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I’m in Chicago. So is Ryker. If I want to see him before the year is over, if that’s what’s going to make me happy or ease my mind, then that is what I should do. That’s what I will do.
Just the resolve makes me feel better already.
“That’s better.” Nat pats my shoulder. “That’s my girl.”
I give her a grateful smile.
She gets off the couch. “So, shall I try on the next gown?”
“Yes, please.”
She puts up a finger. “Don’t worry. I’ll stick with the simpler ones from now on.”
I nod. “You do that.”
She heads back into the dressing room. As I wait for her to reappear, I take my phone out of my purse and stare at Ryker’s number.
No more waiting. I’m a doer, not a waiter. I’m going to do what I should have done in the first place.
Time to get myself a little holiday cheer.
And a bit of Ryker.
At the thought of him, I grin. I wonder what he’s doing right now.Chapter FourRyker
What am I doing?
I’m supposed to be working. That’s why I’m here at the office. I chose to come here to the office even though Ethan and Stella were both trying to convince me to take a vacation like they’re doing, even though Asher isn’t here. I bet he and Violet have taken off, too. I’m the only Hawthorne in this building right now, which means I have to act like a boss and pull enough weight.
So why am I not getting anything done?
There’s only one culprit—Claire Parker.
I see the box of chocolates on my desk, the one an employee gave me after the office Christmas party. I still haven’t opened it, but its red and green bow reminds me of the dress Claire wore to that Christmas party at the mansion. I glance out the window at the falling snow and I remember all the winters we spent together, including the one when I helped her make her first snowman. I close my eyes and I can see her as she is now, all grown up, kissing me under mistletoe. My phone beeps and I wonder if it’s a message from her, and when it’s not, I wonder if I should send her one, if I should call her, even if it’s just to wish her ‘Happy Holidays’.
Even without any prompting, like a while ago when I was alone in the elevator, I still find myself thinking of Claire, remembering the last time I saw her, imagining what she’s doing now. Joel mentioned that he and Natalie are spending New Year’s at Natalie’s parents’ house. What about Claire? Is she going with them? Or is she spending New Year’s Eve alone here in the city just like I’m planning to?
My eyebrows furrow as I suddenly get a thought. She’s not going to some bar or club and get drunk, is she? And then go home with some guy? I wish I could say she wouldn’t do such a thing, but Claire has always been independent in spite of Joel’s efforts to coddle her, and daring. A little reckless, maybe. I can totally see her doing it. And it bothers me. It stings.
Damn it.
I look at my phone again. A voice in my head tells me I should just call her and ask if she has plans for New Year’s Eve, ask her out if she doesn’t. But if I do, I’ll be the one she goes home with, and while I’m better than some random guy, I don’t trust myself not to act like any other man when I’m around a woman as attractive as her.
I look away from my phone. It’s too dangerous. I can’t risk it. I won’t.
Suddenly, my phone beeps. My heart jumps. I pick my phone up and look at the screen. It’s just Asher telling me he’s not coming to work for the next few days.
I figured.
Another message comes in at its heels.
Don’t be such a stick. Find yourself a reason to spend the remaining days of the year in bed.
That followed by a wink.
Typical Asher, I think as I set my phone aside. As always, I’ll just ignore him. He’s wrong, anyway. I’m not a stick in the mud. I travel, and not always for work. I drink with my brothers and sometimes alone at home. I go to parties. I’ve gone on dates. I’ve slept with a few women. I just don’t brag about them like Asher does.
Maybe I should find myself a date for New Year’s Eve just to take my mind off Claire?
Just then, I hear a knock on the door.
“What is it?” I ask.
Miller steps in. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Hawthorne, but there’s a woman down at the lobby looking for you.”
A woman? I give my assistant a puzzled look.
“Who?”
“She said her name was Claire Parker.”
