Dear Santa, I Can Explain!

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Dear Santa, I Can Explain! Page 12

by Kayt Miller


  “About?” What is she talking about?

  “About you. He usually only takes a woman out in public once. But, I’ve seen you twice now.”

  “Oh, I hadn’t realized.”

  “That he’s a player?”

  I laugh because Pamela is close to seventy, I’d guess. When she said ‘player’ it sounded so hilarious. “Well, I don’t know about all that.”

  “I do. So, tell me who made your dress.”

  “It’s Oscar de la Renta.”

  “It’s fabulous, Lexie. I love your taste. You bring a quirky style to these boring events.”

  “I don’t think Gabriel appreciates my fashion sense.”

  “Oh, poppycock. The man needs someone to put some pizazz into his life. Just look at his ties. I think they’re all gray or black.”

  I giggle as I see Gabriel approach. He heard her.

  “I heard that. I'm not wearing a boring tie tonight.”

  Pamela turns and looks first at Gabriel's face, then at the tie. “Well, I’ll be damned.” She turns to me, “Lexie, you’re a good influence on Gabriel. I hope he appreciates it.”

  I raise my brow as I sip my glass of wine. “Me too.”

  “Alright, I’m off. Lexie, stop over and visit in a bit. The girls and I are parked over in that far corner over there.” She points to the opposite corner of the room from where we are now. “I’ll save you a seat.”

  “Okay. Thank you, Pamela. See you later.”

  Chapter 29

  Gabriel

  I hand her the cocktail the bartender and I came up with. “Well, you’ve certainly made a friend there.”

  “I have?” She sips her pink drink. When I asked the barman for a pink cocktail, he came up with the classic Pink Squirrel.

  “You have. And she’s not a bad friend to have.”

  “Why? Because she’s nice. Genuine?” She sips again.

  Well, damn. Lexie has no idea who Pamela McGovern is. Interesting. “Yes. Because she’s nice and genuine.” Truthfully, Pamela is both of those things and more. She is loyal and devoted to her friends and family. She’s also the wealthiest woman in Chicago, maybe the Midwest, and she’s a pit viper if you ever cross her. I can’t imagine Lexie doing anything like that, so there’s no need to warn her.

  “I’m glad she’s here. I feel like I have a friend here tonight.” She sips again. “What is this drink? It’s delicious.”

  “It’s called a Pink Squirrel.” I blink at Lexie and say defensively, “I’m your friend.”

  “You’re my boss and fake boyfriend. I think 'friend' is taking it a tad too far.”

  I lean down and whisper in her ear, “Oh, I don’t know. I think we were pretty friendly in my office today. And let’s not forget about the car tonight.”

  I pull back so I can see the reaction on her face. Her cheeks are bright pink, and her eyes are alive. “Gabriel,” she whisper-hisses. “Stop that.” She slaps my arm. Sipping again, I see she’s already downed her drink.

  “Do you want another?”

  “Yes, please. That was yummy.”

  I take the glass from her hand and make my way back to the same bartender. It takes several minutes to earn my spot at the front of the line. After achieving my goal, I turn to make my way back to her when I see him. A man. A man, probably an inch or two taller than me. He’s also bulkier than me. By the looks of him, he works out all day, every day. I suppose he’s a good-looking guy if you like guys like that. What I don’t like is the fact that he’s leaning close, too close, as he talks to my girlfriend.

  Wait? What? She’s not my girlfriend. What the hell is wrong with me? I move my head side-to-side to loosen up. Muttering to myself, “Shake it off, Gabe. She can talk to whomever she wants. She’s just doing you a favor.” Jesus, she’s got me talking to myself.

  As I step up to the pair, I hold out the drink for Lexie. “Here you go, sweetheart.”

  “Oh, thanks, Gabriel.” She looks up at the intruder. “This little drink is called a Pink Squirrel. You should try one of them, Brodie.”

  I look at Lexie, then at our guest. Holding out my hand, I introduce myself. “Brodie? I’m Gabriel Parker.”

  “Brodie James. Linebacker for the Bears.”

  Oh, now I get it. That’s why he’s the size of a house. He’s a professional athlete. “Oh, how’s your season going?”

