Page 67 of Mistletoe All the Way

“Yes.”

We devise a plan, then talk about the upcoming Christmas market challenge. When we’re done, I think back on both today’s win and Eloise’s discovery, and the unexpected effect they’re having on me. There’s a newfound determination grounding me, driving me on. Fuck Stephen. Those horses are mine to take care of.

“Eloise,” I say to the brilliant beauty by my side.

“Yes?”

“Let’s win this thing.”

She offers a palm for high-fiving. I smack back, but then curl my fingers through hers, holding her hand for a beat, savoring the warmth and the way she feels. Soon though, my brain supplies a picture of her underneath me, her fingers gripping mine as she arches her back, closes her eyes, parts her lips.

It’s a fantastic image.

So good I really should return to Chris’s house and to Rusty, so I’m not tempted.

After I release her hand, we leave and I walk this incomparably sexy spy home. It’s borderline annoying that I find her even sexier now that she’ll be snooping around with me.

But I guess I always did like a little thrill.

After I say good night, I queue up an audio drama and take my time walking away from her building. She lives on the second floor—she’s told me as much. At last, the lights wink on in the corner apartment. Is it hers? I wish I knew, but when purple, red, pink, and blue reflect across the window, flickering on and off, I’m sure.

That’s her place.

She’s just turned on her tree. Betty.

Who names their tree? Eloise, that’s who. My chest warms as I linger on the reflection in the window for a few more seconds before I walk back down Main Street, listening to a tale of a serial killer.

I head to my truck, parked in a lot near the town square, passing St. Nick’s Hangout on the way.

“Dick,” I mutter at the door. I could duck inside, amble up to the bar, and act like an ass. But I don’t. I keep going, and when I reach my truck, I hit the key fob, then sense rather than see someone walking toward me.

I pause the audio drama, turn around, and there he is. Tossing his keys up and down in his palm. Stephen must have parked here too.

“Nice wheels earlier,” I say, nodding to his convertible.

Oops. Guess I was an ass.

He shakes his head, like he can’t believe I went there. “Yeah, it is a nice ride. Bet you wish you had it.”

“Absolutely. I’d definitely get one, but I don’t qualify.”

He gives me a look like that doesn’t compute. “For a loan?”

“No. To drive one. Since I’m not compensating for anything,” I say.

Yup. I’m a dick.

He sighs. “And I was going to play nice. But hear this, Other Dr. Lennox. That was real smooth earlier, playing the animal card. That’s basically cheating. It’s the only reason you won.”

I scoff. “I literally ‘play the animal card’ every day of my life. But sure.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not worried, Noah. The town loves me. And you can’t sell pets at the Christmas market, so good luck topping me next time.”

Stephen has a leg up in that department, no doubt. But, even so, I can’t resist one more dig. “Keep compensating, Stephen.”

I hop in my truck and drive away.

20 A TIME FOR FROOF