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I turned my face up to his and met his eyes with my own. "Yeah." I stretched up, and as gently as a whisper, pressed my lips to his. It was a brief touch, a test maybe. But it was also an invitation, and Callan accepted. His arms went around me, and he leaned down, taking my mouth with his own as the removed din of the square and the faint Christmas music in the distance faded, and a soft, welcome pleasure filled my mind.
Callan’s mouth was hot and insistent, and his tongue traced the seam of my lips until I parted them, and then pressed forward, teasing my own, and made me press myself nearer still. My body was lighting up, parts of me that had been in hibernation, draped in a blanket of self-doubt, stress and worry, pushed off the covers and sat up, looking around eagerly at this new situation.
A little moan escaped my lips, and Callan immediately pulled me closer, his arms tightening. Callan’s hand slipped beneath my coat, sliding up my back beneath my sweater, his firm warm palm hard against my back, and my mind reeled. I wanted him to touch me, to trace the lines of me, to kiss me like this and never stop. I didn’t care if there were consequences, I only cared that Callan Whitewood made me feel something I’d never felt before—not only when he kissed me, but just by being next to me.
I slid a leg over his lap so I was facing him, my hot center pressed against the erection I felt straining at the seam of his jeans, and I moved slowly, increasing the friction and feeling my breath coming faster. Callan’s hands were both on my back now, and my body was beginning to flare up as if it had been waiting for something, for this exact moment. With anticipation banishing all my doubts, I pressed my breasts against Callan’s hard chest, kissing him deeper, and light exploded against my closed eyelids.
Which was strange. I was close, but I wasn’t that close. I wondered for a split second if I was having a cardiac event or something. My heart was definitely racing. Was it just the kiss? The amazing connection?
Then I realized with horror that it was an actual light.
A spotlight, to be precise.
Callan reacted immediately, pulling me down to the bottom of the deep sleigh interior just as a voice boomed somewhere nearby over a microphone. "Welcome Singletree! Thanks for coming out to our annual tree lighting ceremony!" A blast of “Deck the Halls” followed this announcement as we exchanged a horrified look and my stomach twisted, churning over crab cakes and punchbowls and dread. "Please help me welcome Singletree's most honored resident…" there was a long pause and a drum roll as the sounds of a crowd roared into the once-quiet space of the sleigh. "Santa Claus!"
I sincerely hoped Santa didn't need his sleigh tonight. Callan and I climbed up to the edge of the door opening and peered out, and I was horrified to see the entire town gathered around the tree and the sleigh, and a huge man in a Santa suit striding directly toward us. "Incoming," Callan whispered as we both shrank back down to the floor of the sleigh, side by side.
"Welcome to Singletree, Santa," the announcer called out as a loud "ho ho ho" blared through the speakers. "If you'll just take your spot in the sleigh, you can light up our tree!"
"Oh god," I moaned from my huddle at the foot of the sleigh's interior. "God, I hate Christmas," I added.
This was it. My heart was in my throat as I realized I had done it again—made the exact same mistake all over again, this time in shades of red and green and coated with glitter instead of on a tropical island. But it was like I was acting in my very own version ofGroundhog Day, doomed to keep losing my job, doomed to keep making the same mistakes. My life was a disaster. I held my breath and waited for the moment to unspool, for my life to implode.
The entire sleigh rocked then with the weight of a very large man climbing the steps to get in. A moment later, Santa's face appeared, looking down at the couple doing our best to sink into the floorboards of the sleigh. "Ho ho ho!" Santa called out, grinning at us. "What have we here?" He asked this last part under his breath, and winked at us, and then turned his head up to face the crowd.
The guy had to be at least six-foot three, and he stood on the floorboards of the sleigh, his head and chest just popping out from the top. Which meant, if he kept our presence on the down low, we could stay there, hiding, and no one would be the wiser. I really hoped Santa was a decent guy.
The crowd was roaring around us, and I huddled in Callan’s arms. Part of me knew I should distance myself, move away from him and come up with whatever excuse I was going to give the huge man in the red suit when he asked. But my mind was blank, and there was comfort in those firm strong arms. I pressed my head into his shoulder and clung to him.
"It'll be okay," he murmured as I huddled, my life flashing through my mind on endless repeat, mistake after mistake. "And April?"
I pulled my head back to look at him, comforted by the assurance in his eyes, the way his mouth pulled into the tiniest of smiles.
"You can use my house."
Yes. I nearly jumped up and did a little victory dance, but then realized it might not matter. I’d just gotten what I wanted. Kind of. Callan's house would be in the show, so that was good. But in the meantime, I was on the brink of being discovered in the arms of the homeowner about to have his house featured on the show. Flashbacks toRun Away with Bridegroomwere flying through my mind, the cameras filming from a hidden alcove around the side of the building as the bridegroom and I had undressed one another on what I’d thought was a secluded beach under the moonlight.
Now here I was again, in the arms of an important part of my new show, about to be exposed by Santa Claus himself. If my hatred of Christmas hadn't yet been firmly cemented, that would definitely do it.
"Rudolph and I are so happy to see so many folks out tonight to celebrate the lighting of the tree! This town was built around this amazing tree, and we are honored to decorate it annually to pay tribute to this holy season of generosity and cheer."
"How can you hate a holy season of generosity and cheer?" Callan whispered, evidently figuring Santa already knew we were here so there was no point in staying silent.
"Shut. Up." I hissed. If anyone else discovered us here, the gossip would spread like moonshine on fire in this small town. And I’d lose my job again. And this time there'd be no second chances. Uncle Rob would probably disown me. Not that he owned her exactly, but the point was clear either way.
"We gather here every year to think about how we can join together as a town to make each other better, hold one another up. Look around you, at your friends and neighbors. Is anyone struggling this year? Is anyone facing a challenge you could help them handle? This is the best time of year, because it encourages us to step away from the churn of our daily lives and help to bolster those around us."
Callan's arms were still around me, and while I hated the thought of being discovered, I knew I’d be lying if I didn't admit that hiding here, huddled together, with his strong hard hands on my back, wasn't the worst thing in the world. And kissing him? Feeling those firm soft lips pressing and moving on mine all insistent and demanding? Well, parts of me were still high-fiving one another. But the pleasant buzz created by the kiss and the friction of our bodies pressed together—and two enormous bowls full of boozy punch—was wearing off and giving way to anxiety and fear. And to the familiar heaviness in my chest that got heavier every year around this time.
"He says that reindeer is Rudolph," Callan whispered as Santa went on talking about taking care of each other. "I didn't see a red nose."
"Maybe Rudolph's had a hard year," I suggested. "Got in a fight or two with those other asshole reindeer who wouldn't let him play games and whatever."
"No," Callan said. "They're all good now. It's cool."
"Yeah, now that he did the job they couldn't handle. But don't you think there's probably some resentment there? He's like Santa's favorite now, that's gotta get old. Those dudes hate him."
"Never really thought about that," Callan said, pulling away slightly so he could look me in the eye. "I bet you're right."
