“Me and Miss Lydia did. She said we could call our reindeer whatever we wanted. That one back there with the red lights around her antlers is Shania Twain. And that one with the chipped hoof is Alan Jackson.”
I followed the direction of his finger and spotted the damaged reindeer. There was a sign around its neck proclaiming it was sold as is with a large discount due to the damage.
“Poor Alan. How did he get hurt?”
Jaden pointed to the lone shopping cart in the Christmas shop. “Millie and Max ran into it with that cart.”
“And Miss Lydia didn’t make them buy it since they damaged it?”
Jaden giggled. “No. On account they don’t got no money. They’re only four.”
I grinned. “I see.”
“Anyway, this one next to Tim is Faith and that one is—” Jaden stopped mid-sentence, his eyes going wide. “What’s that?”
I glanced down and noticed Louis had made his way over to us from the Feed and Seed side. “Oh.” Bending down, I picked up my sweet bichon. “This is my dog. Louis Vuitton.”
Jaden frowned. “Is he named after a singer too?”
I shook my head. “No. After a fashion designer. He made purses and wallets and watches.”
Jaden was wholly unimpressed. “That’s a weird thing to name your dog.”
I laughed, considering this was coming from a kid who’d tossed a two-hundred-year-old poem to the curb in favor of naming his reindeer after country singers. He basically had the entire Grand Ol’ Opry roster in the Holly Jolly.
“So who are the others?” I asked.
Jaden petted Faith on the nose, then introduced me to Kenny Chesney, Toby Keith, Martina McBride, and Taylor Swift. Taylor was obviously the little boy’s favorite.
I said hello to each of the reindeer, amused by Jaden’s affection for the statues.
“I see you’ve met everyone.”
I turned at the sound of Joe’s voice. He’d shed the Santa hat, boots, and pants in favor of his real clothes. Sadly, that included a flannel shirt that hid the pecs I had a strong desire to run my fingers over just to see if they were as hard as they looked.
“Uncle Joe.” Jaden raced across the floor, grasping Joe’s hand. “This is Paris, the one Miss Lydia said was going to run the store now.”
“We’ve met,” Joe said.
I looked down at his—thank you, Jesus—nephew. Joe’s ring finger was bare.
No, no, no. I could not fraternize with a local. That was a bad idea. I was leaving.
Wait. That was the perfect way to fraternize with a local. Have a little fun, then hop on a plane. If anyone could keep me warm in this frozen hellscape, it was Joe.
It would make my two weeks in North Pole tolerable.
Between the unintentional humor of Jaden, the Holly Jolly Seed and Feed, the kindness of Sandy, and the potential for sitting on Santa Joe’s lap, maybe Indiana wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Three
Joe
I knew that look Paris was giving me. It was a look that had dropped men to one knee, made them stupid, toppled kingdoms, and launched wars.
It was the look of a woman who wanted something from you.
And knew she was going to get it.
Paris wore a sly, flirtatious smile that made me both wary and hard as a rock.
“We’ve definitely met,” Paris said, her eyes dropping down to my crotch.
Not as intimately as I’d like to. Damn. The woman was bold, and I was shocked by my reaction to that. I was the guy who went for the sweet girl next door. This woman, with her animal print coat and purse dog, was not my type.
There was no point in getting involved with a woman like that, no matter how tempting.
I turned to my nephew. “Did you get an after-school snack? Grandma should be back soon, and we’ll head home.”
This kid was reason number one I’d never leave North Pole. My sister had fallen into addiction when Jaden was a toddler, and I’d been helping my mom raise him ever since Jenny had disappeared. Jaden was a great kid, and I was going to be there for him, no matter what, and not from a distance. He needed a man in his life. If I wasn’t around, he’d be spending afternoons with reindeer statues at the Feed and Seed and evenings watching Rachel Ray chop onions on TV with my mother. Not ideal for an eight-year-old boy.
I had my own apartment, but it was right next door to Mom’s house, so I was around to cut the grass, take out the garbage, toss a ball to Jaden. It wasn’t for everyone, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Family comes first.
