Page 43 of Wrapped with a Beau

Dave smiles and scratches at his gray scruff. “The more the merrier, right?”

Ves can’t say he agrees. It sounds like a nightmare for catering.

“Elisha’s somewhere over there,” says Dave, pointing to a far-flung corner beyond a mini forest of lit trees. He gives a fond laugh. “Probably evading her Mistletoe Miscreants...”

“Thanks.” With a parting nod, he heads in her direction.

Elisha faces away from him, blocking his view of the man she’s speaking with. She is, unsurprisingly, wearing a pointy green hat with a huge red pom-pom. But even though that’s what draws his attention first, it’s her slinky black bodycon dress that makes his mouth go dry.

He rubs at his jaw when he sees its open back. His fingers flex, yearning to splay across her skin. Even with that ridiculously unsexy hat, she’s still the most gorgeous woman he’s ever seen. The realization slams into him, leaving his skin prickling icy-hot, like a persistent windburn.

Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s striding toward her, determination in every step.

Chapter Twenty-One

Ves

Once Ves is close enough, he overhears “For the last time, Richard. Take your mistletoe elsewhere before you make me do something decidedly un-elflike.”

Protectiveness and jealousy rear in his chest. “Everything good here?” Ves asks Elisha, but it’s Richard who answers.

“Yes, we are fine.” He squints, not bothering to hide his irritation. “Hey, you’re the guy from trivia!”

“Ves Hollins.”

“Richard Breckenridge.” He doesn’t extend his hand to shake, maybe because he’s holding a bunch of mistletoe in each fist. “You’re the reason I couldn’t get parking.”

“Pardon me?”

“All the women here.” Richard scowls. “They’re all here for you. You’re fresh blood.”

Ves turns to Elisha, a panicked thought suddenly occurring. “I’m not the guest of honor, am I?”

She places one hand on her hip and the other on her chin. “Inadvertently. Honestly, I can’t believe you actually showed up.” But she seems happy about it.

“Of course I did. Your grandpa invited me. Though he did say it was just ‘a little party.’ ”

Richard laughs meanly. “Get ready to get ‘caught’ under the mistletoe, my poor, deluded dude.”

“Hey.” Elisha’s eyes flash. Without another word, she reaches out to grab his mistletoe. “Stop ripping apart our decorations. I do not want to see you with them again. You work your way up to a kiss, get consent, and preferably you don’t just lunge at people who have known and rejected you since high school!”

With a wounded look, the man slinks off.

“It needed to be done,” Elisha says decisively, eyes narrowing after him.

“You won’t hear an argument from me,” says Ves. If he’s being honest, he didn’t like seeing Richard that close to her. Wondering whether he’d placed his hand on Elisha’s bare skin, skimmed the curve of her spine. It makes something primal in his chest crackle and spit like a roaring fire without a grate to contain it.

“No argument? That’s a first.” But she’s smiling. At least for a moment, the delightful curve of her lips seems to share a secret. “God, this is why I hate being single over the holidays. Every guy who you turned down in the past pops up out of the woodwork thinking you’re now desperate enough to say yes. There are Richards everywhere.” She sighs. “I’m sorry Grandpa tricked you into coming.”

Ves can only assume Dave was doing a little meddling of his own. “Why didn’t you ask me?”

She wrinkles her pert little nose rather adorably. “To a Christmas party? I just assumed it wouldn’t be your thing. A full house of people all interested in you? Unavoidable mistletoe? Boatloads of small talk with inquisitive townspeople? I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

Okay, granted, it’s not the way he’d most like to spend his evening, but if it means she’s there, too...

His chest simmers like a pot of bubbling wassail. She gets him. She cares if he’s uneasy about certain situations. She intuits things about him without needing to be told. Has he ever had a woman care like her?

Ves takes a beat too long to respond, because the next thing he knows, she presses, “Since you’re staying, are you volunteering to be my anti-Richard? My mistletoe repellent?”

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