Page 2 of Baby, it's Cold Outside
“What?” I ask, not remembering if there was a question or whether I am supposed to do something besides stare at him like the present I’d like under my tree.
“Are you ready for me to help?”
Yes, the answer is yes. Yes to anything he wants. Yes!
“Huh?” is what comes out past my lips.
“The tree. Are you going to let me help you?” He grins at me, knowing my only other choice is to leave it here, stuck in the doors.
“Help?”
“Yeeeeah,” the word comes out slowly, which is apparently the cylinder I’m firing on. He puts his coffee cup down and then extends his hand. “I’m Michael.”
What a name. It’s simple, classic, and so totally him. I think there was an angel named Michael, right? Maybe a god? If not, there is now. The god of Sexy Men. That is Michael.
I sigh, my eyes blinking slowly as I stare at him.
His head tilts just a little, lips pursed as he waits expectantly.
Shit. I should talk. “Harlow.”
“Harlow?”
“Yes?”
He smirks. “Your name is Harlow?”
If the ground could just open me up and swallow me, that would be cool. “Sorry,” I say as I take his hand like I should’ve to start with. “Yes, I’m Harlow, and this is my tree that is resisting its new home.” I’m hoping I can recover from this horrific introduction with a modicum of self-respect intact.
“I hear that some trees are just difficult.”
“This is apparently the story of my life.”
Men. Trees. People. Parents. They’re all difficult. What’s that saying about the common denominator? I’m starting to wonder…
“Well, let’s see if we can’t get the tree upstairs and willing to behave.”
“Doubtful, but I appreciate it.”
Michael moves to the double doors and pushes one to the side and then slides in a locking mechanism I didn’t know existed, and then repeats it on the other side.
Seriously, I hate my life.“Thatwould’vemade it easier….”
He gives me a panty-melting smile and his brows rise. “And probably saved a lot of branches.”
“That too.”
“Why don’t you grab the top?” he suggests.
I move to the front of the tree, resisting the urge to punch myself in the face.
“Ready?”
I nod.
With almost no effort, we move the tree through the doors and to the elevator. “Thank you, I can get it upstairs.”
Michael gives me a look that says he’s not so sure of it, which I’ve earned. “I’ll help you get it to the apartment. You know, there are two more doors to get it through.”
