“Not on your life, girly,” I said, pointing at her. “You know I have to work today.”
“I know.” She pouted. “But it’s Christmas. I was hoping you could get out of it, and we could spend the day together doing super awesome Carly and Charisse stuff.”
She shot me a smile that melted my heart.
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” I said, kneeling beside her and wrapping her in a hug. “But you know how tight money is. I have to take every shift I can get.”
“How about opening just one gift,” she pleaded.
I didn’t have the heart to tell her that was the one gift. The only gift. Santa wouldn’t be leaving anything extra—not this year. Maybe I could scrape together enough to get her that bracelet she’d been eyeing at the thrift shop the other day…
I kissed her on the temple. “You’ll just have to wait,” I said. “It’ll be worth it.”
She climbed to her feet. “Is it okay if I watch a movie in your room until it’s time to go?”
I stood, nodding my head in that direction. “Go ahead.”
Once she ran off, I slipped into the bathroom to change into my waitress uniform and slicked on just enough make up to pass as presentable. When I was done, I peeked back into my room. Carly was propped up on my bed watching the small boxed TV that sat on the dresser.
“Almost time to go, buttercup,” I said. “You can stay with Mrs. Abercorn until I finish with the breakfast rush. When I get back, we’ll open presents together.” I leaned closer. “And who knows, maybe I’ll have another one for you.”
Carly pulled her attention from the television and huffed. “Mrs. Abercorn has a humpback and an overly sensitive attitude about it.”
“Well, one kind of fosters the other,” I said. “But it’s only for a few hours.”
“Charisse,” she said, swallowing hard.
“Yeah, sweetie?”
“I know we’ve spent a couple of Christmases together now, but this one feels different,” she said, shuffling her feet. “It feels like the first one.”
I knew what she meant. There was something about today that I couldn’t put my finger on. Though I had been in this town for six years, though I had acted as a mother to this beautiful little girl for three whole years, everything felt brand new.
Still, feeding her heartache wouldn’t help matters. I put my hand on her shoulder and said, “I know you miss your mom. I miss her, too. But we’re going to get through this. I promise, kid. Maybe it feels like the first because we both sort of need it to.” I ran my fingers through her hair. “Hey, you know what? Maybe I can skip work today. The diner can get by just fine without me. Like you said, it’s Christmas.”
“No,” she said. “It’s fine. I promise. Besides, Mrs. Abercorn would be all by herself if I didn’t show up.”
“You’re a good kid,” I said, and I gave her a kiss on the cheek.
She smiled. “Just hurry back. I can’t wait to open up my easy bake oven.”
“I’m gonna have to start wrapping your presents in lead.” I grinned. “Now go get dressed. I’ll start breakfast.”
She returned my kiss on the cheek and bounded off to get dressed.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the first time I had ever seen her do that, as if we didn’t really know each other at all. But that was ridiculous. I was just letting her emotions seep into my own. Empathy was a dangerous creature.
That’s all it was, wasn’t it?
*
“This diner’s going to be the death of me,” I said to Old Man Wilbur, setting his standard issue plate of pancakes and hash browns in front of him.
What? He had asked me how I was doing.
He chuckled as if I was joking and dug into his breakfast. I nodded and went on about my business.
While it was true I loved it here in Hope’s Bluff, what was less spectacular was the only job I could find here after moving.
I liked the diner and all. The pancakes were good, the pay was fair, and I got all the free lunch I wanted (provided I could sneak it past my boss). But I would have been lying if I said this was what I wanted to do with my life. The truth was, I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. There was something missing. I moved about feeling as if a piece of me was floating out in the ether somewhere and, for whatever reason, I was missing it particularly strongly today.
What was it about this morning that made me feel so off?
I sighed, brushed the thought away, and turned to table six, which had just been seated.
“What can I get you?” I asked without looking up from my notepad. I smacked my grape berry bubble gum and counted the seconds until my shift was over.
