The One Night Stand Before Christmas - Jana Aston Page 0,16
rest of the month?
Nah. I’m overthinking this. Jillian said Teddy is only in town temporarily. This will all blow over in a week. Still, I dawdle in my car until exactly one minute before starting time.
I’m in my office all of half a minute before Jillian bursts in.
“I am so sorry!”
I’m confused because she’s the one apologizing, not me. Not that I actually need to apologize for sleeping with her brother. We’re both grown consenting adults. But she took the time to warn me that he’s exactly not my type so sleeping with him feels sorta rude. Like I don’t value her advice. Which I do. It’s just that her brother is insanely sexy and that’ll void good advice every time.
“My brother is such an idiot. I’m so sorry.”
“He’s not that bad,” I object with a small laugh, feeling a twinge of defensiveness for Teddy. He really was nothing like the picture Jillian painted of him.
“Not that bad?” Her eyebrows are in danger of reaching her hairline. “He stood you up on Saturday. After he swore to me that he’d show up.”
“No, he didn’t.” I’m frowning as I shake my head, slowly lowering myself into my chair and tapping my keyboard to spring my computer to life. “He was here. The entire afternoon. He was an excellent Santa, by the way.”
“Uh, that’s not possible.” Jillian’s really riled up and I’m starting to feel uneasy. She’s waving her arms in the air and pacing in my office, which is never a good sign. “The little shit went to Vegas. I didn’t even realize he’d stood you up until I saw his pictures on Instagram the following morning.”
Little shit. My unease is beginning to grow as pieces of a puzzle that don’t go together are trying to arrange themselves in my mind. It also feels like a scarf of humiliation is wrapping itself around my throat. It’s really hot and itchy. Pretty sure it’s made out of synthetic materials like regret and assumption.
“How old is Teddy?” I question, as casually as possible, while my brain searches for any answer that makes sense with what I’m hearing.
“Twenty-three. Too old to be this irresponsible. God, I am so sorry, Noel. I didn’t realize he bailed until after the event was over and by then I was worried you weren’t speaking to me because you didn’t even text me to bitch about him bailing.”
She pauses here, confusion crossing her face as my words about Teddy being a great Santa finally catch up with her. She stops pacing, hand on hip.
“Wait, what do you mean he was here? Who was here?”
Great question.
Knockoff Teddy was at least thirty.
“I have no idea,” I mumble, dropping my head into my hands, slumped over my desk.
“What does that mean exactly?” Jillian grabs my cookie tin—newly filled with cookies via my sister—and pops it open, settling into one of the guest chairs in front of my desk.
“He said he was Teddy.” I frown, remembering. He said that, right? No. I asked him if he was Teddy and he shrugged and said, “Sure.” I’m remembering that shrug in a new light now. What kind of psycho just pretends to be someone they’re not? No wonder he was nearly smirking.
What an asshole. Whoever he is.
But he knew me, didn’t he? He looked at me like I was familiar to him, or like he was expecting to meet me. He said things about me not being what he’d expected. He mentioned me working at the community center, didn’t he? How would he know that if he didn’t know who I was? I riffle through my memories, but they’re all jumbled up.
We’ve never met before. I’m sure of that much. I’d remember that hot asshole.
“Your brother really went to Vegas this weekend?” I question even though I’m sure Jillian isn’t confused. Knockoff Teddy was not her brother.
Jillian hands me her phone, screen up and her brother’s Instagram account on display.
“Yeah,” I muse, scrolling through the last few photos. Her brother is hot. But he’s twenty-three and not my type. And he’s most definitely not Knockoff Teddy. “I wouldn’t have slept with him,” I mumble as I flip her phone over in my hand, ready to hand it back.
“Wait, what?” Jillian snaps to attention, straightening up in the chair so fast she nearly drops the tin of cookies in her haste. “You slept with some random Santa and you don’t even know who it was?”
“It’s looking that way, yeah. And don’t be so harsh. I thought