Page 13 of Secret Santa

“Put your feet in my lap,” he requested, pointing toward the ground. When I looked at him funny, he explained, “You said earlier that your feet felt like they were on fire. Let me get some circulation back in them.”

When I continued to hesitate, hechuckled at meand pointed toward the floor again.

“I’m a swimming coach,” he explained. “I work circulation back into the muscles of my kids all the time I promise there’s nothing untoward with me wanting to help bring some relief to your feet.”

The second his hands came in contact with my tired feet I remembered why I’d been hesitant to allow him to touch me. It felt so good. Too good, in fact. I had to bite my lips togetherhardto keep from keening at the sensations overloading my body. It was just a foot massage. Because he felt sorry for me.

“I’m impressed that with all you have going on, you found time to get your decorations up.” He nodded toward my mantle and decorated tree. It was barely decorated. Like minimum effort put forth.

“I’m so slammed Thanksgiving weekend and throughout the holidays that if I don’t get them up now it will be Christmas Eve and my apartment will be cold, sad, and undecorated.”

Why was it that every time his hands would squeeze and rub my calves that I silently willed them to go higher? Like to my thighs. Or between them even, where the oven of my libido turned to simmer.

“I love that even here at your home you’ve brought in elements of the King.”

He pointed toward my newest acquisition. A Nutcracker Elvis. I’d been eyeing it at Olive’s store, but lo and behold my Secret Santa gifted it to me before I could.

“That was a gift.” I giggled, remembering how excited I’d been. “Are you taking part in Fitzy’s Secret Santa?”

Obviously, I knew he was, but I didn’t want to let on that I was his gifter.

“Fitzy is very persuasive.” He laughed, resting his head against his arm. “I’ve got some guy in D10.”

“Oh! Deacon or Spense? They’re the greatest. I can always count on them to help me lift the heavy things.”

“Deacon. And I’m a terrible gift giver.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head, chagrin pulling his lips into an embarrassed smirk. “I’m sure he’s pretty disappointed he got someone like me for a Secret Santa. Unlike me who probably has the best one.”

I tried not to thrill at the compliment. I didn’t want to make it too obvious that I enjoyed hearing he liked my gift. I’d been so unsure how he would receive a stuffed animal. Some men find them emasculating. But given he’d been so worried about his event I thought a little good luck would do him well.

“I know you’re in there, sugar, I see your lights on!” Fitzy called from the door.

“Why is it I feel like I live in a sitcom every single time I run into that lady?” Presley huffed a laugh as he tried to maneuver himself back into a regular sitting position.

“Seriously.”

I shuffled to the door as fast I could on aching feet and tight muscles.

“Fitzy, you missed your calling,” I told her as I opened the door. “If only you’d lived in Los Angeles, you could have played the part of endearing neighbor in any number of sitcoms.”

“And live with all those—Kardashiantypes.” She huffed, wiggling her fingers toward her face before gesturing down the length of her torso. “Thank you, no. I prefer my breasts saggy, and my face my wrinkled. Did you know that by the time she was sixty Joan Rivers couldn’t even close her eyes she’d had so much plastic surgery? Shesleptwith hereyes open. How creepy is that?”

She pushed past me, prepared to take a seat in my living room. I knew the very moment she realized I wasn’t alone. Her usual half distracted, million miles a minute demeanor suddenly ground to a halt. She straightened to her full height, and even fluffed her hair.

“My, my, my—well isn’t this an interesting surprise. Mr. Murray, a pleasure.”

I knew what she was thinking just by the saccharine sweet song in her voice.

“I was short staffed, Fitzy,” I tried to explain, but it fell on deaf ears, she’d already taken a seat next to Presley and waited for his explanation.

“Priscilla needed help at the diner, and I had the day off. She was dead on her feet after working three sixteen-hour days, so I called her an Uber. And now I guess I’ll head out.”

He pressed his hands to his thighs to stand, and Fitzy pushed him back into the sofa.

“Nonsense. You stay. I’m just here for two seconds because Priscilla’s Secret Santa dropped this off at my house a few minutes ago and asked that I give it to her.”

She shoved a Dillard’s shopping bag I didn’t notice she’d brought in with her, toward my feet.

“Don’t mind the bag. That’s mine. In case you weren’t home I was gonna hang it on the door handle.”

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