Winter Love

by Kennedy Fox

  “Okay, but you know him,” Brittany says. “You’ve studied him more than you’ve studied some of your clients, so tell me everything you know and we’ll figure this out.”

  I look up at the ceiling as I name all the things I can think of off the top of my head. “He seems to like the color blue because he wears it almost every day and all his desk supplies are blue, probably to match his gorgeous eyes or maybe because he’s a big Cubs fan and everything is Cubbie Blue. Every time that waffle food truck drives by the office, he runs down to be the first in line. He listens to music while he works. He puts hot sauce on tacos. He drives a BMW. He smells like the forest after a fresh rain mixed with chopped wood.”

  Brittany holds up a hand. “Okay, I think we’re good,” she says. “A mini waffle maker, a selection of hot sauces, fancy earbuds or some kind of earbud holder, and then fill in the gaps with whatever’s left on his list.” She ticks off each item as she says them.

  I stare at her with my jaw hanging open. “You’re a lifesaver. And what for the big gift?”

  “Do you have any ideas?”

  “I could spread myself out somewhere and he could do whatever he wants to me,” I suggest, my brows raised in hope.

  She laughs, and she pulls out her phone. “You think that’s valued at a hundred bucks?” she asks, and I shoot her a wicked glare. “Kidding, kidding. Something with the Cubs maybe?”

  I look at her blankly. I’m not much of a sports girl despite having a brother who plays professional football for the Vegas Aces.

  “Okay, let’s see here. Gifts for men under one hundred dollars.” She taps around as she searches. “I’ll read some and you stop me if you like one of them. Pocketknife, clothes, shoes, whiskey, water bottle, phone charger, flashlight, flask, decanter set, man box—”

  “Man box?” I ask, interrupting her.

  “Yeah, like a big crate filled with all sorts of gifts.”

  “That would just mean I have to come up with even more ideas.” I wave a hand and make a face. “Pass.”

  “No, there’s a whole place where you just pick out what you think he’d like. So if he likes dark beer, they have boxes that have different kinds of beers in them.”

  “Interesting,” I murmur. “How fast can they ship?”

  She finds the site and looks around. “It could be here by Thursday with priority shipping.”

  “What about a man box with a little coupon booklet from me?”

  Brittany bursts into uncontrollable laughter. “Oh my God, Ellie,” she says when she finally composes herself. “Like this coupon’s good for a kiss? What are we, twelve?”

  “I thought it was a cute idea,” I grumble, my cheeks burning at the thought that a kiss was exactly the sort of thing I had in mind. I like the idea of letting him know I’m interested through these gifts.

  “Maybe a decade ago. But Todd is a man.”

  “Okay, fine,” I concede, pretending like I’m not totally offended by her judgment. “Then how do I both impress him and let him know I’m interested?”

  “The waffle maker and hot sauce and earbud ideas. Things that show you’ve been paying attention. He’ll get the hint,” she says.

  “Will he? Guys aren’t always that observant, Brit. I’ve been sending off all the vibes for months and I’m still getting nothing back.”

  “Trust me,” she says.

  Famous last words, am I right?

  Thank goodness for the quick shipping that comes with online ordering, because on Monday morning, I have a wrapped mini waffle maker that put me out twelve bucks plus a little bag of waffle mix. I wrapped it last night and even included a little bow, and I decided to just go for it as I typed out a label to fix onto the gift: To Todd, my Secret Santa Crush.

  When I say I decided to “just go for it,” what I really mean is that I printed the label and didn’t use it. But I have it in case I want to use it later in the week.

  I chickened out. Instead, I just wrote Todd on the first gift.

  I stealthily drop it on the front desk when I walk into the office, and Myrna, the receptionist, will make sure he gets it. When I walk into my office, I can’t help my wide smile.

  My blinds are already open. Letting light stream in from the window is the first thing I do every morning when I walk in.

