All I Want For Christmas Is You - Vi Keeland Page 0,42
given everything.” I listen to her let out a breath. “They don’t know they’re wrong. Yes, my parents spoil me, but they’ve also in their way taught me the value of a dollar. I’ve had to work to get where I am. People don’t know my dad only gave me enough to pay for school, but I had to pay for my books, food, and apartment by working two jobs while I was in college. When I graduated, I moved home and lived with my parents so I could save up money for a house, and only when I had enough for a down payment did I move out on my own. Even my car is something I’ve paid for on my own, without the help of anyone.”
“You work for your dad,” I tell her, something she already knows.
“Yeah, and I make what anyone else in my position would make and not a dollar more. I’m sure one day when my dad is ready to retire, he will leave the bank to me and my brothers, but that won’t happen for a long, long time. And honestly, I don’t want the stress of owning a business. I’d rather just keep doing what I’m doing. I might not have millions or even hundreds of thousands of dollars to my name, but I can afford my mortgage, my car payment, and bills along with a yearly two-week-long trip to the beach.”
Thinking of her on the beach in a bikini is enough to have me shifting in my seat. “What’s your favorite beach to go to?”
“What?” she asks, moving her hand out from underneath mine and placing her fingers in front of the vents blowing warm air.
Turning up the heat, I ask, “What is your favorite beach to visit for two weeks?”
“I don’t have a favorite. I just want sun and sand while the snow is still falling here.”
“When’s your next trip?”
“I leave three days after New Year’s.” I hear the smile in her voice. “I’m going to Jamaica, where I’ve rented a villa on the water and plan to do nothing all day but drink virgin daiquiris and soak up the sun.”
“You’re not taking anyone with you?” I question. I know I’ve never seen her with a man, but that doesn’t mean much.
“No, all my friends are settled down with husbands and kids, so I’m going alone.”
“Is that safe?” I ask, not liking the idea of her being in a foreign country on her own.
“I travel alone all the time.” She waves me off like my question is ridiculous, then sits up a little taller. “There are three houses in this neighborhood we will be hitting tonight, so you can park anywhere around here.”
“Was that a Home Alone reference?” I ask, and the sound of her laughter fills the cab.
“I don’t think so, but it does make it sound like we’re robbing people instead of spreading Christmas joy.” She opens her door and hops out once I park. Again, we go through the whole routine, decorating each tree and putting them in place along with gifts and bags of food. When we get back in my truck, we head to the next house, and then the next, working together in sync until we finish with the last house on the list.
“I know you didn’t really invite me to help you tonight,” I say, stopping at a red light, “but I gotta tell you that this has been one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time.”
“It was pretty great, right?” She grins then tips her head to the side. “I know you probably want to get home to sleep, but if you’re hungry, I’m planning on making waffles when I get home. You’re welcome to join me for breakfast.”
“You know how to cook?”
“No, I was going to ask my housekeeper if she could whip us up a batch,” she says sarcastically. “You know I’m going to start getting offended by all your assumptions pretty soon.”
“Sorry, baby, but most women who look and dress like you do not know there way around a kitchen.”
“That’s a tad bit sexist, Tyler, and please do not put me in the same bag as all the bar bunnies who have warmed your bed over the years.”
“What do you know about the women who warm my bed?” I glance over at her, hoping like hell she doesn’t believe half the shit people talk about. Not that I would blame her if she did, since I never