Stalking in a Winter Wonderland

“Okay,” I agree as we walk into the kitchen, and he pulls out a chair for me. “Do you mind if we go over a few things?” I reach for the clipboard I left inside when we went for our walk.

“A question for a question.” He smirks at me as he begins to move around the kitchen.

“I think you already learned a ton about me. There’s not much more.” When he walks over to where I’m sitting, he places a cherry 7 Up in front of me, catching me by surprise. It’s my favorite.

“I beg to differ.”

“My life is pretty simple,” I admit, taking a drink. “I went to college, lost my parents, and now I spend my days planning events so people can have the Christmas of their dreams.” In truth, though, it’s getting harder each year. The longing for a family of my own aches inside of me. The ache makes itself more known by the day, and I’m beginning to wonder what direction I want to go in.

“What’s your dream, Eve?”

My mind blanks. “I don’t really know, to be honest.” Dasher takes out everything for what looks like grilled cheese and soup. “I would be happy just to have family.”

Dasher stops what he’s doing for a moment but then continues as he thinks of another question.

“What is the one thing you always wanted for Christmas and never got?”

“A kitten.”

“You had that one ready to go.” He laughs and then slides a plate in front of me.

“My place is too small for one, and I’d feel guilty leaving a kitten at home all day. Take today, for instance. I hit the ground running when the sun came up and I won’t get back home until late tonight.” Dasher looks irritated at my response, or maybe I’m reading him wrong.

“You should eat.” He picks up a piece of grilled cheese and dips it into the soup.

“I’m starting to think this house is trying to lure me to stay,” I tease. “First with the roses, then with my favorite drink, and now you went and made one of my favorite meals. I make it at least twice a week.”

The way he’s looking at me now makes a little shiver of desire skate down my back. I shouldn't be doing this. This client is a big deal to Jewels, and this could get really messy.

I smile and then duck my chin as I do the same and eat my lunch. I let out a small moan as the taste explodes in my mouth.

“Three different cheeses is the key,” he tells me before I can ask him what he did to this sandwich.

Dasher’s heated eyes stay on me as he lifts his hand toward my face. I scoot back, forgetting I’m in a backless chair and begin to topple over. Thankfully Dasher saves me and helps me back in my seat.

“Are you okay?”

My face fills with heat. I’m as graceful as a baby giraffe at times. It’s why I don’t decorate. I point and plan or everything would be broken along with a few of my bones.

This time he brings his napkin to my face and wipes the edge of my lip where some of the soup must have stayed. The way he’s touching me and treating me is so tender, I get nervous.

“We can’t date,” I blurt out, and his eyebrows rise. “Not that you asked me to.” Why did I blurt that out? “I just mean it’s not a good idea with me working for you and really, I’m not your type.”

“Okay,” he says before his eyes leave me to go to his food.

Okay? Why does that feel so anticlimactic? He'd given me the okay as fast as I’d said kitten. I clearly misread what was going on, and oh God, I wish a hole would open up and swallow me.

I try to eat more of my food, but a knot forms in my stomach. Why am I upset? This is what I wanted, and he didn't correct me when I said I wasn’t his type. When I hear Rae’s little feet running into the kitchen, I’ve never been more thankful.

“You’re still here!” She runs over to me as I get off the chair and then I feel her arms hugging around my waist.

It catches me off guard, but she is the sweetest little thing. “I came up with more ideas.”

“Rae, the woman probably has enough on her plate.” Jillian shakes her head, but she’s smiling.

“It’s fine.” I grab my clipboard. “How about you help me check on everyone and we discuss these ideas while we do it?” I suggest.

“Do I need a clipboard too?” she asks, looking serious, and I fight a laugh.

“Of course. I have extras in my car.” I hold my hand out to her and she takes it. “Thanks for lunch, Dasher.”