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“I’m well aware,” Waverly responded with a yawn. She didn’t need to hear his credentials again. It was unfortunate he couldn’t take the hint. “And I hope for Christmas you get someone who truly values you.”
Anson leaned his hip against the long table. The ice cubes in the crystal punch bowl jingled in the red liquid. “What I really want is you.”
“Can you please not do this here?” Waverly asked, hugging her binder close to her chest.
“What?” Anson actually had the nerve to act surprised. His eyes lit up, and his brows rose. “Where would you like to do this? On a date?”
“No, thank you,” Waverly answered quickly.
“We have a good time when we’re together, Waverly.”
“You have a great time showing me off like a bauble,” Waverly clarified once more.
“The Christmas dance for the grown-ups is the twenty-second. What do you say we go together? ‘The Mayor and the Beauty Queen’ makes for a nice headline, don’t you think?”
Anson advanced. Waverly refused to be intimidated by his nonverbal threat. She was about to square her shoulders when a set of beefy hands pressed down on hers and spun her around. Dominic’s cocky grin spread before he dipped his head and pressed his lips against hers. Unlike the kiss last night outside his garage, this was friendlier—a peck or even a soft press of lips against hers. And she wanted more.
Dominic pulled away. His finger touched a spot just under her lip where she figured her lipstick might have smeared.
“Excuse me?” Anson asked, oblivious of what he’d just said to her just before Dominic came to her rescue. “While I understand you played handmaiden a few months ago for Miss Southwood, are you trying to get her kicked off the pageant circuit for violating the morality clause?”
Remembering they weren’t alone, Waverly stepped beside Dominic, somehow melting into the crook of his arm. Dominic wrapped his arm around her in a protective manner. For a moment she thought he was giving Anson a thumbs-up, but she followed Anson’s glance to the ceiling above them.
“Mistletoe. It is tradition.” Dominic explained. “I’d get that checked out, Anson.”
Anson’s dark eyes narrowed on Dominic. Waverly practically felt his rage vibrate on the thin gray carpeted floor. “What am I supposed to get checked out?”
“Your slow response to things.” Dominic sighed. He slipped his hand into his pocket and extracted a business card. “Dr. Rayland is the best CTE doc around.”
“What?”
“Chronic traumatic encephalopathy, Anson.” Dominic pressed his forefinger to his temple. “I understand you played a lot of football in your day. Maybe you should get it checked out.”
Stiffening, Anson shook his head. He crumpled the card in his large hands. “What makes you think I need him?”
“Well, for starters, you overlooked the email request I sent to you—” Dominic shook his head “—and then you didn’t even take advantage of the mistletoe with this beautiful woman standing underneath it.”
Waverly, smitten with Dominic, stood by wordlessly. The peck was friendly and innocent enough but still hinted at the underlying desire still bubbling between them. She had so many things to say and just as she opened her mouth, she was called up to the podium. Dominic offered her a wink as she apologetically walked away.
Chapter 8
The morning after the council meeting, Waverly woke up with a stretch. It wasn’t until sometime after midnight she’d fallen asleep. Every time she’d closed her eyes she felt Dominic’s lips against hers. Her body ached for his touch again. Hell, had Kenzie not interrupted them last night, Waverly could have easily been talked into going home with him—Morality Committee be damned.
She checked the time on her cell phone and slipped out of bed. In her fuzzy pink slippers and white nightgown, Waverly went toward the bathroom for her morning routine. Afterward, she got into a pair of shredded pale denim shorts, a red-and-white-striped shirt and one of her favorite tiaras she’d won when she was switched from toddler to teen pageants.
Waverly headed into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Though the two-bedroom condo belonged to Lexi, Waverly had started to make the place home. Funny how when Waverly first came to Southwood, it was to hide from the world, but now she was invested in the community.
Something was missing in the condo. Waverly glanced around the spotless room. About fifty more calendars were spread out conveyor-belt-style for Waverly to assemble today. Then she realized there was a lack of coffee smell filling the air. She headed into the small kitchen area and sighed in despair. The green lights of the microwave flashed an odd time. From the numbers she gathered the power had gone out four hours ago, which meant her automatic coffee maker didn’t go off. There was no way she could finish the project without a cup of brew.
The spacious living room with the long ivory curtains drawn open gave the perfect view of downtown Southwood. Green wires spilled out of a box, and with the breeze flowing in from the balcony, red and green reflections of the bulbs were splayed across the white carpet. Now that the Thanksgiving holidays were over, she was officially able to start decorating her
balcony.
A knock came at the door at the same time her cell phone buzzed. Her mother’s face appeared on the phone screen. Waverly grinned to herself. She loved that picture of her mother as a beauty queen in her teens. Waverly slid the button over to answer the call.
“Well, I was beginning to worry,” said Jillian in her cool voice.
“Hi, Ma.” Waverly sighed and lifted herself on tiptoe to peek through the peephole. Her eyes met the emblem of an animated smiling cup of coffee. No one bearing coffee could be dangerous.
