Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 75107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“I’m gonna put on ‘I’ll Be Home for Christmas’,” she told me. “Have you seen it?”
“No.”
“It’s great. Funny. And JTT,” she said, fanning herself. I had no idea what or who JTT was, but even Sammy agreed he was ‘dreamy.’ “You’re going to love it.”
“Babe, I can’t stay and watch it.”
“Why not?” Stephanie asked, her lower lip pouting even more than before.
“I promised Sam—”
“He can stay and watch it,” Sammy said, making Stephanie smile as she tried to read and type out the letters for the title. I glanced over at Sammy who mouthed and mimed to me: She’ll be asleep in five minutes.
The silent part didn’t need to be said. She would be back to check to make sure I went on my way once Stephanie was asleep.
“I need to get my eyes checked,” Stephanie grumbled, squinting at the TV.
I took the remote, pressed the mic button, and spoke the title into it instead.
“You’re so smart!”
“Yeah, fucking genius right here,” I agreed as she clicked the movie and the opening scene started.
Sammy was off by her estimate. But only by five minutes.
Ten minutes into the movie, Stephanie’s head fell hard onto my shoulder, out cold.
I let myself enjoy that sensation for a moment, the softness of her, the sweet scent of her, her hand resting on my leg.
Before I could let myself get too used to it, though, I slid a hand behind her neck, holding her up as I slid out from under her. Then I lowered her down flat on the cushions, glad I didn’t have to worry about her rolling onto her back on the small couch.
I was still tucking the throw blanket covered in candy canes around her sleeping body when I noticed Sammy standing in the doorway, a thoughtful look on her face.
“How’s Andy?” I asked, brushing Steph’s hair behind her ear before forcing myself to move away.
“Empty. Sleeping. She’s going to have a hell of a hangover. Thanks for helping out,” she said as I made my way to the door. “These two can be a handful sometimes.”
“Eh, you love it.”
“I do,” she agreed. “You’re surprisingly gentle with her for such a rough-looking guy.” Sammy reached around to lock the door before pulling it closed.
I didn’t know what to say to that. No one had ever accused me of being gentle before.
“I would apologize for scheming with Andy to bring you to the party, but I’m not sorry,” she admitted with a smile that crinkled her eyes. “Get home safe, Venezio.”
“Thanks,” I said, nodding. “I gotta go fucking rent that movie now,” I admitted.
Because, yeah, Steph had been right; I did like it.
And suddenly, there was something about Christmas joy that didn’t quite feel out of reach.
Whatever the fuck that meant.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Stephanie
“Oh, mama,” Andy said, moving into my bedroom doorway in her own gown for the evening. It was a black floor-length dress with a high neckline but an open back.
“It’s not too much?” I asked, turning back and forth in the mirror.
I’d chosen a wine-red floor-length gown with a slit up the thigh that was just shy of scandalous. I would need to be careful to keep my strides short so it didn’t reveal all my secrets. I felt like the more modest neckline and the long sleeves kept the outfit from making me look like an escort, but still allowed me to be sexy.
Not that I should have had my mind on what was sexy or not.
This was a charity fundraising event to me, not a chance to try to seduce Venezio.
I mean, any chances of trying to convince that man to take me to bed fell away when he’d likely witnessed me making an absolute fool of myself by singing karaoke and then trying to strip naked when I got home.
I was not lucky enough to get the post-drinking amnesia like Andy did, leaving her blissfully unaware of the embarrassment. I remembered every cringy moment. Up until I fell asleep on his shoulder.
Sammy filled in the rest for me.
She walked in to find Venezio gently putting me down on the cushions and tucking a blanket around me.
Then he left.
I saw him again, of course, at the warehouse. But it had been only in passing, since he usually volunteered later in the day to work in the shipments. By then, I was often already out and hitting the pavement.
It was totally just different schedules. But my overactive imagination couldn’t help but worry that he was avoiding me, that I’d given him the ick, that he no longer had any interest in me.
A part of me was actually terrified that he was going to stand me up after I put so much work into my hair, makeup, and outfit.
Then where would I be? Alone at home in an evening gown? Even more depressed than I’d been for most of the season?