Holidate

by Monica Murphy

  “I’ll be a good patient,” he continues.

  And I don’t even have to answer. He just knows I want to take care of him.

  “There’s a first aid kid in the cabinet over there.” He points, eyes still shut, and I glance over my shoulder at the piece of furniture he’s indicating. “On the left side, I think.”

  I go to the cabinet and open the double doors, spotting the white box with the red cross on the top. I grab it and bring it over to the desk, popping it open and digging through the various things inside. There’s an antibacterial wipe, so I tear that open, ready to clean his wound. I move closer to him, so close my boobs are practically in his face as I stand over him, but his eyes are closed and he can’t see me like this.

  That’s unfortunate.

  “It might sting,” I warn him, my hand hovering over his cheek.

  “Just go for it.”

  I do as he says, and he hisses upon first contact. I dab at the scratch, relieved to see it’s not as bad as I thought it might be. I flip the wipe over and clean the cut on the bridge of his nose. He remains still, breathing evenly, eyes remaining shut, showing off those thick, dark eyelashes of his.

  Ducking down a little, I examine the bigger scratch closely, wondering if I should dab on some Neosporin that I found in the kit. “Can I put a Band-Aid on it?”

  “Absolutely not.” He cracks open his eyes, blinking at me when he realizes I’m so close. I notice that his eyes aren’t pure green after all. There’s flecks of gold in there. “I’ll look like an idiot.”

  “I thought maybe you’d want to hide the scratches.”

  “And miss my opportunity to look like a badass? No way.”

  I smile and toss the used wipe into the trashcan beneath his desk before I straighten up. “How about some Neosporin then?”

  “Let me get out of these clothes first.” He sighs again, the sound bone deep. “Do I have time for a nap?”

  “Nope.” I leave the Neosporin out and snap the lid of the first aid kit shut. “And you have clothes here?”

  “Yeah. I always keep a few things around, just in case. During the season, I tend to sleep here a lot.”

  “Really?” I glance around, but there’s no bed in sight. Only a couch. “Where? The couch?” It doesn’t look long enough to fit him.

  “It turns into a pullout bed. It sucks, but I’m used to it.” Rising to his feet, he stretches, the hem of the long sleeve T-shirt he’s wearing rising up, revealing a sliver of bare, firm stomach.

  Turning away, I bite my lip, checking my phone to see what time it is. “We have twelve minutes before we have to leave, so I suggest you start changing now,” I tell him, turning back around to find he’s already taking his shirt off.

  Oh. Oh wow. I blink, my mouth drops open, and I’m afraid I might start drooling.

  Charlie Sullivan is ripped. Not like a muscle on muscle, body builder type, but he’s definitely got muscles. Lean arms and broad shoulders and chest. Defined pecs and a flat stomach, though it’s not a washboard.

  Can I admit I’m kind of glad he’s not sporting a six-pack? That would intimidate me. I’m weird like that.

  He tosses the T-shirt on the couch as he walks past me, making his way toward a low set of drawers that’s close to the cabinet where I got the first aid kit. He bends over and opens one of the drawers, pulling out a black sweater and a pair of jeans. Meaning he’s going to take off the dirty jeans he’s currently wearing.

  I need to get out of here.

  “I’ll just…go wait out in the store while you get changed,” I tell him, walking backward to the door, hoping I don’t trip over my own feet. “Give you some privacy.”

  “Stay where you are,” he says, his deep voice like a command, and my body follows it as if I have no control over myself. “Just give me a couple of minutes.”

  “I’m not going to watch you change your clothes, Charles.” My voice is the tiniest bit shaky and I hope he doesn’t notice.

  “That’s too bad, Candice, considering I want to put on a show for you.” He waggles his eyebrows and I turn on a huff, crossing my arms and keeping my back to him.

  “Hurry up then,” I tell him, bending my head down.

  It probably lasts all of three minutes, but those minutes are excruciating. I can hear the sound of his boots being kicked off, buttons being undone and clothes hitting the floor. The sliding noise of legs being slipped into denim, the whirr of a zipper.

