All I Want: All I Want, #1

By Renna Peak

For two years, Sidney Miller ran from life, working one menial job after another to keep herself so busy she would never have to think or feel—or remember the tragedies she’s faced. Her careful plans are abruptly changed when she meets Gavin at the temporary job she’s taken to keep herself busy through the holidays.

Gavin Rogers is only in San Francisco to help his brother’s struggling law firm. With no time—or desire—for relationships, his world is turned upside down when he finds something in his heart for a woman he’s sure he could never be interested in.

This is the first part of three-part series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Renna Peak
• Release date: Nov 4, 2014
• ISBN: 9781501453458

Book preview

1

Ihad to close my eyes for a second—the pain searing through my shin threatened to bring tears to them for the third time that afternoon. I opened my eyes and forced a smile, taking in a deep breath to repeat the same words I’d been broadcasting from the entrance all day. Have fun in Santaland. Merry Christmas. I reached into the container of candy canes and handed one to him.

He grabbed it from my hand before lifting his foot again to kick my other shin. Real elves have pointy ears!

Thankfully, his father scooped him up before he could inflict another bruise. The father muttered under his breath, his cheeks red with embarrassment. Sorry about that.

I didn’t even respond as the two walked through the entrance. Only fifty days until Christmas. I had begun repeating that line to myself every time I had to say the canned welcome message. It was going to be a long seven weeks, especially with the spoiled kids and the Christmas carols playing in the background. The holidays seemed to come earlier each year, and while Christmas had been my favorite time of the year as a child, I now dreaded it like almost nothing else.

If the latex in the fake elf ears hadn’t bothered my skin so much, I would have had my pointy ears on. That kid probably still would have found a reason to kick me in the shin, but at least I’d have my pointy ears. And it wasn’t as though my elf outfit wasn’t bad enough—the green felt dress would have been way too short without the red and white striped tights that I wore underneath. The department store I was working at seemed to think that dressing their elves in semi-slutty outfits would bring in more people. I can’t say they were wrong, though. Most of the kids who came through the doors were there with their fathers or some male relative, so if the goal was to get more men in the store, the initiative had to be called a success.

It wasn’t a terrible idea—and I certainly couldn’t blame the department store for coming up with it. I was just trying not to feel too sorry for myself for being stuck there. It wasn’t as though it was easy to get an extra job for the holidays, given my already tight schedule.

I adjusted the braids on my ugly, red yarn wig to cover up the fact that I wasn’t able to wear the ears. If the tops of my ears were covered, maybe no other kids would notice. I wasn’t really sure why I even cared about it that much—it didn’t cover up the neckline of the dress, and that made me a lot more uncomfortable than not being able to wear the ears. I pulled up at the V-neck of the dress without really thinking about it. I reached into the bucket and handed the next little boy his candy cane without much thought—just another in a never-ending line of children. Welcome to Santaland. Merry Christmas.

Do I know you?

I looked up into a pair of the most perfect blue eyes I had ever seen. My heart fluttered and my breath caught in my chest for a long moment. He didn’t know me—not really—but I had definitely seen those eyes before. I decided not to even acknowledge his question, completely ignoring him and focusing instead on the little girl and her mother who were standing behind him.

I pressed a candy cane into the little girl’s hand. Welcome to Christmas. Merry Santaland. Shit. It wasn’t like me to be flustered—particularly not around a guy like him.

The girl and her mother walked around the man and his little boy to go through the entrance.

He chuckled, clearly finding my frustration amusing. "We have met, haven’t we?"

I didn’t even look up to make eye contact again. I could tell he couldn’t place me—the red yarn hair and the pointy hat were fairly good camouflage, and it was a good thing. I thought I was doing a pretty good job suppressing the mental awareness of the flips that my stomach was doing with him this close to me. I hated that my body reacted to him at all, and this was definitely not the place to acknowledge it. Seeing him at a distance the past few months had been bad enough—having him this close to me was making my insides turn handsprings, and it was definitely not something that I could allow myself to feel.

Did we ever…? The waggling of his eyebrows told me exactly what it was he was suggesting.

I looked up into his eyes again. He might not have been able to place me, but we certainly hadn’t ever done that. I raised an eyebrow. No.

He looked down at my name tag. Ginger? I’m sure I’d remember a Ginger.

I glanced down at the name tag. Ginger B. Read. He had to know that my name wasn’t really Ginger Bread. He couldn’t place me, but that was only because pretty much every time he had seen me was when he had his tongue down the throat or his hand up the dress of another woman. Not that I cared. Not that I was paying any attention. And not that my discomfort had caused me to begin taking the stairs instead of the elevator in my apartment building.

He smiled. A perfect smile to match his perfect blue eyes and his perfect black hair. Men like him existed to torture women like me. If I wasn’t sure about anything else in life—I was sure of that. Ginger Bread. Cute. Do you work in the office?

I gave my head a slight shake, keeping my gaze averted from his. A pair of children cut around him and I handed them each a candy cane. I was careful with my words this time—there was no way I was going to let him know that he was affecting me. It was pretty awful of me to have let myself be affected by him at all.

Merry Christmas. Welcome to Santaland. Okay, I might not have said it in the right order, but at least the sentences weren’t garbled that time. The children and their mother walked through the entrance, around the man who refused to leave my side.

"Uncle Gavin, come on." The little boy was tugging at the man’s pants, trying to pull him through the doorway of the store.

He tilted his head and tried to meet my gaze. You’re sure we’ve never…?

I finally lifted my gaze to meet his, trying very hard to mask the fact that my insides were about to melt with him this close to me. If we had, you’d definitely remember.

He chuckled again. I’m sure I would. He ran a hand through his black locks. "But I do know you, right?"

I only lifted an eyebrow in response. There was no point in discussing this. I hadn’t even thought he had noticed me before—not that it made any difference. And it was shameful, anyway, that my body was reacting this way. Damned shameful.

"Uncle Gavin…" The little boy was whining now, pulling again on the man’s pant leg.

He took the little boy’s hand in his and smiled at me again. It was good to see you again, Ginger.

I nodded and turned my gaze to the next people in line, trying not to watch or let myself feel anything as he walked through the door with the little boy. My brain was fine—it was my stupid body that lit itself on fire every time he was anywhere near me. He hadn’t even said a word to me before that moment, but my body’s reaction … shameful.

Gavin. G. Rogers—17D. That was the name on the mailbox. Before that moment, I only knew him as the guy who lived down the hall from me in my apartment building—the guy who seemed to always have a new girl on his arm every time I saw him in the elevator or in the hallway. He had never even given me a second glance—not that I wanted him to. He had made eye contact a few times—the last time while he was making out with some blonde girl against the wall of the elevator—not that I cared. He could have his flavors of the week—I had more than enough to worry about on my own plate. It was just a little disturbing that he didn’t remember whether we had ever… No, it wasn’t disturbing. I wouldn’t let it be disturbing. He could worry and wonder about it, and I was pretty sure he still wouldn’t recognize me the next time our eyes met in the elevator.

Not that it mattered. Not that I would let it matter. And climbing seventeen flights of stairs to avoid seeing him was good for me, anyway—good for my health and it gave me an excuse to skip the gym.

It was after two and my replacement was late. The department store gig was only a temporary