Naughty Santa

Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

It was a good thing Joe had to do some roof repairs after the hot workroom sex with Paris because he needed the cooldown. Damn, she was unbelievable. Confident, sensual, flirtatious.

Now that he’d given in to his base desires and had her over Lydia’s desk, he wasn’t sure why the hell he’d bothered to resist. Sure, he was notorious for getting attached. Yes, most likely he was going to either make a jackass out of himself or fall in love with her and get his damn heart broken. But he had a sneaking suspicion that could happen even without the sex, so why not enjoy the high before the crash?

At least that was what he was telling himself as he replaced shingles and let the cold air take the heat out of his skin. It was a fucking miracle he didn’t shoot a nail through his glove, given how distracted he was by thoughts of seeing Paris again that night. She was leaving in a week or two, and Joe had every intention of spending every night until then deep inside her heat.

When she closed the Holly Jolly for the night, she waved and called up to him from the sidewalk. “I’m going home. Bye, Joe!”

Joe wondered if she knew she had said “home” and if that meant anything.

Probably not.

Dammit. He was doing it again. Trying to change reality.

He waved back to Paris, remembering her telling him that they couldn’t let people know they were hooking up. It was the smart way to handle it. He didn’t need any of his friends or family giving him shit about hooking up with Miss California.

His mother would tell him she’d raised him different. Which she had. But he was a grown-ass man jumping on an opportunity. Literally.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t still going to be himself though. He couldn’t just show up, nail Paris, and walk back out. It might be casual, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be friends too. Isn’t that what they called it? Friends with benefits? Joe wanted to do all sorts of nasty things to Paris, but he also liked talking to her.

That was why when he parked his truck on the street behind her house and cut through three yards to knock on her back door, he had a plan in mind.

Lydia had vertical blinds on the slider leading to the family room, and they shifted, Paris’s face appearing. She had her phone to her ear and a scared expression. Her shoulders dropped, and she opened the blinds and then the slider.

“What the hell are you doing?” she asked. “I was about to call 9-1-1.”

“Sorry. You told me I had to be discreet, so I parked on the next street.” It hadn’t occurred to him he’d scare her. Small-town life meant people were always knocking on each other’s back doors.

“You could have warned me.” She put her hand to her chest. “I lost three years of my life. Come in, you weirdo.”

Joe stepped inside and kicked the snow off his boots, but he stayed on the tile by the door. “Grab your coat. I want to take you somewhere.”

Paris paused in the process of bending over to grab her dog, which gave him a hell of a view. “What? Where?”

“It’s a surprise.”

She scooped Louis off the floor and cuddled him to her chest. “I don’t like surprises.”

“I thought all women like surprises.”

“I told you I threw up when my ex surprised me with an engagement ring. I don’t like not being in control.”

That made Joe grin. She’d just handed him ammunition for sex. He was going to drive her wild until she totally lost control.

“Relax. It’s nothing crazy. I just want to show you something.”

Her eyes dropped to the front of his jeans. “I can get behind that plan.”

Joe grinned. “Go get your coat and boots, dirty girl. By the way, how is Louis doing?”

She’d mentioned earlier that she was going to stop bringing the little guy to the store because it seemed to give him anxiety. He’d taken to standing in front of the reindeer and barking nonstop. He had also flatly refused to do his business on the sidewalk, so Paris had left him in Lydia’s office this afternoon on the sofa on a fleece blanket, watching HGTV on the ancient TV, while wearing a sweater she’d ordered from Amazon that read “Resting Grinch Face.” The dog had it made.

“He’s better. Tomorrow, I’m leaving him here all day. There’s just too much going on at the store. It makes him nervous.”

“Does he stay at home during the day when you’re in L.A.?” Joe was curious about her life in California.

“He goes to doggy day care.”

“Get the fuck out of here. Is that really a thing?” That was a head scratcher to him.

She laughed. “Of course it’s a thing. People have busy careers, and traffic in L.A. sucks, making for a long commute. Most people either have a dog walker or take their dogs to day care so they’re not alone being under stimulated all day.”

In North Pole, if a dog needed to be stimulated, you took it hunting or fishing with you. But he could see her point. It just illustrated how different their lives were. Their real lives. This was a temporary arrangement for her, taking on Lydia’s life.

“What do you love most about L.A.?” Joe asked her.

“The weather. Living close to my parents. World-class shopping.”

Solid answer and not unexpected. “What do you like the least?”

“Traffic, the insanely high rent prices, earthquakes, fires, smog.”

