Page 28 of Better Not Pout
All I know is that the guy I thought I would never like is now front and center in my mind, and that kiss is the only thing I’ve been able to think about.He’sthe only thing I’ve been able to think about.
After locking the front door of the shop, I shove the keys into the pocket of my coat and blow out a long, slow, deep breath as I step onto Main Street and make my way to the Town Square.
I’m probably just overthinking things. Giving it far too much airtime in my head.
The problem is it doesn’t entirely feel like faking it all.
But maybe that’s a good thing? Maybe that just means it’ll be easier to pull this off, that we’re convincing.
It’s not like I have a ton of fake dating experience to go off, obviously, so maybe this is exactly the way that it’s supposed to feel. What do I know?
Snowflakes fall lazily around me, sticking to my gloves and scarf, and I pull my coat tighter around me as I walk, taking in Main Street lit up at night.
Sometimes, I take for granted just how magical Mistletoe Falls can be, especially during Christmastime.
Each lamppost that lights my way as I pass is wrapped in thick fir garland with strings of tiny lights threaded throughout, and big, red velvet bows adorn the base. All of the buildings on our small cobblestoned street have lights strung up around the exterior and festive displays inside their windows, evergreen wreaths hung along the doors.
It truly looks like a Christmas village from a Hallmark movie, and it hits me just how lucky I am to live here. To call a place so beautiful home.
I truly can’t imagine myself anywhere else.
Two kids rush past me, hand in hand, their giggles floating in the cold air around us as they run toward Town Square, and I can’t stop the smile that travels to my lips.
I’ve experienced twenty-eight Christmases in Mistletoe Falls, but this year feels…differentsomehow.
Maybe because there’s a swirl of butterflies spreading their wings in the pit of my stomach because of a certain man I can’t stop thinking about.
Town Square is packed when I finally make the short walk down Main Street, kids and families scattered throughout.
Of course, our first “public” outing would be during Mistletoe Magic, one of the town’s busiest nights of the year, which practically every person in Mistletoe Falls attends.
There are horses, I meanreindeer-drawn carriage rides, hot cocoa and churro booths, holiday music, games and vendors, and Santa’s story time under the gazebo.
It’s one of my very favorite nights that I look forward to all year round.
The massive, twelve-foot Christmas tree is already lit in the middle of the square, colorful lights twinkling brightly as people stand at the foot, admiring the mistletoe-themed ornaments hanging from the branches.
I’m looking for the one that we placed for Sweet Sullivan’s when I feel a large hand curling around my hip from behind, and I jump, turning to see Wells standing there with a smile. His long, dark hair is curling out from beneath the edges of his hat, and he’s wearing my favorite dark green hoodie that makes the amber color of his eyes pop.
“Hi,” he murmurs as I turn to face him, my pulse thrumming loudly in my ears. The kiss we shared in his bar comes rushing back again, and every single one of those feelings that I’m still attempting to make sense of comes rushing back in a wave.
Tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear, I smile up at him. “Hi. Where’s your brother?” I look around at the crowd, and Wells’ gaze follows mine.
“I told him we’d meet at the gazebo at seven.” He glances down at the smartwatch on his wrist before lifting his eyes to mine. “It’s almost seven now, so we should probably head over there.”
When I nod, he reaches for my hand and threads his fingers through mine, clasping them together as we start walking.
As if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Like he’s not at all overthinking everything the way that I am.
Of course he isn’t, Rosalie. Because this is literally what you agreed to do. He’s playing the part.
“You look beautiful, by the way,” Wells murmurs as we walk, turning his attention to me.
A nervous flutter settles beneath my skin, hearing the compliment about the most insecure part of me. I let the words sink in, refusing to second-guess them or laugh it off, like I usually would. Because the way that he looks at me, I can’t help but believe that he truly means what he says.
“Thank you. You look handsome.” My stomach flips, and I exhale a laugh, desperately trying to ignore the silly feeling of giddiness settling beneath my rib cage.
