she’d definitely spent enough time checking out his body to be aware of that. “I meant with regard to alcohol. I don’t think you’re much of a drinker.”

  “I’m not, but I wanted to be friendly. When you’re the new guy trying to make himself at home in a new community, you don’t want to refuse the local customs.”

  “Local customs?” She laughed. “Drinking Abe’s holiday punch is less of a local custom and more a way for the guys to survive Christmas Charades.”