  He shrugs but doesn’t say another word to me. He turns back to Lexie. “Well, beautiful, if you get tired of this guy, call me.” He hands her a business card and walks away. Her face is back to that bright pink color from earlier.

  “Wow, that was cool, wasn’t it?” she says brightly.

  “Yeah. Cool.” I take a sip of my cocktail and fume. Not cool. It’s so not cool to poach. I wonder if he’s the flower-sending kind of poacher. “Have you met him before?”

  “No.” she giggles. “How could I have met him before? He’s handsome, isn’t he?” she says almost wistfully.

  I shrug, “If you like that kind of thing.”

  “Oh, I do. I definitely do.” She says staring at the retreating Brodie-the-asshole.

  “Well, you’re here with me. Don’t embarrass me by drooling over another guest.”

  Her head whips back to me so fast she spills some of her drink onto my shoe. “Embarrass you? Did I embarrass you just now?”

  Okay, I can tell the drinks have hit her pretty hard. “No. I said, ‘Don’t embarrass me’ tonight.”

  Throwing back the last of her cocktail, Lexie smiles. “Oh, well, that’s completely different.” She hands me her empty glass. “I think I’ll go powder my nose and visit Pamela and the girls. I’ll be back later.”

  “Uh, okay.” She’s ditching me? What the fuck?

  Chapter 30

  Lexie

  I think the little pink drinks went right to my head. I have no right to be upset with Gabriel. It’s not real between us. I continue to ponder about Gabriel and me as I wind and weave through the sea of guests in search of the ladies restroom. I really do need to ‘powder my nose’. When I finally find the restroom, there’s a long line of women waiting their turn.

  As I wait, I feel someone press closely to my back. I scoot forward to make more room for whoever is behind me, but she follows. When I feel a breath on my neck, I step forward and turn back. As I prepare myself to ask her to step back, I see her. “Christine?”

  “You remembered. That’s so sweet. That reminds me, I couldn’t help noticing you’re here with my fiancé.”

  That reminds her? “He’s not your fiancé.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  “Christine. We shouldn’t be talking about this. It’s none of my business, anyway.”

  “He says he’s not the father, but he is.”

  “I know.”

  “He says we didn’t sleep together, but we did.”

  I don’t respond. What is there to say?

  Ignoring my silence, she continues. “Well, if we didn’t sleep together, how would I know about the little heart-shaped mole on his left ass cheek and the two-inch scar on his right hip?”

  I blink a few times trying to think. “I don’t know.”

  “That’s right. Only someone who’s seen him naked would know those things.”

  “I suppose.” Can that be true? Could Gabriel be lying about this?

  “I suppose,” she says in a fake, mocking voice. Then in a deep, ominous tone, she adds, “Keep your hands off my man, fatty.”

  I’m not sure what to say to that. On the one hand, I know this woman is on the higher end of the cray-cray spectrum, on the other, maybe Gabriel did get her pregnant. Before I can reply, I feel a breeze hit the back of my neck. I turn my head, and she’s gone. I guess she just came into the bathroom to warn me off.

  “Oh, hells bells. Now what?” I murmur. Should I tell Gabriel about this encounter? Yes. I should definitely tell him but not here, not tonight. Dinner will start soon and then the awards. I’d hate to ruin his night by talking about Christ
ine. “I need a drink,” I sigh as I finally enter a stall.

  Back in the ballroom, the first stop is the bar. “Pink squirrel, please.”

  “Huh? Pink what?” says the young bartender.

  “It’s a sweet pink drink,” I giggle. Say that three times fast.

  “I don’t know how to make that,” he shrugs. “How ‘bout a glass of white zinfandel?”

  “Bummer,” I mutter. “Okay. Thanks.”

  He slides a wine glass with about an inch of the pink fluid inside. “That’ll be ten fifty.”

  “Ten dollars?”

  “Ten-fifty, yeah.”

  “Wow, this place is expeeeeensive.” I open my little clutch to grab my credit card when a deep voice says, “I’ve got it.”

  I turn and look up. “Brodie. You don’t need to do that.”

  “Yes, I do. The prettiest girl in the place shouldn’t have to buy her own drink.”

  I snort at his joke. “Yeah, right. I think I saw Sophia Bush a few minutes ago. She’s the prettiest.”

  “She doesn’t hold a candle to you.”

