Christmas Criminal

10. Nick

10

NICK

Saturday, December 14th

I have to keep my hands off of Noelle.

That's what I tell myself when I see her car turn into the high school parking lot and slowly head in my direction.

I spent most of my night trying to figure out ways we can actually help the community that don't leave us alone together. Because as tempting as it is to pull something out of my ass–mop the cafeteria, clean the bleachers, prepare pamphlets for the school play–I know that the second it's the two of us, every single one of my thoughts will be focused on the feel of her skin beneath my fingers. The way she moaned into my mouth when we kissed and hiked her knee up around my waist.

And I'm not sure I'll survive twenty hours of that.

She has a scarf high around her neck when she steps out of her car, an army green jacket covering her torso. She zips it up against the cold as she walks toward me, giving me a small wave as she starts up the stairs. I lean against the railing, my hands in my pockets so they don't magnetically attach to her hips.

"Good morning, Saint Nick," she says, a knowing smile skirting her face with the nickname.

There's no hiding what she does to me now.

"Criminal," I greet her, biting back my matching grin.

“So what delightful activity do you have planned for us today?” she asks. I detect a hint of subtext in her words, like she’s just daring me to say the naughty activities we could be doing if she wasn’t my criminal.

I smile, despite every muscle in my body itching to touch her. "We're heading back to the fair."

She raises her eyebrows and then narrows her eyes. "You seem too happy about this for it to be a fun thing."

My smile ticks wider. "Well, since I know how excited you are to serve your community, I asked around to see if anyone needed help with their booths this weekend."

She purses her lips, waiting for the catch.

"And Hank said he could use a few volunteers to help hand out fliers."

Her face drops. "Nick!" She stomps. "You have to be kidding me."

A grin spreads across my face now. "And you're going to love the fliers we're handing out."

She presses her lips together, her jaw ticking. "What are the fliers?"

"It's an after-school program held at the police station for troubled youths."

Her eyes bore into mine. "Nick."

"And I thought, who better to hand them out than our very own town criminal?"

I eye her, searching for signs of steam coming out of her ears or boiling skin.

"Is this your own personal brand of torture?" she asks.

"I'm so glad you're looking forward to it. I think this program is really going to bring positive change to our community."

She throws her hands out in front of her. "This town doesn't have troubled youths! Who the fuck is Hank trying to recruit?"

I shrug. "Honestly, I don't know. Hank is going to do what Hank is going to do. He seemed like he was at a bit of a loss when I asked him for suggestions for what to do with you."

She lets out a long breath as she takes a step closer to me, the front of her coat brushing against mine. "I could give you some other ideas of what you could do with me." She raises an eyebrow. "Or to me."

Fuuuuuck . My dick twitches. I know I should take a step back, stop her from getting any closer with that devilish tongue of hers.

But I like the proximity. I like that she wants me as badly as I want her.

It's intoxicating.

"Like what?" I ask, feigning innocence and cocking my head to the side. I keep my hands tucked in my pockets to stop myself from touching her.

She shrugs. "You could kiss me like you did last night. And then maybe just... see what happens after that."

"See what happens?"

She nods, biting her lip. "I think that might be a good use of our time. And I mean, teachers do so much for this little community of ours." She rests her hand on the front of my coat and I'm simultaneously angry and relieved that I can't feel her fingers on my chest. "It feels only right that we give a little something back. Make them feel good, too."

I nod, falling into her trap for only a moment. My job is hard. And sometimes it wears me down to the point where I wonder if I can keep it up forever.

And when I have dainty little brunettes smiling up at me like they want to rip my clothes off, I wonder whether a little bit of indulgence is really that terrible. This palpable tension between us could probably be solved with an afternoon between the sheets. I could throw her around a little bit, make her come on my face and again on my dick.

I've had what I thought was love, and losing it ripped out a piece of me.

And now Noelle has me thinking all sorts of inappropriate thoughts about her. While I tell myself it doesn't have to be a long term thing–that we can have some fun and continue on with our lives–I know that Noelle would stick in my mind and worm her way into my heart.

She hates this town. Wants nothing more than to be done with community service. And the second that happens, she'll be gone.

But maybe I'm getting ahead of myself here. I'm already reeling over my future heartbreak when the reality is, we'd have to explore something first to even get to the heartbreak.

