Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 122216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Damn. He’s right. I also think I’m in love with this man.
“Okay,” I agree. He presses his mouth against mine for one last kiss before he pulls himself from the bed. I let out a sigh as I watch him get dressed. His eyes remain on me the entire time. I still can’t believe that he’s wanted me all this time. We could have been doing this forever ago. I laugh to myself thinking about how I wasted all that time coming up with these elaborate plans so I could spend time with him. At least now we’re on the same page.
For a moment I thought we might be moving too fast, but really we’ve been dancing around each other for too long as it is. He bends down and grabs my clothes off the floor for me. I’m not surprised when Mac helps me get dressed.
I rest my head on his chest for a moment, forgetting about the bells that keep ringing and stopping. It’s nice to have someone here with me. I didn't realize how lonely I’ve been until now.
“Since you’re, like, my boyfriend, will you kick Cinnamon Stick’s ass for me?”
“I don’t think there’s much I wouldn't do if you asked me.”
I look up at him. The words I love you hang on the tip of my tongue. Before I can debate blurting them out, the bells start again. Mac kisses the top of my head, then walks toward my dresser.
“It’s coming from in here.”
I shrug.
He opens the top drawer and pulls out a sparkling phone, the edges lit up in green, red, and white mini-bulbs, and the screen bearing a photo of a Christmas tree.
“That’s definitely a Jingle Phone.”
He takes a deep breath before he answers it, then puts it on speaker.
“I see you still don’t have a Santa.” Cinnamon Stick is nothing short of petulant.
I roll my eyes and let myself fall back onto the bed.
“You calling nonstop isn't helping,” Mac growls into the phone.
“We’re running out of time.” Cinnamon snaps back. “The children.”
“She doesn't need your added stress. We’re working on it.”
Cinnamon Stick clicks his tongue as though he doesn’t believe we’re trying hard enough.
“Is that really what you two are doing? ‘Working on it’?” My face warms at Cinnamon Stick’s question.
Mac glares at the Jingle Phone. “Listen here, you little—”
I jump up and grab the phone from Mac.
“You can’t talk to elves like that,” I scold.
His lips twitch. “You wanted me to kick his ass two minutes ago.” Oh yeah. He’s right.
Mac takes the phone back from my hand.
“Are you two done? The workshop is already getting behind. I’ve got my hands full with managing in Santa’s absence. This is—”
“Lil bit and I are far from done.”
I melt into Mac’s chest. He wraps an arm around me. “We’re working on it. If you don’t stop calling my girl every five minutes, I’ll fly up to the North Pole and break all of your fingers. You won’t be calling anyone then.” Mac ends the call on that note before tossing the phone onto the bed.
“That was hot,” I breathe out.
There might be something wrong with me. Whenever he talks about ending people for me or hurting them because they’re bothering me, I get turned on. I lick my bottom lip. His gaze, growing heated, follows the movement.
I want to continue what we started, but the Jingle Phone is sparkling and blinking on the bed. It can’t be ignored.
“We need to find a Santa.” The faster we do that, the faster we can be back in bed together. I wonder if Mac and I will spend Christmas together. Crap. I’ll need to get a gift for him. I should make us a couples Christmas ornament. I wonder if he plans on staying the night at my place on Christmas Eve, or will I stay here?
“Focus, lil bit.” He gives my butt a small smack to bring me back to the now.
“Right! We need to find a Santa.” I start wracking my mind on how to find a new one. I’m about to give up when the best idea hits me.
“I got it!” I hop up from the sofa and make a dash for my bag. I pull out my phone that only got a small crack in the corner when I threw it out the window earlier. It doesn't go unnoticed by me that I have 20 missed calls from Cinnamon Stick from earlier. So it’s working. I was sure it was going to be ruined, but thankfully it landed on a patch of snow-covered grass. I quickly start searching the internet.
“I could sign up for a dating app! It’s perfect. I can put all the attributes that I’m looking for, and then once it matches me to some guys, I’ll have them come over. Then I can screen them. Taking the time constraints into consideration, I could pick the one that has the best qualifications.” If all else fails, I could randomly shove the hat on someone.