Page 27 of Texting My Secret Santa

Isit at the bar, sipping a whiskey. I’m not a big drinker, but my head is a mess.

What the fuck was I thinking?

I wasn’t thinking. That’s the point. I was alone with Holly, staring into her sassy eyes, listening to her self-confident words. Then, an avalanche triggered in me. All my noble ideas about self-restraint and ignoring my desires went right out the window.

I sip my whiskey, looking at her latest text. This is wrong. I’m still playing games. Texting her is almost as tempting as kissing her. I should ditch this Secret Santa phone, buy her some scented candles, and be done with it. Then I can pretend the kiss never happened, just like she said.

She looked so angry with me. Was she angry that I kissed her or that I wasn’t kissing her again?

She made a good point when I wanted to go into the office and give that Derek douchebag a dressing down. She anonymouslysubmitted a video to get her job. She irrefutably doesn’t want anybody to think she’s getting special treatment.

Special treatment is all I want to give her, but not in a workplace sense.

I wonder if she’s suspecting who her Secret Santa is. Her text seems to hint at that, but I don’t want to tear off that Band-Aid and reveal the sore spot beneath. There’s too much baggage with Holly and me.

Even as I sip my whiskey, I taste her lips instead. Her mouth was immediately addicting. Her body made me want to be with just her, nobody else. I’m not saying I’m some lunatic becoming infatuated or anything like that.

In that moment,as we kissed, we felt trapped in a damn snow globe. I didn’t care and couldn’t think about anybody or anything else. It was like the future ceased to exist. The past didn’t matter. It was just us, all shaken up, the holiday spirit filling us up more than this booze.

“Another, sir?” the barman asks.

“No. Get me a Diet Coke, please.”

“Sure.”

The temptation for another drink is there. I won’t lie. All I’ve got to do is think about my childhood, and I find the willpower to temper those desires. If only it were as easy to control my desire for my best friend’s sister. My life would be a hell of a lot easier in that case.

“Mr. Mitchell?”

I turn. It’s Mia, the woman with the same name as my ex. She’s dressed differently from work. She’s still looking at me in a way that makes me uncomfortable, implication in her expression.

“Hello, Mia,” I say politely.

“I thought it was you.” She giggles for no reason. “What are you doing sitting all alone, sir?” She looks buzzed, more forward than usual.

“Just clearing my head. Are you with your boyfriend?”

I ask this to make it clear I’m not interested. Judging from her reaction, she takes it to mean I’m fishing for information. “No, I’m here with some friends…”

“Oh, okay.” How can I get rid of her without being rude?

“Sir …” She moves her hand across the bar. “Therewassomething I wanted to say. I’ve been wanting to say it ever since you started. You might think I’m stepping over the line. I might regret it once this wine wears off, but …”

“Let me stop you there, Mia. I don’t want you to say anything you’re going to regret. If you still want to say it when you sober up, you can in the professional setting of the office.”

She looks stung. I feel like an ass, but it would be worse to lead her on, wouldn’t it?

“Okay,” she mutters. “Fine. Have a great night,sir.”

So much for establishing myself as the approachable boss when I started on this team. She leaves, tossing her head. I put down a fifty, grab my cell, and leave the bar, abandoning my Coke. I’ve only had one drink, so technically, I can drive, but I decide to go for a walk first.

There’s an obnoxious amount of Christmas merriment everywhere I go. Bright lights and carol singers and people talking loudly about their holiday plans.

Snowflake is right. I really am a Grinch. Not that she knows she’s callingmeGrinch.

I sit in a park, not caring about the cold. It clears my head.

I take out the phone. I want to speak to Holly about the “Derek situation,” but she probably won’t discuss it after the kiss. Maybe she’ll talk to her Secret Santa.

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