Wrapped with a Beau, page 16
His neck gets hot. “Quit it. You’re encouraging the ogling.”
“Hmm.” She brings one hand to her forehead, shading her eyes and scanning their surroundings. “Nope. Don’t see any ogling going on here. You’re not as interesting as you think.”
Ves tuts. “There you go, lying again. You think I’m fascinating.”
She throws her head back and laughs but doesn’t deny it. At the hollow of her throat, her tiny cursive E sparkles. “You beat Bentley and helped us win trivia once, and now you’re so full of it. By the way, you do realize Riley wasn’t kidding, right? If you aren’t with us next trivia night, he will show up at your house.”
A vision of the blond team captain trying to drag Ves out the door floods his mind. Maybe the whole team will crowd his doorstep, Elisha cackling in the background as he’s swept to the pub. He mentally swipes away the image. “But your team is full.”
“Well, as it turns out, Adhira would rather spend her Friday nights with her husband, Sam, and their daughter, so . . . looks like we have an opening. I mean, it’s up to you. It’s just twice a month, and obviously, we’ll be on the lookout for someone to join us in the new year, but until then, we could spend some—I mean, you could have some fun. Get out of the house before you get old and creaky.”
A commitment of just a couple more game nights? He can do that, can’t he?
Her eyes take on an evil glint. “Unless it would cut into your reading time,” she says sweetly.
Thank god she doesn’t know he’d been more focused on her than the words in front of him that night. Ves clears his throat, relieved, and mentally congratulates himself for having the wherewithal to play it so cool. “I’ll think about it,” he says.
“Awesome,” she says brightly. Then, “You know, I wasn’t expecting you to join in the fun at the party last night. Not that I’m complaining—watching you win was pretty hot.”
“Pretty hot?” he echoes.
“Scorching.”
His mouth forms around the word, barely stopping himself in time.
As though she hasn’t just sent all the blood rushing straight to his cock, she asks, “Can you wait here just a second? I need to run in really quick.” She squeezes his arm like it’ll anchor him in place and slips inside the toy shop. She doesn’t seem to realize he’d do whatever she wanted right then, just because she was the one to ask.
Through the glass he sees her pick up the bear she’d been admiring, take it to the register, and hand over a credit card. It’s only a couple of minutes before she’s back, toting the bear in a sparkly red gift bag stuffed with silver snowflake tissue and gently swinging it while they start to walk.
“Thanks for waiting. Want to grab lunch? I did promise to treat you one day.”
He is pretty hungry. “Yeah, okay,” he agrees. “Did you buy a companion for your bear?”
“Oh, no. It’s for the Chocolate Mouse’s toy drive. We have this big Giving Tree and on Christmas Eve my parents throw another party for the whole town and any of the kids can take a toy. There’s usually a lot of swaps, and a ton of wrapping paper strewn everywhere later,” she says with a tiny wince, “but that’s part of the fun. Everyone deserves a present.”
Ves typically writes a check to the children’s hospital and area food banks back home, but it feels so impersonal compared to what they do here. When he’s back in the city, he resolves to donate his time, too. Maybe become a Big Brother or offer a scholarship to someone who wants to study English in college.
“That’s really nice, Elisha. I’d love to contribute.” Belatedly, he realizes it’s come out as a statement and not a question, and he rapidly worries he overstepped. “I mean, if that’s okay,” he tacks on.
“Of course it’s okay! It’s more than okay!” Her eyebrow is doing something weird, like she’s puzzling out why he thinks it wouldn’t be? “Just something to keep in mind, most of the kids are under twelve, but honestly, anything is appreciated. And don’t wrap it beforehand! We do it at the store. Oh, here’s my car.”
She stops at a red Chevrolet, an old model that’s clearly been well maintained, squished between two fancier cars on the slushy street. “Want to just drop your stuff in the trunk before we head to lunch? I can drive you home after.”
Home. The word makes him feel a little funny. “Sure.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ves
Elisha takes him to a cute little hole-in-the-wall bistro, the kind that wouldn’t stay secret for long in the city. Concrete floors, iron barstool seating, and huge Edison bulbs dangling from the exposed rafters. The server, wearing both a rainbow and a trans flag pin, leads them past a wall plastered with flyers advertising local bands and karaoke nights, seating them right at the window.
“So, running into you was a happy coincidence, but I did have an ulterior motive in asking you to lunch,” says Elisha. She waits a beat until he nods at her to continue.
“Well, okay,” she says with a shaky exhale. “I . . . I like you, Ves. And part of me still isn’t sure why, because we’re nothing alike and you aren’t my usual type, but I do. I hate tidying up and yet, when I’m helping you, it doesn’t feel like work. Or it does, but not in the way that makes me want to avoid or hate every second of it. And I have to think it’s because I’m spending that time with you. So—and hear me out here, okay?—I was thinking that . . . maybe I wouldn’t mind spending even more time with you.”
Now she’s looking at him with those big brown eyes, silently willing him to say something. To have an opinion. Seeing that anticipation on her face makes his throat dry and his mind go as blank as a new Word doc. The pressure builds and builds until something in her eyes dims a bit.
