Wintertime Love: A Christmas Billionaire Small Town Romance (Holiday Series Book 2)

by Emelia Blair

  To my surprise, he steps back, obediently. His weight disappearing has me feeling wistful and that feeling throws me off. I run my fingers through my hair, suddenly feeling nervous and off balance.

  When it comes to this man, there is a constant conflict in my heart, between the fact that he stole my dream when I was days away from achieving it and the fact that he makes me feel things I’ve never felt.

  Finn reads the expression on my face and says, “Clara.”

  I look up at him.

  There’s a strange look in his eyes, wonderment, incredulity and naked want. “Go out with me. One date. You won’t regret it.”

  I already am.

  He takes a step closer. “Give me a shot.” His tone is earnest. “Just one date.”

  I open my mouth to say no because it’s a bad idea, because he overwhelms me, because he makes me feel things that scare me. “Okay.”

  The restaurant is a fancy one that I’ve only gone to once, a few years ago. I’ve always found it way too extravagant but Finn insisted on bringing me here.

  It’s bee, two days since that kiss in the diner. Two days since he managed to convince me to go out with him. And since those two days, all I’ve had are wet, unfulfilled dreams that make me wake up restless and wanting.

  I’m wearing a pale blue dress with a golden hem, which matches my simple gold earrings. I’ve not gone overboard with dressing up or at least I’ve tried not to. Lucia, who had shown up an hour before the date, armed with her makeup kit, forced a dark smoky eye on me and put my hair up in a loosely artistic bun that makes me look more elegant than I actually am. I do look hot but I feel uncomfortable. It’s like I’m wearing a disguise, hiding my true self.

  If it had been up to me, I would have left it at the dress and the earrings, maybe perhaps putting on a light lipstick. Finn has been unable to take his eyes off me and while that should be flattering, I don’t want him to look at this dolled up version of me which is so far from who I am.

  We order appetizers and I’m unusually subdued, feeling fidgety, wanting to take off the makeup caked on my face.

  “You don’t look very happy,” the man across from me comments as he leans forward and grasps a strand of hair that’s been left on the side of my face to frame it. Finn tugs at the curl. “How come you dressed up so fancy?”

  My eyes widen at the question and I feel a surge of resentment inside of me, at whom I don’t know yet.

  Before I can say anything, he continues, a light smile on his lips, “I love your hair when it’s unrestrained and wild. You look so proper right now.”

  I detect the mocking note in his voice, and I clench my jaw. Reaching up, I take out one of the hairpins, holding my bun together. I slowly and deliberately place it on the white tablecloth between us, my eyes on his. I take out the second one and then the third one. I keep going till they’re all out and my hair falls around my face in wild curls. As I take out each pin, that half smile on Finn’s face doesn’t falter but the hunger in his eyes grows till it feels like an all consuming fire scalding my skin.

  He reaches across the table, uncaring if anybody is watching and runs his hands through my curls, taking them apart, giving my hair back its volume.

  His eyes never leave mine as he does this, the act so intimidate, that my cheeks flush red. But I don’t want to be the one to break eye contact. It’ll seem like I’m losing and so far when it comes to this man, I never seem to get the upper hand. He keeps yanking the ground from under my feet, forcing me to stumble into unfamiliar territory.

  I have always been in control when it came to relationships but Finn doesn’t seem to want to follow the guidebook. Losing control is something I always fear. I’m not like Aunt Helen who prefers to go with the flow of the air or like Aunt Vee who adapts to every situation like water. I have always been someone who plans in advance, who prefers her i’s dotted and her t’s crossed. I’ve never considered it a bad thing, it’s something I’ve always accepted about myself. This is the first time that I’m wondering what it would be like to just let go and not think about the consequences. Finn makes me want to try.

  Jerk, I think to myself, childishly.

  He still has one curl wrapped around his finger and he tugs on it, playfully. “Much better. I prefer you in your normal wear, scowling at me.”

