I didn’t care if we had a superior view of Manhattan’s Sixth Ave, I didn’t want to run on a treadmill. I’d pound the miles out on the pavement until there were icicles hanging off my damn nose. Or, for the next few days, whatever hiking trails I managed to climb.
Anything to push the blackness out of my brain.
“I have to get to the airport.”
“Your cabin upstate will still be there in a few hours, Lincoln.”
I curled my fingers over the leather arms. I knew my duties as the head of the family, and the head of our fucking company. The annual Christmas party had once been my favorite part of the year.
Once.
For the last three years, I’d escaped after saying Merry Christmas with a wave and a smile. Our employees didn’t give a rat’s ass if I walked around the room and glad-handed everyone while carrying a glass of spiked eggnog.
No, the only people who actually cared were my mother and Parker. Which was the only reason why I wasn’t in the air right now. I made an appearance, slapped on a tight smile, then got the fuck out.
I stood and pushed up the sleeves of my black cashmere sweater. No suit for me. I had a date with a bottle of whiskey and the lake for the next three days. It was Casual Fuck You Christmas for this Murdock.
A brisk knock on the door saved me from another lecture from my brother. I crossed to the door and opened it. The first thing I noticed was the short green skirt and striped red and white stockings on endless legs, ending in sky high boots in a deeper red shade. Boots
that definitely did not make me think of elves even if the rest of her outfit screamed Santa’s helper.
I immediately dragged my eyes up to her face. Too many years of sexual harassment protocols had been burned into my brain.
“Oh God.” Her summer blue eyes were huge and her blond hair had been plaited into girlish braids, but there was no mistaking that face. Or that body.
I saw the realization in her face as well.
I shoved my hands into my pockets. “So is this why you ran off last night? Had to get back to Santa’s workshop?”