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"You're in charge of a Christmas-themed show. Your job is to make sure houses are decorated to within an inch of their lives with all things red and green and glittery and magical. You can't hate Christmas music."
"I hate everything about Christmas," she moaned, finally moving her hands and giving me a look so miserable and sad I had no choice but to believe her words.
"I've never met anyone who hates the holidays," I said, thinking back and coming up blank. "April, why?"
She shook her head. "Don't ask."
I thought back to the strange look April had gotten when we decorated the tree, and her comments in Target. She didn’t just hate the holidays—something about Christmas must have really affected her. I wanted to know, but I didn’t want the evening to end, and I wasn’t going to push. "You don't have to tell me."
"Good. I don't talk about it."
"Okay." Now my curiosity was piqued. We ate and drank, the blaring Christmas music making it tough to talk anyway. April plowed through both her food and her drink, and though I had been worried that another drink might put her over the edge, the food seemed to have sobered April up a little. I felt better too, as I paid and helped her into her coat.
11
Thrasher, the Hard-Partying Reindeer
April
The night was brisk and bright as I pulled my coat closer around me. We stepped out onto the square, which was more crowded than I would have expected. Something about the milling crowd of townsfolk combined with two punchbowls full of god only knew what had me leaning into Callan’s side slightly as we walked, and he put his arm around me, keeping me there. Warmth grew between us, a cocoon of comfort even in the cold night air, and I stayed there, tucked against his side as we drew closer to the huge tree and the shiny red sleigh in the middle of the square.
I knew I should step away. I should thank him for dinner and head back to the inn, back to my quiet room. At least then I would be in control. This situation—this warmth and nearness to Callan’s firm hard body, the feeling I had that somehow we were closer in other ways too—this was a recipe for disaster. I’d been here before, kind of, though I hadn’t had this same sense of security at any point with the bachelor on my last show. With him it had been illicit excitement. The thrill of something taboo. This was not that. I didn’t know quite what this was, only that I didn’t have the strength to separate myself from it, at least not after two punchbowls full of moonshine.
"Thanks for dinner," I said.
"Sure," Callan said, tightening his arm around my waist just a little.
"Maybe we could just sit a minute?" I asked, nearly tripping as we approached the wonky reindeer once again.
Callan’s arm tightened around me more, keeping me upright, and we both looked around the square for somewhere to sit. There were people on all the benches, and no low walls or other obvious seating.
An idea flew into my head—an idea that probably wouldn’t rank high on the good idea meter. I moved toward the sleigh, and despite Callan’s quiet protests, I climbed into the back, making myself comfortable on the low cushioned bench.
“Come on,” I coaxed, stifling a hiccup. I wasn’t drunk, not exactly. But I was fuzzy enough that the little voice that would have told me what a terrible idea this was had been significantly muted.
“April,” Callan hissed from the ground outside. “Come out.”
I peeked back up over the side, loving the way he looked standing there staring up at me, his forehead furrowed, his dark eyes glittering in the dim light. “Come in,” I suggested.
Something in my voice must have changed his mind, because his face cleared and a moment later, he was clambering up the steps and climbing in next to me. Luckily, the bench was so low that our heads weren’t visible over the tall sides of the bright red sleigh, and we were hidden from the world inside it.
Inside the sleigh it was darker and quieter than it had been on the square, and it felt a little bit like we’d entered another world, a private space that was only ours.
We sat side by side, not saying anything, until I scooted close, right up next to Callan. Our thighs were touching and Callan put his arm over my shoulders, and I was suddenly conscious of every inch of him, every firm hard inch of his body.
"This is nice," I said in a soft voice, leaning into him and willing my mind to stay quiet, to let me enjoy the moment, even if it was happening in a sleigh.
"It is," he answered softly.
My mind was turning in slow motion, like the wheels in my head were moving through a landscape filled with cotton candy—or maybe the gears had gotten jammed up thanks to all the glitter they’d been exposed to recently. I knew the way my hand had fallen on Callan’s leg wasn’t quite innocent, and I knew the buzzing anticipation I felt humming through my blood was definitely not innocent.
When I turned my face up to look at him, my body reacted, unused and abandoned parts of me humming back to life at the connection I felt to those sad dark eyes. I ached to run my fingers along the hard planes of his chest, to trace that angular jaw. He was exotic and familiar, having been a part of my life for a long time in a way, standing guard over me on that billboard and playing in some of my fantasies, even before I’d known the actual man. Now here he was, and I could feel an opportunity arising between us, I just didn’t know what it was an opportunity for, exactly.
My gut was pressing me toward him, telling me to act on the fuzzy warm feelings I was developing for this lonely pained man. It was telling me that life and work were two separate things, and that I could keep them apart, compartmentalize if necessary. My head, on the other hand, was telling me completely different things, tossing out warnings and reminders of the last time I’d gotten too close to someone on a show. But those alarms were muted by my time in the shack with a bowl in front of me, and by the way I sat pressed up against Callan, our bodies forming a bubble of warmth in the cold night air.
I took a deep breath. "So," I said. "This is the part where I'm going to try to convince you."
Callan raised an eyebrow, his chin angling down toward me. "Oh yeah?"
