Page 3 of Their Christmas Miracle

Holly

Ugh, take-out? Last fucking thing I want now. That’s all I ever eat when I’m visiting my dad. I was hoping tonight would be different. You know, it being Christmas fucking Eve and all that shit. But no. There’s no such thing as ‘time off’ for CEOs.

“Did you have plans this evening?” my dad asks the dude in the copy room.

“Plans? Tonight?” The guy looks my way, drops his eyes, looks back at my dad. “Uh, I—”

“Oh, of course you did.” My dad touches a finger to his forehead — his equivalent of a face palm. “It’s Christmas Eve. Why wouldn’t you?”

The photocopy dude seems struck mute at this. Then he let out a weak little, “Not…well, not actually.”

“You’d be doing me a solid, Joshua.” My dad turns to me and smiles all apologetically. “I’d really planned to be done by now, but—” he turns back to Joshua “—you know how it goes.”

They have a laugh, the guy looking much less stressed out now that my dad’s around. I sigh, pressing a hand to my stomach. It started grumbling half an hour ago. And gum wasn’t cutting it anymore — in fact, it was just making matters worse.

“Daddy!” I know I sound like a child, but for fuck’s sake, my dad has the attention span of a goat sometimes.

“Joshua?” My dad holds out his hand as if he’s offering me up for fucking marriage or something.

Joshua notices me rolling my eyes. “Uh, I’m not sure—”

“She won’t bite, I promise. Here, I’ll give you the company card.”

“Oh, Mr. Hill, that’s—”

I smile. God, this guy’s hilarious. Cute, but hilarious. He’s so awkward and weird. The look on his face when he first saw me? Priceless. Like I was a fucking alien and I’d just told him what I’d be using to probe his butt with.

And man, does he have a tight ass. I’m so glad he left his jacket in his office, ‘cos I can see every inch of that—

“Lee?”

“Huh?” Shit, had I been staring?

I feel a blush work its way onto my cheeks. Jesus, I’m blushing for this geek?

“You behave yourself now, you hear? Joshua works hard for me, and I don’t want you draining him.” My dad turns to Joshua and gives him another one of those business-y smiles. “I’ll send a car for her when I’m done. You have a merry Christmas, Joshua.”

Joshua lifts a hand. “Of course. Thank you, Mr—”

“Yeah, like, send him an email.” I push past my dad and grab Joshua’s wrist. “Seriously, the whole fucking cow, dude.”

“Language, Lee!”

“Sorry, Daddy!” I yell over my shoulder, giving Joshua a quick smile as I tug him along behind me. “You’re slowing me down, dude.”

“Just—could you—I need my—”

He tugs free. I spin around, about to throw a fucking tantrum when my eyes happen to drift down. Okay, they don’t happen to fucking nothing — his boner’s pretty damn obvious and my eyes are drawn to it like flies to that sticky-tape crap you put up for them in summer.

I start to smile, realize my dad can still see us, and hurriedly smooth my face.

“Oh, your jacket, right?” I make as if I’m putting on a coat, face dead serious.

Joshua stares at me for a second, and then utter mortification rolls over his face in a slow, delicious wave.

God, I want to laugh so hard right now.

“Yeah, it’s cold out there,” I manage, my voice tight with the amount of control I need to keep it in check.

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