“Do you have any suggestions?” The man’s voice, deep and gravely, lit a fire in my insides.
My head jerked up, and as I took in the sight that now sat in the wholly unworthy wall seat at table six, my breath caught in my throat. He was an Adonis. No, he probably actually was Adonis, the Greek god or whoever himself. The man’s eyes were dark and deep, his face chiseled and adorned with the world’s most perfect five’o’clock shadow I’d ever seen at half-past-nine. And his body. I couldn’t even think about his body without a tremble running down my back.
He smiled at me, a panty-melting smile, and continued. “What do you like?”
“M-Me?” I stammered pointing at myself with my pen. “I like a lot of things. Um, I like to ski. I love the beach. Not that you could tell from my current attire, but I’m a big fashion fan.”
“Good to know.” He chuckled—just something else to do to take my breath away, apparently. “But, more specifically, I was talking about the menu.”
“Oh, of course.” I winced. How red was my face right now? “The pancakes are pretty popular.”
“Well, that still doesn’t answer the question.” He sat up straighter in his chair.
“I’m sorry?”
“I didn’t ask you what is popular. I asked you what you liked. You see, I don’t really trust large groups of people. They’ve never swayed me in the right direction.” He smiled. “Historically speaking.”
“But you trust me?” I asked, not able to hide the smile spreading across my face. “Historically speaking.”
“You know, I do,” he said, nodding to himself. “I don’t know why, but you seem…familiar. I guess you have one of those faces.”
My cheeks were practically on fire now. “I…did you read the April 2005 issue of Seventeen Magazine? I used to be a model.”
He arched his eyebrows. “I’m pretty sure I missed that one,” he said. “So tell me, Ms…. I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?”
“Charisse,” I said evenly. “Charisse Bellamy.” I closed my eyes a minute, shaking my head. Charisse Bellamy? Was I introducing myself to royalty. Perhaps I should give him my home address and social security number while I was at it. “I mean, everyone calls me Char.”
“Well, Ms. Bellamy, what do you like here?”
The way he said my name…I nearly stumbled back. The air pulled from my lungs, and I had to steady myself.
“Are you okay?” he asked, getting to his feet.
I reached out my hand to stop him. “French toast,” I said, recomposing myself. God, if the weirdest waitresses got the biggest tips, this would be a good Christmas. “I like the French toast.”
“Sounds great,” he said, settling back into his booth. “We’ll have two.”
“We?” I asked.
He motioned behind me. I turned to find a small, fragile-looking woman with pale skin and dark hair standing behind me.
She held out her hand to me. “Name’s Annabeth,” she said sweetly as I gave her hand a shake. “And I’d bet my brute of a husband hasn’t had the manners to introduce himself.” She gave him a playful glance, and added, “His name’s Abram.”
“Of course,” I said, trying to mask my embarrassment with a smile. Of course he was married. “Nice to meet you. Are you guys passing through?”
&nb
sp; “We’re moving here actually,” Annabeth said, sliding into the seat across from Abram. Instantly, I hated her. She was tiny, she was thin, and she had this man—this perfect Adonis for her own. “Can you believe it?” she asked, rolling her eyes. “Abram has always wanted to come here.”
“It’s where my parents met, back in ‘65,” he said, smiling at her the way I wished someone would smile at me. “I’ve always wanted to come here, to see what they saw. I know that sounds cheesy. What can I say?”
“I think it sounds nice, actually,” I answered before thinking.
“Yeah.” His attention turned from his wife and onto me, his face beaming. “Yeah, I sort of thought you might for some reason. Weird, isn’t it?”
“Insane,” I answered, smiling.
He extended his hand to me. “It’s really nice to meet you.”
When I took his hand, a spark ran through me. Something primal and real lit up in my chest, and a piece of me—the piece of me that I could never find—seemed to fall into place.
