His voice is gruff and I wonder if I’ve offended him, but I take the pillow and blanket.
“Good night, Ben,” I say, shoving the pillow against the window and closing my eyes.
“Night, Brittney. Let me know if you need something.”
I’m aware of him shifting his weight, trying to get comfortable.
“Ben? Do you want to take the bed?”
“Nah, I couldn’t do that and leave you here with a broken window.”
I open my eyes and peer at his shadow. “Are you being chivalrous?”
He’s leaning against the driver’s door with one hand on the steering wheel and his elbow sticking out over the doorframe where the window used to be. “Somebody might walk by and see you in here. I can’t very well protect you if I’m asleep in the truck bed.”
I sigh, not bothering to hide it. “So, in a nice way, you’re saying I should sleep back there with you?”
“I wouldn’t dare suggest it.” He shakes his head. “You’d claim I was sexually harassing you.”
“Stop it, Ben. I’m not claiming anything. That was my lawyer’s strategy to get them to drop the charges.”
“Except it’ll make me look guilty as sin.” He turns his bulk toward me. “Can we drop all the blame and work together? Maybe we can both get off .”
I can’t help the laughter that slips through my lips. “Repeat that again? We work together and both get off?”
He chuckles softly. “Who’s the one with the dirty mind now?”
“Sorry, but you served that one up nice and easy.” I nudge his arm. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Depends on if it’ll hurt or not.”
“It won’t hurt, I promise.” I scoot closer to him. “Were you flirting with me when you asked me to be your pet?”
“If I said I was, would it be harassment?”
“Only if it was unwanted.”
“Then let me ask you a question.” His breath is warm over my hair, and I realize he’s moved closer. “Did you want me to flirt with you?”
I swallow hard and the truth spills out. “I wanted you to be attracted to me, yes. But not because of my body, because that’s what every man sees first.”
Gulp. What did I just do? Why did I open up to him? Here in the dark, in the middle of a deserted parking garage? I close my eyes and wait, my body tense, ready to fend off his touch, yet hoping against hope he’s different from the rest.
“What if I told you I noticed your awesome overhand throw first?”
“Like when I broke your window?”
“No, when you crumpled up the paperwork and tossed it at that douche-canoe who was following you around.”
“You saw?” My hand moves up his arm to his shoulder, and my insides soften as tingles electrify my skin.
“It’s not many women who can throw like you.” He captures my hand. “Were you a pitcher?”
“How’d you guess? Women’s softball team at Berkeley. What else did you notice?”
Now I’m definitely fishing. I’m lucky it’s so dark, because I’m hot and my lips are moist, and it would be mortifying if he knew how much I want him to kiss me.
“This.” He thumbs my lower lip, tugging it lightly. “But I can’t say what I’d like to do about it.”
“I can.” I slide my hand over his shoulder and move in until his breath is on my lips. “May I kiss you?”
“Only if you’re not feeling harassed.”
“I’m not. You never harassed me. I’ll tell my lawyer to drop it.”
I close my eyes, barely able to hold still. Warmth flows between us, and I can feel his lips moisten.
With a wrenching shudder, he pulls away and steps out of the truck.
Hot tears pierce my eyelids, and I bury my face in the pillow, pulling the blanket over me.
He got what he wanted, and it wasn’t me.
~ Ben ~
Ben circled around his truck, blowing off his frustration. He’d be a fool to fall into her trap. What was he thinking, getting so close to her? Parking in a dark garage?
He hadn’t been able to see that beautiful face of hers, to know without a doubt that she’d truly wanted to kiss him. She could have been testing him. Waiting for him to make a grab.
He didn’t truly know this Brittney, whether she was honest or kind or devious. A pretty face hid a lot of sins, and even though she said she’d drop the lawsuit, what was to say she wouldn’t change her mind?
This was no way to start a pro football career, lose his focus on a woman who dragged his name and reputation into the gutter by dressing so scantily.