No, absolutely not. He cannot have that. Not because of him. Anyway, disappointing the sunshiniest girl in Piney Peaks would probably get him run out of town with pitchforks and flaming torches.
“How is that different from what we’re doing now?” asks Ves. He can’t look at her face, so he focuses on removing his gloves, plucking one finger loose at a time before sliding the whole thing off.
“Look, people are already speculating about us. They have been since you stepped in oh-so-gallantly with Bentley, and I know the way we were at the party last night didn’t exactly shut down the rumors. Speaking of . . . say hi to Marcy.”
Elisha waves at the parka-clad figure stopped on the sidewalk to peer through the bistro window at them. To Ves’s horror, Marcy seems to take that as an invitation to join them, because she starts toward the door before frowning and shaking her head. She taps her watch as if to say Can’t, sorry, there’s somewhere I need to be, and continues on her way.
At the aghast look on his face, Elisha’s lips twitch like she’s trying not to smile.
“So you just want to pretend to date?” Ves asks, wondering if he should be intrigued or offended.
“God, no. It’s not about what anyone thinks of us. It just occurred to me last night that you and I are going to act on our attraction for each other sooner or later, and before that happens, maybe we should have the conversation about where this is going. So what I mean is: let’s actually date, but with a deadline.”
He’s catching on. “So it ends on our terms without either of us getting upset.”
“Exactly. To be perfectly candid, I know you’re leaving town in a few weeks, and we aren’t looking for the same things in the long term, so I’m not expecting our relationship to, like, turn into anything?” She ducks her head, looks at the paper menu like she’s actually reading the specials and doesn’t already know her order by heart. There’s a little tap-tap-tap below the table, like her boot is working overtime. “We’re already spending so much time together, and since we clearly have chemistry, it wouldn’t be such a leap to have a little holiday romance, or even just holiday sex, if you’re game. Just casual, no strings attached.”
Ves’s throat has gone from Saharan dry to feeling as if someone’s shredded his vocal cords into Christmas confetti. He’s never been propositioned like this before, all pragmatic and transparent. And definitely not in public, in broad daylight—well, broad cloudiness. Shit. Where’s the server with the water?
When they show up with ice cold glasses of water, Ves croaks out, “Scotch, please. Make it a double.”
“The second least expensive one,” says Elisha. “Sorry, but you’d be better off buying a bottle from the store. Don’t you know how much hard liquor costs at restaurants?”
He laughs weakly, gulping down water that does absolutely nothing for his stampeding heartbeat. “Yeah, I have some idea. Look, it’s not that I’m not, uh, flattered, but I’m not so sure this is a good—”
That seems to amuse her. “I’m not proposing marriage, Ves. I just don’t want to be alone over the holidays and I’m guessing that you don’t love it, either.”
No, I don’t, he thinks. And then immediately checks himself—where has that thought come from?
The server returns with his drink and asks if they’re ready to order.
“I’ll have the roasted chestnut soup with sourdough bread, not the whole wheat. And the grilled salmon with fig glaze,” Elisha rattles off.
“Same,” says Ves, relieved he doesn’t have to make a new decision while he’s still working through the old one. He takes a bracing sip of his scotch before he braves eye contact with Elisha. “Can I think about it?”
She tilts her head and regards him in a way that makes him suspect he’s just behaved in a way she finds entirely predictable. “Sure,” she agrees. “Just not too long. We don’t have forever.”
Luckily Elisha has the gift of gab and steers the conversation to small talk, which Ves usually detests but is now thankful for. The soup arrives, sweet and nutty, and the fish is delicate and flaky, grilled to perfection. He bites back the impulse to tell her that her lunch choice is excellent, because it may lead them both down the road of wondering what else she’s right about.
If he isn’t careful, he’s actually going to agree to date her just to get rid of this restless, agitated vortex of energy. Which he’s not going to do, obviously. And to drive it home, he stabs harder at his fish.
This should be an easy yes, so why is he hesitating? He dates girls, treats them well, enjoys their company—and that’s it. He doesn’t date exclusively and he’s always up front about that. The second someone doesn’t take him seriously about keeping it casual and their toothbrush magically appears next to his on the bathroom sink, he knows it’s time to bail out.
He doesn’t wonder what they’re doing when they’re not with him, doesn’t see something cool or funny or gross and immediately want to share it with them. It sounds bad, but once they’re out of his vicinity, he doesn’t think about them much at all. Getting emotionally involved has never worked out for him.
So what Elisha’s offering is, well, perfect. There’s no real reason to hesitate, and yet he can’t shake the feeling it’s his heart making the choice for him rather than his head.
They’re midway through their post-lunch coffee when Ves feels Elisha’s foot slide against his. “You hadn’t been to the Chocolate Mouse before yesterday, had you?” she asks, not moving her leg. She isn’t doing anything, just silently reminding him that she’s there, waiting for his decision.
His pulse trips. “No, I . . .”
The truth is, he’d been avoiding it. He can’t put his finger on why, though. It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it every time he’s on Main Street.
