His Stand-In Holiday Girlfriend
Christmas in the City, Book 1
Kasey Stockton
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by Kasey Stockton
Cover design by Blue Water Books
First print edition: October 2019
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations for the purpose of a book review.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Next in the Christmas in the City series
Also by Kasey Stockton
About the Author
Chapter One
Do not trip. You will not trip. You are walking in very tall heels along the brightly lit hallway in front of all your new coworkers on your very first day, Ellie, and you absolutely, positively will not fall flat on your face.
Balancing two drink trays with five coffees each—one safely nestled into each compartment with a fifth precariously shoved in the center—Ellie made her way down the row of desks toward the long, clear glass boardroom housing all seven executives and their two guests.
Perhaps she should have refrained from ordering that tenth drink, but after the mayhem in The Bean and the pushing and shoving she endured to get the executives and their guests the best coffee in all of San Francisco, the least they could do was buy her a tea for her troubles.
And it was peppermint, which was the perfect tea for the very first day of December.
Also known as the beginning of the Christmas season. Ellie’s absolute favorite holiday. Sure, that was common, but this was different. Ellie didn’t just enjoy Christmas. She really, really loved Christmas.
The clear glass walls showed the meeting already in session, and Ellie slipped into the room as her boss stood at the head of the table, going over the basic description the museum had supplied when they’d approached her firm about collaborating for a charity Christmas gala.
She scanned the idea boards and her stomach turned. These weren’t concepts for a Christmas party. They were concepts for a high-end fashion show or movie premiere celebration. If Ellie had the authority to decorate the gala on her own, she would successfully create a holiday party done right—Santa’s workshop, maybe. Or a winter wonderland.
Much like her own apartment was going to look. She’d gotten the most gorgeous tinsel garland from Target on clearance the year before and she was dying to get home from work and set it up.
A hand came up and snapped in her face, jarring Ellie from her daydreams of decorating the apartment. It would’ve been completed already, of course, if Kayla hadn’t forbid any decorations before December.
It really was the worst living with a scrooge, sometimes. Even if that scrooge was her best friend.
“Hello?” the male voice called, snapping his hand in her face once again. His salt-and-peppered hair was styled ridiculously high for an older man; he was clearly trying to make himself look younger with a hip style. Maybe someone should tell him he could shave years off his face if he dyed his hair instead.
“Coffee Girl,” he said, his voice as arrogant as his suit, “give me my cappuccino.”
“Right, sorry.” Ellie set the drink trays on the end of the glass table, spinning the cups to read their labels and pass them out accordingly. Her boss, the balding man who stood at the head of the table on the other side of the room waited, his fists balled and resting on the glass tabletop in a gorilla stance. He wore an expression of veiled irritation, but she persisted in handing out the coffee.
Why was he waiting? He could speak over her if he wished.
After stepping carefully around the table and setting a cardboard to-go cup in front of Mr. Gaines, the gorilla man, Ellie hurried to the other end of the table, stacked the drink carriers and tossed them into the trash can. Taking an unobtrusive seat in the corner at the far end of the room, Ellie cupped her tea with both hands and waited for the meeting to resume.
It was her first day, and it was not going as smoothly as she’d hoped. But Mr. Gaines had told her when he’d taken her on as an intern for Harver Allen Design that she was welcome to sit in on meetings and attend the gala preparations herself to learn.
So why was he giving her such an odd look right now?
He stood tall, sipping his coffee before slapping it down on the table. “We’ve got to step it up. The last two mockups were both mediocre and I think we are going entirely the wrong direction.” His gaze turned sharply to the man on the far end of the table who was evaluating the sticker on the side of his cup which gave the details of his chosen drink. “Garrison, that’s you. What is going on in your department?”
Ellie brought her own cup to her lips and blew softly into the drinking hole. Scalding her tongue was not on her list of things to do for the day.
The room really smelled like coffee. Ellie didn’t love the scent, but her peppermint was helping to mask it. It almost smelled like a peppermint mocha, and that made her want her tea even more. So she blew into the hole again.
Mr. Gaines didn’t wait for Garrison to respond but kept speaking. “I think I adequately portray the museum’s feelings when I remind everyone in the room that the museum is full of modern art. The decor for this event needs to be synonymous with the vibe of the museum. The vibes they’ve been feeling from your team’s mockups are not at all modern.”
“If I may?” a man asked. He was one of the visitors from the museum’s board, sitting beside a woman in a smart red suit. Her dark hair was pinned back in a flawless French twist and her intelligent gaze meant business.
The museum man continued after Mr. Gaines flicked a nod in his direction. “Our patrons expect something new and edgy when they step through our doors. The purpose of modern art is to draw out fresh emotions. The Christmas gala needs to mirror our ideals.”
