She’ll be back tomorrow, but perhaps I’ll look into Eve Tinsel a little more. There’s nothing wrong with knowing more about the people I hire. Nothing at all.
Three
EVE
“Bring it over another two feet, please.” I watch as Luke and Ben move the massive tree over, and I’m still not sure that looks right. I try to picture the shelves lined with presents to get the full effect, but it’s off.
“Just say it, Eve.” Ben gives me a knowing look.
“Okay, back over a foot.” They quickly do as I ask, and I hear Luke chuckle. “Sorry.” They step back and look at the tree with me, but I think it’s perfect. “That should do it.” I look down at my clipboard and check one more thing off. “Are you headed to the Sleighs’ now?” All the heavy lifting has been done here, so now it’s time to decorate and get down to the details.
“Yep. We’re off to the Barbie Christmas house,” Ben teases.
“Whatever.” Luke shakes his head. “Don’t show your girl a picture of it. Now Kayla wants me to take our lights down and put up pink ones. Said she didn't know that was an option.”
“It’s Christmas; everything is an option,” I remind them.
I too enjoy the pink lights. It’s different, and the whole point of Christmas is to make someone’s heart light up. The pink lights did that for Mr. Sleigh’s daughter and that was the most important thing.
“Right,” Ben says as they both head out.
“I’ll be there in a little bit,” I call after them before getting back to work. I do a final check, making sure everything is perfect, and all the items are complete.
“I want pictures, Chel,” I tell my assistant. I’m not used to being spread so thin, but at this point it is what it is, and I can only do my best.
“I’ve got it,” she tries to reassure me.
“Evie, is that you?” I turn around to see Rich coming down the stairs in his bathrobe.
It’s a little past ten in the morning, and I really wish I hadn't agreed to the date. When I look at Rich, there is no spark or anything. In fact, when he calls me Evie it works my nerves, something that is usually hard to do.
“Morning, Rich.” I give him a bright smile as I look at what he’s wearing. I didn't know someone could make a robe look so…well, rich, but Hugh Hefner springs to mind.
“How are things going?”
“We’re right on track.”
He comes down the stairs and looks at the tree in the sitting room. “What goes here?” He points to the shelves I've emptied out.
“The presents,” I remind him.
“Presents?” He gives me a confused look.
“Yes, everyone is supposed to bring a gift for a child. They will be donated to the children's hospital.” It was something I came up with a few years ago. Most think it’s a great idea because they don’t like coming to parties empty-handed.
“Oh.” Rich doesn't look pleased by my response, so he must have forgotten. Does he really not want people to bring him Christmas gifts?
“It’s such a great thing you’re doing. Think of all the kids that will have a wonderful Christmas all because of you.” I give him a bright smile, laying it on thick.
“Right.” He smirks. “And you’ll be here?” He steps in closer to me as his eyes travel up and down my body.
“Yep.” I glance at my clipboard.
“Eve,” Chel calls.
“If you need anything, Rich, let us know,” I say before I step away from him and over to Chel.
“What’s up?” I ask her.
“Nothing.” She winks at me. “You’re welcome.”
I laugh, thinking maybe she does have this handled. Unable to help myself, I take one last look around before I head out, and if I’m truthful, I think I might be stalling.
I feel terrible because last night I couldn't get my mind off Mr. Sleigh. I kept thinking about the adorably sexy way his face changed when he realized the mistake was his own. The man is married with a daughter, and I shouldn’t have those thoughts. Or a sex dream.
I’ve never in my life had a sex dream, and I can’t figure out what is wrong with me. I’m crushing on a man that’s not even available and running from the one that is. I remind myself as I make the drive over to Dasher Sleigh’s residence that he’s kind of a jerk.
My phone rings, and without looking to see who it is, I click the Bluetooth in the car and answer.
“Good morning, this is Eve.”
“Morning? It’s almost afternoon,” is growled in response, and I know immediately who is on the other end. When I look at the time, I see it’s only ten-thirty.
“Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Sleigh?” I ask.
“You’re not here, and the party is days away.”