  “Oh, quit it, Brodie,” I giggle. “You don’t need to say stuff like that to me.”

  Brodie leans down, looking into my eyes. He looks intense. “If that guy you’re with doesn’t wake up every morning and thank the fucking stars you’re with him then he’s an idiot. If he doesn’t tell you how beautiful you are…”

  “Brodie, it’s not like that with Gabriel.”

  “Oh, yeah? How is it?”

  “It’s, uh, it’s complicated.”

  “Lex. There’s nothing complicated about it. If you were mine, I’d be proud to have you on my arm at stupid shit like this awards thing. I certainly wouldn’t let you walk around this thing alone, buying your own damn drinks. And I’d thank the heavens I had you in my bed at night.”

  I blink back the burn behind my eyes. “That’s so sweet, Brodie.”

  “Lex. I’m not sweet. But, I think for you, I could be.”

  “Brodie, you don’t even know me.”

  “I bet I do. I bet your kind to everyone, you have a million pets, and you let people treat you like shit.”

  I lurch back, offended. “I don’t let people treat me badly.”

  “You do that guy,” he says using his thumb to point backward.

  “It’s complicated.” I do my best to change the subject. “Why are you here at this thing tonight? It doesn’t seem like you’re cup-o-tea.”

  “My agent said it’d be good P.R. I’m presenting some asshole with his award tonight.”

  “Oh, that’s interesting. So, do you know anyone here tonight?”

  “A few people. You?”

  “Three people.” I giggle. “One, in particular, I’d like to introduce you to. I think you’ll like her.”

  “You’re not setting me up, are you? Because I only want you.”

  I feel the burn of another blush creep up to my cheeks. I think that’s all I’ve done tonight is blush. “No. I’m not trying to set you up.” I take his hand in mine and pull him toward the far corner. When I reach Pamela, I yank his arm until he’s next to me. He’s so hesitant I have to yank on his hand to get him to move closer. “Pamela?”

  She turns around and smiles, “Well, hello, dear. I’m glad you decided to hang with the fun peeps.”

  I giggle at her use of ‘hang with the fun peeps’. “I’d like to introduce you to a friend. Pamela, this is Brodie, Brodie, this is…”

  “I know who she is.” He holds his hand out to shake her hand. “Ma’am.”

  Ma’am? “You know each other?”

  “She owns the Bears.”

  I gasp. “Pamela? You own a bear? Where on earth would you keep a bear?”

  Pamela throws her head back, and Brodie chuckles in a deep reverberating tone. The ladies around us all titter and giggle too. “Oh, my dear. You’re precious. I own the Bears.”

  “More than one?”

  More laughter. “I own the football team. The Chicago Bears.”

  “You do? Wow. That’s… I bet they were expensive.”

  More laughter and some cackles. “Indeed. They’re very expensive,” she looks at Brodie with an arched brow. “Especially this one.” She pats his arm. “He cost me an arm and a leg.”

  I blink, confused. “Oh.” I shrug. “He must be good.”

  “I am,” Brodie growls.

  “Well, that’s neat. I should come to one of your matches sometime.”

  “Matches?” he chuckles. “You should absolutely come to a game. Maybe Pamela could invite you?”

  “Of course, dear. I’d love to. I’ll give Gabriel a call and…”

  “Not Gabriel,” Brodie growls again. “Just her.”

  My head hurts from bouncing back and forth between the two of them. I’d love to ask questions, but I’m pulled from the conversation, literally, when Gabriel tugs on my elbow. “We need to sit down, sweetheart. Dinner is going to be served soon.”

  “Right. Well, it was nice seeing you all again.”

  I hear a series of ‘you too’s’ and ‘goodbye’s’ as I step away. I reach out and pat Brodie’s arm. “Nice talking to you, Brodie. Thank you for the drink.”

  Brodie’s face is hard and angry, but he’s not looking at me. He’s staring at Gabriel who ignores him. Taking my hand in his, Gabriel leads me back through the ballroom. It’s easier to navigate this time since most of the group is now seated at their respective tables. At our seat, Gabriel holds my chair out. “I don’t like you talking to that asshole.” He says into my left ear.

  “He’s nice.”

  “Nice, my ass. He wants in your garters.”

