Page 73 of My Favorite Holidate

“He’s a smart guy,” I say, trying not to read too much into it. Wilder’s good at everything, plain and simple. He’s amazing at gifting. This present isn’t really about me anyway. Besides, I felt bad enough fibbing to my sister. Idon’t want to feel worse lying to my good friends too, like Elodie and Rachel.

“Anyway, how’s the store been going for the last week? I know this is the busy time.” I turn the focus on her. That’s second nature to me, anyway. It’s so much easier to focus on other people. Then I don’t need to crack open my heart or my feelings. Pesky things.

Rachel catches me up to speed on her jewelry shop, which is busy, busy, busy for the holiday season, and that makes me very happy. I tell her more about how things are going as the team designer, how creative the students were at my jewelry-making class last night, and when I finish with the bling-y shirts for the new year, she says, “I always knew you’d do big things. And you’re still working on opening your own shop someday?”

It feels so far off, but I suppose that’s how dreams are. “Someday. I have no idea when. I’ve been working on new designs for it at night.”

“I love that. You’d better let me carry some even when you compete with me,” she says, and she’s teasing. We both know that a rising tide can lift all ships.

Carter strides in next to her, wrapping an arm around Rachel but meeting my gaze. “Good to see you here, Fable.”

That’s a reminder that I’m not usually here. That I won’t be here next year. Wilder and I will split up in late December or early January…and that’s a sour thought. One I don’t want to linger on. “You might be seeing a lot of me tonight. This is not my scene, so I plan on following the two of you around like a puppy. Cool? Cool.”

Carter laughs. “Whatever you need.”

Rachel smiles. “You can hang with us, but…” Her eyes latch on something behind me, then she leans in, whispering, “Someone is coming for you.”

Is the heat turned up in the room? I can’t even make out the click of Wilder’s wingtips amongst all these other expensive shoes and tailored suits, but from Rachel’s words, I can feel his presence. He’s coming closer, then goosebumps rise on my bare arms when he moves next to me.

“There you are, little elf,” he says, meeting my gaze. He drops a kiss to my cheek. It feels too good, I have to work to regain my bearings.

“Hi,” I say, and it comes out soft and maybe a little seductive. Was that intentional? Perhaps it was.

“Sorry I couldn’t pick you up,” he says, apologetic. “I wanted to though.”

“I understand,” I say. “Was Mac happy to see her mom?”

“Very much so. And Felicity was excited too. It was nice.”

I love that he gets along with his ex. That they co-parent so well. I’ve never heard a bad word about Felicity from him, and it’s refreshing.

Wilder turns to Carter and Rachel. “Good evening, Carter. Rachel, you look lovely. What do you two have planned for the holidays? Well, besides destroying the competition in the final games on the schedule.”

“That’s always at the top of my list, Mr. Blaine,” Carter says, and we chat about football for a few minutes until they excuse themselves to mingle.

Wilder turns to me, and he’s a little more relaxed than the Wilder of this afternoon when we delivered the gifts. He probably had a lot on his mind then, with him delivering the Christmas bonuses and shutting down the mainoffice for the rest of the year. Now he seems like the man who kissed my cheek in the hallway and whispered that hecan’t wait. His green eyes are fiery as they travel up and down me. “I’d like to say I knew the dress would look this beautiful on you, but you have continued to stun me. The dress doesn’t make the woman. The woman makes the dress,” he says.

The thermostat shoots through the roof from the weight and heft of his compliment. It makes me feel heady, unlike any I’ve had before. “Thank you.” It hardly feels like that’s enough.

“But my favorite part?” he adds.

I’m giddy as I echo him eagerly with, “What’s your favorite part?”

“Your necklace,” he says, and a burst of pride swirls through me since I made it. I lift a hand to the snowflake, touching the smooth surface. “I picked it…for you.”

He gives me a look that burns through me, sending sparks of flames licking higher in me. Casually, like this is a familiar gesture with us, he lifts his hand and runs his fingers across my pendant. He barely brushes my skin, and still, my knees go a little weak, my head a little fuzzy.

“So you understand the choice I made earlier today.”

My mind snags, but then I connect the dots. He meant it when he said he wanted to look nice for me earlier, just like I wore a necklace for him tonight. “I do,” I say, a little breathy, then it’s my turn to compliment him, and it’s easy because the man is the definition of sexy elegance in the tailored charcoal suit, white dress shirt, and…I gasp when he tugs up the sleeves of his jacket just far enough for me to see the Santa cufflinks. I reach for them on the cuffs of his crisp shirt, fingering the metal. “You got them. I didn’t think you would wear them tonight.”

“Of course I would,” he says, like it was a fait accompli. “They’re Made By Fable.”

That’s the name I engraved on the inside of the cufflinks that I made this week for him. I…glow. “Yes.”

His lips quirk up in the most amused grin. “I saved the Santa for tonight.”

“You really did,” I say, still not quite believing he’s wearing something I made to a team party.

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