The Holiday Games

Chapter 13

thirteen

. . .

Caroline

I nside the posh Waverly’s department store dressing room, I slip into a cashmere dress Leo insisted on selecting from the rack. It costs more than any single item of clothing I’ve ever owned, and I have no intention of blowing four hundred dollars on a dress, but…

Wow, is it soft.

Soooo soft.

And sexy…

The deep red wool skims my curves, enhancing without clinging. For the first time in ages, I feel classy, sophisticated. I look like a woman who calls the shots in boardrooms or at a luxury clothing brand.

Again, I’m struck by the certainty that if I never put on another Santa Claus sweater or giant red hair bow, it will be too soon.

Thankfully, before I can start feeling too guilty about that, Leo murmurs from the other side of the dressing room’s heavy curtain, “How’s it look? Show and tell, woman. You have to do a fashion show. That’s the best part of the shopping process.”

I grin, running my fingers through my hair, grateful that it’s dried in silky waves instead of frizzing the way it does in the humid New York summers. “Don’t tell me you actually enjoy shopping.”

“Love it. Well, not for me,” he amends. “Men’s clothing is boring, but I’m the go-to shopping partner for my fashionable gal pals. Not to brag, but I’ve been told I have amazing taste. Especially for a straight man.”

I turn from the mirror, sweeping the curtain aside to reveal Leo looking even more delicious than usual in a dapper black fedora with a feather sticking up on one side.

I give an approving nod. “Nice hat.”

“Thanks,” he says, his gaze sweeping up and down my body in a way that makes the dressing room feel warmer than it did before. “And that dress is…”

“Nice?” I ask, spinning in a slow circle. I shouldn’t fan the flames between us—we’re friends, just friends, for now and always—but some wicked part of me can’t resist the urge to show Leo how bootylicious my backside looks in this dress.

He exhales a soft groan that goes straight to my belly, making it flip. “A stroke. I may be experiencing a mild stroke.”

I turn back to him, suppressing a grin as I add in mock concern, “Oh, no. Should I take it off, then?” I motion toward the other clothes hanging in the dressing area. “The brown pantsuit with the gold trim was great, too. Nice, sensible fabric, no clinging…”

His hand shoots out, wrapping around my wrist, sending electricity rampaging across my skin. My nipples tighten and my breath catches, and I know if he decides to make me a member of the “making out in dressing rooms” club, I won’t put up a fight.

Instead, he gives a sharp shake of his head. “No. Never. The dress stays on. Always.”

I fight to regain control of my hormone-addled body as I whisper, “That might get stinky after a while.”

“Never. Wool doesn’t hold odor, and you could never stink.”

I arch a brow. “My hiking club would disagree with you. After eight hours on the trail, we all get pretty gross.”

“Eight hours on the trail,” he says, nodding seriously. “That explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“Why your ass is a thing of unparalleled beauty.” He clears his throat, releasing my wrist as he adds, “I hope that didn’t cross a line.”

I shake my head. “No, it didn’t.”

Hell, it totally did, but I don’t care. I haven’t felt this confident, this beautiful, in longer than I can remember. Chris would tell me I looked nice when he picked me up for dates, but he never looked at me like this, like I’m a cross between a priceless work of art and a four-course dinner at a fancy restaurant.

Something he wants to treasure and devour, all at the same time…

And damn, do I want Leo to devour me. Treasuring is good, too, but right now, the thought of his hungry mouth fused to mine is enough to dampen the satin panties I bought at a lingerie store on the way through the mall.

I lean closer, drawn to his lips like the first sip of peppermint cocoa after months on a sugar-free diet.

We’re about to do something we’ll both regret, when a chipper voice asks— “Can I help you with anything?”—sending Leo and I startling apart.

I spin toward the petite blonde by the dressing room entrance, her hands folded over her simple, but elegant black pants. “Um, hi. Hello. What was that?”

Her smile remains fixed firmly in place. “Just wondering if I could get you another size or color? We also have that dress in bone white and black. Both are great for dressing up or down for the holidays.”

“We’ll take all three,” Leo says before I can respond. “A medium, right?”

