Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
We’ve been sitting in the sleigh for the last hour.
Rudolph gives a disgruntled snort from the front, tossing his antlers as if to say get on with it already. His nose glows brighter, casting a soft red hue that flickers across Stetson’s jaw.
I smile. “Your lead reindeer has opinions.”
“He’s just impatient,” Stetson murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. “Can’t blame him.”
The sleigh jolts slightly as we crest a hill moving us a bit higher and to a different location from where we were just at.
The light from the North Star seems to stretch closer, painting everything in a glow so beautiful it aches.
I don’t know if it’s the altitude or the man sitting beside me, but something inside me finally loosens its grip.
I stop fighting it—the pull, the warmth, the way my heart keeps skipping whenever he looks at me.
His hand finds mine beneath the blanket again as the sleigh pulls to a gentle stop.
I realize now that it was snowing where we were.
Stetson leans in, brushing a kiss against the curve of my neck, I tilt toward him without thinking.
The sound of jingling bells fades; the rest of the world melts into snow and stars.
“I don’t know what this is anymore, it’s like you’re trying to make me forget time exists on purpose,” I whisper.
“Magic,” he says simply. His lips graze my skin, slow and reverent. “Or maybe we’re just creating it ourselves.”
He draws me in for another drugging kiss—slow, unhurried, the kind that steals time and gives it back in pieces.
The world narrows to the rhythm of his heartbeat under my palms, to the faint jingle of bells and the rise and fall of our breath in the cold.
Snow begins to fall, drifts lazily past us, catching in his hair, melting when it touches his skin.
I think the stars might actually be jealous.
Time means nothing here. There’s only the warmth of his arms, the solid weight of him beside me, the pull of something ancient and inevitable weaving through the space between us.
The sleigh keeps still, steady and sure, as if the reindeer themselves know not to interrupt whatever spell we’ve fallen under for the second time.
He presses his forehead to mine, his voice a whisper against the hush of winter. “You feel it too, don’t you?”
I nod, barely breathing. “It’s impossible not to.”
He smiles—soft, knowing, dangerous—and for the first time all night, I stop wondering where this ride will end. I just hold on.
An hour later after the hot chocolate is gone along with the cookies I finally ask. “Who decides what’s questionable in a man, I mean when it comes to your sister?” I can’t help but ask.
“Back to that, huh?” He laughs and puts an arm under his neck so he can peer down at me even more. His other arm is wrapped like a vine around my waist, holding my naked body close to his.
I wouldn’t want it any other way.
I trail my fingers along his muscled chest as I await his answer. I swear on all that’s holy like ten shooting stars race across the sky like they’re trying to make this moment even more romantic and intimate than it already is.
I couldn’t write this if I tried.
Nor have I ever read it in any of the books I’ve edited.
“That is a loaded question…” Stetson says slowly.
“I’m waiting,” I bat my eyelashes at him flirtatiously.
“I don’t want you to judge her,” he says almost defensively.
I burst out laughing.
“Judge her? She must be cool as shit if Santa made house rules because of her… she’s a rebel, I take it?”
“More than a rebel.” Stetson shakes his head and groans. “She’s the pain in my ass.”
Even though he groans, he says it with such love that I know they must have an awesome relationship. Like Ethan and me. If I had a dollar for every time that kid—yes, I still call him that—annoyed the living hell out of me I’d be a millionaire.
“You still haven’t defined questionable,” I remind him as I draw lazy circles along his pec muscles, damn, he eats like a horse and looks like this, it’s honestly not fair.
“If there was a country called, ‘Red Flag’ whose entire population consisted of men with ‘questionable’ characters, my sister would apply for citizenship.”
I burst out laughing. “Yup, we definitely need to become best friends right this minute, I would be right there with her, I mean with the guys I’ve—” my voice trails off.
From the look on his face I don’t think he finds it as funny as I do. Yeah, I need to stop talking.
Present company excluded, most of my past choices probably came from this mysterious country that Stetson’s speaking of as well.
“Frankly, my father and I find it mind boggling that she’s so bad at picking out men.”
My shoulders shake with uncontrollable laughter.
“Why is that?”
“She has uncanny propensity to choose a man with zero moral compass. At this point, we think it’s a gift.” I like this side of him, the stressed-out brother side. Leave it to Stetson to look more worried over his sister’s bad dating habits than a freaking polar bear orgy. Men.
I really do love his sister even more though. I’m already planning to meet her, befriend her, and plan happy hour with her.
