11. Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven
Gigi couldn’t pinpoint what spurred her decision to pull Harris close—there were too many reasons. Maybe it was his genuine interest in what made her tick. Or his caring nature that surfaced in the form of chicken-salad croissants and saving kittens. Perhaps it was how he always seemed to catch her whenever she stumbled. Or maybe it was simply the idea of being wrapped up in his strong arms and intoxicating scent.
All Gigi knew was that she couldn’t resist any longer. He’d shown her the real Harris—the man behind his stern exterior. And she wanted that man to kiss her.
Staring into his sea-glass eyes, catching the blues and greens that melded together, she was certain his appreciative gaze held the same unmet desire that crackled through her. Her body temperature was rising at record speed. Soon she’d need to fan herself.
But instead of leaning in and instigating her fantasy, Harris did the opposite. He grimaced and took a step back. The warmth of his hand disappeared from her waist, and disappointment washed over her in a wave, mingling with embarrassment.
“I—” she started, putting a hand on the counter to stabilize herself. She wanted to explain away the last few seconds, but Harris didn’t let her backpedal.
He crouched down quickly, capturing a rambunctious Rudy—who was climbing up Harris’s pant leg like Spiderman. “Ouch!” Harris gently peeled the kitten from his leg and held him up between the two of them. His orange ears flattened as though his evil plan was ruined.
Oh. The kitten. The grimace wasn’t meant for her. Thank God.
“You feisty little thing.” Gigi’s voice came out strained and a little too bright.
“Jealous cause we weren’t paying attention to you?” Harris asked the kitten, and Gigi forced a smile. She was thankful he’d stepped back because of cat claws, not because of her. Still, there was a palpable awkwardness now hanging in the air.
What had just happened? Would Harris have kissed her if Rudy hadn’t innocently interrupted? Or was she misreading him?
Regardless, the spell was broken. The moment lost. The warmth of Harris’s touch faded as quickly as it had come.
Wanting to erase the awkwardness, Gigi turned and went back to chopping the celery. “Almost done here.” She sang her words. “What’s the status on the broth?”
Harris cleared his throat and stepped over to the stove. “It’s simmering,” he replied, like they hadn’t just devoured each other with their eyes. Gigi took that as a cue.
“Perfect timing,” she said, referring to the broth, not the rampant feelings brewing inside her. Picking up the cutting board, she carried it to the pot and swiped in all the veggies. Then she added a dash of salt, put on the lid, and took a hefty sip of her wine.
“Can you point me to your bathroom?” She needed a few minutes to pull herself together.
“Just down the hall. First door on the right,” Harris replied, and Gigi retreated. Once she was behind a closed door, she yanked her phone from her pocket and immediately tapped out an SOS to her friends.
Gigi: I almost just kissed my boss.
In a matter of seconds, Paige and Alice came to her rescue.
Paige: I have so many questions. How did you ALMOST kiss your boss?
Alice: We need to FaceTime you...now!
Gigi: I can’t! I’m in his bathroom...
Paige: Again...SO MANY QUESTIONS!
Alice: In his bathroom? Like at his house??
Gigi: I couldn’t get an Uber. His place was a few blocks from the event. Now I’m snowed in at my boss’s house and we’re making Nonna’s Italian Penicillin.
Alice: OMG! You’re cooking together and watching the snow fall? No wonder you almost kissed!
Paige: Did you WANT him to kiss you??
Gigi’s fingers itched to respond with “yes!” immediately. She clenched them into a fist at the impulse.
Gigi: I think so. I don’t know. I mean . . . yes. But that’s crazy, right? He’s my boss. I can’t just go around kissing him! That’s such a bad idea . . . right? Someone tell me what to do!
Paige: Hmmm . . . I thought he was a grumpy grinch that was blowing up your life and didn’t understand women? If so, please don’t kiss him.
Gigi: I’ve gotten to know him better. He’s actually really sweet. And funny.
Plus, he’s dreamy, thoughtful, sexy, and has gotten his life together , Gigi thought, glancing around his guest bathroom. A fluffy hand towel was perfectly folded and hung. Charcoal-gray soap and lotion bottles complemented the accent tiles in the waterfall shower behind her. Reaching out, Gigi pulled open a sink drawer, searching for anything that would expose Harris’s downfalls. Instead, she found a tidy organization of miniature toiletries for guests.
Gigi froze, staring at the selection of toothpaste tubes and shampoos. Her last boyfriend’s bathroom had housed stinky towels and random, unmatched socks. Harris was a grown man with his life figured out.
Paige: Are you sure? The last few guys you dated were jerks. I don’t trust your man-radar. We need to meet him before you kiss him.
Alice: Kiss him . . . PLEASE! I want to hear all the details at Yappy Hour! You’re snowed in with Mr. Sea-Glass Eyes. Live your life! Somebody needs to! I’m watching reruns of Golden Girls and knitting a cat toy for Tux.
