She checked the clock on the wall. Noon exactly. They were closing early after a hellishly frantic push for volume. With the new shift pattern Jake had established, production had increased by twenty-three percent. And the supply cost negotiations Emerson had conducted, along with the dollar increase in retail price, had generated seven points more margin. Things were moving in the right direction.
“Did it get off okay?” Connor asked as he strolled into the warehouse. He wore a thick black hoodie and a beanie, dark blue jeans, and a thick-soled pair of boots. Some days he still wore his suits. Like the days when he went to Finch Liquor Distribution to help his father as Connor transitioned out of the business, or to help him find and interview a new CFO to replace Cameron. The security footage had proven what Connor suspected. That Cameron had gone into his office and taken his document.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her close, and kissed her soundly.
Somewhere between the two of them making up and standing here now, he’d become the de facto Sales and Marketing Director for Dyer’s Gin Distillery, a job she had sucked at and was glad to be rid of. It was supposedly only temporary while he looked for something else, but Emerson was getting used to having him around. She knew he had big aspirations, but Jake and Olivia had suggested offering him the job on a permanent basis. Emerson was still considering it, but she’d take her lumps if he turned her down because he didn’t want to put all their eggs in one basket.
“It did,” she replied with a grin. The heat of his body staved off the chill of the wintery breeze. “How was your morning?” she asked when they came up for air.
“Good. If the product sells well in all these new channels, it could be a great earner. I think we’re in with a potential distribution network in the UK. Opening a European pipeline could double the distillery’s revenue.”
“Assuming the renovation goes well and on schedule next year,” Emerson added. “We won’t produce enough without that.”
When she’d point-blank refused Connor’s offer of personal investment, he’d understood. She needed to do this on her own terms. Instead, she’d gone to the bank and explained the reasons behind her father’s loan. They had paid back the loan in full, using funds from the quick sale of their father’s house. A friend of Jake’s had wanted the house and had offered a fast closing to move in before Christmas. But she’d asked the bank to consider providing her a new loan. She’d shown them production volumes, expansion plans, and with thanks to Connor, a new sales and marketing strategy that would boost income considerably.
And the bank had been impressed with the plan. They were prepared to write the sheet clean, treating Emerson as a new business owner. They’d asked her to come back once the distillery had achieved three months of back-to-back improvement, and they were well on their way. Her plan included expanding the events hall into a new distillery, while the old distillery would be renovated into a larger, multi-functional events hall.
Connor let her go and walked to the roller shutter doors of the warehouse, lowering them to block out the cold flurries fluttering their way onto the concrete floor of the warehouse. “Jake’s just shutting everything down, and Olivia is setting up for the wedding tonight.”
Emerson thought about the small Christmas Eve party that was a surprise wedding for one of the Denver ice hockey players. She’d offered to work, but Olivia had assured Emerson that she and the team she’d hired had it covered. Still, she’d planned to stay the night at Connor’s anyhow, it being Christmas and all. That and the fact that his space was big enough to host both their families for Christmas dinner.
“Is it wrong that I’m so relieved Liv said she didn’t need my help?” Emerson asked as they walked toward the offices.
Connor threw his arm over her shoulder. “Is it wrong I’m relieved I get to take you home and make out with you all afternoon?”
Emerson laughed. “You wish. I have things to bake, make, and stuff. And you have things to wrap.”
Connor pouted. “I’d rather be unwrapping you.”
“Maybe if you get all your chores done, you can get a reward like a good boy.”
“Always the negotiator,” he muttered.
They grabbed their things from their respective offices. Connor had unofficially moved into the spacious cluttered storage closet down the hallway instead of sharing an office with Liv as Emerson had done. He’d moved Emerson’s old desk in there after asking Emerson if it was all right to clear out the space.
On their way out, Emerson checked in on the tasting rooms. Everything was decorated in sprays of flowers and greenery, in white and sage green. It smelled glorious. “Liv,” she called out.
“One sec.” Olivia clambered from beneath the white tablecloth covering a long bank of tables. “Sorry, needed an extension cable. How does it look?”
Emerson took another look around the room. The wedding planner had done an incredible job of creating the theme, and Liv had been equally successful in helping pull it all together. Round tables stood alongside the windows. The fairy lights outside would really highlight the snow later. On the other side of the room, there was a small dance floor. Discretion had been the name of the game. They’d not been allowed to tell anyone what they were hosting, with the whole distillery held to a nondisclosure agreement. There was a private deal for photographs with a high-end magazine that Emerson hoped would shine the distillery in a positive light. “You’ve done a wonderful job, Liv. Really. Dad would be amazed by all this.”
Liv smiled. “Thanks. I think he would, too.”
“Right, I’m heading out. Are you sure I can’t help? Connor is still here. He would be good for any and all heavy lifting.”
Liv shook her head. “No,” she said firmly. “I’ve got this.”
“Well, you know where I am if you need reinforcements tonight. I’ll only be—”
“I’m fine, Em. Honestly. Leave this to me.”
Emerson took her sister’s hand and squeezed it. “Fine. I get it. Break a leg.”
By the time she got to the parking lot, Connor had cleared his car of snow and had the engine going to heat up the inside.
“Everything good?” he asked as she slipped inside. The leather seat already felt warm through the denim of her jeans.
“Everything is perfectly fine.”
Connor squeezed her knee before driving them home. It was funny how in such a short time she had come to think of their places interchangeably. Especially as the weather changed and there was less for her to do in her garden. It was nice to stay at his place. It was bigger than hers. And she appreciated the view of the Denver skyline. But if she stayed there too long, she got claustrophobic, and needed to get out of the city.