To him, those would outweigh the benefits, but she’d grown up there. It was home. Plus, he’d never walked on a beach in Southern California. That might change his mind about everything. “I guess everywhere has pros and cons, huh?”

Paris nodded and set Louis down on the shag carpet. He ran over to the plaid sofa and leaped up onto it and did three circles before settling down. “What’s your favorite thing about North Pole?”

That was easy. “The people. The sense of community. Neighbors helping neighbors.”

“And your least favorite?” she asked.

That no woman ever wanted to stay. That he was Uncle Joe and was most likely never going to be a father unless he left town. But he didn’t say any of that. It was two weeks until Christmas; there was a light snow falling, and he and Paris were on borrowed time. Joe was going to enjoy the season. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Roscoe,” he said as Lydia’s cat strolled by and took a swipe at his leg.

Paris laughed. She bent down and scratched behind the cat’s ears. “Don’t be mean. Roscoe is just a witty-bitty cutie little baby, aren’t you, sweetie? Yes, I know. That feels so good when I rub you, doesn’t it?”

“Lucky son of a bitch.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Let me get my coat.”

“Great idea.”

Paris disappeared into the hallway between the family room and the kitchen. Lydia had it set up as a mud room. To his shock, Paris reappeared wearing his enormous winter coat and Mom’s boots. Wise, given what he had planned, but shocking, nonetheless.

“Nice duds,” he told her.

“When in Rome,” she said breezily, zipping up the nylon coat with a flourish.

Joe stepped in front of her, amazed as always by how beautiful she was with her high cheekbones and almond-colored eyes that sparkled with flirtation. He leaned in. Paris parted her lips, her eyes drifting partially closed, anticipating his kiss.

Pulling a knit hat out of his pocket, he reached up and tugged it onto her head.

She gave a squawk. “What the hell, Joe?”

“Your ears need to be covered.” She looked annoyed and adorable, the worn navy hat lopsided. Joe gave her a kiss. “It’s cold outside.”

“You need to work on your flirting skills,” she said. “This doesn’t feel very sexy.”

“You’d be sexy in a sack,” he told her truthfully.

Thirty minutes later, as he led Paris by the hand through the snow to a covered-bridge painted barn-red, she gave a gasp. “Joe… Oh my God, this is beautiful.”

“It is.” But he was looking at her instead of the bridge he’d seen hundreds of times. The wonder on her face made his dick hard and his gut clench.

It was a cold, clear night, the snow having stopped twenty minutes earlier. The moon was high, and the trees were dusted with the new-fallen snow.

“It’s so quiet out here,” she said, turning in a circle, putting her arms out. “It’s like we’re all alone in the world.”

An owl gave a low call in the distance. “Not entirely alone.”

“Where does this road go?” She gestured to the bridge. “Can we walk through it, or are we at risk for getting hit by a car?”

Joe gave her a smile. “We’re not going to get hit by a car. The bridge is closed to cars now because the road was cut off by new development and the highway. It’s just a foot bridge now.”

“Progress comes even to small towns, doesn’t it?”

“Yep. Even when it’s not wanted.” Joe took Paris’s hand and led her across the snow.

She seemed startled to be holding hands, but he didn’t care. The woman had proven herself incapable of walking in snow without falling on her ass, and he didn’t want to be hauling her off the ground every ten feet.

“When I look at the Pacific Ocean, I’m always amazed at how huge the world is, and I have that feeling here too.” Paris was looking around, taking in the woods and the stream that ran under the bridge. “I think this is the first time I’ve actually enjoyed the cold. It feels kind of refreshing.”

“Wow. Who are you? And what did you do with Paris?” Joe asked with a wink.

She gave him a good-natured slap on the arm. “Smartass.”

“From beach babe to snow bunny overnight. I like it.” Joe liked a lot of things about her. The way she laughed. The way she took care of her little dog and was being sweet to Roscoe. The way she was so comfortable with her sexuality and gave those soft little moans when he touched her.

“It almost feels like we’re the only two people on the planet.”

Joe sighed happily. “Yeah, it does. I guess you never get that same feeling in L.A.”

She laughed softly. “That’s an understatement. L.A. feels like a giant anthill, millions of people crammed into a tiny space, always in constant motion. I consider myself pretty chill, but I’m not sure I knew what it meant to slow down and relax until here.”

“Careful, Paris. Touting the benefits of life in North Pole is my job. Feels like you’re stepping on my turf here.”

