You Wish

Chapter 1

If there were two things that Georgia Warren could count on, it was her gingerbread architectural prowess and her position at the top of Santa’s Nice List. Only this year was different.

In fact, if Santa kept receipts, Georgia was pretty sure this year hers would come with a footnote, an asterisk, and possibly a legal disclaimer.

Sure, she’d helped her elderly neighbor bring in his groceries (nice), she’d also ‘accidentally’ slipped her ex’s cologne into the office Secret Santa (deliciously naughty).

Then there was the time she told Art from accounting he had the look of a man dodging alimony payments (naughty, but not entirely inaccurate).

She’d managed to secure a VIP pass, but had accidentally wrapped it in with one of the gifts she’d helped organize for The Wish Project’s holiday toy drive.

And since unwrapping a thousand and one boxes wasn’t possible in her time frame, nor was putting them all through an X-ray machine, Georgia had to get creative.

Because getting into that racetrack was imperative.

So there she was, a month before Christmas, dressed as an elf and infiltrating Santa’s posse.

But as Junior Wish Coordinator at The Wish Project, a non-profit that fulfilled wishes for special needs children all over the great state of Texas, Georgia was determined to do her job.

In fact, she had a PhD in wish fulfillment.

Not hers, mind you, but other people’s.

Getting through the guarded entrance was a breeze, but then she had to sneak into the paddock and make her way down the hall to the racers’ private rooms. Not just any racer, but Jake “Every Time” Evans, one of F1’s most popular drivers and Nova Motorsport’s lead racer.

And the man who shattered her heart nearly a decade ago.

But today wasn’t about the past. It was about Benjamin, a ten-year-old who lost out in the health lottery and was born with spina bifida, a condition where the baby’s spinal cord and spine weren’t formed correctly, sometimes leaving holes in their back.

Some people have minor instances that can be fixed with surgery.

Not Ben. His case was so severe it would eventually turn terminal.

Which was why she needed to make his Christmas wish come true.

Georgia had been standing for ten minutes in front of the paddock where the race cars were parked, waiting for the chaos of the race to die down.

With dozens of engineers and mechanics cheering over the second-place trophy, she’d had to bide her time—be prepared when the right moment presented itself.

Her brain was fuzzy from the smell of gasoline and motor oil, and her pits were sweaty with anticipation.

Then there was the green velvet hat that itched her head, her toes were permanently shaped into triangles from her pointy elf shoes, and every time she so much as breathed the jingle bells on her sack chimed.

Georgia pressed her back to the wall, peeking around the corner like she was casing a bank. She timed the rotation of the uniformed guard posted in front of Jake’s private changing room, then took a deep breath.

Three steps. Flash a smile. Improvise the rest.

The guard spotted her before she even made it past the velvet rope. “Restricted area, ma’am.”

Without missing a beat, she fluffed her hair and, in a honeyed voice infused with a sweet southern drawl said, “Oh, I know.”

“Then you’re going to have to leave.”

Adopting her best isn’t this silly? laugh, she placed a hand on his overstuffed chest. “And normally, I’d never dream of barging in. But I’ve been sent on a very important mission.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “From his grandmother. Joy. Have you met her?”

He straightened his shoulders. “Sure. Everyone knows Meemaw Joy. She brings me her hot pepper jelly whenever she comes.” Then his eyes narrowed. “But she’s in Texas.”

“Exactly, which is why she sent me,” Georgia replied, nodding brightly. “Who doesn’t love a singing telegram?”

“Singing telegram.”

Georgia did a little tap and jazz-hand routine.

The guard didn’t blink.

Alright, time to switch tactics.

Georgia stepped closer, lowering her voice to a warm purr. “Look, I’m not here to cause trouble. I just need two minutes with him. I promise—no autographs, no selfies, no throwing myself at his feet—”

“Throwing yourself at his feet?”

She winced. “Figure of speech. Mostly. Anyway, if anyone asks, you can just say you thought I was part of the Santa brigade spreading Christmas cheer to all his Nice List achievers.”

That got the tiniest flicker of a smirk from him.

“Santa brigade, huh?”

She tilted her head, giving him her best you’re in on the joke grin. “I can be very … morale boosting.”

He sighed, like this was the worst idea he’d had all day, but unclipped the rope. “Two minutes. If he throws you out, that’s on you.”