Jaden nodded, then asked Paris, “Can I take Louis outside on his leash?”
“Um.” She swallowed visibly, the idea clearly making her nervous. “I don’t think he likes the cold.”
“How about we walk you home?” I asked her. “We’re about to close up the store anyway.” I’d seen her suitcases in the back, so she had to be eager to get to Lydia’s house and get settled finally. “Jaden can walk the dog, and I’ll walk you.” I gave her a smile.
“Haha. So funny. Don’t quit your day job.” Paris leveled me with a curious look. “What is your day job, by the way? Do you work here too?”
“No. I own a construction business. I do renovations and general contract work.”
“Oh, so you’re good with your hands?”
I couldn’t help myself. “Very,” I said in a low voice. Way to stay determined, Joe Idiot, I mentally reprimanded myself.
“Uncle Joe built me a treehouse,” Jaden said, down on his knees now, carefully petting the dog.
“How nice of Uncle Joe.” Paris smiled down at Jaden. “Do you want to walk Louis to Lydia’s house with me?”
“Yes!”
“Will you drive my suitcases down to the house?” she asked me. “I don’t think I can walk in snow and roll my bags at the same time. I have a lot of skills but maneuvering in a blizzard isn’t one of them.”
If she thought a couple of inches was a blizzard, she was in for a rude awakening.
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll walk you down, then I will bring your bags over.” I glanced down at her fuck-me boots. “I anticipate you needing a hand just staying on your feet.”
“I do my best work off my feet,” she said.
For a second I thought she was flirting and was amused, but then her eyes widened as she realized how that sounded. She glanced at Jaden like she was mortified to have inadvertently sounded sexual in front of a kid. It made me like her even more. She may be upscale compared to North Pole standards, but she was being super cool with my nephew.
“Sleeping, I mean! I love to sleep. And I clearly need more right now. I took a red-eye. It was brutal.” She wrinkled her nose and touched her cheeks. “And now I’m babbling.”
I felt bad for her. I didn’t travel very often, and when I did, I hated it. Delays, cramped seats on planes, not being in control… I like to be in control. “You’re not babbling. A red-eye sounds horrible. Have you even eaten anything today?” Food rules my life. But then again, I’m a guy. I need protein every two hours, or I want to chew nails.
She shook her head. “Just organic chickpea puffs.”
“I don’t even know what the hell that is, but it sounds about as filling as swallowing sawdust.” I went behind the desk and opened the drawer. “Lydia’s house key.” I held it up to show her. “Let’s get you home and feed you. We can order takeout, or I bet I can rustle up some spaghetti out of Lydia’s cupboard.”
“Thanks,” she said, looking a little confused but a lot appreciative. “That’s really sweet of you. But…”
“But what?” I asked.
She shook her head a little. “But you don’t even know me.”
That surprised me. “So? You’re Lydia’s niece. You’re new in town. It’s called being neighborly.”
“I think Louis needs to poop,” Jaden said, pointing to the little dog anxiously pacing back and forth on the concrete floor.
“Jaden…” I felt like I should reprimand him,
but the truth was, the dog did look like he was desperate to appease the call of nature.
Paris looked grateful for the interruption. “Oh, I bet you’re right! It’s been all day. He doesn’t know what to do in the snow.”
“Let’s go,” I said, skipping my coat. I’d come back for it when I got the bags. I could use a little fresh air because I was doing it. I was fucking doing the same thing I always did—I was looking at a pair of pretty eyes and getting sucked in.
It made me annoyed with myself. She was flirting with me a little, sure, but she probably flirted without even knowing she was doing it. I needed to not be a dumbass.
Jaden took Louis’ leash and led the dog out the front door. At first the little fluffball seemed startled and sniffed cautiously, bouncing on his paws. Then he stuck his nose into some new-fallen snow and tossed it up into the air. It was at that moment he became a real dog, not some California pampered purse pooch. He started to jump around, flinging snow, and Jaden encouraged him by jogging alongside him.
