The Bad Boy’s Secret Santa (Christmas in Alpine Valley #9)

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

PIPER

After spending an embarrassing amount of time holed up in the vacant meeting room of the community center, desperately searching the long list of Secret Santa rules for a loophole, I admit defeat and return to the event room. I am supposed to be learning the ropes, after all. Hard to do that when I’m hiding.

“You all right, dear?” Grandma Wilma asks when I return to our table, her expression concerned. There appears to be a lull in participants, as the room is empty aside from the two of us. She was the one who helped me pick up the pieces when Eli left town all those years ago. If anyone can understand how I’m feeling now, it’s her.

I let out a pitiful laugh. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”

“Maybe you should take the rest of the day off,” she suggests.

“But I thought?—”

“You’ve seen how this piece of it operates. This is the easy part. We can go over the behind-the-scenes details later.”

“Only if you’re sure.”

“I can handle this.” She gives me a quick squeeze. When she pulls back, she nods at the gift bag poking out of my purse. “You’ve got some work to do anyway.”

I know it’s pointless to ask, but I do anyway. “Is it possible there’s been a mistake with my?—”

“There are no mistakes, dear.”

“Oh.” My shoulders slump in disappointment. Guess I won’t be finding my true love after all. There’s no way in hell I’m meant to be with Eli Winchester. The bad boy who convinced the good girl to run away with him eleven Christmases ago—not that I’m counting—and then disappeared without even saying goodbye. It’s stupid, but unshed tears sting the corners of my eyes.

“You still believe in Christmas magic?” Grandma asks.

“Always.”

The door to the community center opens, welcoming two more residents. With one last squeeze, Grandma adds, “Then have a little faith.”

Faith.

I want to believe.

I will believe.

I do believe.

I’m still repeating the mantra in my head hours later, when I’m camped in front of my laptop. I decided to get a head start on an online marketing project that’s due mid-January with hopes that I would strike some grand epiphany about Christmas magic and true love during the monotonous work. But all I’ve managed are irritated eyes that are angry at me for not wearing blue blockers, and a rumbling stomach that’s complaining about a missed lunch.

Since the grocery store closes in ten minutes, I decide the local pizzeria is the easiest solution for dinner. It’s a quick three blocks from the four-plex, so I opt for walking. Parking’s hard to come by, anyway. It’s a popular place. Plus, the fresh air, even if it’s chilly, helps me clear my head.

As much as I’ve tried to pour myself into my work all day, it’s been an uphill battle.

Seeing Eli Winchester has rattled my brain. It’s also made me surprisingly horny. Damn the man and his effortless sexiness. He would have the audacity to have aged like a fine fucking wine. I bet it only gets better from here . There’s nothing in those Secret Santa rules about not seducing your recipient, though I suspect it might be frowned upon.

And why am I thinking about sleeping with him? He abandoned me all those years ago and never apologized. Never called or emailed or sent a carrier pigeon to explain himself. I should hate him.

So why is it so hard to stay mad?

Maybe it’s been a hot minute since I’ve been with a man who knows his way around a woman’s body, but I’m more than capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much. I don’t need Eli’s earth-shattering orgasms to make my life complete.

But they are so good.

The cozy restaurant is decorated in silver snowflake garland, red and green ornaments hanging from it. I don’t know why, but the small touch renews my hope. Maybe I’ll meet my true love by being Eli’s Secret Santa. Yeah, that has to be it. My real true love is someone I’ll encounter because I have to be around Eli. Kind of like good karma.

“Come here often?” Eli’s silky-smooth voice causes my traitorous body to tremble with want. Okay, so maybe some of those stray thoughts while I was working did involve Eli and me in clothing optional scenarios. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him know that.

“Are you following me?”

“I was here first.”

“Oh.” A swift blush rushes up my neck, making me wish I’d worn a scarf. I try to hide it with my coat, but his smirk warns me I’ve failed. “Well, enjoy your pizza?—”

“Why don’t you join me, Pipes?”

Pipes . Gah, my insides turn to instant mush. Maybe I just need a good night’s sleep—and a good self-induced orgasm—to settle my rampant thoughts. It’s not my fault he waltzed into town unannounced after a decade and didn’t warn me he was coming. It’s been a jolt to my system, and my brain is misfiring.

“Unless you have a hot date?” he teases when I don’t answer, following my gaze around the restaurant.

If the Secret Santa rules didn’t mandate that I spend time with him, I’d leave now and stop by the bakery instead. Cupcakes for dinner has never been a bad decision. “You didn’t bring your girlfriend along to flaunt all over town?”

“What makes you think I don’t have a wife?”

“Eli Winchester?” I shake my head, unable to resist stealing a full up-and-down glance. An old, familiar impulse to strip him of all those layers is tugging at me. Would it be the worst thing in the world? It would be so nice to have one of those toe-curling orgasms he’s so good at giving. “You’re allergic to settling down. It would tarnish that precious bad boy image you hold so dear.”

He runs his thumb up the sweating side of his soda glass, and I suddenly flash to the way he’d run that thumb up other places. His gaze flicks back to mine. “Maybe I’ve changed.”

“You?”

“I have,” he declares.

I notice he’s missing the leather jacket. In its place is a coat some random professional might wear to a board meeting. Even his dark jeans are pressed. For some reason, this makes me a little sad. For the first time, I wonder what his life has been like since he fled Alpine Valley. Was it the adventure he hoped it would be or did something harden him? “Is that why you’re back?”

“I’m back to settle Roy’s estate.”

I instantly feel like an ass as I remember Wilma’s half-heard condolences this morning. Of course. I’d heard about Roy Winchester’s passing earlier in the fall. I’d stupidly hoped it would be enough to bring Eli home after all these years. But knowing the strained relationship he had with his uncle, I wasn’t surprised to hear he hadn’t been back for the funeral service. “I’m sorry?—”

“Don’t be,” Eli says as a server approaches with a massive stack of pizza boxes. Good grief, there must be a dozen.

“Throwing a party?”

“Why?” He winks at me, peeling a twenty off of a roll of bills and tipping the server. “You want to come?”

“No.” Yes . “There’s no way you’re throwing a party in Alpine Valley,” I add. “You don’t like enough people here. What are you doing with all that pizza?” I demand when he picks up the stack from the table and pivots away.

“Guess you’ll have to come with me to find out.”

The aroma of freshly baked pizza makes my stomach grumble. The pizzeria is nearly full tonight. I’ll have to wait at least half an hour for my own order. Maybe longer. Should’ve called ahead . “Fine. But you have to share a slice with me.”

“That’s not up to me.”

“Then who’s it up to?”

“The firefighters.”

“Firefighters?” I repeat, chasing after him. He’s out the door and headed down the block toward the fire station before I can ask, “Did you set something on fire? Is that apology pizza?”

“Pipes, I know you hate me right now, but if you could put that aside, I could really use your help with something important.” Hands full, he gives me a gentle nudge with an elbow. “Come on. It’s Christmas after all.”

“And why would I help you? You left without me. After all the plans we made, you just ditched me and never explained yourself.”

“How about, if you agree to help me with something, I promise to explain myself by Christmas?” He turns that potent whiskey-colored gaze on me, making my lady bits quiver. I guess some things never change . “You in?”