Page 42 of Once Upon A Christmas Song

“I love that story,” he told her.

Watching her soak up his attention was going to make me homicidal, so I hurried to my office. The door was closed, and I had to wait for Dawson to open it for me.

“Cami, go get your mother,” I ordered, and she bolted away.

“I like Cami. It sounds like she’s a fantastic cockblock.”

“She’s just possessive, like you. She wants everyone’s complete attention.”

“Not everyone’s. It sounds like we both just want yours.”

Setting the rabbit cage down on the catchall table to the left of the door, I shook my arms and tried to massage the knot in my shoulder.

Dawson put everything down and was there, quickly, taking hold of my shoulder with one hand and using the other to rub where it hurt.

“Knock it off,” I ordered but didn’t move.

“Just let me take care of you for a second, you stubborn shit.”

“Listen, you don’t get to—oh,” I moaned instinctively when he plastered his chest to my back and wrapped his arms around me.

“I’m sorry I’ve been gone,” he whispered into my nape, hands clutching at me. “But I’m here to stay, honey, I swear to God.”

“Chris, oh—well, that was fast,” Darcy said as she walked into the room.

“Nothing is fast,” I told her. “And I’m sorry I snapped at you, but the cage is fuckin’ heavy, and I carried it a long way.”

“From the car I saw you get out of?” she teased me as Dawson let me go, and I bent over to stretch my back.

“Yeah, but first from Cami’s classroom to the parking lot behind the school.”

Her eyes got wide as I straightened up. “Ohmygod, are you dying?”

“A little, but I’m still sorry.”

“It’s fine. Who is that woman out there chatting up Georgine and Xola?”

“Her name is Nicole Amsel. She’s a food blogger and⁠—”

“Oh, she’s The Picky Blackbird,” Darcy informed me. “She wrote a lot of lovely articles about Xo and me when we were in Vegas for the nationals.”

“Then go introduce yourself and send Georgine back here. I think Cami got lost.”

“Will do,” she said, glancing at Dawson on her way out.

“So, I have things to say,” Dawson apprised me as he transferred Cami’s gifts from the floor to my desk, making a neat pile.

“Didn’t you say them all already?” I pointed out, admiring the fluid movement of the man as he worked, thinking how good he looked all healthy and strong. I was a big fan of his broad shoulders and wide back. The tight jeans were very nice as well…

“Right?” Dawson asked, bringing me out of my reverie.

Shit.

He cackled. “You were checkin’ me out when you were supposed to be listening.”

“I was listening,” I groused.

“What’d I say, then?”