  “He doesn’t know about my garters. How could he want to get in them.”

  “It’s a figure of speech.”

  “Speaking of getting into someone’s pants. I ran into Christine.”

  Gabriel pauses right as he’s about to sit in his chair. “Here?”

  “Yes. In the ladies room.”

  “You two talked?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. She spoke, I listened.”

  “And?”

  “And she says she’s got proof you two slept together.”

  “What!” he yells drawing unwanted attention to our table.

  “She said you had a heart-shaped mole on your ass cheek and a scar on your hip.”

  “How could she…?”

  I shrug. “That’s a good question.” I sip my water and look out into the ballroom. At the table directly in front of us, I see Brodie seated with Pamela, her husband, and a few other couples. He’s staring daggers at Gabriel but when his eyes meet mine, he smiles. I smile back.

  Gabriel mumbles, “Damn, this is going to be a long fucking night.”

  Heck, it already is a long effing night. I feel like I’ve been here three hours and it’s only been one. “Yes, indeedy. It sure is.” I sip my water attempting to think of a subject change. “Hey, did you know Pamela owned the Chicago Bears?”

  Chapter 31

  Gabriel

  What has happened to my well-planned life? I had a routine. A system. 1) Design beautiful buildings. 2) Run my business. 3)Date/fuck beautiful vapid women––once. 4) Repeat.

  But all that’s messed up now. I’ve barely drawn anything for a week. I’ve got a pressing deadline coming up but all I can do is conjure up stupid events like this one so I can take Lexie out. Not to mention I haven’t gotten laid for even longer. My life’s a clusterfuck.

  Take tonight for example. I wanted to bring her here so she could see how important I am, how well I’m doing. But, that’s not what happened tonight. Instead of her seeing what a ‘great man’ I am, she wanders off by herself to mingle with her own friends.

  My previous dates clung to me like Velcro, not wanting me out of their site. Lexie, though, she’s independent and interested in more people here than just me. Hell, she’s spent most of the cocktail hour with Brodie, the fucking professional football player who looks at me like he
wants to gut me with this butter knife.

  And Lexie? She thinks he’s nice. Jesus. But, here’s the kicker. I cannot, for the life of me, figure out why I fucking care. I don’t want a girlfriend. I’m abso-fucking-lutley not looking for a wife. This entire charade is just that, a charade. I need to get a damn grip. I should just let Lexie date Thor over there. What’s it to me?

  After my internal struggle, I turn to look over at my date. She’s chatting with the woman sitting on her right. I watch her laugh and gesture her hands as she tells some story. She’s enchanting, engaging, and fucking beautiful.

  My eyes fall to her chest that’s barely contained in her little dress and all I want to do is touch her there. I want to kiss her there and hell, I want to lick and suckle her there too. I imagine her nipples would be a lovely shade of pink.

  She’s so damn sexy with all of those curves. My dick is rock hard again thanks to my vivid imagination. I throw a napkin onto my lap and do my best to think of something else. Something other than those garters and her nipples. Fuck, I want to take her home, strip her down so I can see for myself. I wonder if she’d let me?

  When dinner is served, Lexie only plays with her food. When I ask her if she wants something different, she declines and nibbles on a green bean from her plate. I don’t know what’s wrong with the food. It’s not terrible. It’s not Chez Paul but it’s passable.

  When dessert of strawberry cheesecake is served, she only nibbles on a strawberry. “What’s wrong with the food?” I ask leaning toward her.

  Turning to me she gives me a mega-watt smile, “Nothing. I’m just stuffed.”

  “Stuffed? You haven’t eaten anything.” I say loudly. Too loudly, apparently, because the people sitting at the nearby tables turn all at once. Even that asshole Brodie glares at me.

  “I’m full from my drinks. I’m fine.”

  I’m not convinced. After the plates are cleared, the awards portion of the evening begins, thank fuck. I’m anxious for it to be over so I can take her home. But, to which home?

  When the final award is about to be announced, I watch Brodie step up to the podium on my left. Clearing his throat, he says, “Good evening. I’m here to announce the winner of the prestigious AIA Architect of the Year Award. The winner tonight has created some of the most innovative and dynamic designs this city has ever seen.” Brodie coughs. “This year’s winner is Gabriel Parker of Parker and Associates.”

 

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