Window Shopping(20)

He sits up straighter. “Yeah?”

What am I doing? I don’t know. Flying by the seat of my tights, I guess. Just trying to distract him, take his mind off the unwarranted guilt of being slightly less than happy for a while. “We have fifteen minutes to find the perfect Christmas gift for each other. We’re not really buying them, of course. We’ll put them back afterwards. It’s just an exercise. You can choose it from anywhere in the store.” I pull my phone out and check the time, laughing inwardly at the way Aiden has come to his feet and started to rub his hands together, completely game for this spontaneous idea. “It’s ten forty. We have until ten fifty-five. Meet in the first-floor break room. Go.”

The man takes off running.

He runs like an athlete, no dorkiness detected.

It’s in that moment that I discover something I’d missed. Something monumental.

Aiden Cook has a firm, thick bubble butt.

My jaw unhinges and I have no choice but to let it hang there, the time ticking away on my own challenge just so I can watch those gorgeous buns move until he disappears around the corner. Not before they engrave themselves on my brain, though. Holy. Cakes.

When I realize I’m standing there, hypnotized by the booty, I shake myself.

Move.

I turn on a heel, mentally running through the departments in my head. What would I buy Aiden for Christmas? Menswear has bow ties, but that’s too obvious. I don’t know his shoe size. He probably has amazing luggage already. I’m not choosing him a new cologne to mess with perfection. I already like the way he smells too much.

This task is way more intimate than I realized.

I chew my lip over that fact on the way down the elevator—but my worries are interrupted when it hits me. Oh yeah. I know exactly what to get him.

Twelve minutes later, I jog through the empty aisles of glass cases toward the break room door, gift in hand, positive I’m going to beat him there. I’ve never been in a long-term relationship with a man, but it’s common knowledge they are terrible shoppers, right? He’s probably still upstairs rifling through blouses and sweating bullets.

My notion pops like a bubble when I skid to a shocked stop inside the break room door.

Not only is Aiden there waiting. His wing tips are kicked up, ankles crossed on the rectangular table, hands stacked behind his head. Two steaming mugs of hot chocolate sit on the table beside him, marshmallows bobbing on their surface.

In between the mugs is a long, black velvet case.

“No way,” I breathe, waving a hand in his general direction. “You found my gift and had enough time to make cocoa?”

The slight darkening of his cheekbones has to be a figment of my imagination. He can’t have a bubble butt and be a blusher. That’s got to be illegal. “You might say I’ve got a mental inventory of everything in the store.”

“That tracks,” I mutter.

I move closer to the table, my heart picking up speed with every step I take closer to him. Keeping my features schooled as much as possible, even though I’m ridiculously excited to exchange gifts—when was the last time I did this?—I turn a chair to face him and sit down, trying to cover as much of his present as possible with my hands. As I’m taking my seat, he drops his feet from the table and inches closer, watching each of my movements closely as if he’ll be writing a detailed report about my mannerisms later tonight.

“Who starts?” I manage to say, parched.

Aiden slides the black velvet box across the table. “Ladies first.”

He leans back in the chair, crosses his arms, his right knee starting to jostle. “Oh my God, look at how excited you are. I bet you have a Christmas song playlist, don’t you? December first, that thing is on random twenty-four-seven.”

“Wrong.” He winks at me. “I start it the day after Thanksgiving.”

An unrestrained laugh tumbles from my mouth before I can stop it or even think about swallowing the sound—and his knee stops bouncing abruptly.

In the ensuing silence, the only sound is Aiden exhaling unevenly. “Now that’s a laugh worth waiting around for, Stella.” Then, more to himself, “I was wondering if you were ever going to let me hear it.”

My insides are flailing, but I manage a scowl. “Just don’t get used to it.”

“Getting used to it would be impossible. But trying to hear it again?” His voice matches his eyes now. Smoky. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to help myself.”

He’s not near enough to kiss. Not even close. Based on the havoc his words wreak in my belly, however, he might as well be speaking from above me, his strong body pressing me down, down, down. “M-maybe I’ll just open this,” I manage, wrangling open the box with the desperation of a ten-year-old being gifted an Xbox.

Please be something that distracts me from my boss and his effect on my libido. My…chest. Specifically, inside my ribcage and slightly to the left.

Until I open the box, I don’t stop to consider what might be inside. But when a necklace glitters up at me from the red velvet lining, I realize I was stupid not to anticipate jewelry. It’s a jewelry box. It’s just not what I expected. Not from Aiden. Somehow it seems too forward. Or…like there’s an expectation attached. From this man, though? I don’t know how to react. Was I totally off the mark about his personality?