Chapter 12
The rest of the day went by quickly, with a sort of daze filling my head. I found myself humming songs I had never heard before and chuckling at things that almost certainly never happened. It was as though there was a memory tickling the corners of my mind—still too foggy to see, but I could definitely feel it. And it felt good.
That night, after the presents were opened, the carols were sung, and Carly and I watched our obligatory airing of ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ on television, it was time for bed.
As I tucked her in, we did what we always did on Christmas. We talked about her mother. I told her about the first Christmas I spent here in Hope’s Bluff and how her mother insisted I spend the night because no one should have to be alone during the holidays.
Then, after we had both laughed and cried enough to feel sufficiently satisfied, I told Carly it was time for lights out.
“Wait!” she said, more panic in her voice than sat well with me.
My finger paused on the light switch. “What is it, sweetie?”
“Santa Claus,” she answered flatly.
“What about him?” I moved back onto the bed, sitting next to her.
“Does he only come on Christmas eve?” she asked, her eyes wide.
“Yeah, sweetheart. Only Christmas eve.” I mussed her hair. “You’ll just have to wait to earn more presents until next year. Sorry about that.”
She shook her head. “I know you’re the one who bought those for me.”
“What?” I balked. “That’s… Well, of course that’s not true. Santa got you those presents.”
“See, I wrote Santa a letter. But I didn’t tell him about the stuff I wanted. I only told that to you. That’s how I know you bought them for me.”
“And what was in your letter?” I asked, inching closer and tensing up because I anticipated a ‘all I want for Christmas is to have my mother back’ response, and I needed to be ready for that conversation.
“I told him to stay away from us,” she said, biting her lip.
I brushed the bangs out of her eyes. “Why on Earth would you tell him that?”
“You’ll laugh at me.” She made a sour face. “You’ll think I’m stupid.”
“Look at me,” I said, taking her face in my hands and staring her right in the eyes. “I could never—and I mean never—think you were stupid.” I leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “Now tell me, sweetheart. Tell me why you would send that.”
Carly swallowed hard. Looking down at her flowered sheets, she murmured, “Because Santa Claus is a bad man.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, although, as silly as the idea was, it also sent a sort of barbed thought running through my head. “Santa Claus is great. He gives all the kids in the whole world presents. He has reindeer and a bowl full of jelly or whatever. He’s awesome.”
“No, he’s not,” she said, not looking up at me. “He scares me. I look at him, at all the pictures and stuff.” Tears started to pour down her cheeks. “Everybody thinks he’s so great, that he’s kind. They can’t see what he really is. But I do.” She looked up at me, her cheeks wet and red. “He has black eyes and a black heart. And his teeth are sharp and scary.” She swallowed hard again. “He wants to kill you.”
“Oh, sweetie.” I sighed, scooping her into a giant bear hug.
As soon as I had her in my arms, the floodgates opened. She cried and cried, gasping so hard that she shook.
“Don’t be afraid.” I said it over and over again, stroking her head like I always did when she was nervous or scared. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Nothing at all.”
But that barbed thought kept prickling and slicing through my mind, tearing through the defenses in my head. In a voice louder than I would have liked, it told me Carly was right.
*
After I’d put Carly down, I tried to get some sleep myself. But, as luck and lethargy would have it, sleep wouldn’t come.
At first, I was thinking about Carly, hoping she was okay. And then about Santa Claus, as crazy as that was, and the way that I was sort of afraid of him, too. How insane was that?
But it didn’t take long for my mind to find another, more pleasing, place to land.
I couldn’t stop thinking about that guy from the diner this morning. Abram, I thought his name was. His dark hair, his mysterious eyes, the way he smiled at me; it lit me up in a way I couldn’t explain.
I had never been the type of woman to go gaga over a guy—especially one I’d just met—but something about this man was so familiar. It was as if I knew him, and not just in a “maybe we went to the same high school” kind of way, but in a more intimate, maybe even spiritual way. That, of course, was ridiculous. And I was sure his wife would have something to say about this miraculous connection I felt, but I couldn’t help it. It was there. I felt it, and I couldn’t un-feel it.
