by Andi James
The Twelve Dates of Christmas
Andi James
Lila Wilde
The Twelve Dates of Christmas by Andi James and Lila Wilde
Copyright © 2019 Andi James and Lila Wilde
All rights reserved
Cover design by Cate Ashwood
Editing by Kiki Clark
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the authors, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All trademarks and copyrights are the property of their respective owners. This book contains material intended for mature readers.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
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Chapter 1
“Palmer!”
Aiden looked up from his laptop — where he was absolutely not playing a farming game — and tried to disguise his sigh. He had a ten minute window to breathe before his next meeting, and he just wanted to harvest his corn before it wilted. Of course, the senior partner took that exact moment to come into his office.
“Mr. Meriwether,” he acknowledged with a nod, furtively minimizing his game and trying to determine if he should be concerned about the visit.
“I heard you closed the Eagleton case.”
Aiden felt himself physically relax. “Yes, sir.”
“And you didn't have to worry about their threat of a preliminary injunction?”
“No.” Aiden shook his head. “We were able to get them to settle before it came to that.”
Meriwether nodded. “Well, good work.”
He turned to leave, and Aiden wondered if he had time to get back to his game. His tomato crops weren’t looking too great.
When he reached the door, Meriwether turned around. “Oh, Palmer, did your secretary let you know about the location of the holiday party for this year?”
Aiden cringed. If Chelsea heard Meriwether call her his secretary, no one would ever hear the end of it. “Yes, she did.”
Aiden knew he was currently in Meriwether's good graces since his closing of the Eagleton case had just made his firm a small fortune, so he decided to take advantage of that. “Actually, sir, I don't think I'll be able to attend the holiday party this year.”
“What?” Meriwether stared at him. “Nonsense.”
“It's just that I have this huge case I'm working on, and these family priorities…” And there is someone I really don't want to spend an evening with.
Meriwether shook his head. “No. You will be there.” He gave Aiden an assessing glance. “You'll be there.”
With that, he turned and quickly left the room.
Aiden slumped down into his chair and groaned, and Chelsea flounced back into the office.
“Did I just see Meriwether leave?” She pushed a lock of her curly auburn hair behind her ear and moved to sit behind her desk on the far side of the room.
Aiden nodded miserably.
“What did he want?”
“Oh, just to remind me that my presence is required at the holiday party and that I should prepare for the worst night of my life.”
Chelsea rolled her eyes. “Okay, whatever you say. I pulled up those notes from that other case, and I did the research you asked for. It turns out…”
Aiden knew he should focus on what Chelsea was saying, but his brain had other plans. The senior partners looked down on Chelsea because she’d started with Aiden as a personal assistant, but that had been several years ago, when she had been between jobs and Aiden had taken the biggest risk of his life by offering his best friend a temporary position at his firm. He hadn’t been sure it was the smartest move, but she had been out of work for several months, and it was either get her a job or let her move in with him.
Chelsea had no experience, with personal assisting or with law, but her innate ability to control situations and think on her feet made her the best assistant Aiden had ever had. Now years later, Chelsea was the most competent paralegal in the firm, and because she was so good at it, she still managed his calendar as well. Aiden was grateful to call her his partner and his friend.
“And then you have that appointment with the alien overlord at four thirty.”
Aiden's brain seemed to jolt him back into the present. “I'm sorry, what was that?”
She rolled her eyes again. Chelsea was very good at rolling her eyes at Aiden. “Pay attention, or I'm going schedule that lunch with Justin — the one he's been trying to get on the books for months.”
“You wouldn't,” Aiden said, eyes wide.
“Try me.”
He was fairly certain Chelsea would not use her powers for that kind of evil, even if pushed to her limits, but he wasn't sure he should take the risk. “Sorry, I'm paying attention.”
“Good.” She started again, just as Aiden heard a familiar voice outside his office. Operating on pure instinct and adrenaline, his brain went into fight or flight mode, and he chose flight. He always did.
The voice got louder, and Aiden dove into the large space under his desk. There was a quick knock at the open door.
“Hey, Chelsea,” came the voice Aiden still heard in his dreams.
“Justin,” she said coolly. “How may I help you?”
“I could've sworn I just heard Aiden's voice.” Justin sounded confused.
“Hmm,” Chelsea pondered. “Weird, since he's not here. Maybe you should get your hearing checked,” she suggested sweetly. “I heard that’s usually the first thing to go with men your age.”
Justin chuckled. “I'm thirty-six. Do you expect him back soon? I was hoping we could finally get lunch.”
Aiden heard Chelsea clicking her mouse. “Let me see. I actually think he does have an opening today.”
Aiden recoiled and bumped his head on the underside of the desk.
