Page 3 of You Wish
He pulled a shirt over his head in that way manly men did and it felt—deliberate. “Nice tights. Candy-cane stripes are a bold statement.”
“They’re festive,” she said, trying to ignore the fact that she was standing in front of him in a mini elf-skirt, fishnet candy-cane stockings, and a neckline that had been deemed “family-friendly” by exactly no one.
His eyes swept down and back up again, slow and unapologetic. “You sure this is a charity gig? ’Cause it’s looking a lot like lingerie with a Christmas complex.”
“It’s a costume,” she snapped. “For kids. You remember kids, right? The smaller humans you wave at during podium photos?”
She tugged the hem of her elf skirt down, aware of his gaze following the movement like it was muscle memory. “Some of us actually work for a living, Jake. We don’t just race fast cars and collect endorsement checks.”
“And some of us,” he said, his voice dropping, “work just as hard not to think about you in candy-cane fishnets.”
The air between them shifted—warm, thick, charged.
She crossed her arms across her chest like armor. “I’m here on business.”
“No.”
“You didn’t even let me finish.”
“I didn’t need to. I know exactly how this goes.”
“Oh? Please, enlighten me.”
“You’ll make it sound like a quick favor. Then suddenly I’m in the back of a float in Austin dressed as a reindeer, holding hands with a six-year-old who keeps telling me I’m ‘not her real daddy,’ while you’re yelling at me to smile for the cameras.”
“That was one time?—”
“You’re forgetting the goats.”
“It was supposed to be a sheep because the three wise men had sheep! That was a mistake.”
He arched a brow. “That’s what you said about us.”
The jab landed, sharp and familiar. She fought the urge to step back. “This isn’t about us. This is about making kids happy. I’m a wish coordinator at The Wish Project.”
A warm smile spread across his face and a familiar tingle flared up in her chest. “That was what you always wanted to do,” he said gruffly. “Congratulations.”
“It seems like I’m not the only one living out their dream. That was an amazing race.”
“You watched?”
“Yes,” she said, feeling stupid for admitting it.
“I botched it on turn three.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re in the running for the world championship.”
“I was last year too.” He sounded matter-of-fact, but she could see the disappointment in his eyes.
She shot back her own warm smile. “This is your year. I feel it.”
“Yeah?” His southern drawl was thick.
“Yeah.”
“Well, if you came to sweet-talk me into being a brand ambassador then I’ll give you the same answer I gave Henry,” he said, referring to their mutual friend. “No.”
“Henry asked you?”
