Page 22 of Mistletoe All the Way

She gives me a look that says, You’re testing my patience, Lennox. “Seriously? You were going to trick me again?”

“I wasn’t trying to trick you, per se.”

She parks her hands on her hips. “That’s literally what you were trying to do. No per se, ands, or buts about it.”

“I wasn’t doing it to fool you, Eloise. I wanted us to win, and I figured we’d both have a better shot if Chris was the one vying to be the most festive man. The guy put antlers on his dog last night! I caught him humming ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer’ after he shot a video with her. He’s one of you—a goddamn jolly.”

“But you can’t keep tricking me.”

I look around the godforsaken market, teeming with my least favorite thing—people, a sea of people—then back at her. “I’m not tricking you. It’s me, here in my personal hell, in my full anti-Christmas glory. And I’m confessing.”

“That you were trying to pull a fast one,” she snaps.

“Hold on. You showed up on the farm unannounced with your phone camera,” I point out.

She tilts her head, her expression saying, C’mon. “Not the same. I was there taking photos to try to help you win the competition. To help you win the farm. You were trying to wiggle out of the whole thing.”

She might be right, but I still need to make my case. “Okay, you have me there. But if anything, my attempt to replace myself with Chris shows I’m trying.”

She scoffs. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” I say, then shrug. “Look, was it sneaky? Maybe—”

“It was underhanded,” she fires back.

“It was for a good cause. To win the farm, and to help you win the tourism contract. My brother’s a shoo-in, so if I had been able to convince him, it would have been a victory for all of us.”

She blows out a breath, then shakes a finger at me. It’s so damn cute the way she’s trying to be stern. But her nose is crinkling, and her cheeks are flushed red, and the net effect of this woman in a white knit hat chiding me just makes me want to—

Stop thinking of kissing her.

“Fine,” she says, lifting her chin primly. “I accept your apology.”

It wasn’t really one. More like an explanation. But if it makes her happy… “Good.”

She lifts her elbows like she’s getting ready to wallop me. “But don’t forget I know Krav Maga. So let’s make a deal. No more tricking.”

“Lower your weapons, and I’ll agree to your terms.”

She lets her arms fall to her sides but then quickly grabs my jacket in warning. “Noah, you need to be a man of your word. You can’t just say sign me up and then try to enlist your brother. This isn’t like… the fae rules of lying.”

I frown. “Fae?”

“They don’t lie outright, but they twist the truth.” Letting go of me, she waves her free hand. “Never mind. Just don’t mess with me again. Especially since your dog has great taste and likes me.”

Rusty cocks an ear, clearly knowing we’re talking about him.

With enough reluctance to fill a sleigh, I mutter, “Yes.”

“Good. I forgive you. Let’s chat now,” she says, snagging another chestnut and popping it in her mouth.

But before Eloise and I dive into business, there’s something I need to do. Something I should have done sooner, but better late than never. “Eloise, sorry I was kind of a dick the day I met you.”

“Kind of? You were one,” she says as we wander past booths draped in plaid and garland. Vendors call out over the crowd, selling jars of jam, embroidered stockings, and pine cone wreaths, while Rusty swings his snout left and right, inhaling all the holiday scents.

“That’s why I’m apologizing,” I say, meaning it, since I was more than a little rude that day.

Eloise stops in front of a stall selling blankets with sleigh illustrations on them. “Then say you’re sorry for being a big dick. Not kind of one.”