Page 11 of Tangled In Tinsel & Knots
He leans in, eyes flat and serious for a second. “Depends on how stupid he gets. Solid eight. Maybe nine if he insists on being dramatic.”
I snort. It comes out like a laugh. “He gets very dramatic when he drinks. He’s a ten at karaoke and a nine at terrible decisions.”
“Then definitely nine,” he says. “I prefer efficiency.”
“Same thing,” I say.
He tilts his head, amused. “Fair point.”
We both grin, and for a second, the panic lifts. He makes it feel likely that I can survive Scot.
But I should walk away and go hide in the kitchen until I stop vibrating.
His gaze slides over me, steady and unhurried. There is nothing soft in his eyes. He looks at people the way a wolf looks for exits. And somehow I feel safer standing next to him than I have all night.
“I know men like Scot,” he explains. “If you need help, you can contact me anytime,” he offers.
I study him, this stranger who just derailed my entire evening in the best and worst possible ways. There’s somethingabout him that doesn’t quite fit the Santa costume, something rough and competent underneath the red velvet.
“Thanks. I’m Hannah Parker, by the way,” I finally say. “Though we’re way past introductions at this point.”
His laugh is rough, surprised. “Chris Merrick, from Evernight Retrieval Agency. And yeah, we definitely skipped a few steps.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“So,” he says, voice dropping low, intimate enough that I feel it under my ribs. “Any chance we get out of here? Real drinks instead of spiked cocoa.”
My pulse jumps.
Part of me, the responsible part, knows this is a terrible idea. I just met him. My career is currently smoldering in a dumpster behind the venue. This is absolutely not the moment to leave with a beautiful stranger who kisses like sin and smells like everything I did not know I wanted.
The other part of me, the part still trembling from that kiss, the part that is exhausted from holding everything together, screams yes.
“I can’t.” I check my watch because looking at him is too tempting. “This is my event. I need to stay until the end and make sure everything shuts down properly. Especially after causing that disaster.”
“That wasn’t you.”
“Semantics.” I glance back at him and immediately regret it. Those green eyes leave my stomach fluttering. “I have another ninety minutes before breakdown.”
“And you have to be here the whole time?” he asks.
“Unfortunately.” My throat tightens. “Please don’t leave. Not yet. I need a Santa for the gift-giving part.”
Something in him shifts. Not soft exactly… but focused. Like I just became a priority.
“Yeah,” he says quietly, the corner of his mouth lifting upward. “I’ll stay.”
“Really?”
“Santa sticks around until the party ends.” He cracks his knuckles. “Besides, someone needs to make sure that jackass doesn’t return.”
Heat moves through me in a slow wave. I should tell him I can handle it. That I don’t need protection and this is wildly inappropriate.
None of the words show up. All I can manage is “Thank you.”
His attention settles on me again, heavy and unhurried. He studies me like he’s deciding how far he’s willing to go. And the terrifying part is… I want to know the answer.
“Come on.” Chris nods toward the crowd. “Let’s get you back to work before people start wondering if Santa kidnapped the event planner.”