  “Normal wear?” I echo. “Should I be offended?”

  He grins. “You know. Your blouses, pants and jeans and skirts. You look so hot when you boss people around the diner.”

  “Did you just call me bossy?” I blink at him, my brows raised. “Just how much experience do you have in dating? I don’t think calling your date bossy is a good way to start things off.”

  His lips curve again into a smile. “It is when I think it’s sexy. You’re always welcome to boss me around.”

  I lean back in my seat, batting his hand away from my hair, and study him, “I don’t think you’re the type of guy who lets himself get pushed around. You like being in control and if you don’t have it, you’ll seize it. You’re too dominant.”

  The double meaning in my words isn’t lost to him and Finn tilts his head as an arrogant gleam enters his eyes. “Sometimes, letting someone else take charge can end up being more stimulating.”

  He doesn’t even bother disguising his statement, forcing me to absorb the full impact of his words. If his intention is to throw me off my game, he’s got another thing coming. I give him a calm smile, masking my frazzled emotions and the sudden quivering of my insides. “Yes, well. Maybe I’m not looking for stimulation.” I reach for a breadstick and break it in half, chewing on one half of it, offering him the other.

  Finn takes it from me. “You should give it a try, Darlin’.”

  The amber of his eyes are so piercing that it almost robs me of my breath. I just give him a vague look and shrug. “You want to stimulate me, tell me about your plans for the bar that you’ve just bought.”

  Finn looks amused. “What about it?”

  “What do you intend to do with the place?”

  He leans back in his seat and now, I see the shark-eyed businessman take over the charming flirt who’s been trying to talk me into his bed. “I’m considering opening a branch of Expresso House there.”

  My hands tremble for a second before I firm them. “The renowned coffee house?”

  Of course, I’ve heard of it.

  It’s started up in the UK and then took the country by storm, cheap prices and it’s quality outstanding. It opened several branches in D.C., Chicago, and San Francisco, over the past three years and it has been a hit. If a branch opens here, its low prices will steal away my customer base.

  I suddenly feel queasy.“You – You bought the franchise?” I say, faintly.

  Finn raises a brow, “Bought it? Darlin’, I own it.”

  My body stills as I know I just went white in the face and I try to keep my wits about me but it’s hard to keep my tone steady when he has just snatched the floor from under my feet. “S-So, why here? Wicca Springs is in the middle of nowhere.”

  He shrugs, watching me carefully. “This town gets a lot of tourists and I wanted to see if one of our branches could survive in a small town like this.”

  An experiment. He’s playing with my livelihood because he wants to conduct an experiment.

  I want to be angry, to rage at him, but I have no right to. And that stuns me.

  Why should he care whether my business will suffer or not? He’s a businessman. I’m no one to him, just a woman he wants to sleep with. My mood dampens and my smile lacks luster. “I see.”

  He doesn’t seem to notice. “This town doesn’t have many coffee shops. Maybe four or five? I had my people look into it and conducted some research myself. This is an ideal place.”

  “It is,” I whisper, my chest tightening.

  It’s getting harder for me to breathe. But I don’t want him to know my state or how upset I am. This man is planning to crush everything I’ve worked for these past
few years, all my hard work, all my sweat and blood, and that leaves me dazed.

  And here I am sitting like an idiot, having dinner with him. A normal café wouldn’t have hurt my business that much but Expresso House is one of the best coffee places I know about. I’ve seen their layout when I went to D.C. last year. Compared to it, my diner looks like a hole in the wall.

  I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to listen to him talk about this. I don’t want anything to do with him. But I can’t get up and walk away as well. So, I sit there, rooted to my chair by invisible chains, my heart breaking piece by piece. If I lose my business to him, there’ll be nothing left of me to put back together.

  The dinner goes on and I put on a smile and play the perfect date.

  When he takes me home, I avoid his kiss and then make an excuse and retire to my room.

  I’m not much aware of anything as I stumble into my room in a daze, and then sit on the bed.