“I’m happy you find this amusing.”
“I might have dated a few men from Red Flag as well,” I admit. “Bad boys are their own kind of irresistible and I dunno, sometimes a giant red flag is exciting.”
His eyes narrow into tiny slits. Uh oh, Santa’s heir just lost all his Christmas joy over that statement.
“I’d prefer if we don’t talk about what came before.” He grates out.
“Red happens to be in your future,” I reply with a wink trying to erase that frown of his.
From the way he’s still scowling I can tell he doesn’t like this new direction in our conversation. Even though the feminist side of me should push back, I kind of don’t want to. Because let’s be honest, it’s hot when a man that looks like this wants you to be only his.
And his alone.
And doesn’t want to hear about before…
Because maybe…
Just maybe…
He’s all that comes after.
Period.
After spending a few more amazing hours in Santa’s sleigh, we head back to the big man’s house. Luckily, he isn’t home, the kitchen looks like no one’s ever even used it—which is crazy considering that war zone it looked like when we left.
“This is unbelievable,” I look around in awe. “Is your dad a Virgo?”
“Ha,” Stetson finds this vastly amusing. “If by Virgo you mean type A, the answer would be no, he’s lucky he has so many people around him keeping his life intact.”
Huh.
So Santa’s unorganized. I guess it kind of tracks. I mean, jolly old St. Nick has too many other things to worry about in life. He’s giving kids toys around the globe, for heaven’s sake! I still can’t wait to ask Stetson how all that works.
“Hungry?” He asks me this as he takes a bite out of a frosted cupcake.
“It’s really astounding,” I mutter in disbelief.
“What is?” He chomps away.
“How much you eat,” I shake my head. “And all the sugar. Since you told me you’re mortal and all, it’s not that good for you mmm k?” I remind him. “The last thing you want is to have a heart attack on the sleigh.”
“I know, sweetheart,” he gives me a tender smile and my heart drops.
I love everything about that sentence and the way he says it.
“I only really eat this way over the holiday season.” He winks. “Cross my heart.”
“So you don’t touch sweets for eleven months out of the year?” I’ll never believe him if he says yes. If he says yes, he’s a liar and will always be a liar. This is the final test of whatever this is. The answer to this question.
He shrugs sheepishly then admits. “I may have a small, sweet tooth.”
“Define small?”
He says nothing but his eyes move to the pantry. I bolt before he can stop me and throw open the door—it is his house after all. “Holy Mother of God!”
He has me in his arms while I’m trying to kick at him to make my way through the door. It’s not just a normal person’s pantry. It’s the size of a bedroom, at least two thousand square feet and row and rows of candies and treats. “Stetson, baby, you have it alphabetized.”
“I like order!” He releases me with a pout.
“And cookies, you really like cookies, do you need them in every color and flavor? Asking for a friend.” I snatch a pack of Nutter Butters. “Guess you don’t have any nut allergies.”
“Put those back. They have a spot. Everything has a spot.”
I wave them above my head. “So, you have a minor addiction to sugar and what? A mild little issue with OCD?”
He flinches.
I grin and open the bag.
He gasps. “You opened the bag from the back you always open it from the front.”
“I’m a rule breaker. I break rules.” I tease and pop the cookie in my mouth. “You know how much better it tastes when you know you’re doing something wrong? Mmmmm,” I lick my lips. “Delicious.”
“Do that again.” He rasps. “I dare you.”
I lick my lips. He grabs me with one arm and tosses me onto the table in the middle. “I can only assume this is where you label and categorize your cookies, sir?”
“Shut up.” He devours me, not the cookie, in another kiss and tosses the bag to the ground. “Maybe I found another addiction. Another obsession?”
I giggle against his mouth. “I’ll be your sugar high any day.”
He groans. “If I kiss you again, I’ll never leave this pantry and we really do have things to get done, Christmas can’t survive without me you know.”
“You’re not Santa yet.” I point out.
“Hey, still a job, still have a role to play.” He pulls me off the table. “I can’t believe you opened it from the back of the package, it’s the lack of decency you know? The lack of respect for the Nutter Butter.”
I shake my head. “You’re cute when you’re mad. Don’t worry I wont tell anyone about the secret cookie pantry.”
“Good, because then I’d have to kill you. Don’t think Santa doesn’t have a dark side. We have dungeons.”
I feel my eyes light up. “Ooohhh tell me more, do you have chains, rope, Christmas tinsel?”