Page 78 of Mistletoe All the Way

But I don’t see a beautiful brunette who keeps me on my toes anywhere. Should I be worried? Nah. There are people around. She’s probably talking to someone. Bet she got caught up in a conversation.

I do my best to put her out of my mind even though she’s claiming a spot in my stupid heart already. At the booth, I clean up stray receipts on the ground, then sweep, trying not to look sullen about the contest, about the disappearance of Eloise, about the loss of my dignity from selling fruitcakes today. I’m almost ready to go when my Spidey senses tingle. I swivel around. Lucy’s on the other side of the booth, her elfish hat off. How the hell did she appear without making a sound?

“Hi,” she says, peering around the booth. “Just wondering if Chris is here.”

Where would he possibly be? I make a show of squinting toward the mostly empty shelves. “Nope.”

“Are you going to see him tonight?”

“He’s working in San Francisco today. Won’t be back till to-morrow.”

“Fine. Would you just tell him that my mom loved the video?” She gives a faint eye roll, like it pains her to have said that. “Even though it’s totally weird that she’s crushing on him.”

“He has that effect on people,” I say dryly, hanging up the broom.

“If he were selling the fruitcakes, my mom would have driven down from Oregon to get ten.”

“Shame he wasn’t then.”

“You’re telling me. That one video was not enough.” She blows out a frustrated breath. “Now I’m really going to have to top things for her Christmas gift.” She eyes the remaining fruitcakes once more. “You’ve got extra?”

“For your mom?”

“No,” she says with a scoff. “For me.”

“You like fruitcake?”

“Yeah. Don’t make it weird.”

I hold my hands up in surrender. I’m not sure I’ve ever met someone who could match me grump for grump. “You like what you like.”

“So, are you going to hand them over?”

For gutsiness alone, I reach down and give her a couple fruitcakes, figuring I’ll cover the costs so the baker of these doesn’t take a loss. “Thanks,” she says, dropping one into a canvas bag and working open the other. “I was eyeing them all day. Hoping you’d have some left over.”

“It’s your lucky day.”

“Yep. I thought for sure with our turnout they’d be gone.”

My ears perk at that word—turnout. “How was the crowd?”

“Bigger than last year.”

“That’s great,” I say.

“Yeah,” she says, uninterested now that she’s peeled the plastic wrap off. She bites into a hunk of fruitcake. “Good luck, fruitcake hater.”

I laugh. “Thanks.”

She heads off, and even though I’ve no clue where Eloise went, a smile annoyingly tugs at my mouth. For Eloise. For the turnout. For the way she’s pulling this off, helping to draw more crowds and, I hope, impressing the mayor. Just to be safe though, I shoot her a text. Sure, we came in separate vehicles, but I want to make sure she’s okay.

NOAH

You alive? Or did elves abscond with you?

ELOISE

Alive and well! More soon.