“Hey, thank you for getting me out of speaking,” Charlie says as we both wait for the ceremony to start.
“I could tell you wouldn’t be comfortable doing it, so I thought distracting Charlene and having her focus on Santa Claus’s appearance would be the best idea,” I say, my gaze sweeping over the crowd. There are so many people here tonight. The tree is ginormous, towering above us in the dead center of the common area, right next to a waterfall that commemorates the author John Steinbeck and the canning factories that used to be here. The very factories he wrote about in his book and made famous.
People don’t necessarily visit this particular location for the history, though. They come for the views of Monterey Bay and the ocean beyond, the shopping, the aquarium, the restaurants. It’s a beautiful spot, one I don’t get to enjoy nearly enough, considering how overrun it becomes with tourists pretty much all year.
Tonight, it feels good being here. It feels like we’re a part of a community, even with the tourists joining us. Having Charlie standing beside me makes it even better.
And that’s just the tiniest bit scary.
Fifteen
Charlie
“Charles.” The disappointment in Candice’s voice is clear when she opens the front door and sees me. “You’re not wearing a tie.”
I glance down at my tieless self before lifting my head to meet her scrutinizing gaze. “You really think I have to wear one tonight?”
“Yes. It’s a semi-formal affair. That means you must wear one.” She opens the door wider and I walk in, tilting my head back so I can take in the grandness that is her family’s foyer.
It’s been a week since Black Friday. Candice has only asked me to attend one event since the double tree lighting ceremonies, and it was an afternoon cocktail party sponsored by the local Rotary Club.
I might’ve grumbled about going to a party in the middle of the afternoon on a weekday, but I stopped complaining once I showed up and saw who was there: business owners from the entire area, who I made small talk with. Passed out a lot of business cards. There was one real estate broker in particular who seemed interested in getting together with Sullivan and having a holiday event next year that we could co-sponsor.
Exactly what my parents wanted me to be in search of.
One event in a week I suppose isn’t a big deal. In fact, I was grateful for the reprieve. Might’ve not-so-secretly hoped I wouldn’t have to do anything else for the rest of the year, though I knew I’d hear from her again.
A couple of days ago, Candice sent me a text, saying that the holiday season was about to get busy, and I’d need to prepare for all the parties we were going to attend.
It was the three words all the parties that freaked me out a little bit.
“Thank you for picking me up.” She shuts the door and turns to face me, and that’s when I really take in what she’s wearing.
Her entire body is covered, save for her legs. And she has really nice legs. She’s wearing a bright red sweater that clings to her chest almost lovingly. A giant, puffy white skirt that looks like something a ballerina would wear that hits her at right about the knees. Sexy red shoes that are open toe with red toenails to match. Her hair is long and perfectly straight, her makeup simple save for the bright red lips.
Lips I have the sudden urge to kiss.
Covered yet sexy. Her outfit isn’t revealing. Not at all. But damn, she looks good.
“You’re welcome,” I finally say when I find my tongue. “You look—”
“Is it too much?” she asks, interrupting me. She holds out her skirt, then lets it fall. “It’s the tulle skirt, huh? I look silly.”
I don’t know what tulle is. I’m guessing that’s the fabric? “You look like a ballerina snow bunny.”
Those are the first words I can think of, and they sound perfectly stupid.
“Is that a good thing?” She wrinkles her nose and then spins fast, the skirt flying up and giving me a fleeting glimpse of slender thighs. Maybe she’ll do that for me again. “I thought it was a cute look.”
“It’s definitely a cute look,” I say, my voice low. “Stop worrying about it. You’re beautiful.”
Her cheeks turn bright pink. “I wasn’t fishing for compliments, Charles.”
“I gave that one freely, Candice,” I toss back at her.
“Well.” She lifts her chin, trying for dignified. Hard to achieve when she looks like a cute little Christmas angel. “You look nice too. Despite the fact that you’re not wearing a tie.”
I’m wearing black dress pants and a dark gray button down shirt. I didn’t bother with the matching jacket—I wouldn’t wear it anyway. And I’m actually wearing black dress shoes versus boots, and they’re already pinching my feet.
“Hey, thanks,” I tell her. “It took a lot for me to wear all this.”
“I know.” Her gaze drops to my feet. “No boots. This is progress.”
“I figured you’d approve.”
She smiles, then turns toward the gigantic staircase looming behind her, cups her hand around her mouth and shouts, “Daddy!” I wince at the high decibel of her voice.
“What?” a male voice echoes down the stairway, and I assume that’s her father.
“Do you have a red tie Charles can borrow?”
“That’s not necess—” I start, but she sends me a look
I stop talking.
“What shade of red?” asks her father.
“Bright! Like my sweater!”
“What sweater?”
“The one I just modeled for you not even fifteen minutes ago.” She rolls her eyes. Lowers her voice. Like we’re sharing a secret. “He doesn’t pay attention to me half the time, I swear.”
“Hold on.” The irritation in the man’s voice is clear, and I hope that irritation isn’t directed at me. Not that I care what her father thinks about me. Once the holidays are over, I’ll most likely never see Candice again.
A sudden ache grips my chest and I rub at it absently.
