All He Wants For Christmas by Kati Wilde

Author:Kati Wilde [Wilde, Kati]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kati Wilde
Published: 2017-12-22T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 10

Mia

Maybe there’s some irony that, to break my own pattern, I fall into the larger one of holiday consumerism. Actually, I don’t even ‘fall.’ That sounds like an accident, and I deliberately run toward it, embracing it with all my might. Thanksgiving was only yesterday, but I find an all-Christmas station on my car radio and turn it up, then sing along to the carols I know. I head to Home Depot and, after a workshop where I learn how to use a lathe, load up a shopping cart with decorations. Then I drive to the tree lot and pick out the tallest tree that I can drag around by myself, my heart bursting with the thrill of hope.

This year will be different. In every single way. Not because of these decorations or this tree, but because I’m finally free. And I’ve never been this happy.

At my apartment building, I wrestle the tall pine from the top of my car, thankful the twine binding the branches didn’t break on the drive home. Dragging the heavy tree across the snow and into the lobby is difficult enough. I’m out of breath by the time I reach the elevator—but still loving every second of this.

When the elevator opens on the third floor, I grip the base of the tree trunk in my gloved hands and start hauling it backwards down the hallway. My heart swells again when I hear a door swing open, then Cole’s laughing, “Holy shit, angel. That thing’s bigger than I am. Let me help you.”

I won’t say no. Especially since he shows up beside me wearing faded jeans and a T-shirt that clings to his arms and chest as if the fabric loves every inch of his skin.

But I have to warn him, “You might want to put on gloves first. I’ve got sap all over mine.”

“I’m sure I’ve had stickier shit on my hands,” he says dryly. “Give that over to me and go unlock your door.”

I do, taking a second to catch my breath and admire the flex of his thick biceps when he begins pulling the tree toward me.

My ogling doesn’t go unnoticed. “I thought it was my face you liked,” he tells me.

I do. Especially the day’s growth of stubble shadowing his jaw, lending him a disheveled, dangerous air. But I’m not ashamed to admit, “I like your arms, too.” And since he’s coming at me backwards, “And the way your jeans fit.”

“They won’t fit much longer if you keep talking like that. Where do you want this?”

I haven’t thought that far ahead. “Just drop it wherever. I’ll be right back—I need to run down and grab the tree stand.”

Along with everything else I bought. It takes four trips from my car to the elevator, and this time when I get to the third floor with my bags and boxes stacked all around me, Cole’s standing right there—wearing his boots and coat.

Relief is naked on his face when he sees me. “You and I have different definitions of ‘right back,’ angel.

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