Mission of Christmas (2 page)

And there are things—when you’ve known someone forever—that you just sort of accept. Like I know that Andrew Hawkins is a handsome charmer, and he’ll always be that guy all the girls swoon over.

I don’t hold it against him.

Most of the time.

“It’s a thing,” I finally said.

“So you really are Mrs. Grinch…” And he did a rather impressive impersonation of the Grinch song, from the old Dr. Seuss cartoon.

I smirked and rolled my eyes. “Yeah, and I’m planning on watching something with extensive explosions in it when I get home.”

“Avengers?”

“Of course.”

“At least you have your priorities.”

“Damn straight.”

Back at my place, after doing the initial cold shivers upon entering and hanging up our coats, I grabbed
Avengers
and threw it in the DVD player.

Hawkins got himself a beer and me a glass of wine while I cued up the movie. I was just getting comfortable when he handed me the drink.

“So what were you going to do on Christmas day?” he asked.

“No discussion during the movie,” I replied. Didn’t matter that I could almost quote the entire script. Heck, I could probably transcribe it.

Had more to do with him broaching Christmas again.

He kicked off his shoes and plopped them on the coffee table.

My house wasn’t exactly huge, and good seating for television watching was the couch. That was the only place, really, to properly see the TV without getting a kink in the neck.

Which meant that Hawkins was sitting right next to me.

Normally, this wasn’t any big deal. We sat together all the time. Yet I couldn’t help this weird niggle in the back of my mind that made me horridly aware of him.

I could smell his cologne.

Feel his warmth, without him actually touching me.

I tried shifting, sliding away just a bit, but there really wasn’t room. Well, not unless I wanted to sit on the broken spring and be goosed for the whole movie.

So I was stuck sitting next to him.

Whether he noticed anything in particular, I wasn’t sure. He just kept his mouth shut as we watched the movie.

Not caring he was this close.

This was nothing.

Nothing at all
.

Yeah. I had to keep telling myself that.

At the point where Iron Man is trying to fix the S.H.I.E.L.D.’s broken engine, Hawkins shifted.

Stretched his arm.

Put it behind me on the couch. Just touching my shoulder.

That was it. A bit more than I could take.

“Dude?”

“Shh,” Hawkings replied.

I grabbed his arm and shoved it off.

He raised an eyebrow at me but didn’t say anything.

Good.

Gah, I needed another glass of wine.

Maybe the whole bottle.

When was he leaving again?

Chapter Two

Saturday Morning

“I friggin’ hate you, Andrew Hawkins,” I muttered as he pulled me through the mall four days before Christmas. Our city, while larger than most, only held two big malls: Town East and Town West.

That rat fink dragged me out to Town East, the bigger of the two, on the last Saturday before Christmas. I was warm and cozy in my flannel pajamas, at home with my favorite fuzzy socks and my collection of completely un-holiday inspired movies. I’d been watching
I, Robot
and vegging out on the couch when he showed up.

I thought he wanted to go to Wal-Mart or something. Of course, Wal-Mart on a Saturday was a different kind of hell altogether. I was prepared for that. Just before he left last night, he said he would pick me up, because he had to run some errands today.

He didn’t bother to tell me he wanted to do Christmas shopping.

And of course, I didn’t realize that’s what he meant.

“Get over it, Erica. You may not give a shit about Christmas, but I have shopping to do. I bought you coffee.” He nodded to my still warm Starbucks cup.

“Which is the only way you got me out of the house. But why did you have to drag me here?” We weaved in and out of shoppers carrying bags from the stores—Penney’s, Sears, Victoria’s Secret, Bath and Body Works, and Famous Footwear. Christmas music blared through the mall’s sound system, and I held back the need to vomit.

Starbucks coffee would only keep me happy for so long. It was quickly wearing off. He owed me at least one bottle of wine.

“I needed a woman’s opinion on this stuff.”

“Why didn’t you get your sister to go with you?”

He shot me a look. The “don’t be a shithead” look. “I’m shopping for my sister. And my mom. And my aunt. And Big Grandma.”

“Really, gift cards work well. Just go to the bank and get them the damn Visa cards and be done with it.” I darted around a woman with a stroller loaded down with shopping bags. I think there was a baby in there somewhere. I swear I saw a foot.

He took my hand and slid into a shop selling bath stuff—the smell hit me as soon as we walked in, and I couldn’t help feeling like I’d walked into a bathhouse. At least the store wasn’t totally over-packed like the common area. I let out a relieved sigh I wasn’t crammed shoulder to shoulder with other shoppers anymore.

Inhaling a breath, Andrew grimaced. “I have no idea what to get.”

“So who are we here for?”

“Andrea.” His sister was a froo-froo gal if ever there was one. She got manicures, pedicures, the hair, the eyebrows—you name it, she got it pampered, plucked, painted, and foiled.

The sooner we got what he needed, the sooner we could get out of here and I could go back to watching my non-holiday movie marathon.

“So what scent does she like?”

“Vanilla.”

I glanced at him, a little freaked out at his immediate answer. “And why do you know that? I mean, there wasn’t even a pause in your response time.”

“You’ve met my sister, right? She always smells like vanilla. I keep expecting her to pull a cookie out of her pocket.”

I snorted. Now that I thought about it, he was right—I had thought once she used vanilla extract for perfume.

