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A record screeches in his brain. A full month? His cheeks and neck and ears suddenly flame with heat. Unfortunately for him, the fair complexion he inherited from both his parents wasn’t accompanied by their disinterested composure. He’s sure his cheeks have gone all splotchy.
“Oh, I—” Ves is about to explain he’ll be too busy with the house to throw himself into the spirit of things in a community he’s only temporarily part of when he reads the expectant looks on their faces. Didn’t he just tell Karl he wanted to do right by Maeve? Declining their invitation is the exact opposite of that.
“You’re family,” Dave says with conviction, catching Ves’s hesitation. “You should be a part of it.”
Adam gives Ves an encouraging grin.
A gust of wind slams into him like a wall and slithers cold air past his cashmere rollneck sweater. Ghosting down his neck, his spine. He hates being put on the spot, and yet... there is no other answer he can give, other than: “Okay.”
An hour later, Ves is still reeling from his “Okay” when Elisha lets herself in without knocking, finding him in the kitchen with his notebook open, pen held loosely between his fingers, and eyes glazed over.
Seeing her pink nose and ruffled hair, he startles. When he gave her the filming permission, he intended to leave things in her capable hands. But as long as he’s here, they’re sort of in it together. A not wholly unpleasant notion, but not the one he signed up for, either.
“I know for a fact I locked that door,” Ves says without looking up.
“You did.” There’s a creak as she sits down next to him. “My parents have a spare key.”
“I’ll be wanting that back.” He holds out his hand, palm up.
She hands it over, along with his scarf, neatly folded. “A little birdie told me that you’re going to be enjoying our Winter Festival while you’re here. How did you get strong-armed into all this mandatory fun?”
“Maybe I’m not as predictable as you think,” he says archly.
Elisha’s lips tic up before flattening back down, barely restraining a grin. “Uh-huh.”
“Who told you? Your dad?”
“Nope.”
“Granddad?”
She seems amused. “Again, no.”
“I give up.”
“Solana.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “She wasn’t even there.”
“She’s dating Adam. We’re in, like, eight group chats. And every single one is buzzing about you.”
He waits for her to shoot him a grin, to be included in the joke. When she doesn’t, he stares, absolutely perturbed. “Wait, that’s not hyperbolic?”
“That’s the Piney Peaks gossip grapevine for you,” she chirps.
“That’s disturbing,” he counters.
“Ves, it’s a small town. Good news travels fast.”
Forget what everyone else thinks—does Elisha think it’s good news? His skin itches under his sweater, which, at its Bergdorf’s price tag, it absolutely should not do.
She leans closer to look at his notebook, bringing the heady scent of cocoa butter and mint. “What are you working on?”
Part of him wants to slam his palm over the paper, but she’s already tugged it away. In his sharp, slightly slanted handwriting, he’s made a list of things he could write about.
She sweeps over the page, landing on the last line. “Why have you written journey, crossed it out, quest, crossed it out, adventure, crossed it out? Aren’t these all the same thing?”
He straightens, groaning at the ache in his back. “It’s a brain dump. Anything that comes to mind, I write it down. At the end of the exercise, I weed through and hopefully find what I’m looking for.”
