Page 63 of The Holiday Hate-Off
Enzo chuckles. “Surprising you didn’t meet your soulmate at Santa Speed Dating last weekend. Seemed like those five minutes should’ve led to something beautiful, huh?”
I turn in my seat to look at him more directly. “They probably would have if you hadn’t messed with the power.”
A satisfied smile spreads across his face, and I realize I gave him exactly what he wanted: my focus. “They call that an act of nature, Lucia. I’m not a god, believe it or not. You tell her, Hudson. Is it unusual for the power to cut out at this time of year?”
“It’s happened before,” he agrees politely. But he’s not without mischief, because he adds, “And sometimes it has remarkable timing.”
“You know,” Enzo says, his eyes on mine, “if your soulmate had been at that event, he wouldn’t have been scared off by alittle darkness. They’re a bunch of cowards if they ran because the lights went off. You deserve more than a coward.”
The server sets a glass of wine in front of me, startling me as my eyes had been glued to Enzo’s in a first-grade-level stare-off. I immediately take a sip.
Shit. It’s not great.
Hudson, on the other hand, makes an appreciative hum as he tries his wine.
“Should’ve ordered the malbec, huh?” Enzo taunts me with a laugh, and I shoot him a dirty look.
“This is the best wine I’ve ever tasted,” I lie, then pointedly turn toward my fake date, ready to escalate the war. “So, Hudson, I’m told you’re a firefighter. Do you do one of those shirtless calendars with the kittens and puppies?”
He laughs, and an adorableaw shuckslook passes over his face. “We do, actually. Except we pose with lobsters.”
Genuine laughter spurts from me. “Do you really?”
“Nope, but maybe I should run it by my boss.”
“Gosh, I would love to buy something like that,” I say, fluttering my lashes at him. “Firefighters are so sexy. I’ve always been drawn to burly men. Men of action, none of that corporate nonsense.”
Enzo coughs around his latest sip of the much more delicious wine he’s drinking. Good. Another point for me.
Hudson looks amused, probably because I forewarned him that I might be flirtatious to get Enzo’s goat.
“Were you at the parade last weekend?” he asks.
“I’m afraid I missed it,” I say. “I was helping my friend Charlie pick what she’s going to sell at the Christmas market. Was your fire truck part of it?”
“It was.”
“Did you take out your hose?” I ask, eyeing Enzo.
“Uh…no,” Hudson says with an incredulous look.
“What’s Charlie selling at the Christmas market, anyway?”Enzo asks me, acting as if he’s an important part of our conversation—an invited guest.
“Her pet portraits. Would you like her to make one of you? She’d give you an extra-pretty collar.”
He lets out an amused grunt. “I wouldn’t want to cause a bidding war.”
“Like you did at your knockoff bachelor auction?” I quip, my pulse racing. It’s like my body thinks it’s marching into battle, not verbally sparring with Enzo. I wave to the empty side of his table. “Impressive.”
He barks a laugh before turning toward Hudson. “Good luck, man. She’s a spark plug. Then again, you’re trained to put out fires.”
Oh no, he didn’t.
“Not everyone can be middle management,” I say tightly. “What is it you used to do, anyway?”
Enzo meets my gaze and holds it, his eyes dark and intense, a black hole threatening to suck me in. I focus on his nose, instead. There’s a slight bump in the middle, but somehow that makes him more attractive instead of less—a touch of character in what would have otherwise been a too-perfect face. My gaze drifts downward, taking in his mouth, surrounded by a sea of sexy dark stubble. His smiles widens, as if he can hear my thoughts, before he responds, “I’m glad you asked. I like to be in control.”
Heat flash-fries me before I school my features into an incredulous look. “Life must be a constant disappointment to you then.”
