Page 32 of The Christmas Dash

“Boring.” Gabe makes a blergh face. “What do you really want?”

“That’s literally all I can think about these days, but otherwise, I guess a boyfriend wouldn’t be the worst.”

His gaze snaps to mine, resting heavily on my chilled cheek and making me flush. Why did I tell him that? I blame Ivy’s meddling, but still! I can’t believe I admitted that I’m single when Gabe’s been out there dating other—gorgeous—musicians. Not that I’ve been keeping track, but Elena mentioned that he was spending time with Viola Rose, who won female vocalist of the year at last year’s country music awards, so . . .

“Is that right?” he asks.

“I mean, yeah.” I’m in this far; there’s no going back. I take a chance and meet his gaze. It’s loaded with a spark of intrigue, which is … intriguing. “Maybe,” I amend.

Gabe looks away, slinging his hands into his coat pockets, all casual. “So no one special lately?”

“Not for about a year.”

“Huh.”

It’s awkward. So awkward. Curse me and my stupid big mouth. At least I know better than to ask about his love life. I’m not a glutton for punishment.

“We could set you up with Santa.”

I turn slowly to look at Gabe. He nods in the direction of the gazebo again.

“Guy looks jacked,” he adds with a hint of a smile tipping up his lips.

I squint my eyes against the cold and take in the Santa I hired. “He’s a fifty-five-year-old retired Marine, so he probably is jacked. But also, I’m not super into an age gap.”

“Better luck with next year’s Santa, then.”

I laugh, and the awkwardness of the moment evaporates.

“What about you? What do you want for Christmas this year?” I ask him as we wander through the crowds.

“A decent sweater.”

I splutter out a laugh. “Seriously?”

He side-eyes me. “Don’t you remember I have terrible taste in clothing?”

My mind flashes back to some of the ensembles he wore in high school. “You used to rock the full-body tie-dye look.”

“I actually thought that looked good.” He grimaces. “I blame the people who thought tie-dye pants were a good idea. But yeah, that’s my point. My ability to pick out my own outfits hasn’t improved much since then. My stylist dresses me for shows. Otherwise, I wear sweatpants. So every year, I hope someone gives me a decent sweater or something.”

I smile. It’s so endearing that even though he’s a big star, he hasn’t grown conceited or vain. I’m about to tell him so when I spot Xander across the town green, chatting with a group of Chamber of Commerce members.

I point to their circle. “I need to go show my face over there.”

Gabe frowns. “Better you than me. I’m hitting up the s’mores bar if you want to bump into me again.”

My mouth waters. For the s’mores. Not for the man. “Save one for me.”

“You got it.”

Chapter 10

Gabe

Beth crosses the green at a hurried clip, headed for the posse of Dasher Valley business owners. She holds her chin up and has a smile plastered on her face, but there’s a stiffness to her posture. She’s putting a ton of pressure on herself to earn a coveted spot in the Dasher Valley 8. It’s a big deal—I get it. But something about her one-track mind is unsettling. It’s always been Beth’s prerogative to throw herself into her efforts. Whether that be the high school marching band, the elementary school kids she tutored in college, or the bookstore. Usually her efforts make her light up. Or at least that’s how I remember it. This, on the other hand, seems to be draining Beth of her spark.

But it’s not any of my business. Really, what do I know about Beth these days?