Page 9 of Christmas with the Boss
Not okay.
Exhausted.
“Why don’t you take a nap?” If she sleeps, I’ll have fewer opportunities to stick my size-thirteen foot into my mouth. “That way, I can concentrate on driving during this snowstorm, and after you’ve gotten some rest, we can better interrogate each other.”
I try to make it sound like I’m joking about the last part, but I’m completely serious. I want to know everything about how she’s spending the holidays, including if a boyfriend is meeting her there. This might be my only chance to find out anything about her personal life, so I might as well take it.
As she falls asleep, her head rests against the window, leaving me with a nice view of her beautiful profile. I focus on the snowy road, stealing glances at her. I love how her lips curl into a tiny smile every now and then as if she’s sharing secrets with Santa Claus. I know better than to think she’s dreaming of me. I’m not that delusional.
As I drive, I envision myself as her knight in a glistening sleigh instead of my snow-laden SUV, valiantly steering our trusty vehicle through a winter wonderland. I nearly laugh at how I’m awkwardly trying to play it cool while sneaking peeks at her. Each time I do, I can’t help but picture us drinking mugs of hot chocolate overflowing with marshmallows and getting tangled up in Christmas lights as we decorate a little tree that leans to one side.
A snow drift juts into the road, jolting me back to reality. I need to stop daydreaming and concentrate on driving so we arrive at her parents’ house in one piece.
An hour later, something rustles in the passenger seat, and I shift my gaze briefly. She stirs, stretching her arms overhead and blinking her eyes open. “Did I fall asleep?”
“Yes, you did.”
She squints out the window, her breath frosting the glass. “How long have we been driving? Are we still on the same planet?”
A reasonable question, considering that the snowstorm looks like a giant jar of marshmallow fluff decided to cover everything.
“Last I checked, we’re enroute to your parents’ house,” I assure her. “But judging by this raging storm, we might end up at the North Pole.”
She straightens. “If we’re going to the North Pole, does that mean Powerfluff can be Santa’s new helper?”
Through the rearview mirror, I see the gray cat lounging, no doubt plotting how to steal cookies from Santa. “Absolutely. I bet they even have cat-sized elf suits.”
“I hope they wear protective gear when they try to put it on Powerfluff.” Abby’s laughter is a sweet sound against the swirling snow and wind.
“Where are you spending the holidays?” she asks.
“At my grandparents’ house, but not until tomorrow.”
Her nose crinkles. “But it’s Christmas Eve.”
“We don’t celebrate until Christmas Day.”
“That’s…different.”
“My grandmother doesn’t think so.” I don’t want to talk about my family situation, especially since she works with me. I want to know more about hers, though. “Are you excited to see your family?”
“The only thing I’m excited about is the next two days passing as quickly as possible.” She sucks in a breath and covers her mouth with her hand. “Oh, no. Did I say that aloud?”
“I can pretend I didn’t hear it.” But, man, do I have some questions.
“No take-backs.”
Never heard that one in this kind of scenario. “Is that a rule?”
“Once you say something, it’s out there. You can pretend you didn’t hear it, but can you honestly say you’ve unheard it?”
I consider her words. Interesting, but she’s right. “I can’t.”
“Thank you for being honest.”
“So, why do you want the holiday to go by quickly?”
Her lighthearted smile falters enough for me to catch the shift in her expression. “Family drama.” She maintains an upbeat tone, but I sense an undercurrent of something deeper in those two words.
