All I Want For Christmas Is You - Vi Keeland Page 0,47

a twenty-four-hour shift at the hospital.

The last thing I really should be doing was delivering a shit ton of packages during peak Christmas shopping season on three hours of sleep.

But… I wanted to see her.

“Because I followed him. His tracker showed him stopped at a certain house for over twenty minutes last time he delivered for me,” Per admitted. “So I got curious and made sure to accidentally keep a package that was meant for her from him and delivered it the next day. Cute little redhead that has eyes that are the color of grass.”

All eyes turned to me.

“She has a dog,” I hedged. “He’s really cute.”

“Sure, the dog is cute.” Johan rolled his eyes. “Go do your shift, weirdo. And try not to stay there too long. Otherwise, I’ll show up and see what’s keeping you.”

The thing was, he totally would.

“Whatever,” I grumbled, a nervous anticipation starting to course through me at the idea of seeing my favorite delivery location chick again.

Which made me roll my eyes as soon as I got into the obnoxious orange delivery truck.

I was a thirty-five-year-old man. I was an emergency room doctor. I was six-foot-three, could deadlift five hundred pounds, and I could run circles around every single person at my CrossFit gym.

The only thing was, a little woman that I couldn’t even work up the courage to ask her name, was making me so nervous and giddy that I could barely contain my excitement.

I really needed to get a life.

Or work up the courage to ask her out on a date.

I was hoping one day I could talk myself into the latter.

I got hos in a lot of different area codes.

-Santa T-shirt

Nola

“Is he there yet?” my sister, Creole, asked.

“Not yet,” I admitted, my thick Cajun accent in full force. “He’s usually here by now.”

“Maybe he saved you for last,” Creole suggested.

I snorted. “He did not save me for last. I can’t keep ordering things like this, either. It’s getting really out of hand.”

My credit card was already bursting at the seams.

The only good thing was that I knew that Creole’s kids would enjoy all the presents that I’d bought for them this year.

“So, did you get a pic of him yet?” she asked. “I want a better one than that blurry one you took through the blinds last time.”

I snorted. “You know that’s all you’re going to get. I swear to God, it’s like the man knows when I’m taking a photo. He always catches me, and I have to act like I’m taking a picture of my dog instead.”

“How is King Cake doing, anyway?” she asked. “I miss him.”

My family had a theme.

My mother, father, sister, and I were from New Orleans, Louisiana.

When we were eighteen, my sister and I moved away to start school in Texas.

Then, Creole decided that she needed to see more of the world, and then decided to up and join the Navy, leaving our dog, King Cake, in my loving care.

She hadn’t seen him in over a year since she was stationed overseas, and I missed her like crazy.

“King Cake is walking around like a fat little spring roll,” I admitted. “I seriously need to help him lose weight, but he’s so old now that I feel bad making him walk.”

King Cake was a fourteen-year-old French Bulldog that needed to lose weight about eight years ago.

Sadly, with how much the two of us worked, King Cake was left to his own devices a lot, and by the time that I got home at night sometimes, the last thing I wanted to do was take him for a walk.

And now that I had the time, and I wasn’t on call so much—thank God that residency was over—he was just too old to be doing half the things that he needed to.

The most excitement he got now was when the delivery man came by and got him all riled up.

Speaking of delivery drivers…

“Oh, my God. He’s here,” I gasped.

That’s when the big orange door slid open, and none other than a blonde Nordic god stepped out.

I moaned and pulled up my phone, switching to FaceTime.

“This is the best I have,” I whispered when her face appeared.

I switched the camera around and set the phone on the ledge.

“Don’t yell or you’ll give yourself away,” I ordered.

“Like I can control when I yell at your nieces and nephews,” she grumbled. “They’re being awful today, by the way. Getting all riled up about picking out a Christmas tree. Now, go