Skipping Christmas #3
“My bad.” He laughs and taps the box. “I can take it back to the store or you can have a seat and let me set it up for you.”
“I mean, I guess.” I playfully roll my eyes before I fall back on the couch and enjoy the show.
He works in efficient silence and has the tree up and shining in no time. It looks perfect in the corner by my windows, and so does he as he steps back and looks at his handiwork.
“There. What do you think?”
“I love it. How much do I owe you?”
“Nothing. Unless you still have some of those cookies you mentioned.”
“I do.” I hop off the couch and ignore the way it feels to have Micah following close behind me as we move into the kitchen. He doesn’t hesitate to wash his hands, which I appreciate. I grab the plate of cookies and show off my handiwork.
“You decorated these, didn’t you?” he asks as he grabs one of the elaborate snow globe cookies I spent way too much time on.
“I did, and I made the dough from scratch.”
He takes a bite and I feel that thrill of pride ’cause he’s clearly fighting a moan.
“Damn, these are good. You’re good,” he adds before he takes another bite.
I feel my face go hot. I’m happy to accept the compliment, but I need some clarity. “What do you mean?”
“I was on your account for a while last night. You’re talented. It’s impressive. I kept going back to all the Halloween nails you posted. For real. You’re good.”
“My mom thinks I’m wasting my time. Part of the reason I’m not going home. I’m doing pretty well for myself and I don’t need her trying to convince me I’m not.”
“What does she think you should be doing?”
“Taking over her salon back home. I moved out here to do hair for movies. She thought I was gonna meet some celebrity and become their main stylist, and she’d really have something to brag about.
I just wanted to do hair, but I’ve always done nails and lashes as a side hustle.
It was hard to break into the industry, so I did nails to support myself while I looked for movie work. ”
“It looks like it’s working out so far,” he adds, reaching for another cookie. It’s cute as hell the way he studies the plate before snatching up a frosted wreath.
“It is, and I do have celebrity clients. I just don’t tell her that.”
“My dad is still pissed that I didn’t make it to the league. I got one good concussion and decided I was done, but he thinks the paycheck was worth getting my brains scrambled. He wasn’t impressed when I started delivering packages.”
“Do you miss playing?” I ask, my mind making more sense of his amazing physique.
Micah shakes his head. “I needed time to figure out something I could be good at and something I actually want to do. I was good at football. I didn’t care about playing.
It’s why I’m excited about vet school. Treating animals, being there for their owners, that’s something I want and something I think I’d be good at. ”
“I think you will be too.” I think about stepping into a vet’s office with my injured dog or sick cat and coming face-to-face with Micah’s fine self. Animal and human would instantly feel better. I try to cover my snort of laughter, but it melts into a yawn. “Sorry.”
He leans over the sink and dusts a few crumbs from his fingertips. “Let me get out of here.”
“You’re good. I always take Mondays off. I don’t have to be up early.”
“What are you gonna do with your day off?” he asks.
You, I hope. “I’m definitely going to sleep in, and then I’m gonna take my Christmas tips from my clients and do some shopping for myself. There’s this bag I’ve been eyeing at the mall. You wanna come?” I say before I can stop myself.
“If you’ll let me take you out to dinner after.”
My whole body goes hot. There’s neighborly behavior, there’s even a little flirting, but I have to be sure this is what I think it is.
“Like a date?”
“Yeah, like a date.”
My cheeks get even hotter. “We can do that.”
“Cool. I’ll let you get some sleep and we can reconnect tomorrow.”
“Okay.” My voice sounds all light and giggly.
Micah gathers all the trash from the tree packing, and I send him off with two more cookies in packaging.
His arms are full, so we can’t dry hump or anything before he heads out the door, but he does lean down and kiss me on the cheek before he leaves me with a soft and sexy “good night.” Skipping the Christmas trip home might be my best move yet.
By the time we make it into the mall parking deck, it’s clear letting Micah drive was the way to go.
He’s clearly learned how to whip around heavy machinery after all those years and it’s kinda sexy watching as he smoothly navigates through all the holiday traffic.
I get to see that he keeps his truck clean and it smells so good, just like him.
He has good taste in music. He’s easy to talk to, and I can tell he’s okay with a comfortable silence too.
Nothing worse than a guy who can’t stop talking.
But he also has the patience of a saint and I tell him so.
