Holiday Arrangement

EVIE

~Jesus, fuck.~

In general, I loved a good pair of boot-cut jeans, but not for work. Half my confidence in this job had come from the fact that I dressed to impress, which meant cute skirts and my favorite heels. Now, though, I was stuck in flats ’til my ankle healed.

To make matters worse, since I usually only wore my own jeans for yard work, they all had tears and holes. I ended up borrowing Saanvi’s darkest denim pants and pairing them with an elegant, deep-green blouse to dress them up a bit.

Today, I didn’t want anyone looking at me, so I opted for a nude lip and just a touch of neutral brown shadow. Like every day, I took a curling iron to my hair, but I sighed as soon as I checked it out in the mirror.

Why did I even bother? It was so long that it looked like beach waves no matter what.

~Ugh.~ ~Get it together, Evie.~ I normally never judged my appearance this harshly. Maybe the lack of confidence was due to my absent Louboutins…or maybe it was because my boss was on his way over to pick me up.

Deserting my unsatisfactory reflection, I shuffled down to the foyer, seized my black jacket from the peg by the door, and tossed it over my shoulders. Then I zoned out staring at the white shiplap walls, feeling lost in anxiety.

“Good morning, dear,” my mother said, rounding the corner. “How’s your ankle?” Her sympathetic green eyes looked so much like mine, and I let myself come back to reality.

“It’s a little better. Still hurts if I put too much pressure on it, but the swelling’s gone down.”

“That’s good,” she said, smiling and pulling me into a good-morning hug. Her short, silver-gray hair tickled my cheek as I rubbed the back of her maroon cable-knit sweater.

When she pulled back, it was with a spark of mischief in her expression. “I was thinking maybe we should invite your man friend over for dinner—to thank him for driving you home and whatnot.”

Of course. She was just using my ankle as small talk to pry up some info on my so-called “secret boyfriend.”

Saanvi had wasted no time telling my parents all about the man she’d seen me talking with at the bar, and she’d managed to catch a glimpse of him last night too as he drove away. Now my whole family was convinced I was dating someone new.

“I think that’s a great idea,” my father said, joining the party. “It’ll be nice to see that you’re getting back out there.”

It kind of sucked how eager they both were for me to pair off again so soon after everything ended with Greg. I wasn’t ready!

“Look, I know you guys care about me, but that guy’s not my boyfriend, he’s not going to be, and he is not coming to dinner.”

~Ping.~

My cell chimed, and I peeked at the screen.

Vázquez

I’m here, angel.

“He’s here,” I said, peering at my parents.

My mom raised her brows. “Can we at least—”

I threw her a glare harsh enough to cut off the question and stepped out onto the porch.

Sam was leaning casually against the passenger side door of his maroon Mercedes. It looked like he couldn’t wait to get me into his car again.

His tan skin and dark-brown hair were even more striking against the snowy backdrop. He looked so damn handsome in his black suit and red tie; I could hardly contain my raunchy thoughts. How I would love to watch him come undone…again.

He opened the car door for me, grinning, before heading over to his own seat. I could practically feel my entire household gawking out the living room window.

It was a good thing they didn’t know what my new boss looked like. I wasn’t ready to introduce them to my “secret boyfriend,” and I was even less ready for them to know that he was actually my boss.

“Did Christmas come early this year?” Sam asked, slamming his car door and inspecting me from head to toe. “Because you look like a damn gift.”

I smirked. “Cute.”

“Right?”

I rolled my eyes. “Just drive before my parents come out here and invite you to dinner.”

“Oh.” He impersonated a ponder. “I do love a home-cooked meal…”

I shot him a glare.

“All right, all right.” He huffed, turning the key. “I’m going.”

***

My luminous computer screen glared at me as I verified appointment after appointment. Sam had promised to grab me a cappuccino…half an hour ago? An hour? I couldn’t keep track, but I really needed the caffeine.

Nicolette approached my desk with a cordial smile, but as usual her ramrod-straight posture and severe skirt suit were a little intimidating. It was Nicolette’s job to keep all the Vázquez staff in line, and I could tell she took that seriously.

“Hello, Ms. Beckett,” she said. “I just wanted to check on how you’ve been faring over the past couple of days.”

“I’ve been doing very well here, thank you,” I said, returning the smile.

