Page 24 of The Jinglebell War
CHAPTER SIX
Garrick
I wake up with a smile on my face from the delicious dream I’d been having about Blue. We were at her apartment together, just like we were three days ago, but instead of crying, she’d grabbed my head, pulled me down, and kissed the hell out of me. Then, just like she has in my dreams every night since I decorated her apartment, she stripped me bare and we had a hate fuck to end all hate fucks.
Demon might be ruining my life, but she’s also giving me the best dreams of my entire life.
Those tears when I left her place, well I try not to think about them. She didn’t want to talk to me about it, and that’s the way it should be. I don’t need to get to know her. I just need to get her to do what I want and, since she’s not doing that, I need to get her out of the mayor’s office.
I stretch and glance at my phone. I blink at it, confused, in that sleepy state between sleep and waking. Then my heart flips over and my mouth goes dry.
“Shit.” Shit, shit, shit. I’m late. I’m so fucking late.
I throw myself out of bed and sprint, naked, to the bathroom. I must have forgotten to set an alarm on my phone. It wouldn’t be the first time, but I’m an early riser and usually up in plenty of time without an alarm.
I usually have time for tea and meditation, time to prepare my brain and body for the day ahead.
Not today. After three nights of dreams about Blue, including frequent wake-ups to take care of the desire flooding my body by taking myself in hand, I’m sleep-deprived and a live-wire of horniness.
After a call into headquarters and a request to delay our clients, I sprint through my shower, dress while I’m still wet, and grab a protein bar on my way out the door. I’m moving so fast, I almost don’t clock what’s been done to my truck.
The sight makes me step back, right into a snowbank, wetting the bottom of my pants leg and shoving cold snow into my boot. My truck has been covered in Christmas lights and there’s a sticker of a Christmas tree with a line through it on the driver’s side door.
I walk around the truck to see someone has written in white on the rear window, ‘I hate Christmas.’ On the tailgate, someone has used black tape to spell out Bah Humbug.
There’s only one person who could have done this. I’m chuckling at her ingenuity, and relieved because this means she’s clearly over whatever was upsetting her the last time I saw her, even as I’m beyond annoyed about how long it’s going to take me to clean this up. On the passenger side door is another Christmas tree sticker, and there’s a stuffed devil strapped to my front grill.
So fitting for my demon nemesis.
I’m already beyond late for my meeting, so I don’t have time to remove all her junk.
My only option is to hold my head high and pretend I love my truck this way.
I also take every back road I know. It takes me twice as long to get to work, but at least I minimize how many people see me. There are already enough people in this town who judge me as an outsider who doesn’t belong. I don’t need them thinking I hate Christmas.
I find the last parking spot right behind the building and I hop out, hoping no one has seen me.
I love the headquarters of Evergreeen Expeditions. I only own about an acre of land, but it’s all mine. As is the building on it. An eco-friendly, hyper-efficient log cabin where all our tours get arranged and started.
I’ve just made it to the front of my truck when Lindsay walks around the side of the building in snowshoes. “Hey boss,” she says with a wave as a family of four emerges behind her.
“Morning, Lindsay.” I hurry toward her, hoping she doesn’t notice the Christmas nightmare behind me.
She stares at my truck, totally ignoring me. “What happened? Did you get into a fight with Christmas?”
“It’s a prank.” I force a smile. “Played on me by a friend with a very poor sense of humor.”
Her brow creases, and she tilts her head to the side. “I know all of your friends. I didn’t think any of them were this mean.”
“I’m late for a meeting.” I hurry past her and the family with her, who are now also staring at my truck. “I’ll get that cleaned up later.”
“It’s okay to hate Christmas, Garrick,” she calls after me. “You’re not alone.”
Damn it. I’m going to have to get Blue to publicly declare herself as the guilty party in order for anyone to believe I don’t actually hate Christmas.
I snort because that’s never going to happen.
The clients from Horizon Solutions are in our small conference room. They’re dressed in business suits and looking like they’re two seconds away from growing fangs and claws and attacking everyone in the place.
