7

Santa, Baby

Dixie

We strolled the concourse, Brogan seeming to have a destination in mind. “I was down this way earlier,” he explained as he pointed to the end of the terminal. As we drew closer, I could see a Christmas tree standing off to one side, in front of a cardboard fireplace showing a painted fire and stockings. The tree twinkled with little white lights, and boxes sat wrapped beneath it.

“Almost as good as the real thing,” I said quietly.

Brogan looked at me, his eyes narrowing. “You’re sad.”

“I’m sorry. I miss my family.” I knew it was a little ungrateful. I had the world’s most handsome distraction at my side and the sight of a painted fire made me wish for my mother instead. Or maybe I wished for my mother in addition to my current distraction. Though that might just be weird.

“I understand,” Brogan said. He gestured toward the ground. “Will you sit by the fire with me?”

“Of course.” We sat down on the floor, in front of the fake fire, and Brogan set the packages in front of us. “Ready to open gifts?”

“Always!” I actually found myself clapping my hands in front of my chest like a child, and then quickly lowered them, glancing at Brogan who was grinning at me. Busted.

“Me first,” Brogan said, picking up his box.

I felt my eyebrows fly up. “Always a gentleman, I see.”

“Not when it comes to opening gifts.” Brogan smiled and shook the small box next to his ear. “What could it be?” He pulled off the ribbon and opened the box, lifting the mug out and inspecting it. “Ha!”

I grinned when he actually laughed out loud. “Do you like it?”

“It’s perfect.” He leaned forward and kissed me softly.

I could have kissed him all night, but there were gifts to be opened. I pulled away. “There’s more.”

“How could there be anything more? This is perfect!” But Brogan put the mug down carefully and dug in the box, pulling out the keychain. “Hmm,” he said. “This could mean many things. Either you think I have a penchant for misplacing my keys and need a weighty and large keychain to anchor them,” he paused looking at me.

I smiled and shook my head.

“Or you are suggesting I should maybe go take a swim,” he offered.

I shook my head again.

“Or you are saying in the most subtle way possible that I might be the most devilishly handsome man you’ve ever encountered at the airport.”

I nodded, laughing. “You got that from the Bay?”

“Could be wishful thinking I guess.”

“It means something like that.”

“Good,” Brogan said. “I don’t relish the thought of swimming right now. If you want me to go, I’ll just end up buying one of those travel blankets and claiming a cot. Your turn.”

“Finally.”

“Oh, so impatient for your airport-procured goodies, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” I pulled the ribbon off the box, taking a moment to smile up at Brogan before opening it. He was gorgeous, the lights from the tree reflecting in his eyes, the smile lingering at the corners of his mouth. His face was beginning to show a shadow of stubble, and it enhanced the ruggedly handsome cut of his jaw. I felt myself grow warmer even in the glow of a fake fire, and wondered if Brogan could tell what I was thinking. Namely, that I wanted him to jump me right here in front of the Christmas tree.

I pulled my eyes from his and returned my attention to the box. I slid the lid off and pulled out the tissue, revealing a snow globe. Inside was a tiny forest next to a runway with planes set upon it. And when I shook it, the whole scene was exactly like the world right outside the terminal windows.

“It’s amazing,” I said. “Now I feel stupid for getting you a joke gift.” My heart sank a bit—how had he managed to find something so perfect in that stupid shop? I didn’t see these there. But I’m not sure I would have thought to buy one if I had.

“This is no joke,” Brogan said, pointing at the saying on his mug. “I would be lying if I told you that I’d never had beer in a coffee mug. Now I can just be upfront about it.”

“You’re just trying to make me feel better. I want to get you something good. Something real. Like this.” I held up the sparkling snow globe. It was plastic, but it was perfect. “When’s your birthday?” The question was out before I thought much about what it implied. Would I even still know this guy on his birthday? Would he want to know me?

“Not until August, I’m afraid.” Brogan looked at me hard for a moment after the words were out, and then a smile spread across his face. “Might I hope that you and I will still know each other in August?”

Relief flooded me, and I smiled, but my heart was skipping beats. Why was the thought of still knowing Brogan in August so exciting? I barely knew the guy, had spent next to no time with him, and really knew absolutely nothing about him. But suddenly, the idea of not knowing him in August was the saddest thing I could imagine. “I hope so.”

Brogan’s smile spread, and the dimples made another appearance. He scooted closer to me and put an arm around my shoulders. We sat like that, my head on his shoulder looking up at the tree, for what felt like a long time.

I pressed myself into the curve under Brogan’s arm. I was content, but part of my mind was spinning, trying to figure out how to get him to kiss me again. I’d never been the most forward of girls. I could sigh and try to turn my head ever so slightly, or maybe just turn and attack him. Despite all the signs and words between us, I couldn’t work up the courage. I did sigh, but it was more out of frustration with my own inability to just kiss the incredible man beside me.

The terminal had gone quiet around us, most of the other stranded travelers and workers claiming a cot for the night and dozing at the other end of the long space.

“I’ll be honest,” Brogan said, his voice low and soft.

“Okay,” I whispered.

“I’m just sitting here trying to decide if I can convince you in some clever way to kiss me again.”

My heart zinged. “All you’d have to do is ask.”

“Would you kiss me again, Dixie?”

“I’d love to.” I turned my head and stretched my neck up to meet Brogan. The second our lips touched, the fire low in my core burst back to life.

Brogan’s body turned toward me and he gathered me in his arms, pulling me onto his lap. It was awkward at first, as I tried to get as close to him as my body demanded while still keeping my skirt pulled down to an appropriate length near my knees. But as the kiss deepened, our tongues matching each other stroke for stroke, I couldn’t repress the desire for more. My body was taking over, and my conscious mind was retreating into a dim haze, curling into a contented ball and settling in for a nap. I gave up all pretense of self-control and climbed farther onto Brogan’s lap, one knee on either side of him. Brogan chuckled into my lips, the sound vibrating through me, and then he pulled me against him, hard.

My breath was coming in gasps as my center pressed up against Brogan’s belt. And judging by the bulge I felt just beneath me, I wasn’t the only one on the edge. Brogan’s arms were around me, one hand on my ass, pulling me constantly nearer, as his tongue became more demanding.

He broke off the kiss then, and suddenly his breath was on my throat, followed by his lips and the tip of his tongue, tracing soft circles up beneath my ear.

“Oh God,” I moaned. Hearing my own voice brought me back to myself, and I jumped backwards, clasping a hand over my mouth and darting my eyes around to see if anyone was close enough to have heard. Making out ferociously with near strangers beneath fake trees at airports was not on the list of nice-girl activities.

“Was that all right?” Brogan looked worried.

“It was … God, no. It was more than all right. I just realized that I’m sitting on the floor in an airport at midnight on Christmas Eve, making out and moaning like a slut!”

Brogan looked embarrassed when I said the word ‘slut,’ and I immediately regretted it. I was slut-shaming myself and making him feel guilty—neither of which was my intent.

“I mean … I’m enjoying myself. And you …” I couldn’t meet his eye when I said that. “But we’re out here in the open …”

“You’re right. I’m so sorry, I’m not really being a gentleman, am I?”

“Trust me, I don’t really mind.” I had an idea then—maybe a bad one, but it seemed pretty good at the time. “Hey, come with me.” I stood up and offered Brogan my hand, adjusting my hemline with the other hand.

“All right.” Brogan gathered our belongings and followed.