Page 3 of Texting My Secret Santa

“I was only kidding, Holly,” Dan quips.

I smile. “So was I.”

I don’t want Asher to think of me as a kid. He’s thirty-three, the same age as Dan. Mom and Dad took their time between kids, hesitating about the issue until fate decided for them. I was seven when he was seventeen, eight when he was eighteen, nine when he was?—

Okay, there’s no need for the math lesson, but it’s good to remember that this can never work.

What’sthis? What am I even letting myself think?

“Time to get moving,” Dan says. “Lots to do today. Asher, are you coming with us or taking your car?”

“I don’t mind riding with you. Unless you do.”

Dan answers, “Nah, that’s cool.”

But Asher wasn’t looking at him. He was looking at me with that same tempting smirk on his lips.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” I say, looking out the window as snow swirls in the air, the bright lights of decorations shining from storefronts. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“It’s all right,” Asher mutters.

Dan chuckles. “You will not get very far with the whole holiday thing with Asher, Holly. Unlike you, his parents didn’t somehow know that their kid would be Christmas-obsessed and didn’tgive him a name to match. Unlike you, seeing children build snowmen doesn’t make his week.”

“It’s a time of year like any other.” Asher shrugs. “I’m here to work on making your next cell phone sleeker, more user-friendly, more appealing. Add all the buzzwords you can think of. I’m not here to ‘ho ho ho’ my name into the office.”

Wow, he genuinely is a Grinch. I decide not to let him get to me. He’s done enough of that this morning with the steam rising off his body. I wish I could get that image out of my head. It’s stuck.

I drink in the sights of Christmas, letting the spirit fill me up, ignoring the black hole of good cheer in the car.

Soon, we’re at the office. When we walk into the lobby, Dan looks at Asher and laughs. Asher is gaping at the decorations hanging from the ceiling and then sees the giant tree dominating the center. “You’ve got Holly to blame for all this, too.”

Asher looks at me. “You truly are obsessed.”

“It’s the one time of year where everybody collectively agrees to be happy. Sue me for enjoying it.”

“Somebody really should sue you. It’s grotesque. Have you ever thought about seeing a therapist?” Something about the way he says this makes me like the teasing. Sort of. It’s lighthearted. “Nah. It’s fine, just not for me. Thanks for the ride. I’m going to meet my new department.” Asher waves goodbye as he walks away.

“Have a good first day,” Dan says. He turns to me after Asher is gone. “Cut him some slack about the Christmas thing, Holly. You know he never had it like us when we were kids. Plus, betweenyou and me, he had a girlfriend for a couple of years. I thought things were serious, but she broke it off around Christmas.”

Something about that seems so sick to me—dumping somebody at Christmas. I’ve never had a serious relationship, so it’s not like I can judge.

“They were serious?”

Dan nods. “He’s not one to talk about his romantic life, but they were together for years, so I think they must’ve been. It’s the reason he came home. That, and the job.”

His romantic life is none of my business. Annoyingly, I think of ways to turn his opinion on the holidays around.

“I’ll get prepped for the Secret Santa reveal,” I tell Dan. “I think people are going to love it.”

“I’ve got you to thank. It was a great idea.”

“I just want to record their faces when you give the speech. Don’t think about giving me any credit up there, by the way. I want their authentic reactions. I don’t want them turning to the camera and ruining the natural feel.”

“Fair enough. See you soon, sis.”

We bump knuckles. Dan and I have always been close. Maybe it’s the age thing. When I was born, he was old enough to see me as cute, to be another protector and caretaker, not to view me as the in-the-way kid. Maybe that’s why he let me hang around him and Asher so much. Maybe, then, the crush washisfault.

Or maybe I’m avoiding responsibility because Asher Mitchell is in my life, and I want to spend more time with him, but I know I can’t. I know even thinking of this is dangerous.

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