Chapter Three
Evie
“I have no idea what I’m doing.” I stare at Marley, the owner of the bookstore, the woman who’s become one of my closest friends.
She’s wearing a smile, a blue sweater dress, and a long French braid with dried flowers tucked into the creases.
The woman is a perpetual ray of sunshine no matter what’s going on around her.
“This is fun.” She slides a stack of twenty-dollar bills into the old-style register then pushes the drawer closed. “Plus, you’ve got tons of eyes on the store now. Everyone in town is talking about this Santa auction.”
I glance around the store at the twinkling lights, the greenery strung from shelf to shelf, and the candy canes on the tree.
It’s cozy, it’s magic, and it’s hanging on by a thread, but Marley is as cool and composed as can be.
I’ve always envied that about her. Tess is like that too.
They’re the kind of women that don’t unravel, at least not in public.
Me, I’ll have a breakdown pretty much anywhere, then I’ll spend hours stress-painting about it.
Sort of like I did last night after I somehow found the nerve to ask the big, massive, super-hot giant if he’d be a part of our Santa auction.
The paint by number barn soothed my nerves a little, but I’m nervous to see him again today.
I mean, what was I thinking? He’s clearly not from around here, I did zero vetting on him, and he looks like the kind of guy who’d murder someone with an axe and not feel any guilt about it.
Why did I ask him to be Santa? Is it because he had a white beard? Lots of dudes have white beards.
I know why… because I wanted to talk to him, and I needed a reason.
Marley disappears into her office as a small gaggle of thirsty women comes into the shop.
Tess is behind them, wearing all black with a little gold bow pinned to her chest. It’s not bookstore attire, but I think she prefers to look like she just walked off a runway somewhere. I blame it on her city roots.
“I grabbed the altered suit at the seamstress shop on my way over. She said she did the best she could, but without actual measurements,” Tess smirks, “I doubt it’s going to fit him. That man was huge.”
“Okay,” I say, twisting back toward the bidding cards I’m gluing together. “We have five men and sixty women. We should make some decent money tonight for the store.”
“But that doesn’t solve the part where you have no date to your sister’s wedding. Maybe you should bid.”
The corner of the bidding card sticks to my thumb as the women take their seats behind me at the bidding area. “Yeah right. I’ve got bills to pay. Besides, I’m not going to buy a date for my sister’s wedding. Everyone in town will know I’m with hot Santa. That’s embarrassing.”
Tess smirks. “No one will know who won. Just you, me, and sixty of our closest mountain friends.”
“Exactly.” I sigh and glue another popsicle stick onto the festive red cards I spent last night printing. “My mom will smell a fake a mile away. Plus, she keeps up with everything in town. I’m sure she knows about the auction.”
“Okay.” Tess lifts a brow playfully and tips her coffee mug up, taking a long, dramatic sip before speaking. “So, let someone else bid on him. Maybe some Christmas magic will happen.”
I glare at my friend and stuff down the memories of the sick dreams I had last night while twisting the top back onto the glue stick. “Don’t. I don’t need a date to the wedding. I’ve decided it’s time I’m more like you and Marley.”
Her brows narrow. “What’s that mean?”
“Nothing bad. I just meant that I want to be more independent. I don’t need a date to duck and cover behind. I can handle my family just fine on my own.”
“No offense, but last family event, you called me crying from the bathroom of the diner. I had to bring tissues and coax you out with a box full of puppies.”
I glare at her playfully. “You did not bring a box full of puppies.”
“I thought I was going to have to get one, though. You were inconsolable. I’m independent, sure, but if my mother were like yours, I’d definitely bring a big, hot dude to strut around with, just to mess with them all. I mean, your mom compared you to expiring milk.”
I’d buried that one deep. “She—”
“She’s insane, and there’s nothing wrong with you wanting a little boost of man candy next to you while you manage all their shit. So, if someone you love happens to bid on a big, hunky man tonight, consider it an early Christmas gift, okay?”
I narrow my eyes. “Tess…”
She pops a peppermint into her mouth. “Evie…”
We’re barely through with our standoff when our first hot Santa walks in.
It’s Greg, our town dentist. He waves awkwardly and grins wide, heading toward the refreshment table in the back where the bowl of walnuts and Christmas cookies sits waiting.
Behind him are two town firefighters and a single dad I met at the grocery store last week.
I judged them harshly earlier. They’re good looking guys.
All hard-working and handsome in their own way.
“I’ll go get them their costumes.” Tess grins. “You keep an on eye on the door for your date.”
I give Tess a quick glare then go back to pretending to organize the bidding flags, my stomach tightening with every passerby outside that’s not Nick.
What if he doesn’t show up? I didn’t even get his number. Then again, maybe it’s better if he doesn’t. He could be a complete lunatic, a serial killer, one of those guys that takes weird pictures of women in the bathroom.
I laugh at the musings of my crazy brain as I collect the bidding cards and check my phone. It’s nearly seven. He’s probably not going to show. It’s probably for the best.
A man like Nick likely gets offers from so many women. Probably beautiful women. The kind of women that wear the red dress with the slit up the side, not the chicken sweater. The kind of women that make a fuss about their hair and makeup, and make sure their nails look perfectly perfect.
I’m not that girl. I’ll never be that girl.