I sputter, “Yes, but I don’t need three dresses, Leo. Not only is it extravagant, but it also feels unfair. I don’t want to pig up the show’s entire emergency budget.”

“The show won’t be paying for it,” he says, “I will. And we’re getting all three.” He cuts me off as I start to protest again, “When you find a piece of clothing that makes you look the way you look in this dress, you buy it in every color. That’s just the way it is.”

“He’s right, it looks like it was made for you,” the saleswoman says, before adding in a softer voice, “And I’m not just saying that because the commission on three dresses would be nice. Seriously, you’re breathtaking.”

“She’s right,” Leo says. “And I’m right, and I can afford to treat you to a ‘sorry about the dog poo’ present. So, I’m going to.” Turning back to the blonde, he asks, “Do you sell boots? Something in soft leather that will be comfortable to walk in right away?”

“We do. I’ll call my associate in the shoe department and have him bring over a few options.” She cocks her head, considering me. “Black, I think? Something she can wear with all three colors?”

I prop my hands on my hips. “I feel like I should be annoyed that you two are steamrolling me. But this dress is so soft, I can’t work up the energy.”

The woman grins. “Good. Let him spoil you. That’s what the keepers do when they’re in love.”

“Honored to be called a keeper,” Leo says, pushing past the awkwardness that suddenly prickles in the air between us. “Though I confess I do have my flaws. Trying on hats and forgetting to pay for them before I walk out of a store is a big one. I’d really love to avoid setting off the alarm this time.”

“I’ll add it to your tab now and be sure to scan it for security devices before you leave,” the woman assures him, beaming. “I’ll have the shoes sent right over, as well as socks and hose to choose from.” Shifting her gaze my way again, she asks, “You’re a size seven, right?”

I curl my bare toes into the carpet. “How did you know?”

She winks. “I know things.” She points a finger at my chest. “And tea, right? Earl Grey? Touch of milk and honey? Does that sound good?”

I nod, awed. “Yes, actually. And yes, please. That sounds great.”

“Perfect, I’m Georgia, by the way,” she says. To Leo, she adds, “I’ll have a coffee sent over for you. Black, half a teaspoon of sugar.”

“Make it a whole teaspoon,” he says. “I’m feeling wild.”

Georgia arches a brow. “Wild enough to let me bring your girlfriend a few other things I think will look fantastic and elegant on her this holiday season?”

I start to protest, but Leo is already saying, “Yes, please. But keep it respectable, Georgia. I may look like a movie star, but we’re working on a producer’s budget. Get me out of here for under three grand, and I’ll send my costume team straight to you the next time we need to make a big, juicy purchase.”

Her eyes flicker with excitement as she counts the dollar signs floating through the air. “Not a problem. Now sit back, relax, and we’ll have some fun!”

When she’s gone, I hiss, “Three thousand dollars? Are you insane?”

He grins and shrugs. “No, a residual check from the Sandy show just hit my bank account last night, and I already have everything I need. I mean, except for this hat, of course. Thoughts on this hat?”

“I told you I love the hat.” I cross my arms. “But I’m not sure how to feel about this extravagant gesture.”

His brow furrows. “I feel bad about this morning. Really bad.”

“You don’t have to. It wasn’t your fault, and it’s in the past.” I wrinkle my nose as a sudden realization hits. “Until everyone I know watches it on television…”

“See? This isn’t just a bad morning. This is going to come back to haunt you. Hell, they might make a meme, and you’ll be tortured by the internet fallout forever. The least I can do is make sure you’re dressed to impress if that happens. And seriously, you look beautiful.” His lips quirk up as he adds, a little sadly, I think, “The single men of Vermont won’t know what hit them.”

I start to tell him that I’m not interested in the single men in Vermont.

I’m not interested in single men, at all…unless they’re him.

But then Vivian’s face flashes behind my eyes. Her face, and the faces of my sweet brother-in-law and two adorable nephews, Gilly and Greer. Even if I eventually decide my cousin’s wild lies—and the force of my attraction to Leo—might make it okay for me to violate the girl code, I can’t put her family in that position.

Frank would want to know why I was dating the guy who’d traumatized his wife. And how would I explain that without exposing Vivian as a fraud and potential sociopath? Frank might start to feel that he doesn’t know his wife at all.