  I cry myself to sleep that night.

  Chapter 6

  The next few days, I make it a point not to avoid Finn. I don’t want him suspecting anything. But I also make sure to never be alone with him. He’s charming, sweet and intense but looking at him hurts. It feels like betrayal although he doesn’t owe me anything. He shouldn’t mean enough for me to be so upset by his actions.

  So, under the guise of damage control to lessen the impact on my business, I lock myself in my office for hours after closing, talking to suppliers, coming up with plans to cut costs so that I can match the prices that the new coffee shop will be offering.

  I’m not stupid. I know a proper coffee shop opening right across from my diner will draw customers away who will want to linger in the glossy new shop. Students will prefer to go there, people who usually hold casual business meetings will shift it to the coffee shop which will provide them with a larger space, a more organized sitting area. I’ll lose a large chunk of my profits and I need to start making changes now so that by the time that place opens, I will be offering services that are at least similar to theirs. But this is the kind of planning that will require a lot of investment and I don’t have that kind of money.

  I look down at the numbers, torn.

  How am I supposed to dredge up such a large sum of money?

  It’s impossible. Even with the profits coming in, this amount is too far out of my reach.

  I’m so lost in my depressing thoughts that I don’t hear the knock on my door and jump when a familiar voice calls out my name.

  Finn is standing in the doorway, frowning at me, “You okay there, Darlin’?”

  I gape at him. “What are you doing here?”

  He lifts up a basket. “Helen sent me to find you.”

  “Since when are you their errand boy?” I snap.

  “Since they feed me and coddle me,” he responds, walking over and looking down at what I’m doing. “What is this?”

  “Nothing,” I say, hastily, trying to close the computer screen and failing.

  Finn stills, and he grabs my hand to prevent me from closing the screen. “Clara, what is this?” His eyes are running over the estimates and numbers that I’ve been calculating over this past week.

  I try to smile, airily, but I can’t manage it. “Just some work stuff. Nothing to be—”

  “Are you planning to do heavy maintenance before Christmas?” He sounds concerned. “That will really hurt your business.”

  I snatch my hand away and close the scree., “What do you care about my business?”

  He shoots me a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I swallow and turn my head to the side. “Nothing. Forget it. What did you bring?”

  Finn however, doesn’t want to forget it and he grasps my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “Answer my question, Clara.” His voice is cool,

  The commanding tone is unmistakable and his amber eyes are boring into mine, making mine lower, unable to handle the dominance in it. His grip tightens on my jaw, and he says, warningly, “Clara.”

  It shouldn’t but his authoritative tone and his hold on me, makes me want to put everything down and lean on him for a bit, on the man who’s the reason behind everything about to go wrong in my life right now. I stare up at him, suddenly feeling helpless and not knowing what to do.

  I’m a strong independent woman who has always refused to turn to a man for help. I’ve grown up around women who have taught me to be my own strength. This is the first time that I don’t want to be strong and handle all this pressure by myself. But the person my traitorous heart wants to share it with, he’s the last person I should be depending on.

  Slowly, with a heavy heart, I reach up and gently push his hand away from me. “It’s nothing. I’m just tired. Never mind me. What’s in the basket?”

  “Clara, why are you revamping your entire interior design?” Finn asks, quietly.

  I purse my lips and I answer, “It’s just something I’m thinking about.” I reach for the basket, desperate to change the subject, scared that I might let something slip. This uncertainty, it’s new to me, and I’m trying to figure out how to handle this particular brand of vulnerability.

  There’s homemade chicken rice inside, along with a large two person container of wild mushroom soup. There is also a flash of Aunt Helen’s tea. One sniff and it has a calming effect on me. Of course that doesn’t stay for long since I’m right next to the person who’s source of all my stress.

  “I think she sent it for you as well.” I sigh as I close the basket. “Look, I’ve got a lot of work to do. And I’m not particularly hungry at the moment. I’m sorry she made you come all this way for nothing.”

