Chapter 7 #2
Lately though. I’d been starting to think I wanted more.
Hell, maybe Clara had felt that and that’s why she’d strayed.
I wasn’t even angry when she did it, not more than surface level mad.
Seeing my best friend make wedding plans and listening to him talk about his future with Charlotte, it had stirred something in me, but it wasn’t until last week that I actually put my finger on what it was I was suddenly longing for.
I wanted more from my love life than sexual satisfaction and someone who didn’t annoy me with too many expectations.
But what that was hadn’t been clear. Not until…
My thoughts halted instantly and as if my attention had been called by some invisible force my head turned toward the woman walking into the room.
Little Red.
I swallowed hard. She looked amazing dressed simply in a cream-colored cable-knit sweater and jeans.
Her hair, such a gorgeous coppery red, hung in long loose waves down her shoulders and back, and I didn’t know what my spa girls did, but her face was glowing.
Sweet, shy, and sexy as hell, a killer combo for any man suddenly contemplating his future.
And wasn’t that just it? I hadn’t started thinking of any of this until after my night with her.
That was insane though. We hadn’t even had a date. We’d had sex. Amazing sex, but what else did I know about her, other than she liked to be dominated and spanked in the bedroom, had a thing for Santa Claus, and that her O face could make a man fall to his knees?
I did know things about her though. Her brother, David, always talked about her.
It was my baby sister this, and my baby sister that…
And obviously, I knew they’d been orphaned.
Little Red had been raised by her older sister, Madeline and her husband Blake.
I knew that because it was part of David’s tragic story.
He almost didn’t get his MBA because he wanted to stay back and help Madeline raise Emily.
She refused to let him quit school though.
He’d been twenty-two, and Little Red was only ten.
I gathered a breath. Ten. Which made her twenty-nine years old. Twenty-nine was a far cry from forty-five. I’d already been driving when she was born. I’d already had sex, for fuck’s sake. I was a middle-aged man, and she was a vibrant young woman.
No, fuck that. I wasn’t going to turn myself into a grandpa because she was sixteen years younger than me. I was in the best shape of my life. I owned several resorts thanks to hard work, determination, and some very savvy investments.
I had started mowing lawns and shoveling driveways at twelve.
By sixteen, it was a small business with all the necessary equipment, and by the time I went off to college I had a landscaping and snow-removal business with twenty-plus employees.
I was nothing if not determined when it came to getting what I wanted.
And what I currently wanted was walking this way.
I stood, pulling out a chair for Emily as she came to the table. She smiled at me, albeit awkwardly, and sat.
“Hi everyone. Sorry I’m late. I broke the rules and checked my email. Ugh, regret. But there was something important from one of my charity clients that I had to deal with.”
“Don’t worry, you’re only the second to arrive, so everyone’s late,” Madeline said with a frown.
“Even me. I only arrived a few minutes before you.” Little Red’s eyes widened, and Madeline laughed.
“Right?” And she turned to me. “Those ladies at the spa can rub time away in more than one way. I feel ten years younger.” Madeline looked at her watch then.
“I only hire the best,” I replied as she turned to David.
“The wedding may not start on time, David. Even without the spa morning, getting these women moving is like herding cats.” She chuckled and someone mentioned my saying something similar, but I tuned them out.
As I pushed in Emily’s chair, the scent of her shampoo, something orange scented with a hint of spice, drew me in and I leaned down to whisper in her ear.
“Tardy girls end up over Santa’s knee.” I sat down in my chair as if I hadn’t spoken at all.
Emily’s head snapped in my direction and her cheeks flushed pink.
I winked at her and picked up a carafe to pour her some tea.
That was something else I knew about her.
Tea was her favorite choice of morning beverage.
I knew this because David always hunted down specialty teas for her when we travelled for the business.
She thanked me and then leaned toward me as everyone was still occupied by their conversation and said, “That’s a lot of women to go over Santa’s knee,” before returning to her proper position and nodding toward the entrance to the restaurant.
“Oh, look, the rest of the ladies are here.”
I narrowed my eyes on her. “I’m only concerned for one.” I did, however, rise and pull out a chair for the one other guest without a male partner at the table.
“We’re starving,” Charlotte said, picking up her mimosa and taking a sip.
“We ordered already,” David replied, kissing his bride on the cheek. “They’re serving various breakfast meats, three styles of eggs, toast, hash browns, waffles, pancakes, pastries, and fruit all family style on the table.”
I looked over and saw my serving crew carrying trays our way. “Oh look, it’s here.”
As everyone started serving themselves, I glanced at Little Red.