“Two minutes is all I need,” she said breezily, slipping past before he could reconsider.

As the door to Jake’s private changing room closed behind her, Georgia allowed herself one victorious breath. Only it caught in her throat, choking her. Because there, ten feet away, standing buck naked with a towel over one shoulder, was the man who had skipped out,on love—her love.

Since his back was to her, she took her time to absorb the view and his unforgettable, should-be-lethal, fine specimen of an ass that was on complete display for all the world to see.

Okay, not all the world. But it was definitely a highlight in her world.

That’s just hormones talking.

This was why a man-free diet was a bad idea. Okay, maybe her diet had become a drought. She hadn’t been on a date in over two years and sex was a distant memory. But the second she tell yourself she couldn’t have that slice of chocolate cake, someone dangles the whole thing in front of her.

“Athletes only,” he said over his shoulder.

“Your security guard said I could come back here.”

Jake slowly spun around. When he met her gaze, his face went slack. Her face went red. Because there he stood, the full monty, and her memory hadn’t done him justice. He was even more impressive than she remembered.

“My eyes are up here, Georgia,” he said, no amusement in his voice.

She dragged her gaze slowly up his body, she couldn’t help it, and when she met his beautiful blue gaze, his lip quirked for just a moment, showing a flash of the boy she remembered from the past, but it was quickly covered by indifference. Which was bullshit.

She was the one who deserved to be self-righteous, not him. Not the guy who sweet-talked her out of her virginity, then claimed she had too much baggage to go the distance.

He put his hand on his hips and Georgia slammed her eyes shut. “Ohmygod! Can you cover that?”

“It’s not like you haven’t seen it before.”

“I’ve seen college Jake not adult Jake.”

“That impressive, huh?” His voice was like velvet honey with a hint of country boy. And damn if she hadn’t taken a good long look and thought it had only gotten more impressive.

He stepped toward her like he owned all the space in the room—same as always—and sighed, his bare feet padding on the floor.

Holy shit, she forgot how tall he was. Her breath caught and her heart pounded out of her chest. He was so close she could smell his body wash. Then he reached her, pressing her back against the locker, his bare body a breath from hers.

He was going to kiss her. Oh my God, he was going to kiss her, and she wasn’t mad about it. “What are you doing?” she whispered hoarsely.

“I was reaching for a towel. What did you think I was doin’, darlin’?”

At the sound of her nickname, she felt one of her walls crack a little. It was a reminder of what they’d had. How he’d made her feel. How her body reacted had when they run into each other at a mutual friend’s wedding just a few month ago.

“Trying to annoy me,” she snapped and stepped aside. “Turn around and cover yourself.”

She shielded her eyes because closing them wasn’t enough to stop the image rushing through her vision. After the count of thirty, she opened her eyes again and squeaked. “You said you were grabbing a towel!”

“You didn’t specify the order. Shall I grab the towel or turn around?”

When she didn’t respond—her tongue stubbornly stuck to the roof of her mouth—he chuckled.

After a beat, he said, “Go ahead. You can open your eyes. I’m decent.”

She parted her fingers just enough to peek, then clamped them shut again. “Decent? Hardly.”

He was in faded blue jeans, low on his hips, bare-chested and barefoot, muscles gleaming.

His torso alone looked sculpted for battle—but the fleeting, accidental glimpse below, coupled with memories of long-ago nights, reminded her that what she saw above matched perfectly with what she remembered below. “You’re a little red. Happy to see me?”

“Trust me, if this wasn’t important or so dire I’d turn around and make a beeline for my car and forget this whole thing ever happened.”

But this wasn’t about her, this is about her foundation and a chance to raise enough money to float them for five years. And if she had an in that could help, then she’d swallow her dignity and make it happen. Kids were counting on her.

He pulled a shirt over his head in that way manly men did and it felt—deliberate. “Nice tights. Candy-cane stripes are a bold statement.”

“They’re festive,” she said, trying to ignore the fact that she was standing in front of him in a mini elf-skirt, fishnet candy-cane stockings, and a neckline that had been deemed “family-friendly” by exactly no one.

His eyes swept down and back up again, slow and unapologetic. “You sure this is a charity gig? ’Cause it’s looking a lot like lingerie with a Christmas complex.”

“It’s a costume,” she snapped. “For kids. You remember kids, right? The smaller humans you wave at during podium photos?”