Page 28 of Mistletoe All the Way

I scratch my ear. “My publicist?”

Eloise tilts her head my way. “Do you prefer calling me your social media manager? I’m comfortable with either title.”

“The title’s not the point. The point is,” I sputter, “you didn’t tell me you were coming.”

I mean, it’s a little weird she’s crashing the event, isn’t it? Is this just me being a dick again?

Sailor’s big blue eyes widen with worry. She holds up her hands. “We thought you knew. We were told your social media manager had set up all this.”

The passive voice is doing a lot of work there. “Who told who?” I ask Sailor.

Eloise raises a hand, eagerly taking credit. “That’d be me. I emailed the director of Little Friends yesterday and told her I was on my way to help. I thought that’s what you were saying at the grotto. To give someone a heads-up. Sidenote: She loved the photo of you at Santa’s Grotto. So cute.”

“Me too!” Sailor says. “I’m taking my boys to see Santa this weekend.”

Her boys are her two beagle mixes.

I focus on Eloise. “Why do I feel like I’ve been set up?”

She sails over to me and pats my arm. “Me? Set you up? I’d never do that.”

“Fine. Why did you surprise me?” I say, since semantics seem to matter to her.

“I did notify the director, like I said. But honestly, look around.” She gestures to the rescue’s entryway, festooned in sparkling red, glittery green, shiny silver, and all kinds of pine. “I researched the past years’ kickoff events and there weren’t nearly enough decorations. We need it to feel like nonstop animal Christmas. The influencers will love it.”

My brain short-circuits. “There are influencers coming?”

This is a nightmare. Schoolkids are fine, local press is manageable, but influencers? They’ll want me to be charming like Chris. That’s not in my nature.

Sailor claps. “Oh yay! I want to be an influencer. Maybe I can make some contacts here.”

“I’d be happy to do some intros,” Eloise says to Sailor.

“That would be amazing! You’re the best.”

Evidently, my social media manager has made a new best friend. But still, Eloise hasn’t answered me.

“Eloise, why are influencers coming?” That word just sounds so ominous. So social. So everything I want to avoid. My muscles tighten uncomfortably and my skin feels itchy.

Eloise gives me a look that roughly translates to Silly boy. “Rescue influencers are so important these days. They showcase their foster dogs and help bring attention to animals in rescues that need a little extra boost in getting adopted. They’re vital.”

“Can confirm,” Sailor puts in, and I feel like I’m being double-teamed by them.

There’s way too much happening here. I’m irrationally annoyed by the presence of this too-attractive woman, with too much energy, too many ideas, and entirely too much joy when she puts me in my place.

“We need to talk,” I grit out, then tip my chin to the hall leading back to the vet practice.

She follows me, then tilts her chin up at me ever so innocently as we stop midway down the corridor. “What’s up, Future Mr. Holiday?”

I flap a hand toward the overdecorated lobby. “It’s like Christmas threw up out there. I don’t like commercial stuff like this. And I don’t like—”

“Me?” she asks with a sweet, sugary tone.

“No, that’s not the issue,” I blurt out. It’s not even remotely the issue.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to like me. But this?” She sweeps her arm behind her. “This will help get more attention. So will the influencers. Trust me on that.”

“Eloise,” I warn her. “You arrived out of the blue. You didn’t give me any notice. You just… appeared like fucking Galinda or something.”