  My imagination is going into overdrive as I try to picture what he might look like in just his underwear. Or maybe wearing nothing at all…

  “Okay, Miss Modest, you can turn around. I won’t offend your gentle eyes.”

  The words are sarcastic but the tone is amused, so I know he’s not cranky as per usual. Slowly I turn to find him sitting in the chair behind his desk once more, slipping on a different pair of boots, these ones much more cleaner. Almost dressy.

  “You look good,” I tell him, which is an understatement.

  “Thanks. So do you.”

  The offhand compliment fills me with giddiness. I worked hard on this outfit and I’m glad he noticed.

  He ties one boot and then props the other foot on his desk. “Why don’t you go start your car? I’ll be out in a minute.”

  “Will you really?” I hate that I’m doubting him, but he’s tried to ditch me before. Or he’s at least talked about ditching me.

  “Yeah, I just need to use the bathroom first. Clean up a little more.”

  I point at him. “You have five minutes.”

  He salutes me. “Yes, ma’am.”

  I can’t stop smiling the entire walk back to my car.

  Fourteen

  We made it through the first tree lighting in record time. As promised, I sped like a demon to the downtown Monterey one, parking somewhere in the middle of both locations, and now that Charlie has completed his duties at the first one, we’re trying to figure out how to get to the second ceremony without using my car.

  “We could walk,” Charlie suggests.

  I wave a hand at my pointy-heeled boots. They are adorable, but not practical. At all. “I’ll be crying within minutes.”

  His gaze snags on my feet. “Why would you wear them?”

  “They’re cute.” I kick my foot out and turn it this way and that. “I love them.”

  “They do make your legs look long,” he says appreciatively, his gaze locked on my lower extremities.

  Hmm. “Was that a compliment?”

  “Possibly.” He shrugs.

  Deciding I won’t give him too much grief, I change the subject and tap my finger against my lips. “Isn’t there a free shuttle that hits all the tourist spots in Monterey?”

  “There is.” This comes from an older gentleman who’s standing nearby. Seems he was listening to our conversation. “Picks up right over there.”

  He inclines his head across the street, where there’s a city bus stop.

  “Thank you,” I tell him gratefully before I turn to Charlie. “Let’s go.”

  We use the crosswalk and make our way across the street, the boots already starting to pinch my feet. I’m a glutton for punishment when it comes to my fashion choices too. If it’s cute and I love it and I look good in it, I will wear it no matter what.

  I’m thinking tonight that wasn’t such a good idea.

  I collapse on the bench, wishing I could rub my feet, but I’d have to take the boots off, and if I do that, they’re never going back on.

  Charlie approaches the bench slowly, shaking his head. “You’re reminding me of my sister right now.”

  I frown. This can’t be good. I don’t want him to look at me and think of his sister. I want him to look at me and think, I really want to kiss her. Or, I wonder what she looks like naked.

  “Why?” I ask, checking my phone for the time yet again. If that bus doesn’t show up soon, we are so screwed.

  “She’s always wearing shoes that hurt her feet.” He settles on the bench beside
me, so close I can feel his body heat radiating toward me. “I don’t know why you all insist on wearing heels.”

  “Like you said, they make my legs look long, and I don’t have long legs whatsoever.” I shoot my leg out yet again, relief flooding me when I’m not putting pressure on my foot. “Sometimes we must suffer for fashion.”

  “I think it’s ridiculous.”

  “Sometimes I think you’re ridiculous.” I nudge his shoulder with my own and he glances down at me. “You pulled it off at that ceremony, though.”

  We showed up with barely five minutes to spare. They were already speaking, there was Santa standing next to the committee chairperson of the event, and like the last lighting we went to, the host said some kind words about the Sullivan Tree Farm, they gave a shout out to Charlie, they lit the tree, everyone clapped and cheered, and then we were out of there.

  “At the one we’re going to now, they mentioned they want me to speak.” He sends me a look, one I can’t read. “I’m not good at that.”

  “Good at what?”

  “Public speaking.”

  “Oh, you can do it. Just use your words.” I bat my eyelashes at him.