He should be praying for his grandfather, begging God to spare him and sending good thoughts for the surgeon. Not wishing he could kiss the living devil out of a woman he’d just met—one who spelled trouble. Deep trouble of the kind he wouldn’t be able to walk away from.
Now that he’d been so close to tasting those lips, it was all he could think about. Her sweet, yet sporty scent had surrounded him, and the way she looked without makeup was both pure and refreshing.
She’d also listened to him talk about his mother and sister, and she seemed to care—about him.
He was doomed. Utterly and irrevocably doomed. And face it. He really, really wanted to kiss her.
Ben strode back to his truck. He was driving her home. No arguments. Grandpa was his grandfather, not hers. Grandpa was all he had, whereas she had two complete sets of grandparents still alive and kicking.
Until his lawyer heard from her lawyer and the lawsuit and rumors were truly squashed, he wasn’t going to risk getting Grandpa upset by showing up with Brittney Reed, the tease who enjoyed getting men hot and desperate before accusing them of harassment.
Chapter Thirteen
~ Brittney ~
It sucks not having a cell phone, a purse, a wallet, or even spare change. I dig in the glove compartment of Ben’s truck and collect a handful of coins.
I can’t believe I threw myself at him and he rejected me. Flat out walked away without even an explanation. No matter. I’m not sticking around where I’m not wanted.
I peel myself from the blanket, wipe my eyes and take off Ben’s jacket. My oversized t-shirt is thin, but all I need to do is run back into the hospital and make a phone call.
There’s no point in locking the door with a busted window, and I doubt any carjackers are around. Our town is relatively small and safe.
“Where are you going?” Ben’s voice booms from the dark, startling me.
“Away from you.” I turn toward the elevator in a jog.
“I’ll take you home.” He cuts me off, barreling all two-hundred plus pounds of him, but stops short of smashing into me.
“You don’t have to. I’ll call Lacy, or my parents.”
“It’s well after midnight. It’s a short drive and I’m sure Grandpa’s still in the middle of the operation. No news is good news, right? It means he’s doing okay.”
“Right. I’ll pray better at home.”
“I agree. Let’s go. I won’t have you running around in the middle of the night.” He grabs my upper arm and pulls me as if he’s escorting a criminal.
Of course, he’s right. I can’t wake Lacy or my parents. Besides, her car’s still back at my work. I’m sure she noticed it missing, but didn’t say anything. She’s always telling me to let my hair down and take her wheels. According to her, my life is too boring—just like that reliable white Toyota I drive.
Meanwhile, I’m being herded by Neanderthal to his truck.
If he was friendly before, he’s not showing it now. He opens the door and leaves to go to his side before waiting for me to get in. I pull it shut and refuse to look his direction.
He plops into the driver’s side and turns the key.
Nothing happens.
Of all the freaking coincidences. It’s like there’s a giant cosmic joke on me. Despite everything that happened at the tree farm, the police station, and now at the hospital, I have to face the
facts straight on.
I wish Ben liked me. I wish he’d notice me, and I wish he’d let me peek beneath his armor. He might look like a big, hulking, scary defensive linebacker on the outside, but inside, he’s a boy who loved his mother and baby sister and still misses them. I bet he wasn’t given the chance to mourn. I bet his father told him to get over it, to move on, like he did, marrying the first woman he came across.
Ben pounds on the steering wheel and curses. “It’s not the battery. So, why isn’t it turning on?”
He flicks on the dome light to prove his point.
“The starter?”
“There’s not even a click. It’s like it’s dead. Like the wires are cut.”
“Who would have cut the wires? I was only gone a few seconds.” I huff in case he thinks I played any tricks.
“I’m not accusing you, okay?” He looks at me, all gruff and glowering, all two-hundred-plus pounds of steely muscles, bunched up like a grizzly bear.
“I’m not accusing you of anything either.” I look away. “But if we’re stuck here, may I borrow your phone? I need to check in with my team and find out if they’ve fixed the build, or if they left the building five minutes after I did.”