I shook my head slowly, feeling like the world’s biggest fool. None of this mattered. He had a wife—a beautiful wife who he was probably making love to right this second. Whatever he was doing, it certainly didn’t involve thinking about me.
A knock on the front door startled me from thinking. What time was it?
I wrapped a robe around me and started for the living room. A vision of Santa Claus, or more aptly, the Santa Clause that Carly described to me, flashed through my head.
I shuddered. Something with sharp teeth and black eyes that wanted to kill me wasn’t my idea of a welcome late-night visitor. But that thing didn’t exist. He was just the product of a scared little girl’s overactive imagination.
Of course, that still left the question of who was actually at the door.
I turned the deadbolt, but kept the latch on as I opened the door.
My heart practically slammed against my ribcage when I saw him.
Abram.
He was standing in front of me, dressed casually in a tight black shirt and dark blue jeans. His hair was swept to the left, making him look even more attractive somehow, and his eyes were wide and intense.
“Hey…” I muttered, unfastening the latch and opening the door completely.
“Hey,” he answered.
I smoothed down my hair, trying to ease the nervous butterflies in my stomach. “Wh-What are you d-doing here?”
“I…came to see you,” he said, as though he wasn’t sure of it himself.
“Okay.” My heart leaped into my throat. “But…how did you know where I live?”
His hand traveled to the back of his head, giving his bicep the best possible visage.
I melted.
“I’m not really sure...” he said, leveling his intense gaze at me. “I couldn’t sleep. I know it sounds strange, but I was thinking about you, and it was keeping me awake.”
“Oh?” I asked, finding myself outside now.
“I went for a walk to tire myself out, and then I found myself here,” he said, sounding a little more confident now. “I saw this house and I knew…I knew
you would be here. And I needed to see you.”
He moved closer, slowly as though he didn’t want to scare me. But he wouldn’t have scared me. He could have pounced toward me, grabbed me by the shoulders, and shook me…and I’d have just swooned.
“I know this doesn’t make sense, but I feel as if I know you. I feel as if we’ve known each other for a long time.” He looked down, clearing his throat. “I’m not a stalker, I assure you. If you tell me to leave, I’ll be gone. But the truth is, ever since I saw you at the diner, I’ve felt like I’m suffocating. And now, seeing you, I feel like I can breathe again.” He looked up at me, his eyes bearing into me. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”
I wasn’t sure what to say. I wasn’t the type of woman to kiss married strangers on her front porch in the dead of night, but this felt right. He wasn’t a stranger, not really. And I wanted this. I needed this. I had to breathe again, too, damn it. I just had to.
“What are you waiting for?” I asked weakly, emotion quelling up so hard and fast inside of me that I feared it would take me down.
He looked at me again for a long moment, perhaps contemplating the very thoughts running through my own mind. This was wrong. We shouldn’t do this. Normally I would say I have a fairly decent moral compass, that I at least could feel it when I did things wrong. But this felt right.
Abram must have felt it, too, because in the next instant, he took my face in his hands—hands that I never wanted to be without—and touched his lips to mine.
The entire world shifted. This was right. It had to be. I needed to know this man.
And then…I did.
As though a veil had been removed from over my eyes, and a fog lifted from my mind, it all came back to me. Who I was. Who he was. What we had been through.
The truth of the whole world had been wrapped up in that kiss. He had given it to me and, as I pulled away from him and looked in his eyes, I knew I had given it to him, too.
“Abram,” I murmured, tears flooding my eyes.
“Don’t cry, Char,” he said, wiping the tears from my cheeks. “I’m here now.”
Alphas Unwrapped: 21 New Steamy Paranormal Tales of Shifters, Vampires, Werewolves, Dragons, Witches, Angels, Demons, Fey, and More Page 72