Once Upon a Christmas Eve

Closing time. Finally.

Tina loved her job, most days. But standing behind a roll-down gate, folding sweaters, and tagging straggling merchandise in a near-empty store wasn’t her idea of a magical Christmas Eve.

Not that she had anywhere else to be. Her cheating ex-boyfriend had seen to that.

Two weeks ago, she’d walked in on Charlie mid-affair, pants around his ankles, mouth full of excuses, and now she was officially on the “newly single” list. With family two hours away in good weather and a snowstorm hovering just north, she’d decided to spend the holiday in the city.

Better to prep for the Boxing Day sale than rush back to an empty apartment and microwave leftovers for one.

She ducked behind the counter and silenced the loop of holiday tunes screeching through the speakers. Christmas music had been cute in November.

Straightening, she glanced across the store and froze. A man stood on the other side of the locked gate.

Every damn Christmas Eve. There was always one: the desperate last-minute shopper.

Usually middle-aged, usually clueless, always sweating and begging for mercy. But this guy…didn’t fit the mold.

He couldn’t have been much older than thirty-five. Brown hair fell just a touch too long, pushed back in a way that said effortless but expensive.

A strong jaw. Broad shoulders that filled out a black cargo jacket, like he was used to being in control of a room.

His eyes were warm hazel and fixed on her with an intensity that prickled the back of her neck. Then came the smile—easy, charming, and dangerous.

It should’ve come with a warning label. She stiffened. Nope. Not happening.

Turning her back, she resumed tidying the display table with aggressive precision. She wasn’t about to fall for flirty eyes and a square jaw, not after Charlie.

Unfortunately, this guy didn’t take the hint. The metal gate rattled once.

Then again, louder.

“We’re closed,” she called over her shoulder, her voice sharp enough to slice through tinsel.

“So’s everywhere else,” he said smoothly.

She sighed. “Try the shop down on Fourth. Perfume counter. Gucci Bloom. It’s basic, but girls like it.”

Not that she’d know firsthand anymore. Charlie had bought her that exact perfume, and then slapped someone else’s name on the card.

“The person I’m shopping for doesn’t wear perfume,” the man replied, his voice warm and unreasonably confident.

She groaned under her breath. “Fine. Chocolates. Lindor truffles if you want the good stuff.”

He laughed. It was a low, rumbling sound that hit her somewhere behind the ribs. Unfair.

“Noted,” he said. “But I was hoping for something a little more…thoughtful.”

She kept her back turned. “Look, the register’s closed. I couldn’t sell you anything even if I wanted to.”

“I’ve got cash. I’ll be quick. And I’ll throw in a big tip.”

Her head snapped up. “Wow. That’s quite the proposition. I know my skirt’s a little short, but I’m not that kind of salesgirl.”

For a moment, silence.

Then the metal rattled again, this time as he walked away.

Relief stirred in her chest, followed swiftly by a jab of something that felt suspiciously like disappointment.

“Ah, hell,” she muttered.

Grabbing the keys from beneath the counter, she crouched down, rolled the gate up just enough to squeeze under, and slipped into the mall. The echo of her heels bounced across the polished floor as she hurried after him.

“Hey!”

He turned just as she reached him, and she nearly barreled straight into his chest. Solid. Warm. Tall.

“Come back,” she said, breathing slightly unevenly. “I’ll help you find something. You’ve got ten minutes. Take it or leave it.”

He smiled, full and slow. “I’ll take it. Thank you.”

Back inside, she left the gate cracked just in case her Good Samaritan moment turned out to be poor judgment. If he pulled a knife or started quoting Andrew Tate, she wanted an escape route.

“Tell me about this non-perfume-wearing mystery woman,” she said, leading him toward a rack of hoodies.

“Her name’s Cindy. She’s about your height and build, but younger. And less…curvy.”

Ouch. Tina blinked and forced a brittle smile. “Guess I’ll start my New Year’s diet early,” she said.

She yanked a fitted hoodie and matching leggings from the display, stabbing them in his direction. “This work?”

He barely glanced at them. “Do you like them?”

“I own the same ones. Stretched out from all my, you know, curviness.”

This time, he wisely avoided laughing, but his eyes twinkled. “I bet they look fantastic on you.”

Her cheeks flared. “Accessories. You’re getting accessories.”

Five minutes later, his arms were loaded with socks, earrings, a scarf, and a glittery headband that Tina absolutely didn’t choose just to see how he’d react. He took it all in stride.

She rang up the total. “One fifty-six, ninety-seven.”

He counted out the bills and handed them over. “Oof. Hope Cindy appreciates this.”

“She’d better. That headband is elite.”

At the gate, she rolled it down behind him. For a moment, it felt weirdly final.

A beat passed. Then, six steps away, he turned.

“Hey,” he said casually, but his eyes were anything but.

“Yeah?”

“Want to do something tonight?”

Tina blinked. “What about Cindy? Don’t you have plans with her?”

“I do. Shouldn’t take more than five minutes.”

She snorted. “Is improving your stamina a New Year’s resolution?”

His laugh was deep and indulgent, echoing off the empty corridor. “Cindy’s my fifteen-year-old neighbor. I promised her I’d find her a Christmas Eve outfit for her TikTok dance video.”

“Oh.” Her face went hot. “Sorry, I just assumed.”

“Don’t worry. I like your fire.”

Tina hesitated. “So…what exactly did you have in mind?”

“Dinner at my place. I’ll cook. You pick the movie. Deal?”

The smart thing would be to say no. She didn’t know him. It was late.

This was real life, not a Hallmark movie. But then again…the look in his eyes wasn’t smooth or cocky anymore.

It was hopeful. Honest. And for the first time in a long time, her heart fluttered.

She smiled, just a little. “Deal.”