Page 11 of Jingle Devil

I’m so fucking stupid.

I was so consumed by her and her body that I didn’t tell her how I feel. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I knew how I felt. It hit me last night like a slapshot straight to the face. I’ve been in love with her since the first day she walked into my office; it just took me a while to catch up. It’s not just about the sex, although I want that too, but I also want to have dinner with her, wake up with her in the mornings, celebrate her victories and be there to lift her up during her defeats.

And like a dummy, my silence let her go.

Sure, maybe all she wants from me is a one-night stand. If that’s truly all she wants I’d find a way to live with it.

No, fuck that.

I’ll do whatever I can to convince her to give me—us—a shot. Even if that means fighting dirty and using my face scruff to do the convincing.

Now I have to find her, and I have no idea where she lives.

Grabbing my phone, I bring up her contact info. I call her, but it goes straight to voicemail. Several more tries get me the same result. With a sigh, I drop down to the couch, run a hand over my chin, and call the only other person who may be able to help.

She answers on the third ring and the curt tone of her voice when she does makes me wince. “This better be an emergency, Weller. I’m not even joking.”

“Good morning, Jazz. Merry Christmas.”

“Don’t you good morning me. Christmas or not, you are far from my favorite person right now.” I can’t see her, but I know she’s giving me that ball-withering look of hers. I’ve seen her give Gordon that look enough times, I try to avoid being on the receiving end of things.

I sigh again and nod, even though she can’t see me. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be calling you today—”

“Do you think that’s why I’m mad at you right now?” She cuts me off. “Because you’re calling me on Christmas? What the hell did you do, Mick?”

Her question makes me take a metaphorical step back. How would she know something happened? Unless… “You talked to Tessa?”

“I actually did not get a chance to talk to Tessa,” Jazz bristles. “I woke up with a text from her telling me she’s quitting the organization and now her phone’s off. So, I ask again. What the hell did you do?”

“Technically, I didn’t do anything. We had this amazing, mind blowing—”

“I don’t need details.”

“—night together and when I woke up, she was gone.” I sink back against the couch. “No note. No text. Nothing. She really quit?”

“Yep.”

The thought of not seeing Tessa every day, of not seeing her ever again, makes my blood run cold. “I need her address.”

And she laughs. A full-on, clutch-your-belly kind of laugh. “What makes you think I want to help you after you made a mess of things?”

“Let me fix them. Please.” I pause and take a deep breath. “I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t.”

Now it’s Jazz’s turn to sigh. “You’re lucky it’s Christmas and I’m feeling generous.”

NINE

Tessa

A pounding on my front door jolts me from my nap. In my dazed state, I don’t realize how tight the blanket has wound around my legs, and instead of rolling off the couch to stand, I roll off the couch to the floor. Not only am I a mess, but I’m a hot mess.

My hair is sticking out in multiple directions, my eyes are puffy from crying, and my left arm hurts from landing on it. This is shaping up to be a fucking fantastic Christmas.

The pounding continues, but whoever it is will have to wait until I get myself untangled from this fluffy death trap.

I know my parents didn’t suddenly decide to give a shit and want to be a part of my life. There’s no way it’s Mick. Jazz and Linc are probably still snuggled in bed. It’s probably Mr. Gilbert again. He’s in his eighties and slightly senile. He wanders the hallway in his underclothes a couple times a month, although he’s never been this impatient.

“Hold on, Mr. Gilbert. I’ll be there in a sec.”

---