Within two minutes a woman is hurrying down the stairs, clutching three different ties in her hand. She’s older. Very attractive. Dark blonde hair pulled into a low ponytail and bright blue eyes that light up when she sees both of us standing there.
“Candice, who’s your friend?” the woman asks with a knowing smile. I have a feeling she knows exactly who I am.
“This is Charlie.” Candice grabs hold of my hand and leads me to the woman, who is now standing on the foot of the stairs. “Charles Sullivan, this is my stepmother, Mitzi Gaines.”
“Pleased to meet you.” I release my hold on Candice’s hand so I can shake her stepmom’s.
“Lovely to meet you as well. Don’t the two of you look absolutely adorable?” She holds out a tie toward me. “This is the one that best matches your sweater, Candice.”
I take the tie and drape it around my neck. “You sure your husband doesn’t mind if I borrow his tie?”
“He won’t mind at all. And he sends his regrets that he couldn’t come down to meet you. He was just about to step into the shower when Candice started yelling.” Mitzi laughs when Candice mock glares. “We have a party to attend to tonight.”
“Same one as ours?” Candice asks, worry in her voice.
Yeah, I don’t want to go to the same party as her parents either.
“No, we’ll be at the McGoldricks’ tonight. They’re having a dinner party for a few close friends.” Mitzi smiles at both of us.
“My parents’ lawyers,” Candice whispers out of the side of her mouth.
“Great.” We don’t socialize with the lawyers we’ve used in the past, but us Sullivans don’t do much socializing at all, so I guess I can’t compare us. I start working on the tie, uncomfortable with the way both women are watching me.
“Candice, why don’t you help him?” Mitzi suggests with a gesture in my direction before she starts back up the stairs. “It was so nice to meet you, Charlie. You two have fun tonight!” And with that, sh
e disappears.
“Here, let me do it.” Candice positions herself so she’s directly in front of me, and even with those killer red heels on, her head still barely grazes my shoulder. She’s a short little thing. I could tuck her under my arm easily. Probably could sling her over my shoulder with ease too. I bet she doesn’t weigh much.
Frowning, I wonder where the hell that image came from. Me, tossing Candice over my shoulder. Running my hand over her curvy backside as I take her to my bedroom…
Blinking myself into focus, I concentrate on the here and now.
“I’ve got it.” Fumbling, I try to tie my tie just like my father showed me when I was a kid, tugging and pulling and kind of making a mess of it, especially since I don’t have a mirror nearby.
“No, you really don’t.” Candice bats my hands away and takes over the task, her gaze fixed on my neck, her teeth sinking into her plump, ruby red lower lip. She is a study in concentration as she finishes the job, her fingers brushing across my chest. She’s standing so close I can smell her sweet berry scent, sense her radiating warmth, note the way she gets two little wrinkles in between her eyebrows when she concentrates. “There you go.”
She gives one final tug, positioning the tie into place before she pats my chest, a faint smile curving her perfect lips.
“Where’d you learn that particular skill?” If she says she had a dependent boyfriend who couldn’t groom himself, I’ll laugh.
I might also be a little bit jealous. Not that I’d ever, ever admit that.
“When you grow up in a house with your father and two big brothers, you learn a few things,” she answers.
Makes sense. “Your stepmom seems nice.”
“She is.” Candice reaches up once more, brushing at the front of my shirt. “You had a piece of lint on you.”
Real or imaginary? Is she as attuned to me as I am to her in this moment? Was that just an excuse to touch me?
“Thanks.” I hesitate, wondering if I can ask. Deciding I should go ahead and ask. “What about your mom?”
Her gaze jerks up to mine, those big, luminous brown eyes staring at me. “What about her?”
“Where is she?”
“Oh. She, um, she died a long time ago. When I was really little. Breast cancer.” She smiles, though it’s a little too forced, a tad too bright. “But I’m okay. Don’t think you have to apologize for asking.”
“I had no idea.” She’s trying to play it off as no big deal, but I can see it affects her. And of course it would. My mother had a minor cancer scare and when she told me about it, I almost freaked out.
And it was just a scare. I can’t imagine what I would do if my mother actually had cancer.
“How would you? I never told you about her.” She shrugs. “It really is okay, though. I promise.”
I decide to change the subject, since clearly she doesn’t want to talk about her dead mother. “Are you ready to go?”
“Are you driving or am I following you?” She’s frowning.
“I’ll drive,” I suggest.
Her frown deepens. “Your truck?”
“Well. Yeah.”
“How about you drive my car?” She lifts her brows, her expression clearly saying that is the best idea ever! Even though I don’t really agree.
“What’s wrong with my truck?” Is she embarrassed to be seen it? I know it’s not brand spanking new, but it’s definitely not old. And yeah, it probably has a little bit of mud on it from the farm’s dirt parking lot and the fact that it’s rained the last few days. I should’ve got a car wash before I headed over here, but I was running late and I wasn’t thinking.
“Absolutely nothing is wrong with your truck. It’s very nice.” She’s talking to me like I’m a second grader and she’s hoping I comprehend what she’s saying. “But I can’t climb into that monster wearing these.”