  He shakes his head. “My words aren’t as nice as yours. I’m afraid I’ll get up there and say something like, ‘Support Sullivan Tree Farm, buy local. Now let’s light this fucker up!’” He smiles, but I see the worry in his eyes. He’s afraid he’ll mess this up.

  “You’ll be fine. Just—say something sappy about the family business. People eat that kind of thing up.”

  “I’ll try.” He doesn’t sound very confident, and I feel bad for him.

  “Do people buy their live Christmas trees from other locations?” I wonder at his buy local statement.

  “All the time. Especially in this area, where a lot of people have plenty of money to spend. There are a few specialty websites who’ll deliver your fresh balsam tree to your front door for free.”

  “How much is the actual tree, though?”

  “Hundreds of dollars. Sometimes even thousands. I’ve heard some claim it’s worth it. They don’t want to deal with the hassle of going out to our farm or one of our tree lots,” he explains. “I’ve considered offering trees for sale on our website.”

  “You totally should. If you can’t beat the online competition, then at least join them.”

  “We might. I don’t know. It’s just one more thing to add to my to-do list that’s already too long.” He shakes his head. “I keep thinking I need an assistant to keep me straight, but I don’t want to bother with the interview process.”

  I’m a very organized person. I could probably help him. But do I want to work with Charlie day in and day out? No. No amount of money he’d pay me would be worth it. Besides, I don’t need it.

  Plus, he probably wouldn’t think it was a good idea. He doesn’t have a lot of faith in me. I’m trying my best to change his opinion about me, but I don’t know if it’s working.

  A bus suddenly appears in the near distance—not the regular city route bus either. It looks like a brown-and-green trolley, and it’s actually really cute.

  And also really crowded with people.

  It pulls up to the curb with a hiss from the air brakes, and the doors squeak open. A bunch of people exit thank goodness—going to the event we just left, I assume—and I follow Charlie onto the bus, settling onto the empty seat right next to him.

  “At least we get to sit for a little while longer,” I say, thankful for the reprieve. Maybe I should dump these boots and never wear them again.

  But they’re so cute. They cost a lot of money…

  I’m keeping them.

  “Hopefully it won’t take too long to get there,” he says, for once worried about the time.

  “It shouldn’t. We’re not too far.” Though traffic is heavy tonight, with it being Friday night, Black Friday specifically, the various Christmas events kicking off, plus the holiday shopping season is in full swing.

  So yeah. Maybe it will take a little longer than usual.

  “Plus, the bus drops off right at the spot where the ceremony is,” I tell him, noticing how inviting his shoulder looks. As in, I want to lean my head on that wide perch and close my eyes for a little bit. Breathe in his intoxicating pine scent. Absorb his warmth and strength. Listen to him talk, his deep voice causing a rumble in his chest…

  “Are these really leather?”

  I startle when I realize his hand is resting on my knee. And he’s talking about my leggings.

  Did I mention that I’m wearing leather leggings? I told you I was going to pull out all the stops for tonight’s outfit. That includes leggings that fit me like a glove and cost eight hundred dollars.

  Yes. Eight hundred dollars.

  That’s way too much money, right?

  Having Charlie rest that big hand of his on my knee makes them worth the price alone. He’s still touching me. I swear his fingers might’ve even…caressed me? Hmm.

  “Yes, they are.” There’s the slightest hitch in my voice and I clear my throat, disappointment flooding me when he removes his hand.

  “You’re wearing all black tonight, Candice. You don’t look as festive as usual,” he points out.

  That he notices my festive outfits makes me happy. It means he’s paying attention. I’m wearing a black turtleneck with the leather pants, plus the bright red coat I only bring out this time of year.

  “Hey, this is red.” I point at my coat. “Plus, my earrings are green.” I tuck my hair behind my ear to reveal the giant fake emerald stone in my lobe. They’re Kate Spade and they’re adorable. “And my lips are red to match my coat.” Cherry Lipstick by MAC, as a matter of fact.

  Look at me brand name dropping in my thoughts.

  His gaze goes from my revealed ear to my lips, and lingers there. “True,” he murmurs, his gaze heated.

