The inn door creaks open, and a gust of icy wind sweeps through, ruffling the letters on the table. I reach for another card, trying to bury myself in work—but my eyes catch a figure in the corner. Dylan. Of course. And Sloane is with him, looking…unhappy.
“Don’t look now,” I murmur, but Jay’s gaze shifts automatically toward the door.
Sloane gives us a hesitant, awkward little wave, and Jaylynn’s frown deepens. “What are they doing here?”
“No idea,” I mutter under my breath, my teeth grinding.
Dylan strolls toward the counter, that infuriatingly smug grin plastered across his face. Sloane follows like a shadow, and the next thing I know, Belinda is handing him a key.
I shake my head. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Ignore them,” Jay whispers, but Dylan clearly has a different idea.
He strides over, grin still in place. “I didn’t realize you two were staying here too.”
I narrow my eyes. “Yeah…we are,” I growl, the words sharp. He knew. I told him we were at the town hall meeting.
“What are you working on?” Sloane asks, settling herself in the big wingback chair beside Jay.
As Jay turns toward Sloane I can’t help but turn to Dylan and comment, “I thought they were fully booked here.”
Dylan smooths a hand through his hair and unzips his coat, that wry, infuriating grin firmly in place. “When you have clout like I do.”
Clout.
Ah, that explains the stench.
He drops into the seat next to me, all casual arrogance. “You know, I’ve been thinking. I should probably be the one playing Santa. I am the mayor, after all.”
“Not the mayor of Snowberry,” I point out, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Sure, sure,” he says, shrugging like it’s obvious, “But still…and Sloane mentioned something about being in line for the booth if you were going to be in it. You know, for charity.”
What the actual fuck? Is he trying to hook us up or something?
“We really should stick to the original plan,” he mutters, trying to sound reasonable, though my knuckles tighten around the edge of the table.
“Nope,” I blurt out firmly. No way this guy is going on the float with Jay. “BJ already did all the work letting the suit out.” I rub my hands over my thighs, working to keep them busy. “I tried it on earlier, and it wouldn’t be fair to ask her to take it in again this close to the parade.”
Judging by the scowl carving deep lines into his face, I’ve clearly struck a nerve. I pick up my drink and take a long, slow sip, trying to look innocent, but inside, I’m practically dancing. Jesus. I really do belong on Santa’s naughty list.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Dylan says, turning to Jay with all the practiced charm of a man who thinks the world bends to him. “Hey, Jay, how about I play Santa? The town’s expecting it, and…” His eyes flick toward me, that casual, mocking superiority I want to wipe off his face, “…I’ll make sure everything goes smoothly. We wouldn’t want an incident, especially if you ever want to leave this town and work in the city again.”
Goddammit. Not only is he insulting me, he’s insulting her, too. My jaw tightens. My gaze sweeps the room and lands on the enormous light-up candy cane by the door.
No Santa in the world would put me on the naughty list for that, right?
I take another steadying breath and force myself to sink back into the chair. No way am I going to deck Dylan. That would be exactly what he wants. A fight. Drama. Proof that I’m…reactive, impulsive, predictable. Besides, I already promised Jay I wouldn’t let anything ruin her festival. So, I clamp down on the fire inside me, letting it burn quietly. But that doesn’t mean I’m not plotting other ways to make my point. Like putting a creepy elf in his room.
21
Jaylynn
After a day of making sure the festival continues to stay on track—fingers crossed—I grab my purse from the dresser and tug on my hat.
“You guys have fun tonight,” I call to Penn as he steps from the bathroom, hair damp, skin still flushed from the shower. He looks so good, I nearly scrap my plans and climb back into bed just to get tangled up in him.
“You’re still not going to tell me where you’re sneaking off to?” he asks, pulling me into his arms before I can answer. Not that I’m going to actually tell him. His mouth claims mine in a kiss so deep, so consuming, I forget the day, the season, my own name.