The dog didn’t even look back as they took off down the sidewalk.
“At least he likes the snow,” I said as I closed the front door to the store.
“Just leave Mommy in the dust, kid, it’s fine,” she said, sounding amused. “After all I’ve done for you.” She took a few tentative steps and glanced at me. “Aren’t you going to lock the door?”
“Nah. I’m coming right back.”
Or would be eventually. Paris walked with a speed that would make a snail look like a sprinter. She was staring at her feet, arms splayed out for balance, and making noises with each step she took.
“Oh!” Step. “Oh my God.” Another tiny step. “Ack!” A step that turned into a slight slide. “Shit!” Her head popped up to look for Jaden. “I mean shoot. He didn’t hear me, did he?”
“I don’t think so.” I was having a hard time walking as slow as Paris. I have long legs, and it was actually challenging to not charge ten feet ahead. “He’s going to be in the next county by the time you catch up with him at the pace you’re going.”
She shot me a look of irritation and took another wobbly step. “You try walking in heels.”
“Uh, no, thanks. Not my style.”
“What’s your style?” Paris swiped at her hair, which had blown into her face. “It’s so cold. I can’t see. My eyelashes are covered in snow.”
My style? Taking charge. That was me. Not a whole lot of talking, but a whole lot of doing. I couldn’t walk this slow anymore. It was physically impossible. “Paris.”
“What?” She grabbed on to my arm when she slipped again.
“Come here.” I wrapped my arm around her ass and hauled her up. I tossed her over my shoulder while she screamed.
“What are you doing? Put me down!”
“Showing you my style. And getting you home before midnight.”
“Oh.” Her squirming instantly stopped. “I see.” Her voice changed, grew husky, curious.
She weighed almost nothing. Carrying her down the sidewalk took no effort whatsoever. But with each step, I became more and more aware of how her breasts were pressed against me, her hair dangling over my shoulder, and her pert little ass inches above my forearm.
She was really fucking hot, and I was regretting my inability to be the guy who just took a woman he didn’t know home and banged her brains out. Even if I was that guy, I had Jaden with me so there was no point in getting turned on when I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
Paris wiggled a little.
Damn. The only thing that saved me from spontaneously combusting was the biting wind and fat snowflakes hitting me in the face.
We were nearly to Lydia’s house when I spotted my mom, pulled up to the curb, talking to Jaden.
She rolled her eyes as I walked up to the truck with Paris slung over my shoulder.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Put Paris down, Joe.”
Paris twisted, attempting to see my mom, but I didn’t let her down. “Hi, Sandy,” she said, waving awkwardly. “Heels and ice don’t mix.”
“I’m aware. You all close up the shop?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I’m going to run back there after I get Paris settled in to grab her bags and lock everything up.”
“Great. My mouth is killing me. Jaden, hand Joe that leash and come on home with me. I need to pop a few Advil and lay down.”
Jaden reluctantly gave me the leash, which I immediately handed to Paris. Then my nephew bent down to pet the dog one more time before climbing in the cab of the truck. “See you at home, Uncle Joe.”
I nodded my goodbye and watched the two of them drive away.
Paris wiggled again and started to slide off my shoulder. I hoisted her more securely, my hand on her ass. Once I had a good grip on her, I patted her ass and started up the sidewalk to her front door as she laughed.
“Spank it a little harder next time,” she teased.
Dammit. Resistance was going to be pretty fucking futile if she kept flirting with me like that.
And then, because she issued the invitation, I swatted her ass again. Harder.
She moaned a little, and I knew I was a goner.
I set her down at the front door and unlocked it, gesturing for her to walk in first.
Paris’ gaze traveled around the front room of Lydia’s house, and it didn’t take a genius to see the city girl wasn’t impressed. It wasn’t that Lydia had a bad house. But it was definitely better suited to an older woman, with the antique furniture that had “been in the family since the beginning of time,” according to Lydia. Every flat surface was covered with lace doilies, and chintz curtains hung in the windows. There was plastic covering the green and gold velvet settee in the parlor and an oriental rug covering the hardwood floor.