“Did you hear that?”
Chelsea’s voice was sickly sweet. “Hear what?”
After a long pause, Justin muttered, “Never mind.” His voice brightened. “So, he has time for lunch today?”
Aiden felt the space closing in on him.
“Sorry, no. That opening was for this date next year.”
“Oh.”
Aiden could hear the sadness in Justin’s voice, and he felt a pull in his chest. He took a deep breath and strengthened his resolve to not care. Justin had broken his heart enough for one lifetime.
“Did you want me to pencil you in?”
“Um, no.” After a long pause, Aiden heard, “Thanks anyway, Chelsea,” then the shuffle of overpriced shoes on overpriced carpet.
A long moment later, Chelsea's auburn curls appeared in Aiden's line of sight. “The coast is clear,” she said, smirking.
With a grumbled word of thanks, Aiden climbed out of his hiding place, brushed lint off his pants, and leaned against the desk.
“I don't know why you’re still hiding from him. He’s been here for two months.”
“I maintain it was an act of aggressi
on for him to break up with me and then get a job at the firm I've been working for since law school.”
“That sounds like a declaration of war if I ever heard one,” Chelsea said as she sat in Aiden’s chair. “I don't know why you can't just talk to him.”
“And say what? Why did you break my heart into a million pieces?” Aiden shook his head. “It's not worth opening that wound.”
“Aiden, that wound is already open. You've been peeling back the Band-Aid every single day. You need to leave it alone so it has time to heal.”
“How am I supposed to do that when I see his stupid beautiful face every single day?”
Chelsea spun back and forth. “Why do you have the good chair?”
Aiden groaned. “Chels, what am I supposed to do?”
She bit her bottom lip. “I actually heard something today that's not gonna make this any better.”
“What?”
“I think Justin is seeing someone,” she said slowly.
Because of course he is.
“I cannot go to the stupid holiday party alone and watch my ex walk around with my replacement hanging off his arm.”
“So why don't you bring someone too? Show him that you're not still pining over him.”
Aiden groaned. “My last several dates have all been disasters.”
“Maybe that's because you just haven't met the right guy. The one.”
After three years together, Aiden had been sure Justin was the only one for him. And now he had to look for someone else? How many soulmates would he be lucky enough to find?
“I know you said the last guy had no sense of humor… but maybe you were too hard on him?”
“Chelsea, he didn't even think Tina Fey was funny.”
“What? No. You're right, that guy was obviously the worst.” She smiled wistfully. “But he was so hot.”
“There's more to a guy than being hot.”
“Like what?”
Aiden sighed. “I don't know, Chels.”
“Tell me.” She clasped her hands together excitedly. “Tell me about your perfect mate. He obviously has to be funny and insanely hot.”
Aiden rolled his eyes.
“Good job?”
Aiden knew this would be over much sooner if he just went along with her interrogation. He shrugged. “I mean, someone who loves his job maybe? Someone who is passionate about what he does.” Aiden ran his hand through his hair. “That sounds so dumb. I don't even know.”
“No… That's good. What else? Keep going.”
At that moment, the phone rang on his desk. He looked at his watch. “Shit. I’m late.”
“No!” Chelsea pouted. “We were so close to discovering your perfect match.”
As he grabbed his laptop and regretted his lack of farming time, Aiden tried to imagine what his perfect match would look like, but all he saw was Justin.
Chapter 2
Aiden glanced at his watch as he opened the door to the bar. It was fifteen minutes before seven, which would have to be fine. He hoped the prospective client he was meeting hadn't beaten him there. Sidewalk’s End, the requested meeting location, wasn't far from Aiden's house, and he was surprised he’d never noticed it before. It was a warm, inviting space, currently decked out for the holidays. Green garland and silver bows adorned the wooden pillars throughout the room, and the randomly placed empty liquor bottles filled with white lights gave the place a fun, wintery feeling.
Aiden scanned the space, but he didn't see anyone resembling Jonathan Criswell, if the photo Chelsea had attached to his calendar appointment was to be trusted. Aiden allowed himself a sigh of relief. It was important to him that he make a good first impression with all potential clients, and getting to the bar after Mr. Criswell would have been… unimpressive. Aiden walked farther into the room.
Aiden lived in what was starting to be considered an up-and-coming neighborhood, now home to lots of raw food bars, yoga studios, and mustache grooming salons. He had even heard rumors that a Whole Foods was moving in. He had to admit though, he missed the old neighborhood. He used to know all of the families who lived on his street and was on a first-name basis with the woman who ran the corner store. Now, he was surrounded by hipsters.
He hadn't seen a menu yet but was prepared for a listing of artisanal craft beers and an elderberry flower gin and tonic.
