He Sees You When You're Sleeping (Naughty or Nice, #1)

by Alta Hensley

Not only has he been shoveling my walkway after every storm, but he also hung the Christmas lights outside my window. Granted, it was a single and simple strand of lights on my tall shrub, but I appreciated the effort. “Ha! Not that lazy fool. I’ve known Lionel for years, and that man hasn’t stepped a foot on this property since . . . who knows?” I reenter the living room with the steaming mugs. “But if he didn’t, then who did?” I ask, handing Mr. Haven his tea. He chuckles, cradling the mug between his gnarled hands. “Maybe Santa’s elves. Or you have yourself a helpful stalker.”

Over the past few years, I’ve been shoveling Chloe’s walkway after a snowstorm for three reasons.

And like always, I promise myself that this will be the last time I come around to watch her from afar. But deep down inside, I know that’s a lie. Chloe Hallman is my drug.

But as I start walking to work, I can’t shake the image of Chloe’s smile, the sound of her laugh. I tell myself this is the last time, that I’ll stop coming to the café, stop following her. Okay . . . I’m a liar. I miss her already.

Obsession has a flavor. I can taste it on my lips.

I know, I want to say. I want to admit that I was the one working the scene that night. That I was the firefighter who pulled her parents’ bodies from the wreckage. That I held her shaking hand as I got her into the ambulance. That I went to the hospital after my shift to check on her and have watched over her ever since.

Despite everything, despite the lies and the secrets, I do feel a connection with Chloe. One that goes beyond my initial fascination with her. One that scares me more than I’d like to admit. And after what I discovered about her last night . . . Well, it’s fair to say that my obsession has grown to a completely new level of insanity. This woman is my dream girl, and she doesn’t even know it.

We’ll eat Chinese food, watch true crime, and then follow it up with It’s a Wonderful Life. Best of both worlds.”

“Wanna know a secret? I happen to like dark,” he says, his eyes connecting with mine. Jesus. I swallow hard, trying to ignore the sudden spark of electricity between us. “Dark, huh? Be careful what you wish for, Jack.” He holds my gaze, his expression turning serious. “I’m not afraid of the dark. Or of you.”

“Good night, Ms. Scrooge,” he murmurs. “Sweet dreams of sugarplums and serial killers.”

You want a man who doesn’t ask. He just does. You want a man who takes control, who knows what you need before you even realize it yourself. I see a woman who craves intensity. Who wants to be pushed to her limits, to experience everything life has to offer. But I also see someone who’s afraid. Afraid of losing control, of being truly vulnerable.

Yup, I’m going to hell on a sleigh ride. I’m double-fisting my ticket to hell.