Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Do I?
If it’s about what I think it’s about, then yes. A thousand times yes.
“I’m waiting with bated breath,” I say.
If possible, his eyes become even more slumberous, and he’s watching me like he wants to do all sorts of naughty things with me. My body flushes. He knows he’s got me all hot and bothered. Like any alpha apex predator, he likes this power.
And yeah, gotta admit, it’s kind of hot.
No. Scratch that. It’s really hot.
He gives me a little smile and shakes his head.
“Those things—the ones I’d like to do with you and for you—I prefer to just show you,” he says.
My heart stops and it’s nearly impossible for me to keep his gaze.
“Then what are the ‘other things’ you’re talking about?” I ask softly.
He turns away from me and looks out on the horizon, studying it for a long while before he responds.
“It’s complicated.”
Oh no.
“Is this where you tell me you’re in a relationship?” I ask in dread. Maybe that’s what the clause is about—a secret affair. One night only. His wife would never find out. I think I’m going to be sick and want off the reservation stat if this is the case.
He shakes his head.
“I don’t cheat.” He states vehemently. “If I’m unsatisfied with a woman, I end the relationship despite complications or entanglements. I don’t linger or waste anyone’s time. Weak men cheat.”
Stetson is the antithesis of weak.
The relief I feel from his words is staggering. My ex, who shall not be named, had no problem cheating. In fact, when I finally caught him, he was almost indignant in his defense, like cheating was something I’d have to get used to.
Even though Stetson’s a stranger, I believe him.
If he says he’s Santa, I believe him.
There’s something quite real about him. He speaks the truth. Hell, he told me he’s Santa’s descendent with no shame or artifice at all. He’s not a liar. I don’t know how I know this, but I do.
“Then tell me what’s complicated,” I ask him.
He takes a second.
“It’s about what happens when and if I find,” he pauses, then, “my one true love.”
Woah.
The silence between us is heavy. I wasn’t expecting this response—especially from someone like him. True love? This guy—this gorgeous specimen of a man is talking about true love?
I capture his gaze thinking he’s joking.
No. He looks serious as hell.
We’ve gone from the fact he thinks he’s Santa’s descendant to true love talk.
In my wildest imagination I’d never believe this would be the direction the conversation would head.
This is one of those surreal moments. Maybe I’m being a little judgy, but I’ve never heard a man say anything like this before in my life.
“What’s with that look?” he asks curiously.
I hate that I wear my feelings on my face. I can’t hide anything!
“True love?” I finally say. “What does that have to do with me? This is just a one-night thing.”
Silence again.
And tension.
Major tension that you can cut with a knife. The energy shifts around us into something I don’t even understand as he captures my gaze with his enigmatic one.
“I don’t know what it has to do with you,” he answers quietly, eyes hooded.
I don’t know why, but I hate that answer. And then…
“At least, not yet.”
Boom.
My chest heaves and suddenly I’m nervous.
Really nervous and something else… excited.
Like the kind of excited when you know something wonderful is going to happen.
Or when you’re about to get a gift. Kind of like how you felt as a child on Christmas Eve when you knew you were going to wake up to presents under the tree.
Slow down there, Charlie, I tell myself. You’ve gotten your hopes up before and you were plunged into the icy cold waters of disappointment.
Santa Claus? His descendent? True love?
This feels like a recipe for major disappointment, and maybe a visit with a psychologist.
“So what now?” I ask slowly, once I get a grip on my emotions.
Stetson has the audacity to give me a lazy smile before studying me some more. He looks amused—like my level of disbelief is crazy and everything he just told me is perfectly normal.
“You don’t believe me.”
For a second, I think about lying to him, but since he’s being so honest I might as well.
“No,” I shake my head sadly. “I don’t believe you.”
He folds his arms and watches me closely.
“What proof do you need?”
“Uh… I don’t know… maybe flying reindeer—which conveniently is not a possibility, or I don’t know seeing Santa’s village?” I shake my head at him. “Like a real workshop with elves and things?”
Like this could ever—
“I can’t deliver flying reindeer because as I said earlier, we use jets now.”
What the heck?
“Isn’t that convenient,” I nod like this is the most normal conversation in the world. I seriously still can’t even believe he responded to my flying reindeer comment.
He laughs.
“But I can deliver the village.”
It’s my turn to cock a brow.
“Really?” I lean back in my chair and cross my arms, studying him the way he’s studied me.
“Yes.”
“And where is said village?”
“Not far from here,” his voice has a bit of a challenge.
“Huh.”
“Would you like to see it?”
“Are you serious?”
“Quite.” He replies.
Santa’s village? No way. Now this I’d like to see.
“There’s nothing I’d like more,” I reply with a challenge.
This should be good.
“Then I’ll have Thomas bring your coat and some special gear to wear to prepare,” he says as he pulls out his cell phone and starts typing away.
“It’ll take us an hour to get there,” he tells me. “We’ll helicopter in.”
Of course we will.
“Sounds perfect,” I smile.
He returns my smile, his gaze all hooded and sexy and filled with promises of what’s to come, “oh, it will be.”
In an hour’s time I’ll know if he’s the most beautiful, tortured man I’ve ever met—or he’s honest to God, real life Santa Claus.
At this point, I don’t even know what I’m betting on.