Page 15 of Secret Santas and Holiday Dances

She was going to Choco-Latte and buying the biggest box of chocolates she could find.

Chapter 8

Liam entered Life on Canvas with a copy of the Harvest Ranch Times tucked under his arm and made his way to Grace. She sat hunched over her desk, working intently on something. She’d pulled her hair back in a high ponytail that spilled over one shoulder, and she wore a cute pale pink button-up that complemented her pale skin. He was almost at her desk before he noticed all the chocolate wrappers splayed across her desk and the piece of charcoal she held in her hand, dusting the tips of her fingers in black as she drew something on a piece of thick art paper. She had on headphones, bit that perfectly plump bottom lip, and was so focused on her drawing, she hadn’t noticed him yet.

Fine by him. He enjoyed watching her.

Occasionally, she’d drawn doodles on napkins when they’d gone out for lunch, and he’d seen art supplies in her car a time or two, but other than that, he had seen little of her work. She was so reserved and shy about her talents; it took a lot for her to even talk about them. She talked about them with him. She just hadn’t really ever shown him any of her art. Not really. There had been one sketch she’d done of him on a napkin. She’d drawn it up in minutes. He was sitting on one of the Maple Park benches, arm draped over the back, staring at something on the ground. He’d loved it, and said so. She had a way of capturing that something extra that made a piece stand out. She’d chucked it after lunch, and he regretted every day he hadn’t gone back and pulled it from the trash.

Quirking his head to the side, he glanced down at her self-portrait and caught his breath. It was brilliant—and not only because it looked exactly like her, with the little rosebud lips, large eyes, straight nose, and oval face, but because there was so much emotion, anger, sadness, frustration, coming from the eyes of the Grace on the page that he felt like he was seeing her for the first time.

Without thinking, he stepped right up to her desk and reached out to the page. He wanted to turn it. To get a better look. But before he could, her head shot up, and she startled back with a yelp.

“Liam!” She gripped the arms of her chair in a death grip. “You scared the life out of me.”

He chuckled, couldn’t help it. He hadn’t been expecting that reaction.

“What are you doing?” She rolled her chair forward quickly and covered her drawing with other papers on her desk.

He held up his left hand, showing her his watch. “Lunch?”

“Oh,” she said, then her face flushed. “Oh, no!”

“You sure are jumpy today,” he said, grinning. He pointed to the drawing she covered up. “Is it because of your drawing?”

She glanced down. “No. What? That? That was nothing—a doodle.”

“It was some doodle.” She pulled it out from under the stack, folded it in half, and dropped it in her trashcan.

He furrowed his brow as it sank inside the metal bin.

“I was just brainstorming some marketing ideas for next quarter.” She grabbed a couple of tissues from a box on the edge of her desk and wiped at her fingers. “It helps to scribble. Liam, listen . . .”

Clearing his throat, he changed the subject. He didn’t want to hear her slam her work. So, he dropped the Harvest Ranch Times on her desk.

“The Secret Santa Strikes Again.” That was the headline on the front of today’s paper. He leaned his hip against her desk. “Secret Santa sure is drumming up a lot of attention. I wonder how long until someone finds her out. Everyone wants to know who she is. I know I’m curious.”

Grace blushed. “Well, he’s—”

“Or she,” Liam inserted.

“Or she is keeping it a secret for a reason, I’m sure.”

He placed his hand in the middle of her desk and leaned toward her until she had to tilt her head back to look at him. “Like what?”

She blinked those long, dark lashes, so much darker than her silvery hair, and he couldn’t help but to grin. She had a little smear of charcoal along her jawline.

“Smudge.” He reached forward, and she froze. He wiped the smear off with his thumb, holding eye contact the whole time. “Why would he keep it a secret? Brainstorm with me?”

Gritting her jaw, she shoved to her feet.

He lurched back to keep from butting heads.

She gathered the wrappers on her desk in an agitated flurry and tossed them in the bin. They were all from chocolates. Okay, something was definitely up with her.

“Maybehedoesn’t want the attention,” she said. “Or believes in doing good deeds for the sole purpose of doing a good deed. Maybehe’shandpickedhisrecipients over months and doesn’t want to be questioned onhischoices.” She whipped her gaze up to Liam’s. “Or maybehe’sjust a private person and his motives are none of your business or anyone else’s.” She grabbed the Times and chucked it in the trash as well.

He grinned at her. Had she always been this adorable? Yeah, he was pretty sure. “What’s with all the chocolate wrappers, Grace? I thought you and chocolate had a bad relationship?”

---