Page 66 of Mistletoe All the Way

“One down, four to go,” I say.

Eloise’s sparkling eyes seem to say she thinks so too. But when she sets down her cup, her expression sobers. “Before we talk about the Christmas market challenge, there’s something I need to tell you.”

So much for that temporary high. “Give me the bad news.”

She scans the diner, checking for big ears. “I think the coast is clear, but just in case…”

She slips out of the booth and scoots into my side, her thigh sliding right next to mine.

That’s… a little distracting. So’s her citrusy scent. But nothing’s more distracting than the way she turns her head closer, her hair curtaining the side of her face, her lips perilously close to my… cheek.

She cups the side of her mouth, and the temperature in me shoots through the roof. She’s so damn close, like she was yesterday in the barn when I touched her cheek, her chin, her hair. Like the other week at my home, under the mistletoe.

“Yesterday when I went to the barn after lunch,” she begins, her voice low, feathery, “I was checking to see if I left any stray ribbons behind.”

“That hardly seems like a state secret.”

“I saw Stephen taking pictures of the horses.”

“What?” I bite out. I must have heard her wrong.

“I didn’t mention it at the time because I didn’t want to worry you before the first event.”

Narrowing my eyes, I growl. But I also understand her omission. “Did he say why?”

“He claimed he was going to put up the photos in the bar. But I have a feeling he’s—”

“Going to sell the horses,” I finish, breathing fire.

Her lips twitch in a hint of a smile. “Yes.”

“Why the hell are you smiling?”

“Because last time I saw him do something suspicious you didn’t believe me at first.”

“I believed you,” I correct, though I maybe wasn’t one hundred percent all in.

“Eventually. You didn’t assume he was nefarious from the start. I like that you’re making nefarious assumptions this time.”

My god, she’s adorable. Clever and captivating, and with a brain like a whip. “I’m assuming all right. Assuming the worst. He could be selling them at auction. Maybe even to a kill buyer.”

Fire licks her eyes. “Shit.”

“He can’t sell them yet. The place isn’t his. But from the lawyers in their suits, to him entering the contest, to the horse pics—he’s sure he’s getting the farm and he’s going to sell it.” My jaw tightens and my mind spins, landing right back on the first bit of intel Eloise shared about him at my cabin. “What if he’s still having business troubles? What if he’s hoping to use the farm as, I don’t know, collateral on a new loan or something?”

Eloise is on the edge of her seat as she asks, “Do you think you should tell your grandfather?”

That’s a reasonable question, but the answer is not yet. I shake my head. “I’d need proof. Remember how he was at lunch yesterday? He thinks hard times build character, which it does. But if he’s doing something shady, that’s a different story. For now,” I say, the words tasting like battery acid, “Stephen has done right by him. He helped him out when he had his fall.”

She frowns. “Yeah. I get that. You can’t just go to him on a hunch.”

“Exactly. He’d believe the story about hanging the pictures up in the bar. It’ll feel true to him.”

“So we need some proof. Evidence that he’s not managing things with hard work and determination. Your gramps’s words.”

I blow out a frustrated breath but also a determined one as an idea takes shape. “You like spying, don’t you?”

She grins, a little excited. “Want me to spy more?”