“Sure. After I call the tow truck.” He flips his phone from his pocket and speaks to an operator to connect him.
“There’s nothing worse than being stuck in a parking garage with a grouch who can’t stand you.” I shake my head and lean back, putting my feet on the dashboard.
“I didn’t say I couldn’t stand you.” He hands me his phone. “Look, it’s been a long day for both of us.”
“You can say that again.” I text Samantha and ask for the build status. “Lacy got me up early to squeeze me into her elf costume.”
“Same here. Woke up at seven so Grandpa could stuff me into his suit, and even then I couldn’t button it.”
“Tell me about it.” I text Lester, the build engineer, since Samantha hasn’t responded. “Then she cakes all that yucky makeup over me.”
“Huh, nothing’s worse than that glue Grandpa painted over me. Medical grade, he says, but it’s sticky and tacky and gums up your pores. At least you didn’t have to wear yak’s hair.”
“Yak’s hair?” I stifle a chuckle, and text Holly, the test engineer, asking her if automation passed.
“Yep, the best Santa’s beards are made of real yak’s hair. It’s getting harder to come by these days due to conservation, but Grandpa gets his from a ranch in Mongolia. Ethically harvested when they shave the beasts in the summer.”
“How’d you know all this?” I frown at the phone. Why isn’t anyone answering my texts?
“He told me while he slowly glued and pressed each hair in place.”
“Had to make you look real.” I try to remember the numbers for the other two engineers, but can’t. Sighing, I go back to the main text screen.
“Do I look like a real Santa?” He stares at me.
The dome light is still on, so I take the opportunity to get a good look at him. His big, lustrous brown eyes and features chiseled in stone look more like Conan the Barbarian than a warm, fuzzy old guy from the North Pole.
“Depends on what real means. I think you’d make a great Santa.”
“I’m not sure my goal in life is to be a Santa Claus.” Ben smiles warily.
“Really? I would never have guessed.” Somehow, his reluctance to admit how hard it was for him to help his grandpa has me teasing him. “I’d say you’re a natural.”
“And you? Are you always so, so, uh, elfy all the time?”
“Elfy? What are you really saying?”
“Nothing.” There’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead and the truck cab seems to be hotter. “Grandpa thought your sister would be the elf.”
“She usually is, and in case you’re wondering, that’s her outfit she stretched over me and her makeup she plastered on me. What I can’t believe is that woman who got us arrested said Lacy was a sweet and helpful elf, whereas I’m a sluh—never mind …”
“You don’t usually dress like that?” Ben’s right eyebrow rises, and his eyes are roving over my face—my unmade face. I probably look like a lab rat right now with no color, not even mascara to highlight my light-colored lashes.
“What you see is what I am.”
“Why’d Lacy dress you up then?”
“She thought I’d need help to make a good impression and be more attractive.”
“And you’re not attractive the way you are?”
Ugh. I hate rhetorical questions. Of course he knows the answer. I lower my face, unable to bear his scrutiny. Face it. I never had a chance with a hunky football star like Ben. He never noticed me years ago, and the only reason he notices me now is because we got into trouble together.
“Brittney, I think you’d make a great elf the way you are. Don’t let Lacy or anyone else tell you otherwise.”
“Yeah, okay, a great elf.” I stare at his phone, wondering who else I can text. It’s obvious I’ve been relegated to nice-elf-status, several steps below the dreaded friend-zone.
A new text message rolls across the screen and I open it. It takes me a second before I realize it’s for Ben.
Call me, will you? Susanna
I drop the phone like it’s a hot potato. No wonder he didn’t want what I was offering. He already has a girlfriend.
Ben bends down to pick up the phone at the same time I try to retrieve it.
Our heads bang together with a pop.
“Ow.” I rub my head. “You have a message. Someone named Susanna.”
“Suz, what’s she doing up so late?” A grin splits his face, and even in the dim light of the cab, I can feel the warmth he has for the woman he calls Suz.
