His Stand-In Holiday Girlfriend (Christmas in the City Book 1)

by Kasey Stockton

  “Which is gross,” Brady countered. “So now you owe me a coffee.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. “And you owe me a tea.”

  “Garrison,” Mr. Gaines shouted from across the room, “I want your best work on this one. This is a great networking opportunity.”

  He turned and saluted the man in charge. Shooting Ellie a commiserating smile, Brady said, “Welcome to the company. Don’t worry, it really is a great place to work.”

  “I’m sure,” she agreed. “I mean, at least I haven’t fallen flat on my face!”

  Brady shot her a confused look and walked away, and Ellie did her very best not to literally hit her face with her palm.

  Things were not getting off to the best start.

  Chapter Two

  The worst way to begin a day at work was in a meeting with your ex-girlfriend.

  The worst way to begin a project at work was learning your ex-girlfriend was the liaison from the museum you’re responsible for decorating for an important Christmas gala.

  And, to make things even worse, Brady hadn’t had any caffeine yet today. At least the new intern provided a little entertainment to dull the blow he’d gotten from seeing Monica. Did she really have to show up at the meeting as though she’d had no idea they would be working side-by-side for the next few weeks?

  Brady leaned back in his office chair, bringing his hands up to rest behind his neck. He surveyed the floor, noting his design team’s necks bent toward their desks, dutifully working up ideas for a new, fresh take on Christmas.

  Because apparently, in the world of modern art, that was a thing.

  He scoffed, rolling his eyes. It was one thing to spruce up Santa and his reindeer, but to replace them with Great Danes? Monica had fully lost it. What was she trying to prove, anyway?

  They’d split a few months ago. If she was still holding out for him, she was going to be disappointed. What had she said when he walked away from her? Oh, right. One day you’ll come crawling back to me, and I’ll be waiting.

  He scoffed out loud. Desperate, much?

  He was pretty certain she was legitimately crazy.

  Bringing his forehead down to rest on his folded arms on the desk, he squeezed his eyes shut. Who was he kidding? There was a reason she had said those things when he’d walked away from her. He’d gone back to her four other times already. What was it about the woman that drew him to her?

  Of course, she was intelligent and gorgeous. But every time they got back together she would do something to remind him why they broke up in the first place. Every. Single. Time. Within twenty-four hours, usually. And more often than not, it involved his credit card.

  “Hey, boss?” a timid-sounding man said.

  Brady lifted his head to find one of his junior designers standing to the side of his desk, a handful of papers clutched in his nervous hand.

  “Hey, Zane. What’s up?”

  Zane cleared his throat. “I read over your notes from the meeting and drew up some concepts for the Santa stage.” He offered the stack of papers and Brady took them, flipping through them.

  “Yeah, I’ll look these over.” They were basic ideas—things a ten-year-old could come up with. Brady wanted original ideas. He wanted to find a way to incorporate traditional Christmas into the sterile party Monica had asked for. He slapped the papers on his desk and leveled Zane with a look. “Keep working, okay? The right thing will come.”

  Defeated, Zane smiled bravely and went back to his seat at the long brainstorming table. He’d been brave to approach Brady with such little ingenuity. Hopefully the rest of the team came up with something better.

  A knock sounded against the glass door and Brady glanced up to find the new intern standing there. Ellie Shaw. She was cute, with her blonde hair waving loosely. She smiled widely at him and lifted a coffee cup, her eyebrows raising along with her hand.

  Brady gestured for her to enter the room and she did, crossing the floor with a sudden look of apprehension, her gaze darting toward the collaboration table and back.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” Brady said, accepting the warm to-go cup.

  Ellie lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I owed you. How are you going to design a fully modern Christmas party without any caffeine in your system?”

  He offered her a perfunctory smile. “I guess that’s why I’ve got a whole team.”

  “Oh, right.” She glanced back over at the table again and her cheeks went rosy. “I better get back to my desk.”

