the incoming staff for their shifts as well as guests arriving for the day. I had a feeling he also liked to be in the lobby in the morning because I was usually milling about, prepping for the day ahead and allocating tasks to my small team.
So, I switched up my routine.
I spent the first part of my morning planning strategy in the hotel kitchen with a cup of coffee surrounded by the pounds of candy that were slowly but surely making its way into the house. Then, once there was a safe blanket of staff around helping me with decoration, I remained inside the structure as much as possible. It was my own personal candy-coated bomb shelter.
Only the bomb was my attraction to Saint, and it was as fragile as it was explosive.
“I should have those legs ready to go for you by Monday, Holly.” Roberto startled me and I half-jumped away from the window. “Everything okay?” He regarded me with curious concern.
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Just lost in thought.” When he continued to look skeptical, I added, “You said Monday for the Santa legs?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded. “It’s just taking a little longer than I thought. You’ve certainly taken on a mighty task here with this house.” His small eyes, half-blocked by the roundness of his cheeks, roamed over the structure with impressed appreciation.
I smiled, hugging my chest. “Thank you. I’m hoping it ends up really special.”
“I have no doubt.” His head dipped to signal his exit and he disappeared through the back of the house into the Laurel Court restaurant.
I meandered over to the window to the left of the door, inspecting the four-foot nutcracker that had been installed as its centerpiece. The staunch guardian stood proud, his strong jaw and beard cutting a familiar persona for onlookers and those who would be dining at the table on the other side of the room.
“You’ll keep a lookout, right?” I murmured to the life-size figure. “Let me know if you see any pirates?”
Saint was getting too close to all the vulnerable parts of me. And with how badly I just wanted to kiss him again, I couldn’t risk another chance encounter.
‘Jingle bells, jingle bells...’
I found myself humming along with the iconic tune.
Jingle.
My lips parted on a gasp and my head cocked, listening closer.
Jingle.
My brow furrowed. Was that part of the song? Or was that—
“Are you avoiding me?”
I whipped around with a gasp. “Saint.”
The golden-haired pirate lounged with his shoulder against one of the undecorated walls of the house, casually observing me.
His eyebrow arched, awaiting my answer.
“I’ve been busy. This is kind of a big project.” I notched my head up, letting my eyes wander across the candy-cane covered roof above us to add proof to my excuse.
“And is that why you’re asking the nutcracker to warn you if I’m around?”
Crap. My expression fell. “Well clearly, his big mouth isn’t as helpful as I’d hoped,” I deadpanned, screwing myself because all it did was draw one of Saint’s devastating smiles from his lips, and I hid my own by looking over my shoulder and glaring at the useless soldier.
But his laughter... it was husky and coarse like raw sugar. I shivered. It ignited a hot thrum in my body that melted the crystals of his rich chuckle into molten, sticky desire that settled between my legs and would linger long after this conversation was over.
I folded my arms tighter, warning myself to behave as he approached me.
Today, he wore a crisp blue shirt under his suit with a white tie that had Frosty the Snowman peeking up from the bottom. I swore the man could probably make an ugly Christmas sweater look sexy—which is why I wasn’t even going to mention it.
“How’s everything going?”
I started with the change of subject, both grateful and wary at the seemingly superficial question.
“Good. Right on schedule.”
“I have everything set for the opening next week. I think I told Noelle to start booking the private tables tomorrow.” He turned inside the space, noticing with awe and appreciation all the little changes that had happened since he’d last been inside, the spare moments giving me far too long to appreciate how good he looked, the sight sating my parched gaze
“It will be ready,” I assured him, holding steady next to the nutcracker.
“You should take the night off tomorrow.” He slid his hands into his pockets.
My gaze narrowed. I didn’t take days off. Or nights. This was my project and better that consume me than thoughts of