Unfortunately, that’s when a growly voice asks, “Where are you heading in such a rush?”
I’m actually surprised it took this long for Wyatt to turn back up again. He steps into my path, essentially trapping me between a table, the wall, and his body, then lifts his brows, going for the clueless bystander look. But I know the malicious brain that lurks behind that stern, pretty face, just like I know how empty that cavity underneath his rib cage is.
“Get out of my way, asshole,” I say between clenched teeth.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, ma’am. I just came to taste your”—he glances at my tray—“food lumps.”
“Crab puffs.” I yank the tray out of reach of his grabby little fingers. Grabby big fingers. Long, clever, grabby fingers.
Wait, nope, we’re not thinking those thoughts tonight. I force a sweet smile and say, “What a shame. I’m all out.”
His disbelieving laugh is loud enough that the trio standing to my left glances our way. “Demonstrably untrue.”
“Demonstrably not your business.” I keep my voice perky. I’m an elf, after all. Holly fucking jolly.
Then the sound of coughing and hacking fills the room again, and we turn to watch Howard sucking down his drink and fanning his face with his free hand.
“What the hell did you do?” Wyat asks nervously.
“I changed my mind. Want one?” I hold the tray toward him, grinning at the thought of Wyatt red-faced and crying man-tears from the pain.
“CJ,” he growls.
“Wyatt,” I growl back. “Wait, actually, take two.” The undercurrent of challenge in my tone has his eyes widening. His gaze drops to the tray, then to the table where Howard’s now scrubbing his tongue with a napkin while his guests look on in confusion.
“So that’s your plan? You’re going to kill my boss?” He leans forward and gives the closest crab puff a sniff. “What’s in here, rat poison?”
I yank the tray away, grateful we’re standing at the edge of the room and partially hidden by the abundance of Christmas trees.
“If I was in the business of killing men who deserve it, rest assured you’d no longer be on this earth to know about it,” I say. “Now stop making a scene.”
When he responds by crowding me even more, I turn my head to glare, and my heartbeat picks up at how close this brings our faces.
“Thing is, I have my own plans, and I don’t want you fucking them up.” His voice is so low that he has to lean even closer to be heard over Max and the rest of the band wailing away on “Jingle Bell Rock.” “Whatever you thought you were doing tonight, just drop it and walk away.”
My nose brushes his jaw, and I suck in a breath that isn’t nearly as calming as it needs to be. “You drop it. You walk away. Or I swear to god, I’ll tell everyone that you just grabbed my ass.”
We’re so close that I feel his jaw tic and the hot rush of his aggravated breath. “Hard to avoid with a skirt this short.”
Heat prickles over my skin. “Oh, so I’m asking for it?” I narrow my eyes at him. “I will scream this place down if you don’t step away.”
He inhales hard, then lifts his hands and backs off. I’d never actually do that, and it kills me that Wyatt apparently believes I would. Then again, thinking the worst of me has always been his problem.
Although he’s stepped back, we’re still locked in a staring contest. Unfortunately, I’m the one who blinks first. “You’re not going to drop this, are you?”
“No.” His jaw bunches. “So we may as well get this sorted out.”
That strong hand finds its favorite spot on my lower back again. I consider digging my heels in or smashing my tray over his head, but we clearly do need to get on the same page about what’s happening tonight, so I let myself be herded toward the hallway. Still, it’s not in me to give him the upper hand.
“Are you always this smooth when it comes to charming women?”
His sigh brushes the exposed nape of my neck. “Only with you, Parrish.”
Eight
December, Four Years Ago
Wyatt