“She wants you to call her. Don’t mind me.” I push the door open.
“I’ll call her later. Stay.” He picks up the phone and reaches across me to close the door.
His body is so large, it squeezes me into the seatback, and I can’t help inhaling his scent, full of musk and adventure.
Except he’s a good guy because he apologizes for encroaching into my space, and then puts as much distance between us as he can. “You still need the phone?”
“Nope, no one’s answering. I’m going to have to fire the whole worthless lot.”
“Said like a Scrooge. It’s Saturday night, actually Sunday morning. No one should be awake.”
“Except Susanna.” Oh gosh. Am I now going to bitch about it, too? I might as well drop into a hole and disappear.
“She keeps weird hours.” He chuckles. “Don’t worry about her.”
“I’m not worried.”
“Good.”
He obviously holds a lot of affection for her. I really shouldn’t intrude any further. My wishes don’t mean a thing, and even though he jokingly asked me to be his pet, he only wanted to pet my big pom-poms—as I suspected.
Still, it’s not harassment, just flirting, because ever since he touched me, so gently and in a nonsexual manner, all I can think about is how much I want him to touch and tease, lick and suck, maybe even run his rod between my mumbo-jumbos.
Holding onto the fantasy, I close my eyes and pretend to sleep, wishing like heck he’d seen something in me he liked, not just someone who made a great elf.
This year, I’ll tell Santa what I really want, instead of being the good girl who tells him what I think he wants to hear.
~ Ben ~
Ben’s eyes snapped open, and he raised his hand to block the sharp beam of a flashlight.
“Oh, it’s you two again,” the police officer who’d arrested them said with a sneer.
Ben swept Brittney’s hair from his face and would have tossed her to her side of the truck if she hadn’t been asleep. How did she end up in his arms?
He didn’t want to let her go, to lose the feel of her body curving into his, as if she belonged nowhere else but by his side, close to him, with him.
Why were the police here? Couldn’t
they stop disturbing him? What time was it? Wait, what were they still doing in the truck?
Fully awake, Ben carefully moved a limp Brittney to the passenger side, taking care to tuck a pillow to rest her head against the passenger door.
“What’s going on?” he said to the officer shining the flashlight in his face.
“You tell me.”
His partner, the guy who’d leered at Brittney, pulled open the passenger door. Ben’s reactions were so fast, he didn’t realize he’d grabbed ahold of her until the officer stepped back and shined his light on her face.
She woke with a start, moaning, “Go away. Leave me alone.”
Assbite. He was going to let her tumble onto the concrete without even trying to catch her.
“We got a complaint about two people loitering in the parking garage,” the jerk of a cop said. “Didn’t you two cause enough trouble at the Christmas tree farm?”
“You two weren’t planning on indecently exposing yourself here, were you?” the officer on Ben’s side asked.
“For your information, his grandfather’s in the hospital.” Brittney regained her facilities, including her all important tongue.
Ben glanced at his phone. There was a single new text. Surgery successful. In recovery. Will let you know when he’s awake.
“Everything okay?” Brittney’s compassionate eyes were on him.
“Yes, he’s in recovery.”
“Oh, Ben.” She reached across the seat and hugged him. “That’s wonderful.”
“Hate to break it up, folks,” the cop on Brittney’s side said. “But I need you two to step out of the truck.”
“Step out? What did we do?” Brittney turned toward the cop.
“Are you disobeying a direct order from a police officer?” The jerk glared at her.
“No, sir. I just want to know what you’re charging us with.”
“Loitering, trespassing. Didn’t you see the sign? No overnight parking?”
“You too,” the officer on Ben’s side said. “Out of the truck, nice and slow.”
“Sir, my truck won’t start. That’s why we’re stuck here. We tried calling a tow truck.”
“Get out of the cab.” The policeman opened his door.
Meanwhile, Brittney remained sitting with her arms crossed over her breasts and that cute, utterly kissable pout plumping her lower lip.
Santa's Pet Page 9
