Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 18896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 94(@200wpm)___ 76(@250wpm)___ 63(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 18896 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 94(@200wpm)___ 76(@250wpm)___ 63(@300wpm)
He thought he heard her add, “But you,” and decided he had to be imagining things. Taking her hand, he led her out of the office, wondering what the rest of the night had in store.
Once in the car, Max had a hard time concentrating on driving with Brandy beside him. She shifted in her seat and he felt the heat of her stare.
She held her hands out in front of the heater, but he doubted she needed the warmth. He pulled his truck past the bar, lit by traditional colored Christmas lights that gave the place a festive look. Max turned on to a private street and pulled the car into a gravel parking lot in the rear. The Back Door, an old-fashioned pub and restaurant, had a back main entrance. Hence the name.
During the ride downtown, he’d asked questions, curious about his elf, discovering she was at a turning point in her life. Feeling tired, she had the new year pegged as a fresh start. She hadn’t elaborated and he’d given her the freedom to reveal as much or as little as she desired.
Though he didn’t want to spook her by getting too serious too fast, Max knew he had every intention of being part of her new beginning. He shifted to park.
“Gorgeous decorations.”
Max took in the icicle lights dripping from the shingles and overhang along with the colored lights circling the surrounding shrubbery, seeing the setting he viewed daily from her new, awed perspective. “They are incredible.” And so was she.
“Well, this will be fun to explain.” She gestured to her outfit and laughed, a lilting but embarrassed sound that reminded him of her jingling bells. Those she’d removed somewhere during their ride down the West Side Highway and they lay in the center console.
“We’ll just say you’re Santa’s helper.” He turned in his seat and reached for her hand.
She tipped her head to one side, a wry smile curving her lips. “And you think they’ll buy that?”
He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter to me what they think. But it does matter to me what you believe.” He’d only known her a few hours but the connection he felt with her was real.
Her lashes fluttered upward as she met his gaze. Deep and compelling, her eyes settled on him. Did she know? Understand? Feel the same overwhelming attraction and need as he felt pulsing through his body at this very moment? Max wondered.
He’d never fallen hard and fast for a woman he barely knew, but he had now. Feeling vulnerable wasn’t something he was used to and he suddenly needed proof she felt the same. “Tell me something. Since you brought it up, what was behind the elf outfit?” He’d heard his brother’s version. He wanted to hear hers.
She glanced away. “I was just spreading some holiday cheer.”
“Maybe that’s part of the reason, but I doubt it covers everything. And before we go into that crowded bar, I want to know more about you.” Something that would show him she trusted him. Something to prove to him that this… thing… between them wasn’t all one-sided.
She bit down on her lower lip. “What did Stephan tell you about me? And don’t tell me you didn’t ask.”
He laughed, admiring both her intuition and nerve. “That you organized the children’s visit to Santa and the gifts. That’s all.”
She inclined her head. “And you want to know why.”
He shook his head. “I want to know you.”
* * *
Looking into Max’s eyes, Brandy believed him. She’d never had a man take the time to get to know her in any way. She supposed that lent toward strengthening her belief in keeping people at a distance. No one deserved for her to lower her walls. To prove her longstanding beliefs wrong. But with Max, she felt safe, though she wasn’t certain why. But with each passing moment, he took another step towards showing her.
Though nothing had been said aloud, somewhere between kissing him and, well… kissing him, a sense of caring had developed, too. They didn’t know nearly enough about one another but he was giving her the opportunity to change that.
She’d never admitted her past to a man before, never felt close enough—yet she felt that closeness now. The vulnerability she normally associated with opening up to a man was nowhere to be found. Considering she wasn’t planning anything more than the here and now, the notion rattled her. Badly.
His hand brushed her cheek and remained there. “You can trust me, sweetheart.”
As she turned her head so his palm cupped her face, a renewed sense of rightness swept through her. “I spent my childhood in foster care,” she admitted. “My father was a musician,” she said, using finger-quotes around the word. “I was an accident. Eventually, when I was six, he took off to make it in the industry and my mother followed him. Never picked me up from school and that was that.”