All I have to go on is what I feel right now, and that is mind-bogglingly attracted to someone who really shouldn't inspire these sorts of feelings in me. I ultimately want someone to spend my life with–to spend this time of year with–but having Noelle standing one step below me, her hand on my chest and that snarky little grin on her face, makes me want to throw all of that out the window and show this woman a good time.

We just have to get through this weekend. And then... well, maybe something will happen between us.

Or maybe she'll run back to her little apartment with her sister that's three hours away and never come to this town again.

The thought inspires an ache in my chest that I brush away with a quick shake of my head.

"You don't want me to make you feel good?" she asks, her eyebrows crinkling.

I shut my eyes, resting my hand on top of hers and gently removing it from my chest. "Noelle, there is plenty that I want but can't have."

She purses her lips, quiet for a moment. "You can have me."

I take my glasses off–partially to obscure my view of her, pink cheeks and playful smile–and run my hand over my face.

"Noelle," I say, my voice cracking in a way that probably tells her exactly what I'm thinking about doing to her at this moment.

"Nick," she parries.

"Behave."

She bites her lip, a grin spreading across her face. "And what if I don't?"

"I will sign you up for more community service with Hank, handing out fliers that only get more and more cringeworthy."

Her nostrils flare. "Well, that's no fun." She crosses her arms over her chest. "I was thinking more along the lines of spanking. Maybe a little bit of edging. Those seem like appropriate punishments."

"It's not a punishment if you enjoy it."

She shrugs. "I promise I'll play my part well. 'Oh, Mr. Monroe, please don't leave chalk hand prints on my ass! Oh, Mr. Monroe, it's so uncomfortable to be bent over your desk like this,'" she mocks, clasping her hands over her chest.

What I wouldn't give for a stick of chalk right now.

Her eyebrows raise when I place my hands on her shoulders, but her face falls when I twist her and direct her toward the fair. "Hank is waiting for you."

The fair is as crowded today as it was yesterday, and as we weave through the crowds of people, I find myself nodding and smiling to a slew of parents and kids I've taught over the past few years. Noelle walks with her arms crossed over her chest, glancing up at me every once in a while with an eye roll when I greet yet another person.

"Are you the town sweetheart or something?" she asks me, when I finally spot Hank's booth in the distance, a banner attached to the front with Snow Falls' district number on it. "How the hell do you know everyone? "

"I taught everyone's kids. That's how."

She scoffs. "I bet they all loved you, too."

"As long as they don't love me like Delia."

She crinkles her nose. "Yeah, that was gross."

"You know, I meant to ask you," she says, turning to me. "You were going on and on about speaking your truth the other day, yet you were hiding under the table right there with me. What's the deal? Why don't you speak your truth to Delia?"

I eye Hank's booth in the distance–he's happily talking to someone across the table from him and doesn't seem pressed for help.

So I turn to Noelle and let out a long breath. "Delia is unique. She was president of the PTA and you either love her or you hate her. And I just… honestly, don't want to get mixed up in any of that. I don't want to take sides and I don't want to make enemies with someone so involved in my job."

"Didn't her daughter graduate?"

"Yes. And she's still everywhere I turn."

Noelle nods. "Have you told her you're not interested?"

"Yes, Noelle. I do practice what I preach." I shrug. "She does this thing where if you say something she doesn't like, she just kind of smiles at you. Like, she waits with this big grin on her face until you feel uncomfortable and then backtrack. So help me god, I know it's coming. I expect it. Yet she still gets me every time."

"So. She's a psychopath."

I laugh. "I don't know about that, but if you want to go ahead and get her committed somewhere, that'll be a great start."

"Maybe I can frame her for an egging."

I shake my head. "Noelle, you're just going to get yourself in trouble again."

She shrugs. "Maybe I'll just smile real big at Hank until he lets me go."

"Hey, if that works, go right ahead." I nod to the booth in the distance. "Come on, he's waiting for us."

She sighs and turns to follow me, pausing when she sees the booth in front of us. "Oh, for fuck's sake," she mutters. "Can you write 'Criminal' on my forehead and call it a day? This is downright–I don't know– ostentatious ."

I can't help the laugh that escapes me. " Ostentatious? "

"Ostentatious," she confirms.

I shrug. "Sorry, already told Hank we'd help him out. Better put on that orange jumpsuit of yours and show up for the troubled youths of your hometown."

She grumbles, crossing her arms. I rest my hand on the back of her neck, gently guiding her forward. She shivers at the touch. "It's one day, Noelle. Besides, it'll make Hank really happy."

