Page 25 of His Off-Limits Christmas Gift

“Sure.” I smiled the best I could and headed out with him.

“Want to drop all those off first?” he asked.

“Nah. I have to double-check them all again. I’ll set them down in my office first.”

“Waste of paper, if you ask me. Those could all be attachments. Digital files.”

“You wouldn’t hear an argument from me.” I huffed a laugh. “I bet no one keeps these ‘handy’ for reference. Everything is digital.”

“Some things are better on paper, though.”

I glanced at him as we got into the elevator to go up to my—our—floor. “Like what?”

He shrugged, pushing the button to close the doors. “Books?”

I made a face. “No thanks.”

He furrowed his brow. “I kind of recall you being a bookworm when you weren’t trying to tag along with me and Brandon back home.”

“I was. I am. I do love to read, but paperbacks take up too much space.” I stepped off the elevator, and he followed me to set the papers on my desk. All the way through the office and back out, we kept up this slight bickering about books.

“I didn’t say paperbacks. Hardbacks.”

“Why?” I snorted a laugh. “Those are even heavier.”

“Then you need to strength train,” he teased, pretending to feel my bicep.

“Reading is exercising this,” I said, tapping his temple.

“Damn, youareshort,” he joked as I reached up to touch the side of his head.

“You’re only now noticing?”

“How do you get things down at a store?”

I rolled my eyes as I wrapped my coat around me tighter. Snow had yet to come, but the temps weren’t fooling around. “I don’t—unless I ask a stranger if they can give me a boost.”

He chuckled, showing me on his phone where he wanted to get lunch. “I think you’ll like this place.”

I glanced at the screen, smiling when I saw that it was a BBQ place.How can he remember that I love BBQs?“Looks good.”

“What if a stranger isn’t around to give you a boost to get something off a high shelf?”

“Then I climb up and get it.”

“Oh, my God. Remember that one time when someone’s kids climbed the shelves at the market back home?”

I nodded, amused that the story was known by all in Rockton, regardless of age. It was like an urban legend—or proof that everyone knew everyone else and some things were never forgotten. “I think it was those twins who lived by the school.”

“They tore the whole shelving unit off the wall,” he added with laughter.

“And it was about this time of the year, wasn’t it?”

“It was. Because the market’s owner always dressed up as Santa for the holiday night fair and he was an asshole to them, telling them they wouldn’t get anything for Christmas.”

“See, I’m not a fan of all this,” I said, flicking my hand at a trail of red- and white-striped ribbon fluttering from a door decoration as we walked, “but even I wouldn’t stoop that low.”

“Why aren’t you a fan?” Without missing a step, he leaned over and ran his hand through the low-hanging bells strung from another kitschy Christmas decoration. “Everyone loves Christmas.”

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