Page 37 of Wrapped with a Beau

“Well, this production is a huge deal. The director, Damian Rhys, is super particular and everything has to be just so. My job is making sure he stays happy, and since my boss is a dick who’d rather see me crash and burn, I’m basically on my own.” She waves a hand and exhales deeply. “Which is fine. It’s all fine. It’s just a lot of work to rebuild our database contacts and put ourselves on the map again, but that’s literally why I’m here. To start from the ground up. I promised the mayor I knew what I was doing, so I need this to go smoothly.”

“Danica probably doesn’t realize how much you’ve been handling on your own,” says Ves, frowning.

“He’s right. We’re all excited about the sequel, but we don’t want you running yourself ragged,” says Grandpa. His lined face creases with worry. “Forget about helping me with my little project. You have more than enough on your plate.”

“I can do it all,” she insists. It’s what she’s always believed and she’s not going to let anyone—not Damian, Greg, or Bentley—distract her from operating at one hundred percent efficiency. “And I will. With grace and gumption, right, Gramps?”

“No one’s saying you can’t, honey. But there’s a reason you had a whole department under you in Atlanta,” Grandpa says gently. “You should ask Danica to assign you an intern to share the load.”

The oven timer dings and Elisha whirls toward it in relief, grabbing the oven mitt. “If the two of you are done tag-teaming me, can we eat? I’ll just swap this out for the crumble.”

“Elisha.” Grandpa’s tone is stern. He doesn’t whip it out often, but when he does, people listen.

“I can help you with the sleigh,” says Ves. “I can’t say I know my way around a toolbox or anything, but if you show me what to do, I’m a quick learner.”

She almost drops the crumble, reaching the rack just in time. “Really?”

“Really?” repeats Grandpa Dave, equally surprised.

“Yes,” Ves says simply, setting three plates on the table and three forks neatly to the left of each. He meets Elisha’s eyes and says, half challenge, half promise: “Seems like the neighborly thing to do.”

Chapter Eighteen

Elisha

As Elisha quickly figures out, agreeing to help clean out a cavernous two-story Victorian house and actually knuckling down to do it are two very different things. By the end of the first week, her shoulders, back, and tailbone ache, her manicure is hopelessly chipped, and her fingertips are rough from handling hundreds of yellowing paperbacks. She hasn’t struck gold yet, but she knows she’s going to hit pay dirt soon. Won’t it feel amazing to victoriously hold up some rare romance books and gloat in Ves’s face?

She’s bone-tired, but nothing is going to stop her from making trivia night at the Old Stoat. After a quick bite at home, she changes into black fishnet stockings and a midnight-blue velvet midi dress. The fabric clings to her curves, showing off toned calves and just enough cleavage to get sent free drinks at the pub tonight, win or lose. Trivia night is a twice-monthly standing tradition in Piney Peaks, complete with friendly-but-not-really axes to grind against the reigning champs, which hasn’t been Elisha’s team, Came to Sleigh, in a good long while.

As she sweeps matching metallic eye shadow over her lids, dusts champagne highlighter across her cheekbones and the tip of her nose, and pops on a candy-red lip gloss, she contemplates going home with someone at the end of the night. It’s pretty much the only thing that will work out those little kinks in her back that she always seems to wake up with these days. Pro: sex. Con: everything else.

She’s pretty sure her parents can put together what happens the nights she doesn’t come home, simply firing off a Don’t wait up! text so they won’t worry, but she truly does not want everyone in town to know her business.

“Thank god it’s Friday,” she proclaims the second she steps into the Old Stoat.

A cheer immediately goes up as the other patrons echo the sentiment. Seconds later, chairs scuffle against the wooden floor as more people spill in behind her. On the far side of the room, the trivia master is getting his lectern and mic set up, while Becca, who always works trivia nights, clears tables and lays out answer sheets. She looks up when Elisha enters, grinning. “You look hot!”

Several people turn to look, including a few guys from high school who still think they have a shot and two who tried to corner her under the mistletoe last year. Ha. Hell would have to freeze over—twice.

Elisha studiously avoids eye contact with anyone who’s checking her out. “Thanks! You too! I love those dangly snowflake earrings.”

“Lisha, hey!” Solana twirls on her barstool and waves her over. Adam’s working the bar tonight, like he does every Friday, and he has a Spicy Grinch waiting for her on the counter.

“Adam, you are a prince among men,” Elisha says, taking a sip with one hand while wrenching off her black peacoat with the other. She sets her micro purse on the bar and hops on an empty seat. “You have no idea how much I needed this. My entire week snowballed from one thing to another. I am fucking desperate for two whole days off from Greg’s snipes and digs. Two days without JJ micromanaging me because she clearly thinks I’m some small-town hick who can’t handle this project.”

“Oh, no, why do I sense this is another three-Grinch-problem kind of night,” groans Solana.

“Ha! No. Trust me, I’ve learned my lesson.”

Adam laughs. “You were good for business last week, Elisha, but let’s not make a habit of it, yeah?”

She good-naturedly rolls her eyes. “I’d pinky-swear with you, but I can’t bend my finger.”

“If you have frostbite, it’s your own fault,” Solana scolds, but she briskly rubs Elisha’s hands, anyway.

“It’s not that cold out. I’m just stiff from spending eight hours behind a desk and another two helping Ves. On one hand, my inbox is finally at zero and all the permits are squared away. On the other, the more time I spend with him, the more obvious it is that—”

“You want to lick his candy cane?” Solana bats her eyes.

---