Page 13 of The Bad Boy's Secret Santa

“Expecting someone?”

“No…”

“You’re just really fascinated with the door?” she teases.

“I need to get these cookies to Grandma,” I say, as though that explains everything, waving a goodbye as I go.

Dammit, I reallyhavebeen watching the door for Eli.

Never mind that he’s at Roy’s house meeting with the realtor, which is why we had to cut the afternoon short.

The tiny fact that he’s selling his uncle’s house andnotasking me to be there proves he’s not staying. It’s not like he’s secretly looking at houses to buy or anything.

So why is my chest fluttering with hope? Why am I so antsy, wishing it were already tomorrow morning so we’d be together, headed to the animal shelter to make another donation?

I can’t fall for him. Not again.

“I know better,” I say to myself as I pass the park and make a left turn onto Grandma’s street. The grand evergreen tree in the center of the community park is…bare. Odd. Usually the tree lighting ceremony happens a good week before Christmas. There should be volunteers decked out in elf costumes all over the tree. Frank Wilbur is usually up a too tall ladder, stringing garland while Wanda Perkins holds it steady with a white knuckle grip.

A minute later, I pull into the driveway of Grandma’s house and all of my errant thoughts melt away. My world shifts on its axis and I’m a teenager all over again; sitting on my Grandma’s porch swing while the tears flow and she makes hot chocolate.

Eli. Everything keeps coming back to Eli.

I know better than to get swept away when it comes to the bad boy who broke my heart. At least I do this time. Eli may have given me one helluva orgasm this morning, but that doesn’t mean anything’s changed. Drawing his name for the Secret Santa doesn’t mean we’re meant to be together. His life is in the city. As soon as he’s donated the last of his uncle’s money, he’ll pack his bags and jet right out of town again without a second thought.

Christmas is only three days away. I’ve mostly caught up on my Secret Santa duties, aside from finding the perfect gift for him. What was Grandma thinking? Putting a price limit on the gift. I’m having a hard time staying within the twenty-five dollar limit.

It did occur to me, sometime after my orgasm brain settled, that I should be learning more about the event I’m going to take over next year. Participation can only take me so far. I have questions. So many questions.

And I desperately need a distraction where Eli Winchester is concerned.

“Piper, what a pleasant surprise. Come in!”

Grandma’s house smells like freshly baked poppy seed bread and…pie? The bread is myfavoriteChristmas treat. “Baking today?” I hold up my gift in offering, hoping she hasn’t made a batch of cookies yet. If I’m lucky, the snickerdoodles might be enough to entice her to make a trade for a loaf of that delicious, sweet bread.

“Just some pies for the food bank.”

“Just pies?” I ask, twisting to try and see past her to the cooling racks just beyond the pies on her dining room table.

“Maybe some poppy seed bread.”

“Aha, I knew it!”

“It’s just some Christmas baking.”

“I thought we might chat about the Secret Santa event over cookies,” I say, handing the bag to her.

“Oh?” Her eyes light up when she opens the bag and realizes they’re her favorite kind.

“You said there was a bunch of behind the scenes things.” I follow her into the kitchen, surprised by the number of pies that cover the counter. Damn, Grandma’s been busy. “Plus, I have a few questions. Wow. Are these all for the food bank?”

“I may have made an extra one.”

“I’m sure they’ll be really happy to receive these.”

“Say, a little birdy told me the food bank received a sizable donation earlier today. One that’ll ensure all the families in need will have plenty to eat over the holidays. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“Eli.”

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