Page 58 of A Cheesecake Christmas

I have the strong urge to get up and take a walk, but my feet are relaxed without my shoes, and, as co-host, I can’t very well traipse around barefoot, no matter how lovely that would feel.

“You did a good job with this. All of this,” he says.

“You did, too,” I tell him, my gaze dipping down to my half-eaten cheesecake.

“So, the next event is the ribbon-cutting ceremony?” he asks.

I nod. “And then we have to be at the festival as much as we can to mingle and take photos with everyone,” I add.

Until Christmas Eve day, when the festival ends, and we go back to being just neighbors in downtown New Hedge.

He only nods, again deep in thought. He scoots his chair out and is about to stand, when he leans close to me and whispers, “Enjoy your toes’ momentary freedom. Wish I could give them a solid rubdown for you.” The heat of his breath is warming me from head to the very toes he wants to rub, and it nearly does me in.

Before I can even take a breath, he stands and leaves the table. I blink rapidly to try to get back into the moment, trying and failing to participate in the waning conversation as others are slowly leaving as well.

I only see him from a distance the rest of the night. Looks like he’s trying to make a good effort to talk to as many of the dignitaries as he can. I’m so discombobulated that it’s hard for me to comprehend how he can be calm, so perfectly put together at a time like this.

A time like this.

The moment I know, without a doubt, that I’m falling for Theo Carter.

Chapter 22

Theo

I walk back and forth in front of the bakeshop entrance like a sucker, freezing my booty off, the night air biting at my face and hands. There’s so much I want to tell Aria, so much I’d like to explain and do.

Besides, I owe her a foot rub.

“Owe” her is a stretch. I only expressed my desire to do that, never promised I would. But this woman is in my blood, and when I began to drive home after the dinner, my car took me here instead, without my permission.

So now I’m sitting in my car, staring up at the dark window above the bakeshop. I don’t know why I’m here, but I do know it’s probably not a good idea.

I get a text from Weatherby, which says for me to call him as soon as I can. I move to place the call and then stop. I bargain with myself. I’ll reach out to Aria, see if she’s okay with me coming up for a little while, and then, because I know I need to call my boss, that will be my motivation to leave.

There. If I do that, I won’t stay too long.

What am I even doing here? I freak out a little, thinking about earlier, when pieces of the puzzle finally clicked, when I realized exactly who that Elijah-kid is.

A chill goes over me again. And the drive I feel to help him is strong. He doesn’t deserve the life he’s been forced to live. Nothing about his situation is okay.

I mostly kept my distance from Aria tonight and that won’t do. I regret it. I think I was still feeling thrown by my discoveries concerning Elijah, mourning alongside him—in my own way.

I have to see Aria again. Tonight.

I pace some more, and then make up my mind, using my key to open the door to the firm. If she doesn’t want to see me right now, it’s fine. It’s nearly ten o’clock.

I take the stairs two at a time, enter my office, inhale, exhale, and knock on the wall.

“Aria?”

There’s no sound through the wall and after waiting, I try again.

Still nothing, so I busy myself with answering a few work emails, all the while, my ear trained on next door.

Finally, a rustling sound comes from her apartment, followed by footfalls. I go back to the wall and knock again.

“Milady? How are those poor little toes?”

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