“Wow,” Paris half whispered, half mouthed.
“Lydia didn’t spend much time in this room,” I quickly explained. “There’s a family room at the back of the house where she usually kicked back at night to knit and read.” Of course, the decor in that room wasn’t much better than this room, I realized as I recalled the mountain scene wallpaper that adorned one whole wall, the rest covered in wood paneling that screamed 1970 and the green shag carpeting. Maybe I’d let her discover that room on her own.
Her stomach growled, reminding me that she hadn’t eaten all day. “How about we head to the kitch—”
That was all I managed to say before Louis started barking and jumping like he’d been bitten by a snake. Then I heard a hiss and a ferocious growl.
“Shit,” I said. “I forgot about Roscoe.”
Paris glanced my direction for a hot second before Louis reclaimed her attention, the small dog literally trying to climb up her leg in his efforts to escape Lydia’s big old tomcat, Roscoe.
“A cat?” she asked, picking Louis up just before the cat sprung. Roscoe circled the three of us, like a tiger stalking its prey.
“Go on, Roscoe,” I said, snapping my fingers at the grumpy beast. I’d been feeding the cat since Lydia’s passing, but apparently providing sustenance wasn’t enough to endear the asshole to me.
Roscoe gave me the evil eye, then slunk upstairs, probably to his usual hiding spot under Lydia’s bed. I’d have to warn Paris the cat was a master of sneak attacks when anyone walked too close to him.
“She has a cat.” She sighed, sounding more tired by the minute. “What the hell am I going to do with a cat?”
“Sorry I forgot to mention that. Come on. Let’s get you something to eat, and then I’ll run back to the store for your bags.”
She followed me to the kitchen, dropping heavily onto one of the wooden chairs while I rummaged through the cabinets. Sure enough, I found a box of spaghetti and a jar of sauce. I was no Bobby Flay, but I could whip up pasta easy enough.
“I’ve never seen so many tins in my life,” Paris said, gesturing to Lydia’s collection of vintage tins. They lined the top of the cupboards, stacked three high. “Lydia was clearly into antiques.
”
I nodded as I filled a pot with water. “What are you into, Paris? Besides fluffy little dogs and impractical shoes?” I lifted the lid on the glass jar filled with cat treats and bent down to offer one to Louis.
The bichon wasn’t above taking whatever he could get. He eagerly ate it out of my hand.
“I own a pet boutique. I like music festivals, wine, and traveling. Though I don’t get to travel very often right now while I’m establishing my business.”
Yep. Nothing in common. “It’s very impressive that you opened your own store at your age.” I slid the pasta into the water and unscrewed the lid of the sauce.
“Is that a meat sauce?” she asked. “I’m a vegetarian.”
Of course she was. They probably required that before they let you into California. I glanced at the jar. “It’s just tomato and basil.”
“Okay, good. Not to be needy or anything. But I can’t do beef. I don’t think I could even put meat in my mouth, let alone swallow.”
I waited, amused, eyeing her.
She got it a heartbeat later. She shook her head and gave me a grin. “Shit. You know that’s not what I meant.”
“So you do swallow?”
Her look was sly, flirtatious. “In certain circumstances.”
“Tell me, Paris. You got a boyfriend in Los Angeles?” What? It’s called making conversation. Getting to know someone.
Paris smiled. “Nope. Not for the last eighteen months. What about you? You look like a guy who always has a girlfriend.”
It was true. I was that guy. I used to be that guy anyway. “I’m single. I’ve run out of options in North Pole. If you didn’t lock and load a woman by your early twenties, you got left flying solo.”
“And why didn’t you lock and load some lucky girl? You’re not ugly.”
That made me laugh. “Thanks. Let’s just say I chose poorly. I went on emotion when I should have been practical.”
Paris shook her head. “No. Relationships shouldn’t be practical at all. I tried to be practical and date the man who looked good on paper, and it was all wrong.”
“What happened?”
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