by Zoe Chant
CHAPTER 2
Abigail
Abigail swore under her breath as the ladder teetered. “I hate Christmas,” she muttered.
She glared at the rooftop display. It was all set up to look like it was about to come crashing down on the road below— well, right now she wished it would come tumbling down on her.
“All right up there, Abby-babby?”
Abigail forced a smile over gritted teeth. “I’m fine, Mr. Bell! Just so long as you keep the ladder steady!” She winced at the sing-song sound of her own voice in full retail-assistant mode. “Almost got it…”
She glanced down at her boss to reassure herself that he was still holding the ladder in place on the slippery paving stones, and turned back to her task. Near the bottom of the ridiculous display, almost close enough for her to reach, was a beribboned gift box with an adorable kitten poking its head out.
It was fake, of course. Same as everything else about this time of year. But that hadn’t stopped her boss’ heart from melting when some apple-cheeked little asshole started crying that someone had to save the poor kitten, it was so scared and cold and look, it has snow on it!
Well, either his heart had melted at the kid, or other parts of his anatomy had reacted to the kid’s bombshell mother.
And so, in the spirit of the season, Mr. Bell had dispatched Abigail to “save” the poor “kitten”.
Standing on tip-toe on the top rung of the ladder, Abigail could almost reach the pathetic stuffed animal. If she leaned— ugh— her breasts brushed up against the cold, wet tiles, but she could just wrap one finger around the toy’s outstretched little paw.
“Come on, you little— aha!”
Abigail slithered back until her feet were flat on the ladder again, the kitten toy safely in her grasp. The wet, freezing cold kitten toy. She gave it a half-hearted shake and a flurry of icy droplets merrily soaked into her chest.
Merry Christmas, Abigail, she groaned silently. Out loud, she called, “Got it! I’m coming down, boss!”
Mr. Bell didn’t reply. Trying to ignore the cold water dripping onto her from the kitten toy, she peered down at the street. Mr. Bell was still there, and so was the little kid who’d been so concerned about kitty’s welfare… and so was the kid’s mom. Who had a waterfall of gold-blonde hair, and a laugh like jingle bells, and a figure that filled out her puffy winter coat in a way that Abigail was sure should be illegal. Not that Abigail was jealous, or anything.
Mr Bell was staring at her transfixed, leaning absent-mindedly against the ladder.
Oh, come on. Seriously?
“Uh, Mr. Bell?” He didn’t look up— but he did lean more of his weight on the ladder. “Mr. Bell!”
Abigail held on tight to the ladder and clambered down as fast as she could, but it wasn’t fast enough. Everything seemed to go into slow motion.
Mr. Bell puffed out his chest at the blonde woman. The ladder’s feet skidded sideways on the slick pavement. Abigail was suddenly, sickeningly, airborne.
But not, she knew, for long.
She fell backwards, the sky swooping overhead. Cold wind whipped at her legs. The kitten toy stared glumly at her from her right hand. She noted absently that one of its eyes had fallen out.
Somewhere below her and to her left, the ladder crashed down on the ground. She could only be a split-second from impact herself. Abigail squeezed her eyes shut. Some stupid, ridiculous part of her wanted to cover the kitten’s remaining eye, as well. As though that would help.
“Oof!”
Abigail cracked one eye open. Christmas lights spun above her, looping down from the shop’s eaves.
She wasn’t dead. She opened her other eye cautiously. The lights kept spinning, but they slowed down. Stopped.
What just happened?
Maybe she’d landed on her boss? But she could feel strong arms holding her, and the face staring down into hers wasn’t the squashed ghost of Henry Bell. It was a man she’d never seen before. A gorgeous man.
He had his arms around her. He was holding her. Carrying her like she weighed as little as the poor wet kitten toy, and hadn’t just hurtled out of the sky like a mad, red-and-green meteor.
“Hi,” the man said, and Abigail’s heart turned over. This guy wasn’t Mr. Bell. He wasn’t squashed. What he was, was the most breath-stoppingly handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on.