  “What does Gaines have you working on?” Brady asked, watching her fidget. Something or someone in this room made her uncomfortable. Her hands played with the fringe on her sweater and though he was not entirely sure, he thought he saw reindeer painted on her fingernails.

  “Nothing, yet.” Ellie quickly rallied, dropping her fringe and bringing her hands up in surrender. “I’m not complaining, though. I came to learn the business and I know that will take time.” She looked about the office as though seeing it for the first time. “What exactly does the design team do?”

  “A lot of different components, and anything Gaines asks us for, really. But our main job is the literal architecture design. When we aren’t planning parties for snooty museums, of course.” He cleared his throat. “We headed up the Alta building last year. It’s won awards in Architects Today.”

  “Impressive.”

  He suddenly wished he hadn’t boasted. She looked suitably impressed, but he hadn’t been going for that. He’d merely been explaining the breadth of his team’s responsibilities.

  Turning back toward his computer, he typed something in to try and look busy, and then picked up his cup and took a long swig. He needed to show her he wasn’t interested. The last thing he needed was another workplace relationship. Especially when he was going to be working so closely on this project with Monica.

  “I’ll let you get back to it,” Ellie said.

  Brady glanced up. “Thanks for the coffee. I guess we’re even now.”

  She’d turned away and headed toward the door but paused and glanced back. “We’ll be even when I get my tea.”

  Brady chuckled, taking another sip of his drink. It really was too bad he’d decided not to date coworkers anymore.

  After going through concepts from his entire team that were all about the same, Brady was ready to bang his forehead against his desk. There was a reason this group of people designed buildings and not parties. But Gaines was cheap, and if he could get the gala done in-house, then he would.

  Brady pulled a pad of paper and a pen from his drawer and set them on his desk. He really did his best thinking through ink.

  Flipping the pad open, he sketched a few concepts exactly how Monica requested, with a hipster Santa and a team of Great Danes set up perfectly.

  Really? It was ridiculous. He ripped the paper out of the sketch book, crumpled it and tossed it into the trash can.

  Try again.

  He closed his eyes, lowering his pen onto the paper and imagining the museum. He’d spent a fair amount of time there walking the halls while he’d dated Monica, before she’d left the firm they’d both worked for prior to this job.

  There was a nice, large room with tall, white walls and a tiled floor. It was going to be cleared of most of the art currently on display to make room for the gala.

  They were hoping to add a charitable function to the event, as well, but Brady couldn’t get his brain to worry about that yet.

  Tapping his pen against the paper, he opened his eyes and began to draw. He created the space on the page that he’d need to be working in, outlining the basic shape of the room. Filling in the necessary implements, Brady drew tall tables draped in cloth, with a dais in the center of the room and a Santa seated there, his arm raised as though he was waving. He drew in a few lounging dogs, because there was no way they would be able to get any animal to stand at attention the way reindeer did for Santa. And if he was being honest, the relaxed dogs with large, red collars c
overed in jingle bells were more fitting, anyway.

  He surveyed the drawing, imagining the room and how he could fill it with an appropriately modern Christmas. He had a hard time wrapping his head around that though. What did that even mean?

  A chat window popped up on his computer with an accompanying ding and Brady set the pen down, reading the message from Gaines’s secretary, Bridget.

  BridgetHoward: Mr. Gaines would like to meet with you at 4:00 in his office. Bring your designs.

  Brady really wanted to bang his head against his desk now. He replied quickly that he would be there and closed out the chat window.

  He glanced over his sheet again, but nothing new came to mind. Monica wanted modern, and he got that. They needed to keep up with the image the museum already had. But weren’t the gala attendees all donors and socialites? They weren’t college kids and millennials.

  Brady opened a group chat on his computer which involved everyone on his design team and typed.

  BradyGarrison: We’ve got to throw together a killer idea by 3:45. I want your best work, people. Who’s got ideas?

