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I glare at her. “You can’t be serious. I’m a tacky mess while everyone else is classy and sophisticated.”
Casey waves her hand in the air, dismissing my worries. “There’s an open bar. Everyone will be drunk in an hour and then no one will care.”
"I can't do this. I'm so embarrassed. You know I hate being the center of attention, and that's exactly what's going to happen if I stay. I'm already getting weird looks from people," I stage-whisper to her.
“Oh fuck them. Fuck everyone. You’re not here to impress people, you’re here to heal, baby!”
Dammit. She’s right. Wasn’t I just thinking that before I left?
Casey grins, knowing that she’s winning this argument.
“Come on, lady. Let’s get you some alcohol. I promise things will look better after a few drinks.” She doesn’t wait for my response, she just drags me along to the bar.
This is going to be a long and miserable night.
CHAPTERTWO
WYATT
“Why am I here again?” I grumble to Taylor, my best friend and the CFO of my real estate company.
“Because you own the fucking company and you’re paying a ridiculous amount of money on an open bar and free food for your employees.”
I grunt in response.
“And you’re a surly bastard who could use some holiday cheer,” he adds, nudging me in the ribs with his elbow.
“Holiday cheer. Right,” I snort. “More like holidaybrothel. What are my employees wearing?”
“Calm down, Wyatt. Don’t get your panties all in a bunch,” Taylor says in the most condescending way. If it were anyone else, I’d punch them. Or at the very least, walk away and ignore them completely. As it is, Taylor is my oldest friend, so he’s earned the right to give me shit.
I grumble some sort of acknowledgment before tossing back the rest of my whiskey.
“How much longer do I have to stay here?”
“Considering I’m the only person you’ve talked to, I’d say a bit longer. Come on, old man,” Taylor says, clapping me on the shoulder. “Do a lap around the room and meet ten new people. Then I’ll allow you to leave.”
I raise an eyebrow at him, letting him know I don’t appreciate him treating me like a goddamn child. The bastard grins at me and shoos me away, knowing that I’m going to do what he says.
I turn around and survey the room, trying to decide who my first target should be. Everyone sort of blends together, heightening my annoyance at having to be here and socialize.
And then I see her.
Dark brown hair cascades over her shoulders in long, silky waves that I want to run my fingers through. Even across the room, I can see her bright green eyes. Those full, pink lips of hers are practically begging me to taste them.
My eyes drift down the rest of her body, and what I find makes me smile. Like,actuallysmile for the first time in too damn long. She has on a hideous Christmas sweater and retro plaid pants. She’s the absolute opposite of everyone here, myself included. I have to talk to her.
Making my way through the crowd, I ignore the few people attempting to greet me. All of my attention is currently focused on my gorgeous Christmas angel.
The closer I get, the more beautiful she becomes. Her curves call to me and I have to make a real effort not to get a hard-on right here in the middle of the company Christmas party.
By the time I reach her, all words and thoughts leave my mind. She's not even looking at me, but I smell her shampoo, or maybe it's her body wash. Peaches and honey and something that I think is just her. It's intoxicating.
The woman she’s talking with sees me standing behind her friend and raises a skeptical eyebrow. Her eyes flit back and forth between me and my beautiful angel, and then a small grin forms on her face. I have a feeling she’ll be my wingwoman tonight.
“Oh,” the friend says. “Ember, this is Wyatt James, my boss. Well, my boss’ boss’ boss,” she says with a grin.
Ember. My chest tightens hearing her name for the first time. It’s fitting – I’m burning for her, consumed completely by her fire.
