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A few moments later, Mac is back. I jump up from the chair as he walks in the front door.
“I didn't see anything. I checked the whole place.”
I bite my lip and look down. “I guess I’ll head ba—”
“Stay.”
I jerk my head up, and he’s right in front of me. For a big man, he sure can move without making a sound. “Whatever it was, it spooked you. You should stay until you calm down.” He wraps his arm around me, pulling me into his giant chest again. I nuzzle into him. My thoughts drift to how it would feel to have my cheek pressed against his bare chest.
“I would like to stay,” I admit. “Unless you’re busy. Or you have a date or something.” I’m glad he can’t see my face right now. I killed an imaginary man, but I’ve somehow looped back to him taking the girl’s number at the hardware store.
“Date?” I swear the one word comes out of him sounding like a bear said it. It rumbles through his body into mine. I peek up at him.
“Sometimes people date.”
“When did you date? And who did you date?” His body goes rigid. “I never saw anyone picking you up for these dates.”
“Maybe I met them at a restaurant?” I suggest. How would he know if someone picked me up or not? He’d have to be looking at my place all the time. Even if he was, he could have still missed someone. He doesn't respond, and the silence grows. Does he think I’m undateable? My stomach drops at that thought.
“I guess you could have done that.” His mouth has formed into a straight line. I have to look away from him, my eyes beginning to burn with unshed tears. Tonight is shaping up to be one of the worst nights of my life. I already killed Santa, and now my big bear man thinks I’m undateable. The possibility of someone asking me out on a date is too far-fetched for Mac to even comprehend.
“So you don’t have a date tonight that I’m interrupting?” I fumble out the words.
“No.”
“Oh, the girl at the hardware store was bragging about giving you her number. I’m sure you’re used to girls falling all over you.”
He stares down at me and blinks slowly. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
Ah ha! Just as I suspected, there are so many girls throwing themselves at him that he can’t even remember them. That thought sours my mood further.
“I should probably go home.” I try and step back but get nowhere with his arms wrapped around me.
“You haven't finished your hot chocolate.” His arms drop away from me, and I step back.
“I think maybe we should—” I stop talking when I see what’s hanging out of his pocket. The Santa hat. The evidence that I hadn’t dreamed up the jolly old man who was in my garage.
“Lil bit.” He clears the space I put between us.
“The hat. It belonged to the man I saw.” Mac follows my line of sight and looks down at his pocket. He pulls it out.
“I found it on the floor in your garage. I thought you might have dropped it getting out Christmas decorations.” He holds the hat out to me. I take it before settling back into the chair. Sylvester joins me in my lap.
“Okay. I’ll finish my hot chocolate,” I say, not knowing what to do. I could stay here with Mac and let myself fall deeper into my crush that will never amount to anything, or I could go home and face the ghost of Santa.
7
MAC
Maybe I should go check her place again. Just to be sure there isn’t anyone lurking in a closet or under a bed. Then again, I don’t want to leave Jocelyn by herself, especially when she’s acting so strange.
Why is she talking about me dating? I’m lost. I’ve never brought anyone home, or gone out with anyone, either. She’s the one claiming she goes out and meets strange men at restaurants or bars, or whatever.
“Whoa.” She gives me a concerned stare.
I glance down at my hands. My coffee cup, empty of hot chocolate, thankfully, lies in a heap of crumbled clay on the counter.
“You okay?”
