The Wish Maker (The Billionaires 0f Silicon Forest Book 2) Page 9

  A good excuse.

  Wes ignored the mocking voice inside his head. “You’ll find a way to use them.”

  She nodded. “Oh, look, the choir is about to perform.”

  Next to the large community Christmas tree, a group of high schoolers wore red scarves and Santa hats. They sang “Silent Night.”

  A thoughtful expression formed on Paige’s face. “I wish I could sing like that.”

  “Everyone can sing.”

  “Not everyone can sing well.” She blew out a breath that hung on the air. “Dogs howl if I try.”

  He laughed. “You’re joking.”

  “Not really. I’m not tone-deaf, but I can’t carry a tune.”

  “And here I thought you were perfect.”

  “Not even close, but thank you.” She motioned to the coffee shop up the block. “Are you thirsty?”

  Wes knew where she was going with this. Might as well play along. “I could go for a peppermint hot chocolate.”

  Her eyes widened. “Me, too.”

  She was so easy to please. He’d confirmed the shop sold Paige’s favorite. “Come on.”

  They made their way through the festival-goers. He bumped into her. “Sorry.”

  “It’s crowded.”

  Other than a conference he’d attended this fall in Las Vegas and the mall a few nights ago, Wes hadn’t been around this many people since the cancer. He fought the urge to hold her hand so he wouldn’t lose her.

  “Do you want another chestnut?” she asked.

  “I might get bumped and drop it.”

  “You might, but I won’t.”

  With her gloved hand, Paige fed him a chestnut. She was being playful. It meant nothing. But the act felt intimate. Worse, he enjoyed the feeling. His gaze met hers before dropping to her lips, so soft and pink and…

  I want to kiss her.

  The thought reverberated inside him. Wes wanted to kiss her more than he’d wanted to do anything for a very long time. He swallowed.

  She smiled softly. “Thanks for inviting me to the celebration. I can't remember when I've had this much fun.”

  “Me, either.” Wes ground out the words.

  We can each look all we want but no touching.

  He remembered what Craig had told him. Kissing would be considered touching, right?

  “Oh, look.” Paige motioned ahead. “The line is out the door at the coffee shop.”

  “Knowing the owner, Muffy will have twice the number of baristas working behind the counter, and it’ll go fast.”

  He was correct. Muffy kept customers moving. Fifteen minutes later, they had their drinks—each topped with whipped cream, chocolate sauce, and sprinkles—and were listening to the choir.

  Paige took a sip. “It doesn’t get much better than this.”

  Wes could go anywhere, buy anything his heart desired, but at this moment, being in this small town with Paige with a warm drink in his hand was all he wanted.

  A dab of whipped cream stuck to the tip of her nose. “Oops.”

  “Allow me.” He wiped it off with his napkin. “Do you usually wear your drink?”

  Laughter lit her eyes. “This is the second time with you.”

  He grinned. “That’s why I asked.”

  “The answer is no, unless it’s hot chocolate with whipped cream. Then, the odds are fifty-fifty.”

  “We’ll have to see what happens next time.”

  Whoops. Had he asked her out again?

  “It’s on,” Paige challenged.

  Okay, she was game. Knowing that brought more relief than it should. Being with Paige made him feel lighter—happier. He didn’t want the feeling to end.

  Maybe they could go out when they returned to Portland. They didn’t need a label. “Just tell me when and I’ll—”

  “Wes,” a woman called out.

  Every one of his muscles bunched. His spine went ramrod stiff. He hadn’t heard that voice in over two years, but he recognized it immediately.

  Craig, his features hard and his gloved hands clenched, headed toward them.

  Paige touched Wes’s arm. “Are you okay?”

  He tried to nod but couldn’t. Instead, he stood there frozen, waiting for the inevitable to happen.

  Somehow with all the people at the festival, he could hear her footsteps getting closer.

  The lump in his throat burned. He sipped his drink, but that didn’t help. Still, drinking gave him something to do besides acknowledging her.

  “I thought it was you.” Annabelle stood next to him. “How are you, Wes?”

