Page 8 of Winter Wish

“Yeah? Well, keep your mouth shut from now on if you don’t have firsthand knowledge. Stop spreading rumors.” Ezra’s patience was running thin. He had zero tolerance for gossip. He’d had enough of that when his parents divorced, when his uncle and mom died together, and even when Kirsty dumped him and ran off with his head mechanic. “It’d be a real shame to lose the few teeth you have left. Are you hearing me?”

“Everything okay?” Jorie asked, her voice cutting through the tension. Ezra hadn’t even noticed her making her way through the crowded bar. The old man nodded quickly and slipped off his barstool. Ezra gave a grunt of satisfaction as Chip avoided making eye contact, hastily scurrying away.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Are you still planning to walk through the market, or are you ready to head home?”

“Well, I was looking forward to walking through the market to pick up a few more gifts and choose a name from the giving tree in the center of the square, but I don’t have to do it tonight if you need to leave.”

“Nah, take your time.” Jorie looked up in surprise, then blushed. Ezra tipped his head toward the door. It had worked with herbefore when she was hesitating, and what do you know—it worked again. She bolted out like she’d been shot from a cannon.

That was until a rowdy group of people blocked her path to the exit. She stepped to the right to go around, but half-moved toward the bar. She stepped left, only to be blocked again by a shoving match.

Ezra had seen enough. He hurried to position himself between her and the horseplay.

“Move,” he barked. He felt her flinch as he grabbed her hand, but after a moment, she tightened her grip, winding her fingers through his. A few of the guys shot him challenging glances, but it seemed at least a couple of them had some common sense and pulled the troublemakers aside. Once the crowd cleared, Ezra kept a firm hold of Jorie’s hand as he guided her out the door and onto the sidewalk.

“That was some trick.” She smiled up at him, her small, dry hand still in his. It was warm, but not as soft as he’d expected. Then again, she had mechanic’s hands—dry, roughed up, just like his. He glanced down where they were connected, skin to skin. Her blunt nails were unpainted but clean, and though she had delicate bone structure, her grip was surprisingly strong.

Ezra couldn’t remember the last time he’d held hands with a woman. Jorie was a dichotomy of innocence and feisty confidence, and that right there was the allure—the hook she’dsunk deep without even trying. She was a fucking delight to his senses. The fact that he was thinking “delight” should have been a huge red flag.

The desire he thought he’d slaked earlier in the shower flared up again, pulling him back to the imaginary line he’d drawn between his want and his need. God, he wanted her something fierce, but he needed to focus on what was right for his business. Why did he constantly have to remind himself that Jorie was an employee?

“E-Ezra?”

She tugged at her hand still in his. Shit. A hand he was crushing while lost in his thoughts. Hadn’t he just noticed how delicate she was? He loosened his grip but didn’t let go right away. Instead, he rubbed the white lines pinched into her skin until she pulled herself out of his grasp.

“I should only take about an hour. Is that all right?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” he said, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. He tipped his head toward the shops, offering her a direction and the permission she seemed to need. “I’ll be here.”

Jorie tipped her head, studying him with a searching look that morphed into a hesitant smile. Then she turned and wandered up the sidewalk toward the first vendor. He watched as shebought a cup of hot cocoa. He also noticed the guy behind the counter light up with obvious pleasure. After a minute or two of conversation, the asshole scribbled something on a slip of paper and handed it to Jorie as she paid for her drink. She was his, damn it! Did he need to have it tattooed on her forehead?

Ezra planted his hands on his hips and dropped his chin to his chest. It was no use. Resisting Jorie’s appeal was a lost cause. He’d known all along he was fighting a battle he didn’t even want to win. Hell, he’d been with Kirsty for years, and never once had he felt this heart-pounding urge to mark her as his. Jorie had turned everything he thought he knew about himself and relationships upside down.

He had to make sure she was protected and safe… and his alone. He was afraid if he didn’t act soon, he’d lose her to someone else. Just like he had with Kirsty. Only this time, he had the feeling he wouldn’t be embarrassed.

He’d be devastated.

With that thought in mind, Ezra straightened his shoulders and marched up the sidewalk, stopping only when he was mere inches behind her. He glared over the top of her head at the man’s obvious attempt to woo her. The dumbass didn’t even look up; he was so engrossed in what Jorie was saying.

Jorie took a step back, bumping into him. Ezra’s hands instinctively gripped her waist, steadying her.

“O-oh, speak of the devil…ah, here you are,” Jorie said, sounding relieved. She was also blushing as she turned in Ezra’s arms. “Thank you for the cocoa.” She called politely over her shoulder as Ezra slung an arm around her and ushered her away.

Chapter 7

Butterflies danced the Macarena in Jorie’s stomach, a riot of emotions that ranged from “What the hell?” confusion to “Oh, my God!” giddiness. Ezra was being uncharacteristically attentive toward her. He even kept his hand on the small of her back as he followed—no, escorted her—into every shop.

He gave his opinion on which finely tooled leather belt and wallet would make the best Christmas gifts for her dad. And even though she could tell he wasn’t too thrilled about it, he tried the roasted candied almonds he had insisted on buying for her when she commented on how delicious they smelled.

“Oh, look, it’s snowing!” Jorie exclaimed, excitement bubbling in her voice as they wove through the crowd, passing people mingling around the dance floor in the center of the square. A rumbling laughter soon followed. Jorie’s mouth dropped open insurprise as her attention shifted from the soft, scattered flakes falling around them to Ezra. In all the weeks she had worked for him, she’d never actually heard him laugh. Sure, she’d seen him smirk a lot or smile on occasion, but laugh? Hell no.

When the band kicked into a lively country version of "Jingle Bells," Ezra whisked her—and the shopping bags—onto the dance floor. Jorie’s heart raced, her pulse pounding as the song ended and shifted into a much slower, unfamiliar tune.

Ezra pulled her closer, holding her confidently in his arms as he guided her around the floor. A secret thrill rushed through her. She loved to dance and couldn’t believe how well he did it. Jorie’s breath caught in her throat when she peered up through her lashes and saw his dark gaze locked on her face.

“What?” she whispered.

He shrugged. “I like looking at you. Holding you.”

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