Page 70 of Clause & Effect
“She has uncanny propensity to choose a man with zero moral compass. At this point, we think it’s a gift.” I like this side of him, the stressed-out brother side. Leave it to Stetson to look more worried over his sister’s bad dating habits than a freaking polar bear orgy. Men.
I really do love his sister even more though. I’m already planning to meet her, befriend her, and plan happy hour with her.
“I’m happy you find this amusing.”
“I might have dated a few men from Red Flag as well,” I admit. “Bad boys are their own kind of irresistible and I dunno, sometimes a giant red flag is exciting.”
His eyes narrow into tiny slits. Uh oh, Santa’s heir just lost all his Christmas joy over that statement.
“I’d prefer if we don’t talk about what came before.” He grates out.
“Red happens to be in your future,” I reply with a wink trying to erase that frown of his.
From the way he’s still scowling I can tell he doesn’t like this new direction in our conversation. Even though the feminist side of me should push back, I kind of don’t want to. Because let’s be honest, it’s hot when a man that looks like this wants you to be only his.
And his alone.
And doesn’t want to hear about before…
Because maybe…
Just maybe…
He’s all that comes after.
Period.
After spendinga few more amazing hours in Santa’s sleigh, we head back to the big man’s house. Luckily, he isn’t home, the kitchen looks like no one’s ever even used it—which is crazy considering that war zone it looked like when we left.
“This is unbelievable,” I look around in awe. “Is your dad a Virgo?”
“Ha,” Stetson finds this vastly amusing. “If by Virgo you mean type A, the answer would be no, he’s lucky he has so many people around him keeping his life intact.”
Huh.
So Santa’s unorganized. I guess it kind of tracks. I mean, jolly old St. Nick has too many other things to worry about in life. He’s giving kids toys around the globe, for heaven’s sake! I still can’t wait to ask Stetson how all that works.
“Hungry?” He asks me this as he takes a bite out of a frosted cupcake.
“It’s really astounding,” I mutter in disbelief.
“What is?” He chomps away.
“How much you eat,” I shake my head. “And all the sugar. Since you told me you’re mortal and all, it’s not that good for you mmm k?” I remind him. “The last thing you want is to have a heart attack on the sleigh.”
“I know, sweetheart,” he gives me a tender smile and my heart drops.
I love everything about that sentence and the way he says it.
“I only really eat this way over the holiday season.” He winks. “Cross my heart.”
“So you don’t touch sweets for eleven months out of the year?” I’ll never believe him if he says yes. If he says yes, he’s a liar and will always be a liar. This is the final test of whatever this is. The answer to this question.
He shrugs sheepishly then admits. “I may have a small, sweet tooth.”
“Define small?”
He says nothing but his eyes move to the pantry. I bolt before he can stop me and throw open the door—it is his house after all. “Holy Mother of God!”
