Page 19 of Secret Santas and Holiday Dances

Jessie stepped forward and grabbed Charlotte’s arm. “That’d be me, Aunt Lotte. Alex and I are going, and so are Caroline and Charlie. You can ride with us.”

Liam glanced down at his watch. “I better get going, too. I told George I’d get to Emma’s early to help them set up.” He stepped toward Grace and offered her his elbow. “Walk you out?”

Grace buttoned her coat and took his arm. “Okay.”

Outside, they walked up Main in silence, and Grace could feel the tension crackling between them. She hated it. Hated feeling like this around him.

At the point where he would normally cross the street to go to where he parked his car, and she would turn left down the alley between Harold’s Market and Life on Canvas, he faced her. “Spence?” His blue-gray eyes appeared grayer now than blue.

She swallowed hard and nodded.

“I’ve never heard you mention a Spence before.”

Well, there was no hope for it now. She’d have to tell the truth about Spence. She couldn’t dig herself any deeper. “We dated in college. He called me out of the blue last night.”

Liam cleared his throat and fisted a hand at his side. “I have to say, I’m with your mom on this one.”

Grace stared at her feet. Of course he was.

He reached forward and gently took her chin in his hand, lifting her face so he could meet her gaze. “Ditch the ex, Montgomery. Come to Emma Lee’s party.”

Cold tingles ran down her spine. “Why?”

Liam dropped his hand, his gaze still holding hers intently, but said nothing.

That’s what she thought. “See you later, Liam.” She smiled at him. “Have fun tonight—you deserve it.”

She turned from him and sprinted down the alley to her car in the back lot.

Chapter 10

Liam hated Spencer. Spence. Hated him like he’d never hated another human being before in his life. Which was crazy because he didn’t even know the man. But the moment Grace had said she was going to see him and that he was her ex-boyfriend, the emotion had taken root and was now visceral. He was heading up the Bradford’s driveway now, so he needed to calm down. But Grace lived there, and just knowing her place was so close irked him.

Okay, fine, he was upset with her as well. She’d promised him, as a friend, she’d go. Then one invite from an ex and she was ditching him. Ditching him after he’d spent the last week keeping her mother entertained so she could run all over town, dropping off her Secret Santa gifts. He knew he had no right to be mad; it wasn’t like she’d asked him to help her. But he had asked her to go to this dance with him, she’d said she would, and then she’d backed out.

Glancing out his truck’s window toward the Bradford’s barn, he looked for Grace’s Bug. The rusty old vehicle was nowhere to be seen, and all the lights were off in her loft apartment above the barn. He parked down the gravel drive from the stately manor house, leaving closer spots for other people, and hopped out of his truck. He stopped to stare at her loft, then shook his head. No point worrying about it now. She’d made her choice, and it wasn’t him.

There was a chill in the air, and he hadn’t bothered wearing a coat over his suit, so he made a dash for the door. As expected, they’d left it open for guests who would start arriving in the next thirty minutes.

He stepped inside and wiped his wet feet on the mat, then glanced around the large foyer with double staircases leading to the second floor. They’d had the marble floors polished to a shine. He glanced at his reflection in it, surprised by the hard set of his jaw, and the crease of anger around his eyes. He took a deep breath and pulled himself together. The last time he’d looked like that had been in Philadelphia, which had been a big part of the reason he’d moved home.

Now to get to work. “George?”

He headed to the left and toward the ballroom, from where voices and the shuffling of feet echoed. The large glass doors leading to the room in question stood open, and a host of servers ran around setting up a buffet table and china on multiple round tables on the outside of the large dance floor. Emma Lee strode across the room in a gold gown. She’d pulled her flaxen hair back, and her skin glowed with a healthy tan. Liam’s brother, George, followed her, an angry scowl on his face.

Emma had been putting that scowl on George’s face for years. Their families were long-time friends, and for years, their parents had even thought, or hoped, that Liam and Emma would end up together. Aside from the fact that Liam was closer in age to Emma’s twenty-six years than George, he didn’t have a clue why their families would want Emma and Liam together—they were so different. For one, Liam hoped to settle down one day, and Emma was a self-proclaimed bachelorette with no desire to marry. Two, Liam wanted a simple life. Emma wanted more. He could go on.

Their families had given up their matchmaking attempts when Liam had accepted his position in Philadelphia. All for the better, especially because Liam was pretty sure his brother was in love with the gal.

“You can’t meddle in people’s lives like this, Emma,” George said.

Emma stopped at a table and straightened the silverware there. “It’s not meddling. It was just a friendly push in the right direction.”

George grabbed her arm and turned her to face him. “And what makes you think that either of them wants to be pushed?”

She shrugged a delicate shoulder. “A hunch.”

“You’re infuriating,” George growled, and the air between him and Emma made a palpable shift.

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