  Screenshots of concepts filled the chat one after another. Some were mediocre, others blah. He glanced around the room at the serious junior designers’ faces. He was probably having a difficult time focusing because he’d missed his morning coffee and not because he’d gone into a meeting and run straight into his ex.

  He was about to shut down the chat when a photo popped up that caught his eye. He clicked it, enlarging the photo to fill his screen. Unlike the rest of the concepts he’d gotten, this one wasn’t hand-created with the company’s elite software. It was more like an idea board thrown together by a twelve-year-old. Only, it was perfect.

  There were images stolen from various online stores—he could tell because the prices were still on some of them—of different items they could use to decorate. Large, spiky golden and silver orbs, jewel-encrusted mirrors, white Christmas trees with an array of wood-carved ornaments. There were white porcelain statues of Great Danes that the designer had photoshopped Santa hats onto.

  It was perfect.

  He clicked out of the design and searched for the sender’s name. He was prepared to make whoever it was a senior designer from this alone.

  But that was entirely impossible, because the sender of the photo was not a designer at all, she was an intern. Brady’s mouth dropped open as he read Ellie Shaw across the top of the image. How had she even gotten involved in the chat?

  Opening up a separate window with her alone, he ignored the dings of other ideas coming in as he typed a message.

  BradyGarrison: Not that I mind at all, but why are you in our group chat?

  EllieShaw: No idea! Cassie must have added me to the wrong one.

  Brady lifted his fingers, flexing them before typing again.

  BradyGarrison: Well, you’re in luck. Your idea is the best I’ve seen today.

  EllieShaw: Yes! I knew that design degree wasn’t for nothing.

  BradyGarrison: Meet me in front of Gaines’s office at four. You just earned the right to pitch your idea to the boss.

  Silence met him for a moment. No more dings could be heard and the little icon indicating the other person was typing was completely absent. He glanced up when another ding caught his attention.

  EllieShaw: I’ll be there.

  BradyGarrison: Don’t panic. He’s really nice under all those scowls.

  EllieShaw: Laughing crying emoji.

  Brady read the message again, his eyebrows rising. His lips formed a smile.

  BradyGarrison: Did you really just type that out?

  EllieShaw: I don’t see options for an emoji anywhere in this chat program.

  And clearly an emoji was the only way for Ellie to explain to him what she was feeling. He closed out the chat and leaned back in his chair. Picking up the half-empty coffee cup, Brady downed the rest of the liquid and tossed the cup into the recycle bin not far from his desk.

  For the first time since he had entered the conference room that morning and seen Monica’s intelligent, green eyes, Brady relaxed. The first hurdle was over. He was fairly sure he could convince Gaines to let him roll with this concept.

  The hard part—figuring out a way to head this project without spending any time with Monica—was yet to come.

  Chapter Three

  Don’t panic? Was that really his advice? Since when had that ever worked?

  Oh, right. Never.

  Ellie wanted to be seen by the people in charge. She wanted to learn and grow from the various components in the company and earn a place to be hired on as a legitimate employee and not just an intern, but this was her first day. And she’d begun it with a nice peppermint mocha spit-spray all over the conference room during an important meeting.

  And she was ending it in the CEO’s office with the head of design brandishing her ideas?

  This was bonkers.

  She paced the bathroom, crossing from the stalls to the door and back, watching her own reflection through the mirrors in her peripheral vision.

  She paused near the door, psyching herself up. She had five minutes to get there and didn’t want to make Brady wait for her. It was time.

  She reached for the handle as the door swung open and Ellie leapt back just before getting smacked in the face by the swinging slab of wood. At least this part of the building wasn’t done in glass.

  “Whoops, sorry!” Ellie said as the door opened and Cassie almost collided with her.

  The secretary ran past her, her face stricken with tears and her breath coming in heaving sobs.

  Ellie glanced to the door as it closed, then to the stall where Cassie had run. She reached for the door handle, but then dropped her arm. She couldn’t just leave now.

