by Alexis Anne, Audra North, Julia Kelly, Alexandra Haughton
Humiliation complete.
She wanted to lie down next to the tree and wrap herself in some of that plastic just to get away from the burning shame.
“Do you need some help getting that upstairs?” He gestured to the tree, politely ignoring the fact that her snot was marring his clothing.
She nodded, hating herself for meeting him this way, all awkward and needy, and at the same time a part of her thrilled that he actually knew she lived in the building, and that she lived upstairs.
You are ridiculous.
“Yes, I—that would be great. I mean, if you truly don’t mind. I really am sorry. I don’t know—”
He cut her off with a shake of his head and a small smile. “I don’t mind. Truly.”
Mother of God, that smile should be illegal.
She swallowed hard. “Th-thanks.”
He shrugged. “Don’t mention it.” And then he stepped past her, grabbed the middle of the tree, and hoisted it up over his shoulder like it weighed nothing.
Astrid barely refrained from clasping her hands to her heart and sighing.
“After you,” he said, pointing his chin in the direction of the front doors.
She led him into the elevator, where he set the tree down. It took up so much space that she was nearly pressed against him once more, but this time…
This time, it wasn’t embarrassing. It was wholly, completely arousing, and even though the ride up to the second floor was extremely short, it felt like an age.
“I’m Simon, by the way.”
His voice resonated in the small elevator car. She loved his accent, the way he shaped his vowels and enunciated each word.
She nodded. “I know.” She probably shouldn’t have told him that, but it was too late now. She tried to cover up what she’d just admitted. “I’m Astrid. Faber. I live upstairs from you.”
“Yes, I think you’ve seen me before,” he replied, then laughed at her confused expression. “Never mind. It’s a reference to a hit song in the late eighties. My uncle used to listen to it a lot.”
The elevator stopped and the doors slid open, saving her from having to say something stupidly obvious, like, Oh. I’ve never heard it.
Funny, that she was thinking things like that. Things that seemed to suggest that she thought she had a chance at something with this guy. Things that told her that she wanted to make a good impression so that...
So what?
Did she think he was going to ask her out, or something? Kiss her? After she’d wiped her nose on him and made him heft her tree into her living room?
The realization annoyed her. She’d been fine by herself, avoiding dating, not even socializing much this past year. She’d told herself she needed time to get over things, and she had.
So what did this disappointment mean?
He picked up the tree again, shouldering it and following her into the hallway, down to her door.
“Are you hosting family?”
She stopped in the middle of sliding her key into the lock and looked over at him, confused. I don’t have any family left, she wanted to say. Instead, she tried for a vague smile and asked, “For what?”
He gave her a strange look. “Uh, Christmas?”
She could feel the tree on his shoulder laughing at her. His very nearness had her so turned around that she’d forgotten the reason he was here, in the first place.
“Oh! Ha. Right.” She fake-laughed off her flub and unlocked the door, pushing it open. “And no, it’s just me. Christmas for one.”
“Ah,” was all he said as he passed over the threshold, pausing just inside the door. A part of her felt relieved that he hadn’t pressed her for more information. But another part—the one that had been disappointed at the realization that he wasn’t going to ask her out, wished he would have asked her why.
He turned, just a little, the tree still sitting on his shoulder. “Where do you want it?”
She pointed to the cleared-out space by the window. “Over there, if you don’t mind.”
He laughed, and she marveled at how he had enough breath to spare to do it so loudly. “I don’t mind,” he told her, repeating his earlier words. He strode over to the place she’d indicated and set the tree down, then straightened again and came back to where she was still standing in the entryway, admiring his strength. He was wearing baggy sweats, but even those hadn’t hidden the tight curve of his ass when he’d bent to drop the tree, or the power in his legs as he’d walked across the room.
“Well. Um, thanks so much.” She sounded breathless. Why was she breathless? He was the one who’d just hauled the tree around the building.
“Don’t mention it.” He nodded and held out a hand. “It was nice to meet you, Astrid Faber.”
“You too.” She slid her hand into his.
How was it possible for a man to make her feel like this with just a touch? Restless and aching and so desperate for something more than just his hand over hers—
His fingers tightened momentarily. “Actually, uh, this might seem a bit strange, but there’s a concert tomorrow at Berkeley. It’s outdoors, but it’s supposed to warm up a bit by then. I was thinking of going. Would you—that is, if you’re not doing anything else—would you like to come along?”
Her earlier disappointment was replaced with something that felt a little giddy and out of control. Was she really ready to start dating again? She supposed she would always be mourning the loss of her parents, but it had been a while…
She wasn’t sure, but he was so British about the way he’d asked her out. Solicitous and a bit apologetic. It was an approach that worked on her. She wasn’t so ignorant about herself that she didn’t realize that.
Maybe it would be okay. Maybe it was time. Besides, she also had no doubt that he was asking her out of pity, rather than any real interest. That Ah, that he’d spoken earlier, in response to her telling him that she was spending Christmas alone, had been too casual, like he’d been faking nonchalance so as not to spook her.