  He had no choice but to look at her. She wore a long parka. Hair, not as blond as it once had been, stuck out from a fleece cap.

  “Good. I’m good.” He loosened his grip on his cup before he sent hot cocoa splashing everywhere. “I didn’t know you were back in Oregon.”

  “I’m not.”

  The way she stared at him made Wes uneasy. “Still in New York?”

  “Seattle.” Annabelle wasn’t smiling. She appeared wary. “As of three months ago. I missed the first two Christmas Magic in Hood Hamlet celebrations when I was living in Manhattan, so I decided to come this year.”

  Wes peered over her shoulder, but he didn’t see anyone with her. “Are you here alone?”

  “No.”

  He waited for her to offer more info, but she didn’t. O-kay. “There’s lots to do. You’ll enjoy the tasting at Welton Wine and Chocolate.”

  Paige nodded. “Excellent chocolate.”

  Lines formed a V above Annabelle’s nose. “Dr. Regis?”

  “Hi,” Paige said.

  Annabelle’s mouth dropped open. “You… The two of you are together now?”

  “No.” The word shot out bullet-fast from Wes’s mouth. “We’re not dating.”

  As her gaze bounced between him and Paige, Annabelle raised an eyebrow. “You’re not?”

  “Of course we aren’t,” Wes said a little too adamantly. He didn’t owe Annabelle an explanation, but he wanted to explain so he didn’t hurt her again. Not that who he was with should matter two years after they broke up. “Dr. Regis is fundraising, so she’s here to meet the guys tonight.”

  Annabelle focused on Paige. “What are you raising money for?”

  “A new cancer center,” Paige said, taking a step backward.

  Annabelle’s face relaxed. “Oh, that makes sense. No offense, Dr. Regis, but I just couldn’t see Wes dating his oncologist.”

  He expected Paige to say something, but she sipped her drink instead. She’d also put another step between them. Why?

  “Are you seeing anyone?” Annabelle asked him.

  “No,” he said, nonchalantly.

  Her gaze clouded. “And the cancer?”

  “In remission.”

  Annabelle smiled. “I’m happy for you, Wes. Truly.”

  The sincerity in her voice and the way her smile reached her eyes told him she meant it. “Thanks.”

  “Nice work, Dr. Regis,” Annabelle said.

  Paige’s bright smile had vanished, but the corners of her mouth turned up slightly. “I do what I can for my patients.”

  Except he wasn’t her patient. Though in Annabelle’s mind, he still was. Wes switched his hot chocolate to his left hand. This whole conversation was awkward.

  “I hope you make the most of being healthy,” Annabelle said.

  “I’m trying.” There was so much he wanted to say. “I—”

  She raised her gloved hand. “What happened is in the past. I’ve moved on.”

  Wes nodded, taking the easy way out as he had two years ago. “Thanks.”

  “It was nice seeing you again, Wes.” Annabelle smiled at Paige. “You, too, Dr. Regis. I hope the guys come through for you with your fundraising.”

  Paige stared through her eyelashes. “Thanks.”

  “Well, Merry Christmas.” Annabelle didn’t wait for a reply. She crossed the street.

  Wes watched her disappear into the crowd. He should
have said something—made amends. Instead, he’d allowed her to walk away as she had the first time. He blew out a breath.

  Paige’s piercing gaze scanned his face. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m sorry.” Wes didn’t know what else to say.

  “You have nothing to apologize for.” Paige wasn’t frowning, but her smile hadn’t returned, either. It was as if someone had flicked a switch, draining her Christmas spirit. “You weren’t expecting to see Annabelle.”

  That was an understatement. “She caught me off guard. I had no idea she was back in the Pacific Northwest. She always loved Hood Hamlet, which explains why she’s at the celebration. I’m sorry it ruined your day.”

  “The day’s not ruined. You only spoke to her for five minutes.”

  True, but in that short time, Paige’s emotion had flip-flopped. The serious gleam in her eyes matched her expression. The bubbly Christmas elf-wannabe had turned into the competent physician who wanted to fix whatever was wrong with him.

  Too bad she couldn’t.