He had dark hair that swooped over his forehead, and eyes that looked a rich, warm brown— but she must have been in shock, because they looked different colors as well, red and gold spinning in their depths like sparks flying out of a roaring fire.
His cheeks were flushed with exertion, his cheeks were dusted with a day’s dark stubble and his lips were red and looked temptingly soft.
Temptingly soft— and only a few inches away from her own. Abigail was suddenly intensely, painfully aware of the man’s arms around her. He was holding her to his chest, which meant she could feel his chest through the thin fabric of her work costume, and oh God, it was a really nice chest. Just like his face was a really nice face, and his arms felt like really nice arms, and—
“Hi,” she said at last, her cheeks blazing.
“Are you all right?” His voice was warm and mellow, like molten chocolate drizzled over butterscotch ice cream. Abigail licked her lips.
“I—” Cold water dripped down her arm, and she looked down to see the kitten toy’s single eye staring woefully at her. “I got the thing!”
“You got the— ?”
Abigail wriggled upright and the man let her go, setting her safely on her feet. Adrenaline, or maybe just the joy of not being splatted on the ground, filled Abigail’s body until her skin felt like it was about to start fizzing. She turned to Mr. Bell, the kid, and the kid’s mom, all of whom were staring at her wide-eyed.
“Here,” she said, grinning at the kid and holding out the toy. “I brought kitty down, just like you wanted. Do you want to take her with you? I could dry her off out back, if you like—”
The kid grabbed at the toy and then recoiled. “Ewww! It’s all gross! Mom, I don’t want it, it’s yucky!”
“Well, yeah, it’s been up on the roof for about a month now...” Abigail began, and then bit her tongue as Mr. Bell shot her a warning glare. He turned back to the customers, a buttery smile melting across his face.
“Now, now, I’m sure we can get this all sorted out—”
“It’s yucky! I want a nice kitty!”
“Yes, sweetie, let’s go and get you a nice kitty somewhere else.” A familiar expression passed over the blonde woman’s face: part exhaustion, part irritation at the incompetency of retail workers, part fear that her daughter was about to make a scene. She tugged at her daughter’s mittened hand. “Maybe at that shop back across the road?”
Mr. Bell’s greasy smile melted off completely as the blonde woman sashayed away. Abigail wasn’t sure exactly how she managed to sashay in a winter coat and snow boots, but she did it somehow.
Abigail sighed. “So much for the poor, lonely kitten— hey!”
She jumped back as Mr. Bell shook his finger under her nose.
“What do you think you’re doing? First you almost flatten this poor gentleman, and now you’re just going to stand there like a stunned fish? Go inside and get changed! I don’t want you losing me any more sales!” His eyes narrowed to angry, sweaty slits under his Santa hat and stick-on eyebrows.
Abigail opened her mouth to ask whether he’d really been intending to charge the woman and her daughter for the sodden soft toy, and then closed it again. What was the point? It was Christmas; he’d only find something else to complain about.
“Sorry, boss,” she muttered, and Mr. Bell stomped back into the shop, gesturing angrily for Abigail to follow him..
All her adrenaline-fueled exhilaration drained away. Abigail’s shoulders slumped. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected; praise for going above and beyond? An apology for almost making her fall to her death? Hell, had Mr. Bell even n
oticed the danger she had been in— or just the possible risk to his sales margin?
Didn’t I learn this lesson years ago? Never put yourself out there. Not for anyone, and definitely not at Christmas.
She looked down at the soaking-wet cat toy in her hand and grimaced. Now she had to deal with this, as well. And—
“Is he meant to be Santa, or the Grinch?” said a warm, deep voice behind her. Abigail’s heart jumped into her throat.
He was still there. Her rescuer.
She turned around, trying to look casual, and realized too late that she was still holding the plush toy out in front of her. The wet bundle of faux fur slapped into her rescuer’s jacket.
“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” she blurted out, snatching her hand back. “I didn’t mean to— um, I didn’t...” The man’s eyes creased with amusement, and she forced herself to relax. She stuck out her hand— the one without the toy in it. “Thanks, uh, for saving me from becoming a festive splat on the ground.”