  A venti Starbucks cup sits on top of a wrapped box on my desk. As I get closer, I also see a bit of red and green glittery confetti in the shape of Christmas trees, and I read the label on the cup.

  Venti nonfat white mocha extra whip.

  Yeah, I get it. Brittany always makes fun of me for getting extra whipped cream with a nonfat drink, but I feel like they cancel each other out.

  I can’t help my wide smile, and I also can’t help but wonder if Brittany lied about who she got. Who else would know my particular Starbucks order? I didn’t write it on my card.

  In fact, I scribbled some nonsense on my card.

  I like fluffy socks, popcorn, and glitter.

  I dislike banana-flavored food, horses, and turtlenecks.

  To be clear, I love bananas. But fake banana flavoring? Not my thing. And you’d dislike horses too if you were thrown off one when you were a child. Okay, that’s dramatic. I fell off, but still. I’m not a fan.

  See? Nowhere in that list do we find my Starbucks order.

  I take a sip and practically melt back into my chair. I don’t care who my Secret Santa is. I just love whoever it is. Even if it’s Karen.

  I go for the present next because I’m a child who can’t wait through reading a card to see what’s inside the gift. I tear the neat Christmas paper from the box and rip the cardboard to get inside faster, and I pull out a pair of the softest, fluffiest hot pink socks I’ve ever seen. I want to slip off my heels and walk around the office in them for the rest of the day, to be honest.

  But I feel like Belinda would have a thing or two to say about that.

  I finally go for the card.

  As Christmas comes closer you’ll find out who

  is your Secret Santa and has a thing for you

  I roll my eyes.

  Yep. It’s definitely Brittany. I just don’t know how she managed to get me to believe her lie that she drew Karen. She’s usually easier to see through than that.

  Even if I wanted to believe it could be someone like Todd, I know it isn’t for one very obvious reason: he’s a loud and proud Dunkin drinker. He’d never be caught dead picking up a drink for me from my preferred coffee vendor.

  I don’t get time to dwell on it because we have a standing team meeting on Monday mornings. I haven’t even powered up my computer yet to check my email, but I don’t want to be late. It’ll be the first meeting Belinda is running, so I’m anxious to get there on time and not make a fool of myself, but knowing me, I’ll manage to find a way.

  And I definitely do.

  I stride into the conference room with my Starbucks cup in hand, and everyone already gathered in the room turns to look at me...including Belinda, who cuts off in the middle of a sentence.

  Wait a minute. I check the clock on the wall. I’m three minutes early.

  Belinda stops talking. She looks sternly at the cup in my hand before glancing back up at me. “I see you had time to stop for coffee,” she scolds, and I feel about three inches tall.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say. “It’s a Secret Santa gift.”

  Her stern look seems to deepen. “Get to meetings on time or don’t bother coming at all.”

  I slide into the open seat next to Brittany as my cheeks flame. I shoot my best friend a special glare. “Why didn’t you tell me it started earlier?” I hiss once the attention isn’t on me anymore and Belinda resumes whatever I interrupted.

  “I emailed you,” she hisses back. “Didn’t you get it?”

  “No!” I whisper-yell. “Who emails these days?”

  “Someone who accidentally left her phone at home.”

  “Ladies,” Belinda warns, and oh my God could this day get any
worse?

  Yes, yes it can. I look up and my eyes meet Todd’s across the table. He smirks at me, and I just bet he’s Belinda’s number one guy while I’m on her shit list. He’s laughing at me, and I’m over here feeling like a complete and utter idiot. An unprepared, misinformed idiot.

  At least I have my coffee.

  Chapter Three

  “You didn’t get the email?” Todd asks. I squirm in my chair, but it’s not because of his question.

  It’s just the fact that he’s here in my office. Among other things, that fact is making me hot. For him.

  While I just want to curl up with my cozy socks from my Secret Santa, I can’t. Todd and I were given a project to work on together, and while we have many projects in the works, for some reason this one feels...different.

