Page 7 of Sleighing You
Chapter 3
Avery
Making Chris put on the green fringed Grinch sweater was maybe a little mean. Then again, hedidsort of deserve it. Even if I had zero intention of actually introducing him to the mayor who was judging the contest today. And I definitely did not want him coming to Nick’s pizzeria tonight for the ugly sweater contest results.
For two hours prior to the store opening, we sat on the floor of my office wrapping presents. At one point, he even jumped up and ran to grab a toy we sold in the store to add to one of the kid’s piles. He had me charge his credit card for it… his personal credit card, I noticed. Not his business card. I had to admit, it was nice having the help. Normally, I spent more than a few nights wrapping those gifts all by myself.
I watched carefully as Chris secured a red bow around the gift he’d just wrapped. With the edge of his scissors, he curled the ends of the ribbon into perfect spirals. My presents didn’t look half as beautiful as his, and he eyed my misshapenly wrapped box. “You want some help?”
“No,” I snapped. “The toy is a weird shape. There’s no way to wrap it normally without some weird bumps and stuff.”
He lifted a dark brow and slid the toy into his lap. “Isn’t there?” With a few sweeps of extra paper, tape, andoh yes, you guessed it… the bow… he had turned my monstrous wrap job into a beautiful masterpiece that rivaled the tower of presents in our display for photos with Santa.
“How did you do that?” I gaped at him.
“I’ve had a lot of practice. My first job was in the wrapping station at my dad’s first store.”
Wrapping station. Hell, we have that here… kind of. It a single table next to the register where my employees wrapped purchases as quickly as possible to get the customers out the door. Not typically the sort of rushed work we strive for, but our store was small, especially for a flagship store, and we just didn’t have the space for a dedicated wrapping station.
“Well,” Chris said, pushing to his feet, pausing to pet Kringle’s head. Dammit. My dog was usually an excellent judge of character, but it seemed like he’d finally lost his edge. “That about does it. We can move these toward the loading bay later this afternoon.”
“Yes, later,” I grunted, ignoring the hand Chris offered to help me to my feet. Instead, I launched myself upright most ungracefully and ignored the way I stumbled backwards, my calf slamming into the corner of my desk. “In the meantime, you can sit at my desk and work.”
If I was being honest, he was right earlier. It was better to keep him tucked away in here and out of sight from the customers. I didn’t need this Christmas hater talking to customers and mess up my numbers. This location had been the most profitable location of StoryBook Christmas shops for five years running… and I intended to make it six.
“I need to go unlock the door and open. You going to be okay in here?”
He was already pulling free a laptop and iPad from his briefcase and setting them up on my desk. “Hm? Oh, yes. I’ll be fine. Thank you.”
The entire weekof Christmas Fest was a marathon—and the town loved it. People came by literally every day to see and take part in the different festivities. Even the Ugly Sweater competition. Christmas Fest brought tourism to Maple Grove for a whole week during a season that was typically fairly quiet for our lakes region town.
The store was shoulder to shoulder with customers. In honor of the ugly sweater day, we were having a thirty percent off sale for our own ugly sweater inventory—always a colossal hit with people of all ages. Everyone from kids to parents to college fraternity brothers loved a good ugly sweater party.
My friend, Lyla, held up a sweater covered in cats wrapped up in Christmas lights. “What about this one?” she asked me.
I tilted my head as she pinched the sweater between her fingers and twirled for me. “I actually think that one is cute. I mean, it’s cheesy, yeah, but it’s not really ugly.”
“It’s a party tonight… I don’treallywant to look ugly.” Lyla rolled her eyes and leaned over to flick a bell on my sweater. It jingled unceremoniously. “Not all of us are trying towinthe ugliest sweater award.”
I laughed and shrugged. “Hey, this sweater isn’t even my worst!”
“Yeah, but combined with that hair?” She cringed and fake shuddered as I shoved her shoulder playfully.
Chris came out of my office at around eleven o’clock… hours after locking himself in there to begin paperwork. His eyes went wide, finding mine from across the room. He towered over nearly every other person in my store—even the folks in town I had always thought were tall. They had nothing on Chris’s powerful frame.
“Uh-oh,” I whispered to Lyla. “Here comes Mr. Scrooge himself.”
“Whoa,” Lyla’s deep brown eyes went wide, locked onto Chris as he waded through the busy store, making his way over to us. “He is… I mean, wow.”
I took the moment to admire him as he approached. Even with all the obstacles and people in his way, he didn’t break stride, but kept his eyes down, dodging lithely around shoppers. His broad shoulders strained against the lime green seams of the sweater I forced him to wear, and I could see the dips and sinews of his biceps beneath the wool knit.
Dammit. Somehow, he still made that hideous Grinch sweater sexy.
“Yeah,” I grumbled quietly. “Until he opens his mouth.”
“I don’t know,” Lyla whispered, dropping her voice as he rounded the Christmas tree toward us. “I wouldn’t mind finding out what kinds of things he can do with that open mouth—”
“Chris!” I cried out, cutting her off. Because, God help me, the last thing I needed was my gorgeous best friend making a pass at my boss—who I’m already having warring lusty/hatred feelings toward. “You joined the land of the living.”
