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Mary Paige took the leash. “I’ll take her.”
“I can’t believe he shoved his dog off on me. And not only that, but he gave me this atrocious elf hat to wear.” Brennan held up a green felt hat with little jingle bells dripping from the ends.
One of the other elves heard Brennan’s comment and handed Mary Paige her own jingling elf hat. “For you, too. All of Santa’s elves must be properly attired.”
Mary Paige plopped the hat on her head, arranging her hair so it didn’t stick out crazily, then stepped onto the trolley, waiting for Izzy to navigate the steps.
She wasn’t going to wait for the big grumpy elf.
Why hadn’t she laughed at him and sent him running? What was the attraction of riding a streetcar with a man who hated dogs, hated Christmas, and thought she was wishy-washy?
Nothing.
Okay, she knew she lied to herself because she was interested in Brennan Henry.
Too interested.
She sat on a wooden bench three rows back, making room for Izzy to stand at the window if she desired. Instead, Izzy curled into a little dachshund ball in Mary Paige’s lap. The hat tilted crookedly onto the dog’s neck, but Mary Paige didn’t try to fix it. Izzy closed her eyes and sighed.
The bench creaked as Brennan sat beside her, and Mary Paige tried not to feel pleasure at the brush of his sleeve against her arm, or the warm male scent that emanated from him. She tried to look nonchalant. Like she had no interest in a sexy soon-to-be CEO with a crappy attitude.
“You’re going to let that dog sit in your lap? Won’t it get hair on your coat?” He still hadn’t put on his elf hat.
“I own a lint brush. Plus, Izzy is tired.”
“I’m tired, too. Can I curl up in your lap?”
“No, because you’re not a good boy.”
“But I can be.” His expression was pure wolf…and made those tingles start again.
“Probably not.” Mary Paige waved as the Town Car drove away. Then the streetcar jerked and started forward with a zipping sound. “Better put on your hat. Time to make merry.”
Brennan looked at the offending object in his hand and sighed. “Fine.”
He shoved it on his head, but it was too small and didn’t fit properly. Brennan looked like a cartoon character—sort of like SpongeBob when he put on his ball cap.
“Here, let me fix it for you,” she said, tugging the locks of hair into a more appealing look. She felt something inside her stir at the feel of his hair beneath her fingertips, at the raspiness of the stubble on his upper jaw.
Lord have mercy, the man smelled good.
And his skin was soft for a guy. Maybe he moisturized. Or maybe she hadn’t been with a man in a long time and had started making Brennan into some kind of fantasy guy.
She pulled one last piece toward his ear and then examined him critically. “That will do.”
Then she made the mistake of looking into his eyes.
What she saw there had her swallowing hard.
Unabashed desire shone from those depths, and something ignited between them. She felt it. He felt it. Hell, Izzy probably felt it.
The dog had to have because she unfurled and crawled into Brennan’s lap.
Eye contact was broken when Brennan looked at the dog, who’d settled with another doggy sigh. “I can’t believe I’m going down St. Charles wearing this stupid hat while holding this fleabag. Disgrace, I tell you.”
“Hope your grandfather took her for a constitutional.”
“What?” Brennan wore the same expression as when his grandfather had handed the dog off to him.
