How My Brother's Best Friend Stole Christmas - Molly O'Keefe Page 0,9

had been the right thing to do. Maybe a little…mean? Like cauterizing a wound. She had to move past this infatuation she had with me. And all I’d done was help her along.

By pretending her beauty was embarrassing.

By pretending she didn’t take my fucking breath away.

My stomach was sick. I was going to remember that look on her face for the rest of my life.

Fuck.

At one of the tables full of staff, a man, a boy, really, watched her as she left, tried even to stop her, maybe ask her if she was okay. But she shrugged him off and high tailed it to an elevator.

And then after a few minutes, that same guy put down his beer and took the same path she did. He followed her.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Yeah, he could be going to the bathroom or some shit, but he wasn’t. I knew it in my gut. Now, was he going to try and comfort her? Or take advantage of a woman in distress? To hurt her? I mean, it seemed unlikely, but the thought, once in my head, was impossible to get rid of.

Because my first rule was still the same. Protect Sophie.

I set down my beer and went after them.

Sophie

I got back to the warehouse before the tears came, burning their way out of my eyes, and I tried to take off my shoes, but I couldn’t bend down in the dress, and I tried to take off the dress but I couldn’t reach the zipper, so I punched my fists down onto my old metal desk and howled. Just howled.

I was fucking trapped in this awful idea of mine. And I couldn’t get out.

“Sophie?”

Startled, I turned, only to find Joe Arben standing there in his father’s suit.

Oh God.

I closed my eyes and turned back around. Things Can Always Get Worse: The Sophie Kane Story.

“Are you okay?” he asked. I heard him coming down the three stairs from the doorway down to the floor of the warehouse. “I saw you leave and you seemed upset.”

“I’m fine,” I said, not sounding it.

He was on the cement floor, walking toward me and when his hand touched my elbow I flinched and then covered my face with my hand.

“Sweetheart? What happened?” he whispered. It was nice to be called sweetheart, even though I knew he didn’t mean it. He couldn’t. I wasn’t anyone’s sweetheart. I was…plain old Sophie Kane and a fool for trying to be anything else.

“Nothing,” I said, pleased that my voice didn’t sound drenched in tears. “I’m just…not having a great night.”

“What can I do?” he asked. His breath touched my arm and I shivered with a keen pleasure pain. Had I honestly thought Fucking Sam Porter was going to take one look at me and pull me into his arms? That he’d take one look and drop his drink and put his hands on me the way that I’d dreamed for a stupid number of years?

“Sophie,” Joe breathed again, and his fingers were on my neck. “Beautiful women should not cry at parties.”

Yeah, well, I thought, I’m not beautiful.

I reached again for the zipper, like my desperation would have made it move somehow but no. It was still out of reach.

“Here,” he said. “Can I help you?”

“Unzip my dress?” I all but screeched.

“I just want to help.”

“Okay, but…not in a sexy way.”

In a get-me-out-of-the-damn-dress way.

“Everything about you is sexy,” he said and I rolled my eyes. Honestly, I couldn’t deal with all this.

“Please, just get me out of this fucking dress.” I hung my head, lifting my hair. It looks like you’ve rolled in hay. I flinched at the memory. What had I been thinking? Like a dress could change anything. Makeup.

A stupid thong.

I felt Joe’s fingers against my skin and the slow unzipping of my dress was silent, but his breathing was loud.

Was this real? I wondered. I mean, it seemed obvious. But what if I was wrong. The way I was wrong about everything. It suddenly felt like a trick. A joke he might play on me. And I shrank inside my skin. Tears burning again.

The door to the warehouse clanged and I heard the scuff of a shoe on the cement of the steps. I turned, only to find Fucking Sam Porter sitting on the top step, his elbows braced on his knees. Totally casual. Just having a seat. Taking in the sights.

But his face was ominously still.

My dress gaped around my body, the