Sam emerged from the elevator, two coffees in hand, and tensed up a little when he spotted Nicolette.

Nicolette furrowed her brows, watching as he slid my cup toward me. “Do you always get coffee for your secretaries?”

~Only the ones he’s slept with…~

“Well,” said Sam, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, “Evie fell last night and hurt her ankle. I bought her a coffee in hopes she won’t sue me.”

~Good save, Vázquez.~

“Well, are you all right?” Nicolette asked me, immediately all business. “Did you fill out an accident report?”

“No. There’s no need. My ankle will heal. Things happen,” I said nervously.

“All right, well, let me know if that changes. I can email you the form.”

“Okay.” I nodded. “Thanks.”

Sam shot me a skittish glance before heading back into his office. Nicolette threw me a quick “Keep up the good work” and retreated to the elevator.

Adrenaline fading, I turned back to my spreadsheets.

***

Later that night, after the building was empty, Sam and I sat across from one another at his desk, reading through the rest of the merger paperwork.

Outside, a blizzard was rolling in. I could hear the occasional howl of the wind, and every time I glanced toward the window, more and more fat flakes were splattering against the glass.

I wasn’t used to driving in more than a few inches of snow, but Sam had offered to take me home, so it wasn’t a big deal to stay here late again.

“So, how much fire did your family rain down on you about a stranger bringing you home?” he asked, taking a break from the documents to stretch his neck.

“Enough.” I sighed. “They all think I have some secret boyfriend.”

“Yeah, my mom too.” He chuckled, peering back at the contracts. “Maybe we should just fake a relationship to keep them happy.”

~Wait a minute.~

“That actually might work,” I said slowly.

He smirked. “I was kidding.”

“I’m not,” I said. “Think about it.”

This would be perfect. If I could convince my parents and Saanvi that I was in a new relationship, they’d stop pressuring me to “get back out there” before I was ready. I could concentrate on myself for once.

After all, I didn’t have time or money for a real relationship—not if I wanted to save up enough to open an Evangeline’s location right here in Vermont.

“Okay, so if I were to agree to this…” Sam placed his manila folder on the desktop, looking intrigued. “What would be the ground rules?”

I shrugged. “It’ll be no different from what we’ve already been doing. When we’re here at work, we stay business casual. Out there in the world, we’re both free to hook up with whoever we want.

“Just, we also tell our families we’re dating. And maybe you can come to dinner with mine sometime? They were asking, and I’m sure they’ll keep asking. I can meet yours too if you want,” I added, hoping to make it fair.

~Come on, Vázquez.~

Sam took a long moment to think about it. “All right,” he muttered finally. “Why not?”

It took another twenty minutes to finish up the tedious heap of contracts. Then Sam locked up his office, turned out the lights, and walked with me toward the elevator bank. He pressed the down arrow; it lit up orange as I made for the stairwell.

“Wait, Evie,” he said, sounding confused. “Where’re you going?”

“The stairs.” Wasn’t that obvious?

“Come on.” Sam frowned. “You hurt your ankle yesterday. You can take the elevator today.”

“No, you don’t understand, I—”

“Evie,” he said in a deep tone.

~Him and his fucking common sense.~

Reluctantly, I limped back to his side, and a moment later the elevator doors opened. I immediately hated how the platform moved as we added our weight. As the silver doors closed behind us, I focused on keeping my breathing steady.

I examined the gleaming numbers as they counted down, feeling a little stab of relief with each floor we passed.

~Seven, six, five, four, three…~

Then the box unexpectedly stopped, and the comforting little floor numbers blacked out. A somber red emergency light kicked on, and silence replaced the electrical hum.

~Oh, fuck, no. This can’t be happening.~

“There must be a power outage because of the storm,” Sam said, pulling out his phone.

I barely heard him over my heartbeat. The walls were closing in from every side, mercilessly squashing my lungs.

I felt like the elevator was conspiring to rid me of all my air before I could breathe it. No matter how many times I sucked in breath, it wasn’t enough to satisfy.

“Evie?”

I didn’t answer.

“Evie?” Sam barked, figuring out that I really wasn’t okay. “What’s wrong?”

“You remember how I said I wasn’t a fan of elevators?” I asked, gasping between each word.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” I heaved. “I’m claustrophobic.”