Page 52 of Yuletide Acres

“Depends on the rocker,” I counter with a giggle. The truth is, I much prefer Dylan this way, but I enjoy ribbing him far too much to admit that fact.

A wolf whistle sounds out across the room, and I look up to catch Troy crossing the floor, a look of awe on his face. “Ms. Mills, you are a sight to behold. Hello, gorgeous.” He leans in, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

“Thank you, Troy. Talk about overdressed.”

“In more ways than one,” Troy replies with a wink. The man has never been that brazen before. Flirtatious, yes. But this is next level.

I hear a growl behind me. Apparently his double entendre isn’t lost on Dylan. “Watch it,” he hisses, just loud enough for me to hear. I don’t need to turn around to know that Dylan is scorching Troy with his dark glare, warning him to back off.

“What?” Troy asks, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m simply admiring the most beautiful woman in the room. I’ve also noticed that she isn’t dancing and any woman wearing a dress like that needs to show it off.”

He extends his hand to me, but Dylan latches onto my digits, sending Troy yet another scowl. “She has a dance partner already.”

I offer Troy a sympathetic smile as Dylan leads me to the dance floor. But when his arms wrap around me, pulling me flush against him, I forget anything beyond him. Beyond this moment.

“Nobody dances with my girl but me,” Dylan murmurs, resting his forehead against mine.

That’s the issue. I want to be his girl, but not if that job description only means warming his bed and not earning a permanent slot in his life. I won’t be someone’s sex buddy. Not even Dylan’s.

“Who says I’m your girl?”

“I do. Don’t you want to be my girl?”

“One of many?” I know I’m pushing, but if he hopes to get lucky, he’d better cough up some answers.

Dylan’s face registers surprise at my bold question. “Poppy, you know how I feel.”

“I’m hearing conflicting stories.”

“Don’t listen to anyone’s stories but mine.”

“Ah, but they are your stories.”

Now his brow wrinkles in confusion. “Sunshine, let’s stop speaking in riddles, shall we? What do you want to know?”

The song ends to a smattering of applause, and Dylan is once again surrounded by local townspeople. I swear, he’s his own personal brand of rock star.

Dylan holds up a finger to one of the men who’s bending his ear. He leans down to me, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “This conversation is not over, just paused while I deal with a few…emergencies.”

I nod, oddly relieved that they broke the moment. Part of me doesn’t want to hear his answer, because then, it will be real. All hope lost.

I like hope. I prefer keeping it alive as long as possible.

“No worries, Mr. Mayor. I’m walking down to the store. Paddington will need to go out.”

“I can walk you down there.”

“I’ll be fine. You deal with all of this.” I motion around the room, several pairs of eyes intent on his handsome visage. “You’re a popular guy.”

“Yeah, I don’t know about that,” Dylan laughs. “Give me a little while and I’ll walk with you.”

“I’ve got it. Promise,” I reiterate. The truth is that I need the air, and some space from Dylan.

I have to figure out my next move, and whether Dylan and I should even continue playing this game. If his heart isn’t in it to win it, then my heart will surely be the loser.

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