  Finn doesn’t say anything. Instead, he does that thing where he watches me with this simmering intensity till I want to blurt something out to fill the length of silence. Then he closes the basket and walks over to where my coat is hanging. He brings it over and holds it up. “Come on.”

  “What?” I stare at him and then at the coat. “I’m not—”

  “They were setting up lights and decorations in the town park. I want to see them.”

  “You mean the Christmas Garden?” I ask, slowly, realizing that I haven’t even begun to decorate the diner. We’re already two weeks into November. But then I’d been thinking of revamping the entire look.

  “Yes,” Finn says, stubbornly. “I want to see them with you. Now, come on.”

  “Finn—” I begin.

  He cuts me off with that mournful look that never fails to get to me. “You’d make me go there alone? By myself? With no one to accompany me? All by my lonesome?”

  The corner of my lips quirks up against my will.

  “You’ve clearly got the idea. So, come on.” He edges towards me, his eyes glinting. “I walked all the way here in the cold to bring you this food and you can’t even give me some company?” He sighs then, his shoulders drooping in an exaggerated manner. “I see how it is. I guess I’ll just go back and sit alone in my room while everyone spends time with their family.” He shoots me a look as if checking to see of it’s working and then adds another layer, sighing even more heavily, “I don’t even have family here.”

  “Fine!” I growl. “I’ll go. I’m coming!”

  His entire demeanor changes in a heartbeat from a beaten down expression to a cheerful smile. “Good.” He helps me into the jacket.

  I am now wondering why I let him talk me into this. Two weeks or so of knowing me and he knows just how to get under my skin.

  He’s completely shameless.

  Finn turns me around and starts zipping up my jacket.

  His face is so close to me that I can see the length of his dark lashes, covering those beautiful eyes that have a habit of haunting me when he’s not even around. His hands are rough and coarse. I can almost feel them on my skin and I choke silently, hating that he’s close but I can’t have him. It will only deepen the pit that I’m trying to crawl out of.

  He starts buttoning me up.

  �
��I- I can do that,” I state my voice sounding shaky.

  He gives me an odd look and then his lips curve in a half smile. “I like doing it.”

  How am I supposed to respond to something like that?

  “Wait, why are you grabbing the basket?” I ask as he picks it up.

  “It’s hot food. We can have it later on in the car.” He takes me my hand.

  I don’t even get to protest as I’m dragged out.

  The town council always sets up the Christmas Garden each year and it is a beautiful sight. The previous fairy lights that are always a prelude are removed, to be replaced by entire trees wrapped by shimmering lights which move in and down, creating patterns down the pathway. Snowmen made from wires and fairy lights are stationed in random places, along with reindeer and elves.

  It’s a stunning sight as always. I walk next to Finn, my hands tucked in the pockets of my jacket.

  He looks around at the number of Christmas trees that have been decorated with such love and care and his eyes are lit up.

  Maybe he really wanted to see this? I muse.

  “Doesn’t WestHallor have a Christmas garden every year?” I ask, hesitantly.

  He shrugs. “It does but my grandmother never liked me to go. When I was a teen, I was never allowed to attend the Christmas markets and the events. Then by the time I could have sneaked out, I had been sent off to boarding school.”

  I freeze, horrified. “You spent Christmas at school?”

  His shoulders move up and down a little as he takes in a snowman made from wires with glinting blue eyes. “Grandmother is a very status conscious woman. I was allowed back home for the Annual McCarthy Christmas Ball. But I arrived in the afternoon and had to return to the school premises by the next morning.”

  My heart goes out to the lonely young teenager who was on the cusp of adulthood, wandering the school grounds on Christmas Day, alone, with no family to surround him, no presents to open, no warm house filled with laughter and joy and ugly sweaters. “That’s awful,” I blurt out. “Christmas is meant to be spent with the people you love, not alone.” My jaw tightens. “If I had known you back then, I would have taken you home and made you spend it with my family!”