Mr. Gaines nodded. “We want to avoid the typical, classical Christmas.”
The female museum correspondent stood, crossing the room to point at the mockups sitting on an easel at the front of the room. “Lose the fake snow completely; we live in San Francisco. Give us a young, hot Santa with a trimmed beard. Forget the reindeer and set up a team of Great Danes.”
Dogs? She wanted to replace Santa’s reindeer with dogs? And a trimmed beard? What was that about? Santa didn’t have time for that. He was too busy checking his list.
Ellie shook her head, disgusted. What would this woman suggest next, giving Santa a topknot and putting Mrs. Claus in a minidress?
Searching the table for the men’s reactions to this farce, Ellie stopped short on Garrison, the head of design. He watched her curiously through narrowed blue eyes, his fingers spinning his coffee cup slowly on the frosted glass table. Everyone else seemed intent on listening to Mr. Gaines and the couple from the museum bounce ideas back and forth, but Garrison was locked on her as
though he was a biologist studying a new species—and Ellie was the species.
She wasn’t going to let the pointed attention slide unaddressed. Bringing her cup up to salute him, Ellie took a long sip, eager for the peppermint to hit her taste buds. But peppermint wasn’t all that filled her mouth. Laced with coffee and something else—chocolate?—she spat out the full mouth of liquid she’d sucked in, spraying the conference room floor and Garrison’s shoes, who sat closest to her at the end of the long table.
She stared wide-eyed at the mess she’d created, and the men and women in suits who watched her with expressions ranging from shock to humor.
“Um,” she said, standing, “I’ll fetch something to clean that up.”
Tossing the coffee into the trash can, she heard Garrison say from behind her, “If you want to give my drink to me…well, never mind now.”
She cringed, shooting an apologetic look over her shoulder. Was that why he had stared at her? Had their drinks been switched?
Pausing with the door open she contemplated asking for her tea. She could really use it right now. But the glare from Mr. Gaines spoke volumes and she scurried out of the room, leaving her tea behind.
Well, that could have gone better. Her very first meeting on her very first day, and she completely bungled it. Sighing, she hurried through the row of desks, slipping around the corner and stopping on the glass bridge. Leaning back against the wall and looking out over the wide, open space below, she wondered if a bridge made entirely of clear glass was structurally sound. There was a courtyard below with tables and a cafe, and the people looked sleek and chic and prepared to work in a grand, architecturally elite building.
Closing her eyes in an effort to block the horrible memory for a moment, she grunted. Stomping her foot in a very undignified manner, her heel rang out against the glass. If only there was a pillow nearby she could bury her face in and scream out her frustrations.
She was not making the best first impression. Spitting someone else’s coffee everywhere during a meeting with one of the firm’s largest clients was not a great way to start out.
“You okay?” a voice asked, startling Ellie into opening her eyes. She looked to her left and noticed a young, hipster guy leaning out of another glass conference room. His thick-rimmed glasses were sliding down his nose and she turned to glance over her shoulder.
Great. She hadn’t paused on just a hallway with a bridge overlook. She’d paused in front of another glass room. Only this time, it was full of young-looking professionals.
“Yeah,” she said, swallowing. “I’m fine. Sorry for the show.”
His chocolate-colored eyes watched her pityingly for a moment before she spun away. His concern was sweet, but it was more than she could bear at the moment.
Ellie crossed the bridge swiftly. Stopping at the front receptionist’s desk in the foyer, Ellie paused, slapping her hands on the counter. “I made a huge mess. Is there a guy I can call?”
The receptionist was petite with a blunt blonde hairstyle and large princess-like eyes. “A guy?” she repeated.
“Yeah, like a guy. You know?”
The receptionist’s huge blue eyes blinked at Ellie uncomprehendingly and she wondered if the woman was doing it on purpose.
“Like a janitor?” the receptionist finally asked.
“Yes,” Ellie responded. The lady wasn’t doing blondes a favor. “Someone to call to clean up the mess in Conference Room A.”
“Sure thing.” Picking up the phone, she dialed an extension and waited, shooting Ellie a perfunctory smile. “Hi. Yes, it’s me, Cassie. Can you send Harold to Conference Room A, please? There’s a mess.” Pausing, she put her hand over the receiver and glanced up. “What kind of mess?”
“Um…coffee. All over the floor.”
Cassie repeated it into the phone and hung up. “Harold will be right up,” she told Ellie.
“Thanks.”
Turning, Ellie walked back across the bridge and through the glass-lined hallway like she had only thirty minutes before, only this time without the ten extra drinks. She groaned softly, regretting ordering that extra peppermint tea.
There never would have been a mix-up between her own beverage and Garrison’s if she hadn’t had a beverage to begin with. The hipsters in the design room watched her walk by again with the solemn looks of those who pitied a lesser species and she picked up her pace to pass them quickly.