  Today had been about Paige having fun. He’d succeeded until Annabelle showed up, but now a black cloud hung over them. The day ruined because of the specter of his ex-girlfriend.

  But that made little sense. So what if he'd seen Annabelle? He and Paige weren’t together. Still, something had caused the change in her. Annabelle or him or a combination.

  “I see Craig,” Paige said in the doctor’s tone of hers he’d relied on over the years, but he hated hearing it again. Especially today. “He’ll drive us to your lodge. Come on.”

  She led him toward his bodyguard.

  “I’m okay,” he said.

  “Glad to hear it, but we have a big night ahead, so I want a chance to relax.”

  She was giving him an out. Wes would take it. “Let’s go home.”

  * * *

  In the guest room, Paige dressed for the benefit dinner. She’d been excited to wear the sparkly red cocktail dress. Now, all she felt was dread. The only place she wanted to be was home, covered with a fleece blanket in front of the TV.

  If only that was an option tonight.

  She zipped the back.

  Spending the day at the festival with Wes had been wonderful—a dream come true. Whether or not Christmas magic had anything to do with it, she didn’t care. All that mattered was having fun and being with him. When he suggested them getting together again, she hadn’t been sure if her snow boots were touching the ground. A part of her thought he’d wanted to go out with her. Not as friends, but something more.

  Stupid.

  When Annabelle appeared, he’d gone from smiling to shell-shocked.

  Paige’s heart had ached for him. For a few seconds.

  Until what they both said about her had left Paige hurting.

  Okay, she shouldn’t have taken their words so personally. Was she really surprised to hear them say or imply Wes wouldn’t date someone like her? Maybe she’d thought otherwise, daydreaming their perfect Hallmark-holiday-movie day might turn into reality, but she knew better now.

  Get over it, Regis.

  Throwing herself a pity-party wasn’t her style. The long shower with the fabulous waterfall showerhead had helped. She would do what she’d planned—meet Wes’s friends so she could increase her donor pool for the future.

  She caught her reflection in the mirror.

  The easy updo complemented the neckline of her dress and dangling red earrings. The gold shoes accentuated her legs, making them appear longer. Oh, the beauty of high heels. These weren’t as uncomfortable as most, so she called that a win.

  “You may not catch a billionaire’s eye, but there’s a guy out there for you.”

  Someday, it will happen.

  Not tonight, but it would.

  Just smile.

  Paige did. “Ugh, I look like a rabid animal.”

  She tried again. “Too much teeth. People will think I’m a psycho or starving.”

  This time, she kept her lips together. “Less is more will do.”

  Paige grabbed her purse and lined cape, a present from her parents, and made her way downstairs.

  Wes faced the Christmas tree.

  A frisson of nerves rippled through her.

  Just smile.

  She clutched her purse. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

  As he turned, his mouth dropped open. “Wow. You’re stunning.”

  “Thank you.” She took in his black suit and snowman-covered tie. “You look nice yourself.”

  The polite discussion wasn’t as awkward as earlier, but she missed the easy-breezy conversation.

  “Craig will drive us, so we don’t have to worry about drinking and driving,” Wes said.

  “I’m not a big drinker,” she admitted. “More than two, and I fall asleep.”

  “Lightweight,” he teased.

  “I am.”

  “Nothing wrong with that.” He shifted his weight between his feet. “Ready to go?”

  She nodded.

  Fifteen minutes later, they entered Hood Hamlet Community Center with their toy donations through double doors decorated with lighted garland. A pretty woman with blond hair sat behind a table.

  “Welcome to the Third Annual Christmas Magic Dinner,” she greeted. “I’m Carly Porter. Can I have your name, please?”

  Wes stepped forward. “Wes Lockhart and guest.”

  Carly checked her list. Her eyes widened. “Oh, you’re one of our table sponsors. Thank you for your support.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Jake, sweetie,” Carly called out. “Can you put the donations under the tree?”

  A tall, handsome man in a suit appeared through another set of doors. He took the toys from their hands and then winked at Carly. “Hey, Wes. Thanks for the donations.”