Gigi: You’re right.
Paige: Me or Alice?!
Alice: Get to kissing!!
Gigi: I don’t have the best guy-radar, and I’ve been in his bathroom for way too long! Better get going.
Paige: Keep us updated!
Alice: Kiss him, PLEASE!
With a sigh, Gigi stuffed her phone back in her pocket, unsure if she wanted to wrap herself around Harris or run out into the snowstorm. Paige’s comments reminded Gigi of her last relationship, and the disaster that had been. She’d been in love—or so she thought—with Keith. That was until he’d broken up with her on Valentine’s Day, leaving her alone at a fancy restaurant, amongst a sea of gushy couples. He’d also left her with the bill, after taking his meal to go.
He was a jerk. And she’d thought she loved that jerk.
In hindsight, she’d always made excuses for Keith. In their three-year relationship, they’d broken up twice, and he’d wormed his way back into her life with smooth words that never aligned with his actions. He’d stolen her time when it was convenient for him, and she didn’t see that until he broke her heart for the last time.
But that’s what love did, right? It blinded people to pitfalls. And Gigi wanted to see clearly. She couldn’t get wrapped up in some fantasy. Who was she kidding? She didn’t know Harris well enough to chance heartbreak. Or worse. She couldn’t risk the turmoil in her workplace. He was her boss. No matter how much she liked him . . .
There would be NO KISSING.
After walking back into the kitchen, Gigi went to the gorgeous, six-burner gas stovetop and stirred the fragrant, simmering soup. She turned the burner down to low and was going to clean up, but Harris had beat her to it. He’d washed the cutting board and knives. The island was wiped down.
“Want to watch a movie?” Harris stood between a lush beige couch and an ottoman, remote in hand. The massive TV, which hung on the wall, flickered as he clicked past news and commercials, hesitating when “White Christmas” streamed through the speakers. On the screen, Michael Bublé crooned into a microphone, backed by a band and stage.
Gigi’s heart raced at the thought of snuggling up on the couch with Harris, enjoying the Christmas special or watching a movie, but she quickly pushed the thought aside. Wanting to avoid another Harris-trance, she suggested the first thing that came to mind. “Actually, I was thinking we could decorate your house.”
He glanced at her, raising his eyebrows. “Decorate?”
“Yeah, you know, add a little Christmas cheer to your place,” Gigi replied, trying to sound casual. The soup needed an hour to simmer, and Gigi wanted something to do. Curling up on the couch with Harris sounded like the gateway drug to everything she was trying to avoid. “You’ve been so busy, you haven’t had time to get a tree or decorate. I can help with that.” His house was pristine, but Gigi had yet to discover a single holiday bauble. Maybe Harris hadn’t brought any decorations from his place in New York?
“I don’t usually decorate for Christmas,” Harris admitted. Muted TV light flickered across his face.
“What do you mean?” Gigi blinked at him, not understanding. Her apartment had been blasted with Christmas since the weekend after Thanksgiving. She looked forward to hauling out her red and green totes every year, which were filled to the brim with décor.
“It’s just me. I don’t really see the point in decorating.”
“Nonsense.” Gigi waved a hand at him. “Christmas makes everything better. Even if you’re the only one to enjoy it.” She sensed his hesitation, but pushed forward, determined to bring holiday cheer into his house and life. “Come on. You’ve got to have some decorations, right?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess I probably have a few things packed away.”
“Great!” Gigi clapped her hands together. “Point me in the direction!”
They made their way to a closet off the front hall, where Harris removed a few totes before pulling out a small, dusty cardboard box from the back of the closet.
“I don’t have much,” he warned as they walked back to the living room. He set the box on the ottoman, and Rudy bounced over to sniff as Harris opened the folded cardboard flaps.
Gigi peered inside, finding a few worn decorations—some tinsel, a string of lights, and a handful of ornaments. He wasn’t kidding when he said he didn’t have much.
“That’s perfect.” She smiled, pulling out a tangled bundle of lights. “We’ll make it work.”
Gigi walked over to the kitchen island, zoning in on an outlet on the side. As soon as she plugged in the string of lights, the colorful bulbs illuminated her hands. “Great! All the bulbs are still good! Now we just need to untangle them.” Setting the ball of lights on the island, Gigi tugged away, loosening the knot.
Harris joined her, plucking away as well. “I haven’t seen these in a long time.”
The lights looked old. Vintage. Gigi was surprised the bulbs still worked. “The multi-colored lights are my favorite. They just feel cozier than white, you know? It’s something about the tones.”
He smiled softly at her. “Yeah, I like them the best too.”
Between the two of them, the tight ball started to loosen, expanding into a mess of wire on the island.
Gigi bent over to get a better look at a stubborn knot. “What was your favorite gift you’ve ever gotten for Christmas?” she asked, trying to keep the conversation light.
