Page 19 of Snow Harm, No Foul

I all but jump off the bed and put my jeans back on. A minute later, I hand her a couple of wipes and a spare shirt. It’s my favourite one, but I’m eager to part with it if it means she’ll be wearing it.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

I grunt in reply.

It would be polite to turn and give her privacy while she dresses, but I can’t find it in me to do that right now. Not when it could be the last time I’ll get to see her like this. Fucking hell, it sounds like a wicked brand of torture to only have a woman like Ivy Bell once in your life.

Maybe I deserve that.

No, I’m sure I do.

My marks cover her shoulder and chest, and I stare at them, trying to memorize each one before my shirt falls down her body. The black material is so old it’s started fading, and the bleach stains are everywhere, but it’s comfortable.

She’s quick to wipe herself clean and drag her jeans up her thighs. When they reach her ass, she winces but doesn’t make a peep.

“We should talk about the event now,” I say.

It’s the wrong thing to say. Even before she takes a physical step away from me and hurt slashes across her features, I know that I’ve fucked up.

Work doesn’t fucking matter to me right now. Nothing does but her.

“We can discuss the event over email. I have other plans tonight,” she replies evenly.

“With who?”

“Someone.”

My shirt hangs off her shoulder and down to her knees. With quick, harsh movements, she collects the fabric and tucks it into the front band of her jeans before collecting her purse from the table. In her anger, she swings her purse too hard and sends it careening into the Christmas gift bag. It falls onto its side on the table, and whatever is inside of it clacks against the wood.

“Need that, too? Agiftfor the someone you have plans with?”

Her features tighten with anger as she fixes her purse onto her shoulder and stalks toward the office door. “Just a giant Scrooge I was warned about.”

I ignore my instinct to go to her and lift the bag by its handle instead. The tissue paper has shifted in the fall, no longer keeping the contents inside hidden.

I’m overly cautious when reaching inside of it and discarding the paper. I touch the clear jar and tap the gold lid before pulling it out and holding it in front of me.

Peppermint-flavoured moonshine in a jar made into the shape of a stocking for a so-calledScrooge. Jealousy swirls inside of me when I think of her giving this or any other gift to a man who isn’t me.

I set the jar down and reach back inside the bag to grab the second item. It’s soft in my hand, but I don’t recognize what it is until I pull it out and unfold it.

A Christmas sweater. The knitted kind.

My jealousy swells, and I abandon the gifts to ask Ivy who exactly they’re for and why she made one for them if she knew she was coming to meet with me tonight. Only she’s not here.

I’m alone, and the door’s wide open.

6

IVY

THREE WEEKS LATER

“Where areyou with the Let’s Get Blitzen’d preparations?”

Grayson’s voice has me jerking up in my office chair and swiping the drool away from my chin. With my eyes heavy, I look to where he’s watching me from the entrance to my cubicle. Today, he’s shed the suit and opted for a stiff turtleneck colour matched to the bland paint in the office.

“What?” I ask.

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