Ellie had not completed her bachelor’s degree at San Francisco State University simply to spit coffee all over the board room and then hide. She was here for real world experience. She needed to swallow her embarrassment and get back in there.
The sterile office with nothing but glass walls and modern, white, spinning chairs was not helping her Christmas spirit, though. And that was a feat, for Ellie had the ability to feel the magic of Christmas always. It was innate.
Coming around the corner, she paused before Conference Room A as she witnessed the attendees shaking one another’s hands and preparing to leave.
She’d missed the whole thing.
And to make matters even more awful, a man wearing a charcoal gray jumpsuit was currently mopping the mess Ellie had spewed all over the floor.
Some of the men in suits filed past her toward their own offices, leaving Mr. Gaines, Garrison and the man and woman from the museum in the conference room.
Drawing in a breath, Ellie straightened her shoulders. It was pointless to hover outside of the room. Pushing the glass door open, she stepped inside and scooted past the janitor, approaching the group on the other end of the room. Garrison glanced over his shoulder and held her gaze, raising his eyebrow. A small blush crept onto Ellie’s cheeks and she quickly looked away from him.
“I’ll have my team formulate the demos right away and forward them for approval,” Garrison said, his voice deeper and more business-like than Ellie had remembered.
The museum executive pulled out his phone, smoothing down his mustache with one hand while he stared at the screen. “I need things finalized within the next week. We are just swamped, so Monica will be working with you from here on out.”
“It won’t be a problem,” Mr. Gaines said. He snapped his fingers, garnering Ellie’s attention. “Natalie. Grab the schedule from Cassie and double check the gala has priority over every department.”
“It’s Ellie,” she clarified.
Mr. Gaines stared at her as though she’d sprouted an elf hat and a jingle to go with it. Names, apparently, were irrelevant to him.
By the time Garrison and the museum executives turned to stare, she said, “I’ll get to it right away.”
Scurrying from the conference room, she bent her head and used her arm to keep the design team from staring at her as she crossed the bridge toward the foyer once again.
“Hey Cassie,” Ellie said, approaching the front desk, “I need access to the schedule.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Cassie said. Her sleek, brown eyebrows rose on her forehead, proving the artificiality of the color of her hair.
Ellie sucked in a breath, leaning both elbows on the high countertop of the reception desk and dropping her face in her hands. “I’m sorry. I’m overwhelmed. It’s my first day.”
“I know,” she said. “I processed your paperwork.”
Peeking through her fingers, Ellie watched Cassie focus on her computer.
“Mr. Gaines,” Ellie began. “He mentioned in my interview that I could get involved in the projects but all I’ve been asked for so far is to fetch coffee and check schedules.” She stopped herself just in time before adding, Both of which are your jobs.
Cassie snapped her gum. “I emailed you access to the calendar so you shouldn’t need to come back here.”
Ellie was surprised by the curt attitude. They were both grunts, so shouldn’t they have some level of camaraderie? She’d tried to chat with the girl, but now Cassie was engrossed in her phone and Ellie had been summarily dismissed.
It would have been less ann
oying if Cassie had simply explained that she was busy or something. Well, this was work. Ellie told herself she didn’t need to make friends with everyone.
Or anyone, apparently, except for that hipster design guy who shot pitiful eyes out the window every time Ellie walked past it.
Training her eyes on the floor, she sped across the bridge, past the design room and ran straight into someone.
“Oof.”
“Sorry!” Ellie said at once, grabbing the guy’s forearms to keep herself from falling over. When she glanced up and caught Garrison’s amused gaze, she wanted to fall into a hole.
Instead, she released him at once and took a healthy step back.
He shot his hand out. “Brady Garrison.”
She took his hand, careful to give him a firm handshake like her grandpa taught her to do. “Ellie Shaw.”
“Welcome to the firm, Ellie Shaw.”
“Oh, you could tell I was new?” she asked. “Was it the spitting coffee or the brilliant moment I tried to edge into a conversation between Mr. Gaines and the museum drones?”
Snapping her mouth closed, she regretted at once her impulsive nature and speaking her mind. It was unprofessional and petty to bring up her mistakes like that.
“Probably the moment you trashed my coffee,” he said, a smile turning up his lips. His dark eyebrows raised infinitesimally, signifying his amusement. “I have been suffering ever since.”
“You didn’t drink my tea?” she asked. “I’m guessing they were switched.”
He nodded, pulling a face. “The label was incorrect. It was definitely tea, and I don’t drink tea.”
Ellie scoffed slightly. Who didn’t drink tea? “It was herbal.”
His Stand-In Holiday Girlfriend (Christmas in the City Book 1) Page 1