Page 35 of Christmas Criminal

"You know, because we'd have to do something."

I bite my lip, watching his eyes as they follow the movement. "Like clean up this very tiny mess?"

He nods, his eyes on mine, and after a few seconds of heated eye contact, he shakes his head. "You know what? All this is pretty silly anyway. I can sign your little timecard and you can head home. It's fake community service anyway, right?"

I shrug. "I don't mind. I mean, I told Hank I would go through with it. Told my mom I'd be around a little more this Christmas. I might as well fulfill my promises, right?"

"Well, we're notdoinganything, right?"

I push the broom back and forth across the floor. He raises an eyebrow.

"I'm doing something," I say.

He's quiet for a moment. "Why?"

Because I want you to kiss me."Because this is my duty."

"Which I'm releasing you of. Seriously, I'll mark down the full two hours. I mean, god, I'll go ahead and give the rest to you. I don't even know how I got in this position. One day, Hank waves me down while I’m on a run and the next he hashis friend's daughter showing up waving a fake timecard at me. Like, take your hours and go. You've served the community."

He takes a deep breath, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I bother you," I say.

He shakes his head. "You don't bother me at all. Really. It just... this whole thing is a little ridiculous."

"No, I mean I bother you in a different sort of way."

He's quiet, his breathing heavy.

I lean the broom against the float and take a step toward him. "I do, don't I?"

He's staring at me, his arms crossed tight over his chest, and I feel the intense urge to slip my hands underneath his shirt and feel the muscles underneath. Stand on my toes and press my lips against the bit of skin above the neckline of his T-shirt.

When he doesn't move away, I take another step forward, resting my hand on his thick bicep.

He looks down at it, his eyes glued to my hand like they might start solving whatever math problem is causing that little wrinkle in his brow.

"Noelle," he says, my name low and gruff from his lips. His eyes lift, meeting mine. "I'm a professional."

"You don't have to be, with me."

He bites his lip, his eyes darting all across my face, and takes a step back.

"I do."

8

NICK

Wednesday, December 11th

I'll give it to Noelle, she doesn't act rejected when I move away from her. On the contrary, she puts all of her efforts into her cleaning. She sweeps away every last bit of trash on the floor, and when that's all gone, she focuses her attention on the float.

The kids have decorated it like a candy cane this year, all red and white stripes. There are a few pieces that have fallen out of place, and she does a circle around the float, putting fresh glue wherever it's needed.

I busy myself cleaning the floor she painted that's already covered in dirt from the kids' shoes. I fill the mop bucket, even though it's overkill for the job I'm doing, and clean slowly, trying my hardest to pay attention to anything but her.

She's acting totally normal, like nothing ever happened, but every time she turns away from me I get this tight feeling in my chest like she's upset with me.

---