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“No, no, I insist.” Brady sent him a sharp smile. “You go have your exciting night. Wouldn’t dream of taking fun away from a guy like you. I’ll be the one she needs. Count on it.”
Well, the tension in her office certainly seemed to thicken. “Elliott has the Santa costume,” she told Brady. “You can go get it from him.”
“I’ll do that.” Brady didn’t move.
He and Rowen had locked eyes.
She wanted to roll her eyes. They were both acting so weird.
“Don’t think I got your name,” Rowen finally said. He took a few lurching steps toward Brady. Not his usual smooth style at all. He held out his hand. “I’m Rowen Welch. And you are—”
“Brady.”
Just that. Nothing else.
Rowen’s fingers closed around Brady’s in a fierce shake. “You a new client?”
“Nope.” Brady released him.
“A new agent then?” A nod from Rowen. “Welcome to the company. I was the new agent on deck just a month ago—”
“Not an agent.”
“Then why are you here?” Rowen’s voice had lost a little friendliness. Not that he’d had a whole lot to begin with.
Brady repositioned himself so that he could put his gaze straight on Noelle. “I’m here for her.”
***
“You’re gonna be Santa?” Laughter exploded from Elliott. “You? You barely even put up a Christmas tree!”
Actually, he hadn’t put up one. Not in the last three years.
“You don’t holiday shop,” Elliott continued as he seemingly made his way through a list. “At all.”
Not true. “I give you a bottle of whiskey every year. If that’s not holiday shopping, what is?”
“You don’t—”
“Do you have the costume or not?” Brady groused.
Elliott heaved up a box from beside his desk. A white beard dangled on the right edge. “Oh, I’ve got it.” More laughter. “I cannot wait to see you dressed up. Youdoknow that part of the night is spent letting people pose with you for pics? Adults, kids, they’ll all be coming to see Santa to tell him what they want this year.” He plopped the box on a nearby chair. The beard fluttered to the floor.“Youhave to be jolly. You have to be in high spirits. You have to make their holiday dreams come true.” More laughter. “You are going to be hilarious.”
“I am so glad that I can amuse you.” Mental note—his best friend was an asshole. But then, so was Brady and that was probably why the two men got along so well. He began to poke around in the box. “Who was the dick in her office?”
“Say again?” Elliott seemed to be choking.
He’d found the battered black belt. And a giant red hat. “The dick,” he repeated, “in her office. Trying to act like he was doing Noelle a favor by playing Santa at a freakingcharityevent. Who does shit like that?”
Silence.
His head lifted. Turned toward Elliott.
Elliott wasn’t laughing any longer. He appeared to be gawking.
“What?” Brady demanded.
“You sound jealous.”