  While my niche is branding and social media, Todd’s is damage control. This career sometimes has a negative connotation to it—like clients only need us when they need to turn their image around. That may be true for the bad boys of Hollywood, but there’s a lot more to it. Clients turn to us when they want to build or protect reputations, not just when they get themselves into trouble. But when they do get themselves into trouble, nine times out of ten, Todd’s the guy with the answer.

  When we acquired a company that needed quick damage control and a total rebrand, it was natural to put the two of us on the project together.

  So what’s making me hot?

  It’s for a lingerie store.

  They’re all over the news since some actor slept with a prostitute and photos leaked with him holding bags from their store while he ushered the woman into a hotel. While all press is good press...this is a high-end store that wants a classy image, not a dirty one associated with paying for sexual encounters.

  It’s up to Todd and me to turn that around for them.

  Yes, you heard that right.

  I have to talk about prostitutes and lingerie and probably sex with the guy I have an enormous crush on in a professional environment, and that’s why it’s hotter than hell in my office right now. I swear to God, this would only happen to me.

  “I rushed in late this morning because I was wrapping my Secret Santa gift and didn’t have a chance to check my email. Who starts meetings early on a Monday morning, anyway?” I grumble.

  “I do,” Belinda says from my doorway.

  Oh ducking hell. Seriously?

  She steps in. “And I expect you to be at them. You missed several important points, including the fact that our team meetings will start at eight-thirty now and they will take place on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Timeliness is important to me, and I don’t work well with people who don’t take their responsibilities seriously.”

  “I take them very seriously,” I protest, but she just purses her lips at me.

  Fine. She’s already judged me, she’s berating me in front of my crush, and she hates me. Whatever. I can’t get out of this one.

  Prince Charming swoops in to save the day. “If I may, Belinda, Ellie is incredible at her job. In fact, we’re meeting now to discuss the Clandestine account and she has some excellent rebrand ideas.”

  I try not to blush too hard at his compliments. Belinda raises an eyebrow with some sort of harrumph noise.

  “I’d like to start over with you, Belinda,” I say, extending an olive branch, because let’s be honest here: I don’t much care for her, either.

  “I’m afraid that’s impossible,” she says. Who says that? I’m fuming as she continues. “As a professional in public relations, you of all people should know that first impressions are everything. With that said, I’ll expect you to be on time and for your focus to be on work rather than gossip. Todd, have a report to me by the end of the day on the Billings account, and Ellie, have a report to me by the end of the day on Masterview. I’ll expect the plan for Clandestine on my desk in two hours.”

  She spins out of my office, and Todd and I look at each other.

  “Two hours?” I repeat.

  He chuckles. “She really hates you.”

  I’m not laughing as the two of us get to work...but I am still squirming.

  The next morning, I set the wrapped set of hot sauces on Myrna’s desk, and I find another gift on my own desk.

  More coffee, this time with two cake pops (which take all of about six seconds to scarf down), and another small box. This one has a gorgeous winter scarf inside, and the card has a cute little poem again.

  This little gift (and the coffee) is just for you

  from your Secret Santa...bet you can’t guess who

  On Wednesday, I drop off the earbuds I ordered for Todd. I still chicken out on giving him the special tag I made, and I think for a second about how cute the poems on my own cards have been. But I don’t want to be a copy-cat. On my desk is coffee again and a box with a matching hat and mittens for yesterday’s scarf. The poem today reads:

  I can’t give you any hints to who I might be

  But pretty soon you’ll get to see

  Thursday is the random gift I bought as I tried to be original based on what I know about him. I got him some Cubs pint glasses that he can use with the dark beer I ordered in his man box. Waiting for me Thursday is more coffee, a stationery set with a monogrammed E in glitter along with various glittery stickers and pens. It’s a thoughtful and original gift from someone who seems to know me pretty well (Brittany). I can’t actually wait to add some of the glitter stickers to my bullet journal, which goes everywhere with me. And, of course, there’s another poem.