She turned toward him, dropping his hand and wrapping her arms around his waist. He wasn’t sure if she was aiming for warmth or...something better, but Joe didn’t care. It really was cold, and he liked having Paris in his personal space. He tightened his arms around her, and the two of them stood there for a few minutes, listening to the night sounds of the woods around them while keeping each other warm.

Paris was the first to step away. “I can’t feel my nose anymore.”

Joe laughed. “Come on. We better get back to the car before it falls off.”

He took her hand and led her back to the truck. Turning it on, he cranked the heat on high.

Then, it hit him. The lie he’d been telling himself. He didn’t do casual because he couldn’t do casual.

He didn’t want her to leave.

Maybe she didn’t want to leave either.

Maybe he just needed to use all his powers of persuasion to convince her that life in North Pole had its merits.

Turning to Paris, Joe reached out and cupped her soft cheek with his rough, calloused hand. He loved how small and feminine she was compared to him. Her eyes widened a little.

“What?” she asked.

“I’m just thinking about all the ways I can get you hot. I owe it to you after taking you tromping through the snow.”

“Oh,” she said, the corner of her mouth turning up. “That does seem fair. I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

Joe brushed his lips over hers. “I’m going to warn you. It’s going to take all night. If you want a job done right, you can’t rush it.”

“I strongly support quality craftsmanship.”

She sounded breathless and excited.

He put the truck in reverse and drove back to her house as fast as he could without spinning out in the freshly fallen snow.

All night in Paris.

Joe was one fucking lucky guy.

She had a situation.

And Paris didn’t mean like the time her boob tape decided to give way at her friend Asher’s wedding, and she came perilously close to a nip slip. The fact that it was her father who had pointed it out to her was still mortifying.

That had been bad.

This.

This was worse.

This was a full-blown crisis.

She was falling for Joe.

Hard.

She was also falling for this town. She never would have imagined for a second that she could even tolerate the cold, let alone enjoy it, and yet tonight, Joe had shown her the beauty of snow and a quiet country winter night.

Then he brought her home and poured her a glass of red wine while he told her to wait downstairs for five minutes.

When she went upstairs, she caught him lighting candles on the countertop, a bubble bath drawn.

“When you live in a cold weather state, there is only one way to warm up before bed,” he said. “A nice, hot bubble bath.”

The man was a born romantic, and Paris didn’t think he even realized it. “Oh, really? That does seem wise.” She wasn’t all that cold anymore, but she was not going to object to a soak in a deep tub. “Are you joining me?”

“Hell, yeah. This tub is cast iron. It’s deep, and it holds heat for hours.”

Perfect.

“Then I guess there’s only one thing to do now. Strip. You first.”

Joe needed no more encouragement than that. He was a good-looking muscular guy and clearly comfortable in his own skin. He had his sweatshirt and T-shirt over his head in record time. Then he unzipped his jeans and took them down. “Done. Your turn.”

“Everything off,” she said, amused by his enthusiasm. “You’re not finished yet.”

He eyed her. “This isn’t a trick, is it? Like I get naked, and then you leave?”

That made her laugh. “Why would I do that? I’d never leave you.”

At the same moment, they both realized what she had said. She was leaving him.

His nostrils flared. Her mouth fell open to say something. What, she didn’t know. But to explain somehow. “Joe…”

“Don’t,” he said, and his voice was low, rough. “Don’t apologize or try to explain or let me down easy. You’re always up front with me and I appreciate it.”

He was right. There wasn’t really anything to say. If anyone had broken the rules they’d established, it was her for falling for him. Not that he needed to know that. So she did the best thing she could under the circumstances. She peeled her sweater off and tossed it onto the floor.

Slowly, seductively, she stripped off the rest of her clothes, shimmying out of her jeans in a way that had him growling and reaching for her.

“Patience,” Paris told him as she kicked the pants away.

When she turned and bent over the tub, he growled. “Fuck, Paris. What are you doing?”

Giving him a hell of a view.

“Testing the temperature.” She dipped a hand in and scooped up some bubbles, then turned toward him. “It feels perfect. Nice and hot.”

Joe’s gaze ran over her entire body. “Very hot.” He eased his boxer briefs down, and his thick cock came into view.

He really was the total package.

Dammit.

She took the bubbles in her hand and patted his chin so they transferred to him. “Santa beard.”

“Get in the tub, Paris, before I throw you in.”

“Whatever you say.” She giggled before turning and putting her hand on the wall to step into the warm water.

Casual sex.

That’s all this was.

But not even she was buying what she was selling.