“You’re better than me,” I say as we wait for an elderly couple to back out of a parking space, going exactly one millimeter an hour.
“Got a little road rage?” he says with a warm laugh. He swings into the vacant spot near the top of the parking lot. There’s so much traffic and the place is packed.
“I would have lost it back on Fairfax. Maybe the mall two days before Christmas was a bad idea.”
“Nah, we gotta get your bag.”
“Just so we’re clear. You’re along for the emotional support and your distractingly good looks. Not to buy me anything.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Distracting?”
“I mean, I plan on pulling a Christmas heist. I need a sexy accomplice.”
“Is that right? How can I help with your heist if I’m too busy looking at you?” he replies.
On the inside, I melt. “Well, I guess we’ll rob the place another time.”
Micah shakes his head, the corner of his mouth tipping up in a sexy smile. “Come on, kingpin.”
Micah comes around to the passenger side of the truck and opens my door.
I take his hand as he helps me down and decide to roll with it when he doesn’t let go until we make it to the crowded escalators.
He guides me in front of him, hands off but still close.
He sticks right behind me as we make our way through the mob-filled mall.
The whole place is decorated, string lights above leading from the parking structure to the Santa and reindeer that look like they are going to fly right into the marquee on the front of the movie theater.
The singing fountain is in full swing and spray, and Stevie Wonder’s voice fills the air.
I spot Santa’s Workshop set up about halfway down the outdoor mall.
The line is massive. Why wouldn’t it be?
It’s a little bit of chaos, but I still love it.
I almost turn to Micah to let him know, but we have to keep moving.
When we finally make it into the store, Micah follows me over to the first display. “Is it weird that I love this?” I say.
“The world of handbags? No, I think a lot of women like handbags.” He looks around like he’s seriously considering their choice of light fixtures.
“No.” I laugh. “I mean the holiday crush. The madness. I’ve been working so much, the baking is really the only Christmasy thing I’ve done. I miss the thrill of almost getting trampled while listening to ‘Jingle Bells.’ ”
“Good thing I made reservations for us to see Santa himself. You can tell him all about your holiday-themed step on me kink,” he says.
“You did?”
“I thought it was worth a try. I checked before we left and there was a spot available.” He double-checks the time on his phone. “In thirty minutes. You need more time to shop?”
“No,” I say, feeling a little breathless. My friends can be sweet and spontaneous, but this feels different. “I see the bag I want; it’s over there.”
“Okay. Well, we have time. Show me what’s good here. I’m used to diaper bags. Give me a fashion lesson.”
“Okay.” We make it two feet before a sales associate swoops in and offers their assistance.
I stake my claim on the caramel-brown pebbled leather shoulder bag that’s been calling my name for the last few months.
My new best friend, Jeffrey, has a fresh one brought down for me.
While we wait, I show Micah all the wallets and wristlets I’ve been eyeing as well.
“These are so cute, but a little pricey,” I say, showing him one of their most expensive bag charms, cute gold-plated teddy bear. I want it, I definitely deserve it, but I want to save some money for my sister’s St. Patrick’s Day trip.
Micah takes the bag charm out of my hand, testing the weight and looking at the price tag. “That’s a lot of gas money,” he says before he winks at me and gently hangs it back on the rack.
“Yup. I don’t need it. It’s just cute,” I say, just as the man who disappeared upstairs returns with my fresh, untouched, gorgeous new handbag.
We follow Jeffrey to the register kiosk, and Micah checks twice to make sure that I don’t want him to pay for my bag.
He doesn’t give me a hard time as we walk toward the exit, and I can’t stop smiling at the large shopping bag in my hand.
“Feel good?” he says.
I look up at him, grinning even wider. “I do. I worked hard for this.”
“I could see. The proof’s all over your Instagram.
Come on.” He takes my hand again and leads me back outside.
He doesn’t let go this time, and I think it’s for the best, considering that I’m practically floating.
I got my bag, and I’m with a real sexy—and, I’m starting to see, real thoughtful—man, and we’re on our way to see Santa. Things are pretty good.
The line moves quickly and I can’t help but cackle when Micah greets the mall Santa like they’re good friends and this old white man dressed like North Pole’s finest stands and daps Micah up like they are old football buddies.
“This beautiful lady must be Ashley.” The reservations really help keep the magic alive.
“That’s me.”