He pulled off his glove before shaking her hand. His fingers closed around hers gently, and her shoulders tingled with the memory of his arm wrapped around them.
His other arm— and hand— had been wrapped around her legs. As soon as she remembered that, her thighs started tingling, too. She bit her lip, forcing herself not to look away from his strangely multicolored eyes.
Don’t blush, she ordered herself. Don’t blush. Wow, his eyes really are beautiful…
“I’m Jasper,” the man said.
Like his eyes, Abigail thought, feeling dizzy.
“Are you all right?” Jasper stepped closer, concern darkening his eyes. “That was some fall. I’m—” He swallowed. “I’m glad I was passing by.”
Me too. Abigail’s head buzzed, and the words stuck in her throat. What was wrong with her? Just talk to him like a normal person. Not like he’s the most handsome man who’s ever… touched you. Oh, God.
Her skin tingled as she remembered how it had felt to have his arms around her. He’d appeared out of nowhere, and saved her life. Like a miracle.
Really? A Christmas miracle? You’re really going to go there?
This wasn’t a miracle. It was some guy who’d been in the right place at the right time, and was now probably desperate to get on with whatever he’d been doing before she fell out of the sky and onto him.
Abigail felt like someone had just dumped ice-water down her back.
He’d just been going about his business, she’d almost splatted him, and now she was practically drooling at him in the middle of the street. She remembered Mr. Bell’s glazed eyes staring at the blonde woman who’d been after a present for her daughter, and felt sick.
“I’m fine,” she said quickly. She knew she should go inside and leave the poor guy alone, but her feet felt glued in place.
The guy— Jasper— was still looking at her, one eyebrow raised. “So, what were you doing up that ladder, anyway?”
Abigail blinked. He could just leave, but he hadn’t.
Did he… actually want to stop and talk with her?
Abigail bit her lip. Technically, she was still on duty. Her shift didn’t end for another few hours. But, also technically, Jasper was a potential customer. Talking to him was her job.
And maybe a short chat would give her time for her heart to stop racing, and her feet to un-glue from the sidewalk.
She glanced up at the man. He was staring at her mouth, his cheeks slightly flushed.
“I was getting this thing down.” Abigail held up the soft toy, and Jasper’s eyes flicked to it— guilty-fast. Her heart flipped, but she managed to keep her voice even. “Kid went on and on about it, but the moment it’s out of the gift box, she didn’t want it any more. Which is Christmas in a nutshell, isn’t it?”
“Are Christmas kittens a thing now?” Jasper frowned. “I’m going to have to rethink my whole gifting plan for my nephew...” His eyes sparkled, and Abigail started to feel herself unwind. Maybe
Abigail snorted. “Nope. Kitty here is a leftover from Halloween.” She held it up so he could see the tiny pumpkin shapes the toy had instead of toes. “See? And it’s already falling apart. Poor kitty. We should have dumped you straight in the garbage with all the other leftovers.”
“That’s a bit harsh.” Jasper leaned closer, and Abigail’s face started to feel hot. He poked at the soft toy, carefully inspecting it. “It’s not in that bad condition— oh. What happened to its other eye? Um, whoops.”
He raised his hands and backed away as the leg he’d been playfully shaking came loose. Abigail laughed and picked it up.
“See? It’s a hopeless case. Straight in the bin.” She glanced back up at the roof. Her fall hadn’t disturbed any of the rest of the display. Still the same leering elves and giant, drunk-looking Santa. “Along with the rest of that rubbish as soon as Christmas is over.”
“Aw, where’s your Christmas spirit?” he said, laughing.
Abigail raised her eyebrows at him. “I think Mr. Bell sold it earlier today. Fifty percent off. Which is a great deal, because I’ve never gotten much use out of it.”
She’d meant it as a joke, but Jasper’s face fell. Guilt shot through her. The guy had just saved her life— and, oh God, she was going to remember the sensation of his arms around her for as long as she lived— and now she’d gone and messed that up, too.
