“You’ll get used to it.”

“Do I have to send you things too?”

“No. I expect nothing but the pleasure of your company.”

I took a deep breath. “Okay. Get me a contract.”

“Great,” he said, standing. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You’re not having lunch?”

“No. I have a deposition in an hour that I still need to prepare for. I just came down to see you.”

Something about the way he said that pleased me. “All right, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Elise. I don’t think you’ll regret it.”

A minute later, a food court worker said to me, “You have a cute husband.”

“He’s not my husband,” I said. “He’s . . .” I paused. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“Lucky you,” she said.

Chapter Four

CHAPTER

Four

I’m not sure what I’ve gotten myself into with this contract, but I’m still looking for the fine print.

Elise Dutton’s Diary

The next day Nicholas walked into the food court carrying a leather Coach briefcase. I was sitting at my usual table, waiting for him. He smiled when he saw me. “Shall we eat at Cafe Rio?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said.

We walked together up to the restaurant’s counter. “I’ve never eaten here before,” he said. “What’s good?”

“The sweet pork salad is pretty much my mainstay,” I said.

“Two sweet pork salads,” Nicholas said to the woman who was rolling out tortillas.

“Pinto beans or black beans?” she asked.

Nicholas deferred to me. “I didn’t realize there would be a quiz. I’ll let you take over.”

“Pinto beans,” I said. “With the house dressing. Cheese, no pico.”

“I’ll have the same,” he said.

“Drink?”

“The sugar-free lemonade,” I said.

“One sugar-free lemonade and a Coke,” Nicholas said.

He paid for our meals, then, while I got our drinks, he carried our tray over to a table.

“This is pretty good,” he said. “I can see why you have it every day.”

“It may be the most delicious salad ever made,” I replied.

After we had eaten for a few minutes, he reached into his briefcase and brought out some documents. “Here you go,” he said, holding out the papers. “The contract.”

“This looks so official.”

“It’s what I do,” he said.

I looked it over.

MISTLETOE CONTRACT

“Why mistletoe?”

“You know how, at Christmastime, people show affection under mistletoe to people they’re not necessarily affectionate with?”

“That’s clever,” I said. “Can we change the word contract? It sounds too . . . formal.”

“What would you prefer?”

I thought a moment. “How about promise?”

“Done,” he said, striking a line through the word contract and penning in the rest. “The Mistletoe Promise.”

I looked over the agreement.

MISTLETOE CONTRACT PROMISE

This service agreement is made effective as of November 6th by and between

Elise Dutton (Lessor) and Nicholas Derr (Lessee).

“How did you know my last name?”