Page 11 of The Bad Boy's Secret Santa

Eli’s head snaps to me, “Army vet?”

“She didn’t tell you?” Glenn asks. “Of course she didn’t. She isn’t one to brag.”

“You were in the Army?” Something in Eli’s dark eyes flashes. It’d take more than one lifetime for me to forget the meaning behind that panty-melting look. The one I’veneverbeen able to resist, no matter how pissed I might have been. My pussy tingles with desperate desire, remembering the expert way of his tongue.

I have to get out of here.

Now.

I glance at my watch even though I know it’s early, desperate to get as far away from Eli as possible. It’s suddenly too hot to breathe. “Excuse me, gentlemen. I forgot I have to be somewhere.” I make a mad dash through the crowd, desperate for some cold air. I don’t stop until I’ve reached the bar and grill for mistletoe and margaritas.

Chapter Seven

ELI

Armed with two cups of coffee—one caramel expresso for me, one white chocolate peppermint mocha with extra whipped cream for Piper—I follow the path around the east side of the four-plex to her front door. I hope the caffeine will be enough to coax her out of hiding after the way she disappeared from the VFW party the other night.

I’ve given her two days, sensing she needed some space and threw myself into preparing Roy’s house for sale. Though the house was in meticulous shape, the yard was another matter. I’m still shocked that she joined the Army shortly after high school. Turns out Piper Stanton is more badass than I ever was.

A reindeer crafted from reclaimed wood sits beside the front step, a sign hanging from its neck that readsMust Believe in Christmas Magic to Enter. Through the window, colorful lights dimly twinkle from a fat, fully decorated Christmas tree. It reminds me of the way she used to love the tree lighting ceremony in town. Used to? I bet she still does. I wonder if that’s happened yet, or if I arrived too late?

I bump the doorbell with my elbow.

A holiday song breaks off mid chorus a few seconds before the door opens.

“What are you doing here, Eli?” Piper asks, her tone exasperated.

“Good morning to you, too.” I hold out her mocha in offering. “We have a full day ahead of us.”

“We do?”

“I thought we’d start at the food bank, then stop by the toy drive down at the church—though I might burst into flames just walking into that place—and then maybe we’d round out the day stopping by the community club.”

She doesn’t say anything, but she’s quick to snatch the coffee. Taking a cautious sip, she allows the door to open a little more. Revealing more of the curvy beauty in skin-tight leggings and a loose, long-sleeved red shirt that hangs off one shoulder.No bra strap. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a messy bun. This is the first time I’ve seen Piper without her perfectly applied makeup in years.

What I wouldn’t give to wake up next to this natural beauty every morning for the rest of my life.

“Hit the spot, did it?” I ask now that her expression has softened.

She licks her lips. “You remembered.”

“I remember a lot, Pipes.”

She shakes her head, stepping back and opening the door the rest of the way. “You might as well come in and make yourself comfortable. I can’t go anywhere looking like this.”

I’m about to make a suggestive comment about staying in and enjoying the way she looks behind closed doors, but the explosion of Christmas in her apartment robs me of words.

Garland borders the windows and doorways. Lights are pinned along the ceiling. There are several cutesy holiday signs,festive snowmen, and presents sprinkled throughout. A stack of Christmas DVDs sits haphazardly on the coffee table, next to an open laptop.

“If I’d known you were coming, I still wouldn’t have warned you.”

That’s the Piper I fucking love—strong-willed and unapologetic. I meet her in the kitchen space, doing a dance until she’s backed up against the counter, caged against it by my arms. “I’m happy to return the favor, Pipes.”

“What favor?” But her voice has gone husky.

“Surprising you whenyoucome.”

She takes another sip of her coffee, staring at my chest. As though contemplating something that runs deeper than words. So, when the cup parts from her lips, she doesn’t speak. She simply spins around, putting her back to me so she can fiddle with empty measuring cups on the counter.

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