Free Christmas Steele by Vanessa Gray Bartal

on the couch waiting
for you?”
    “I’ll be quick,” she promised.
    He let go her hand and pushed a button on his
watch. “You have twenty minutes and then I’m coming to get you.”
His smile turned wicked. “Take your time.”
    She hastened away, knowing he would be true
to his word and come looking for her in exactly twenty minutes.
Taking the world’s fastest shower, she still managed to wash her
hair twice and shave her legs and armpits, though not without
consequences. Her legs were so nicked and streaked with blood they
looked like candy canes. She would have to forego drying her hair,
but makeup was a necessity. She quickly applied powder, eye shadow
and gloss and was just reaching for the mascara when the handle on
the door turned. It was locked, but he would quickly pick it. She
used the time it took for him to find a hanger to apply some
mascara so that by the time he had the door open
she—hopefully—looked like a different person.
    “You made it,” he said, sounding
disappointed.
    She tossed her mascara back in her makeup bag
and zipped it up. “What would you have done if you found me not
ready?” she asked.
    He propped his shoulder against the
doorframe. “That depends on how not ready you were,” he said. His
tone was warm and flirtatious, and Lacy decided this was probably a
road they shouldn’t go down, and especially not when she was still
warm from the shower and they had a house to themselves.
    “Are you hungry?” she asked.
    His answering smile acknowledged the fact
that she was pointedly changing the subject. “I ate at work; it was
a slow night, and I was hungry,” he explained, probably because he
didn’t usually eat while he was working.
    “How did you work last night if you worked a
double yesterday?” she asked.
    “I went home, slept for four hours, and went
back to work for another four.”
    Lacy shook her head. “Not healthy, Jason.
Please tell me you’re at least getting paid overtime for all this
work.”
    “There’s no money for overtime,” he said.
    “Jason,” Lacy said, knowing it would do no
good to tell him to slow down. For whatever reason, he felt like he
had to give a hundred and ten percent all of the time.
    “You worried about me, Red?” he guessed.
    She nodded. “All the time.”
    “You’re the only one who does,” he added
softly. They came to a stop beside the tree and she smiled up at
him.
    “That’s okay; I worry enough for ten
people.”
    “That must mean you think about me a lot,” he
said, his tone turning cocky.
    “And the moment is over,” she said, settling
her attention on the tree. She bent and began trying to struggle
the behemoth free from its box. It was an old tree, sold before the
newer, streamlined versions became available. But, heavy as it was,
Lacy wouldn’t have it any other way. She had always loved her
grandmother’s tree with it’s blue lights and old-fashioned
decorations.
    Jason stood back, watching. “At what point
are you going to admit defeat and ask for my help?”
    “At what point are you going to be a
gentleman and offer?” she returned, peeved that she couldn’t get
the tree out by herself. This was not her day for independence,
apparently.
    Jason reached down and easily separated the
tree from its box, smiling smugly at Lacy when she wrinkled her
nose at him. “How does this thing go together?” he asked.
    “You have to find the matching colors. Only
it’s so old that the colors are sort of rubbed off, so you have to
guess a lot of the time.” She immersed herself fully in the tree,
looking closely at the holes to try and tell what color they were
supposed to be. “They all look gray,” she announced.
    “The biggest branches probably go at the
bottom, don’t you think?” Jason asked as he began sorting
branches.
    “Yes, but which ones are the biggest?” Lacy
backed out of the tree and they studied the pile of branches on the
floor. They all looked the same to her, but Jason must