She lifts up her red-heeled foot in demonstration.
“I could give you a boost.” I don’t mind having to grab Candice by her slender waist and basically toss her into my truck. It might be kind of nice.
“And then when we get to the party and I hop out of your truck, my skirt might fly up and reveal the color of my underwear.” She crosses her arms and shakes her head. “No, Charles. Please just drive my car.”
Now it’s my turn to frown. “Your skirt will fly up that high?”
“It’s very…buoyant. Like the skirts I wore in dance class when I was a little girl.” She starts doing this hop-kick thing and her skirt starts moving. Bouncing. “It’s kind of dangerous.”
“Wouldn’t want anyone to see your undies,” I tease her as walks over to a slender table that’s against the wall and grabs her sparkly silver purse.
“Well, they might see actual skin too, if you know what I mean.” Her cheeks go red and she grabs a black coat off the hook that’s next to the slender table and turns, handing it to me. “Will you help me slip this on, please?”
I can’t stop thinking of her naked butt, thanks to what she said. I’d like to see it. I bet it’s small and round and firm. I bet I could slap it and the skin would bounce back. Isn’t there a rap song about that?
We exit the grand house her parents own, my gaze glued to her skirt, hypnotized by the sway of the fabric when she walks. I can’t stop thinking about what her ass might look like, and what color her panties could be. I wish she would’ve never said that.
But then again, I’m really glad she did.
Sixteen
Candice
The party is in full swing by the time Charlie and I arrive. It’s at the Lodge at Pebble Beach, which is one of the most breathtaking locations I’ve ever seen. And I don’t say that just because I live here. I’ve traveled a lot. All over the world. And I’ve seen a lot of places.
And the place where I live is still the most beautiful of them all.
Thankfully, Charlie agreed to drive my Mercedes to the party. At first, I think he was upset by my suggestion. Like he took it as if I might’ve been embarrassed for us to pull up in his truck? But that wasn’t it at all. I really was worried about my skirt being too bouncy and making a fool of myself while exiting the truck. My heels are super high too.
It could’ve been a disaster. Sometimes, I am a total disaster no matter how hard I try. Tonight I avoided it completely by getting Charlie to drive my car.
He enjoyed driving it too. Went a little fast while taking those tight curves on the way to Pebble Beach, and I squealed like a little girl, which only made him laugh. When you get him out of work mode, he’s a lot less grumpy, I’ve noticed. It’s pleasant.
Reminds me why I have this silly yet raging crush on him.
This is why I casually mentioned my underwear to him. I saw the interest spark in his gorgeous green gaze. Most of the time he doesn’t look at me or treat me like I’m a woman he could be interested in. He’ll say the occasional thing that could be taken as flirtatious, but I’m so off my game, I have a hard time distinguishing whether it’s actual flirting or not.
There was that time he acted like he was about to kiss me, though. In this very car, as a matter of fact. The evening of our first tree lighting. I swear he was leaning in, his gaze locked on my lips…
“I’ve never been here before,” Charlie says as he pulls into the hotel’s entrance.
“Really? And you’ve grown up here your entire life, right?” I ask.
“Exactly, so I have no reason to come here, you know?” He shrugs, maneuvering the car around the roundabout, the giant cypress tree in the center aglow with what looks like about a thousand little white lights strung around its many branches. “Why would I come to a hotel when I already live here?”
I’ve been to more than a few parties at this hotel. Weddings. My father golfs here on occasion. I’ve eaten at the restaurants here, wandered through the shops. It’s not too far from where I live, which makes it a convenient place for my family to go, especially when we were growing up.
“It’s a beautiful plac
e,” I say as he comes to a stop a few feet down from the entrance. There’s a row of cars waiting, parking attendants greeting them and escorting people out of their vehicles as quickly as possible.
“Fancy,” Charlie says as he leans forward, taking in all the lights. “This place is decorated up.”
“It’s this way every Christmas season,” I tell him, admiring the lights that wind around the entrance’s tall columns. White lights line pretty much the entire building. “When I was little I loved coming here.”
“We’ve added more lights to the tree farm,” he says, his voice casual.
“You have?” I turn to look at him, excited by his revelation. “Are you going to try to have a few evening events this year?”
“Maybe. I don’t know if we’ll have the time. It’s already the beginning of December, so we’ll be cutting it close,” he says.
“It would be a great way to gain more exposure,” I say. “And you could promote the store, too.”
“That’s exactly what Victoria said.” His lips curl in the faintest smile. “I bet you two would like each other.”
Huh. I bet we would too. So why doesn’t he introduce me to his sister?
We inch our way closer to the entrance, until finally the parking attendants are opening our doors, helping us out. Charlie slips one of them some money and then he’s escorting me into the hotel, the majestic Christmas tree standing in the center of the lobby looming in front of us as we enter.
“They really do Christmas in style, don’t they?” he murmurs as we pass by the tree. It’s giant, at least twelve feet, maybe taller, and there are rich red ribbons and gold ornaments covering almost every square inch of it. The lights twinkle and glow, there’s Christmas carols playing overhead and the fresh scent of pine greets me as we walk past.
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