In the kitchen after fleeing from being caught in flagrante delicto in the bedroom: “Fortesburry, I smell gingerbread. Acquire some for me.”
Beau stands behind the giant gingerbread house, with the gingerbread smell pumping through the room, and he pantomimes breaking a piece off. And then he runs when he catches the attention of an employee.
By the time the tour spits us out by the restaurant and gift shop, I realize I haven’t listened to any of the audio guide I was excited about, but I still had a lot of fun. Even more fun than I usually have at historic sites. And I usually have a lot of fun at historic sites.
That was all because of the man next to me. The Fortesburry to my Vanderbilt.
But I buy the guidebook so I can still read all the history I missed later. And pick up presents for Priya and Ajay.
Beau revives Fortesburry when we’re in the gift shop, offering to whittle me every object I touch. I don’t know how he’s going to whittle me a shirt, but I don’t want to wear it. Not even for that really good dick.
“Hungry after putting us peasants in our place?” Beau asks after I pay for my goods, despite Beau trying to hand over his card at the last minute. But I know his ways now and beat him to the cashier. I also grabbed his and refused to give it back until the transaction was over.
“Always hungry. But I don’t think I was very successful putting you in any sort of place.”
“I think you’d be surprised if you knew the effect you had on me, Baby Girl.”
I stand there and open and close my mouth a few times, not sure how to react to that. Because he’s having an effect on me too, despite how much I keep reminding myself to stay strong.
Beau, being the nice man who’s too charming for my own good, gets me moving again without making me respond to his emotional statement. “Let’s get you some pimento cheese in the old stables.” He turns me in the direction of the food.
The old stables, as it turns out, is quite the fancy restaurant now that they’ve kicked out the equine residents and turned their stalls into plush booths. The décor and the delicious pimento cheese dip go a long way to making up for the fact that Beau is making me wish I wanted more, making me wish that I could have a relationship like a normal person.
“I’ll give you this, Old MacDonald: all this food makes the South a real contender in the Christmas competition.” I lean back in the booth, stomach bursting with the food I’ve consumed in the past hour. I send up thanks to whoever invented leggings, and then brave souls who first used them as real pants. Heroes.
“Really?” he asks incredulously. “Not when I drove you on a racetrack with Christmas lights? Or when we decorated a real peach tree? This house?” He flails his arms out in the direction of the museum we just came from.
I pick up my drink and take a sip, not wanting to crush the golden retriever sitting in front of me. “It gets cold out here, doesn’t it?” I add a theatrical shiver so he knows I’m serious and not just trying to change the subject. It is colder here than in South Carolina, but it’s still not New York cold.
“Freezing.” His flat gaze pins me to the booth and I sink into it a little to avoid the probing eyes.
Oh damn. I always thought it was cheesy in the romcom when one love interest is looking at a sunset or a particularly nice painting, and says, “Beautiful,” but the other love interest is looking at the first person and not the scene, and says, “Yeah, beautiful.”
I wish I could have a little of that “Beautiful” sentiment now, because Beau saying freezing and looking into my soul when I’m talking about the weather is way harsh.
It’s getting dark outside, so I try another atmosphere-related segue. “We should head back now, huh? So it’s not too dark on the drive back.”
Beau does that thing where he gives in to what I’m saying, but I still don’t feel like I win. “Sure. Let’s head out.” Stomach full of pimento cheese and arms laden with souvenirs, we head to the parking lot.
“Beau, the lights are on now.” I slap his arm in excitement. Okay, now the Christmas moment is perfect.
But I spoke too soon.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Because when we’re walking to the tree to get a Christmas selfie, I feel a cold wet pinch on my cheek.
I gasp. “Beau. Did you organize this?” A few snowflakes follow their friend, a light dusting on my upturned face. The perfect amount for a Christmas moment but not hard enough to be an inconvenience.
He’s shaking his head at me, smiling at my enthusiasm. “I really wish I could take credit for this and that you could live life thinking I’m powerful enough to control the weather, but this is just winter in Asheville.”
“You should have taken the credit when you had the chance.”
“Honesty is important.”
“Honesty makes you a chump who I don’t think controls the weather.”
Beau, using a now familiar move against me, shakes his head at me again and doesn’t say anything.