The emporium is enchanting and welcoming, buttery-golden light spilling through the windowpanes and the wafting scent of cinnamon and sugar. No one is immune to its charm; even locals who must pass the store regularly pause in front of the gold-and-red spiral columns on either side of the front door, hesitating only seconds before ducking in. And now having been inside, he can understand the impulse. It’s the kind of place you never want to leave, and if you do, you want to return as soon as possible.
Elisha’s waiting for a response. How long has he been lost in thought? He clears his throat. “I just hadn’t gotten around to it, I guess.”
Maybe out of some long-buried self-preservation instinct? If he had to put it into words, he’d liken it to eyeing the biggest, most exciting-looking box under the tree, but already knowing that what was underneath all the ribbon and sparkle was never meant for him.
She wraps her hands around her cup like she’s seeking heat, even though it can’t possibly be warm anymore. “Another thing you needed time to think about, I guess.”
It’s the knowing way she says it that gets under Ves’s skin. As though she has him all figured out, cobbling together an idea of him based on, what, exactly? His responses to shit that has always been out of his control? But he doesn’t want her to know she’s hit a nerve, so he finishes his coffee in one gulp. Lukewarm, just as he thought.
“Some of us do think twice before leaping into situations,” he says icily.
Her laugh sputters out, stunned and maybe a little hurt. “Right. Yeah, okay.”
Three little words. Three little words—the equivalent of one of those jagged ice spikes dangling from a roof. Three perfect stabs straight into his heart. Why the fuck was he just so mean to her?
“Sorry,” he mutters, trying to look at her so she knows he means it. Instead, she’s staring steadfastly out the window, a purse to her lips he’s never seen before. Another stab. He put that expression there. “I don’t like people making assumptions about me.”
“I get that,” she says softly. She turns her head about thirty degrees as though she’s still deciding whether he’s forgiven or not. “I guess that, um, even though I expected you wouldn’t say yes right away, I still . . . well, I wanted you to. Didn’t realize how much until just now. After we kissed, I thought . . .” She looks embarrassed. When he’s about to apologize again, she faces him head-on like she did before. “But you’ve got one thing wrong, Ves.”
He’s so relieved at being forgiven that he doesn’t even care. “What’s that?”
She does a fluttery motion with her hands that seems intended to convey something. “You think that I’m rushing into things, don’t you? Like when we first met and I got the wrong end of the stick—erm, wrong end of the candy cane. And our kiss was pretty impulsive, too, I’ll grant you, but I know what, and who, I want. The truth is, I was attracted to you the first moment I saw you.”
“You mean when I had my back to you and you had a weapon raised?”
She stomps on his foot, enough to show her annoyance but not enough to hurt. “Maybe not the very first moment. But the first time I saw your face, yes.”
Then, deviously, as though she can’t let the compliment stand without evening it out, she adds, “That was before I got to know your personality, obviously.”
And then she gives him the most spectacular smile.
He groans and whisks the napkin off his lap. “Just get the damn bill.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ves
Ten minutes later, Elisha’s frozen fingers work the key inside the padlock on a gate while Ves looks on, a half frown of concern on his face. It sets in deeper as she leads him up the dirt road to a barn that’s peeling strips of white paint on the outside but will be warm and cozy with hay inside.
“Thanks for agreeing to a quick stop before we head home,” she says over her shoulder. “Damian’s assistant wanted some pics of the stables. Won’t take longer than a few minutes.”
“Working on a weekend? You really love your job.” He huddles behind her while she opens the barn door, wondering if she feels the warm puff of his breath on her neck. He fights the impulse to drop a kiss on her nape, skim his lips all the way up to her ear, suck on the flutter of her pulse. “Are you sure we’re allowed to be here?” he asks instead, fisting his hands against his thighs to keep from reaching for her.
She half turns, close enough that her lips could kiss the slant of his jaw. “My friend Kat Kwon’s family owns the stables and I have a standing okay to visit whenever. You met her at trivia night; she manages the stables while her parents spend the winter in Florida. We used to sneak in all the time when we were younger.”
“Breaking and entering even at such a tender age?” he murmurs.
She doesn’t move away, even though the door is open. “We weren’t all such Boy Scouts.”
Ves can’t help but tease. “Problems with authority and character-building team activities?”
Her answering grin is pure menace. “What can I say, extracurriculars cut into my TV time.”
“Why did I have a feeling you’d say that?” Ves mutters, complaining to the dreary gray sky above.
There’s an unexpected note in her voice that tugs at him when she leans in to whisper in a breathy caress against his cheek, “Don’t think you have me totally figured out.”
But he’d like to.
Before Ves can reply with a zinger of his own, Elisha takes him by surprise. Her soft, cool lips graze the corner of his mouth, just enough to be a barely-there kiss. That side of his face tickles, nostrils flaring as he takes in her sensual scent—sweet mint, woodsy chestnut, and cozy vanilla. He leans into it, goosebumps peppering over his suddenly flushed skin. His pants tighten as his stomach swirls with dizzying pleasure, and Ves has to close his eyes and set his jaw to keep from embarrassing himself with a groan.
“The day you become predictable, Elisha Rowe, would be a very sad day, indeed.” He barely recognizes his own voice, all low and hoarse and wolfish like that.
