Page 16 of Jingle Bell Jilt
“It sounds like it.” I nod. “You’re lucky. A lot of people wouldn’t be allowed to take off at the busiest time of year.”
“What about you? No problem taking time off at Christmas?”
I lift my chin, as if it will convince him that I’m not a complete mess. “Well, I was taking the time off for my honeymoon.” Evan’s mouth snaps shut, and I think I can actually see him reprimanding himself.
“This place is booked pretty much the whole year. There are only a few days here and there that it’s empty. If I only got a vacation when it’s slow, I’d never get to take time off.”
That makes sense. I can see how Orlando would be busy all the time. I mean, it’s probably hotter in the summer, but if that’s when kids are out of school and the only time that the family can go together, it makes sense that it would be busy even if it’s hot.
“Why didn’t you go to New Hampshire this year?” If it was his only vacation, what would keep him from going?
He looks a little sheepish. “Actually, I’m filling in for the manager. His wife just had a baby and that’s why I stayed here.”
What did that mean he’s filling in? Is he not usually in charge of the house I was renting?
He can probably see the smoke coming out of my ears as I try to process what this means. “I actually own these townhouses. The guy who usually manages them is out on paternity leave. And rather than have the management company fill in with someone who isn’t familiar with the properties, I just stayed to do it.”
My face heats with embarrassment. I’ve been calling him the manager all this time and he’s the owner? Why hadn’t he said something sooner? “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply—”
He lifts his hand. “No. Don’t apologize. Most of these places are managed by companies. I would have assumed the same thing.”
I close my eyes so that I can roll them at myself. I’m such an idiot. When I open them, he’s watching me. Smiling at me. Holy cow, he’s handsome when he smiles. I mean, he’s easy on the eyes when he isn’t smiling. But he’s next-level beautiful when his lips quirk up. “Really, you don’t have anything to feel bad about.”
I look around again, mostly because I can’t look at him any longer without heat creeping up my neck. “Okay. Here’s the deal.”
He raises a brow. “The deal?”
I nod. “We’ve both had a pretty crappy week. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want this to be how I define Christmas from now on.” I look at him with wide eyes, but then stop because I realize they probably just make me look crazy, and he might already think I have tendencies. There’s no need to add fuel to that fire. “I mean, I don’t want to end up being like all those people that they base Hallmark movies on. You know, the ones who hate Christmas because something bad happened to them just before Christmas, forever tainting them until that one special year when their long-lost love comes into town to buy it for a huge hotel development and suddenly they see the wonder of Christmas again.”
I stop because he’s just staring at me. And not in a good way.
“But wait. I thought the guy who rolls into town to buy the little hotel and exploit it only for revenue, is the one who hates Christmas.” His lips quirk. “I’m beginning to wonder if you’ve actually seen a Hallmark Christmas movie.”
I’m somewhat shocked by his apparent Hallmark savviness. “And I’m beginning to think you may have seen too many.” I give him side eyes.
He laughs. “Okay. So how are we going to change our fates?”
I tap my finger to my lips and his gaze drops briefly. But only briefly. Not in an I’m-holding-myself-back-from kissing-you-senseless kind of way, which feels like a pity. “The first thing we need to do is decorate this place so it feels Christmas-y.” I pull my purse over and pull out my wallet. Slapping a twenty-dollar bill on the counter, I look up at him. “I propose a little contest.”
He leans forward, dropping both elbows on the counter. “A contest? Is that really in the spirit of Christmas?”
I grin. “With my family, it is. Everything is a contest. Who buys the best present. Who found the cutest wrapping paper. If it isn’t a contest, it isn’t Christmas.”
“Duly noted,” he nods. “Go on.”
“I propose we each take twenty bucks and see who can buy the best, most creative decorations for the money.”
He narrows his eyes at me and leans closer.
Nowmyeyes drop tohislips. They’re so close. I mentally shake myself. What am I thinking? I just got dumped after two years together. I’m not supposed to be thinking about kissing someone else.
“And what’s the prize? Any good contest has to have a prize.” He eyes me.
“The winner gets first pick of the ice cream sitting in the freezer in my townhouse.” I frown. “I should probably go get my stuff. They may need to unplug the fridge to get all the water cleaned up.”
“What if there isn’t a flavor that I like?” He asks.
“Are you implying that you’re going to win?” I act offended. Although, really. I’m pretty certain I’m going to win. This guy does not have it in him to craft. And he’ll need to craft to get anything decent for twenty bucks.