  “Happy to help,” Wes said. “We tasted your Bah Humbug Ale today. Great job with this year’s seasonal brew.”

  “Thanks.” Jake smiled. “That was my bartender Kai’s idea.”

  “Toys under the tree, oh-dear-husband-of-mine,” Carly said playfully.

  A sheepish expression flitted across Jake’s face. “I can talk about beer all night.”

  Carly nodded, looking amused. “Which is why you donated a private beer tasting at the brewery. You’ll find a table full of wonderful items up for bid in our silent auction tonight. Dinner is at seven. Dancing begins at eight.”

  Paige hadn’t danced in over a year. “Dancing sounds fun.”

  “Just ignore my two left feet,” Wes joked.

  She winked. “As long as you ignore mine.”

  With a smile, Carly handed them each a table number card. “Hold on to this. You’ll need them later. If you have questions, look for people wearing a snowflake lanyard. They’ll help you.”

  Paige glanced at hers. Table five. “Thanks.”

  Wes showed her his slip with a five written on it. “Let’s see where we’re sitting.”

  With his hand at the small of her back, he led her into the multipurpose room where Christmas music played.

  Two steps inside, she stopped. Gasped in delight.

  Fairy lights, snowflakes, and white tulle covered the walls. Flocked trees with thick red ribbon woven around the branches and covered with silver bells and star-shaped ornaments were set around the room. Silver stars and snowflakes hung from the ceiling.

  “This is gorgeous.” She surveyed the space. Not an inch had been left undecorated. “I wonder if they use the same theme every year.”

  A beautiful woman with brown hair and a snowflake lanyard came up. “We use a similar theme, but add something new each year. The bells are the addition tonight.”

  Paige thought of the bell ornaments at the children’s hospital. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” The woman extended her arm. “I’m Leanne Welton. My husband, Christian, and I chair the Christmas Magic in Hood Hamlet committee.”

  Paige shook the woman’s hand. “Paige Regis.”

&
nbsp; “Wes Lockhart,” he said. “Your husband owns the wine and chocolate store.”

  “He and his cousin Owen do,” Leanne said. “Christian and I are also with Hood Hamlet Fire and Rescue, which is how we got involved with this a couple of years ago.”

  “You’re a member of OMSAR, too,” Wes added.

  “I am.” Leanne studied his face. “You live at Hamlet Heights number eight.”

  “Good memory.”

  She shrugged. “It’s a small town.”

  “A charming one,” Paige said.

  Wes nodded. “She hasn’t been to Hood Hamlet before.”

  “I hope you’re enjoying yourself,” Leanne said.

  “I am.” If everyone was as friendly as Carly and Leanne, tonight might be fun. “I'm looking forward to tonight.”

  “Enjoy the evening.” Leanne motioned to the round tables covered with white linens, silver toppers, and pretty centerpieces with flowers, eight silver stars, a table number written in silver, and red ribbon. “Eat, drink, and be merry. Don’t forget about the silent auction. The money goes to a good cause.”

  As she went toward table five, Paige glanced over her shoulder at Wes. “The people putting this on seem nice.”

  “They are,” he said. “Leanne was one of the paramedics called to the lodge the first year I was sick.”

  He’d ended up hospitalized because of that. “Everything’s behind you now.”

  Wes nodded, but doubt remained in his eyes.

  “It’s true.” She touched his arm. “Don’t think about the past. Let’s focus on having fun tonight.”

  Another nod.

  Their table was located at the edge of the dance floor. Two chairs remained empty. Three couples filled the other six. The three men stood to greet them. She recognized one—Blaise Mortenson.

  One man who looked vaguely familiar laughed. “You live the closest but are the last one here. I should have taken the bet.”

  As the other men handed over money to Blaise, whom she recognized immediately, he shrugged.

  She had a feeling these guys competed against each other with everything.

  “Hey,” Wes said. “I wanted to make a grand entrance.”

  “Only Santa and I get to make grand entrances,” Henry said from the other table. He wore a Christmas-inspired brocade jacket, a red damask vest, and a holly-patterned tie.