Page 10 of Hello Dr. Christmas

“Can you tell I don’t do this often?” I grumble. “I’m terrible at flirting. I have no idea how to like… meet a stranger at a bar. I suck.”

“What are you talking about? I thought it was excellent flirting. Very direct and effective,” the handsome man says.

“Really? Effective?” I raise my eyebrows. “You must be more clueless than I am.”

“I am pretty clueless,” he agrees, sipping his wine and glancing down at me. “How did you hurt your ankle?”

“Just a… vigorous Christmas shopping accident,” I tell him, not wanting to go into the whole situation, at the risk of becoming very depressed again.

“I see,” he responds. “It must have been a really bad accident. I’m sorry.”

“It was nothing,” I say lightly, sipping my wine. “It didn’t ruin my whole life or anything.”

“That’s good,” he responds. “I’ve been trying not to let my thing ruin my life, but I’m not sure I’m succeeding.”

“Sure, you are,” I tell him. “You’re here, and you’re alive, and you’re handsome as hell—and you’re sipping wonderful wine with me. You’re okay. You’re healthy, and you’re going to be happy again someday. I promise.” I pat his leg reassuringly.

He studies me carefully. Then he smiles. “You’re a very positive person.”

“Only when it comes to other people,” I tell him sheepishly.

“Well, then I want to say the same things to you. You’re okay. You’re healthy. You’re here. You’re alive. You’re absolutely beautiful. And you’re going to be happy again someday, too. I promise,” he says, with a sincere nod.

“Wow,” I say, with a sigh. “That’s actually really reassuring. I feel a little better, somehow.”

He nods. “They are good words. A really wise woman said them to me.”

“Am I just really drunk, or are you kind of nice and funny?” I ask him.

“I have my moments,” he says with a grin. “So… would you like to get out of here?”

“And go where?” I ask with surprise.

“I have a hotel room nearby—I mean, if that’s what you were trying to achieve with all the flirting? I’m not good at this either. I haven’t let my family know that I’m in town yet, because I didn’t feel up to meeting everyone and acting all cheerful just yet. So, we could go back to my hotel room, if you wanted.”

My eyes have grown wide. “Yes,” I say slowly, testing the word on my tongue. “Yes, why not? That sounds like a great idea!” Here it is. My reckless, spontaneous Christmas hookup. Eve would be so proud of me. I’m going for it. Picking up my wine glass, I gulp down the rest of the contents before rising to my feet. “Wait—I don’t even know your name. Actually, don’t tell me. Let’s be super duper anonymous.” I manage to give him a sage nod.

He chuckles softly. “Sure, if you would rather not know. But I’m afraid that I heard the bartender call you by name.”

“Just forget you heard that,” I tell him. “You can call me… Mrs. Claus.”

“Mrs. Claus?” he responds with a twinkle in his eye. “Do I have to call you that in bed?”

“Only if you really, really want to.”

He laughs. “Fine—in that case, you can call me Mr. Claus.”

“Hmm. Not the sexiest thing I’ve ever called someone, but I think I can make it work.” Leaning forward curiously, I study his face. “Can I just… try something?”

“Sure,” he says with surprise.

Digging deep for my bravery, I slide forward on my barstool and place a tiny kiss on his lips. Just a very small, very chaste kiss, like dipping your toes in a pool of water to test the temperature before diving in completely.

Mr. Claus blinks. “Whoa,” he whispers.

“Yeah,” I say with a naughty smile. “I can make this work.”

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