She was pouring milk into her tea, smirking. “I researched Sexy Santa Inc on YouTube the other night. You’ve got a very busy lap.” She reached for the honey from the basket in the middle of the table and her grin flattened.
“Is this Buzzing with Love village honey?” Her eyes shot to mine, excitement dancing in them.
“It is,” I replied, knowing it was one of the companies she designed promotional graphics for.
It was a group of older women, retired professionals, that lived homestead-style in off-grid tiny homes on acreage they’d purchased.
They rented other tiny homes on the property to single mothers trying to get back into the workforce after being stay-at-home moms. The rent was minimal, and they offered free childcare, as well as assistance with preparing themselves for the job market.
It was a great charity and when David told me about it, I’d instantly reached out and started using their honey in my Western Canadian resorts.
“I designed this,” she said, pointing at the little logo on the mini yellow glass honeypot. “The little honeypot was my idea too, but I didn’t think they used it. It was an added expense they weren’t sure about.”
Emily had a graphic design degree and worked as a Brand Specialist in a marketing firm, but she also ran a small business designing promotional graphics and branding for other small businesses, independent authors, and various non-profits like Buzzing with Love.
David told me that all her work with the nonprofits was volunteer though.
Beside Buzzing with Love village honey, she also worked for several animal rescues.
“They showed me the design with the mini pots last minute and I loved it. It’s just the sort of exclusive cutesy thing my guests go apeshit over. The mini pots are exclusive to my resorts, because I paid extra for the privilege,” I replied.
“Huh. So David told you about my work and he browbeat you into supporting my causes.” She put some scrambled eggs, a slice of toast, and some melon and berries onto her plate.
“He didn’t have to browbeat me. But he’s very proud of you and mentioned it, so I looked at your work. I was impressed,” I replied, filling my own plate with food.
“Are you going to start having pygmy goat yoga here too? I support a goat rescue as well. Or maybe a cat cafe? I have three cat rescues on my books. Oh, how about dog sledding? Because I do support a husky rescue as well,” she mocked, taking a bite of her eggs.
I chuckled. “All of those things sound awesome. Maybe we could talk more about business after the wedding.”
Her eyes widened. “I was teasing, Kristoffer. I don’t expect special treatment because you and my brother work together.”
“I know, but it wouldn’t be special treatment.
” I took a sip of my coffee, and she ate more of her eggs.
“I love your energy and some of those ideas are great ones. People these days, especially in big cities, are always looking to get away to small places with unique offerings. I love that you help these places.”
“Your charity work is pretty great, too,” she offered, taking a bite of toast. “Even if it’s kinda pervy.”
I grinned crookedly at her. “Boys will be boys.”
Her right brow arched. “I suppose girls will be girls too then, since Sexy Santa Inc has donated a significant amount in the last few years. You must be in high demand.”
I noted that she finished her eggs before eating her toast and hadn’t yet touched her fruit. I wondered if she always ate one thing at a time.
“We are. And this year we’re planning on adding naughty leprechauns for St Patrick’s Day, and bad boy bunnies for Easter. Bachelorette parties happen all year long and they’re the largest customer base.”
She bit the inside of her lip, keeping her smile at bay. “Really?”
“No.” I chuckled, touching her arm. “I was kidding.” Her eyes instantly locked onto mine. Something I could only describe as a zing shot through me.
“In that case you should consider tattooed turkeys for Thanksgiving,” she blurted with laughing eyes, and then her attention went to her plate, and I felt myself floundering at the weird sense of loss.
“Now that’s a good one,” I said grinning to shake off the lingering weirdness. “And I could hire you for some promotional graphics.”
She shrugged one shoulder, looking back to me with a serious expression even though our conversation was light-hearted. “I’d gladly work with you.”
She finished everything on her plate and picked up her tea, wrapping one hand around it as if she was warming herself with it.
“So, Kristoffer…” David spoke up. “Charlotte told me it was Sexy Santa Inc that did the bachelorette party.”
I glanced up at my best friend’s smirk and huffed a laugh. And then I tsked at his fiancée, leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms. “It was quite a surprise when I checked on these girls last night and found I recognized them.”
Emily rose then. “And that’s my cue to leave,” she said, her cheeks a bright shade of pink.
“Oh, no, Memmy. Tell your big brother how you ended up over my best friend, boss, and best man’s knee.”
I groaned. “Nope. There’s zero chance of that happening,” she said, flicking her red hair over her shoulder. “Thank you for brunch, but I’ve got to make some phone calls.” She waved over her shoulder and started walking. “Maybe I’ll see you at ice skating.”
“Better wear a helmet, Memmy,” Madeline said on a laugh, and I rose too.
“I have my own business to attend to. I’ll see you later.”