Naughty Santa

Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Joe stood outside the door to Lydia’s—well, Paris’s—house and cursed himself for being an idiot. This was not where he should be, but he’d be damned if he could make himself go anywhere else.

Three days. It had been three days since he had stuck his hand down Paris’s pants, fingering her to an orgasm. It had been hot as hell, fucking mind-blowing. And for a hot minute, he’d thought her offer of casual sex sounded better than chicken and waffles on Christmas morning. Joe had convinced himself he was all in because if she could handle it, so could he.

Then she’d been sweet to Lydia’s asshole cat, going all soft and nice, and he’d cut and run, fully aware that there was no way he wasn’t going to fall for her.

Fuck. Given the way he hadn’t been able to think of anything except her for days or the way he’d been acting like a fool, like someone who couldn’t string three words together, every time he ran into her, it was safe to say he was already halfway in love with her.

Paris wasn’t helping matters. She wasn’t what he expected. Every time Joe had himself convinced she was a snooty, big city girl who could never fit in in North Pole, she’d show this other side that, damn...well, it got to him.

She’d taught Jaden how to play rummy, the two of them dealing out the cards the second the kid got off the bus. Then Jaden had introduced her to his favorite treat of soft butter on saltines, and the last two days, she’d made a trayful of them just before school ended, putting them out like they were some fancy hors d’oeuvres at one of her swanky California parties.

Somehow, she’d coaxed Roscoe into her damn doggie purse yesterday and brought him to the Feed and Seed, insisting the cat was lonely and needed company.

And the more he tried to keep a friendly if awkward distance from her, the more she came on to him. Joe tried to play it cool, told her he thought they’d be better off forgetting about the casual sex, but the woman had already had a taste, and not to sound too cocky, but it was obvious she’d liked it. A lot.

Joe ran his hand over his jaw, feeling his freshly trimmed beard, pretending like he hadn’t shaped it up for Paris. He’d gotten a haircut too. Also, not to impress the California girl.

He rolled his eyes and reached in the truck to retrieve what he’d come to deliver. Mom had caught Joe as he was leaving for work and handed him a pair of her winter boots, asking him to pass them along to Paris. Joe had started to make an excuse, determined this would be the day he managed to stay away from Paris completely, but he couldn’t do it. For one thing, his poor mom looked like she’d gone twelve rounds with a heavyweight, her swollen jaw resembling a chipmunk with a cheek full of nuts.

And for another thing...Paris needed help walking on the ice. Any friend would do the same.

Suuuure, they would.

So he told his mom he’d drop the boots off, then went back into his apartment to grab one of his old coats.

If they were outfitting Paris for an Indiana winter, might as well do it right.

Joe was looking forward to seeing her expression when she saw his gifts. He doubted the fashionista had ever worn anything that didn’t have some designer’s name attached to it.

Climbing the stairs to Lydia’s porch, he gave himself a pep talk, tried to convince himself that this was just a friendly visit, that he was just being neighborly.

All those good intentions flew out the window when Paris answered the door in the cutest little fleece pajama bottoms with bunnies on them and a red T-shirt with Givenchy emblazoned on it.

Yep. Even her pajamas had a name on them, and he was guessing the privilege of wearing that tee probably cost her as much as at least three pairs of his jeans.

“Hey, Joe.” She smiled brightly when she saw him, and he fought back the desire to whisk her back to the kitchen to finish what they’d started the other night.

Her hair was pinned up on top of her head in a ponytail, and a few little wispy curls had broken free to hang loose around her face. His fingers itched to wrap that ponytail around his hand and tug on it, use his grip to pull her to him for a kiss, or maybe he’d pull her head a little lower, unzip his jeans, and...

Yep. He was fucked.

There were three condoms in his wallet, and he’d made a vow to himself that would always be the case until the day he died. No more getting caught unprepared.

He’d been a Boy Scout, for God’s sake. He had a reputation to uphold.

She was looking at him funny, and Joe realized he’d yet to say anything as he played out the kinky fantasies that had been on auto-repeat in his brain for days.

Talk, you jackass.

“Hi, Paris.”

She stepped aside, so Joe crossed the threshold, holding out what he’d brought. “Mom wanted me to drop off a pair of boots for you. She worries about you walking on the ice, ever since you took that tumble the other morning.”

Walking Paris to and from work had become part of his morning routine ever since she slipped and fell on her ass the morning after her arrival in North Pole. No matter how many times she nearly lost her balance, or he had to catch her, she refused to give up her impractical boots.

Joe had to hand it to her. She did a pretty good job of schooling her features as she took the boots from him. “Oh. Um. Wow. That was nice of her. Is she sure she doesn’t need them?”

He grinned. “Nope. Women around here tend to have a few pairs of winter boots. And,” Joe extended his hand, showing her the coat he’d brought, “this is from me. Figure this is gonna be a lot warmer than that zebra jacket you keep insisting on wearing.”

She was less successful in hiding her disdain for his faded black parka. “I couldn’t take that from you.” Her nose wrinkled when she said that, like the damn coat smelled of skunk.

Joe pointed to the coat he was wearing. “Don’t worry about it. I have other coats too.”

“Right. Well…”

“Paris,” he said. “Nobody cares what you wear in North Pole. Why don’t you give these a try today? You’ll be able to walk yourself to work, and you won’t freeze your ass off while you do it.”

Paris tilted her head toward him in that girly, flirty way that had his cock twitching. “That doesn’t sound like much incentive to switch boots. I like when you walk with me. I liked it even better when you carried me. And as for coats...” She leaned closer, and he caught a whiff of coconut from her shampoo.

Paris unzipped his coat and slipped her hands inside, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“What are you doing?” Joe asked.

