Page 40 of The Grumpiest Elf

She nods, her brows crimped in a frown. “Yeah.”

I let out another surprised laugh. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No.” She shakes her head slowly, but her frown doesn’t go away. “I don’t think so. It’s just … different.”

This conversation, hot on the heels of the elf name one with Nora and Dylan’s parents, makes me feel squirmy, and not in a good way.

I run my hands down the skirt of my formfitting gray cabled sweater dress that I have on over a pair of leggings and ankle boots. “Do I look okay?”

Her face finally lightens, and she gives me a smile. “You look great. I love that dress on you.”

“Thanks.” I breathe a sigh of relief. At least I have that much going for me, no matter what other weird byplay is going on between Dylan and his family.

And it occurs to me that’s what all this is, something between them, and therefore it’s not something I need to worry about. Not now, at any rate, and likely not ever. I have enough family problems of my own, after all. And no matter how much fun the idea of spending time with Dylan is, he’ll be going back to Seattle to finish his senior year of college soon, and I’ll be … here.

Doing … something.

We might have chemistry, and we might want to explore it, but we’re not well matched for anything more, and only an idiot would try to pretend otherwise. And no matter what my dad thinks about my decision to take time off from school, I’m definitely not an idiot.

“Have fun,” Nora says, giving me a finger wave as she leaves.

And I realize I’ve just been standing here, keeping Dylan waiting.

Grabbing my coat and purse, I hurry out the door of the locker room, leaving any worries about family issues or the future behind.

* * *

Dylan gives me an appreciative once-over when I come out, straightening from the wall he was leaning against and tucking his phone into his pocket.

Once my coat is settled on me, he steps forward, reaching for me. With his hands on my waist inside my open coat, he bends and touches his lips to mine, the contact brief and sweet. “God, I’ve been waiting all night to do that,” he breathes.

I smile in response, looping my arms around his neck. “All night, huh?”

He screws up his face like he’s thinking hard, and my smile grows wider. “Nope. All day, actually. Ever since I dropped you off at your house.” My stomach rumbles again, and his grin matches mine. “But now that I’ve done that, I better feed you before you starve to death. Didn’t you eat lunch?”

Laughing, I button up my coat and put on my mittens before putting my hand in the crook of his proffered elbow. This seems to be a thing for us now. I like it. “Yes, I ate lunch. But that was hours ago.”

“And you’ve been hard at work since then.” He pushes the door open, holding it for me, then making sure it’s closed and locked before offering me his arm again.

“I have. It was a busy afternoon.”

“After a not-so-restful night,” he adds.

That gives me pause, and I tilt my head from side to side in ambivalent agreement. “True, I didn’t sleep as well as I would’ve in my own bed. But I weirdly enjoyed last night anyway.”

He looks at me, eyebrow quirked in question. “Weirdly enjoyed? I’m not sure if I should be offended or not.”

Laughing, I shake my head. “No. Definitely not. It’s just weird to enjoy being trapped by a downed tree and a snowstorm, though. Isn’t it?”

“Then I weirdly enjoyed it too.”

He leads the way down Main Street to a pub at the opposite end from the hall where ChristmasFest is held called The Filling Station. It’s bustling and warm, decorations all around the entryway, waitstaff wearing elf hats, reindeer antlers, and one guy has on a green sweater vest made to look like a Christmas tree, complete with flashing Christmas lights. I can’t help laughing at the sight. “This doesn’t really seem like your kind of place,” I murmur to Dylan in a low voice.

He glances around, genuine surprise on his face. “What makes you say that? I know it’s not fancy, but it’s cozy and the food’s good.”

I gesture at the decorations, including the mistletoe I glimpse not too far from where we’re standing. “It’s just so festive. And you’re such a—” I bite off what I was going to say, but he finishes for me.

“Grinch?”

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