Page 35 of Mistletoe All the Way
“Just let me believe you have a festive bone in your body. We need it for the contest,” she says, eyeing the logo for Colorado State University on the front of the sweatshirt. “Good vet school.”
“Thanks. It is,” I say, and I really should head to the kitchen and keep cooking. I should ask her about my cousin.
I should do a lot of things, but I can’t tear my eyes away from her lifting her arms, pulling on my sweatshirt, then adjusting it since it’s, naturally, too big for her.
“Mmm. So cozy. Thank you.”
My lips twitch again in the threat of a smile. I tamp it down with a curt “You’re welcome.”
“I’m just going to defrost for a few minutes,” she says. “There’s not much time to indulge.”
She looks so good indulging, though, that the next thing out of my mouth is: “Take your time, Eloise.”
She gives me a plaintive look. “You sure?”
“Rusty clearly loves the company.”
“Okay,” she says, and I finally force myself to head to the kitchen. It’s an open floor plan so we’re essentially in the same big room, but we’re both quiet for a beat as I toss a kitchen towel over my shoulder, then fill a pot for the noodles. As I set it on the burner, my gaze strays to her once more.
I turn up the heat, and my mind wanders—picturing her staying a little longer. Imagining meeting her under a different circumstance. One where we didn’t live so many states away. One where I wouldn’t have to keep my distance.
But what’d be the point? Not only are we working together, but we’re also opposites in every possible way. She sees the bright side of everything, and I see reality. Eloise would probably never understand the real me. The guy who’s obsessed with his work. Who’ll go the distance for animals. Who’ll adopt a couple of old horses just to save them from a terrible fate. The man who can’t flip the switch to sunshine and roses. My ex—Audrey—said that side of me didn’t even exist. When she wasn’t complaining about the long hours I worked. I swear there’s a piece of you missing since you’re more interested in your job than me. I’m your girlfriend. They’re animals.
Romance. It’s great in concept but poor in execution.
Eloise pops up from the floor. “All right. I’m thawed. I’ll set up the tree.” She dips her hand into one of the bags and produces a tree stand.
“I’ll help you,” I say, focusing on the practical matters of the night, not on a cold heart. I set the kitchen towel down on the counter.
“Oh good. Because I don’t know how to lift heavy things.”
“Smart-ass,” I mutter.
“And you love being helpful.”
I furrow my brow as I return to the living room. “Are you going to use that as part of your content? Your branding? Your huckleberrying?”
“Strapping and very grumpy veterinarian hates Christmas but loves all creatures great and small and also helping, even when he’s tricked into it.”
“Is this a dating profile now?” I shudder at the thought as I set the tree in the stand.
“Isn’t everything kind of like a dating profile?”
“I hope not,” I say, standing up the tree in a corner by the fireplace. Close but not fire-hazard close.
“Wait!”
The command comes out sharp, full of concern. I freeze, my hands on the trunk. “What is it?”
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
I tilt my head. “Is it a requirement to be single? In the competition?”
“No,” she says quickly. “But we should include her on your socials if you do. That is, if she wants to be included. And if you want her included.”
She’s talking more quickly than usual. Sounding a touch worried. Is her worry for her, or for optics? I’m not sure, so I fluff out some branches, trying to figure out exactly how I feel about her question.
A little bothered. I stop fluffing and meet her gaze straight on. “Do you think I’d say things to you like If you wanted my number, all you had to do was ask if I had a girlfriend?”
