Page 25 of Wrapped with a Beau

“Ellie, I thought I saw you duck in here earlier,” comes a voice, friendly but chiding.

Chapter Twelve

Ves

Ves looks up from his plate to see a good-looking guy around his age enter, brushing snow off his hair. It’s the same guy Elisha thought she was doing a good job avoiding, the reason she was so obviously hustling him in the opposite direction. He knows she recognizes the voice when she closes her eyes, mouths what looks like for fuck’s sake, and sets her fork down with an exaggerated finality.

“Hi, Bentley,” she says grudgingly.

Ves’s lips twitch. Her greeting has all the enthusiasm of Oh, look, a blistering boil on my bum.

The man shakes his head when the hostess approaches. “Didn’t you see me wave at you earlier?”

“Sorry, must have missed it.”

Elisha still hasn’t turned around, so only Ves sees her cheeks flare with telltale pink. Her eyes beseech his for... what, exactly? He doesn’t know what to read into that look. He doesn’t know her well, but he knows her enough that she wouldn’t be rude on purpose unless there was a good reason.

Both men take each other in. Ves knows his resting dick face—impressively impassive, according to Arun—will betray nothing. Bentley’s the first to break the silent standoff with an easy grin. “Hey, man. Good to meet you in the flesh. Kinda thought Ellie made it up.”

Flesh is a word that gives Ves the heebie-jeebies. It’s repugnant, right up there next to moist and phlegm and yolk. And made what up? Him? Not for the first time, he’s taken aback at how everyone seems to know him. It’s true what they say about news traveling fast in a small town.

“Same,” he replies coolly. He knows his hand is clean, but he wipes it on his napkin before shaking, anyway. He half rises to take Bentley’s offered hand.

The grip is extra firm, as if trying to size Ves up. Then, flippantly, he proclaims, “Bentley. The ex.”

Ves almost sneers. As though that’s a title to be proud of.

So this is the guy who just swanned back into town with a wife and an undented ego. Ves flicks questioning eyes to her, but instead of responding with a discreet nod, there’s a nervous tension on her face that looks all kinds of wrong. And Bentley is the one who put it there. Her eyebrows have drawn together to form an “11” wrinkle and her lips resemble a flatline.

He doesn’t need to know anything else about Elisha’s ex to already dislike him. The man oozes a certain smugness, like his running into them here isn’t exactly what he wanted in the first place. What’s with the pouncing like he’s caught them in the act? Does he want her back?

Annoyed, Ves squeezes back harder.

Elisha’s eyes find Ves’s. He maps her face, the taut jut of her jaw, the urgency in her eyes. In a tight voice, she says, “We should probably be going, I only had an hour for lunch.”

Is he imagining the tremor in her voice? And more importantly, why does Ves care?

“Ves is the new owner of the Christmas House,” Danica explains to Bentley, but with absolutely none of the warmth she had shown to Ves.

“That makes sense,” says Bentley. “Is that how you and Ellie met? How long have you two been...?”

Ves wonders if that’s her nickname. She doesn’t look like an Ellie. It’s certainly not how she introduced herself to him, and he hasn’t heard anyone else use it, but maybe it’s reserved for people she shares history with. Unlike him, who’s gone by “Ves” ever since grade school—only Arun calls him by his full name, and even then, only when he’s annoyed.

Belatedly, he understands what Bentley’s driving at in asking how they met. Isn’t that the first question people always ask couples? A slow smile spreads over his face as it clicks: Bentley thinks they’re together.

“It feels like we’ve known each other forever,” he says, reaching for the tab before she can. She makes a bitten-off sound of protest, but he scribbles a generous tip and slides his credit card in almost defiantly. And then, in a voice imbued with as much adoration as possible, “I’ll get your jacket, love.”

He’s never been a pet name person, but damn if it doesn’t feel good to have someone to give one to, even if it’s fake.

Elisha’s expressive face flickers with shock, eyebrows comically shooting toward her hairline. Love? she mouths to Solana, followed by What are you playing at? to Ves.

He doesn’t give himself a chance to second-guess the surge of protectiveness as he calmly unhooks their jackets from the peg. He hopes Bentley has seen his coat on top of hers.

Ves shrugs into his, then holds hers out in a subtle way that implies he intends to help her put it on. With a bewildered expression, Elisha lets him. Her face is a cocktail of curiosity, disbelief, and... gratitude?

“Thanks,” she murmurs, not stepping out of his bubble.

“Nice to meet you all,” Ves says to the table once his card is back in his wallet. The oldies are all watching with hungry expressions. “I’m sure we’ll be running into each other again soon. Nice meeting you, Ben.” He senses he has allies in the Pereiras when both mother and daughter give him broad grins.

---