  “Cassie?” she called hesitantly. The secretary didn’t respond, but sounds of weeping reached Ellie’s ears. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Peace and quiet,” the woman snapped through the metal door.

  Ellie stepped back immediately. “Okay, I’ll go.”

  She left the bathroom, ignoring the ache in her chest that tugged her back toward the sad woman. Cassie clearly did not wish to be friends, but Ellie couldn’t help feeling sorry for the devastation she’d seen on Cassie’s face.

  She made an internal commitment to check on Cassie later. She’d already delayed enough, she very well could be late.

  Ellie’s feet throbbed as her heels clicked along the floor. She crossed the large, open room full of desks and unfamiliar faces and made it to the one office with frosted glass belonging to Mr. Gaines.

  Brady stood outside the office door, chatting with the secretary, one hand slung casually in his pocket.

  He glanced up and caught Ellie’s eyes. “Ready?”

  “No,” she said, eliciting a chuckle from Brady.

  “You’ll be fine. Just try not to spit everywhere.” He gave her a teasing, encouraging smile.

  Ellie couldn’t help but laugh a little. The secretary gave her an odd look, and Ellie sent her a bright smile. The woman had bright red curls and a very festive green bow in her hair that didn’t necessarily jibe with the vibe in the architecture firm. But Ellie loved it.

  The secretary picked up her phone and put it to her ear, casting a smile at Brady while she waited. “Mr. Garrison and Ms. Shaw are here to see you.” She set the phone back on the receiver and nodded. “You can go in now.”

  Ellie followed Brady into the office, doing her best to feel worthy. She followed his lead by stepping up to the desk centered along the back window and taking a white cushioned seat in front of Mr. Gaines’s desk.

  The man had large, round cheeks and a suit that probably cost more than Ellie’s entire wardrobe. He stared into his phone, typing furiously as he glared at the screen through thick-rimmed glasses. The sound of clicking keys on his phone cut through the silence and a minute passed by before Mr. Gaines sighed and dropped his phone on the glass tabletop, forcing Ellie to jump in her cha
ir.

  “You’ve brought it?” he asked gruffly, glancing up at Brady.

  Brady placed a tablet on the table and slid it toward Gaines. “The original concept came from Ms. Shaw, but I took it upon myself to expand upon it. If you swipe right, you’ll see the trees and table settings my team designed.”

  Mr. Gaines accepted the tablet and leaned back in his chair, crossing one ankle over the other. His mouth pinched in disapproval as he focused on the images, his pudgy finger swiping through them with speed.

  Handing back the tablet, he looked Brady in the eye. “It’s good, Garrison. That is exactly what I meant when I said modern Christmas. We agreed to do this with the museum exactly for this purpose. I want new, hip and edgy. This might be a charity function, but more importantly, it’s an opportunity.”

  “For what?” Ellie asked. She clamped her mouth shut when both Mr. Gaines and Brady turned to her in unison. She was supposed to be making herself look good, not inferior.

  “Networking, building our reputation, gathering new clientele,” Brady rattled off. “The guest list on this gala is monstrous and it’s a prime chance to woo new clients.”

  Ellie nodded sagely. “Of course. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “You’re heading up this project,” Mr. Gaines said, his attention on Brady. “It’s an important collaboration if we want access to the museum’s main donor list. And we can’t afford to mess it up.”

  Brady cleared his throat, rearranging his hands before gripping the arm rests on his chair. “I was hoping, actually, to focus more on the Allen project. What if Jared headed this up? It would be a great opportunity for him to showcase his abilities with the promotions coming up.”

  “No,” Mr. Gaines said immediately. “We can’t afford any mistakes. I want you heading it, Garrison.” He turned his attention on Ellie with the heat of the sun. “And I want you to help.”

  Ellie swallowed, nodding. She wanted attention and opportunity, but she didn’t anticipate this much, or this soon.