The Christmas Scoop

by Mimi Wells

  “Hey,” he said across the roof of her car.

  “Hey, yourself,” she replied. Wow. They were off to a roaring start.

  “Come on inside,” he said. “It’s too windy under here.”

  She nodded and followed him to the door. Yesterday, she hadn’t made it any further than the entryway. Today, she walked through to the main room, her boots incongruous against the intricate rug and its border of hunters and horsemen.

  “Wow,” she whispered, taking in the elegant furnishings, the wall of windows, the light and space, the incredible view. She ran a careful hand along the polished wood mantel. “You designed this.” A statement, not a question.

  “Yeah.”

  She shook her head. Writing gossipy stories, no matter how popular, seemed so… small in comparison. So second place. She held back a rueful laugh and looked over at Rand. He had his hands in his pockets as if he were holding himself in.

  She knew how he felt. Everything she wanted to say burbled inside her, jumbled and strange. “So listen,” she began.

  “Why are you here?” he asked at the same time.

  She chuckled ruefully. “We never have perfected our timing, have we?” She looked up at him and met his gaze. His blue-green eyes were calm. She thought again of a forest pool, took a steadying breath.

  “Nope.”

  He motioned for her to sit down, but she was too full of nervous energy and paced instead. “About yesterday. I-I overreacted.”

  His response was immediate, fervent. “No, you didn’t.”

  “I did. I freaked out without really thinking things through. I should have asked rather than accused.”

  “I’m the one who lied. If anyone deserves to be mad, it’s you.”

  She frowned and shook her head. “No. I don’t. But sometimes I just get so worked up that I’m not really thinking straight—”

  “Ivy.”

  “And I jump to conclusions and end up making an ass of myself, and last night Katy and Julian came over and—”

  “Ivy.”

  “They explained what you’d promised and how you were trying to earn enough money to fix the—”

  “Ivy.”

  She stopped babbling and looked at him, frustrated tears beginning to sting her eyes. She was a writer, for Pete’s sake. Why were the words fighting her so hard?

  “Come here,” he said and held out his hand.

  After a moment’s hesitation, she took it. To her surprise, he opened the door to the deck and drew her outside.

  “I think better when I’m looking at trees. One sec,” he told her, dipping back into the house.

  She smiled to herself, thinking of her earlier walk in the quiet apple orchard. She thought better when she was looking at trees, too. She paid extra for her tiny Brooklyn apartment because if she stood at the right angle, she could see clear down the street to Prospect Park.

  Rand came back outside with a quilt in his arms. He swirled it around his shoulders Zorro-style and held one arm out, beckoning her into the warmth. She complied, and he wrapped her into the quilt cocoon and rested his chin on her shoulder, which crept down a notch.

  “Just breathe,” he said. His voice was warm in her ear, a contrast to the lazy flakes starting to blow all around them. She shivered but not from the cold.

  “Do you know why I built my house here?” he asked.

  “Why?”

  “This is family land.” She could feel the tilt of his head. “Down there is the house where I grew up. I’m close enough to feel the connection but farther up so I can be myself. I chose my site, designed the plans, and oriented the house so that everything is different, from the materials I chose to the view I wake up to every morning. It honors my family without crushing who I am.”

  He brushed a kiss against her temple, the barest of touches. “Sound familiar?”

  She could only nod.

  There was a pause, and then Ivy repeated, “I saw Katy and Julian last night.”

  “Did you?”

  She nodded. “Katy told me about your deal.”

  “Does that change things?”

  “Not at first, but I thought about it for a long time last night. You were doing what you needed to do to protect what’s yours.”

  “I always do.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.” She wriggled around in the blanket until she was facing him now, boots braced between his, her arms creeping around his waist. Snowflakes dusted his hair and shoulders, but she wasn’t cold. She had Rand to lean on. “It’s probably too late to ask this, since I showed my entire ass last night in front of all of you, but I really would like you to consider me.”

  “As mine?”

  “If you would, please.”

  “How’s that going to work?”

  She smiled and met his questioning gaze. “I have reason to believe that I’m going to have a new job very soon.”

  He paused. “So you sent the picture.”

  She looked at him, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Nope.” The confusion on his face was delicious. “It’s like what you said. I chose my life, designed it, and oriented it so everything was different from how I grew up. But this morning I had a long talk with my mother, and I realized that I can do the same thing you did—honor my family without crushing who I am.”

