Page 28 of Scrooge

I saw all the stiff people Alex normally associates with, so it’s no surprise he is the way he is. A bit grumpy, a business professional at all times. He keeps his distance from anything too real. But I would be lying if I said the way his hand settled on my lower back all night didn’t give me goosebumps. I had to really focus on the art so as not to get too comfortable in his arms.

“I didn’t think this through,” I admit to her as I see Mom and Dad rushing around, trying to get a handle on things.

“Probably something that needed to be discussed in the negotiations. Can’t you call him or something?” she prods as the bright flashes of lights continue to streak through the front window. Media are everywhere on the sidewalk outside, and while last night at the gallery, there were a few that approached us, Alex took care of it and somewhat shielded me from anything too full-on.

What he didn’t shield me from was the barrage on social media. My image was trending all last night and while I don’t think there is anything wrong with my normal appearance, I am glad that Laurent helped with something to wear and a professional blowout. Not only did I fit right in at the gallery event, but it made me feel good. It made me feel more feminine, well put together, and confident, not only in that room, but also by Alex’s side. It has been a long time since I felt any of those things. It makes the photos of me that are circling a bit easier to swallow. While social media was mostly positive, the common thread being everyone trying to work out exactly who I am and how I captured the heart of the city's most-wanted bachelor, my privacy has been totally invaded. Images of Alex and me from last night are on every gossip site you can imagine, and I had to private my social media profiles because people are messaging me constantly.

Now, though, he isn’t here. It is just my family and me locked in our store. Held hostage by the three-deep media ring that circles our front door. And while our customers can’t come in or out, I’m glad I did the Thanksgiving window already because images of that fireplace and the train circling will no doubt be viral before the end of the day. I see my mom race back to answer the store phone yet again. It has been ringing off the hook, and every time Mom answers it, it’s another journalist.

“No. I am not going to call him every time there is a hiccup with things. I can handle it,” I say, pushing off the shelves and stepping around to the front of the store. I have no idea what I am doing, but I have to do something. Rolling my shoulders back, I take in a deep breath and walk toward the front door.

“Honey… what are you doing?” my dad asks, frowning, spotting me from where he is near the door, most likely thinking the same thing I am.

“I have to do something,” I tell him, still not really sure what I am going to say or do.

“You don’t always have to fix things, honey. I think we should just close for the day.”

“They will just be back tomorrow, then the next day, and the next. Besides, this is because of me. So I need to make it right.” I have a feeling that the little love story Alex and I have created is one that people are very interested in. There is a loud knock on the door, and Dad and I look over sharply, spotting a familiar man in a suit.

“Alex?” Media go berserk as I rush to unlock the door, and he pushes inside, slamming the door closed before grabbing me.

“Are you okay?” he asks, puffing breaths like he ran here. He grips my arms firmly, looking me up and down, concern etched on his brow. I swallow, trying to keep my composure because no man has ever been this concerned about me. Ever.

“I’m fine. We are fine. Just… customers can’t get in,” I tell him, waving at the front door, which miraculously has now been cleared and two burly security men stand on either side of the door like we are a designer storefront or something.

“Oh…” I breathe out, surprised by the quick change in atmosphere.

“Mr. Tucker. Sir,” Alex says, shaking hands with my dad as I watch on, shocked, not keeping up with exactly what is happening.

“Ahhh, who are they?” I ask, looking back at the front door.

“Who?” Alex asks as he glances around the store, ensuring nothing is out of place.

“The two rambos at our front door,” I explain, frowning in confusion.

“Security. The shop’s security,” he states simply, and my head whips around to look at him.

“You got us security?” my dad asks, baffled.

“And I will have a team at your house by tonight as well. They will be inconspicuous, remain out the front on your street; you won't even know they are there.”

“Look, I don’t think we will need all that,” Dad says, giving me an unsure look.

“Well, it is my fault the media are like this, and while I should have expected it, I did think they might have taken it easy. But I prefer you to have support in case things get a little crazy. It might just be for a few days. Hopefully, it dies down a little once the surprise wears off,” Alex says, running his hand through his hair.

“It isn’t your fault,” I murmur as my mom and Jillian walk up to us.

“This is my wife, Wendy,” my dad introduces Alex to my mom, and I watch as she raises her eyebrows before looking at me, and then… she winks. My cheeks heat in embarrassment as my mom grabs his hand and gives it a shake.

“Pleasure to meet the man who seems to have swept my daughter off her feet.” She’s swooning, and I think I see Alex’s shoulders lower a little at her statement while remorse sinks into my stomach. Mom and Dad have been trying to talk to me about my new boyfriend ever since they found out. I have successfully dodged all conversations so far, because I can’t lie constantly to their faces. They know me too well; they will see the truth in my eyes if they look hard enough, and I can’t break this agreement. So I swallow the guilt that cramps my chest and remind myself that I am doing this for them. There is a method to my madness.

“A pleasure to meet you too,” Alex says, giving her a smile that is a little warmer than I’m used to seeing from him, and I take a deep breath.

“It is so nice for Haylee to have a new man in her life,” Mom continues, and I frown at her from where I stand behind Alex. I don’t want to think about the last man in my life. “You must come for Thanksgiving.”

“I’m sure Alex has somewhere to be,” I butt in, stepping up to him as he looks down at me. Our hands connect at our sides like they are magnets, his fingers entwining with mine with too much ease. I feel his thumb brush across my skin in the motion that has become like his calling card, and my heart thuds. As his gaze sweeps over my face, my breath gets caught in my throat. I lean into his arm, almost like I don’t have the stamina to stand on my own two legs at the moment, and his other hand rises, sweeping a stray hair out of my eye and brushing it behind my ear.

“I don’t,” he murmurs, watching me intently. I am surprised by that fact he has nowhere to be, because I thought a man like Alex would be busy with someone, somewhere.

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