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“Sleep, my friend.”
I couldn’t get my tongue to work, which was probably a good thing. The last thing I wanted to do was blurt out that Santa was possibly the sexiest friend ever.
I put it down to my high temperature.
I was delirious.
That was it.
When I was thirty-three
2000
I rolled over. Kris lay beside me, facing the window, the long line of his body hidden beneath two comforters. I had to smile.Poor baby. He feels the cold.I listened to the rhythmic sound of his breathing—until I realized I could no longer hear it. I couldn’t hearanything.
That could mean only one thing.
I threw off the comforters, squirmed into my shorts, grabbed my robe, and headed for the door. As soon as I crossed the threshold into the living room, I caught that familiar scent.
He’s here.
I scanned the room, and found him gazing up at the tree.
“You found me.” I’d only moved into the apartment three months before.
He turned to me with a grin. “I can find anyone. Nice place, by the way.”
“Thanks.” I was still working on it, but it was starting to feel like home.
“Why aren’t you at your parents’ place? Was there no summons this year?”
I chuckled. “Things are a little hectic over there. Ben marries his girlfriend Layla in a week’s time, and the house is a mess. There are wedding presents, the cake is there… Feeding us all on Christmas Day was the last thing Mom needed. Plus, she wanted a little breathing space before the wedding.” I shook my head. “She bought three different outfits.”
He blinked. “I know it’s a New Year’s wedding, but won’t she be a little warm in all that clothing?”
I snorted at the mental image of my mom wearing three dresses, hats, and jackets. “I think she’s finally made her mind up which one she’ll wear.”
Santa returned his gaze to the tree. “Wow. This is beautiful. What did you do, take a course on Christmas tree trimming?”
I put my hands on my hips. “And just what are you implying? That I’m hopeless at trimming trees? Because that’s sure how it sounds.”
He held up both hands. “Hey, obviously that’s not what I’m saying. Didn’t I just tell you how beautiful it is? I am seriously impressed by your skills.”
Aw, crap.
“Why can I never lie to you?” I murmured. Then I sighed. “Look, it’s not my handiwork, okay?” I walked over to the sideboard, picked up a framed photo, and held it out to him. “It’s his.”
Santa gazed at the photo of me and Kris seated at the table, the Thanksgiving spread filling every inch of it. He arched his eyebrows. “Older guy, huh? What a shocker.”
I narrowed my gaze. “You know, you get more sarcastic with every year that passes.” Not that I was complaining. Ours had become a relaxed, comfortable relationship, and the fact that I felt free to speak my mind spoke volumes.
“So? Who is he?” Santa handed the photo back to me. “Is it serious?”
I gazed at it fondly. “His name is Kris. And yes, I think so.” Serious enough that my bed was now his.
“That’s awesome.”
I stared at him. “You want to try that again?”
