Page 22 of Holiday Hook-Up
After a torturous elevator ride, where Emerald’s sugary scent drifted into my pores we walked into the restaurant through the lobby’s interior entrance. The glow of lights from the twenty foot tree in the lobby made the silver and gold ornaments sparkle, and I thought to myself for the second time since I’d arrived that this place held a magical quality that I couldn’t describe in words.
That same ambiance radiated into the restaurant with low lighting, instrumental Christmas music, and freshly cut greenery. Emerald studied the space as we passed through the dining room where families and couples chatted over family-style plates of food.
“Here you are,” our hostess said, stopping in front of a small private room they’d normally use to host parties or business meetings.
“Thank you, and Merry Christmas.” I reached into my jacket pocket and retrieved a folded bill, slipping it into her hand. Emerald watched the encounter with a warm smile as I led her into her chair.
“It looks incredible in here. I’ve never seen this place look this way.” They’d gone above and beyond to make the private space special with dozens of flickering candles, hung evergreen, and silver touches.
“I’m glad you like it.”
She reached across the table and gave my folded hand a squeeze. “I love it.”
With our glasses full of a fruity white wine—which was Emerald’s choice—and food ordered, I sat back. The muscles in my shoulders and neck relaxed for the first time that day. Keeping my feelings for this woman at bay was harder than I’d thought. The unspoken words had me fidgeting with nervous energy.
“Tell me about your favorite Christmas,” I asked, noticing a beautiful blush creep over her chest from the wine.
She thought for a moment, taking another sip before answering. “That’s a tough question. I’m enjoying this one so far.”
“Me too.” That was the God’s honest truth. “So no favorite year from childhood? Favorite toy under the tree? Or what about pictures with Santa or gingerbread houses?”
“Can’t think of anything.” Her face fell and once again, I wanted to kick myself. I hadn’t had any of that either. Unless you counted the one holiday I spent with my father’s girlfriend of the month. She loved Christmas and made sure we did all those typical kid activities crammed into a few days.
I rubbed circles over her palm with my thumb, wanting to pull her into my lap. “I’m sorry. Once again, I want to smack myself in the face.”
“No, don’t be sorry. It’s Christmas Eve. Of course that kind of question would come up.” Swallowing another sip, she went on. “I grew up in the foster system. That’s all I knew. The longest I spent with the same family was about two years, right before I turned eighteen. I have a foster sister that I still talk to every now and then. So yeah, I never had much of a Christmas.”
My heart cracked in two and suddenly I understood some of the comments about Christmas that she’d made all day. I stroked up her bare arm with a comforting caress, thinking of how to respond.
“Now I sound like a sad sack.” She laughed. “I turned out okay without all of that. And don’t get me wrong, I’d gotten a few gifts over the years. Mostly useful things like winter coats or new mittens, which I was grateful for. I guess I just never experienced that Christmas magic that the movies love to play up.”
“You deserved better. All the magic and all the gifts.” My voice cracked, looking into her wide eyes. She was so open and vulnerable with me, with her heart. “If it makes you feel any better, my holidays weren’t a picnic either.”
I sighed and traced a path along the freckles on her arm. She shivered and whispered, “They weren’t?”
Before I could think I found my thoughts tumbling out like a snowball rolling down a hill. “I went to a boarding school year-round. Over the summer, it was more like a camp, but we still had lessons. Christmas was the only time of the year I spent at home with my father. He’d work the entire time, never leaving his office during the day but then go to expensive dinners at night. For those two weeks all I’d wanted was for him to spend some time with me. I didn’t care about presents or baking cookies, although that would have been nice. I just didn’t want to be alone.”
“I’m sorry. I take it you don’t have much of a relationship with him now?”
“He died ten years ago. But no, once I was old enough I stopped staying with him for the holidays. I’d go with my school friends back to their families. We didn’t have a relationship. When I found out he’d passed the company down to me, I almost refused it. But then I thought about all the employees whose lives would be turned upside down if they lost their jobs and figured I’d do what I could to turn Connor Industries into something I could be proud of. Something that no longer resembled the company my father started.”
I hadn’t spoken this much about my father or my childhood to anyone before. People always assumed I had a golden life; rich kid, private school, full ride for college. I knew I was far luckier than most and I appreciated that. And I’d refused to play the part of the sad child whose mother died during childbirth.
Emerald’s gaze lifted as she stared at the white lights. “It sounds like you’ve always wanted to take care of others first. Was it your dream to own a company like this?”
“My dream?” Did anyone actually know the answer to that question?
“Yeah. We talked about how I’d always wanted to work in tourism and help people make amazing memories. What did you always want to do?”
“Be happy.” The words slipped from my lips. “I think I’ve always just wanted to be happy. Whatever I was doing didn’t matter much.”
She nodded with a knowing look. “And are you happy, Logan?”
“Right now I am.”
Here with her, my limbs could relax, I could speak my mind and be myself. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this happy. Even wrapped up in our heated passion last night couldn’t compare to the contentment of this moment.
“Logan,” she said, low and sultry. “Look up.”