I could break up a happy family, and for what? A steamy affair?

Even if Leo wanted more, my entire world is in Reindeer Corners, and he’s the consummate big city guy. Even if he could find a way to do his job remotely, he would hate it there, and our relationship would quickly crash and burn.

There’s no future for us.

There’s just today, and however many more days I’m granted before I lose the competition and get sent home. I just have to enjoy this for what it is—a thrilling moment in time that will be over too soon.

And in that case, why shouldn’t I let this very nice, very sexy man take me shopping…just this once?

I sigh. “All right. I’ll accept your generosity on one condition.”

“Name it.”

“You let me treat you to food and a craft of your choice at the fair.”

He smiles. “Done. Though I confess I’m not much of a craft guy.”

“You will be,” I promise. “This fair is going to be next level. The pictures on the website from last year’s event are incredible. We should probably bring a grocery cart, just in case we end up with too many crafts to carry.”

“I’m a real New Yorker,” Leo scoffs. “I don’t do grocery carts. I carry one insanely heavy bag of groceries home twice a week, the way God intended.”

I humph. “You enjoy aching arms on the subway?”

“Damned straight, I do. And shoulders,” he insists. “It’s how I know I’m still a man and not a granny from the Upper East Side. Don’t worry about the cart. I can carry the crafts, and I’ll have our driver take these bags back to the hotel after he drops us at the ferry station.”

“Good idea,” I say as Georgia breezes back in with a tray of hot drinks and small, candy-cane shaped Christmas cookies.

“I’m full of good ideas,” Leo says with a wink.

“Me, too,” Georgia says. “That’s why I brought cookies.” A man appears behind her, his face obscured by a veritable mountain of shoe boxes. “Oh! And here are the boots. Sit, sit, let me help you try them on while you enjoy your tea.”

And so, for the first time in my life, I experience what it’s like for another person to roll a silky sock up to my knee and zip me into leather boots that hug my calf like a dear friend, while I sip Earl Grey. I’m sure my parents helped me into my shoes when I was little, but I don’t remember it. Even as a child, I was independent. I learned to tie my shoes by five and was doing my braids for school by six.

But I can’t deny it’s nice to be pampered.

It’s even nicer to see how much Leo is enjoying all this. He grins the entire time I’m trying on the rest of Georgia’s elegant finds and ushers me out of the dressing room with a spring in his step, looking proud to be the guy carrying my packages to the door.

I’ve never had a boyfriend who was proud of me before. I’ve never had a boyfriend I was all that proud of, either.

But as Leo nods his new cap to the doorman and wishes him a happy holiday, my chest fills with a warm ache. Yes, he’s funny and gorgeous, with a sex vibe that drives me crazy, but it’s Leo’s kindness that makes him truly special.

A man I would be so proud to call mine…

Instead, I settle for turning to him on the sidewalk as we’re waiting for the driver to pull around, and assuring him, “You shouldn’t worry about intimidating people. The ones who matter will see the truth.”

His brows lift. “And what truth is that?”

“That you’re a good guy,” I say. “A really good guy, and very sweet under that bossy exterior.”

Holding my gaze with an intensity that puts my panties in renewed peril, he says, “You’re just saying that because you’re drunk on shopping.”

“I’m not. I’m saying it because it’s true. Your parents would be so proud of the man you’ve become. No doubt in my mind.”

He blinks, emotion filling his expressive eyes. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” I say, giving his arm a squeeze. I’d rather hug him. Hug him, then kiss him, then race him back to his apartment to get naked ASAP, but this warm, wonderful feeling growing between us is good, too.

I have no doubt Leo Fenton is an amazing friend. And maybe someday, with some time and distance between us, friends will feel like enough.

Fool, the Voice of Doom whispers, piping up for the first time in a while, but I ignore it.

I may be a fool, but I don’t care. I’d rather be a fool than miss out on one second with this man. “Ready to get your craft fair on?” I ask as the driver glides to the curb.

“So ready,” he says, playing up the huskiness in his tone as he bobs his brows.

Laughing, I slide into the back seat.

I’m ready, too.