Page 14 of Sexy Claus

A grunt carried to her ears and a heavy presence at her shoulders assured her that he trailed after her at close range. “I’ll be over at ten.”

“That’s fine.” She suppressed the urge to ask him what the hell his problem was. He’d rejected her, not the other way around.

“I’ll take the outside spot so I have plenty of room.” Brenna pointed to the chair across from her. “Christy, why don’t you go on that side? And Dad can sit between us.”

Well, this should be fun.

Christy settled into the assigned seat and tried to prepare herself for the most uncomfortable evening of her life.

Sven huffed out a sigh, suggesting he wasn’t any happier with the plan than she was. “Are you sure you fit okay there, Bee?”

“It’s perfect.” Brenna’s barely noticeable smirk outed her amusement. Suddenly, her intentions were all too clear.

A matchmaking attempt.

CHAPTER SIX

Sven pusheda piece of pepper away from the edge of the cast-iron skillet, wishing he was anywhere other than sitting next to the woman he’d once expected to marry. Maybe if he kept his gaze on his plate and his mouth full of fajitas, Brenna would stop trying to find ways to make him talk to his former girlfriend. He wasn’t interested in getting reacquainted with Christy Rime, his daughter’s favorite person in the whole damn world. She’d left him and he’d given up on love—the romantic kind.

“Do you have plans for Christmas?” His daughter’s question triggered another lead weight sinking into his gut, especially when the ball of tension radiating off their dinner companion wound tighter.

He refused to subject himself to any more of it. “Bee, do you need a box? We should get going. I have paperwork to do yet tonight.”

She aimed a side-eye at him that told him she saw exactly what he was doing to cut the evening short. “Of course. How about you, Christy?”

Their guest gave a curt nod, making her wavy hair slide over her shoulder. “Yes. It was good, but I guess I wasn’t very hungry.”

Don’t look at her.

With more confidence than she’d shown since her injury, Brenna flagged down their waiter and requested boxes and a single check. “Before you protest, this is to thank you for practically giving me your house, the help when I was stuck in the street, the offer to be my OT, for being nice, and a bunch of other stuff. I can never repay you.”

“I did what anybody would do.” Christy shifted in her seat, clearly uncomfortable with the attention, but that wasn’t why he was staring at her.

I’m weak and a glutton for punishment.

He struggled against the need to contradict her statement, but she truly deserved full credit. “They haven’t done what you have. I’m paying.”

Bee’s smug expression tempted him to leave her holding the bill. His crumbling resolve was all her doing. “You’re right. Thanks, Dad.”

“Thank you.” The quiet acknowledgment brought his focus back to his daughter’s hero. She seemed focused on transferring most of her meal to the box next to her plate, completely unaware of his obsessive need to memorize every little detail about her.

At least he’d finally won a small victory, no small feat given his adversaries. “You’re welcome.”

When they parted at his truck a few minutes later, she hurried toward her car, her loose hair whipping in the cold wind. Once she climbed inside and closed the driver’s door, he set to work helping Brenna into the passenger seat and loading the wheelchair in the bed. The task had become routine during the last several months.

As he rounded the rear bumper, he allowed himself a last look across the parking lot. Brake lights cast a red glow behind Christy’s car, and he waited for a foggy exhale from the tailpipeso he could go home and bury his thoughts in estimates, billing, and payroll—whatever it took to stop thinking about her.

The slow count of thirty passed with no sign of her leaving. Then she opened the door and put her booted feet on the pavement.

He held up his index finger in a just-a-second gesture to Bee and jogged to the far corner of the lot. “Is something wrong?”

Christy growled as she stood. “My car won’t start. I turn the key and nothing happens. Not even a click. It can’t be the battery since I replaced it in April.”

“Sounds like you might have a bad starter.” His still-bitter heart didn’t justify making a woman wait alone in the dark for a tow. He packed up the ache to save for another day. “Come on. We’ll give you a ride and you can call for road service in the morning.”

She pursed her lips, waking the memory of their first real kiss and sending shockwaves through his body. “I’ll walk.”

“Like hell, you will. Creekside isn’t overrun with crime, but it isn’t as safe as it was thirty years ago, especially at night.” He scowled for good measure and crossed his arms in front of his chest. If she sneered at his upcoming ace in the hole, he would resort to a fireman’s carry. “Besides, Bee will hand me my ass on a platter if I let you walk home by yourself.”

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