Chapter 2 #3
I stare at him. He’s massive, at least six two, probably more, with shoulders that look like they were built for tackling people.
The Santa suit is straining at the seams, white fur trim looking absurd against obvious muscle.
His hands—I remember how they felt, one in my hair, one on my waist—are definitely not mall-Santa hands.
They’re big, scarred across the knuckles, the hands of someone who works with them.
A laugh bubbles up from somewhere deep in my chest. I try to hold it back, but it’s impossible. It spills out, half hysteria, half genuine amusement.
“I’m sorry,” I gasp, pressing my hand to my mouth. “It’s just, you’re enormous. That suit barely fits. You look like you could snap someone in half. And you…” I stop myself, but he’s watching me with that smirk again.
“And I what?”
“Nothing.”
“Finish the sentence.”
“No.”
“Come on. I want to hear it.”
“Fine.” The whiskey is making me bold. “You kiss like you’ve done it a thousand times and knew exactly what you were doing.”
His smirk goes full wattage. “For the record, you kissed me first.”
“I was desperate.”
“You were phenomenal.” He says it simply, like it’s a fact. “That wasn’t desperation. That was… something else entirely.”
Heat crawls up my neck. “I shouldn’t have done that. That was completely inappropriate. You were doing my sister a favor, and I basically attacked you—”
“I’m not complaining.”
“You should be.”
“Trust me, I’m not.” He shifts slightly. I catch another wave of his scent, and part of me wants to press my face against his neck and inhale.
He’s quiet for a beat, studying me. “Want me to talk to your business partner, Scot?”
“Talk to him how?” I say. “Like, politely? Over cocoa? Or with your knuckles? Maybe throw him in a river? Or simply finish him and leave him tied to a pine tree?”
He actually laughs, a low sound that makes the room feel smaller. “All very viable options,” he says, amusement flickering across his face. “But I find subtlety usually works best.”
I picture a bounty hunter whispering and smiling politely while Scot clutches his pearls. “Right. Like a Hallmark special in which the handsome stranger gently explains boundaries.”
His grin goes predatory and very sincere. “Except I’m not in the business of gentle explanations. I’m in the business of results.”
My stomach does that stupid flutter thing. “How bad are we talking? One to ten?”
He leans in, eyes flat and serious for a second. “Depends on how stupid he gets. Solid eight. Maybe nine if he insists on being dramatic.”
I snort. It comes out like a laugh. “He gets very dramatic when he drinks. He’s a ten at karaoke and a nine at terrible decisions.”
“Then definitely nine,” he says. “I prefer efficiency.”
“Same thing,” I say.
He tilts his head, amused. “Fair point.”
We both grin, and for a second, the panic lifts. He makes it feel likely that I can survive Scot.
But I should walk away and go hide in the kitchen until I stop vibrating.
His gaze slides over me, steady and unhurried. There is nothing soft in his eyes. He looks at people the way a wolf looks for exits. And somehow I feel safer standing next to him than I have all night.
“I know men like Scot,” he explains. “If you need help, you can contact me anytime,” he offers.
I study him, this stranger who just derailed my entire evening in the best and worst possible ways. There’s something about him that doesn’t quite fit the Santa costume, something rough and competent underneath the red velvet.
“Thanks. I’m Hannah Parker, by the way,” I finally say. “Though we’re way past introductions at this point.”
His laugh is rough, surprised. “Chris Merrick, from Evernight Retrieval Agency. And yeah, we definitely skipped a few steps.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“So,” he says, voice dropping low, intimate enough that I feel it under my ribs. “Any chance we get out of here? Real drinks instead of spiked cocoa.”
My pulse jumps.
Part of me, the responsible part, knows this is a terrible idea. I just met him. My career is currently smoldering in a dumpster behind the venue. This is absolutely not the moment to leave with a beautiful stranger who kisses like sin and smells like everything I did not know I wanted.
The other part of me, the part still trembling from that kiss, the part that is exhausted from holding everything together, screams yes.
“I can’t.” I check my watch because looking at him is too tempting. “This is my event. I need to stay until the end and make sure everything shuts down properly. Especially after causing that disaster.”
“That wasn’t you.”
“Semantics.” I glance back at him and immediately regret it. Those green eyes leave my stomach fluttering. “I have another ninety minutes before breakdown.”
“And you have to be here the whole time?” he asks.
“Unfortunately.” My throat tightens. “Please don’t leave. Not yet. I need a Santa for the gift-giving part.”
Something in him shifts. Not soft exactly… but focused. Like I just became a priority.
“Yeah,” he says quietly, the corner of his mouth lifting upward. “I’ll stay.”
“Really?”
“Santa sticks around until the party ends.” He cracks his knuckles. “Besides, someone needs to make sure that jackass doesn’t return.”
Heat moves through me in a slow wave. I should tell him I can handle it. That I don’t need protection and this is wildly inappropriate.
None of the words show up. All I can manage is “Thank you.”
His attention settles on me again, heavy and unhurried. He studies me like he’s deciding how far he’s willing to go. And the terrifying part is… I want to know the answer.
“Come on.” Chris nods toward the crowd. “Let’s get you back to work before people start wondering if Santa kidnapped the event planner.”
I huff a laugh, shaky. “That would make a hell of a headline.”
Without thinking, I touch his arm. Solid muscle under cheap felt. My fingers tingle. I drop my hand fast and pray he didn’t notice.
He did. His eyes cut to where I touched him, then back to my face, like he’s adding that detail to a list.
We move toward the main room. I try to pull my thoughts together before I drown in them. “I should get back,” I say. “Pretend everything is fine.”
He stares down at me. “I’ll be right here. If anything comes for you, it comes through me first.”
My breath stutters. That should scare me. Instead, it settles low in my stomach like heat curling under my ribs. I nod and force myself away, then weave through guests, smiling, adjusting decorations, checking on vendors.
At least on the outside.
Inside, everything is fraying.
Scot had been furious. I saw it in his eyes before he disappeared. If Scot tells his uncle lies about me, I will lose the partnership, the funding, trust in the industry. Everything I worked for.
I straighten a stack of brochures with shaking hands.
I kissed a stranger. One reckless move and everything is at risk.
There is no universe where this ends well.
I glance back across the room. Chris is still there. Watching me through the crowd, arms folded, like he already decided I belong under his protection.
I tell myself to look away. Focus. Work. Fix this. Make tonight flawless so the client has nothing to complain about. But my pulse won’t settle, and the truth slips in like a whisper I can’t silence.
I don’t know who he really is.
And worse… a dangerous, stupid part of me wants to find out.