It appeared as though all the high-top tables were occupied, so Aiden crossed the space in a few long strides before he reached the bar. There were several customers already there, elbows against the polished mahogany, and Aiden scanned the faces but didn't see anyone who looked like the man he was supposed to be meeting. The bar was busy but not overwhelmingly so, and Aiden settled himself into one of the four open seats.
Aiden was dying to remove his suit jacket but didn't, silently cursing his dedication to his job. Mr. Criswell looked to be younger than many of his clients, and the photo had shown him in casual attire, but some people were sticklers for professionalism at all times from their representation. It was fair, even though Aiden’s jacket was starting to make him feel restricted and warm.
Chelsea hadn't told him much about the meeting; it had been a bit of a last-minute arrangement. She’d added it to his calendar that very afternoon, several hours after the desk hiding incident. Aiden had wanted to ask her about the nature of the meeting since it wasn’t like her to omit that information from his calendar appointment without talking to him about it first, but she was nowhere to be found. That wasn’t uncommon. Chelsea’s reputation for being the best in the firm often had other paralegals coming to her to ask for help or advice. Aiden had gone into a meeting for the rest of the afternoon, and by the time it had wrapped up, Chelsea had left for the day.
Aiden wasn’t worried. He’d been to enough of these new client meetings to do them in his sleep. It wasn’t often they met anywhere aside from his office, but sometimes clients didn’t want to be seen walking into a law firm. Aiden understood that and was thankful the place he was to be meeting Mr. Criswell was so close to his home. He absentmindedly placed his fingers on the knot of his tie before reminding himself to maintain his professional appearance.
Aiden sighed and decided to get a drink. He’d make himself more comfortable one way or another. He looked down the bar, attempting to catch the attention of one of the bartenders. He briefly made eye contact and was rewarded with a smile from the man who headed toward him. He was wearing a white collared shirt just like every other staff member in the bar, but something about the way thin lines of ink peeked out from under his rolled-up shirtsleeves intrigued Aiden. Aiden thought he was tall, though it was hard to tell since he was perched on a barstool himself, and his jet black hair was stylish, cut shorter on the sides and falling longer on the top.
“Hey,” he said, flashing Aiden a toothy smile. “What can I get you?”
Aiden wrestled with himself for a moment, trying to decide between what he should probably get and what he actually wanted. “I'll take a draft beer. An IPA if you have one.”
The bartender grinned. “Are you sure? You look like you struggled with that decision.”
Aiden chuckled. “Yeah, I was debating between beer and a mixed drink. I love Long Island iced teas, but one or two of those can knock me on my ass, and I should probably keep my wits about me.”
The bartender chuckled. “Fair enough.” He moved three steps to his left and grabbed a pint glass.
Aiden watched him expertly pull the draft, leaving almost no head. The bartender grabbed the coaster and laid it on the bar in front of Aiden before placing the pint on top.
“You're really good at that,” Aiden said.
The bartender raised a brow.
Aiden gestured to the tap. “I spent a summer as a bartender at the shore and never really could figure out the strategy to pulling a perfect pint.”
The bartender laughed. “It takes many years to perfect this particular craft. It's probably best left to the professionals.”
A
iden could tell he was being teased by the bartender’s twinkling eyes and sweet smirk.
“Can I get you a menu?”
Aiden shook his head. “No, thanks. I’m meeting someone.”
The bartender laughed. “Nothing makes for a good date like garlic breath.” He lowered his voice. “Even though we do have the best garlic cheese fries in the city.”
Aiden chuckled. “Not a date, a business meeting… But either way, you're right. Garlic breath won't get me a new client or a boyfriend.”
The bartender laughed again. “Or a vampire.” He patted the bar twice. “Well, if you need anything else let me know. I'm Liam.”
“Aiden.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Aiden.” Liam turned to take the order of another customer several feet away.
Aiden felt almost wistful that he had a meeting as his stomach grumbled. Garlic cheese fries sounded pretty amazing right then. He cast another look down the bar at Liam, appreciating his easy smile. Of course, Liam worked for tips. If he wasn't friendly, he couldn't pay for his tattoo habit.
Aiden glanced down at his phone, checking the time, only mildly annoyed that his potential client was running late. Aiden took a few long pulls of his beer, hoping the liquid would do something to quell the angry noises coming from his empty stomach. He had a few inches of beer left in his glass when Liam approached him for the second time.
“Can I get you another?”
Aiden pursed his lips, not sure how many beers he should really imbibe before a business meeting, especially since he hadn’t eaten since ten o'clock that morning, but the rumbling in his stomach had somewhat subsided. “Sure, I'll take one more.”
Liam expertly pulled another beer, and Aiden polished off the last few sips in his glass.