Page 27 of Wrapped with a Beau

His boots slosh through a puddle with an ugly squelch. Ves grits his teeth. The suede is so going to be ruined by the time he’s back at Maeve’s. “Is that why he assumed you made me up?”

“Oh, um. Well. Don’t freak out. I may have implied that I had a boyfriend, and he may have assumed it was you because of the whole Christmas House thing. Don’t give me that look. I know I’m two for two when it comes to lying to my ex, but in my defense, I really wanted him to think I was doing well.”

“Because you’re still pining over him?” He doesn’t want to examine too closely why the idea bugs him.

Elisha scoffs. Judging by that eloquent response, Ves guesses she isn’t.

“No, I just didn’t want to be the sucky Oreo,” she says.

He spots the scarlet winterberry trees lining the path to the Chamber of Commerce building. They’re getting closer to her office and Ves doesn’t want their conversation to end. “Oreo? You’re going to have to explain that one to me.”

“You know, when you split an Oreo apart, one half of the cookie gets the majority of the cream?”

He’s going against every instinct he has, but what the hell. “Would you be the successful Oreo if you got the filming permission? I wouldn’t want to let you—uh, your mayor—down.”

Elisha tugs at his elbow and comes to a standstill, so he does the same. He can sense he’s surprised her for the second time this afternoon. “You’d do that for me?” she squeaks. “I mean, her? Me?”

He shrugs. “You’re helping me with cleaning the house. Seems only fair.”

She bites her lip. “I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

“I don’t.”

“Are you sure? What changed your mind?”

He looks at her for a centuries-long moment, weighing his words. “Yes, I’m sure.” Then, unable to stop himself, he adds, “And you did.”

She opens her mouth, but before she can say a word, he says, “I’m doing this town a public service since I’m genuinely afraid what lie you’ll come up with next if you don’t get your way.”

She purses her lips, eyes alight with teasing. “So selfless of you,” she coos. Then, in the most serious voice he’s ever heard her use, she says, “Thank you, Ves.”

He huffs a laugh. “Pull out your phone. I’m going to give you my email address so you can send me whatever I need to sign to make this sequel happen.”

She does, opening up her mail app to attach the PDF for him to electronically sign and send back. Just as she’s about to put her phone back in her purse, Ves stops her.

Her wrist is chilled against his warm fingertips—she had her hands stuffed in her pockets the whole way back because, he suspects, she left her gloves at home—and skims his pulse in a way that causes an entirely different kind of shiver. “Take my number, too,” he says after a hard swallow.

“Okay. Why?”

“Because your house is too far away to stretch two aluminum cans and I have a deathly fear of birds and their 360-degree vision, so carrier pigeon is also out.”

“...Fine, fine, fair point.” She taps in his number as he recites it. “Is this your way of hinting I need to call before coming over?” She grins. “Just so you know, I was probably almost definitely going to ring the bell this time, my darling stickler for the rules.”

He catches his eye roll at the last second. “Shameless,” he tuts, liking it far more than he should.

“Can’t just let myself in. It’ll set those gossips’ tongues wagging again.”

He arches a brow. “More than the scarf did?”

She grins, conceding. “Maybe not. That was a pretty suave move. Guess you’re not as predictable as I thought.”

He ignores her heckling, but he’s a little miffed to be labeled predictable—it’s not usually considered a complimentary trait. “What did you save me as?” he asks, craning to get a look at her screen.

She immediately presses it against her chest. “Your name. Ves Hollins. What else?”

One skeptical eyebrow goes up. “Your face is too squirrelly for that to be true.”

She waves her free hand. “That’s just how I look.”

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