I turn away from the door and head back toward the snack table to greet the men that actually showed when I hear a jingle and a whoosh of air.
I turn, heart thudding. It’s like a scene from a movie. One where every person stops to notice the giant standing in the doorway in a leather jacket with snow-dusted shoulders.
He’s here! He actually came!
I need to play it cool. Act thankful, but not overly thankful. Interested, but not too interested.
Swallowing hard, I straighten my sweater and walk toward him, trying not to combust as the filthy dreams I had about this very large man come filtering back into my frontal lobe.
“Hey,” I say, landing my hand on my hip in the coolest way possible. “What’s up? I mean… hey, thanks for coming. You have a good day?”
What the actual hell?
The man bites back a grin. “Yeah, productive. You?”
Productive? What does that mean? Did he productively murder a family of five and bury them out near the river, or did he successfully take enough weirdo bathroom pics to sell online?
I blink, attempting to reset my train of thought. “Ugh, it was super productive. I glued some things, panicked a little, ate a few Christmas cookies, and threatened to cancel the auction at least three times.”
“Sounds intense.” His grin twitches wider, and I’m two licks of a candy cane away from asking him where he buried the family he just murdered when Tess takes to the mic and starts addressing the crowd of women that are getting antsy up front.
“Oh, your suit is set up in the back closet. I can take you to get changed.”
He follows me through the crowd of staring bidders, his footsteps heavy like they mean business. I’ve never been around anyone like him before. Sure, he’s big, but he’s also got this energy. This brooding masculinity that feels like a magnet drawing me in.
Angler fish draw things in too, and then they kill them.
I need to get a grip.
“Here we are,” I say, twisting back toward him, trying not to make too much eye contact. “You can change in here. If it doesn’t fit, your flannel will be just fine. Maybe just throw the hat on or something.”
He nods and steps past me into the broom closet, dwarfing the space immediately. I didn’t think that one through.
Thankfully, the door closes. I hear a few things bang behind it, but my heart is banging harder, so I run for an escape and head toward Tess, who’s announcing the men one by one on stage. She catches my gaze as I approach, but her focus stays on the crowd with a bright, theatrical tone.
“Our last bachelor is getting dressed, folks. I’m about to hand the mic over to tonight’s emcee and the organizer of this event… Evie Maxwell. Remember, all of tonight’s proceeds go directly into the Chestnut Lane Bookstore.”
The crowd erupts in a few dramatic hoots. I want to duck under the table and eat cookies until this is over. I’m not a performer, not like Tess. I’m the girl in the background, the one gluing things and having sick fantasies. The one with good intentions.
I can’t be her now, though. Now, I have to do what I have to do to save the bookstore!
Tess hands me the mic and smirks. “You ready for the chaos?”
“Absolutely not.” I straighten, eyes skimming past the rows of women all grinning with their paddles ready and toward the goliath of a man stepping out of the broom closet.
Holy shit!
His Santa pants are four inches too short, the red sleeves end well above his wrists, and the velvet fabric stretches across his shoulders as though it’s begging for mercy.
His jaw is set, and I can’t tell if he’s angry or if this is his normal everyday expression.
He steps forward through the crowd slowly, his massive frame squeezing through the narrow aisle between folding chairs and twinkling lights.
Silence.
Silence and gasps.
I grip the mic tighter, trying not to notice what everyone else is noticing. The bulge in his red velvet pants is by far the most noticeable thing in the room.
He walks forward, like he’s done this before, like he’s completely comfortable, like maybe there’s even a flicker of amusement in his eyes.
I take back what I said about him being angry. He’s in his element. This man knows exactly what he’s doing. Who else would stride into a room with a massive cock on display like that?
I almost hate him for it. Even though we barely know each other, we’ve barely had two conversations, and he’s doing me a favor, he should’ve saved the eggplant outline for me.
The crowd cheers and bidding cards start waving before I’ve had a chance to introduce him.
Of course they do. The man could fuck you in one room while making dinner in another. For most women, that’s the full package, literally.
Tess winks toward me, and for the first time since she mentioned she’d bid, I hope she meant it.
“Okay.” I clear my throat and try to focus on the job at hand. “We’re kicking off our holiday auction with this hunk of a man.” I gesture toward Nick. “He might not fit into his Santa costume, but something tells me he has other things to offer.”
The crowd cheers and the bids start rolling in.
“I’ve got fifty, do I hear seventy-five? Seventy-five… how about a hundred? Nick here has muscles for days, ladies.”
“Five hundred,” a woman says from the back, and a shot of jealousy rushes through me.
She’s gorgeous. Like, insanely stunning.
Long blonde hair, tight waist, perfect tit to ass ratio.
I’d bet she’s the kind of girl Nick would go for.
Why wouldn’t he? He’s big, broad, muscular, and he’s swinging a dick that looks like it gets in the way when he bends his knee.
“Five fifty,” Tess holds up her paddle.
“Six hundred,” the woman says softly.
I grip the edge of the podium, trying to remain cool as I telepathically beg Tess to bid this woman straight out of the store.
A moment later, Tess bids. “One thousand dollars.”
I nearly choke. That’s more than my rent. More than my rent and my gas payment combined. More than I could ever pay her back for.
“Going once, going twice,” I lift the gavel and slam it down quickly before the blonde can bid again, “sold to the woman in black for one thousand dollars.”
Well… that just happened.