Page 13 of Second Chances with St. Nick

“Thank you for rescuing me. I always seem to get myself in the most ridiculous scrapes.”

Nick took a sip of his drink. “I remember.”

I paused, but he didn’t say another word. Was he going to make me beg? I mean, I probably deserved it, but still. I shifted on the couch and wound my fingers through my hair.

Nick pulled in a breath. “What is it, Abbie?”

“What do you mean?”

“You keep looking at me.”

Busted.

“I’m sorry, it’s just without my glasses I can’t see you clearly. But from what I can make out, you’re dressed as Santa. I guess I didn’t have you down as a man who wore fur or hung out with reindeer.”

The apples of his cheeks lifted a touch, and I wished I had those glasses on to see his smile.

“Maybe I enjoy dressing up. I might’ve been heading out on a hot date with Mrs. Claus. Maybe the snow sidetracked me.”

Why did the idea of him being on a hot date with anyone leave a nasty taste in my mouth? “Are you telling me you’re married now, Nick?”

I aimed for humor, but his smile faded. “No. I’m not married.”

His voice was so quiet; so gravelly. My toes curled. The sound of his breath filled the space between us. It came faster than it had a few seconds ago.

“Nick...?”

“No, Abbie.”

I pulled myself up, tucking my legs under my body. “What do you mean, no?”

He took a mouthful of his brandy. “I told you last night. I don’t want to revisit the past. There’s nothing to be gained from it. We’re two different people now.”

I drew my brows tight. He wasn’t wrong. I was a newly single narcissist survivor, and he had the build of a yeti. Not to mention he was hands down the handsomest man I’d seen in forever. But I needed to tell him what happened all those years ago and why. I needed him to hear me and even if he could never forgive me, I needed him to understand. To see I hadn’t set out to hurt him.

I ran my eyes over his face. Though I couldn’t see him in twenty-twenty, I could tell he’d locked his jaw tight and stared straight ahead. A log popped on the fire, throwing sparks into the hearth. The sudden flare of flames lit an idea in my mind. A way to get Nick to listen to me.

I reached for his arm, and he turned his head toward my hand.

“Look, I know you don’t want to talk about… us. About what happened.” I pushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear, gathering my thoughts. “And I don’t blame you. I messed up, and I can’t change that. But maybe we can try something else?”

Nick let out a long breath. “What do you mean?”

“How about this—we’re strangers tonight. I’m just a girl called Abbie, stranded at a hotel on Christmas Eve, and you’re…” I glanced at his Santa suit with a small smile. “You’re St. Nick. And I need to ask you for something.”

The silence between us gaped like a chasm, and my body fizzed. Like I’d tip into the void if he didn’t respond.

Finally, gloriously, he replied. “I’m listening.”

“Just for tonight, let’s pretend we’re not us. You don’t have to be Nicholas, and I don’t have to be… well, the girl who made the biggest mistake of her life.”

He turned his body to face me, and I ran my fingers over his velvet sleeve.

“You want to role-play? You’re serious?” he asked.

I mean, it could sound a little kinky in the wrong circles, but I’d try anything. If I played this right, I could get him to open up to me. I nodded. “Why not? Neither of us are going anywhere tonight.”

After the longest beat, he lifted his eyes to mine and shifted on the leather. “Okay. You’ve got St. Nick’s full attention. Tell me. What do you want for Christmas?”

---