She lets out a long breath. "I hate Hank."

"You're annoyed with Hank but you begrudgingly like Hank."

She shoots me a glare. "No, I hate Hank."

"Okay."

I drop my hand from her neck, and she turns, grabbing at it to put it back where it was."No, keep your hand there. I can live off that for the next hour."

A surprised laugh escapes me. "Wow, if a hand gets you through an hour, imagine what the rest of me could do."

Her eyes widen as her jaw drops, a grin spreading across her face. "Saint Nick."

"Yeah, that one slipped out a bit," I confess, running a hand through my hair.

"What I wouldn't give to see the thoughts running through your head right now."

I shake my head, knowing we're entering dangerous territory again. "I can guarantee you they'd have you blushing."

Her eyes flash. "Tell me! Please. And if you could make it last ten hours."

"Don't know whether I can last ten hours but for you, I'll give it my best."

A surprised laugh tumbles from her mouth.

Keep it the fuck together, Nick.

Hank is in front of us, and I head toward him like he's the lifeboat I need to survive. I can stop paddling for my life now that he's here to save me, and even though I'm taking small gulps of water, I know I won't drown.

"Hank!" I bark, nudging her forward with my hand on the small of her back. "I brought you a criminal to serve as an example to the troubled youths of this town."

"There she is!" Hank says with a grin as he stands from his chair behind the table. He runs a hand over his short, graying hair that contrasts his dark skin. On the table in front of him, he has a number of pamphlets lined up, ranging from general info, to community events, to summer programs for kids. "Nice to see you, Noelle.”

She gives him about the fakest grin I've ever seen, and he takes it in stride.

"Nice to see you, too, Hank," she says through clenched teeth.

He rounds the table, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "Nick says you've been doing well with the community service. Really putting your all into it. I really appreciate it, Noelle. As does the town. I think everyone enjoys seeing one of our own come back successful and investing into the community. Though I have to tell you, I'm surprised you haven't found a way to bring your business into it."

"My business is mine , Hank," she bites. "You know that."

He holds his hands up. "I know, kid. But god, you're so smart. The kids around here could use that, especially the ones who have less-than-stellar high school experiences. And I mean, I think your mom certainly wouldn't hate having you around a little more."

I narrow my eyes. Okay, so Hank and Noelle know each other better than I thought .

"I get to choose what I bring back to this town and what I take from it," she says. "My business is mine , and it stays at home with me. Just like my dad and every other asshole in this town is the town's, and I get to leave them here when I'm done."

He rolls his eyes, waving her off. "Alright, alright. Whatever suits you, Noelle." He turns to me. "We've really got our hands full with this one, huh?" He nudges her arm lightly and she gives him a tight-lipped smile.

"That's an understatement," I agree, earning me another glare.

"So," Hank says, turning back to the table and gesturing to the array of pamphlets. "I'm so delighted that you wanted to help out with the sheriff's booth this year. It's an easy job. All you have to do is man the booth and answer the occasional question when someone comes around. It might help to do a quick read-through of the pamphlets–most questions are answered in there, and I'll be here if you need help."

She rolls her eyes. "Great. Wonderful. I can't wait to help troubled youths by shouting at their parents that they're troubled."

Hank gives her a look before turning to me. "Make sure she behaves, will you?"

The grin she gives me over his shoulder is nothing short of devilish.

I struggle to keep my laughter at bay as I nod. "I’ll do my best."

Noelle, despite being unenthused about today's community service, takes her job seriously. She hands out pamphlets and speaks kindly to anyone who stops by to say hello, though most of them are here to chat with Hank and move on. She calls after anyone who leaves the booth without a small stack of pamphlets and makes sure they get one of each, shooting Hank and me dirty looks every time she catches one of us looking at her.

Which... is hard not to do. Whenever someone walks up to the table, she leans forward to greet them and the only thing I can think about is how she would look with my chalky handprint on her ass.

As we get close to lunch, Hank asks us what we want and heads down the street to pick it up for us. It’s on him, he insists, because we've been so gracious with our time.

Even though I'm not doing much other than ogling Noelle. It's not like our booth is getting bombarded with people–it's the sheriff's booth, for Christ's sake, and most people are more interested in Christmas presents and snacks than they are with us.

So I greet any townspeople I know and do my best to make myself useful, but mostly I imagine all the ways I could make Noelle come. If I had been smarter, I would have brought a book to read during those moments when no one is around. Anything to distract me from her ass and the toned legs underneath.

