Page 19 of Mistletoe, Mayhem & Mr. Grump
"But the coffee—" she gestures at the mess.
"Finn's got it," I say confidently.
"I absolutely do not—" Finn starts.
"Thanks, buddy." I grab Wren's hand again, pulling her toward the door. "We owe you one."
"You owe me several!" Finn calls after us.
We step out into the December cold, still holding hands because people might be watching. The town square stretches before us, full of potential witnesses to our very new, very fake relationship.
"We're terrible at this," Wren says quietly.
"We'll get better," I assure her.
"What if we don't?" she asks.
"Then we'll be terrible together," I say. "At least we'll be consistent."
She laughs, a surprised sound that makes something warm unfold in my chest. "Together," she agrees.
I look down at our joined hands, at the woman beside me who smells like cinnamon and chaos, at the town that's about to watch our every move for the next three weeks.
I'm definitely going to fall in love with her.
The contract specifically forbids it. Section 3, subsection 2a.
Damn it.
Chapter 5
Wren
Giuseppe's lunch rush consists of exactly three people: us, and Mr. Jackson, who's been nursing the same minestrone soup for forty minutes while reading a newspaper from last Tuesday. The fact that this constitutes a "rush" tells you everything about Snowfall Creek's dining scene.
"This is cozy," Holden says, looking around the empty restaurant with its Italian décor—red checkered tablecloths, wine bottles melted with candle wax, and at least seventeen pictures of the Leaning Tower of Pisa from different angles.
"Giuseppe prefers 'intimate,'" I correct, fidgeting with my menu even though I have it memorized. "He says crowds dilute the dining experience."
"That's one way to spin bankruptcy," Holden observes.
"Says the man fake dating someone to save her failing business," I point out.
"Touché."
Giuseppe appears from the kitchen like he's been summoned by the promise of gossip. His eyes light up when he sees us sitting together, and I can practically see him composing the group text he's about to send to everyone in town.
"Wren! And the handsome stranger! Together! At my restaurant!" He clasps his hands dramatically. "This is beautiful! Like a movie! A romance movie! Not one of those sad ones where someone dies. Unless—nobody's dying, right?"
"Not today, Giuseppe," I assure him.
"Excellent! Death is bad for business. And romance!" He beams at us. "What can I get for the new couple? Everything on the menu today is made with extra love!"
"Everything?" Holden asks skeptically.
"Everything! Even the breadsticks. Especially the breadsticks." Giuseppe winks. "Very romantic, breadsticks."
"We'll just have the lunch special," I say quickly before this gets worse.
