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“I can fix the door. Don’t worry,” she says, but when I turn back to her, she isn’t looking at the door. She’s staring at the window.
The Santa is gone. Damn, I think I tore it down when I went through the door. What else am I going to destroy today? “I’m sorry, Jocelyn.”
“I can fix it,” she says again and pulls my gigantic coat tighter around her small frame. The thing almost touches the ground, and the collar looks like there’s a giant bear arm wrapped around her. “I’ve got plenty of wood and putty. It’s just a door.”
“No, I mean—” I point to the window. “I think I killed Santa.”
Her eyes flick to mine, and the color drains from her face. “Wh-what did you say?”
I pull her to my chest again, even though she didn’t ask. Even though I’m afraid I could hurt her. Because in this moment, I can tell she needs me.
“What’s wrong, little bit?” I stroke her hair.
She snuggles closer.
Goddamn, that feels so good. No, not just good, fucking amazing. Jocelyn in my arms, holding on to me. This is what I’ve dreamed about for so long. Well, I suppose I didn’t dream about mauling her blowup Santa and tearing down her door—but the hug part, definitely.
“Nothing’s wrong. I just got a little scared.” She’s so small and delicate in my arms.
I want to lift her up and hug her, but I don’t want to spook her. “What scared you?”
“I …” Her words fade again.
If there’s a prowler, I’ll rip his head off. “Did you see someone?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.”
I sigh as another vicious breeze blows through the door. “Want to come to my place? I can make some hot chocolate, and Sylvester can—”
“Yes,” she answers quickly, and she turns a little toward her garage.
“Did you see someone in there?” I contemplate how easy it would be for me to kill a man with my bare hands and dispose of him in the strip of woods behind her house.
“No one’s in there. I’m just a little …” She shakes her head, then leans back and looks up at me with her big eyes. “Let’s just go to your place, okay?”
Does she have any idea how long I’ve waited to hear those words from her lips?
“Sure thing. I’ll keep you safe, Jocelyn. You don’t have to be scared. Not when I’m around.” I wrap my arm around her waist and guide her out of her house.
This is the opportunity I’ve wanted for so long, and I’m not going to waste it. Sylvester better put on his best kitty manners, and I’d better make the most delicious hot chocolate of my life—because this sort of magical chance doesn’t come around often.
6
JOCELYN
“He’s so sweet.” I pet Sylvester as he sits in my lap purring his little heart out. If I could purr, I’d likely be doing it right now. I can’t believe I’m over at Mac’s house. He pulled me close and held me in his massive arms. That alone might have been worth killing Santa.
“Suddenly, he's a lap cat,” I think I hear Mac say under his breath.
“What?” I ask.
“I hope you like extra marshmallows.” Mac turns around with a mug in his hand and places it on the table next to me. I jerk my eyes up from his thick, muscled thighs. I flush, hoping he missed me staring.
“Who doesn't like extra marshmallows?” I take a sip of the chocolatey goodness and let out a small moan. “This is wonderful.” Of course he can make killer hot chocolate. The man is perfect. I bet there isn't anything he can’t do. Except be small; there is no way he could manage that.
I lick my lips as I set the cup back down. Mac surprises me when he drops in front of me so that we’re eye level. Sylvester jumps from my lap. I lock my fingers together, but Mac grabs them, tangling his fingers with mine.
“You want to tell me what happened?”
I don’t know how he gets that deep voice of his to be soft, but he does.
“I’m not exactly sure. I think it may have been a bad dream?” What else could it have been? That has to be it. I must have fallen into a deep sleep and dreamt this whole thing up. Yet, that doesn’t explain the hat.
“Are you sure? I don’t think you’ve been napping.” He studies my face. How would he know if I was napping or not?
“It had to have been a dream. There was a man in my garage and—” Mac springs back up to his full height, towering over me.
“Drink your hot chocolate and stay in the house.” He’s on the move before I can grab him to stop him.
“What are you doing?”
He pulls out his phone, his fingers moving quickly across the screen.