Harris was quiet for a few beats, his fingers working on the green wire. “My favorite?”
“Yeah. What was your favorite, and why?”
“Probably a Lego set I got when I was twelve years old,” he replied, his voice tinged with nostalgia. It was enough to drag Gigi’s stare up. She caught the memory in his eyes. “It was a massive pirate ship. My brother and I had been begging for it all year.”
She smiled, picturing a young Harris eagerly tearing open the gift on Christmas morning.
“It took us an entire weekend to put it together,” he continued. “Our mom helped, too, in between making us peppermint hot chocolate, sugar cookies, and actual sustenance to fuel our work.”
Her grin widened. “That’s a very sweet memory.”
“It is.” Harris nodded, his gaze going back to the lights. “How about you? Do you have a favorite gift?”
Gigi threaded the lights through a loop, untying a major knot. “It’s similar to yours.” She spread the loose strand on the island before starting on the next cluster. “My sister and I got a beautiful dollhouse. It was secondhand from a thrift store in town, but to us, it was a dream house. We spent hours making up stories about the lives our dolls lived in that house. But mostly, it was my favorite gift because of the many memories made with my sister.”
“I love that.” Red, green, and yellow lights reflected across Harris’s fingers and sweater. They sparkled in his unguarded eyes.
“It’s not the gifts that make the season special, right?” she added. “It’s the time spent, and memories made with family and friends. That’s what makes Christmas special.”
“I agree.” Harris shifted his stance before tackling the last bundle. When that was undone, they spread the string of lights over the island.
“Where should we put these?” he asked.
“It’s a longer strand than I thought.” Gigi tapped her chin before completing a spin to check out the options. “How about we hang them around those windows?” She pointed past the couch. “We can drape them on the curtain rod.”
“I like it.” Harris unplugged the lights and gathered them into his arms.
“We could hang your ornaments from the lights too!” Gigi’s voice lifted with excitement at the idea. “That would be perfect!” She walked over to the ottoman and peered into the box, counting the ornaments. There were five—just enough to add some extra sparkle to the lights.
Harris joined her as she pulled out a snow globe. She gave it a gentle shake, and white flakes swirled around a miniature family building a snowman. The globe hung from a red velvet ribbon, and a string of white music notes were painted on the matching red base.
“This is beautiful,” Gigi breathed, admiring the delicate ornament as she turned it over in her hands, finding a tiny gold crank on the bottom. “Does it play music?”
“It used to.” Harris cleared his throat, moving the bundle of lights from one arm to the other. “It’s been broken since I was a kid, but it was my mom’s favorite ornament. I honestly can’t remember the song it used to play, but I vividly remember my mom winding it up each year when we decorated the tree. She’d dance with us boys while it played.” His voice was thick with emotion and Gigi studied his face, trying to decipher his reaction. She knew his father was remarried, but knew nothing of Harris and Dean’s mother.
“That’s really sweet. The globe holds special memories for you,” she concluded, before holding her tongue, giving Harris space to open up further if he wanted to.
“It does.” He caught her gaze. His thumb moved back and forth over the bundle of lights, like it was a worry stone. “My mother passed away when I was twelve. The Christmas we built the Lego ship was my last Christmas with her.”
Gigi sucked in a breath. Her heart sunk, and she set a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
A sad smile hitched one side of his lips. “That’s why I’m not a huge fan of Christmas. It was never the same without her.”
Her fingers slid down his arm, over his sweater, past the collection of bulbs and wire. She found his hand and clenched it, offering silent support for the tragedy he’d endured and the memories he held dear. The gesture eased the pain in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you to decorate.”
“It’s okay. You didn’t know,” he allowed, squeezing her hand back. “This is honestly the first Christmas I’ve enjoyed in a long time. Thanks for reminding me that there’s still happiness to be found in this season.” His sad smile went soft and genuine, stealing breath from Gigi’s lungs.
“Me?” she asked. Her heart wobbled. “I reminded you of that?”
Harris held her gaze, gratitude shining in his eyes. In that moment, Gigi felt their connection deepen, going beyond work and responsibilities. This vulnerable side of him, this raw honesty about his past, tugged at her heartstrings in a way she couldn’t ignore.
“Yes, you did,” he confirmed. “Your enthusiasm for Christmas, your persistence to get me involved in the activities, your willingness to share memories . . .” He shrugged. “It brought a lightness to my heart that I haven’t felt in a long time.”
Gigi’s cheeks flushed. She hadn’t expected her love of the holidays to affect him so deeply, especially since she’d initially forced it on him to make him uncomfortable. But it had done the opposite—it had eased his pain.
And now, all she wanted to do was douse him in Christmas cheer. To make him smile and laugh. To help him love the season all over again—just like she did.
“We need to put your mother’s ornament in a very special place.” Gigi held the snow globe delicately, wanting to honor the memory of the woman Harris loved and missed. “It needs to be seen and appreciated every single day.”