Page 32 of Santa Baby

“How else would we get to the coffee shop?” She started to laugh, but she pinched her brows together. “Oh, yeah. Rex. Is he lurking around here somewhere?”

“No, I told him I’d call him if we needed him. You’re not that far from Park Avenue, so I figured we could walk.”

She hiked her purse over her shoulder and fixed me with a look. “You want to go shopping on Park Avenue for Christmas decorations?”

“Yeah, why not?”

She shrugged, turning for the door, which stuck as she yanked on the doorknob. “It’s your sad beige Christmas, not mine.”

An hour and two quad-shot vanilla lattes later, we were walking through a luxury home goods store, lost in a sea of white and beige. I glanced at Fia as she picked up random decorations, inspected them, and set them down with a sigh.

“You might have been right,” I gritted out.

“I know,” she breathed, throwing me a smart-ass look over her shoulder. “Are you ready for my ideas yet?”

“You haven’t even been to my apartment. You don’t know what it looks like.”

“You’ve never invited me to your apartment,” she shot back, smiling mischievously.

I shrugged. “It’s nothing personal. I rarely have guests.”

“Why? Are you hiding bodies up there in your tower?” She moved in on me. “Do you have copious amounts of cash in suitcases in the ceiling tiles you’re trying to hide from the feds? Are you Batman?”

“It’s just a regular man’s apartment.”

“So covered in dirty gym laundry and the only decoration is empty liquor bottles?”

“I’m thirty-five, Fia. The only liquor bottles I show off are from my distillery.”

She shrugged, brushing past me to inspect a blindingly white Christmas tree with gold ornaments. “This is terrible.” She flicked one of the ornaments. “What’s your apartment like?”

“Modern, sleek.” I explained the dark colors and layout of the space.

Fia looked back at me when I mentioned the sunken living room. “I’m imagining eighties.”

“Eighties?” I asked, frowning.

“Vivid purples, electric blues. Zappy decorations.”

“Zappy?” I shook my head. “Are we both speaking English?”

“You’ll see what I mean. Come on, we have to get out of here. My brain is melting from blandness.”

I let go of my further questions, deciding to trust the woman who was stealing my heart. She practically dragged me out of the store and onto the busy street. It had snowed again this morning, so the street and sidewalk were wet with fresh powder. It glimmered in the overcast sunlight reflecting off the buildings rising all around us. She pulled me into an antique store at one point, where we browsed dusty shelves and she stacked random items in my open arms.

We left the first shop with several bags and moved on to a thrift store that had entire racks dedicated to Christmas decorations. She loaded my arms with silver tinsel and handmade ornaments that followed no theme, and we left with even more bags.

By the time the sun was high in the sky, I finally convinced her to sit down for a minute.

Gianni’s Pizzeria wasn’t my favorite slice, but I had a gift certificate, after all.

“You’re coming over to help me do this, right?” I asked as I slid next to her in our booth, carrying two paper plates loaded with the greasiest pizza in New York.

“Thank you,” she said, eyes wide with excitement as she accepted a slice of pepperoni. I got the same, two Cokes, and a copious amount of napkins. “Unless you have other plans tonight, I would be honored to properly show you how it’s done.”

I watched her sip from her soda, her eyes holding mine. “This was my plan today. Spending the day with you. The day isn’t over yet.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “You don’t have a date lined up or anything?”