Page 34 of 12 Days of Mistletoe

I clamp down on my bottom lip—free of shiny gloss—and wish I could say, no, he is not. I wore that lip gloss for me. But what good would the lie do when Elliot and May are scheduled to be here any minute? “So?”

Another harumph. “Is One-thirty better at bingo than Scrabble?”

Bingo.I can talk bingo. The heat radiating from my body ceases, chilling out with the subject change. I walk to the closet across the room and bring back my large bingo tote. “Bingo is one hundred percent luck,” I tell Bill.

Opening the tub, I pull out the bingo boards, revealing my feather boa and captain’s hat. I wear both as the pirate bingo caller. There are plenty more boas, black bandanas, and first-mate hats for others to wear. About half the patrons like dressing up for the game, while the others just enjoy playing.

“It is not luck,” Bill says, reaching inside my tub and choosing a hat that matches my own. He places it on his white-haired head and crosses his arms. “There’s skill involved with any game.”

“Not bingo,” I say, winking at him. I can tease him right back.

But Bill won’t give up. “Yes, bingo.” He tosses the red boa my way. “Good thing your lips aren’t pink anymore. With pink lips and that boa, One-thirty might get the wrong idea.” He snickers.

I grind my teeth and gather up the bingo boards, all adorned in pirate pictures rather than numbers. “No one is getting the wrong idea. This is a business deal. Appear to be dating and Noel gets to stay in the building. That’s it.”

“That’s not it,” Bill says.

I am not normally the victim of Bill’s bluntness and strong opinions. I don’t like it. Besides, he’s got it all wrong. So, I felt like wearing lip gloss for once. Who cares?

My head swirls around the idea for a minute… Because it doesn’t like those pesky unanswered questions. Why did I feel like it? I clear my throat and spout, “I wore that dumb gloss so his grandma wouldn’t make me kiss him again. Okay? No one wants to kiss lip gloss, it’s sticky and messy and?—”

“Grandma?” Bill says, sitting a little straighter.

“Yes, she’s coming with him today. So, be nice.”

Bill reaches out a hand and caresses Noel’s back. “I’m always nice.”

I’m forming a lecture for Bill when I hear?—

“Shouldn’t the bingo be Christmas-themed?” May says. Her white hair is pulled into a side ponytail, one perfect ringlet hanging over her shoulder.

“I don’t know, Gran. You’ll have to ask Bonnie.”

“You said a grandma was coming with him,” Bill whispers to me, eyes on May. “You said nothing about the silver fox.”

“The silver what?”

My friend’s bushy brows knit right before he hushes me.

As if he were my parent and I an obedient six-year-old, I press my lips on top of one another. My stomach flips at the sight of Elliot next to May. The man is tall, but next to his little gran, he looks as if he could be the jolly green giant. Tall and broad and built, and he’s even in a green sweater. Jolly. Green. Giant. Yep—that’s a weird comparison. This whole faking-it gig is messing with my head.

“At least there are Christmas decorations up,” May says.

“Of course there are,” I say when I’m certain she’s in earshot. “Even pirates celebrate Christmas.”

“Do they?” Elliot says, a question in his tone but a smile in his eyes.

I press my lips together again, wishing there was a little gloss left to make the motion smoother. “Yes. They do.”

“Nice, uh, scarf,” he says, smiling at my red boa.

“That’s no scarf,” May tells him.

I clear my throat and drag my eyes to May. “Hi, Mrs. Elliot. It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s May. Just May.” She leans in, and I dip down so she can place a kiss on my cheek. She’s left a lipstick mark, Iknow it. “It’s lovely to see you too.” She flicks her gaze up to Elliot. “Well, aren’t you going to kiss your girl hello?”

“Uh—” Elliot swallows and blinks fourteen times too many.

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