Once inside his home, Connor helped her out of her coat and hung it on the hook by the door. The seasonal lights they’d strung over the balcony on Thanksgiving weekend sparkled, even though snow swirled around them. And when Emerson switched on the lights to the Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, everything began to take on the magical glow of Christmas. She grinned as she recalled the stoic look on Connor’s face as they’d tied the tree to the top of his Mercedes to bring it home. They’d decorated it together, and once done, Connor had tugged her down to the floor and taken her on the blue rug, again.
“Want to get naked with me?” Connor said, slipping his arms around her waist, nuzzling into her neck.
She turned in his arms. “I was just thinking about the afternoon we decorated the tree. But as truly wonderful as that idea sounds, what I need to do is switch on some Christmas carols and do some baking. Want to help?”
Connor grinned. “If the only goods you’re willing to let me eat are your baked goods, then I don’t really have a choice.”
“As I said earlier, if you’re a good boy, I might let you strip me naked and bend me over the kitchen island.”
“Oh, can we include flour and sugar? Make a big mess?”
“Only if you promise to vacuum and mop
before everyone arrives tomorrow.”
“Spoilsport.”
Connor let her go and walked to the wine rack. “Pinot?” he asked.
“Perfect.” On the kitchen counter were two boxes. One of ingredients, the other of baking utensils. Connor had gotten the turkey and all of the vegetables. He’d picked them up on his way home from the distillery the previous day, while she stayed late at Dyer’s to finish off a run with Jake.
“What are we making?” Connor said, placing a glass of wine in front of her.
“Apple pie, obviously. Lemon squares. Rocky Road. Double chocolate chip cookies. A cheesecake. And cheese breadsticks for the charcuterie.” She picked up the wine and, after clinking the glass to his, took a sip. “Mmm. That’s good.”
Connor drank from his glass. “Not as tasty as you.”
She playfully slapped his arm. “Stop. You need to focus. If there’s no dessert tomorrow, it’ll be all your fault.”
“You know the stores are still open, Em. I could pop out and get something, then it could be you, me, this bottle of red, and a whole lot of mischief.”
Emerson laughed. “Here,” she said, handing him the scale. “Make your own mischief by measuring two cups of that.” She pointed to the flour. “I’m going to make a start on the crumb base for the cheesecake.”
“You realize you’re making more types of dessert than there are guests, right?”
For a moment, she paused to think. Her and Connor. Jake and Liv. His mom and Derek, plus his dad. Seven of them. “Wrong. Five desserts plus something savory. And it’s Christmas. If you can’t have multiple desserts on Christmas, when can you? Wait, can you eat any of this?”
Connor grinned. “I usually eat what I want from Christmas Day to New Year’s but work out at least three hours a day, since I’m off work. Gym session, weights, and then focused stretching. Want to join me?”
Emerson shook her head. “I can’t imagine anything worse. I’m just going to eat it all and start again on January first.”
“One of the many reasons I love you,” Connor said, tearing into the bag of flour. Plumes of it went into the air, dusting his stubble and black T-shirt.
She couldn’t help but laugh at the shocked look on his face.
“I don’t even know how that happened,” Connor said, pulling at his T-shirt to get a better look at the damage.
“You could always take it off and bake shirtless,” she suggested, helpfully.
Connor raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been trying to get you naked since we got home. Was that an invitation? Because I’m about to walk straight through it,” he said, moving around the island toward her. He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it on the counter.
She made a show of pushing him away, but ultimately let him pull her into his arms. “I like the way you said home,” she said, softly.
“Want to make it permanent?” he asked. “I know how much being out of the city means to you, but we have the means to keep both places. Here during the week and then your place on the weekends?”
Her heart skipped a beat. The idea of them living together had been something she’d considered, but for some reason she’d always assumed he’d want them to live in his house, which definitely had more space than her home. “In the summer, the garden needs a bit more work.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Emerson…I don’t really care. Here or there. Five nights to two nights, three nights to four. It doesn’t matter. Home is where you are, anyway. I just want to make a start on a plan where I get to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of our lives.”
Now her heart melted. “I want that, too, Connor. Truly.”
She stepped up on her toes, and he bent to meet her, kissing her thoroughly and more deliciously than any of the treats she intended on baking. Unable to resist, she slid her fingertips beneath the waistband of his jeans, reassured by his steady heat.
“If you start that, we’re stopping baking,” he muttered against her lips.
“You’re practically naked, which is highly distracting, so we’re stopping baking,” she said before whooping as he bent forward and picked her up, his arms holding her tight. “Connor, we do need to finish it later.”
“Fine, but we’re finishing this negotiation once you’re naked and beneath me,” he laughed, carrying her into their bedroom.
About the Author
Scarlett Cole is a contemporary romance author that calls both Toronto, Canada and Manchester, England home. A born city dweller, she periodically quashes the urge to live in the country by hiking up a mountain to remind herself that living away from people would terrify the pants off her.
She believes everybody deserves their love story to be told and loves her heroes on the rough and rugged side…and usually tall (because she married one of those 6ft 6” men you read about in romance!). She’s an A-type personality and Scorpio star sign, so good luck getting her to do anything she doesn’t want to.
When she isn’t writing, she’s happy to talk about hot men and expensive shoes while drinking a cold gin and tonic. Don’t bring up olives. As far as Scarlett is concerned, they are the devil’s food. As long as you don’t bring up olives, she’s happy to hear from you any time.
Also by Scarlett Cole
Second Circle Tattoos Series
The Strongest Steel
The Fractured Heart
The Purest Hook
The Darkest Link
Preload Series
Jordan Reclaimed
Elliott Redeemed
Nikan Rebuilt
Lennon Reborn
Love Over Duty Series
Under Fire
Final Siege
Deep Cover
Love in Numbers: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Love Distilled Book 1) Page 24