“Seeing how warm this coat is compared to mine. Mmmmm. You’re right. It’s nice and toasty in here. Maybe we should just share.”

“You’re not going to wear the boots or coat, are you?”

She laughed, still clinging to him, his coat wrapped around both of them.

“I wouldn’t be caught dead in either of those things. It would be the equivalent of giving up. But I do appreciate the offer.”

Despite his best intentions to keep his hands to himself, Joe wrapped his arms around her and patted her ass. “How’s your ass feeling?”

For a couple days after her fall, she’d taken to sitting on a donut.

“Still sore. Maybe you could kiss it and make it better.”

Time to get them back on track. “Maybe you should get dressed for work. I have a slave driver of a boss, cracking the whip to get a bunch of repairs done to her store, so she can escape back to sunny California.”

Paris had hired Joe to make repairs to the Holly Jolly, in hopes of making the Feed and Seed appealing to potential buyers. He’d taken the job because what could be more sadomasochistic than working for the woman he was trying to avoid.

Paris let go of him, though he could see she didn’t want to. He liked that fact more than he should.

“I just need to put some clothes on, and then I’m ready. Will you try to catch Roscoe for me? I think he really liked spending time at the store with us yesterday.”

Joe grimaced as she bounded upstairs to change. God only knew where the cat was hiding. He walked through the downstairs room, searching for Roscoe. As he entered the back family room, Joe spotted Louis, dozing on the couch, the bright morning sun warming the room. He always felt like he’d gone back in time in this room, like he should be wearing a plaid leisure suit or something.

“Where’s the cat?” Joe muttered to Louis, surprised when Roscoe slowly crawled out from under the coffee table at the sound of his voice. The cat gave him his usual “eat shit and die” look before hopping up on the couch, just close enough to Louis’s head to terrorize the small dog.

Glancing down, Joe caught sight of Paris’s doggie purse.

Jesus. Is this what his life had come to? Putting a cat in a purse and carrying it to the Feed and Seed for a woman who wanted sex, but not love.

Lydia was either rolling over in her grave or—more likely—laughing her ass off at him right now.

Roscoe’s back went up, and he hissed at Joe as he approached him. He was glad he’d left his coat on. Might protect him from the clawing he was about to take from the ornery cat. Roscoe took two swats at him before Joe managed to get hold of him.

Paris came in behind Joe, cooing something to the pissed-off cat. Roscoe didn’t look a lot happier to see her, but Joe noticed he didn’t try to scratch her as she took him and dropped him into her purse.

Today, like yesterday, the cat shocked the hell out of him by curling up in the bottom of the bag and going to sleep.

“I can’t believe he actually stays in there,” Joe mused.

Paris shrugged as she lifted the bag out to him, and Joe begrudgingly tugged the straps over his arm. They’d determined yesterday that Joe was better suited to carry the cat since—he glanced down at her feet and sighed—she was determined to risk her life for fashion.

She quickly pulled on that ridiculous short jacket, put Louis on his leash, and they were off to the Feed and Seed, a regular traveling zoo.

Paris leaned heavily on his arm, the two of them walking insanely slow on the slick surface. Twice, she slipped and twice, Joe steadied her. Each time, she smiled at him and tucked herself closer. He was starting to figure out she was only about half afraid of falling. The other half of her was using these daily walks as a way to torture him, her breasts rubbing against his arm, her face close enough to his that it would take very little effort on his part to dip his head lower to kiss her.

She was bound and determined to change his mind on the casual sex, and she was close to getting her way, broken heart be damned.

They’d just reached the entrance of the store when Paris’s phone beeped. She glanced at the screen, her eyes widening.

“Oh my God.”

“What is it?” Joe asked.

“Remember I told you I had a lead on potential buyers for the store?”

“Yeah.” She’d dropped that information on him yesterday, and it had bugged him ever since.

“They want to come see the place,” she said. Then her face fell. “Damn. In three days.” Paris looked up in a panic. “The place isn’t ready. You still need to finish the roof, and I’d hoped to sort of,” she waved her hand around, “make the place look better.”

Joe had walked into the Holly Jolly Feed and Seed pretty much every single day of his life and he’d never—until that moment—seen a damn thing wrong with it. As a kid, he thought the place was almost magical. He used to believe he was the luckiest kid alive because he actually got to live in the North Pole, and the Holly Jolly fed that belief with its reindeer and bright lights and festive music and colorful Christmas displays.

Now, Joe was looking at it through Paris’s eyes, and the magic was fading. The window displays hadn’t been touched in years, so now they were dusty and faded. The whole building could use a paint job, and the sign had seen better days.

He blew out a long sigh, visible in the cold air. “We’ll fix it up,” he said.

Because Joe wanted to show Paris the Holly Jolly the way he’d always seen it. And because—fuck him—he wanted to make her happy. “We’ll divide the jobs. I’ll finish the repairs to the roof, fix the sign, and repaint as much as I can. You can focus on the Christmas side, and my mom will take care of sprucing up the Feed and Seed side.”

“Did you tell her I was sell?—”

Joe shook his head and cut her off. “No. We’ll just tell her we’re making the place nice for the holiday party. She’ll buy that.”

Paris lit up like a Christmas tree, and his heart sped up a few beats as she stretched up on tiptoe and kissed him. It was a sweet kiss, but he didn’t doubt for a minute he could have turned it to something hot enough to melt the snow around them if he wanted to.

He resisted the urge.

Barely.

Paris broke the kiss but didn’t pull back, her breath warm on his cheek. “I’m still waiting for my big package, Santa,” she whispered before turning and walking into the Feed and Seed.

Fuck it.

The nice list was overrated.

This year, Santa was going to be one naughty bastard.