Why was she always like this? She hated Christmas, sure, but that didn’t mean she had to ruin it for everyone else.
Especially since she was still technically at work.
She forced a smile onto her face. “Hey, I’m kidding. It’s just, you know—”
“You don’t like Christmas?” Jasper sounded confused. She stared at him.
“I’m not its biggest fan, no.” Drop it, please, she added silently.
“But—” He spread his arms, gesturing to the over-decorated town square. The giant fake tree, the ridiculous strings of fire-hazard Christmas lights. All the harried shoppers, desperate for the latest bargain.
Abigail didn’t know what made her open her mouth. Maybe it was the shock of falling off the roof. Or maybe you’re just a terrible person.
“But what? You think anyone out there is really having fun?” A muscle in her jaw twitched and she wrapped her arms tightly around herself. “It’s all fake. Look at them all, stressing out over buying presents that will be forgotten a day later. Acting like all these carols don’t make you want to claw your ears off. Putting on a happy face and holding it together so the kiddies can experience the magic of Christmas.”
She bit her lips shut before she could say anything else. Bitterness surged through her— but it felt good, too, to say it out loud. Let out all the frustration that had been building inside of her for so long.
Abigail turned back to Jasper, and her stomach fell. He looked like someone had just slapped him. And that someone is you, genius.
She opened her mouth, ready to apologize, when Mr. Bell’s voice cut through the air.
“Abby-babby!” Abigail winced. Mr. Bell pushed through the door, a smile on his face for Jasper— who, after all, might turn out to be a customer— and a scowl for Abigail. “I thought I told you to go out back. Or wasn’t that stunt with the ladder enough for you? You wanna put on another show?”
“What?” Abigail’s forehead creased— and then she followed Mr. Bell’s gaze down to the front of her costume. “Oh.”
Her little skid down the rooftop might not have disturbed the display, but it had left a huge wet patch all down her front. The thin polyester elf costume was clinging to her boobs. The only reason she hadn’t felt it was because it must not have soaked through her shapewear yet... but it was only a matter of time. And in the meantime, she was giving the whole square a show.
“Oh, shit,” she muttered, wiping futilely at her tunic.
Mr. Bell almost exploded. “Inside. Now!”
Abigail put her head down, cheeks blazing with shame, and made for the door.
“Wait!”
Arms cradling her wet-stained chest, Abigail spun back to Jasper.
What now? she wanted to scream. What can possibly make this day worse, than being screamed at by children, almost falling to my death, and being yelled at by my boss in front of the hottest guy I’ve ever met?
“What time does your shift end?”
Abigail gaped. Of all the questions she’d expected, this hadn’t even made the top hundred. Was he serious? Was this hot guy— who’s just saved her life— asking her out? At Christmas?
That was impossible. Worse than impossible. At Christmas? She couldn’t risk it.
“I can’t—” she began, and then Mr. Bell shouted again. She put her head down and ran inside, desperately trying to convince herself she was doing the right thing.
* * *
The rest of her shift was busy, but it was the mindless sort of busy that left her brain a lot of time to think up better answers to Jasper’s question. Answers like Ten o’clock, or the more accurate Ten o’clock unless Mr. Bell decides we need to stay open late again, or the crazy but heartfelt Right now! Let’s go! Screw you, Mr. Bell, I quit!
But of course she wasn’t going to quit. If she was, she would have handed in her notice back in October, when they started putting up Christmas decorations, and found another job to fill up the days before Christmas.
And it was too late to think of other things she could have said now, anyway. Jasper had his answer: Abigail George was a crazy lady. Stay away. Especially during the holiday season.
She shook her head.
“You all right, hon?” A candy-cane prodded Abigail in the nose. She looked up into her workmate Carol’s inquiring gaze.
Abigail hoisted a smile onto her face. “I’m fine,” she said, trying to sound as upbeat as Carol always did. “Long day.”
“Well, they’re only going to get longer!” Carol chirped. “I can’t believe you took on all the late shifts. But I guess it’s not like you have family waiting at home for you.”