Page 53 of Flirting with the Scrooge

“If that’s the case, he’s leaving either way. Why not spend that time with him instead of moping around wishing you were with him?” Rylee raises her eyebrows at me.

“She has a point.” Olivia lifts her drink toward me.

“You’re right. I would rather spend what little time we have together now and when the time comes for him to leave, I’ll just figure it out then.” I know it’s going to be hard to say goodbye, but it’s better to enjoy our time together now instead of cutting it short.

Rylee stands to her full height. “But let’s think about the real reason. That’s a lot of potential orgasms you’d miss out on.”

“Yes!” Olivia points her drink toward Rylee. “You need to continue letting him stuff your stocking.” Olivia laughs. “Or shimmy down his chimney.”

“Let him roast his chestnuts on your open fire.” Rylee nods.

“Oh! Oh! You can continue stroking his North Pole,” Olivia adds.

“Okay. Okay. Point taken,” I say between giggles.

“Last one.” Rylee leans in. “Let him spread your Christmas cheer.” She wiggles her eyebrows, and we all fall into a fit of giggles.

From my purse, my phone rings and I pull it out. I stare at the screen asMrs. Fieldsflashes at the top, which is odd since we’re not the type of neighbors to call each other and definitely not at 8 p.m. I press the green phone icon. Her voice is frantic. All the noise around me dissipates. All I can do is nod as I concentrate on the words she’s telling me. My heart plummets to my stomach. I end the call and jump off my stool.

“What’s wrong?” Olivia asks, fear and concern lacing her voice.

I choke on the words as they fight to escape. “There was a fire at my house.”

TWENTY-SIX

SANTA’S ON FIRE

Connor

I pace from one side of the kitchen to the other, only half listening to the conversation with my agent on the phone. Something about getting my ass back to LA and into the studio to record our second album. This event. That event. Blah. Blah. Blah. All shit I don’t care about right now. I round the corner and wander into my living room. An orange glow from the picture window catches my attention from the corner of my eye and I freeze. Oh shit!

“Spence I gotta go. Santa’s on fire.”

“What? Wait! Conn—”

Frantically, I press end and dial nine-one-one.

“Nine-one-one. What’s the emergency?”

“There’s a fire. At my neighbor’s house.” I finish answering all their questions while I shove my feet into my boots and yank my coat off the hook. When they inform me help is on the way, I hang up and toss my phone onto the couch.

I race out my door, down the driveway, and over to Tatum’s. Flames dance and flicker on the right side of her yard. The manger and the inflatable snow globe are a lost cause, but I might be able to save the Santa sleigh, reindeer, and a snowman. I trudge through the knee deep snow on the left. Yanking the decorations out of the snow, I unplug them and toss them to the side. Sirens blare in the distance as I continue moving through the snow to save anything I can get my hands on. Minutes later, red lights flash against the house’s siding.

“Hey! You need to get out of there!” a firefighter yells from the truck.

When I notice the two lighted angel decorations, I yank them out and toss them to the side. She’d be devastated if she lost those. Someone else yells at me, so I make my way out of the snow as three firefighters work on extinguishing the fire.

An SUV flies down the road and slides to a stop. Tatum jumps out in a panic.

“Oh my god! What happened!” she screams, fear and panic clear in her voice. A firefighter holds her back to prevent her from getting too close. By the way, she’s nodding, he’s telling her something but I’m too far away to hear.

Tatum’s hand rests over her mouth as she stares in disbelief as they work to put out the last of the fire. Smoke and the wrecked odor of burnt plastic swirls around us. Her gaze drifts my way, and we lock eyes. There’re no words I could say to make this better. I wish I did but with how she left my house, I’m sure she wouldn’t want to hear whatever I’d have to say anyway. Unable to bear her sadness any longer, I drop my gaze. I stroll back to my driveway as Tatum continues to talk to two men in uniform.

Once I’m inside, I watch as the last of the fire is extinguished. On the right side of her yard, there is nothing but black ash and patches of melted snow. She must be dejected. I know how much she loves Christmas and the decorations.

I continue to watch until all the fire trucks leave. She strolls through the aftermath of the fire, picking up pieces of melted plastic and tossing them to the side. She kicks at a pile of snow before she stops and her shoulders drop.

All I want to do is go over there and wrap her up in my arms and let her know everything will be alright. I want to tell her they’re only decorations, and everything can be replaced, but I know they’re much more than that to her.

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