Page 9 of Elf-ish

She was right. I shouldn’t be at Ashford’s, but I didn’t have anywhere else to go. Lounging around my condo wasn’t an option. I was going stir crazy alone there. I needed to get out, be among people, even if it is a faceless crowd.

Imagine my surprise to find the woman with a wild mane of hair, glistening various shades of sienna and auburn, standing in a ray of sunlight shining down to the first floor of Ashford’s. Her eyes are blue, but everything opposite the color of mine. Hers are wide and expressive, telling me things I unfortunately cannot read. Their openness is welcoming, almost inviting, although I don’t have the foggiest idea what she would invite me to do for her. Other than be her one-time date.

And she was focused on that old ceiling, staring up at it with awe, like she’d never seen anything so beautiful.

What the hell does she see up there that I don’t?

I’ve looked at that domed glass a thousand times in my life. It wasn’t special.

“You mentioned you have a shopping list.” I clear my throat, swallowing down her initial rejection. The corner of my mouth ticks upward. “I could help you with that.”

Shopping isn’t my thing, although it’s how I’ve made a living. A lucrative living that’s afforded me a pricy condo on Lake Shore Drive, fancy sports cars, and lavish trips around the world, most of which I write off as a business expense.

Angelica glances at the phone in her hand.

I shouldn’t have grabbed her wrist, but I’d been desperate not to lose her again. She’d introduced herself yesterday, but I’d wanted to know more about her. Then Sabrina interrupted us. Eventually, a flustered nurse was able to tell me which firehouse Angelica worked for. The information wasn’t enough.

“What’s on the list?” I nod toward her phone, slowly releasing her wrist, which was warm and strong beneath my grip. Touching her was like holding my hand over a flame—dangerous while awe-inspiring.

“Just . . . things.”

I chuff. “Well, which things should we start with?” I square my shoulders, straighten my suit jacket, and nod again at the device holding her holiday wish list. I’m not a personal shopper, never have been, but I know this store like I know my name, and I’ll find her whatever she needs.

Hell, I’ll even look outside Ashford’s if we don’t have it.

Anything she wants, because something happened to me the other day. Something strange and unexplainable. Something rare and unfamiliar.

I feel . . . different.

Don’t you leave me, Jude.

The angelic whisper in my head causes my back to stiffen. Since Friday, I’ve been restless, anxious even, in a very unsettling way. Like something, or rather someone, is waiting on me, and I’m compelled to turn over a new leaf. A holly one for the season.

Which meant proving my worth to my board of directors.

The same board that’s questioning business trips and expensive dinners. The ones doubting my leadership ability because they question my morals. My behavior. My attention.

Did I even care about Ashford’s anymore?

Of course I cared. I’ve worked here since I was a teen.

I inherited the place when I was in my twenties, and I’ve devoted my entire life to it. Alone.

Without my great-grandfather dictating direction. Without my father by my side.

And I was fucking tired.

That was my explanation for what happened the other day. The near heart attack. I refuse to accept the doctor’s explanation of a broken heart. Stress cardiomyopathy.

I wasn’t stressed, dammit.

I glance at Angelica and take a calming breath. A breathing exercise a nurse instructed me to practice when my heart began to race and my skin grew clammy. A second episode was highly unlikely, she’d assured me. Still, the nurses made me practice the deep inhale and slow exhale, counting to four with each pass.

Concentrating on Angelica seemed to help.

Inhale. One, two, three, four freckles on the right cheek.

Exhale, one, two, three on the left. Oh wait, she has one near the corner of her mouth.