White Hot Christmas | h.s | COMPLETED

Chapter Four

   AVERY nibbled on the corner of a Santa sugar cookie and skeptically eyed her ex-husband. "You just made that up," she accused.

He devoured a snickerdoodle with red and green sprinkles. "You've never heard the stories about William Bryant having a heart-attack in the office at the age of eighty-two, because he refused to fully retire?"

"William Bryant didn't have the heart attack at the age of eighty-two because he refused to retire. He had a heart attack because he was eighty-two."

Harry shrugged. "He still died. Right here in this room."

She took a bigger bite of the cookie. "I know for a fact that the Bryant & Barnes firm didn't move to this office space until after poor William had kicked the bucket."

He raised an eyebrow. "Then how do you explain all the creaky noises in here?"

"Well let's see. We're in the middle of an epic storm, in a high-rise building that is designed to sway and rock, and probably creak a little with big winds?"

Harry sighed and stretched his legs out in front of him, scooting down in his chair so he was facing the darkened nigh. "Fine then. Your turn for a scary story."

"Why are we telling scary stories? We should be telling Christmas stories."

"I don't know any good Christmas stories."

"Well based on what I've heard, you don't know any good scary ones either," she said.

He sighed. "Oh Counselor. You have no imagination."

Avery opened her mouth to argue, but shut it when she realized he was right. She didn't have much of an imagination. She'd always preferred math tests to writing, biographies to poetry, and she didn't even remotely believe in ghosts. What she should be doing is trying to get some much needed sleep, since there was nothing else that can be accomplished tonight. It wouldn't be comfortable, but it would be the the earliest she'd gone to bed in months. Perhaps she could even get more than five hours and at least pretend to fight back against the purple bags that had taken up permanent residence under her eyes.

But she didn't move.

Because shock of all shocks, she was enjoying herself. With Harry. Her ex-husband who she'd spent the past several years avoiding. And hating.

Except she'd never hated him. Not really.

And being here with him like this tonight reminded her of that. Reminded her that beneath the snark and the competition and the too-easy charm, there was a man under there. A man she'd once loved.

And who'd loved her back.

At least until he'd stopped.

Avery let out a deep breath through the pain. It shouldn't hurt. Not after all this time. But she couldn't forget. Didn't want to forget. Because she needed to remember that this was a man who could hurt her. Even if he did make her heart beat too fast.

"Maybe we should try to turn in for the night," she said quietly, suddenly too aware of the two of them in a quiet, confined space. Sleeping would give her an excuse to go back to her own office and try to ignore the fact that he'd be sleeping just down the hall.

"You're tired?" he asked.

No. "Not sure what else we'll do to pass the time. My laptop's not charged, so I can't do that. My phone battery's almost dead—"

"And yet you took the time to make a phone call," he interrupted. 

Avery frowned. "What?"

"When I came back in with the cookies. You were finishing up a phone call."