Page 36 of Christmas Criminal

And I can't help but wonderwhyI was so ready to sign her timecard and be done with her. As much as I hate to admit it,I kind of enjoyed our time cleaning and building huts. As much as I wouldn't necessarily categorize those things asfun,they felt like Christmas activities. The same way that cleaning up the wrapping paper on Christmas morning isn't a fun job, but it's one that has to be done.

And the joy that comes with it is worth the chore.

I also wouldn't have to be soprofessionalanymore, if I just gave her the rest of her hours.

But that sounds like a dangerous game to play.

Sure, I could tug her into my chest and kiss her in the way I've been imagining, but she could also choose to walk away and never see me again.

And as much as I don't want to admit that I'm scarred from past experiences, it doesn't take a genius to see the lasting effects Emily had on me. The fact that everythingIhad ever wanted was never good enough forher. The way I excused her behavior so quickly because I thought she might be the person I was looking for.

Noelle would be fun, no doubt, if the way she wields that tongue of her is any indication of what her hips can do.

But I'm not in a place where I'm looking for mindless sex. And I'm not sure I can dive headfirst into something more, right now. I'm stuck in the in-between–Iwantsomething more than sex, but I'm not sure I can handle it.

I don't think I realized it until recently, but ever since my mom died, I've been searching for a family of my own. Someone to spend this time of year with other than my students or fellow teachers who invite me out for the occasional beer.

As much as I'd love to bend Noelle over the side of that float, I'm not here for random sex.

And unfortunately for me, she's not here for much longer.

When we finish our cleaning and head back to the front entrance, she's quiet. I surreptitiously glance over at her only tosee her chewing at her bottom lip, her eyes following the ground in front of us carefully.

I push open the front door for her to walk through and she nods to me in thanks.

I follow her to her car, like I do every night.

But when she turns to me, she takes a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling as she lets it go. "Look, I'm sorry," she says, throwing her hands in the air. "What I said was really inappropriate, and you know, I got that vibe from you. The professional vibe. And I feel so bad that I pushed it."

I shake my head, leaning against the side of her car in the hopes that the casual movement might portray that I'm not, in fact, curling up in the fetal position on the inside. "Really no issue, Noelle."

Her nose crinkles. "I must have read the room totally wrong, and I'm really, sincerely sorry. And please, can we forget all of that ever happened?"

Her eyes are on mine, desperately waiting to be released from whatever turmoil is going on inside her head.

And now I have to choose between maintaining that boundary I set and giving her her confidence back.

"Look, you didn't read the room wrong," I tell her.

She eyes me. "I didn't?"

I press my lips together. "I'm trying to be professional, Noelle."

She nods. "Okay." She pulls open her car door. "You're trying to be professional, but it's difficult?"

"What?"

She shakes her head. "Never mind. Sorry, that was an inappropriate question, too."

I squeeze my eyes shut, and when I open them again, I take the outside handle of her door.

"Yes," I say, and then I close her in before she can say anything else.

I catch her eye through the window before turning on my heel and heading back to my car.

It'sthe first day of the fair, and I've been assigned to hot chocolate duty with a number of my students. Mostly mathletes, who decided they wanted to participate in this year's fair to raise money for letter jackets for this year's competition.

Because apparently math nerds have style now. They convinced me into joining by offering me one.

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