There's a part of me that wonders whether she's doing this on purpose. Every once in a while she turns around to look at me, and I can't tell whether it's amusement or annoyance in her eyes.

While Hank is gone to get food, I get my answer. She twists to look at me, wiggling her ass in my direction. "Getting a good look, Mr. Monroe?" she asks, catching me staring shamelessly at her backside. She's leaning across the table in front of her, and when she catches my attention, she arches her back ever so slightly.

"You're trying to make this as hard as possible, aren't you?"

She grins. "Is it working?" Her eyes dip and I swallow, pushing my glasses onto my head so I can't see her anymore, and run a hand over my face.

I mean, I can see a very sexy blob in front of me, but the detail is gone.

"Yes," I say gruffly, as I reposition my glasses in front of my eyes.

She grins. "Good. Because I'm sure as hell not going to be the only one tortured this holiday season."

I shake my head as I laugh, tipping my head back and staring at the ceiling of the hut for a few moments before turning my attention back to her.

And that's the moment Hank returns, bag of food in his hand, and sets it down on the little fold-up table in the back of the tent. "Sandwich for you, sir," he says, as someone stops by the booth. Noelle speaks easily to them, handing over pamphlet after pamphlet with a smile on her face as if she's actually happy to be doing this. "Noelle, when you're done, I have your salad here for you."

"Thanks," she calls over her shoulder, returning her attention to the family she's talking to.

My eyes linger on her a second longer than I should, caught on the way her hair flows down her back, the way her body is all smooth curves.

I shake my head in an attempt to focus my brain.

And when I turn my attention to the food in front of me, I catch only Hank's grin.

"You gonna ask her out or what?"

I swallow. "What?"

"You've spent all morning staring at the girl. You might as well make a real go of it."

My heart thumps. Does this mean I have Hank’s blessing?

Not that I need it. But we’ve already entered dangerous territory.

But if Hank’s not upset, maybe I shouldn’t try so hard to fight this thing between us.

"Hank, I sign her timecard."

His laugh is boisterous enough that Noelle turns to see what the commotion is. I shrug, hoping she's not listening too closely to our conversation. "I found that timecard online and printed it out on card stock so it looked borderline legitimate."

I snort. "If everyone else is taking it seriously, I feel like I should take it seriously."

Hank shrugs. "Well, whatever. Just don't sit around with your thumb up your butt too long because that girl is going to go running away from here the second her hours are done."

"You think?" I carefully unwrap my sandwich with one eye on Noelle.

He nods. "Her mother's been trying to get her to come back for ages. Won't stay longer than a holiday unless she's forced to, and when she does, it's nothing but temper tantrums. Like that egg-throwing incident." He sighs, pulling the plastic from around his wrap. "I get it. I really do. High school is tough for a lot of kids. But she's not in high school anymore, and she's got family here who want her around. I mean, once her sister moves back here, she's going to be alone and essentially shunning everyone who cares about her."

I pause, my sandwich halfway to my mouth. "Her sister is moving back here?"

I don't recall Noelle telling me this, and something tells me it's not the sort of thing she'd keep under wraps. It seems like the sort of thing she'd be screaming about.

Hank nods, taking a bite of his wrap. "Christina got a job closer to home. She was always a little townie. Homecoming queen in high school, always participated in the play and the parade and all the town stuff. As much as Noelle hates this town, Christina misses it."

I nod, watching Noelle from the corner of my eye. "Does she know that?"

Hank shrugs. "I would guess so. The two of them live together."

I lick my lips. "Yeah, I don't think Noelle knows."

His brow furrows as he rests his sandwich on the table in front of him, eyeing me. "No?"

I shake my head. "I know I don't know her all that well, but I think she'd be upset."

Hank lets out a long breath. "Well, that's not going to go over very well, is it?"

"Should we tell her?"

He crinkles his nose. "No. I think if Christina hasn't told her yet, she has a good reason."

"Reason being to avoid Noelle going nuclear?"

Hank cringes. "I don't know." He pauses, shaking his head. "Next time I see Helen, I'll ask what I should do. Come to think of it, I'm not sure I'm supposed to know that Christina is moving back here, either."

I narrow my eyes. "You're not supposed to?"

"I think she told me that in confidence, probably."

I stare at the older man, searching for meaning in his eyes, but he won't look at me.

And I get the distinct feeling that Hank is sleeping with Noelle's mom.