I look sideways at her.
“Just a thought,” she says.
“I don’t think I’m going to the Christmas party tonight,” I say. “I’m not up for it.”
“No, you’re not getting out of this one. You know Hank will never let that happen. He’ll hunt you down and shove his Christmas cheer so far down your throat that you’ll asphyxiate on it,” she says.
This is true. My boss never lets anyone get away with not attending his annual Christmas celebrations. The man is insane, high on yuletide and merriment. Once he even showed up at my apartment when I was recovering from a stomach virus and dragged me to the party. Nearly everyone who attended ended up calling in sick the next day because they were puking their guts out.
“You’re right,” I say. “A distraction will help. Even if it’s in the form of Christmas carols sung off-key and stale sugar cookies.”
“Someone spikes the eggnog every year, so you know it’ll be a good time,” Stephanie says.
“Okay, fine. I’ll go.”
8
I meet Stephanie in front of the hotel where the Christmas party is being held. It’s one of those five star places where one night in their cheapest room costs more than my monthly rent. There’s a beautiful display in the lobby with a massive tree decorated with powder blue and white ornaments, twinkling lights, and ribbon cascading down from the top. There is tinsel and garland strewn on every surface, reindeer made of glass, and candy canes made from crystal. The whole thing is a winter wonderland and captures those whimsical feelings the holidays gave me as a child.
“Wow, this is amazing,” I say.
“Let’s take a picture in front of it,” Stephanie suggests. “We look amazing too.”
“No pictures,” I say. Smiling feels like a chore right now.
“Come on. It’ll make you feel better. You are the ultimate vixen in that dress. You shouldn’t keep all that to yourself,” she says, making hand motions toward my body.
I decided to go with a silver mini dress with a low back and black stilettos, even though it’s a big risk with the slippery sidewalks. So far so good.
Heath ending up with that sexy Latina woman from the bar last night has depleted my self-esteem. My last chance at redemption is this dress and these heels. My boobs and legs are my best assets and this dress displays them perfectly without being slutty. At least I know the I.T. nerds at the office party will appreciate them.
“All right, one picture,” I say.
Stephanie finds a bellhop to take our picture in front of the tree. “Make sure to get her legs in the picture,” she says to him.
He nods, gaze sliding up my body, smiling his approval. “Of course.”
“Now smile,” Stephanie says to me. “Fake it till you make it.”
I do my best. When Stephanie gets her camera back from the bellhop and sees the picture of us, she squeals. “We look hot! This is going to be a great party this year. I can feel it.”
I hope so. All the different branches of the company will here, so it won’t be the same stiffs I see day in and day out, but still, it’s a computer logistics company whose techs spend 90% of their lives in their office running diagnostics and playing World of Warcraft. How fun can it be?
“What are you doing with your phone?” I ask, as she types away.
“Tagging you and sending it too all our social media.”
Fantastic. Another photo for the No-O file.
“Let’s get in there and get a drink before I change my mind,” I say.
The party isn’t half bad, actually. Hank liked his gift and the food is good. Last year it was an unfortunate potluck where everyone brought dishes. There were a whole lot of deviled eggs to the point where the entire room smelled like an outhouse. This year it’s catered, and there’s champagne. And, as always, the eggnog is spiked.
I’m getting plenty of attention in this dress. Several men stand around me, telling me that secretaries are the backbone of the IT business, and without us, the system would fail. All the while their eyes never leave my breasts and legs. I feel like a roasted chicken on display at the grocery store in front of a hungry mob. Maybe this dress wasn’t such a good idea after all. I can’t have an actual conversation with anyone.
While I’m showered with attention, Heath remains in the back of my thoughts no matter how hard I try to push him out. This party was a bad idea. All these men vying for my attention is just making the situation worse because the only man whose attention I want doesn’t want me in return.
I look around the room for Stephanie to tell her goodbye before I leave.
Instead, I find Heath.
He’s next to the door, watching me, a head taller than everyone else in the room. He looks incredibly sexy as usual with his mussed up hair, bomber jack, and that serious gaze. At first I’m confused, like maybe somehow that’s not really Heath, just an image my mind conjured out of the blue from thinking about him so much. Why would he be at the company IT party too?
“Excuse me,” I say to my audience, my legs already moving toward Heath before my words are done leaving my mouth.
“What are you doing here?” I demand when I’m in front of him.
He swallows and runs his hands through his hair as if he were nervous. “I need to talk to you.”
“How did you even know where to find me?”
“The same way I found you last time.” He says the words, but immediately looks as though he wishes he could take them back. Head down, he scrubs his hands over his face.
“What last time?” I say. “You mean on the subway?”
He cusses under his breath.
I shake my head, confused, mad, and intrigued all at once. “That wasn’t a coincidence, was it?” I say.
“Yes …” he says, hesitant, then, “and no.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Please explain. I’d love to hear how that could possibly have a yes and no answer. Also, you’re kind of freaking me out right now.”
“Can we please talk somewhere else?” he asks. “I can’t think straight with all this Christmas music an
d your hoard of admirers staring me down.”
I glance behind me and see the men I’d been talking to dog-eyeing Heath. That’s exactly how I’d felt with all those women looking at me at the bar last night. Serves him right.
“Fine. Let’s go out into the lobby,” I say.
Once we’re alone, he reaches out and pulls me into a hug. I stiffen in his arms. When I don’t hug him back, he steps away.
“You look incredible,” he says.
My hands shake. I wish I had pockets to hide them in.
“Thanks.”
He looks incredible too, but I’m not about to return the compliment.
He stands there watching me. I start to fidget. “If you’re not going to explain yourself, I’m going back to the party,” I say.
The muscle in his jaw flexes. There’s tension in the set of his mouth. “I was in Brettsville the day we met on the subway. I was checking in at the restaurant I own, going over the new menu with the chef. Then I saw you were tagged in all those ‘No-O’ posts at the subway station. I saw an opportunity and I took it. I thought I could follow you and bump into you on the street, make it look like an accident. But then you needed my help.”
I raise an eyebrow. “So you were stalking me.”
Words stumble clumsily out of his open mouth. Every time I’ve been with him he’s been so self-assured. Not now. “What? No. Okay, kind of, but I’m not normally like this. I don’t need to stalk anyone to get a date. It’s just, I wanted to meet you and I knew you wouldn’t agree to go on a date with me because of the whole sex with strangers thing. I figured if we met in person, I wouldn’t be a stranger anymore and I could win you over.”