Rather twisted of her, that in the end she decided that she liked the way he’d handled it.
And she wanted to see him again. She wanted to touch him.
So she nodded. “That sounds great. I’d love to go.”
Chapter 2
Simon had been right. It had warmed up again overnight, though it was still pretty chilly to be having a concert outdoors. Astrid didn’t care that she was cold again, though.
She was sitting next to a gorgeous man, listening to an a cappella group kick some ass at traditional holiday songs, and laughing as Simon sang along, horribly off-key and completely unembarrassed about it.
She really liked him. He’d come upstairs and picked her up this afternoon, arriving on her doorstep with a bouquet of flowers, like this was an actual date instead of a chance pity excursion. He’d admired her tree, which she’d managed to put up in its stand and decorate with lights and all the ornaments she’d brought from her parents’ house after Mom had died.
In the car, they’d talked about the music they liked and she’d told him that being an accountant was a boring but very steady job, and steady was important to her. He’d just said, Ah, again, but she’d smiled at him that time, because it felt like he was saying something more like, I get you.
Or maybe that was wishful thinking.
She’d wanted to ask him what he did for a living, and how long he’d been in the U.S., but they’d arrived at the concert and he’d gotten all excited about the crowd and the songs and the way they’d decorated the amphitheater with holly wreaths and twinkling lights that made the place look like a fantasy come to life. They hadn’t spoken since, only because they’d somehow both understood that they didn’t need to.
But then the group started singing “O Come All Ye Faithful,” and Astrid closed her eyes against the wash of pain that flooded her body. That had been Mom’s favorite Christmas song.
Maybe she wasn’t ready to be out with a guy, after all. Having fun, enjoyin
g the holidays, making merry…she didn’t want to bring him down with these moments of sadness.
An arm settled over her shoulders and pulled her close, and her eyes fluttered open.
Simon looked down at her, pressed against his side. “Shall we leave?”
God, he was so sweet. So caring. How could a virtual stranger be so perfectly wonderful? She shook her head, her hair scraping against his coat. “I just need a minute.”
He was quiet as they listened to the song, and after it was over she lifted her head to meet his gaze. “Want to talk about it?” His voice was gentle.
She did want to. She wanted him to know what it was like for her, having been set adrift in the world to float her way somewhere safe, or die alone at sea. But she didn’t say anything. Instead, in an act of boldness that should have made her question her sanity, she stretched up…and kissed him.
* * * * *
He had soft lips and his mouth tasted like peppermint.
But more importantly, he didn’t pull away.
He kissed her so long and so fervently, until she was certain he wasn’t doing it out of pity, and when they finally did break apart, he asked, again, “Shall we leave?”
But this time he was breathless, and the words had a very different meaning.
This time, she nodded.
He stood, taking her hand and pulling her up alongside him, and then they picked their way out of the row of people, to the steps that led up to the exit. She liked that he didn’t rush, but instead held her hand and walked like he was enjoyed it as much as what was going to come next.
She liked the feel of his hand in hers.
She’d noticed, but not really thought about it before, that his hand was rough. Callused and hard, but he wasn’t a mechanic. He wore button-down shirts and khakis to work in the mornings and sometimes she’d seen him in a suit.
They reached his car and he opened the door for her. She waited until he was settled behind the wheel before asking him, “What do you do for work, anyway?”
He laughed like she’d wanted him, too. It was why she’d added that anyway to her question. Funny that they hadn’t talked about it already.
“I have a small startup with a couple of friends. We make wheelchairs.”
She wrinkled her nose in confusion. “Wheelchairs are a startup idea?”
He glanced over at her as they pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the highway. He was grinning, and he reached his arm over the seat and spread one big hand on her thigh. A surge of heat shot through her body, concentrating in that one spot where his fingers splayed over the fabric of her jeans.
“It’s actually more like software for wheelchairs. To make them smarter and more responsive so that the disabled can move about more easily in a world that’s not very well set up for them. But the software is integrated into a lightweight wheelchair design that we produce, as well. So sometimes I have to build an actual wheelchair and put the components together.”
He said it so reasonably that she almost believed he was doing something that was no big deal. But that wasn’t true.
“Wow. I—” she looked over at him, shaking her head in admiration. “That’s amazing. How did you get involved?”
His smile turned wry. “My sister has Parkinson’s. She doesn’t need a wheelchair yet, but she will, and I’d like to be a part of making her life as comfortable as possible.”
What would it be like to have a sibling who cared that much? She’d always wanted siblings, but her parents had already been in their fifties when they’d adopted her and they’d learned how difficult it was to raise a baby later in life. There had been no more children.
Simon cleared his throat. “Anyway. What about you? Why did you become an accountant?”
“I helped my parents a lot with their business. They used to own a hardware store in Ann Arbor, where I grew up. I kept the books and worked there in the summers, and I liked it. It felt like a nice way to be close to them. I think that just evolved into a career over time, even though I majored in biology in college, of all things.”
