Page 42 of The Mistletoe Makeover

“For me?” He wheels around. “Do you know what you’ve done?”

For once, I have nothing to say.

When I don’t answer, he continues, “Now we need to pretend that we’re dating.”

My thoughtless decision means we have to keep up the charade, at least for today.

“No one else knows,” I say. “Once we leave Evergreen, it’ll be a funny story between us. Just like the Pine Paradise Motel.”

Jace stares at me for a long second. “That wasn’t funny, either.”

Is he referring to our accidental cuddle session? If it’s that bad of a memory for him, then he must find me totally repulsive. “Then let’s just go home. I didn’t know I was that much of an embarrassment to you.”

I brush past him, shame burning inside my chest. He grabs my arm, not letting me go. “Mia, I didn’t mean that. You’re not an embarrassment to me. I would never feel that way.”

Even though I’m hurt, my heart feels like it’s galloping across my chest, like the beat of a hundred horses.

He shakes his head, then rubs the back of his neck. “We should at least get dinner before heading home.”

“Even if Ava shows up?”

“If she does, we’ll deal with it.” He looks over my shoulder, where Ava is heading off on her sleigh ride, then back at me, his lips curling. “When you told her we were dating, her face was priceless.”

“She seemed so smug about Benedict. Even his name sounds like a snooty Englishman.”

Jace bursts out laughing.

At least now we’re not feuding. We’re on the same team.

“We don’t have to go to the Belle Mansion,” I say. “I was totally making that up.”

“If she shows up and doesn’t see us there, she’ll know you weren’t telling the truth.” His eyes catch mine. “What if I take you on a date to the Belle Mansion... my treat?”

The way he’s looking at me, his lips in a lopsided smile, his dimple showing, there’s no way I can say no.

ELEVEN

Mia

The Belle Mansion is located on a hill outside of town, a towering stone Romanesque mansion I could never afford in my wildest dreams. As soon as we step inside, we’re transported into another time. A sweeping curved staircase, like something out of a fairy-tale castle, fills the lobby, while gleaming mahogany woodwork and golden sconces line the walls.

The hostess takes us into the ballroom, where golden candles flicker on tables and an impressive chandelier twinkles above, creating a magical circle of light.

She seats us at a cozy table close to the massive fireplace, where we can hear a violinist playing a soft tune. If I wasn’t determined to keep this dinner strictly professional, this would feel like a lavish date. Not only is the Belle Mansion the kind of place where you take someone to spoil them, the prices inside the menu are jaw-dropping.

When our server comes to take our drink order, Jace orders a hot tea while I ask for water.

I frown. “I didn’t know Nashville boys drank English Breakfast tea.”

“My grandmother’s fault.” He rubs his hands together like he’s still trying to warm up after our walk. “She was a proper Brit.”

“She was? But weren’t you born in the South?”

“Born and raised. But my English grandmother always tried to make sure I had some British influences. She’s the reason I started my musical training. She paid for my piano lessons.”

“You play piano?” I think back to the grand piano in his living room, the one I thought was just for show.

“I don’t tell many people. I learned classical piano first, and guitar came second. Sometimes I still play a few classical pieces.”

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