  Tomorrow I will be revealed

  No longer will I be concealed

  I’ll finally tell you just who I might be

  But only if you agree to a date with me

  I still one hundred and fifty-five percent believe it’s Brittany.

  Or, like, at least ninety-eight percent.

  On Friday, I bring in a Dunkin coffee with a splash of cream and some fresh maple donuts for Todd, and on my desk is another Starbucks cup along with a small box. I tear off the paper and find a silver necklace with a sparkly elephant charm.

  Nowhere on my paper did I write that elephants are my favorite animal, but they are. Brittany managed to combine glitter and elephants in one fell swoop, and I have to admit, I’m impressed. I tear open the card.

  I know you think I’m just a friend

  But tonight is where that friendship ends

  Where our friendship ends? Brittany has been taking this secret admirer thing a little too far. I get that she’s trying to make a joke, trying to make it look like she’s a he and he’s got a thing for me...but I can’t think of a single person in this office who I really believe would write poems like this for me, nor is there a single person aside from Todd I’d accept a date from. They’re either old, married, or not my type.

  Since it’s the day of our holiday party and the day before our week-long break begins, Warren always sends a memo at noon that we’re released from work early. It’s a little extra gift from him and it allows us time to get ready for the party.

  I’m waiting on pins and needles for that time to come, staring at the clock and fingering my new elephant necklace when an email from Belinda comes through two minutes ahead of Warren’s.

  Ellie,

  I’ll need three new ideas for the Masterview logo rebrand before you leave for break. The client wants more options.

  -Belinda

  My jaw drops open.

  Three new ideas two minutes before the big boss emails us to let us know we can leave early?

  Is she ducking kidding me?

  Chapter Four

  I don’t have time for the fancy treatment I wanted to do to my hair, but I manage to slip into the glittery red dress I chose for this event. I rush into the party only a few minutes late, my hair straight instead of curly where it falls to the middle of my back. I beeline for the bar and find Brittany, who stopped by my place to pick up the man box and my dress since I was stuck at work until nearly our regular quitt
ing time of five o’clock. The man box is actually a cute little wooden crate that says MAN BOX all over it, and inside there’s a nice selection of twelve different dark beers plus a random selection of downloads for six “manly” movies.

  “You look gorge,” she says to me, already sipping some red wine.

  I opt for white, placing my order before I turn to my friend, who went with a green dress that sets off her green eyes. “You do, too. And hey, thanks for stopping by my place.”

  “Of course,” she says. “He’s going to love the box. And Karen is going to love her hot chocolate assortment.” She giggles.

  “You can be honest with me now,” I say. I’ve pretended all week like I didn’t think it was her. “I know you really got me and not Karen.”

  Her brows dip, and she shakes her head. “No, babe. I have Karen. I literally bought her a hundred dollars’ worth of various hot chocolate mixes.”

  I tilt my head and stare at her in utter confusion. “But if it’s not you...” I trail off, not sure where I’m going with this.

  She winks at me like she has a secret.

  “Oh my God,” I say. “You know who it is! It’s Kevin, isn’t it? Tell me. Is it Kevin?” Kevin’s this super nice guy in accounting who’s three years younger than me and a little on the guy who loves video games, Star Wars, and Capri Suns too much side for me. In other words, he’s too young for me and not my type at all.

  But he stares at me in meetings the same way I stare at Todd.

  She shrugs. “Guess you’ll find out when you open your gift.”

  “You’re the absolute worst,” I mutter, and she just laughs.

  When I turn around, I literally bump into a broad, warm chest.

  “Oof,” I say stupidly, while the offending chest lets out the sexiest little grunt I think these ears have ever witnessed. I look up into Todd’s eyes, and I’m lost for a beat. He chuckles a little, and I’m torn between grateful I didn’t spill my wine on him and melting into a puddle of lust as he grips my bicep to steady me. I could really just sink right there into his chest and cuddle in for a while.