  “I’m not following you.”

  “Scoop wants to expand beyond being a gossip site, right? So this morning I offered them something different. The story I sent my boss was about my mother. How she built on a lifetime of tradition to become a successful businesswoman with a unique product that’s in demand.”

  “That’s quite a risk,” he averred.

  “I know. But I’m not stupid. I also told Wendy I had an inside track on verifying the rumor that Julian Wolf got engaged on Christmas.” She waggled her brows at him.

  “Really.”

  “Katy and Julian offered me an exclusive—plus I have that lovely shot of the two of them and that giant sparkly golf ball Katy’s wearing now. It’s a great photo, by the way.”

  “No doubt.”

  The bands gripping her chest were dissolving as her words flowed. “A photo like that is hard currency in the gossip world. But Scoop’s going to have to pay what they ask for it, with the proceeds going to a charity of their choice. And if Scoop’s not willing to pay for it, I guess I’m going freelance. That story alone will pay enough to keep me on my feet for a while.”

  “Assuming you no longer have a job.”

  “Wendy didn’t get where she is by being a limited thinker. I bet she goes for both stories.”

  He nodded, then frowned. “I still don’t see what this has to do with Dogwood Mountain.”

  She laughed. “I’m getting to that. What Mama helped me understand is that I don’t have to run away to build the life I want. She made a world for herself on her terms right here in Dogwood Mountain. And if I want to, so can I.” She paused for a moment, the low, soft breeze and muffled hush of the snow the only sound. Rand brushed a strand of hair off her cheek, waited for her to continue.

  “I love my Brooklyn life. But it’s small. To grow bigger, I need more room.”

  “You can write anywhere.”

  She nodded and lifted her brows. “Now you’re getting it. If—no, when I get this promotion, I’ll have more freedom and more money. Freedom means I can work out a flexible schedule, and money means I can afford plane tickets. I’ve already checked. More flights come into Atlanta, but it’s a shorter drive from Asheville.”

  He nodded. “Sounds like you’ll be spending more time here.”

  “Assuming I have a good reason, yes.” She met his gaze, seeking the answer she didn’t know she’d been waiting for all her life.

  “A good reason,” Rand said. “Something like the T-Rex burger with a Raptor Red at the Brontosaurus?”

  “Not a bad choice, but not enough.”

  “Unusual town traditions featuring distinctive desserts?” he teased.

  Ivy
groaned. “Not hardly. Try again.”

  “Deluxe accommodations at the finest inn in town?”

  She scoffed. “From what I hear, that place needs a makeover. No, I was thinking of something special. Someone special.” Ivy looked into Rand’s eyes, her mind and heart calm for the first time in days. “I want you. I love you, Rand Cooper.”

  He closed his eyes and breathed out audibly, then he lifted his hands to cup her face and rested his forehead against hers. “I’ve been hoping since the seventh grade to hear you say that.”

  “I’m sorry I never said it earlier. It would have saved us both a lot of trouble.”

  His voice was low and husky in her ear. “I love you, too, Ivy Macpherson.” The quilt slipped from their shoulders as they embraced, and the sudden chill sent them laughing back inside.

  “You know,” Rand said as he gathered Ivy to him, “if you’re home for any length of time, you’re going to get sucked back into the family madness. Good thing fruitcake season isn’t for another ten months, huh?”

  She snuggled closer and sighed. “I can put up with fruitcake if it means I get something sweeter.”

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  Ivy leaned into him and took her time kissing the man she loved. “You.”

  The End

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  Thanks for reading The Christmas Scoop by Mimi Wells!

  Discover your next romance at TulePublishing.com.

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  About the Author

  Mimi Wells worked as a mother’s helper, an aerobics instructor, an arts magazine editor, a project typist, a grammarian, a graphic designer, a waitress, a lingerie saleswoman, and a soda jerk before finding her niche as an award-winning high school English teacher and writer of young adult and Southern women’s fiction and romance. Working with teenagers keeps her young and turns her hair gray—pretty much a perfect example of creative tension. It also provides her with an unending supply of answers to the writer’s favorite question: “What if?” Mimi reigns as Empress of the Barefoot Domain in sunny Central Florida with her husband, two children, and two Brittanys—all of whom are spoiled completely rotten.

  Visit Mimi online at www.mimiwells.com, like her on Facebook, or follow @mimi_wells on Twitter

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