It didn’t take us long to find vanilla. What bath store wouldn’t have a bazillion different kinds of vanilla scented lotions? We started looking through them, and I found one on the front shelf. It was a Spiced Vanilla—a special holiday scent.

“What about this one?” I asked him, rubbing some of the lotion on my hand and sticking it in his face.

I could feel his exhaled breath across my fingers as he took in the aroma. When he looked me in the eyes, my stomach dropped right out onto the floor. His eyes were dark—really dark, like totally heady and strong and masculine, and all my girly parts immediately squealed.

I yanked my hand back. “It’s not a piece of candy.”

A slip of a smile ran over his face. “Sorry. Yeah, I think that will work.”

We picked up a couple bottles of the lotion, a bottle of the hand soap, and a bottle of the little essential oil stuff, all the same scent. When we took it to the front, the lady—who made the usual doe-eyes at Andrew—offered to wrap it for him in a special gift basket.

He didn’t seem to notice her attention.

I shook my head as we started to walk out. “You should have asked for her number.”

“Why?”

“She was all about you.”

“I wasn’t interested in her.”

I turned and looked at the gal as we headed back into the swarm of customers. “Why not? She’s cute. All perky and firm in the right places.”

“I’ve had firm and perky. I’m more interested in soft and sullen now.”

I snorted. If I didn’t know better, I might have thought he was talking about me.

I snuck a glance at him. He wasn’t looking at me.

Good.

No need to screw up a good thing.

We climbed back into his car, and he started pulling out of the parking lot.

“Thank God,” I muttered. “I didn’t think I could take much more Christmas shopping.”

“I’m not done,” he said, turning north out of the parking lot. Not south; that would take me back to my place.

“What now?” I muttered, sipping on my now-cold coffee.

“Gotta stop at Barnes and Noble.”

I let out a sigh. At least that place I could somewhat handle. I was a reader, and there was this new series I wanted to pick up.

And they had coffee.

“What did you need at Barnes?” I asked, watching the traffic. The sideways snow hadn’t stuck to the road, thank goodness. Instead everything was just wet this morning.

Which was good. No frozen roads.
 

Hawkins slammed on the brakes because an idiot cut him off to pull into a shopping center on the way.

“Dickhead!” I screamed.

“Ahh, the Christmas spirit is in full force today,” he said, then smirked.

“Glad you’re driving. I might have hit him.”

“You need a new car. I don’t.”

“True,” I said, smiling.

He let out a sigh, driving a little farther. “I gotta get my mother a Nook case. Guess Dad bought her one for Christmas, and I told him I’d buy the case for it.”

“That’s mighty nice of you.”

“And I think I’m going to get her a gift card too.”

“We can get that at the grocery store,” I said.

He merely smiled. “You like the bookstore.”

“Yes, I’ve been meaning to go there anyway.”

After all, I didn’t do Christmas. So no one bought me presents. I bought my own. But I didn’t fiddle with wrapping them. I could go home tonight, curl up with a new book, and veg out.

No Hawkins allowed.

Chapter Three

Saturday
 

Andy led Erica into the bookstore, and she still wore her totally Scrooge-ish scowl. While he knew she loved getting books, she loathed Christmas shopping. Probably why she walked at a tortoise pace behind him.

Maybe he ought to get her a Nook as well.
 

But then she’d have yet another reason to stay home on her couch.
 

They hadn’t been in the store more than a minute when Erica disappeared into the science fiction and fantasy section.

He remained rooted by a John Grisham display, watching her walk away.

Her hips swayed with every businesslike step, and as she turned the corner to the aisle she wanted, he got a great shot of her body’s curves. Her dark hair dangled out of the stocking cap she wore, swaying with her steps. Even with her big coat on, he could see the roundness of her breasts.

His groin tightened at the sight. He had to remind himself this was Erica, not just anyone. Unfortunately, that happened a lot when he spent time with her as of late. Not exactly what he wanted in their relationship, but like an addict, he just couldn’t stay away from her.

They were always together as kids, and as teenagers they’d been pretty good friends even though they’d been in different cliques at school. While married, they hadn’t hung out much because of their significant others.

Then Erica got the job at Inventive Proposals. And the last few years were almost like high school again. They spent almost every weekend together if one of them didn’t have a date. Though the more time passed, Andy didn’t want to go out with anyone else.

He wanted to be with her.

Hell, the whole office thought they were banging.

Not that he’d complain…

He shook off his thoughts. He wasn’t here to think about Erica. He was on a mission of Christmas. He browsed the Nook cases, checking his text from his dad about the type to get, and found a red one. His mother loved all things red.

On his way to the checkout, he picked up a fancy metal bookmark with the initial K on it for his Secret Santa gift tonight.

“What’s with the bookmark?” Erica snuck up behind him while he stared at the rack of the latest bestsellers behind the counter. Just the sound of her voice made him smile. He turned around to see three books in her arms.

“Secret Santa gift. I have Katherine Davis.”

She arched an eyebrow, framing her dark brown eyes. “She’s the elderly lady running the mail room, right?”

“Yep.”

“She an avid reader?”

He shrugged. “Not sure. But it’s the kind of thing I think she would like.” The line started to move forward. “Who’s your Secret Santa?”

She turned away from him. “I opted out.”

He grimaced. “Why would you do that? You won’t get a gift tonight at the party.”

“I’m not going to the party.” When she met his gaze this time, there was determination in her face. She had no desire to participate.