  “I felt like doing something different,” I say with a shrug. Not like I can be honest with him and say, I’m just trying to impress you. Did it work?

  The bus ride only takes a few minutes, and we don’t really talk. Which means all that tension that typically brews between us is even thicker than usual, so that by the time we’re climbing off the trolley, all I can think about is when he might put his hands on me again.

  Lucky me, it’s within seconds of us arriving. He rests his hand at the small of my back, guiding me through the crowd. There are so many people here tonight, more than there were at the other lighting, and I glance over my shoulder at him, sending him a look.

  He bends down, his head close to mine as he shouts into my ear, “Are you okay?”

  Nodding, I turn a little, my mouth practically grazing his cheek as I yell in answer, “I’m fine. Let’s find the people in charge of this.”

  The ceremony is held in the common area of Cannery Row, and it is currently full to the brim with all sorts of people. Tourists, local families, giant clusters of teenagers, they’re all here. There’s a group of carolers in old-fashioned clothing singing “Silent Night”. A couple of booths are set up, and the one with the longest line is selling kettle corn. The other booth is giving away free cups of hot chocolate, and it also has a long line.

  I spot Charlene, the woman who’s in charge of this year’s event, and lift my hand in a wave when we make eye contact. She smiles, waving me over, and without thought I grab Charlie’s hand and pull him along with me toward the spot where she’s standing with a small group of people who look very official.

  “Candice, it’s so good to see you.” Charlene wraps me up in a hug, then turns her attention to Charlie. “Is this your boyfriend?”

  Ha! My cheeks go so hot, they feel like they’ve caught on fire. I release my hold on Charlie’s hand, shaking my head. “No, no, no. This is Charles Sullivan, from Sullivan Family Tree Farm?”

  “Oh, Mr. Sullivan! It’s such a joy to finally meet you.” Charlene shakes his hand enthusiastically, her smile huge. She’s a very nice woman who’s been involved with various
local charities for years. Her husband’s name is also Charles, and she told me people used to always tease them, since their names were so close.

  Mine and Charlie’s names are sort of close.

  “Nice to meet you too,” Charlie says, sending me a weird look. Like maybe he didn’t expect such enthusiasm? But that’s how Charlene is with everyone.

  “I was hoping you wouldn’t mind speaking tonight, even for a few minutes,” Charlene continues once she’s released her grip on Charlie’s hand. “I hope you’re not afraid of public speaking?”

  He sends me another look, this one full of panic.

  “Don’t you think the kids would rather focus on Santa? Santa does make an appearance at this lighting, correct?” I smile at her.

  Charlene frowns. “Why yes. Yes, he does. Of course he does. He’s the main attraction after the tree.”

  “Then let’s go ahead with you issuing a thank you to Sullivan for the tree, and leave it at that?” I glance over at Charlie, who’s now got pure adoration in his gaze. He owes me one. “What do you think, Charles?”

  “I think that sounds like a great idea.” He nods.

  “Perfect.” I smile at Charlene, trying to lay it on thick. “I’m sure the children will be beyond excited to see Santa Claus here tonight.”

  “You’re so right. Have you been to this ceremony before?” When I shake my head, she continues, “You’re in for a real treat then. He’ll make his appearance up there.” She turns and points toward a balcony that’s right off a store. “And the children are so enthusiastic when they see him. They desperately want to speak to him or sit on his lap, but we don’t do that here. Gives Santa that proper air of mystery. Plus, we have his elves giving away candy to the kids too, so at least they get a little treat.”

  “That sounds fun!” I say brightly.

  Charlie is now standing directly behind Charlene, and he rolls his eyes at my excitement, the jerk.

  “We think it is,” Charlene agrees before checking her watch. Her smile fades. “Oh dear. We’re about to start soon. Everybody, please get into place!”

  I didn’t realize she was wearing a headset, but she is, and that’s what she’s using to direct everyone for tonight’s ceremony. Charlie and I both take a giant step back as Charlene starts buzzing around, commanding everyone to do this or that. I feel her pain, I’ve been in her position many times, and I’m thankful this isn’t my obligation tonight.