Unwrapping the Best Man

From the moment she fell in my lap six years ago, all small and spunky, her laugh melodic, her easy persona a homing beacon to a man like me, so used to the cold, harsh realities of life. She had me.

And now I’ve lost her.

‘Hey, Black, can I get you a drink?’

I turn to see one of my long-standing clients, Max, approach.

‘Nah, I’m good, mate.’

‘You sure, because I seriously need to do something to thank you for this haven.’

My lips quirk. ‘That’s what your membership fee is for.’

‘I pay that for all-year-round fun, but it doesn’t go up in December and it should. This is a bloody oasis compared to the chaos out there.’

‘The chaos?’

‘It’s like Santa’s grotto everywhere you go, and I swear to God if I hear Wham just one more time...’ He makes a throttling action with his hands and I manage a tight laugh. ‘You need to add hotel rooms to your offering; you’d make a fortune. I’d camp out here for the whole month.’

‘Funny you should say that; I might have just the thing lined up for next year. Berlin suit you?’

‘Now you’re talking. I’d—’

‘Whoa, Mrs C, watch the hat!’

No, it can’t be.

But I’d know that voice anywhere and the tinkling giggle that follows it.

I’m not tuned in to Max any more. My eyes are on the blind corner that leads to the entrance, to where Cait’s voice is, all light and enticing... God, how I’ve missed that sound.

Max knows I’m not listening; his head is turning to follow my line of sight and then she’s there. She’s there and...oh, my—

Jesus H Christ. What the hell is she wearing?

From this distance she’s all stripes of white and green and skin—too much skin. White heels, green and white stockings, a green mini-skirt trimmed with white fluff, a wide gold-buckled belt that sits on her hips, her midriff bare... I swear my lungs are too tight to breathe. I drag my eyes up to the tiny corset that thrusts her breasts high, a red and white ribbon lacing it together tight, a halter strap that seems to push them ever tighter together.

She’s looking over her shoulder to talk to her companion and hasn’t spied me yet. I snap my mouth closed as I look back to Max, but I’ve no longer got his attention either.

‘Forget what I said, Black. If you want to go festive along those lines, I’m all for it...’

Not on my watch.

I’m already heading towards her, leaving a chuckling Max behind.

What are you doing? comes the inner growl of reason. You should be getting into that back office now, your apartment even... Anywhere but here...

But hell, it’s my club. I get to do what I want.

And right now there’s an elf looking far too appealing and far too merry to let out of my sight.

Merry fucking Christmas.

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘ASH IS GOING to flip.’ Coco sweeps the draped hood of her red velvet Sexy Claus number back from her head, its white fluffy trim cascading down her back and almost touching the matching fluffy band that runs along the bottom of the mini-dress.

‘You’re kidding, right?’ I dust off my elf hat after its run-in with the floor and Coco’s red boot, and secure it back on my head, shaking out my freshly curled hair from beneath. ‘He’s going to take one look at you, throw you over his shoulder and take you home caveman style. And don’t tell me you’re not going to love that!’