Page 5 of Wrapped with a Beau

Naturally, when news of plans for a fiftieth-anniversary sequel were announced, everyone in town was delighted to sign new location release forms so their business could be featured again. In Elisha’s role as town film liaison, she loved nothing more than going door-to-door to get those signatures, reuniting the town for the movie that meant so much to them.

And, of course, Maeve was the first one to sign for the sequel. But with her death, the existing contract is moot. It’s Ves Hollins’s signature Elisha needs if she doesn’t want the whole town, her boss, and half of Hollywood to blame her.

Especially since none of them even know about this little hiccup, and she plans to keep it that way.

“Okay,” says Solana. “So getting him to give you filming permission is going to be a teensy bit more difficult. It’s not like you’re a stranger to a challenge.”

Teensy? Elisha blinks incredulously. “You do remember he kicked me out into the cold, let me hobble across the street, and kept my mom’s lawn ornament hostage, right? That’s a bit more than a ‘challenge.’ ”

“Maybe,” admits Solana, smiling her thanks at her boyfriend when the drinks arrive. It’s a busy night, so they don’t have more than a few seconds to make heart eyes at each other before it’s back to business. “I guess it just depends on whether you’re up for it or not.”

Elisha ponders the answer in the sickly-green reflection of her cocktail. If she wasn’t up for a challenge, she would never have left the comfort and safety of her hometown for the opportunities in Atlanta after college. With an established and bustling film office, Elisha often had more work than she could comfortably handle, but she always enjoyed the challenge... and the satisfaction that came with pulling it off.

More importantly, if she weren’t up for it, she would never have come back. She’s no stranger to hard work or lost causes—her time away from Piney Peaks proved that. There’s nothing she can’t achieve if she goes after it with her whole heart. As her grandpa always says, everything is possible with grace and gumption.

She gulps rather than sips her melon-lemon-lime drink. When it comes to men, she’s never had to do the chasing before, professionally or otherwise. “Do you really think I can win Ves over? Woo him?”

“You’re the best at what you do, babes. You’ve rolled with worse punches than this and come through victorious.” Solana squeezes Elisha’s shoulder. “It’ll all be... Oh, shit. Okay, don’t look now, but—I said don’t look!”

Chapter Three

Elisha

It’s the worst thing Solana could have said; her exclamation has Elisha already swiveling around on the barstool. And a second later, it’s too late to pretend not to have seen the couple entering the Old Stoat. Yeah, this is definitely no longer happy hour. It’s not even remotely in the vicinity of “getting drunk enough to forget your impending problems with the hot new neighbor that you one hundred percent caused yourself” hour.

Because Bentley, Elisha’s ex-fiancé, has just swanned into the pub with a woman’s hand tucked into the crook of his flannel-clad elbow, the classic red-and-black plaid Elisha always loved but he refused to wear back when they were dating. The diamond sparkling on the woman’s finger almost distracts from the glint of her gold wedding band.

Almost.

The last time she saw him, he was just a face on a screen, flickering in and out on a shitty Wi-Fi connection, breaking her heart. Even now, three years later, she feels the phantom pain of a knife between her shoulder blades.

“Ellie!” Bentley’s shout is loud enough that the entire pub turns to gawk. When his wife slips her arm from his, he strides forward with a huge grin. “Talk about a blast from the past!”

His joy at seeing her is as puzzling as the fact that he’s here. In her town. In her pub. In her personal space bubble. Her heartbeat spikes as he opens his arms. Wait, he’s not going to—He can’t seriously expect—Oh, okay, he is and he does. This is actually happening.

“Oh, um,” she says, words muffled into the front of his chest, angling her knees awkwardly to the side and wondering how quickly she can let go without appearing rude. “Hi?”

Bentley lets her go first, stepping back to rejoin the wife who he still hasn’t introduced. “How are you? You look great.” And then, in a way that’s somewhere between a compliment and an insult, “I should have known you’d never leave Piney Peaks. You’re still here after all these years, huh?”

Solana gives him her frostiest smile. “She left Atlanta to come here, actually. She’s an amazing film liaison. You know she was a lifesaver for the latest Taft Bamber indie film? Yeah, my girl Lisha here was the one pulling all the strings to make it happen. She never gives up.”

“You give me way too much credit!” Elisha laughingly protests, flushing. “It was a team effort.”

“Hey, if my best friend doesn’t toot her own horn, I’m going to do it for her,” Solana declares. “You’re a badass and Piney Peaks is lucky to have a superstar like you. Quit eating humble pie.”

If it were anyone other than Bentley, Solana wouldn’t be so hell-bent on making a big deal about Elisha’s accomplishments. And with anyone else, Elisha would make much more of an effort to downplay how hard she’d worked to attract and promote commercial filming for the Georgia Film Office.

But the truth was that she’d been damn good at her job; none of the other entry-level hires had gotten the coveted promotion, and before she’d left, anyone who hadn’t flamed out had been working under her. So the petty part of her guesses it doesn’t hurt that Bentley knows that other people saw her worth, even if he couldn’t. After all, humble pie is pretty much the worst pie.

“Oh?” He searches Elisha’s face like he’s looking for confirmation. “Finally cut those apron strings, huh? Good for you, Ellie.”

Fuck you wouldn’t be a very festive response, so Elisha chooses to ignore that. “Hi,” she says, holding out her hand to the woman next to Bentley that he still hasn’t thought to introduce. “This is my best friend, Solana”—Solana gives a little wave—“and I’m Elisha Rowe.”

She makes a point to use her full name, pointedly staring at Bentley until he frowns. Lisha is reserved for Solana, who’d given her the nickname in kindergarten, and Ellie was never. It was too sweet to suit her, but Bentley always loved using it even when she told him she wasn’t a fan. Once, she’d convinced herself he was affectionate, but now she knows he was actually just being the other A-word: annoying.

“Tori.” The woman’s handshake is solid, firm. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“All good things,” Bentley says with a laugh.

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