“Wrapping is more cost-effective,” Lauren pointed out. “A roll of that paper probably costs as much as a single bag, and we can get several gifts out of it.”
A couple days ago, the human cash register joke would’ve written itself. But now he didn’t know where he stood with Lauren, didn’t know if humor would move him forward or set him back. “More importantly,” he said, directing his words more to her than to Daniel, “gift-wrapping shows a certain amount of care. It shows that you took time and effort with your present, that you thought of the recipient. That you wanted them to have that moment when their pulse quickens, right before they tear off the paper. Or maybe they open it carefully, undoing each piece of tape, savoring the anticipation of revealing what’s underneath.”
Lauren’s dark eyes looked big and luminous behind her glasses. He wouldn’t have known she was up half the night except for the slight purple shadows there. And under that cardigan and button-up shirt, he knew she probably still had a small rosy circle on the curve of her neck, where he’d sucked at her skin.
“Are we still talking about wrapping up snow globes?” Daniel asked derisively. “I doubt there’s anything in this shop worth being that precious about.”
Kiki gestured over at a table in the corner, which they’d intended to be a gift-wrapping station once it got a little closer to Christmas. “You can set up over there,” she said. “Just don’t be surprised if no one comes.”
Lauren gathered up the supplies and headed over to the table, but Asa called Daniel back, holding up the Sharpie. “You forgot this,” he said. The way the other man snatched it from Asa’s fingers, he seemed to understand that there was some kind of implied insult in the gesture, even if he couldn’t figure out what it was.
“What do you think that’s about?” Kiki whispered once Daniel and Lauren were settled in at the table on the other side of the gift shop.
“You know how Dolores gets around the holidays,” Asa said gruffly. “She’s obviously in the middle of some frenzied game of workplace musical chairs.”
“The dinner date last night must’ve gone really well,” Kiki said, ignoring him. “I tried to ask her about it this morning, but she was her usual Lauren self about it.”
Daniel said something that made Lauren laugh, and for the life of him Asa could not think what that walking GQ background model could’ve said that would be remotely funny. Lauren glanced up, the smile fading from her face as their eyes caught, and he studied the sales tax guide slid under the glass top of the counter like he’d be quizzed on it later.
“What does that mean,” he asked, “her usual Lauren self?”
“You know how she is,” Kiki said. “Getting her to talk about anything personal can be like pulling teeth.”
He thought back to things she’d revealed the night before. He got the impression she didn’t have a lot of family, but he couldn’t pinpoint anything beyond that. She’d mentioned not having a lot of pictures. The only time she’d mentioned any kind of family had been when she was talking about her mother, and the ritual they’d had around good-luck flowers.
That had been around when she’d gotten weird, come to think of it. He’d assumed she’d been freaking out because they’d fooled around, but now he wondered if there wasn’t more to it than just that.
“Why are you pushing Daniel so hard? You know that guy is the worst.”
Kiki shrugged. “Eh. It’s like that Love, Actually plotline, the one with Laura Linney? He’s the hot guy at work who she’s had a crush on forever, and she deserves a chance for wish fulfillment. It doesn’t have to be a relationship—just a chance to fuck her brains out. You know. If she wants. And if she doesn’t get a call from her mentally ill brother in the middle of it.”
As if Asa needed another reason to hate that movie. “First of all,” he said. “Kiss your mother with that mouth?”
“Oh, like you—”
He held up his hand to stop her. He really, really didn’t want to hear her say anything else about Lauren in that vein. Already those words were rattling around his head, pounding behind his temples.
“Second of all, if you see Daniel as any man in that movie—and yes, before you protest, including bumbling Hugh Grant the sexual harassment nightmare, including the dude with the cheesy boundary-crossing signs, including even that self-centered little kid—”
“Colin Firth,” Kiki cut in. “You can’t say anything against Colin Firth.”
“I don’t even remember his plotline,” Asa said. “That’s how forgettable it was. The point is, if you’re comparing Daniel to any dude in that movie you’re only proving me right.”
Kiki straightened a stack of Cold World brochures so the edges were even. “I’m going to laugh my ass off when Lauren gets you coal for Secret Santa.”
“Wait.” He leaned against the counter so his back was to Lauren and Daniel on the other side of the gift shop. “Lauren has me?”
Kiki put her hand over her mouth, looking genuinely stricken. “Shit,” she said. “I just broke the first rule of Secret Santa, didn’t I? And I had to do it to the chief of Christmas police himself. This was entrapment. You tricked me into saying it—”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “And don’t call me the Christmas police. If anything, I prefer to think of myself as leading a holiday community support team.”
He glanced over at the table again. Now Lauren was earnestly explaining something to Daniel, and wonder of wonders, he appeared to be actually listening. She was gesturing with her hands, forming some kind of slope, almost like a mountaintop, and Daniel reached over to adjust her wrists so that the angle was different. Asa waited for her to look annoyed, or irritated, or even just dismissive. But instead she got a dreamy look on her face for a moment, like she couldn’t believe he was deigning to pay attention to her.
Asa pushed back against the counter. “Shouldn’t they be wrapping presents?”
Kiki looked around. “There are no customers.”
“They should wrap practice ones,” Asa said. “I’m getting some boxes from the back.”
When he dropped the empty boxes on the table a few minutes later, Lauren startled, like she’d had no idea he was even there.
“For you to practice your technique,” he said. “Each of you can wrap a present, and I’ll give you feedback. Once you’ve mastered that, I’ll introduce you to ribbon curling.”
“Come on,” Daniel said. “That’s completely unnecessary. That chick said it herself—nobody is even going to come.”
“That chick’s name is Kiki, and it sounds like this is what Dolores sent you here to do,” Asa said. “You might as well do it.”
“I’d like to practice,” Lauren said, clearly wanting to defuse the tension. She reached for the blue metallic paper printed with tiny silver snowflakes, sliding it under one of the empty boxes.
Daniel grabbed the other roll of paper but made no move to unfurl it yet. “What do you say we make this interesting?” he said. “Have a contest to see who’s the best wrapper.”
Asa’s gaze slid to Lauren. She wasn’t one to turn down any competition. But already he didn’t like this. Daniel was angling for something, and he didn’t know what.
Clearly, Lauren was having her own doubts about the proposition. She flicked her thumb against the edge of the tape dispenser, wincing a little as she seemed to realize it was sharp. “What did you have in mind?”
“If I win, you help me with my PowerPoint for the presentations,” Daniel said.
Asa resisted the urge to roll his eyes. If Daniel ever had a job in his life that required an actual résumé, he’d be the type to put “proficient in Microsoft Office” under the skills section and then spend the whole time at his new job demanding other people show him how to do the things he’d said he already knew how to do.
“And if you win,” Daniel continued. “I’ll take you on a date.”