“Biology? You realize how hard it is for me to refrain from making a lurid joke about anatomy class, don’t you?”
She burst out laughing, any lingering seriousness gone. “I think you just made one despite your questionably honorable intentions.”
“Perhaps now is the time for me to confess that I’ve never been very smooth with the ladies.”
His lighthearted comment made her slide her hand on top of his. “Oh, I think you’re doing just fine.”
He squeezed her leg, those long fingers pressing into the soft skin of her inner thigh and making a pulse of arousal beat into her core.
She wanted him so much—had wanted him for so many months—that it was difficult to believe that they were actually going to be together. That they were together, in this moment.
She was enjoying it. Mom had been gone for thirteen months. Astrid had grieved for a long time.
But still, she wondered whether it was okay to enjoy something like that.
Yes. You wanted a happy Christmas, didn’t you? Can’t Simon be a part of that?
He pulled into their building’s garage and opened her door to help her out, but instead of immediately following him upstairs to his apartment she pulled him against her, leaning back on the car and guiding his lips down to hers.
Wow. The way he kissed…it lit her up so hot, so fast…every cell in her body was clamoring for more of him. More kisses. More touches. More skin.
His hands slipped under the open sides of her coat and down her back, holding her waist firmly for a second before sliding further down and cupping her ass, yanking her up against him.
“Oh.” She broke the kiss on a moan as the hard length of his erection rubbed between her legs. Even through the layers of clothing that they had on, she could feel how big and thick he was, and it was exciting her beyond her ability to bear.
“Too many clothes,” she murmured, tipping her head up and nibbling along his jawline.
It wasn’t a real sentence, but he got the point.
He released the hold he had on her ass and jerked his head toward the stairwell. “Let’s go upstairs.”
But before she could nod her assent, something beeped, loud and jarring in the otherwise deserted parking garage, and Simon froze.
“Shit.”
Uh oh. That didn’t sound good.
He pulled his phone from his back pocket and looked at it while she took a step back. “Everything okay?”
He groaned. Ran a hand through his hair. Blew out a long, harsh breath. “Astrid, I’m sorry. I—”
Oh, no.
She shook her head. “Please don’t apologize. You have to go, right? I understand.”
Intellectually, anyway. Her body was having a hard time getting the message.
He raised a hand, like he was going to touch her, but he dropped it and sighed. “We’ve got a big order that’s supposed to be fulfilled the first week of January, and apparently they found a bug in the software. It needs to be fixed right away and—well, yeah. I have to go.”
So much for hot sex with the hot Brit, Simon. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe she wasn’t ready, after all.
“No problem. I’ll let you get to it, then.” She started to back up, but before she could leave, he grabbed her to him and dropped a quick, rough kiss on her mouth. “I’ll come by as soon as I get a moment.”
“Okay. I get home from work around six and I’ve got Thursday and Friday off, so…”
She was talking too much. It didn’t matter.
For some strange reason, it felt like she was never going to see him again.
Crazy. Why was she thinking that? It was just a work emergency. Of course she’d see him again. Even if he didn’t come by again, they lived in the same building. They’d run into each other at some point, no matter how awkward it might be.
But as she waved him off and then turned to head up the stairs by herself,
she found herself thinking that she’d never felt more alone.
Chapter 3
She came home after work on Monday to a note stuck on her door.
Ended up at the office all night. Grabbing a quick nap and change of clothes before heading out again. I’ll come by once everything is sorted. –S
She allowed herself to smile at that. She’d been moping a little today, trying not to feel hurt that he hadn’t called, but then she’d realized they’d never exchanged phone numbers.
Why hadn’t he left his on the note? Or at least on a message in her mailbox?
It bothered her.
Maybe he’d come by the next day, though.
She went to bed with that hope in her dreams, but when she got home the next day from work, there was nothing. No note. No visit. He didn’t come by ten o’clock that night, and she finally resigned herself to the likelihood that he wasn’t going to come at all. Christmas was only a couple of days away. They hadn’t talked about it, but no doubt he had plans to do something fun with people he loved.
The lights of her tree twinkled in the living room and kept her company as she prepared for bed. What was this emotion she was struggling with? Until Saturday morning, she’d been fine, prepared to make this Christmas much better than last. Last year, Mom had been gone only six weeks when Christmas came around, and Astrid hadn’t been prepared. No tree, no Christmas meal, nowhere to go…she’d been so busy with the funeral and handling the estate that she hadn’t thought about making plans.
A few friends had approached her about coming home with them to celebrate, but she didn’t think it would be a good idea. She’d been too immersed in grief last year, and this year, she’d wanted to treat Christmas like a new beginning. Something perfect and beautiful just for her, that would allow her to ease back into life.
But she’d apparently been foolish to think that she’d be better off that way.
The thing was…she probably would have, if she hadn’t met Simon.
“Go to bed, you sad sack.” She said it to herself, angrily. She was a twenty-nine year old professional woman who was moping over a man!