Page 3 of Claimed and Catalogued
Chicken sweater like that, this girl is for sure a do-gooder. She’s got a look that says she bakes cookies at least once a week and knows every animal in town by name. Obviously, no one would say she’s a threat, but for a guy like me, she’s the most dangerous threat of all.
I should look away, but I can’t. Something holds me there.
Her friend nudges her and whispers something, but I’m too far away to hear, and suddenly, she’s walking toward me, hands clasped in front of her, lips pinched together, light greeneyes on mine as though she’s trying to be confident but doesn’t feel it inside.
“Hi.” She swallows hard and holds out her tiny hand in greeting. “I, ugh, noticed you, umm… in the crowd, and I… I’m Evie.”
I take her hand, careful not to squeeze too hard. Her palm is warm, and her fingertips are trembling. “Nick,” I say, my voice low. “I noticed you, too.”
“Oh!” she says, voice perking, our hands still locked together. “That’s great. Umm… cool.” She laughs awkwardly, then glances back at her friend, who’s pretending not to watch us from the other side of the street. “So, this is going to sound weird,” she smiles, “and I promise I’m not crazy. Well… maybe a little crazy, but not theweirdkind of crazy.” Another laugh follows. “I’m not crazy, honestly. Umm… sorry. I’m nervous for some reason. You’re… huge.” Her eyes widen, and her hand drops from mine. “Oh God.”
I bite back a smile, the kind I haven’t felt in a while. “You’re sounding a little crazy.”
“I’m not, though.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and adjusts her jacket. “And I meant tall. Tall and broad and… never mind.” She exhales slowly as though she’s trying to recompose her thoughts. “I work for the Chestnut Lane Bookstore just a street over there. It’s an institution here on the mountain. My friend Marley’s grandfather opened the place in 1963. Sadly, with all the economic stuff and people buying more online, the store is going under, so we’re trying to help our friend save the place. My big idea is to have a Santa auction to help raise money for bills until we think of a better plan. And you,” she drags her gaze down over me, “you’re perfect.”
I arch my brow as I stare toward the crazy-talking girl in front of me. This is the perfect cover. It’ll give me time to track the guy I’ve been searching for, lull him into a false sense ofsecurity, and grab him before he knows what hit him. “You want me to be Santa?”
“Not the jolly kind. The hot kind. It’s for a date.”
I nod slowly, watching her curls blow back in the wind.
I should say no. I’ll do a lot of things for a hunt, but a date is too far.
I don’t do dates.
Don’t remember how to date. Don’t want a date. Don’t much care for people, but there’s something about the way she stands so sweetly in front of me, the way her eyes round and her pink lips pout, and the way she rambles on and on that has me thinking I might say yes.
“It comes with free perks from a few local sponsors. The bakery here will give you free bear claws, and the diner’s donating free pie and coffee for a month.” Her eyes light, like the perks are making my day. “Oh, and the hardware store is offering a twenty-dollar gift card! Plus, you get bragging rights as one of the town’s hot Santas.”
I narrow my brows inward and cross my arms over my chest. “But I have to go on a date, right?”
“Yeah, but it’ll be fun. You get to know someone new, and who knows, maybe spark something real.”
“I don’t remember the last time I sparked.”
She stares toward me, eyes wide before she bites back a grin. “Okay… so you don’t have to spark. Just show up, smile, and open doors for her. It’ll be over in no time.”
“I’m sure you’ve got plenty of men signed up for this thing that want something out of it. I think I’d be in the way.”
“Trust me.” She grins and says, “Not to blow up your ego or anything, but a Santa like you would drive up bidding and get tons of women in the door. The other guys we have are,” she glances to the side and back again, “they’re nice guys.”
“Nice guys are good. Women like nice guys.”
“Yeah…” She glances around me again as she says, “They also like the big, brooding, bad-boy type, and you kinda fit that fantasy.”
“You think I’m a bad-boy? You don’t know me. I could be the nicest guy you’ve ever met.”
She twists around a little, and I like watching her squirm.
“No, I didn’t say that. I’m sure you’re a great guy. It’s just… you’re also… a little dangerous looking. Like a lone wolf or a drifter. You look like the kind of guy who’s great with emergencies but wouldn’t do well at brunch with your parents.”
I tilt my head to the side.It’s pretty accurate.“When is this auction thing?”
“Tomorrow night at seven. You don’t need a costume. I have one.” She glances me over again. “I’ll see if I can get it resized a little before tomorrow.”
I’m going to regret this.
“Okay,” I finally say. “I’ll do it.”
